Ponderings and Musings

I have never been one to enjoy talking on the phone. I don’t like calling people. I always feel awkward when I’m on a phone call. It’s ironic, because I work for a telephone company and I spend a good share of my week on conference calls, but I really don’t enjoy the sport.

Because I work for a telephone company, there’s motivational marketing messages hung around the building showing teenagers all giddy because they’re talking on a phone in their bedroom. The ads remind me of those ads from the 60s and 70s when Mom and Dad were rich enough to spring for a second line and a princess phone for the daughter, where she could talk from her bedroom. The kids of poor parents resorted to stretching the telephone cord across the kitchen and into the broom closet, where they could enjoy privacy. I have never had the urge to sit in a broom closet and the only excitement I feel about having a phone in the bedroom is that nowadays it’s usually a gadget phone so laden with extraneous features that it could double as a bidet.

My sister and her family are currently living in Italy. We have relatively affordable international calling plans on our phone but I’d rather just exchange email messages. In fact, I’m most comfortable exchanging email messages on most occasions. Sometimes a chat on an Instant Messenger or a video chat on Skype is nice, but in reality I’d just like to sit down and type what I’m thinking and then wait for a response at the leisure of the other party. I prefer email over Twitter direct messages and I really prefer email over Facebook messenger or whatever the hell that annoying thing that pops up everywhere is called. Email is starting to become the written letter of the 21st century; it takes time to sit down and write a coherent email that is worthy of attention. I write a couple of emails to Earl everyday. I usually sign them “Fondly”. He can feel the warmth and that gets us through until we can see each other.

I’ve never figured out why I don’t like talking on the telephone, by the way. I don’t know if it’s because of too many screwed up Chinese take-out orders or if it’s because I was called “ma’am” on one too many occasions prior to puberty or what because phone calls in general feel intrusive to me, but it’s something that I do because I must, not something that I enjoy.

Don’t tell the telephone company I work for that I don’t have a princess phone in our bedroom. I’ll have to hide in the broom closet or something.

As I move into my mid 40s this year (because 43 is not a mid-40s age, it’s still an early 40s age) I am slowly coming to the realization that my completely out-of-step existence with the rest of the world is becoming increasingly apparent; not because of my somewhat different thought processes or eccentric behavior, but rather because I think I’m getting too old for the ever-young gay demands of the community.

When I got home last night there were two stereos blasting in the house. Jamie listens to music that is not really my thing; I just hear gargling, shouting and guitars, but that’s just my take on it. There’s nothing wrong with the music, I just don’t go and seek it out, and because of the age difference between the two of us, I don’t find this surprising.

In the kitchen I heard the chipper jingle of “Kiss 108 FM!” After the chipper jingle all I heard was blips and bleeps and moaning sounds that were autotuned beyond any sort of musicality. I felt like someone was holding seashells up to my ears and then making trilling noises into a hole on the other side. I refrained from saying anything about this because it was obvious that Scott was enjoying Kiss 108 FM, heck, I enjoyed the station very much when I lived in Boston from 1988-1990, and I didn’t want to impede any efforts at supper that Scott was making. The thing is, Scott is a couple of years older than me and I couldn’t understand a word the robot on the radio was saying but Scott was singing right along. I couldn’t find the necessary capabilities within my brain to comprehend the electronic gargling sounds. I felt left out, old and obsolete.

Supper was quite tasty though.

A couple of weeks ago when Earl and I went on that really long ride in the Jeep, I actually looked at my watch towards the end of our dinner and made the claim, “Wow, it’s getting late!” It was 10:00 p.m. on a Saturday night. Ten years ago I would have been readying myself for a night of DJing at the local club, where I’d do my thing until 2:30 and then possibly go to an after-hours party after helping get the bar cleaned up. I’m sure that’s what the kids do today.

When did I become so obsolete?

The other night I watched a clip (in error) of “Bionic Woman”, that awful remake of the 70s show where Jaime Sommers wasn’t really acting like Jaime Sommers. The show was dark and menacing and Jamie seemed very angry. When she jumped up onto a building using her bionics, the camera pulled back so that you could see the leap of 30 feet or. The entire leap was shown from ground to roof and it was embarrassingly obvious that there were cables and harnesses involved that had been computer-erased from the scene. What happened to using a little bit of imagination when we are only shown the beginning of the leap and the landing on the roof? Though this is a poor example, is it bad to think that it’d be better to engage my imagination while watching a television show instead of painting everything in such an obvious manner, however poorly executed that demonstration might be?

And while I’m talking about harnesses; I look at these pictures of young guys on the internet wearing leather harnesses that just go across the top of their chest and around their shoulders. All I can see an ill fitting halter top like you’d find on a beach near a trailer park. I don’t find anything hot about these new, mini harnesses. My understanding is if you’re going to be wearing a harness, you’d better be ready to be hauled up into the air by it like some sort of Cirque du Soleil Sex Act. And am I completely obsolete by thinking of Mary Lou Retton (which most people these days would seemingly say, “Who?”) because I thought of a dismount eligible for scoring if you’re engaging in a Cirque du Soleil Sex Act? If I barked out the name Mary Lou Retton while DJing in a club today, people would look at me like I have a propeller on my head. I know, if I barked out “Lady Gaga” people would either get all breathless with excitement or throw sides of beef at me (I know she does something with eggs and meat) but I couldn’t name a song of hers outside of the one where she sings her name a lot.

Maybe I’m more nuts than obsolete.

I woke up this morning feeling sniffly and run-down. I couldn’t really call off from work today because I wasn’t feeling like I was on death’s doorstep or anything; I’m just feeling like I’ve been working and playing hard and I need some downtime.

Good thing the weekend schedule looks relatively empty. And the fact that it’s Thursday makes the weekend schedule situation look even better, because we’re thisclose to the weekend. And that’s a beautiful thing.

Earl is out of town on business tonight so I am going to hit the hay early and hope that I don’t awake to a bunch of snow in the morning (forecasters are saying to expect anywhere from nothing to something with various inches in between tonight, but I don’t buy it). I read an article this morning that talked about human sleep patterns and how an eight-hour night of sleep may be contrary to our evolution. Studies and historical documents seem to indicate that our ancestors may have slept twice each night; sleep around four hours, up for an hour or two and then sleep another four hours or so. Their bodies did this naturally. I find this interesting because my body has been trying to do that sort of thing for years but I get all panicky about the fact that I’m awake in the middle of the night and I need to get as much sleep as possible before my alarm du jour starts clanging me awake. Perhaps tonight would be a good night to try the on-off-on approach to sleeping, since the bed will be empty (aside from me) and I wouldn’t be disturbing my husbear with my latest sleeping experiment.

Life is more fun when you treat it like a science experiment.

The bright side to my “I’m not sick but my body thinks it is” feeling is that I don’t feel sad or depressed, I’m a happy, sniffly person all the way. There’s always a bright side.

I’m sitting at a Dunkin’ Donuts not too far from the house, though it’s not the closest one to the house. Sometimes life is a little more enjoyable when you venture out a little bit.

There is a Lexus in the parking lot with a license plate frame that indicates they are from Larchmont, N.Y. I know that’s down near the Big Apple but I don’t know that I have ever been there. As they made their way into the store, their loud voices indicated a definite downstate accent. They are all bundled up like they’re ready to mount an Eskimo sled. None of them look husky enough to pull the sled though. They’re making the noises that people make when they brush snow off their bodies and try to stave off the cold. I find this amusing, but I’m not being judgmental. It’s not easy for me sometimes. It’s one of my weaknesses.

The weather today is actually quite nice for February, it’s just above freezing and right now we are enjoying a light snow flurry. The snow is not sticking to paved surfaces but it’s accumulating on the grassy areas. I am more than comfortable with my “trailer park hoodie” as I call it.

Quite a few folks from downstate make their way up to these parts, much more so than farther west to places like Syracuse or Rochester. I’ve always said that it’s because we are around a tank of gas away via the Thruway but that is just speculation.

Personally, I’d be more content farther west in the Empire State, where the attitude is even more Midwestern and the accent follows suit. I’m not a huge fan of this part of the state, but I am very proud to be from Upstate New York. Outside of living around Boston for three years, I have been an upstate New York boy all my life and I kind of boast about that. I often dream of what it would be like to live in another part of the country, or even in another country altogether, but the truth of the matter is that despite the ridiculous taxes, corrupt government and decaying economy, I like upper three quarters of the Empire State a lot.

It feels comfortable and I feel contentment.

Would I like to move again? Yes. I think I could further my career and be even more content farther west in state (especially in the Rochester or Buffalo areas) but that will come when the time is right.

For now, I’m just going to enjoy the contentment.

I open my eyes and notice that I have jeans on. I feel younger than I actually am. My right wrist has a calculator watch on it. Trying to ascertain as to my location, I look up and see nothing but blue sky and white, puffy clouds. I’m looking through a skylight. Actually, I’m looking through the top of an airplane. Once my mind figures this out, I can hear the engine of the plane.

“Give ‘er a rip.”

I know that voice. Instinctively I put my hands on the controls and my feet on the rudders. I’m sitting in a rented Piper in the co-pilot seat. Dad is sitting in the the pilot’s seat, urging me to take control of the plane. He’s got a huge grin on his face, one that you would only see when he was in or near a plane. My dad grinned a lot, but the grin was different when he was flying.

I glance at the instruments to make sure I’m level with the horizon and then I decide to make a slow turn to the left. We are somewhere over a hilly, wooded area. I start to bank to the left a little bit. Dad is helping with the controls a little bit but letting me do my thing. As I gain confidence, I start to descend just a little bit. Well, I try to keep the change rather slight, but I push too hard on the controls and we start to go down more than I expected. I get dizzy from the change in altitude while turning at the same time and feel a moment of disorientation. The hills start to look closer and more menacing because we are headed toward them when we shouldn’t be.

“Whoa!”

Dad grabs the controls and pulls the Piper level. I gain my senses and am allowed to give it another try.

“You gotta work at it. Easy.”

He’s still grinning.

I decide that I have had enough of heading toward the hills and bank to the right.

“Well, we can’t go too close to the base. They don’t like it when we get into their air space. Gotta do it by the book.”

I level off and decide to head straight ahead. I squint as we head toward the sun, Dad is wearing his aviator sunglasses. He was always prepared like that. The sky is clear, the ride is smooth and the warmth of the sun coming into the cockpit is reassuring. A beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Dad takes the controls and banks us to the left with much more confidence than I displayed when I was trying to turn earlier and became disoriented. Urged to try, I do the same. I do much better and I successfully head us off somewhere; apparently I’m headed in the right direction. He continues to grin.

And then I jump, as I wake up and realize my alarm is going off, telling me it’s time to start my Friday.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Right out of high school I went to college with the intent on getting a degree in Music Education. At the time it seemed like the natural career path for me, because I did have an interest in teaching and I enjoyed my musical aspirations. My music performances (vocal and tuba) brought joy to others so wouldn’t it be a wonderful contribution to the world if I could teach others to do the same thing. However, my heart wasn’t into college that first time around and I abandoned the idea of becoming a music teacher after a while. I could get into a long discussion as to the reasons for this realization but we’ll save that for the next time we have a drink together.

The reason I bring this up is that although I didn’t pursue that education degree, there’s a part of me that still very much enjoys teaching and that is what I’ve been doing at work this latter half of the week. I’ve been working on writing software for the past eight weeks, now it’s time to instruct users on what it does, why it does it and how one goes about accomplishing what they’re destined to accomplish using the application I have written. The classes started last night. So far they have been well received.

I think because I am so passionate about technology and the fact that I like people to get what they can out of a technological experience is why I enjoy teaching others about it so much. Some people may not realize that I feel this way, because there is an IT geek part of me that does the stereotypical roll of the eyes, a big sigh and a click click click of the mouse to fix something that someone has messed up on their computer once in a while, but that’s usually reserved for something that I think the user should know in tandem with a cranky mood I might be having. I don’t respond as well to expected IT support (“make my screensaver do something nifty!”) as I do a genuine interest in how to accomplish something on a computer (“please show me how to change my screensaver).

I think it’s the passion and the belief in the subject that fuels my motivation to teach. And because of my eccentric ways, some might find that my passion might be in something that most find mundane, so I guess in a way it’s a win-win for all involved.

There’s a part of me that wants to pursue teaching technological stuff to others, or at the very least, writing about it and sharing with the world all the nifty things that one can do with the right geek tools when used properly.

Perhaps this is something that I need to put on the bucket list.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Those that see the Twitter announcement that I a new blog entry has been posted will note that I am writing this blog entry at 9:13 a.m.  Contrary to the notion that I am covertly writing this blog entry from my cubicle at work, I am actually sitting in the comfort of my home office and I am currently not on anyone’s clock.

I start work at noon today.

Now I know that that’s quite an introductory paragraph for such a simple fact; a shift in one’s time schedule is not something to get all giddy about. However, in my reality, I am giddy because my day is changed up a little bit and I am actually going to be working during my personal Prime Working Hours. I enjoy being productive in my Prime Working Hours. I would enjoy it even more if I could do it from the comfort of my own home office, but that’s another blog entry.

I am working different hours today so I can train the first round of users on how to use the software I have been designing and building for the past month or so. It’s going to be a little bit of a trick, training users on how to use a software application that hasn’t been completed yet, but it’s a challenge that I am sure that I can live up to. Full on implementation for the new software isn’t until next Tuesday, so I have plenty of time to get it completed and the bugs worked out. (Please don’t let the sarcasm drip onto your nice looking clothes).

In all seriousness, I have enough of the application done that it is functional and we can get data where it needs to be, there’s just not enough flash and pizazz for my liking. I’ll be tweaking for a while. Besides, these days people don’t expect the “.0” release to be anything beyond functional anyway.

Despite the challenge, I am very excited to be working these different hours today. My only concern, other than the aforementioned incomplete application, is whether my iced tea at my favorite Dunkin’ Donuts will be warm at 8 p.m. after waiting for me to retrieve it at noon.