Birthday idea.
Weekend.
Our long weekend starts in four hours and 20 minutes from the posting of this blog entry. I will be meeting Earl in Buffalo so that we can hop a flight tomorrow.
Sorry work, I’m already in long weekend mode.
No.
Dear Miserable Looking, Apparently Homophobic Man In The Hallway at Work,
I have worked at the same facility for over two years. You have worked at this same facility for much longer. I realize this and I commend you on the fact that you have been able to spend a century or two doing the same thing in this whirling breeze of change in technology that has gripped the thirteen colonies and the other territories that just won’t go away. I get that they keep pushing your retirement age out another decade or two and I feel for you. It must be tough.
A fellow human being walked by you and cheerfully smiled as he said “Good morning”, like he does to everyone when he’s walking from point A to point B. The smile was genuine. One should always hope that a fellow human being is having a good day. Judging by the size of your jowls and the relocation of your travel path, it is apparent that you were not in the mood for such a happy greeting. This does not come as a total surprised for whenever I encounter you in the hallway you always relocate your travel path so that you are as far away from me as possible. If I were a betting man, I’d bet that if the water fountain could support your weight, your path of travel would include going over that water fountain so that you could get another inch or two away from me. It has been noted that you don’t approach everyone with such frivolity, only the one or two folks that don’t fit into a very narrow definition of normal. So, I’d like to share a little secret with you.
Even though I am a gay man, and even though I do enjoy the rugged, handsome attributes of the male species, I have no interest in you. None, whatsoever. I don’t want to get to know you better, I don’t even want to be on the same planet as you. But I was being friendly in a socially acceptable way and even a grunt and/or flap of the jowls would have been appreciated. And even though I am a gay man, I am still able to keep all of my sexual organs in my pants when the situation and/or social etiquette dictates that I do so. As a gay man, I am confident that my homosexuality is not contagious. You’re not going to become gay from walking in the same hallway as me and I can assure you that I have no interest whatsoever of playing “I’ll show you mine-you show me yours” with you. We have plenty of people on our team and we are not recruiting new members. If you’re not wired our way, we don’t want you to fake it. Faking your life is not the way to live.
So the next time I say “good morning”, and rest assured that I will continue to do so since you are a human and we both live on the same planet, make a little grunt of acknowledgment. Who knows, it might make your day a little brighter.
Forever Young.
There is a fairly popular Italian restaurant situated at the end of the plaza that I park near during my lunch hours during the week. From my vantage point I can see dozen of people walk in and out of the restaurant, going about their daily business and doing their thing. For the most part they seem content.
Near the end of my lunch hour yesterday, I noticed an older woman walking out of the restaurant by herself. From what I could tell, she seemed to be in her 70s. I’d guess her around 75 or so. She was dressed fairly nice. Her hair was covered in a scarf in such the fashion that older women of a previous generation tended to do. I noticed she was wearing a pant suit. She wore glasses. She moved without mechanical assist, but her step wasn’t overly lively. She walked slowly, which is understandable for a woman of the age I perceived her to be. She looked pleasant.
As she walked towards the parking lot, I expected her to stop at the Taurus that was parked in the handicapped spot. In this part of the state, when you reach a certain age you are an absolute no one until you have a handicapped tag hanging from your mirror. It doesn’t matter if you’re actually handicapped or not for this tag seems to have an air of status about it for a certain set of people. I envision folks sitting around a cup of coffee during their seventh hour at Dunkin’ Donuts comparing the date that they obtained their handicapped privileges. He or she with the most junior date has to pay the check and ward off anyone that may suggest to them that they may be loitering.
The pleasant looking woman with the scarf walked right by the Taurus and continued her trek up the parking lot aisle. I was quite surprised when she stopped and hopped into her vehicle. There was no handicapped sticker on her ride, for she had hopped up into a late 1990s Jeep Wrangler soft-top with the side and back windows removed. Once situated in her Wrangler, she tightened up her scarf a bit, donned a pair of sunglasses, started up her Jeep and proceeded to head out of the lot. The sound of her engine indicated that she was driving a stick. And like all good Jeep Wrangler drivers, she waved at me as she passed by my Rubicon. I smiled and waved back.
And that, my friends, is how one stays young.
Love-Hate.
I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook. On the one hand, I think it’s a brilliant software platform that has allowed nearly a billion people to keep in contact with one another. Like millions of others, I have reestablished connections with old high school friends, maintained better contact with family members that are flung all over the country and I have maintained online friendships with folks that I have met, or would really like to meet, in person to build and/or continue a friendship outside of Facebook. When you think about it, it’s all pretty cool that we have the technology to do this. Imagine trying to accomplish all of this with dial up! It would have been a nightmare.
On the other hand, as an avid Facebook user (at least this week), I am fully cognizant of the fact that as the user I am not the customer. My life is a product of Facebook’s. My personal details are sorted, analyzed, computed, mitigated and possibly even spindled and then sold off to marketing agencies and the like so that they know how to market their precisely to me. In a way this bothers me, but my ego isn’t so large that I think that they know exactly who I am but rather they know of my type of existence and there are probably thousands out there that are just as quirky as I am. The cranky side of me hopes I through their algorithms into a tailspin.
So while I process these things in my head and go back and forth with this love-hate relationship, it usually boils down to wanting to like Facebook more than not like it. Personally, I think the good outweighs the bad. I keep hearing how Google wants to wipe out Facebook with Google+, but I think that’s a different animal with different intentions (other than the marketing data mining).
This all being said, I can decree right now that I’m liking Facebook. It tends to be my PG-13 playspace in the online world and I welcome the interaction with friends and family alike. I see Facebook as the family friendly venue and that’s the approach I take with it. I don’t have the need for dual identities on Facebook, I have that elsewhere where I need it and I’m perfectly content with the arrangement. The only thing that one needs to keep in mind is that you need to keep it all in perspective and you need to keep your privacy and app settings up to date. Then you’ll find you love it more than you hate it, just like I do.
I think I rambled.
The Weekend of Bliss.
This has been the nearly perfect weekend. I rode nearly 60 miles on the bike and survived to tell the tale. We grilled on the back patio, went for rides in the Jeep with the top off and I indulged in my geek ways along the way.
I feel relaxed and ready to go for the week. It’s a short week for us; Earl and I meet up in Buffalo Thursday night to fly to Chicago on Friday. Next weekend is BearPride weekend, and that’s always a good time.
The Friday Celebration.
Well today is Friday and there is much rejoicing in my head about this. I am working from home today, which makes my day much brighter. It’s not that I don’t enjoy working in the office, it’s just that I am easily distracted (surprise!) and when I have people constantly jumping in and out of my cubicle with questions, comments, retorts, etc., I find myself losing track of where I was, what I was doing and for that matter, who I am and why I’m sitting at the 1990s styled cubicle desk.
Ain’t technology amazing? I have a Skype account dedicated to my work connection and I’m able to forward my work phone to my Skype phone number and all works brilliantly. I can send, receive and regurgitate email just as if I was sitting at my desk back at the office and all the while I can sit in the comfort of my home office, listening to nothing but Donna Summer playing from my computer (which sits on the other desk) and just barrel through my To Do list that is slowly becoming more backed up than a toilet stuffed with too much toilet paper.
The sun is shining brightly. The lawn is mowed. The weekend looks to be a good one and for the first time in a long while, I’m remembering what it’s like to work while not being stressed out beyond my personal comprehension.
To me this is just one of many reasons to feel celebratory. Have a wonderful day and enjoy your weekend.
The Eating of Stress.
I want the cookie. I can easily imagine myself walking up to the counter and asking for an oatmeal raisin cookie and then paying $1.07 and walking away with refined sugar goodness. It’s easy to imagine this, I’ve done it hundreds of times.
And yes I know, refined sugar isn’t good for you. I think it has to be better than the High Fructose Corn Syrup that’s usually present and come to think of it, present in my cookie.
It’s because of stress. I don’t like eating chocolate when I’m stressed. I usually head for pistachios or something else nutty. But the cookie is calling out to me.
I am strong. I shall not eat the cookie. I won’t even order the cookie. I have turned the page in the script and have moved on in this play of life.
I’ll just lick my desk when I get back to work and enjoy some dust. It’s low cal.
RIP Donna Summer.
I just read on Twitter (and then in the news) that disco diva Donna Summer passed on this morning at age 63. Her passing is after a battle with cancer.
I am very sad.
An amazing singer, her life path had some bumps here and there but one thing was certain, she had an amazing gift with her voice and she brought happiness to millions of people through her music.
RIP, LaDonna. We will miss you very much.
The One Without the 3Gs.
So thus far I have spent much of my lunch hour arguing with the Verizon 3G signal that permeates this fine little city I work in. I keep losing my 3G signal and getting ramped back to the old 1ZPTT (I think that’s what it’s called) data signal that is much like the old dialup days of Prodigy, CompuServe and AOL.
This is not the 21st century way of doing things.
Instead of getting worked up about it, though, I have decided to (after this blog entry) just turn off the gadgets and enjoy the sunshine for the rest of my lunch hour. That will put me back at peace on an otherwise good day.
