If you hadn't noticed, I haven't been motivated to blog recently. My list of excuses includes: being sick, being tired, working late, office Christmas party, business trip to Cambridge, having nothing to say, creating Christmas cards, and many more! Take your pick! Two for one!
Today I finally uncovered an afternoon with no previous plans... and being sick, I wasn't willing to tax my body with several hours of walking, despite great weather out. So I worked on my Grandma's Christmas present instead. Last Labor Day, she sent me home with a Kinkos-made booklet of all her essays written since the 60's. My assignment was to read the whole thing (I've actually read half of them in previous visits anyway). Some of them are... well, let's just say I'm not much of an essay-reading guy. So my gift was not only read them--all of them--but to write up my comments about them, thus proving I've read them. Yes, it took all afternoon and it's time I'll never get back, but Grandma is about the only person I can crticize openly and in explicit detail and will still love the attention. Merry Christmas, Grandma!
Work continues to be less than satisfying... but enough of that, already.
The office Christmas party was held at local hotspot Solas in Raleigh... last Sunday night. The place is neat and I'm sure it's quite the place to be (you know, NOT on Sunday night), and the drinks were great (free). The music was a tad loud though, so any chance I had of opening up and being social was pretty much shut down by my loud-averse ears. I mean, how much can you really socialize when every other word is "What?" Craftily scheduled for Sunday night, no one got balls-out drunk, or at least not in the time I was there. And everyone who said they'd be in late on Monday morning... they were bluffing. Tricky!
I'm coming up on six months in Raleigh now... beginning to enter "real" time here, time when I can start reflecting on it enough to figure out if it's worth it. Well, I have to say the weather was surprisingly bearable today. I guess if one thing has lived up to expectation, its been fall weather. Some trees still have a few leaves hanging on for dear life, even. Finances... well, I'm still spending at least as much to live, but I'm living larger. At least in the amount of space my meager possessions have to spread out. Career-wize... well, we'll see, I guess. I get the sense that this firm is probably the best one around when viewed from most perspectives, I just don't know that I'm able to see from those perspectives yet. I'm sure if I ever left, I would see it all much clearer, and much too late.
So here I sit, making use of my extensive Christmas music collection, getting ready to turn the warm glow of the TV back on, remembering Forgetting Sarah Marshall (Netflix), getting sick of hearing the cat lick himself, and hoping that I can make it through another week without falling into a complete loser hole. Wish me luck.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
November Rain
Raleigh continues to be an unusually wet place considering its reputation as a drought hot spot.
My upstairs neighbor has a knack for finding all the floor boards in my ceiling that squeek when they bear weight. And he shifts his weight on... and he shifts his weight off... squeek-a screetch!
I can't seem to muster up more than twenty minutes of energy to do anything besides eating or watching TV.
The Christmas card is going to be a little late this year.
My breath smells like pesto. It's not a disease; I ate pesto for dinner.
If I had to play football in a driving rain, I'd probably suck at it too. Actually, I'm sure I would suck at it anyway. I know me.
I haven't shaved in over three days.
The Thanksgiving trip was fun. The following two nights of 10-12 hours of sleep were also fun. Getting a sore throat... not so fun.
My heat seems to be on more than makes sense for how cold it's not outside.
Axl Rose is still not my hero.
My upstairs neighbor has a knack for finding all the floor boards in my ceiling that squeek when they bear weight. And he shifts his weight on... and he shifts his weight off... squeek-a screetch!
I can't seem to muster up more than twenty minutes of energy to do anything besides eating or watching TV.
The Christmas card is going to be a little late this year.
My breath smells like pesto. It's not a disease; I ate pesto for dinner.
If I had to play football in a driving rain, I'd probably suck at it too. Actually, I'm sure I would suck at it anyway. I know me.
I haven't shaved in over three days.
The Thanksgiving trip was fun. The following two nights of 10-12 hours of sleep were also fun. Getting a sore throat... not so fun.
My heat seems to be on more than makes sense for how cold it's not outside.
Axl Rose is still not my hero.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The one in which Paul passes his LEED exam and prepares to visit Massachusetts
So the big news, and one of very few highlights of my time since moving to Raleigh, is that I passed my LEED exam last Tuesday. For those who may not be "in the know" on architecture-related credentials, this is one that says I know how to guide a project through the LEED Green Building rating system, which is basically the foremost standard for rating the sustainability of building projects. Having this credential may not be particularly relevant in my day-to-day work, but certainly it is a credential that employers (including my own) believe is valuable, enough that some require it to be considered for employment. So, with that exam out of the way, I can begin to focus on the ARE exams (for licensure). But first, perhaps a few weeks of breaking from studying...
I have my first substantial time off from work this coming week--all week, in fact. I've always liked to take Thanksgiving week off from work because I can be thrifty with vacation days. That's especially important when you start a job in July and are given barely a week of vacation days for the rest of the year. I'm still feeling very unmotivated and dissatisfied at work, too, so hopefully a week of seeing friends and family from back home and eating and drinking copiously will put me in the right frame of mind for enjoying life a little more. Or perhaps it will so drastically contrast with my life in Raleigh that I won't want to go back?
I have my first substantial time off from work this coming week--all week, in fact. I've always liked to take Thanksgiving week off from work because I can be thrifty with vacation days. That's especially important when you start a job in July and are given barely a week of vacation days for the rest of the year. I'm still feeling very unmotivated and dissatisfied at work, too, so hopefully a week of seeing friends and family from back home and eating and drinking copiously will put me in the right frame of mind for enjoying life a little more. Or perhaps it will so drastically contrast with my life in Raleigh that I won't want to go back?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Four months and counting
November 1 was my four monthiversary here in North Carolina. I'm not sure if that should feel like a long time or a short time... depending on the situation, it could feel one or the other. I still don't know many people here in town (short time), but I've already been here longer than some folks I've met (long time). My car is beginning to commute itself to work (long time), but I'm still anxious about the I-40 traffic (short time). I still feel like a newbie at work (short time) and yet I had a laundry list of complaints at my 3-month work review that would suggest a seasoned disgruntlement (long time). Not a girl, not yet a woman, as I guess Britney Spears would say. I at least think the deer-in-the-headlights phase is passing. Slowly.
No grand promenade around Raleigh today, though the weather was (allegedly) perfect; I made a pact with myself that I would do all my chores and errands yesterday and focus on LEED exam studying today--I've only opened my door twice (once for the paper, once for the Obama greeters). I took a practice test today and didn't do great, although doing badly was the point--figuring out where the gaps are in my knowledge. I have just over two weeks of studying left, and though I feel like some of the information is starting to settle into the synapses, I'm unsure of my ability to master the knowledge in time. It would be a costly failure ($300), embarassing considering all the people who know I'm taking it, and a big confidence deflater at a time when I'm not brimming with it already, but... well, no one's life (or livelihood) depends on it. I'm not angling for a career as a sustainability consultant. But it sure will be tough heading into seven registration exams already in the hole.
I'm still eager for things to settle down. Thought I'm very excited about the election on Tuesday, I can't wait for it to be over and to know what we have to deal with for the next four years. I can't wait for the construction at our office to be done so I can actually concentrate on my job and--perhaps--do well at it. New things are on the horizon, though--possible business trip to Cambridge, then back again for Thanksgiving two weeks later; the exam; scheduling the next exams; deadlines; gift shopping; tons of birthdays to remember...
Thank goodness I'm not following any sports, or I would run out of brain.
No grand promenade around Raleigh today, though the weather was (allegedly) perfect; I made a pact with myself that I would do all my chores and errands yesterday and focus on LEED exam studying today--I've only opened my door twice (once for the paper, once for the Obama greeters). I took a practice test today and didn't do great, although doing badly was the point--figuring out where the gaps are in my knowledge. I have just over two weeks of studying left, and though I feel like some of the information is starting to settle into the synapses, I'm unsure of my ability to master the knowledge in time. It would be a costly failure ($300), embarassing considering all the people who know I'm taking it, and a big confidence deflater at a time when I'm not brimming with it already, but... well, no one's life (or livelihood) depends on it. I'm not angling for a career as a sustainability consultant. But it sure will be tough heading into seven registration exams already in the hole.
I'm still eager for things to settle down. Thought I'm very excited about the election on Tuesday, I can't wait for it to be over and to know what we have to deal with for the next four years. I can't wait for the construction at our office to be done so I can actually concentrate on my job and--perhaps--do well at it. New things are on the horizon, though--possible business trip to Cambridge, then back again for Thanksgiving two weeks later; the exam; scheduling the next exams; deadlines; gift shopping; tons of birthdays to remember...
Thank goodness I'm not following any sports, or I would run out of brain.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
ITB-WNW
Today I ventured out for another walk Inside The Beltline. This time I covered the area WNW of my apartment, essentially the neighborhood between Wade Avenue and Glenwood Avenue. (Last time--ITB-W--was between Hillsborough Street and Wade Avenue.) I didn't take any pictures; though the neighborhood was nice and quaint, etc., there were few notable sights worthy of a photo.
We went to the State Fair, which was so crowded by midafternoon that you really couldn't get anywhere. Quite a shame, because it all looks like fun if you took about two thirds of the people away. That's what you get for going on the weekend, I guess.
Here's the map:
This week at work was truly shitty--I mean, honestly, any week the involves a trip to Baltimore is a little iffy to begin with--but I worked more hours that I have in a long, long time, and this project is certainly not getting any more fun or engaging. By far my work experience here has been a real stinker and has brought my spirits low about living in Raleigh across the board. In case I hadn't yet conveyed that in previous posts...
On a more positive note, though, I did host my first guests last weekend--Mom and Steve. They stopped by on their way south to the Keys/Bahamas for the winter. Some photos:
We went to the State Fair, which was so crowded by midafternoon that you really couldn't get anywhere. Quite a shame, because it all looks like fun if you took about two thirds of the people away. That's what you get for going on the weekend, I guess.
Now time to catch up on my LEED exam studying, which has lagged due to having no energy after a long week of work...
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Odd Couple?
How is it that I find Jack Lemmon's character, Felix, in The Odd Couple so repellant, and yet I know I'm him? Shouldn't that realization mean something? Or not?
Sunday, October 5, 2008
It's not a linear process?
I was not able to get out--er, I am not able to get out--for a walk today. Though the weather is a gorgeous near-80 and sunny (as is customary for this time of year in Raleigh, I gather), I simply have too much to do. It is hard to multitask during a three hour walk. So perhaps next week?
Instead I'd rather gripe and rant about design and the practice of architecture; perhaps it will shed some light on my frustrations at work and, you know, in general.
If anyone has ever attended architecture school and subsequently worked for an architecture firm that holds design as an important selling point, they've heard this: "Design is not a linear process." This is usually said by someone higher up on the professional food chain when someone lower down is expressing frustration about being directed to undo and redo the same work many times over. I've heard it often. Very often.
On the face of it, I understand the statement. When we design, we cannot know all the implications of every move we make or how satisfying the outcome will be. So, in effect, design is a thousand mini experiments executed nearly simlutaneously that must be sorted out for their individual successes and failures when the experiments are over. In terms of architectural design, this means that we move a wall because it looks more right there than where it was but we also acknowledge that it works better over there and is more buildable over here, and in the end some weighting of all these factors will come together and the wall will be built in some place, but not before moving several more times for several more reasons. Executed my a proficient designer who can explain his or her methodology, the "nonlinear" design process takes this stew of uncertainty and applies values to it with the understanding that, at some point, the wall must be built somewhere and linearity must come back into the process to enable that. The experiments MUST END and you must GO FORWARD with DECISIONS and accept that further nonlinearity is not helpful.
I posit that the people who have constantly regurgitated "Design is not a linear process" are usually not these proficient designers but are actually capricious and indecisive. These people often cannot explain their methodology; despite mounting evidence that the wall needs to be "here" and not "there," they still hold out that "there" looks better and can be made to work when it cannot. And my role in this is usually to be launched on the wild goose chase for the linkage between why something is there and why it makes any sense, when it most often does not. And then to look bad when the linkage cannot be found. And then to be put on another chase immediately thereafter for why it didn't work any better two weeks ago.
But ok, fine, I'm just a disgruntled and frustrated employee who will find anything to be stressed about. So let's assume for a moment that all architects believed that design could be a nonlinear process and it could actually work without frustrating their own employees. What about the rest of the world? Architects aren't the only people who work on building buildings. What about clients? Engineers? Contractors? Do these people see any value in our nonlinearity? Because the process they're on in most definitely linear. In fact, there's a goddamn calendar up on the wall in the client's office that shows the project kickoff date and the date of building occupancy. That's pretty linear--he or she wants to see progress get made at each step. Things must always progress from being vague ideas and concepts towards being refined, detailed, and executable as built elements. What about the engineers? In my experience, the engineers must always be responding to our design intent with their technical systems. If we move a wall from here to there, we could invalidate their entire system design. That would sure make their process nonlinear as well. Actually, that would probably drive them to just wait us out... and not do anything until they knew that those walls can't move anymore. And contractors... whew. They don't like this nonlinear bullshit, because when you pay ten guys to nail some shit up on the wall, IT IS UP, and if some prickish designer decides he wants that shit over there instead, he better be ready to pay for it all over again.
Listen, this nonlinear process thing is a fiction, a myth. At some date, the architect hands over a set of drawings that becomes a legal contract. The date is fixed, and the legality is fixed. You may hash over and revise your ideas and drawings and move that wall back and forth a hundred times, but you ARE and MUST BE constantly narrowing the range of possibilities over time or else you are not engaged in an actual process. You're essentially jerking off and expecting a boat load of people who depend on you to watch in rapt awe.
If being a designer means that I should be capriciously fucking with what obviously needs to be a linear process, than fine, I don't have to be a designer. Nonlinearity really gives design a bad name.
P.S.: I guess what I'm saying is, every divergence from the path needs to either provide success or at least useful feedback that brings the design closer to a desirable outcome. To make a move that runs contrary to established design goals or does not bring with it at least the expectation of progressing the design in some range of value is a worthless waste of time. Even in a situation of infinite available time, who would want to be a part of THAT nonlinear process?
Instead I'd rather gripe and rant about design and the practice of architecture; perhaps it will shed some light on my frustrations at work and, you know, in general.
If anyone has ever attended architecture school and subsequently worked for an architecture firm that holds design as an important selling point, they've heard this: "Design is not a linear process." This is usually said by someone higher up on the professional food chain when someone lower down is expressing frustration about being directed to undo and redo the same work many times over. I've heard it often. Very often.
On the face of it, I understand the statement. When we design, we cannot know all the implications of every move we make or how satisfying the outcome will be. So, in effect, design is a thousand mini experiments executed nearly simlutaneously that must be sorted out for their individual successes and failures when the experiments are over. In terms of architectural design, this means that we move a wall because it looks more right there than where it was but we also acknowledge that it works better over there and is more buildable over here, and in the end some weighting of all these factors will come together and the wall will be built in some place, but not before moving several more times for several more reasons. Executed my a proficient designer who can explain his or her methodology, the "nonlinear" design process takes this stew of uncertainty and applies values to it with the understanding that, at some point, the wall must be built somewhere and linearity must come back into the process to enable that. The experiments MUST END and you must GO FORWARD with DECISIONS and accept that further nonlinearity is not helpful.
I posit that the people who have constantly regurgitated "Design is not a linear process" are usually not these proficient designers but are actually capricious and indecisive. These people often cannot explain their methodology; despite mounting evidence that the wall needs to be "here" and not "there," they still hold out that "there" looks better and can be made to work when it cannot. And my role in this is usually to be launched on the wild goose chase for the linkage between why something is there and why it makes any sense, when it most often does not. And then to look bad when the linkage cannot be found. And then to be put on another chase immediately thereafter for why it didn't work any better two weeks ago.
But ok, fine, I'm just a disgruntled and frustrated employee who will find anything to be stressed about. So let's assume for a moment that all architects believed that design could be a nonlinear process and it could actually work without frustrating their own employees. What about the rest of the world? Architects aren't the only people who work on building buildings. What about clients? Engineers? Contractors? Do these people see any value in our nonlinearity? Because the process they're on in most definitely linear. In fact, there's a goddamn calendar up on the wall in the client's office that shows the project kickoff date and the date of building occupancy. That's pretty linear--he or she wants to see progress get made at each step. Things must always progress from being vague ideas and concepts towards being refined, detailed, and executable as built elements. What about the engineers? In my experience, the engineers must always be responding to our design intent with their technical systems. If we move a wall from here to there, we could invalidate their entire system design. That would sure make their process nonlinear as well. Actually, that would probably drive them to just wait us out... and not do anything until they knew that those walls can't move anymore. And contractors... whew. They don't like this nonlinear bullshit, because when you pay ten guys to nail some shit up on the wall, IT IS UP, and if some prickish designer decides he wants that shit over there instead, he better be ready to pay for it all over again.
Listen, this nonlinear process thing is a fiction, a myth. At some date, the architect hands over a set of drawings that becomes a legal contract. The date is fixed, and the legality is fixed. You may hash over and revise your ideas and drawings and move that wall back and forth a hundred times, but you ARE and MUST BE constantly narrowing the range of possibilities over time or else you are not engaged in an actual process. You're essentially jerking off and expecting a boat load of people who depend on you to watch in rapt awe.
If being a designer means that I should be capriciously fucking with what obviously needs to be a linear process, than fine, I don't have to be a designer. Nonlinearity really gives design a bad name.
P.S.: I guess what I'm saying is, every divergence from the path needs to either provide success or at least useful feedback that brings the design closer to a desirable outcome. To make a move that runs contrary to established design goals or does not bring with it at least the expectation of progressing the design in some range of value is a worthless waste of time. Even in a situation of infinite available time, who would want to be a part of THAT nonlinear process?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
ITB-W
So apparently it takes about three months for me to get used to/less anxious about a new living situation. Here it is, end of September, end of month three, and the weather has gotten better, the job has gotten easier to deal with, there's better TV on, and my exam paperwork is going through ahead of schedule. Sure, gas is scarce and expensive... actually, most things are scarce and expensive. The economy is poised to slide down the poop chute. I've had to quit my favorite habit (coffee). But I'm starting to feel a certain level of familiarity with Raleigh, with commuting, with being an architect again, etc. etc. Life is certainly less shitty than it was during the summer.
This place on Hillsborough Street across from NC State looks neat... but probably rife with college kids. Homecoming week starts today, and there were a bunch of coeds and frat boys out painting storefront windows with red letters and wolves (they're the Wolfpack). They play Boston University for their homecoming game next week. Hope they don't suck it like they did this week!
This is State's bell tower. You can see it from my supermarket, but I had no idea what it was until a few weeks ago.
So there you have it! It was a two-hour walk and approximately 6 miles.
Now for anyone keeping score on the weather here: it's been rainy here lately, too. In fact, the lawn outside my patio has been spongy wet since TS Hannah several weeks ago. It's been an unusually wet summer for this drought-prone area. I was surprised that, within the span of a few weeks from mid-September to late-September, we went from a temperature ceiling of about 90 degrees to one of about 80 degrees (and thank God for it). I guess ceiling is the wrong term... it went from hovering around 90 to hovering around 80. For a few days, it hovered closer to 70, but that was an oddity. In my mind, I imagined it staying hot hot into October and then peeling back a degree a week, so I was happy to get the same feeling of post-summer relief I'm used to up north. Today it's about 82, sunny, not humid... pretty ideal. Great for a long walk in shorts. Too bad I wore my jeans instead duh!).
In between studying for my LEED exam (which is probably not worth studying for, but that's just me I guess) I decided to take my first long walk to a part of the city I haven't visited before. Actually, back up a bit. I was thinking about Rome. And how, in the few months I lived in Rome in 1999, I could and would walk just about anywhere within the ancient walls of the city. Sure, my feet would get tired, but the fact is, it's only a couple miles from Campo dei Fiori (in the center) to any point on the wall. Then I realized that Raleigh isn't that different (uh, eh) in that its center is surrounded by the Beltline highway; the Beltline is only three miles from the center (give or take). And I live kinda close to the center. So... why not utilize this great weather and pedestrianilate my way around the city, from center to wall?
Today's tour was ITB-W: Inside The Beltline - West. It will be the shortest and easiest walk. And maybe the only one. No promises. Basically, it's the area between NC State, Meredith College, and Cameron Village (where I live).
Here's the map:
Here are the highlights:
I stumbled upon this amphitheater not too far from my supermarket... it's attached to Raleigh's Little Theater, that box behind it.
This is the kind of neighborhood it is--pretty clean, family-friendly, fairly affluent, but with some college student apartments in the mix. Decent sidewalks.
This is Meredith College, about which I know nothing aside from that it has a public bikepath along the campus edge that is fenced in, so I couldn't get off it where I wanted to and had to backtrack.
It wouldn't have made sense to not get all the way to the edge of the Beltline, right?
This place on Hillsborough Street across from NC State looks neat... but probably rife with college kids. Homecoming week starts today, and there were a bunch of coeds and frat boys out painting storefront windows with red letters and wolves (they're the Wolfpack). They play Boston University for their homecoming game next week. Hope they don't suck it like they did this week!This is State's bell tower. You can see it from my supermarket, but I had no idea what it was until a few weeks ago. So there you have it! It was a two-hour walk and approximately 6 miles.
Now for anyone keeping score on the weather here: it's been rainy here lately, too. In fact, the lawn outside my patio has been spongy wet since TS Hannah several weeks ago. It's been an unusually wet summer for this drought-prone area. I was surprised that, within the span of a few weeks from mid-September to late-September, we went from a temperature ceiling of about 90 degrees to one of about 80 degrees (and thank God for it). I guess ceiling is the wrong term... it went from hovering around 90 to hovering around 80. For a few days, it hovered closer to 70, but that was an oddity. In my mind, I imagined it staying hot hot into October and then peeling back a degree a week, so I was happy to get the same feeling of post-summer relief I'm used to up north. Today it's about 82, sunny, not humid... pretty ideal. Great for a long walk in shorts. Too bad I wore my jeans instead duh!).
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Manbearpig?
Despite the awesome (though still sweaty) weather, I'm afraid to rescue my bicycle from the patio closet where I deposited it more than two months ago. I don't have a helmet yet, but that's not the root of my fear. Rather, it's the family of Crabfrogcrickets that dwell in the closet that truly freak me out. I've never seen such abominations in my life. They have the body shape of crabs (like huge lozenges), the "skin" color and texture of frogs, and the legs of mutantly large crickets. I can tell they are a family, because there is one of about every size from tiny baby up to big daddy. It's a large multigenerational Catholic family, too... there are a lot of 'em. I've become a little more inured to the big fucking hugantic bugs and spiders around here, I guess. But these ones really creep me out because they make joint-popping sounds when I open the closet door. It's like their legs are that big... it makes me want to set fire to them or spray them with Windex, not because they threaten me, per se, but just because they are SO WRONG. But instead I think I'll just avoid that closet. Maybe something bigger will come along and eat them. I bet they taste like chicken.
Today's mission was to enclose the porch/patio in some kind of netting so that the cat could roam out there sans leash... and so I could read my paper without him dragging me out of my chair. I spent about $20 at Ace getting garden netting--the real light vinyl kind you throw over your vegetable garden to prevent it from becoming the most popular salad bar amongst the local woodland creature population. The result looks like a clusterfuck, as most homemade project without instructions or design time tend to. But I was confident that it would dissuade the cat from leaving the patio. Well, it took him some time, but I blinked and he was suddenly on the other side of the netting. So not only did I have to undo the net to tackle him, I don't even know how to fix the clusterfuck. So now it will simply be a cat slow-down net so I can stop kicking the door jamb every time I come in and out to keep him from bolting. But he'll still have to wear the leash, only now there will be no walkies. He'll be leashed and lying down or leashed and tangled up in a net. Sucks to be rash, huh Fenway?
What is it with working on the weekend? What the fuck? Who else on earth has to do this? Is it really not enough to work a 48 hour week? I feel like I was given a guilt trip for not volunteering my Sunday afternoon to head back into the office, 20 miles away. Instead, I ended up doing a half day of work in my low-tech home so that I could at least claim to have made a contribution, but REALLY... what is this bullshit about? Don't feed me this line that architects, like lawyers and doctors, must do whatever it takes to get the job done. Those people make three times what I make straight out of their higher ed graduation. And they go on lengthy vacations. And get scads of misappropriated respect from the laypeople. I get shit. I get lousy stress working on junky projects that no one will care about even at the ribbon cutting ceremony. I AM NOT ON CALL. YOU DO NOT OWN MY TIME PAST 40 HOURS. Any time I'm willing to work past that is because I like to do a good job, so please start approaching your requests for my sacred weekend time in that light. I do not have a fiancee or wife or girlfriend or mom to cook my meals, do my laundry, feed my cat, do my grocery shopping, clean my bathroom, and return my library books. THERE MUST BE A TIME IN MY WEEK TO DO THIS AS WELL AS FIGURE OUT WHY THE FUCK I MOVED TO RALEIGH. Every minute I spend in the office is another minute that my ACTUAL life goals are not realized. So, do not be SURPRISED, do not act DISAPPOINTED, and certainly do not try to GUILT me if, for God's sake and my own, I want two full fucking days of not having to work. Fuck you, gees.
Today's mission was to enclose the porch/patio in some kind of netting so that the cat could roam out there sans leash... and so I could read my paper without him dragging me out of my chair. I spent about $20 at Ace getting garden netting--the real light vinyl kind you throw over your vegetable garden to prevent it from becoming the most popular salad bar amongst the local woodland creature population. The result looks like a clusterfuck, as most homemade project without instructions or design time tend to. But I was confident that it would dissuade the cat from leaving the patio. Well, it took him some time, but I blinked and he was suddenly on the other side of the netting. So not only did I have to undo the net to tackle him, I don't even know how to fix the clusterfuck. So now it will simply be a cat slow-down net so I can stop kicking the door jamb every time I come in and out to keep him from bolting. But he'll still have to wear the leash, only now there will be no walkies. He'll be leashed and lying down or leashed and tangled up in a net. Sucks to be rash, huh Fenway?
What is it with working on the weekend? What the fuck? Who else on earth has to do this? Is it really not enough to work a 48 hour week? I feel like I was given a guilt trip for not volunteering my Sunday afternoon to head back into the office, 20 miles away. Instead, I ended up doing a half day of work in my low-tech home so that I could at least claim to have made a contribution, but REALLY... what is this bullshit about? Don't feed me this line that architects, like lawyers and doctors, must do whatever it takes to get the job done. Those people make three times what I make straight out of their higher ed graduation. And they go on lengthy vacations. And get scads of misappropriated respect from the laypeople. I get shit. I get lousy stress working on junky projects that no one will care about even at the ribbon cutting ceremony. I AM NOT ON CALL. YOU DO NOT OWN MY TIME PAST 40 HOURS. Any time I'm willing to work past that is because I like to do a good job, so please start approaching your requests for my sacred weekend time in that light. I do not have a fiancee or wife or girlfriend or mom to cook my meals, do my laundry, feed my cat, do my grocery shopping, clean my bathroom, and return my library books. THERE MUST BE A TIME IN MY WEEK TO DO THIS AS WELL AS FIGURE OUT WHY THE FUCK I MOVED TO RALEIGH. Every minute I spend in the office is another minute that my ACTUAL life goals are not realized. So, do not be SURPRISED, do not act DISAPPOINTED, and certainly do not try to GUILT me if, for God's sake and my own, I want two full fucking days of not having to work. Fuck you, gees.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Raleigh Wide Open
I was anticipating missing the Sterling Fair this year, my first in a few. The Fair has been about my only opportunity to eat really, really bad-for-me food in great quantity and convincingly pass it off as family funtime. It was also my sole flirtation with gambling--I was happy to hand over much money to the token-conveyor thingy, just rolling them down their little sluce pipe into the kicking feet of the clown, hoping for many awful and cheap trinkets during my hours of standing there.
I definitely felt like it was time for a Fair. The Sterling Fair always comes the weekend after Labor Day, just as the summer heat has either been put over a barrel or is making its last heroic stand before being cut down in the first really cold morning the following week. I'm looking forward to that weekend down here in Raleigh and was subconsciously feeling like a good fair would hasten its arrival.
Well, though I could not make it to Sterling this weekend, the fair managed to find me here in Raleigh. This weekend was the third annual Raleigh Wide Open, a downtown fair and carnival that, aside from the tall buildings, is not too different than the parts of the Sterling Fair I like. Alight, there's not much "agricultural" to it; that fair is the NC State Fair in October, and it will blow the doors off of anything Sterling has ever seen. But Raleigh Wide Open had all the bad food, aimlessly wandering morons, inexplicable commercial booths, and attractions that the Sterling Fair has. RWO, though, has alcohol, which makes it much cooler (for someone like me, anyway). This year's RWO fair also had the much-anticipated opening of the new Raleigh Convention Center, which has some nice spaces and features, though I doubt it will make a big difference in how cosmopolitan Raleigh feels...
When not downtown, I've been conducting marathon tech support chat sessions with Dell to get my DVD drive replaced (it started skipping on my Michael Clayton Netflix DVD last night and never stopped after testing several other CDs; trying to break in my couch; buying new screen inserts so I can keep my windows open without the cat flopping out; catching up with my DVR recordings; NOT watching the Patriots, as they are not picked up by the local network coverage (bad news about Brady, though, huh?); etc. etc.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Month 2 in the can
I have a couch now! I'm bonafide!
Now, just have to keep Fenway from scratching it up and making it instantly worthless. So the trappings of a real life are starting to collect here--car brakes that don't sound like they'll break on my next commute, furniture, wireless internet... yes, it's costing a lot, but so far I'm not at risk of getting myself into debt. You know... more debt. Still plenty of student loans to pay off.
With at least three named tropical storms kicking around right now, can I ask a simple question? When did hurricanes become political events? While visiting Grandma this weekend, I was forced to watch/roll eyes at Fox News. Their entire converage of Gustav last night was POLITICAL REPORTING. It was 100% about how the GOP was reacting to Gustav in regards to their convention planning. I sat there for an hour waiting for someone to simply say "Gustav is expect to make landfall at _____ at about _____ o'clock tomorrow." Nuthin. It was instead "McCain has halted all RNC activities for day one in order to 'focus attention' on the hurricane preparedness and cleanup efforts for Hurrican Gustav." They repeated that about every 30 seconds with a rolling clip of him and Tina Fey visiting the hurricane preparedness center, shaking lots of hands and apparently getting briefed on NO INFORMATION.
Like, I get it. Zoiks, Scoob. Hurricane. Fucked up once before, gotta get it right now, make sure Katrina isn't a Republican thing for ever and ever. But who shed a goddamn tear a couple weeks ago as Tropical Storm Fay hit Florida FOUR TIMES and dumped half the fucking Atlantic all over the flattest and wettest state in the country? I don't remember McCain or Obama cancelling any events except THE ONES IN FLORIDA. So honestly, folks. This is bullshit. Hurricanes are not political events and should not be in political news. Especially if they aren't being preceded by or followed by horrible political ineptitude, which has obviously not been the case this time around. Get back to your fucking party in MINNESOTA and get on with your lame ass convention.
And Tina Fey is OURS. Give her back.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Hey, look everyone!
Tina Fey's older, ultra-conservative sister has been tapped by McCain as the GOP's VP!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Here Be Monsters...
Anyone who has seen the movie Arachnaphobia or has spent any amount of time in the Carolinas will warn you about the spiders. Yes, spiders are ominpresent here. I've kinda gotten used to that. You can't walk to your car without dragging a web along on your head, and its former inhabitant as well if you aren't lucky. My condo community is essentially the underside of a deck extruded to three stories, so webs and spiders are just part of the aesthetic. I let the local arachnid populace babysit Fenway while I'm at work.
So, spiders I get. I'm not 100% comfortable with them in their large fuzzy redness, but no fang marks as yet. It's the bugs, though, that really creep me out. Not because they're all over, but because they're FUCKING HUGE. I was walking down the faux sidewalks of the local shopping center yesterday, bound for the local Bar & Grille for some end-of-week, stomach-twisting dinner and G&Ts, when I saw something the size and shape of an Insecticon Transformer (alas, not the right color) on the sidewalk. It was a moth. A moth so FUCKING HUGE its compound eyes were the size of dimes. I didn't get to see it's full wingspan, but it was definitely comparable to the small birds I'm used to from Cambridge. I decided to look away so as not to lose my appetite. It was a horror.
But, ok, a moth. Massachusetts has some big moths, too, if you're in the right place at the right time. Sure, they don't panhandle on the sidewalk up there, but I actually think this one was dead... most of the FUCKING HUGE bug creatures I see on the sidewalk are actually empty husks (maybe they molted and got FUCKING HUGER?). But today really brought home how this could effect little old me in a real way. Today, as I was about to make myself comfortable on my porch/patio for a morning crossword failure, I was visited by a FUCKING HUGE bee. Literally: two inches long at least, and 3/8 inch in diameter. And not like a big cuddly bumblebee either--a fierce looking full-fledged, run-away-from bee the size of a AAA battery (are AAAs the bigger ones, or AAs? because I'm talking about the bigger ones). Scare-the-fuck-y. Holy shit. If you're used to getting girlish around a normal bee, just imagine being buzzed by one that FUCKING HUGE.
So, in summary: if you are not a fan of bugs and spiders and such, North Carolina may not be for you. If, however, museum exhibits of prehistoric insect life make you all excited inside, come see the real deal down here in the Carolinas. I mean really, these things should be in zoos. Holy shit.
So, spiders I get. I'm not 100% comfortable with them in their large fuzzy redness, but no fang marks as yet. It's the bugs, though, that really creep me out. Not because they're all over, but because they're FUCKING HUGE. I was walking down the faux sidewalks of the local shopping center yesterday, bound for the local Bar & Grille for some end-of-week, stomach-twisting dinner and G&Ts, when I saw something the size and shape of an Insecticon Transformer (alas, not the right color) on the sidewalk. It was a moth. A moth so FUCKING HUGE its compound eyes were the size of dimes. I didn't get to see it's full wingspan, but it was definitely comparable to the small birds I'm used to from Cambridge. I decided to look away so as not to lose my appetite. It was a horror.
But, ok, a moth. Massachusetts has some big moths, too, if you're in the right place at the right time. Sure, they don't panhandle on the sidewalk up there, but I actually think this one was dead... most of the FUCKING HUGE bug creatures I see on the sidewalk are actually empty husks (maybe they molted and got FUCKING HUGER?). But today really brought home how this could effect little old me in a real way. Today, as I was about to make myself comfortable on my porch/patio for a morning crossword failure, I was visited by a FUCKING HUGE bee. Literally: two inches long at least, and 3/8 inch in diameter. And not like a big cuddly bumblebee either--a fierce looking full-fledged, run-away-from bee the size of a AAA battery (are AAAs the bigger ones, or AAs? because I'm talking about the bigger ones). Scare-the-fuck-y. Holy shit. If you're used to getting girlish around a normal bee, just imagine being buzzed by one that FUCKING HUGE.
So, in summary: if you are not a fan of bugs and spiders and such, North Carolina may not be for you. If, however, museum exhibits of prehistoric insect life make you all excited inside, come see the real deal down here in the Carolinas. I mean really, these things should be in zoos. Holy shit.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Baby Steps to Quality of Life
I began a weekly program last weekend to advance my quality of life by a little bit each week. I think this will mostly mean buying stuff, but instead of it being dumb stuff like huge chocolate bars (we'll keep that in the list just in case, though) it's more about buying stuff that enables a better lifestyle. So, for example, last week I purchased both a toaster oven and new coffeemaker, as I felt that using my broiler setting on the oven to toast sandwich bread was... very lame. Also, I've always seen drinking coffee on the patio as a life goal. Sadly, on the latter part, I found out this week that my consumption of caffeine was destroying my quality of life by making me very, very anxious, so that purchase in particular was not well timed. I'll need to invest in some decaf grounds.
So, I write this now from my canvas porch chair on my patio/porch thing. This week's purchase was a wireless router, so I am no longer tethered to my desk next to the cat shitbox if I want to surf. I firmly believe this will allow me to write more often as well as be outside more often, both things I consider important to my quality of life. Next weekend will be a biggie: I plan to go couch shopping. As yet I am still enjoying my digital cable and DVR from a folding slingback chair which was never intended as the sole sitting device for a 2BR apartment. So within a couple weeks, I will have a new couch on which I can stretch out and be a human being. Of course, this will give me more reason to be unhappy with going to work.
Yes, the job... I'm trying to be upbeat and reserve judgement here, because I recognize that my current heinous situation is not really anyone's fault but is rather a fluke of really, really shitty timing. Allow me to explain: I arrived at the new job with the understanding that I'd be working on one project but was quickly diverted onto another that had an even more tragically-scheduled deadline. So right from day 2 I was in the thick of a very stressful deadline-powered hell that promises to only get worse up until Labor Day weekend, which is the primary deadline. Being out of practice with work in general and architecture thinking in particular, I've felt like dead weight since I started. And yet I've still been putting in extraordinary hours for a newbie nonetheless. So not only do I feel like shit, but I also feel like shit more hours of the day than seems reasonable. The really sad part is that my work experience thus far has really dimmed my enthusiasm for being here in Raleigh, as my job is about all I have time or energy for when it's this demanding.
Now that I've had a few hours away from it (I worked a half day yesterday as well), I realize that it's not a good idea to be judging my overall relocation experience based on a few weeks of one project that isn't going well. My hope is that once the deadline has passed and I get out of town for a day to visit the family up in Virginia, the heat subsides (it's begun to already), the couch arrives, late summer spiritual doldrums pass, new shows start cropping up on TV again, then I'll start seeing the benefit of being here. Until then, I have to grow up a little and just slog through it.
Wish me luck.
So, I write this now from my canvas porch chair on my patio/porch thing. This week's purchase was a wireless router, so I am no longer tethered to my desk next to the cat shitbox if I want to surf. I firmly believe this will allow me to write more often as well as be outside more often, both things I consider important to my quality of life. Next weekend will be a biggie: I plan to go couch shopping. As yet I am still enjoying my digital cable and DVR from a folding slingback chair which was never intended as the sole sitting device for a 2BR apartment. So within a couple weeks, I will have a new couch on which I can stretch out and be a human being. Of course, this will give me more reason to be unhappy with going to work.
Yes, the job... I'm trying to be upbeat and reserve judgement here, because I recognize that my current heinous situation is not really anyone's fault but is rather a fluke of really, really shitty timing. Allow me to explain: I arrived at the new job with the understanding that I'd be working on one project but was quickly diverted onto another that had an even more tragically-scheduled deadline. So right from day 2 I was in the thick of a very stressful deadline-powered hell that promises to only get worse up until Labor Day weekend, which is the primary deadline. Being out of practice with work in general and architecture thinking in particular, I've felt like dead weight since I started. And yet I've still been putting in extraordinary hours for a newbie nonetheless. So not only do I feel like shit, but I also feel like shit more hours of the day than seems reasonable. The really sad part is that my work experience thus far has really dimmed my enthusiasm for being here in Raleigh, as my job is about all I have time or energy for when it's this demanding.
Now that I've had a few hours away from it (I worked a half day yesterday as well), I realize that it's not a good idea to be judging my overall relocation experience based on a few weeks of one project that isn't going well. My hope is that once the deadline has passed and I get out of town for a day to visit the family up in Virginia, the heat subsides (it's begun to already), the couch arrives, late summer spiritual doldrums pass, new shows start cropping up on TV again, then I'll start seeing the benefit of being here. Until then, I have to grow up a little and just slog through it.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Run, Forest, Run!
Three weeks ago or so, when I started working, there was a forest of pine trees across the street from the parking lot at work. Today, I realized that the forest is gone. The former forest is now a pre-construction site. I have no idea what will go there, but I'm damn well sure it won't be another forest.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Huh?
I must be taking my job way too seriously... I don't seem to see anyone else at work that pops a new stomach ulcer every morning. Of course, most of them have been there a lot longer than I have, so perhaps they're used to it...
Somehow I've been pigeonholed as the designy guy on this project I'm working on now. That's fairly reasonable, given my background, but it seems like a bit of a stretch for someone who's been with the firm for two weeks to be able to navigate the months and months of backstory on this project and be able to contribute usefully to continuing the narrative. I mean, I like to sketch and think. I wish I could get paid for doing that all the time. But not with a gun to my head. Good critical thinking that expands the realm of possibility should not get a deadline every morning. It's just not effective, or, rather, I'm just not effective within those parameters. If I'm supposed to produce three brilliant ideas by 10am every morning, I'm going to die very soon. I'd rather just be in charge of drafting and offer up my one brilliant idea per week, unsolicited, when it seems appropriate. That's something I can excel at. That's something I can blow the doors off of. People who crowd around my CAD drafting and be like, "whoa, that guy can pump some mean CAD." Instead, I get a lot of quiet nonfeedback about my less-than-brilliant but timely designy ideas. And I feel like a brick.
So why care?
Somehow I've been pigeonholed as the designy guy on this project I'm working on now. That's fairly reasonable, given my background, but it seems like a bit of a stretch for someone who's been with the firm for two weeks to be able to navigate the months and months of backstory on this project and be able to contribute usefully to continuing the narrative. I mean, I like to sketch and think. I wish I could get paid for doing that all the time. But not with a gun to my head. Good critical thinking that expands the realm of possibility should not get a deadline every morning. It's just not effective, or, rather, I'm just not effective within those parameters. If I'm supposed to produce three brilliant ideas by 10am every morning, I'm going to die very soon. I'd rather just be in charge of drafting and offer up my one brilliant idea per week, unsolicited, when it seems appropriate. That's something I can excel at. That's something I can blow the doors off of. People who crowd around my CAD drafting and be like, "whoa, that guy can pump some mean CAD." Instead, I get a lot of quiet nonfeedback about my less-than-brilliant but timely designy ideas. And I feel like a brick.
So why care?
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Reflections on One Month in Raleigh
...and one week at work
Friday was my official monthiversary of moving to Raleigh, although it took another week to get back to Mass. to retrieve the cat and get him to the new home. So, naturally, I've been evaluating my life post-move.
First, I should say how thankful I am to have a job. There are a lot of people out there who do not have the opportunity to choose their preferred home locale, not to mention be able to get a job within a month of getting there. So no matter how much I may moan and bitch in the weeks and months to come, I am very grateful to have a job, be drawing a real income, and be able to come home to an apartment and neighborhood that I chose on my own free will.
Late July is a difficult time to fall in love with Raleigh; actually, I'd guess that late July is a difficult time to fall in love with anything, anywhere, besides an air conditioner or swimming pool or ice maker or something. I don't know a lot of people who visit Boston in late July and August and leave feeling... refreshed. Maybe the Cape, several decades ago. But, yes, Raleigh is hot right now. Do you know that there's no such thing as a heat wave down here in late summer? No one can keep count how many consecutive days it gets above 90 for a high. The newspaper says that last Saturday was below 90, though I can honestly say I don't recall that. But certainly no meteorologist is saying "and now were on to an unbelieavable seventh straight day of heat wave!" It just is hot every day. Don't get me wrong--it doesn't affect me. I have central A/C in the apartment, at work, in the car, at the gym, in every restaurant, bar, library, bank, and supermarket I go to. I am rarely uncomfortable. But it does make it difficult to get doey-eyed about the city/region itself. So don't expect me to be shouting acclaim for my new home just yet.
That said, I still sit out on my patio when I get a chance. I'm contemplating another night of White Trash Outdoor The-A-tur on my patio if we avoid thunderstorms and I remember to put on bug spray. I'm thinking of ways to make the patio cat-escape-proof so that Fenway doesn't have to wear his leash but can still see all the birdies and squirrelies in the yard. So, if it's tolerable to sit outside with a coffee or a Mike's Lemonade in 95-degree heat in August, I'm very encouraged about patio-sitting straight through the fall. I am, in fact, optimistic about having a long, comfy fall and equally long, comfy spring. With a tiny but seasonally appropriate winter somewhere in between.
Now, the job--the job that I am so grateful to have. Well, it's never as good as the first day, right? Actually, that's not true. For me, work experiences tend to peak at about the end of the first year. For this job, though, commute traffic instantly became worse the second day. My first assignment was ambiguous enough that my level of expectation was far in excess of my assigner's, which resulted in great undue anxiety that persisted until Thursday (and could continue to some degree for at least a few more weeks). It's been hard to acclimate, and compounding that has been some really shitty nights of sleep. So week 1 at work was not a shiny beacon of hope. The project I'm working on is interesting, though, and actually an apt project for reintegrating an urban designer-type person back into the world of architecture. So once I get better control over the expectations of myself and my supervisors, it shouldn't be as bad. That drive, though... it's not wicked long, it's not crazy big city rush hour, but it is an unnecessary complication on life that must be phased out after a year, I think. One way or another.
Some things are great. I'm doing laundry now, and don't have a pocket full of quarters emptying itself every time I sit down. I have DVR and can watch Comedy Central Presents anytime I want. I go to the Y every day except Sunday and have lost over five pounds since I got here (though I'm not sure if it's my self-imposed poverty diet that did the weight loss thing). I play volleyball Tuesday nights at the Y and I'm actually one of the good players. Only complaint about the Y: old naked guys. Brand new YMCA locker room; same old naked guys. I can't imagine a mindset where walking around with my old withered peepee hanging out in front of a bunch of other naked men is an attractive prospect. I certainly don't get naked at the Y... I'd rather walk home sweaty and use the bathroom I pay rent for and keep my damn pants on in the presence of strangers. So, aside from the old naked men, though, the Y is great.
So, after a month: the jury is out. It hasn't been an easy transition. But one thing I realized today: I can actually contemplate doing things here I never could in Cambridge, foremost: buying a house. I can actually afford to toy with the idea of owning property here and being upwardly mobile. And the time I spend at this job is going to look really good on the resume. So I'm optimistic. I think once autumn breaks things are going to look real nice here.
Friday was my official monthiversary of moving to Raleigh, although it took another week to get back to Mass. to retrieve the cat and get him to the new home. So, naturally, I've been evaluating my life post-move.
First, I should say how thankful I am to have a job. There are a lot of people out there who do not have the opportunity to choose their preferred home locale, not to mention be able to get a job within a month of getting there. So no matter how much I may moan and bitch in the weeks and months to come, I am very grateful to have a job, be drawing a real income, and be able to come home to an apartment and neighborhood that I chose on my own free will.
Late July is a difficult time to fall in love with Raleigh; actually, I'd guess that late July is a difficult time to fall in love with anything, anywhere, besides an air conditioner or swimming pool or ice maker or something. I don't know a lot of people who visit Boston in late July and August and leave feeling... refreshed. Maybe the Cape, several decades ago. But, yes, Raleigh is hot right now. Do you know that there's no such thing as a heat wave down here in late summer? No one can keep count how many consecutive days it gets above 90 for a high. The newspaper says that last Saturday was below 90, though I can honestly say I don't recall that. But certainly no meteorologist is saying "and now were on to an unbelieavable seventh straight day of heat wave!" It just is hot every day. Don't get me wrong--it doesn't affect me. I have central A/C in the apartment, at work, in the car, at the gym, in every restaurant, bar, library, bank, and supermarket I go to. I am rarely uncomfortable. But it does make it difficult to get doey-eyed about the city/region itself. So don't expect me to be shouting acclaim for my new home just yet.
That said, I still sit out on my patio when I get a chance. I'm contemplating another night of White Trash Outdoor The-A-tur on my patio if we avoid thunderstorms and I remember to put on bug spray. I'm thinking of ways to make the patio cat-escape-proof so that Fenway doesn't have to wear his leash but can still see all the birdies and squirrelies in the yard. So, if it's tolerable to sit outside with a coffee or a Mike's Lemonade in 95-degree heat in August, I'm very encouraged about patio-sitting straight through the fall. I am, in fact, optimistic about having a long, comfy fall and equally long, comfy spring. With a tiny but seasonally appropriate winter somewhere in between.
Now, the job--the job that I am so grateful to have. Well, it's never as good as the first day, right? Actually, that's not true. For me, work experiences tend to peak at about the end of the first year. For this job, though, commute traffic instantly became worse the second day. My first assignment was ambiguous enough that my level of expectation was far in excess of my assigner's, which resulted in great undue anxiety that persisted until Thursday (and could continue to some degree for at least a few more weeks). It's been hard to acclimate, and compounding that has been some really shitty nights of sleep. So week 1 at work was not a shiny beacon of hope. The project I'm working on is interesting, though, and actually an apt project for reintegrating an urban designer-type person back into the world of architecture. So once I get better control over the expectations of myself and my supervisors, it shouldn't be as bad. That drive, though... it's not wicked long, it's not crazy big city rush hour, but it is an unnecessary complication on life that must be phased out after a year, I think. One way or another.
Some things are great. I'm doing laundry now, and don't have a pocket full of quarters emptying itself every time I sit down. I have DVR and can watch Comedy Central Presents anytime I want. I go to the Y every day except Sunday and have lost over five pounds since I got here (though I'm not sure if it's my self-imposed poverty diet that did the weight loss thing). I play volleyball Tuesday nights at the Y and I'm actually one of the good players. Only complaint about the Y: old naked guys. Brand new YMCA locker room; same old naked guys. I can't imagine a mindset where walking around with my old withered peepee hanging out in front of a bunch of other naked men is an attractive prospect. I certainly don't get naked at the Y... I'd rather walk home sweaty and use the bathroom I pay rent for and keep my damn pants on in the presence of strangers. So, aside from the old naked men, though, the Y is great.
So, after a month: the jury is out. It hasn't been an easy transition. But one thing I realized today: I can actually contemplate doing things here I never could in Cambridge, foremost: buying a house. I can actually afford to toy with the idea of owning property here and being upwardly mobile. And the time I spend at this job is going to look really good on the resume. So I'm optimistic. I think once autumn breaks things are going to look real nice here.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
So, how is it?
I've only been here for about twenty days now and have yet to start my workaday job--which begins Monday--but everyone I talk to is curious about how things are down here. It's difficult to come up with a satisfying response--satisfying to me or the questioner. I've read so many forum posts from Northeasterners who have relocated here that were in love with Raleigh/North Carolina/the Southeast from the moment they touched ground and have nothing but praise to heap on their new homes. That's great, but it makes me wonder what truly did it for them. To be honest, it is a nice area with a lot of great things going on, but it's not the kind of place that wears its greatness on its sleeve, as I'm sure some people feel about New York City's excitement and bustle or Asheville NC's laid-back hipness. I really don't see Raleigh as the kind of place that you fall in love with at first sight. And I'm OK with that. But it doesn't seem to satisfy the inquiries I get. So I'll delve into some detail about what life is like here when you're not yet employed:
Hot enough for ya? Yeah, so of course everyone I've talked to since I decided to move South has been like, "you know, it gets hot down there! And the humidity!" Well, no shit. It has been hot, and humid even, too. In fact, it's been consistently about five degrees (oh no!) hotter here than back in Mass. at the same time--sometimes ten degrees, but not as often. Sometimes it's been hotter in Mass. than here. More often, hotter here than there. You know what? It's the middle of fucking summer. It's hot just about everywhere. It's outrageously hot in the Midwest right now. Relative to outrageous, it's actually quite comfortable here. And in winter? Yep, it gets cold here, for sure. You know what? It gets cold here for a month and a half. Not five months. And no one ever seems to joke and rib about "Cold enough for ya?" because cold isn't funny. Cold makes you lose toes. Heat makes you sweat. And maybe a layer or two of skin if you're not careful. So, if you want to think I'm a nut for moving into the heat, concentrate on the fact that the weather NEVER CHANGES here during the summer. In Mass., you can have three days of 90+, followed by a single day of 65 and drizzle, followed by two spectacular 75 degree days. If you like any of those scenarios, you'll be happy for a day or three out of a week. In Raleigh, it's 91 and sunny EVERY DAY, with a slight chance of afternoon thunderstorms EVERY DAY, with a low at night of 72 EVERY DAY. So if you don't like that, you're pretty screwed until fall comes. Personally, it's been ok with me so far, aside from the unbroken consistency. I'd like it to mix up a bit more. But down here, you step under a tree (shade) and it's the best. The power of shade is something I didn't realize. And when there's a breeze, it doesn't destroy the day like in Cambridge. It's pleasant but you can still read the paper on the porch without it blowing away. So that's what it's like right now. Hot, yes. Humid, pretty much. Consistent, very. Hard to bear, not at all. And I still have my windows open every night, comfortably.
So, what's it like... you know, doing anything besides watching TV? I have to admit, I haven't done much here yet. Without an income, I've been reticent to go out to eat or drink much or buy lots of stuff, though I have done that within limits. Most of my pre-job life here has been doing relocation "business" like dealing with the DMV, getting insurance, job interviews, meetings with people who will be important to my career/life here, shopping for necessities... none of that's been a particular hassel aside from what I've already written about (in fact, getting my car registered after I got my license took about three minutes... the bureaucrats taking a smoking break outside when I went in were still mid-cigarette when I strolled out with my new plates). I do acknowledge that, for the most part, things move slower here. There is not as much immediacy to getting things done, contacting people... the local cable TV hotline often has a busy signal(!!) often. And yet the local rush hour--and it is close to an hour, maybe a bit longer--is early, both morning and evening, compared to the hours-long rushes in Boston. So I think there's a higher value here on time spent doing stuff at home or at least not at work--maybe a slightly more European attitude towards priorities.
My outside-of-home life has largely been spent at the YMCA, which is a bit sad because that's only an hour a day, including the walk or drive down there (the walk, which I'll only be able to do on weekends from now on, is a highlight of my day because it's just the right length and a great neighborhood to stroll through). I played volleyball with the pick-up league on Tuesday night, which was great and hopefully a repeatable weekly activity. The YMCA building is brand new--still a phase under construction with a pool--and it is light years from ye olde Cambridge Y in terms of facilities, equipment, and activity amongst all ages and types of people. If it wasn't weird, I would hang out there more, but it is so I won't.
What about the city and the environs? To be honest, I've only been able to come up with reasons to go downtown a few times, mostly to interview or meet with people. I did go to the state natural science museum to see the Dead Sea Scrolls... but honestly, until/unless I work there, there isn't much reason to go to downtown proper--much like living near Boston. I mean, it's a great little city and bound to get better, but I get what I need between the two neighborhood centers where I live (on the west edge of downtown). The environs are... first, I haven't visited many other neighborhoods, which I plan to in weekends between now and deciding whether or not to stay. But that's all Inside the Belt Line (IBL). Outside, which I've had to visit to find a Walmart, Home Depot, etc., is quite hellish and I can't figure out its allure at all, aside from being close to Walmart, Home Depot, etc. And cheaper housing with land, I guess. Raleigh is assuredly like every other major metropolitan area, with crappy strip developments and subdivisions out to the horizon. So, as long as I live in Raleigh as opposed to Durham or Chapel Hill, I'll stay inside the belt line. It's nice and decent-looking (it's not as naturally "gifted" as say Portland Oregon, as historic as Cambridge, or as jazzy/exciting as pre-Katrina New Orleans) with hills and trees, older areas and newer areas; it has a lot of potential that is unrealized, putting it more in line with a Richmond or Worcester. It's unpretentious and comfortable but I could stand to see it take the next step and start spending some real $$ to make it look like a capital city with a little more care about its image.
So, that's what things are like so far. It's not a sweeping endorsement of moving here, I acknowledge, but also not a negative outlook. Like Raleigh itself, life in Raleigh is a middle-of-the-road experience. It's good. Not awesome, not horrible, and generally better than worse. I'll touch back in a week after I've commuted five days straight and we'll see if the needle is still pointing to "medium." I'll get to start spending money, going out, making work friends, but I'll also get road weary... so, like most of this, it's anybody's guess!
Hot enough for ya? Yeah, so of course everyone I've talked to since I decided to move South has been like, "you know, it gets hot down there! And the humidity!" Well, no shit. It has been hot, and humid even, too. In fact, it's been consistently about five degrees (oh no!) hotter here than back in Mass. at the same time--sometimes ten degrees, but not as often. Sometimes it's been hotter in Mass. than here. More often, hotter here than there. You know what? It's the middle of fucking summer. It's hot just about everywhere. It's outrageously hot in the Midwest right now. Relative to outrageous, it's actually quite comfortable here. And in winter? Yep, it gets cold here, for sure. You know what? It gets cold here for a month and a half. Not five months. And no one ever seems to joke and rib about "Cold enough for ya?" because cold isn't funny. Cold makes you lose toes. Heat makes you sweat. And maybe a layer or two of skin if you're not careful. So, if you want to think I'm a nut for moving into the heat, concentrate on the fact that the weather NEVER CHANGES here during the summer. In Mass., you can have three days of 90+, followed by a single day of 65 and drizzle, followed by two spectacular 75 degree days. If you like any of those scenarios, you'll be happy for a day or three out of a week. In Raleigh, it's 91 and sunny EVERY DAY, with a slight chance of afternoon thunderstorms EVERY DAY, with a low at night of 72 EVERY DAY. So if you don't like that, you're pretty screwed until fall comes. Personally, it's been ok with me so far, aside from the unbroken consistency. I'd like it to mix up a bit more. But down here, you step under a tree (shade) and it's the best. The power of shade is something I didn't realize. And when there's a breeze, it doesn't destroy the day like in Cambridge. It's pleasant but you can still read the paper on the porch without it blowing away. So that's what it's like right now. Hot, yes. Humid, pretty much. Consistent, very. Hard to bear, not at all. And I still have my windows open every night, comfortably.
So, what's it like... you know, doing anything besides watching TV? I have to admit, I haven't done much here yet. Without an income, I've been reticent to go out to eat or drink much or buy lots of stuff, though I have done that within limits. Most of my pre-job life here has been doing relocation "business" like dealing with the DMV, getting insurance, job interviews, meetings with people who will be important to my career/life here, shopping for necessities... none of that's been a particular hassel aside from what I've already written about (in fact, getting my car registered after I got my license took about three minutes... the bureaucrats taking a smoking break outside when I went in were still mid-cigarette when I strolled out with my new plates). I do acknowledge that, for the most part, things move slower here. There is not as much immediacy to getting things done, contacting people... the local cable TV hotline often has a busy signal(!!) often. And yet the local rush hour--and it is close to an hour, maybe a bit longer--is early, both morning and evening, compared to the hours-long rushes in Boston. So I think there's a higher value here on time spent doing stuff at home or at least not at work--maybe a slightly more European attitude towards priorities.
My outside-of-home life has largely been spent at the YMCA, which is a bit sad because that's only an hour a day, including the walk or drive down there (the walk, which I'll only be able to do on weekends from now on, is a highlight of my day because it's just the right length and a great neighborhood to stroll through). I played volleyball with the pick-up league on Tuesday night, which was great and hopefully a repeatable weekly activity. The YMCA building is brand new--still a phase under construction with a pool--and it is light years from ye olde Cambridge Y in terms of facilities, equipment, and activity amongst all ages and types of people. If it wasn't weird, I would hang out there more, but it is so I won't.
What about the city and the environs? To be honest, I've only been able to come up with reasons to go downtown a few times, mostly to interview or meet with people. I did go to the state natural science museum to see the Dead Sea Scrolls... but honestly, until/unless I work there, there isn't much reason to go to downtown proper--much like living near Boston. I mean, it's a great little city and bound to get better, but I get what I need between the two neighborhood centers where I live (on the west edge of downtown). The environs are... first, I haven't visited many other neighborhoods, which I plan to in weekends between now and deciding whether or not to stay. But that's all Inside the Belt Line (IBL). Outside, which I've had to visit to find a Walmart, Home Depot, etc., is quite hellish and I can't figure out its allure at all, aside from being close to Walmart, Home Depot, etc. And cheaper housing with land, I guess. Raleigh is assuredly like every other major metropolitan area, with crappy strip developments and subdivisions out to the horizon. So, as long as I live in Raleigh as opposed to Durham or Chapel Hill, I'll stay inside the belt line. It's nice and decent-looking (it's not as naturally "gifted" as say Portland Oregon, as historic as Cambridge, or as jazzy/exciting as pre-Katrina New Orleans) with hills and trees, older areas and newer areas; it has a lot of potential that is unrealized, putting it more in line with a Richmond or Worcester. It's unpretentious and comfortable but I could stand to see it take the next step and start spending some real $$ to make it look like a capital city with a little more care about its image.
So, that's what things are like so far. It's not a sweeping endorsement of moving here, I acknowledge, but also not a negative outlook. Like Raleigh itself, life in Raleigh is a middle-of-the-road experience. It's good. Not awesome, not horrible, and generally better than worse. I'll touch back in a week after I've commuted five days straight and we'll see if the needle is still pointing to "medium." I'll get to start spending money, going out, making work friends, but I'll also get road weary... so, like most of this, it's anybody's guess!
Monday, July 21, 2008
What I Want: Home
Being out of work for several weeks has afforded me the opportunity to be more reflective about what I want out of life (because I'm only spending about fifteen minutes a day dealing with actual, immediate life-sustenance... what else is there to do besides watch TV?). So I've been allowing myself to develop a mental image of an idealized future life in all its components--home, work, relationships, lifestyle, etc. I can't say I've developed this fantasy in any great level of detail, or at least there's only so much I can keep in my head at once before some of it has to get written down. I'm a little reluctant to actually write any of it down, because an idealized life is a moving target... what tickles my armpit today may not tomorrow. Then again, maybe that's as good a reason as any to document it. Perhaps I can mock myself derisively at some future moment of unemployment. But certainly the point isn't to create a wish list or to-do list, but rather to start coloring the image in my mind. To the extent that it starts influencing my life decisions, it may not be a bad "planning" tool. Here goes the "What I Want: Home" segment of the fantasy:
- I want a house someday. How... American! Yuppie! Phony! Sure, but when I imagine the movie scene that is a representation of my everyday life, I see me in a small, kinda crummy old house. It's in a city--one of those old timey in-city neighborhoods that is neither ritzy nor squalid. The paint is peeling in places, but for the most part it's a neatly kept house with some charm. For whatever reason, I have gray hair, am wearing blue jean shorts with a hanky out the back, and appear a little crazy (like Christopher Lloyd, only a little heavier-set). I think I'm yelling to myself, or perhaps at someone in the house while I'm out in the driveway. I DO NOT wear blue jean shorts, so I guess some revolution must have to happen.
- There's a driveway. It must lead to a garage, because I'm sure I want a garage... not so much for a car (more on the later) but rather for a shop. I want a project shop. Not necessarily dedicated to woodworking, although I'm sure there would be a saw or something. Just a place to get inspired to make stuff and then quickly lose interest, thereby piling up strata of unfinished work. A place that is separate from the rest of the world, probably with big weedy bushes growing around it. And yet still a neatly kept place... hmm, something about neat today. Does strata negate neat?
- I'd have a car, and there would be a place for it in the garage, but it would always be covered with stuff that makes it inconvenient to move. That's my natural defense against overusing the car--keep it hidden in the garage under stuff, and that way I'll only use it when it has to be used. It looks like a black 2003 Hyundai, so I guess I never get a new car. Ever.
- I like modernish furniture--in keeping with the neat motif--but I don't see myself growing into middle age with "sleak" style. Dark woods and cubic stuff seems like it'd make sense right now, but in the future I think it'll be a mixed bag of worn-out furnishings. I can't really have nice things, because I never take good enough care of any of it. It's stuff. It holds up other stuff. How precious can it be?
- The house will need to be in a well-serviced neighborhood, that is, walkable to everything I need. Which will make this either a very rare situation or a very expensive one--back to paying a premium for crummy housing! A grocery store, pharmacy, library, restaurant, bar, post office--it all has to be around. I don't really care if it's a ye olde village or just a decent plaza that is at the end of a sidewalk. But it has to be comfortable with no pretentions. If I want a gin & tonic, I don't want funny looks when I come in in my jean shorts and hanky, probably with socks pulled up way too high. Just give me the damn drink, Mac.
- I want a comfortable outdoor patio or porch. I want things growing on it, giving me shade in the summer, and I want to use this space from St. Patrick's Day on to at least Veteran's Day. I want a comfy chair out there, a crossword puzzle I can't finish, and a cup of coffee if it's the morning or a glass of wine if it's afternoon. I want the fucking cat to sit out there without having to be leashed to it.
- I want a small yard that feels like a courtyard. Just big enough to have a slightly dangerous game of volleyball that can be observed from the patio or porch, with maybe one end of the net hung off the side of the garage.
- I want enough scraggy trees behind the garage that it feels like woods but isn't... like, if there's a child in this equation, they grow up thinking that they live next to some woods with a little trail or swamp, but then come home from college one day and realize that it's just a few trees and bushes. The old hike across the block to their friend's house? Mere steps through the trees to an adult.
- I want the house to be small, just big enough for what I need and that's it. Extra space bothers me, like a domestic black hole. It begs to be filled, but you know what? I have nothing more for you, black hole! You'll have to be empty!
- My house cannot be new, or at least not designed new for me. I need a project to lose interest in. I need several projects to lose interest in. I need a house that understands that it is imperfect and not ideally suited to me, but that we're going to break each other in. I'll fix you, you break my will, and that'll be good enough.
- I want a house that calms my restlessness. I want a house that cures boredom-induced pacing. When I feel like staying in, I want my home to make up reasons to keep me in so I don't feel like I'm wasting a nice outside day. Break a little, or creak funny, or come up with an odd smell to investigate. And when I actually feel like being outside, the house needs to give me a reason to be outside... the sound of rain and thunder over a metal porch roof? A perfect ray of sunshine on the patio in the emerging spring? Support my subconscious whims, house, and don't let me second guess them.
- I want real wood blinds. I am so sick of cheap plastic, metal, or bamboo shades, miniblinds, valences, etc. etc. Give me a nice light-stained, inch-and-a-half wide SLAT. I want it to sound like a fucking Jacobs Ladder when I pull them up. I never want another bent or broken blind that makes my home look abandoned (thanks, Fenway..). And closed miniblinds, unbent, are not much better. They say to the world "I would rather look at white plastic then let the world see into my home for even a second." Everywhere I look, it's like a wall of spite for the outdoors. At least make them wood so I don't have to see naked plastic.
- I want my home to be alright. I don't want a nice house, or a peculiar house, or an avant-garde house, or a period house, or a McMansion house. Nor do I want a hazard house or a haunted house or a mobile house. No ripped window screens, no broken windows. Just alright. How about this: a converted house? A house that used to be something else, but not something big or strange? A house that used to be an old-time fire station, but not one of those historic register things that's totally redone inside with period colors and fixtures, just something that's old, has some character, felt neglected... ready for a symbiotic relationship that won't bring back its glory but will keep it from total obscurity...
Stomach tells me it's dinner time, so off I go. Next up: Work? Maybe...
- I want a house someday. How... American! Yuppie! Phony! Sure, but when I imagine the movie scene that is a representation of my everyday life, I see me in a small, kinda crummy old house. It's in a city--one of those old timey in-city neighborhoods that is neither ritzy nor squalid. The paint is peeling in places, but for the most part it's a neatly kept house with some charm. For whatever reason, I have gray hair, am wearing blue jean shorts with a hanky out the back, and appear a little crazy (like Christopher Lloyd, only a little heavier-set). I think I'm yelling to myself, or perhaps at someone in the house while I'm out in the driveway. I DO NOT wear blue jean shorts, so I guess some revolution must have to happen.
- There's a driveway. It must lead to a garage, because I'm sure I want a garage... not so much for a car (more on the later) but rather for a shop. I want a project shop. Not necessarily dedicated to woodworking, although I'm sure there would be a saw or something. Just a place to get inspired to make stuff and then quickly lose interest, thereby piling up strata of unfinished work. A place that is separate from the rest of the world, probably with big weedy bushes growing around it. And yet still a neatly kept place... hmm, something about neat today. Does strata negate neat?
- I'd have a car, and there would be a place for it in the garage, but it would always be covered with stuff that makes it inconvenient to move. That's my natural defense against overusing the car--keep it hidden in the garage under stuff, and that way I'll only use it when it has to be used. It looks like a black 2003 Hyundai, so I guess I never get a new car. Ever.
- I like modernish furniture--in keeping with the neat motif--but I don't see myself growing into middle age with "sleak" style. Dark woods and cubic stuff seems like it'd make sense right now, but in the future I think it'll be a mixed bag of worn-out furnishings. I can't really have nice things, because I never take good enough care of any of it. It's stuff. It holds up other stuff. How precious can it be?
- The house will need to be in a well-serviced neighborhood, that is, walkable to everything I need. Which will make this either a very rare situation or a very expensive one--back to paying a premium for crummy housing! A grocery store, pharmacy, library, restaurant, bar, post office--it all has to be around. I don't really care if it's a ye olde village or just a decent plaza that is at the end of a sidewalk. But it has to be comfortable with no pretentions. If I want a gin & tonic, I don't want funny looks when I come in in my jean shorts and hanky, probably with socks pulled up way too high. Just give me the damn drink, Mac.
- I want a comfortable outdoor patio or porch. I want things growing on it, giving me shade in the summer, and I want to use this space from St. Patrick's Day on to at least Veteran's Day. I want a comfy chair out there, a crossword puzzle I can't finish, and a cup of coffee if it's the morning or a glass of wine if it's afternoon. I want the fucking cat to sit out there without having to be leashed to it.
- I want a small yard that feels like a courtyard. Just big enough to have a slightly dangerous game of volleyball that can be observed from the patio or porch, with maybe one end of the net hung off the side of the garage.
- I want enough scraggy trees behind the garage that it feels like woods but isn't... like, if there's a child in this equation, they grow up thinking that they live next to some woods with a little trail or swamp, but then come home from college one day and realize that it's just a few trees and bushes. The old hike across the block to their friend's house? Mere steps through the trees to an adult.
- I want the house to be small, just big enough for what I need and that's it. Extra space bothers me, like a domestic black hole. It begs to be filled, but you know what? I have nothing more for you, black hole! You'll have to be empty!
- My house cannot be new, or at least not designed new for me. I need a project to lose interest in. I need several projects to lose interest in. I need a house that understands that it is imperfect and not ideally suited to me, but that we're going to break each other in. I'll fix you, you break my will, and that'll be good enough.
- I want a house that calms my restlessness. I want a house that cures boredom-induced pacing. When I feel like staying in, I want my home to make up reasons to keep me in so I don't feel like I'm wasting a nice outside day. Break a little, or creak funny, or come up with an odd smell to investigate. And when I actually feel like being outside, the house needs to give me a reason to be outside... the sound of rain and thunder over a metal porch roof? A perfect ray of sunshine on the patio in the emerging spring? Support my subconscious whims, house, and don't let me second guess them.
- I want real wood blinds. I am so sick of cheap plastic, metal, or bamboo shades, miniblinds, valences, etc. etc. Give me a nice light-stained, inch-and-a-half wide SLAT. I want it to sound like a fucking Jacobs Ladder when I pull them up. I never want another bent or broken blind that makes my home look abandoned (thanks, Fenway..). And closed miniblinds, unbent, are not much better. They say to the world "I would rather look at white plastic then let the world see into my home for even a second." Everywhere I look, it's like a wall of spite for the outdoors. At least make them wood so I don't have to see naked plastic.
- I want my home to be alright. I don't want a nice house, or a peculiar house, or an avant-garde house, or a period house, or a McMansion house. Nor do I want a hazard house or a haunted house or a mobile house. No ripped window screens, no broken windows. Just alright. How about this: a converted house? A house that used to be something else, but not something big or strange? A house that used to be an old-time fire station, but not one of those historic register things that's totally redone inside with period colors and fixtures, just something that's old, has some character, felt neglected... ready for a symbiotic relationship that won't bring back its glory but will keep it from total obscurity...
Stomach tells me it's dinner time, so off I go. Next up: Work? Maybe...
DVR Danger
Not a good combo: a DVR mixed with an unemployed yet goal-oriented obsessive-compulsive personality.
I MUST CHECK ITEMS OFF MY LIST!! Keep going until they're all gone... WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!
I MUST CHECK ITEMS OFF MY LIST!! Keep going until they're all gone... WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Back to Work
I accepted a job offer yesterday! on July 28 I'll be working at The Freelon Group, a very highly-respected, design-focused architecture firm out in RTP (Research Triangle Park). Though I've never been a big fan of work, I am a big fan of not being bored and poor, so I'm eager to get back into it and start taking steps towards the primary objective this year--licensure. Practicing architecture and being surrounded by architects will certainly help.
To celebrate, I went out to eat at the Cameron Bar & Grill, which is one of the dozen restaurants at the shopping area Cameron Village down the road from my apartment. As usual, I decided to walk. I made it about a hundred feet from the apartment when the first outer swipe of the new tropical storm headed in from the south and just dumped water all over the place. I made it to the restaurant before the sky really opened up; it rained so hard that the satellite TV service in the bar shut down for five minutes. I was looking forward to dessert after my burger, but managed to misconvey to the bartender that I was done eating. I stopped back at Rite Aid on my way home and bought wine and a box of Fiddle Faddle to continue the celebration... not a good mix, by the way. Don't know why I didn't see that coming... so I saved the wine for this weekend and mowed the Fiddle Faddle watching The Simpsons. Quite a fitting celebration. Oh, by the way, the rain had stopped by the time I left the bar, so I didn't get any wetter.
I'm now two weeks into my life here in Raleigh, and although they are certain to be uncharacteristic weeks when viewed across my broader time here, I'm feeling optimistic about the potential there is to be happy here. I recently noted that, unlike in Cambridge, I am not always angry here. That anger ranged from pissiness at work, sidewalk rage, landlord/apartment-related anger, weather fatigue, etc. and was perhaps only lessened by the narcotic of TV. So far in Raleigh, that anger has been largely replaced by fear and apprehension... which most people would think is not a great swap, but for me, fear ebbs much quicker than anger does. Which means that the next few weeks and months have great potential to be... pleasant? After that, who knows if I'll slide back into my standard mode of finding things to be angry about. The fact that I'll be shocking my system with a series of professional exams over the next year makes me think I can keep the apprehension up long enough to forestall the anger. Baby steps!
To celebrate, I went out to eat at the Cameron Bar & Grill, which is one of the dozen restaurants at the shopping area Cameron Village down the road from my apartment. As usual, I decided to walk. I made it about a hundred feet from the apartment when the first outer swipe of the new tropical storm headed in from the south and just dumped water all over the place. I made it to the restaurant before the sky really opened up; it rained so hard that the satellite TV service in the bar shut down for five minutes. I was looking forward to dessert after my burger, but managed to misconvey to the bartender that I was done eating. I stopped back at Rite Aid on my way home and bought wine and a box of Fiddle Faddle to continue the celebration... not a good mix, by the way. Don't know why I didn't see that coming... so I saved the wine for this weekend and mowed the Fiddle Faddle watching The Simpsons. Quite a fitting celebration. Oh, by the way, the rain had stopped by the time I left the bar, so I didn't get any wetter.
I'm now two weeks into my life here in Raleigh, and although they are certain to be uncharacteristic weeks when viewed across my broader time here, I'm feeling optimistic about the potential there is to be happy here. I recently noted that, unlike in Cambridge, I am not always angry here. That anger ranged from pissiness at work, sidewalk rage, landlord/apartment-related anger, weather fatigue, etc. and was perhaps only lessened by the narcotic of TV. So far in Raleigh, that anger has been largely replaced by fear and apprehension... which most people would think is not a great swap, but for me, fear ebbs much quicker than anger does. Which means that the next few weeks and months have great potential to be... pleasant? After that, who knows if I'll slide back into my standard mode of finding things to be angry about. The fact that I'll be shocking my system with a series of professional exams over the next year makes me think I can keep the apprehension up long enough to forestall the anger. Baby steps!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Ways that Paul Sucks at Interviewing
by Paul's Inner Monologue, amidst an interview
Paul is not very good at interviewing. Allow me to point out key errors as we encounter them.
1. Witness Paul sitting in his car in the parking lot. Paul is a half hour early to his latest interview. Again. In the past, Paul would actually check in at the reception desk a half hour early, leaving him waiting uneasily for a long period of time for his inevitably late interviewer. Now Paul has the sense to wait in the car and not seem such a desperate soul in the waiting room... unless, that is, anyone on the staff notices the strange man in the parking lot. Even after waiting in the car, Paul still checks in fifteen minutes too early. Paul tends to creep out receptionists who are used to people showing up five minutes late to everything.
2. Paul has not practiced his talking points, as you can tell by the stony silence after his greetings with the interviewer. In fact, Paul has no talking points. He awaits prompting from his interviewer on everything, from introductory small talk to presenting his past work samples. Paul waits while his interviewer synthesizes a scattershot of information about past work, level of experience, and skill sets rather than explicitly stating how he can be of service to the hiring organization. When coupled with an underprepared and inexperienced interviewer, it's a wonder that any relevant information is being exchanged and contextualized throughout the interview.
3. Upon realizing that he is not being a proactive interviewee, Paul loses his facility with the English language as he attempts to fill silence with an abundance of words. All his skills become "I'm good at," his experiences become "I've done that," his goals become "I'd like to do that." You'll note the excessive repetition of simple turns of phrase, a slimming down in the level of detail of responses, and heavy breathing between run-on sentences.
4. Notice the contortion of facial expressions evident in the final half of the interview. At this point, Paul has attempted to smile continuously for nearly a half hour, even during his lengthy responses, and his facial muscles are beginning to strain and cramp. Worried that this may belie his normally flat countenance, Paul attempts to "jog" his facial muscles during the interview, resulting in a mosaic of unusual and uncomfortable-looking expressions. Paul's self-consciousness of his predicament causes him to begin frowning and squinting at just the moment of the interview where projecting confidence and optimism are most important. Notice how lava-lampesque facial contortions have set off subconscious reflective expressions on his interviewer's face.
5. Paul's constant and unpointed talking in addition to his facial gymnastics have left him too exhausted to put an important punctuation of the end of the interview. There is no discussion of next steps, timeframes, another meeting date, just a polite thank-you, a collecting of papers, and a speedy exit. Paul has failed to make a positive in-person impression.
6. Paul goes back to his car in the parking lot and immediately diagnoses the major errors in his performance. His final mistake: not writing down his diagnosis in the hopes it will improve his efforts at the next interview.
Paul is not very good at interviewing. Allow me to point out key errors as we encounter them.
1. Witness Paul sitting in his car in the parking lot. Paul is a half hour early to his latest interview. Again. In the past, Paul would actually check in at the reception desk a half hour early, leaving him waiting uneasily for a long period of time for his inevitably late interviewer. Now Paul has the sense to wait in the car and not seem such a desperate soul in the waiting room... unless, that is, anyone on the staff notices the strange man in the parking lot. Even after waiting in the car, Paul still checks in fifteen minutes too early. Paul tends to creep out receptionists who are used to people showing up five minutes late to everything.
2. Paul has not practiced his talking points, as you can tell by the stony silence after his greetings with the interviewer. In fact, Paul has no talking points. He awaits prompting from his interviewer on everything, from introductory small talk to presenting his past work samples. Paul waits while his interviewer synthesizes a scattershot of information about past work, level of experience, and skill sets rather than explicitly stating how he can be of service to the hiring organization. When coupled with an underprepared and inexperienced interviewer, it's a wonder that any relevant information is being exchanged and contextualized throughout the interview.
3. Upon realizing that he is not being a proactive interviewee, Paul loses his facility with the English language as he attempts to fill silence with an abundance of words. All his skills become "I'm good at," his experiences become "I've done that," his goals become "I'd like to do that." You'll note the excessive repetition of simple turns of phrase, a slimming down in the level of detail of responses, and heavy breathing between run-on sentences.
4. Notice the contortion of facial expressions evident in the final half of the interview. At this point, Paul has attempted to smile continuously for nearly a half hour, even during his lengthy responses, and his facial muscles are beginning to strain and cramp. Worried that this may belie his normally flat countenance, Paul attempts to "jog" his facial muscles during the interview, resulting in a mosaic of unusual and uncomfortable-looking expressions. Paul's self-consciousness of his predicament causes him to begin frowning and squinting at just the moment of the interview where projecting confidence and optimism are most important. Notice how lava-lampesque facial contortions have set off subconscious reflective expressions on his interviewer's face.
5. Paul's constant and unpointed talking in addition to his facial gymnastics have left him too exhausted to put an important punctuation of the end of the interview. There is no discussion of next steps, timeframes, another meeting date, just a polite thank-you, a collecting of papers, and a speedy exit. Paul has failed to make a positive in-person impression.
6. Paul goes back to his car in the parking lot and immediately diagnoses the major errors in his performance. His final mistake: not writing down his diagnosis in the hopes it will improve his efforts at the next interview.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
It's a shopping cart, folks. For groceries.
I've gotten over the stares I get for walking places. I get it; normal people here own and drive cars, it saves them time, it's more comfortable, they can listen to the radio. People walking on the sidewalk around here are poor or have had their license suspended, or both. Or are trying to get exercise (you can tell because everyone here has an outdoor exercise uniform that includes soccer shorts, a light-colored T-shirt, sneakers, and a hair scrunchie). But I rest assured that as gas gets more expensive, more jeans-wearing folk will accompany me on the sidewalks.
I still can't get over the expressions of bewilderment and novelty that I get when I take my bag-lady cart out to the supermarket, though. It's a shopping cart, folks. For groceries. I walk it down to the Harris Teeter (heh heh, teeter) from my apartment, load it up with groceries, and then walk it back up. I mean, I can understand if this is the first time you've seen this particular type of shopping cart, which stands upright and holds no more than a single's average week's consumption of food... but do you have to be so, so... surprised? Is it really that great a conceptual leap from, say, the much larger black wire-grate shopping cart YOU have here in the store? Or that roller-board suitcase you bring to the airport that is the EXACT SAME SIZE AND SHAPE? Yes, it has WHEELS! And I put STUFF in it!! And I take the stuff HOME in it! And it keeps my fingers from looking like RED LINK SAUSAGES from carrying ten plastic bags of food a mile back to my home! But it really is just too much for some people. They feel they must comment on it, as if I was wearing traditional ceremonial garb from a trip to Kenya or something. "My, isn't that something! Are you a 'moslem'?"
When the forces of the Northeast come to conquer and subdue this new land, this new colony, as we have already begun, small bag-lady shopping carts will be standard issue equipment. We will literally paralyze these locals with shock and awe. And save our fingers while we do it.
I still can't get over the expressions of bewilderment and novelty that I get when I take my bag-lady cart out to the supermarket, though. It's a shopping cart, folks. For groceries. I walk it down to the Harris Teeter (heh heh, teeter) from my apartment, load it up with groceries, and then walk it back up. I mean, I can understand if this is the first time you've seen this particular type of shopping cart, which stands upright and holds no more than a single's average week's consumption of food... but do you have to be so, so... surprised? Is it really that great a conceptual leap from, say, the much larger black wire-grate shopping cart YOU have here in the store? Or that roller-board suitcase you bring to the airport that is the EXACT SAME SIZE AND SHAPE? Yes, it has WHEELS! And I put STUFF in it!! And I take the stuff HOME in it! And it keeps my fingers from looking like RED LINK SAUSAGES from carrying ten plastic bags of food a mile back to my home! But it really is just too much for some people. They feel they must comment on it, as if I was wearing traditional ceremonial garb from a trip to Kenya or something. "My, isn't that something! Are you a 'moslem'?"
When the forces of the Northeast come to conquer and subdue this new land, this new colony, as we have already begun, small bag-lady shopping carts will be standard issue equipment. We will literally paralyze these locals with shock and awe. And save our fingers while we do it.
Friday, July 11, 2008
An Irishman Tries to Sell Me Insurance
I was supposed to have a job interview this afternoon, but it was postponed... that's about how my job search is going now. My list of interesting job prospects is shrinking daily, so as you can imagine, I'm not quite as optimistic as when I convinced myself to move. I guess that's part of the game.
Instead of heading to the postponed interview, I was instead visited by an Irishman who wanted to sell me insurance. In the process of researching health insurance options over the past few days, I had inadvertently posted my contact information with a big "kick me" sign on its back amidst the Internet, and was contact by this guy with a notable accent who was an agent for an insurance provider I had never heard of before. Before I knew it, this guy had invited himself over to my apartment to show me some brochures and give me an insurance quote. Eh, I figured... it's not like anything else is going right, so why not?
The guy, who was either an Irishman or a subdued Scot, made note of the dogness of my cat and the bareness of my apartment, which should have offended me quite enough to send him away right off the bat. But, feeling residual desperation from my job search creep into my health insurance search, I gave him the benefit of pitching me his wares. Now, mind you, I have no experience buying health insurance; I've always worked somewhere where you have no choice and I just get what's given to me. So I've had to learn pretty quick what deductibles are about, what coinsurance is, why I would want or not want a copay, etc. etc. I'm sure this guy could see my green, and he was happy to put his fast-talking Irishman ways with language into full effect in order to sell me some insurance. He pointed here, and then there, and then at this brochure and then that page of the other one, saying how this all added up to the best fucking insurance deal anyone in Raleigh has ever seen.
Anyone who knows me knows I don't jump in the water without knowing its temparature, pH level, and carnivorous fauna first, so I started stalling.
"Oh, yes, well, I'll have to digest this some before I can sign up for anything," I meeped. But he pushed it.
"Aye, yea, well, lemme get ee calculator oot nay and help yee digest it, em then! Fridaye afternoon st a grand tyme ti make ae decision, then!" he countered. So I went for a more analytic tack.
"Why does your policy say I have to pay the deductible three times up before I get coverage? I don't think Blue Cross does that."
"Oooh, but that there's comparin' apples and ooranges, son. If ya don't wanna pay up thee deductible thrice before ya get cooverage, thah, you won' be wantin' this poolicy anywae!"
He used his laptop to calculate up a quote for the policy I wasn't interested in, and it turned out to be fairly expensive per month anyway. He must have seen my soul die a little more when he showed it and decided I was sunk, so he started packing up his brochures. I told him I'd be happy to look over the information in more detail after he left, but he'd have none of it.
"This poolicy ain't fah yee, I can tell 'lready, son. When I present, I usully see folks intrest'd in a few minutes, and I can tell yah ain't intrest'd. Are yah an engineer then, son? Yah seem very analytical..."
So I showed the Irishman out and immediately decided that I couldn't go wrong with buying the same insurance that 75% of my neighbors have, which is Blue Cross. In investigating the reviews that customers give local health insurers, Blue Cross has a solid 45% "greatly dissatisfied" rate--very predictablly poor, like the cable company. Of course, the company the Irishman represents has a far superior rating, but who the hell knows them anyway?
Instead of heading to the postponed interview, I was instead visited by an Irishman who wanted to sell me insurance. In the process of researching health insurance options over the past few days, I had inadvertently posted my contact information with a big "kick me" sign on its back amidst the Internet, and was contact by this guy with a notable accent who was an agent for an insurance provider I had never heard of before. Before I knew it, this guy had invited himself over to my apartment to show me some brochures and give me an insurance quote. Eh, I figured... it's not like anything else is going right, so why not?
The guy, who was either an Irishman or a subdued Scot, made note of the dogness of my cat and the bareness of my apartment, which should have offended me quite enough to send him away right off the bat. But, feeling residual desperation from my job search creep into my health insurance search, I gave him the benefit of pitching me his wares. Now, mind you, I have no experience buying health insurance; I've always worked somewhere where you have no choice and I just get what's given to me. So I've had to learn pretty quick what deductibles are about, what coinsurance is, why I would want or not want a copay, etc. etc. I'm sure this guy could see my green, and he was happy to put his fast-talking Irishman ways with language into full effect in order to sell me some insurance. He pointed here, and then there, and then at this brochure and then that page of the other one, saying how this all added up to the best fucking insurance deal anyone in Raleigh has ever seen.
Anyone who knows me knows I don't jump in the water without knowing its temparature, pH level, and carnivorous fauna first, so I started stalling.
"Oh, yes, well, I'll have to digest this some before I can sign up for anything," I meeped. But he pushed it.
"Aye, yea, well, lemme get ee calculator oot nay and help yee digest it, em then! Fridaye afternoon st a grand tyme ti make ae decision, then!" he countered. So I went for a more analytic tack.
"Why does your policy say I have to pay the deductible three times up before I get coverage? I don't think Blue Cross does that."
"Oooh, but that there's comparin' apples and ooranges, son. If ya don't wanna pay up thee deductible thrice before ya get cooverage, thah, you won' be wantin' this poolicy anywae!"
He used his laptop to calculate up a quote for the policy I wasn't interested in, and it turned out to be fairly expensive per month anyway. He must have seen my soul die a little more when he showed it and decided I was sunk, so he started packing up his brochures. I told him I'd be happy to look over the information in more detail after he left, but he'd have none of it.
"This poolicy ain't fah yee, I can tell 'lready, son. When I present, I usully see folks intrest'd in a few minutes, and I can tell yah ain't intrest'd. Are yah an engineer then, son? Yah seem very analytical..."
So I showed the Irishman out and immediately decided that I couldn't go wrong with buying the same insurance that 75% of my neighbors have, which is Blue Cross. In investigating the reviews that customers give local health insurers, Blue Cross has a solid 45% "greatly dissatisfied" rate--very predictablly poor, like the cable company. Of course, the company the Irishman represents has a far superior rating, but who the hell knows them anyway?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Hell is Air Conditioned
Today, after my scrumptious bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats, I headed out to DMV headquarters to get my brand spanky new North Carolina drivers license. It was about 9:15ish AM, and the place seemed pretty quiet for a DMV, so I was optimistic about getting out of there fast. Boy, was I right! After I read a sign outside that said "No Licenses Are Issued At This Facility" and confirmed that fact inside, I was out of there in two minutes, tops. Probably my shortest DMV visit ever.
So instead I had to drive all the way to North Raleigh, which I guess is supposed to be close by local standards. The DMV has a storefront in an otherwise unremarkable shopping plaza, and as I joined the line inside the front door, I got my first in-person look at North Carolinian beaucratic machinations. Essentially, there are two groups here--those who have to wait at the door to get their deli ticket number, and those who have to sit in the plastic chairs holding their deli ticket numbers while they wait to get called upon. It was kinda a mix of pre-movie theater waiting (complete with repeating trivia questions scrolling across a marquee screen), an exceptionally long bank teller line, a deli with no food or beverage, and... well, a DMV, I guess. It had all the hallmarks of hell on earth, including screaming children, drug-addled wastoids, nervous teenagers, and DMV employees who seemed a little too happy to be there. But it was air conditioned.
I figured getting a new state's license would be a simple paperwork processing concern, with perhaps an eye exam. I almost failed the eye exam, by the way, even after I put the glasses on... apparently my face was not thrust far enough into the machine, so half the letters were literally not showing up. The nice large woman on the other side of the counter let it slide, but being sure I was not blind in my right eye, I took a second and third look and then realized I just wasn't being aggressive enough with the machine. I also failed to identify a round yellow sign with no writing on it as a RR XING sign. I didn't know I had to know stuff!! But she gave me the answer. Then she sent me to a testing seat!!!!
Ok, not a road test, although I think that may have been less stressful. It was a computerized multiple choice test, and I damn near didn't make it. I mean, there was zero warning that I would have to be more than conscious for this transaction, and now I'm answering questions about North Carolina road rules that I have no business knowing, much less abiding by. It came down to the wire--I had to get a full twenty of twenty-five questions right, and I cut it close. But I did make it, at which point they stripped me of my Massachusetts license, gave me a fresh NC license, and sent me on my way to continue ignoring all signs and rules I'm not familiar with.
And that was just for the license. I was too chicken shit to get my car registered at the same time, being a shaky mess after the test. So I go back tomorrow(?). I think I'll try the headquarters again--no sign that says "No Customer Services Offered At This Facility," so I figure I have a shot.
So instead I had to drive all the way to North Raleigh, which I guess is supposed to be close by local standards. The DMV has a storefront in an otherwise unremarkable shopping plaza, and as I joined the line inside the front door, I got my first in-person look at North Carolinian beaucratic machinations. Essentially, there are two groups here--those who have to wait at the door to get their deli ticket number, and those who have to sit in the plastic chairs holding their deli ticket numbers while they wait to get called upon. It was kinda a mix of pre-movie theater waiting (complete with repeating trivia questions scrolling across a marquee screen), an exceptionally long bank teller line, a deli with no food or beverage, and... well, a DMV, I guess. It had all the hallmarks of hell on earth, including screaming children, drug-addled wastoids, nervous teenagers, and DMV employees who seemed a little too happy to be there. But it was air conditioned.
I figured getting a new state's license would be a simple paperwork processing concern, with perhaps an eye exam. I almost failed the eye exam, by the way, even after I put the glasses on... apparently my face was not thrust far enough into the machine, so half the letters were literally not showing up. The nice large woman on the other side of the counter let it slide, but being sure I was not blind in my right eye, I took a second and third look and then realized I just wasn't being aggressive enough with the machine. I also failed to identify a round yellow sign with no writing on it as a RR XING sign. I didn't know I had to know stuff!! But she gave me the answer. Then she sent me to a testing seat!!!!
Ok, not a road test, although I think that may have been less stressful. It was a computerized multiple choice test, and I damn near didn't make it. I mean, there was zero warning that I would have to be more than conscious for this transaction, and now I'm answering questions about North Carolina road rules that I have no business knowing, much less abiding by. It came down to the wire--I had to get a full twenty of twenty-five questions right, and I cut it close. But I did make it, at which point they stripped me of my Massachusetts license, gave me a fresh NC license, and sent me on my way to continue ignoring all signs and rules I'm not familiar with.
And that was just for the license. I was too chicken shit to get my car registered at the same time, being a shaky mess after the test. So I go back tomorrow(?). I think I'll try the headquarters again--no sign that says "No Customer Services Offered At This Facility," so I figure I have a shot.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Breakfast in the New Colony
Today I had Honey Bunches of Oats cereal with skim milk for breakfast. Yesterday, same thing, and even the day before that. It's also what I had every single morning for breakfast for about the last two years. Never have a met a cereal I could tolerate every morning for more than a couple months at a time; those Honey Bunches of Oats people are fucking geniuses.
I've already devolved to writing about what I had for breakfast to introduce a theme that's been with me in the last couple weeks of moving, that is, the erosion and eventual stripping of all my day-to-day habits (for the most part). I stopped my near-daily exercising (no gym in the car). I stopped consuming caffeine with regularity (i.e., had coffee about once every two hours on the road, but not often at all while at rest). I stopped shaving every other day. I brushed my teeth when I damn well felt like it, which was probably still once a day but never at the same time!! I stopped checking my e-mail every ten minutes like an addict. I stopped eating fiber almost entirely, I think (including my awesome Honey Bunches of Oat supplement, sadly). I stopped going to bed at 10:30 sharp every night. I'm sure there are more things I stopped doing that, when summed up, describe what an outlandishly boring life I had, but you get the idea--things I did, whether good or bad, they all dried up in two weeks.
So I get here to Raleigh and have a golden opportunity to start all new habits... and I start eating Honey Bunches of Oats again. Well, that I don't regret too much, that shit is tasty. I was conscious of this new "power," though, so I thought I'd try to introduce some good habits I'd been holding back on in the past. Flossing is always a tough one to get going, so I'm working on that. I guess Windexing my bathroom mirror nightly is going to have to follow, lest it begin to look like a starfield screensaver. Shaving every morning is another, and I've had to fight to do that a mere three days running. Making food at home--oh, chore--so far, not bad, though it's Wednesday night and I've already run low on groceries. You get the idea. New, good habits.
So what would you do? Given the opportunity to completely destabilize your life for a couple weeks, how would you pick up the pieces? What would you go back to? Mind you, as I don't have a job yet, keeping a consistent schedule has not been important. When I do find a job, well... so long flossing, perhaps? I mean, that's two minutes I could be doing... work. Or eating Honey Bunches of Oats. That shit is just unreal, like a crunchy, six and a half minute, low-level orgasm. Can you imagine if I ate it with whole milk? Talk about a habit.
I've already devolved to writing about what I had for breakfast to introduce a theme that's been with me in the last couple weeks of moving, that is, the erosion and eventual stripping of all my day-to-day habits (for the most part). I stopped my near-daily exercising (no gym in the car). I stopped consuming caffeine with regularity (i.e., had coffee about once every two hours on the road, but not often at all while at rest). I stopped shaving every other day. I brushed my teeth when I damn well felt like it, which was probably still once a day but never at the same time!! I stopped checking my e-mail every ten minutes like an addict. I stopped eating fiber almost entirely, I think (including my awesome Honey Bunches of Oat supplement, sadly). I stopped going to bed at 10:30 sharp every night. I'm sure there are more things I stopped doing that, when summed up, describe what an outlandishly boring life I had, but you get the idea--things I did, whether good or bad, they all dried up in two weeks.
So I get here to Raleigh and have a golden opportunity to start all new habits... and I start eating Honey Bunches of Oats again. Well, that I don't regret too much, that shit is tasty. I was conscious of this new "power," though, so I thought I'd try to introduce some good habits I'd been holding back on in the past. Flossing is always a tough one to get going, so I'm working on that. I guess Windexing my bathroom mirror nightly is going to have to follow, lest it begin to look like a starfield screensaver. Shaving every morning is another, and I've had to fight to do that a mere three days running. Making food at home--oh, chore--so far, not bad, though it's Wednesday night and I've already run low on groceries. You get the idea. New, good habits.
So what would you do? Given the opportunity to completely destabilize your life for a couple weeks, how would you pick up the pieces? What would you go back to? Mind you, as I don't have a job yet, keeping a consistent schedule has not been important. When I do find a job, well... so long flossing, perhaps? I mean, that's two minutes I could be doing... work. Or eating Honey Bunches of Oats. That shit is just unreal, like a crunchy, six and a half minute, low-level orgasm. Can you imagine if I ate it with whole milk? Talk about a habit.
A New Colony Begins
I'm drawn to writing this blog first because I have some inexplicable romantic notion about leaving "home" and being off in some strange place all alone, second, because the idea of documenting this romantic notion and its inevitable plummet to the real world comes with its own romantic notion; and third, because it saves me having to e-mail everyone I know with the same damn stories.
I could have started writing more than a week ago. Actually, forget that; Time Warner cable was not cooperative on that, and although I like the Cameron Village branch of the Raleigh Library, I wasn't about to deplete my latop battery blogging from outside home. Certainly, though, I could have started writing several days ago and have often planned to but found other, less reflective passtimes, such as watching TV (Time Warner thwarts my blog again!), going to sleep early, angsting about getting a job, Facebooking, etc. etc. These are all excuses, though. I think what keeps me from writing is that I feel the need to blog profoundly. After all, who the hell would read about what I ate for breakfast? Especially if it's the same thing I had yesterday, and the same thing I had every day in Cambridge? Either I'm caught up in my own minutia, in which case I would rather spare myself and everyone else a full documentation, or something important is happening and I'm not sitting at my desk recording it. I guess that means that unless something amazing happens while I'm at my computer, this is going to be one very unwritten blog.
OH MY GOD! BIG BIRD JUST CRASHED THROUGH MY LIVING ROOM WINDOW!! Ok, no.
It's time to part with this notion of blogging/writing profoundly. If you choose to come back and stay with me here, profundity may make an appearance now and then, but it won't be standard operating procedure. Time for all of us to get wrapped up in the dumb life minutia of some 30-year-old guy who moved from Boston to Raleigh because he thought life might be better for it. Hey! I stopped referring to myself as a kid! I'm a guy now! Huh...
I could have started writing more than a week ago. Actually, forget that; Time Warner cable was not cooperative on that, and although I like the Cameron Village branch of the Raleigh Library, I wasn't about to deplete my latop battery blogging from outside home. Certainly, though, I could have started writing several days ago and have often planned to but found other, less reflective passtimes, such as watching TV (Time Warner thwarts my blog again!), going to sleep early, angsting about getting a job, Facebooking, etc. etc. These are all excuses, though. I think what keeps me from writing is that I feel the need to blog profoundly. After all, who the hell would read about what I ate for breakfast? Especially if it's the same thing I had yesterday, and the same thing I had every day in Cambridge? Either I'm caught up in my own minutia, in which case I would rather spare myself and everyone else a full documentation, or something important is happening and I'm not sitting at my desk recording it. I guess that means that unless something amazing happens while I'm at my computer, this is going to be one very unwritten blog.
OH MY GOD! BIG BIRD JUST CRASHED THROUGH MY LIVING ROOM WINDOW!! Ok, no.
It's time to part with this notion of blogging/writing profoundly. If you choose to come back and stay with me here, profundity may make an appearance now and then, but it won't be standard operating procedure. Time for all of us to get wrapped up in the dumb life minutia of some 30-year-old guy who moved from Boston to Raleigh because he thought life might be better for it. Hey! I stopped referring to myself as a kid! I'm a guy now! Huh...
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