I feel like I’m on the edge of something great and terrible. Like I’m ready and waiting for a change, but too afraid to take the plunge.
Most major changes in my life have been on the heels of what felt like a colossal mistake on my part.
But ultimately brought me to a better place; more in alignment with my long term goals.
Now, here I lie in bed. Writing this in Mobile Word on my new Galaxy Note 8.
While Hurricane Irma is whirling in the keys. Slowly making here way up the state of Florida toward me, my family, home, work…
And with her coming?
Change?
Opportunity?
Or maybe just a reminder to be grateful for all I have?
And to honor those resources by excelling rather than dwelling.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Labels
Labels are dangerous things.
On opaque containers filled and sealed they serve an obvious purpose.
Contents detailed.
On single use cans they’re essential.
Contents detailed.
Cans are torn open, contents spilled, used, discarded. Can, label, and all.
But on a clear, reusable container, plastic bottles with their utilitarian screw on tops and such, labels outlive their usefulness once they’re emptied.
Yet the container remains useful.
It waits to be filled again.
With anything.
With things other than the original contents.
And refilled with those other things, the original label becomes a lie.
Worst still, a limitation.
We’re tempted to squander the potential and only reuse the container for one thing.
Some labels can be easily peeled off; shed like dead skin, cast aside like clothes for fresher wares.
But some labels, once applied, can never be removed.
What then?
Do we keep using the container?
Do we keep telling the lie?
Or do we toss away the container?
Label and all; despite all it’s potential?
Do we plaster on another label to tell the truth of what’s inside? Is the new label big enough to cover the old one? Is the new truth bigger than the old lie?
And if the new label is big enough to cover the old, can we still see what’s inside?
Emptied and filled again, do we add another label? And another?
Can we still see what’s inside?
Will there come a time when no more labels will fit? When all the labels we’ve plastered on make the container so unwieldy that we can’t stand the sight of it?
And even if we can’t read them anymore, won’t we still know the old labels lie beneath?
Why do we need labels at all?
Without a label, how will we really know what’s inside?
Maybe we’ll just have to find the time to look closer.
Posted from WordPress for Android
A few words on disappointment
When we express the pain of disappointment, we are often reminded that other people are worse off than us.
But when you’re sinking in quicksand, it’s hard to think of anyone else. Even those who have already gone under.
It’s also unfair to compare your pain to any one else’s.
While we can (and should) empathize with others, we can only ever experience life from our own perspective. So it’s important to know you have the right to feel whatever it is you’re feeling.
That your pain is valid and necessary for healing.
Never be ashamed of feeling or expressing pain.
But it’s also important to remember that no matter how bad we feel right now, “this too shall pass”.
And so, it’s important not to take actions hastily.
Flailing about in the quicksand will only make you sink faster.
We must allow ourselves time to fully experience the disappointment; a bereavement period. Because we have to mourn the loss of what we desired in order to fully appreciate what we still have.
Then and only then can we move forward and take positive action; lay back, take a deep breath and float out of that quagmire.
Posted from WordPress for Android
A Chest of Drawers
Yet here it sits in pieces strewn across my living room floor.
I have worked as a data analyst using Statistical Analysis Software (SAS), Microsoft Excel, and Access for nearly 10 years.
Bottom line. I don’t like a lot of change. I have a tendency to make mistakes when faced with a lot of change in such a short amount of time.
From the start, I felt out of my depth.
To top things off, I soon discovered that only one of the two analysts I was working with was proficient in any of the languages I was trying to learn.
Right away I felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information being thrown at me (often with little or no context) on top of taking two or three courses at once . And I was expected to reply to the emails he sent with some feedback that denoted my understanding…
Well, after hours of being verbally poked, prodded, coaxed, and probed, I usually made the connections to his satisfaction. But at the cost of sanity and ego. Sometimes he’d stand over me as I read excerpts from the books be provided with no clue how it fit into the what I was learning. I’d be working on one discipline only to have him interupt me to do whatever tickled his fancy that day.
But, I gritted my teeth and bore it. Thinking of the knowledge I’d attain and that eventually it would get better. It did feel great when I made progress in the Lynda.com classes. They were a beacon of light in what was for me an uncertain and tumultuous sea.
He’d often preempt my programming training to come look at monitoring issue, that he’d show me on his screen. Usually I Wound up asking him to document it and send it to me. As there was no way I could document an issue displayed on his PC; short of taking his seat, opening up a Word Document, and making screen prints myself.
Alas, I felt I had settled into a comfortable enough routine to go back to school. The loan periods were right and I felt like I could manage work and school. I often worked from home and the team seemed supportive and to encourage my pursuing a degree. Particularly one in programming.
The first week back at school was stellar and I felt really good! I managed to get all my assignments turned in on time and did great!
Thursday and Sunday, to be precise, giving me ample time to work on them Wednesday when I usually work from home.
SVG?
WTF!?
While the face-to-face sessions I had with the lead analyst were often grueling, the ones via Instant Messenger were a little slice of pure emotional Hell. If I took too long (more than a few seconds) to answer his pop-quiz style questions he’d throw up a question mark or ask if I was still there or stuck. As a result I felt rushed and stressed out throughout the conversation. To add to the already massive stress factor, I had no clue what he was talking about 99.99% of the time as it was truly my first glimpse of SVG.
To make a three hour long story short, I got offline that afternoon feeling emotionally drained and exhausted. I thanked him sincerely for his time and patience and literally crawled into bed and fell asleep feeling like an idiot. Like I’d somehow let him down for not having a clue.
I spent the next day (Thursday) reviewing the IM conversation and creating detailed notes in a PDF format.
Friday was even worse.
Four and a half hours online ending in more confusion which apexed with my being grilled (*reamed) by he-who-must-not-be-named for not recalling vector graph references in the Algebra I hadn’t used in 20 years.
I felt two inches small.
Borderline worthless.
Before.
Now, it was another stressor.
Full of unknowns and even more worries than a poor family with few prospects that seemed to depend on me for Financial and Moral support.
As I mentioned earlier, I had been paying her utility bill to the tune of $400 a month. The previous month I paid the bill (on the heels of $400 Student loan payment) and told her to make preparations to get the next month’s bill paid as I would only have money the end of next month and not in time for the due date. A month was plenty of time for her to go to an Agency or Charity for assistance as she had in the past.
Long story…a little shorter, my mom loaned her $400, which she claimed was needed to avoid a disconnect, with my agreeing to reimburse mom the next pay period (Friday the same week). But according to my sister, when she went to pay it, she was told the full $517 was due. And so a family friend wrote a check for the full amount in exchange for the $400.
This was not new.
Well, my mom was the one who told me the electricity had been turned off in my sister’s house because the check the not-so-good Samaritan had written bounced.
I went to drop off the phone, angered that my sister let this happen and yet slowly coming out of my own emotional cocoon to realize she was in some real pain.
She managed a smile that conjured memories of the little girl in pigtails I use to push in swings at the park.
The cab was blocks away from my apartment when I recieved my sister’s text message, apologizing for being such a burden and thanking me for helping her. It was a goodbye in every sense of the word.
Thankfully the door wasn’t locked.
I held her while she cried.
She said she just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.
Depression is as much a part of my family as I am. But what right did I have to even think of such a thing when I was healthy, had a good job, and a shiny new apartment, which my sister helped me move into?
Thankfully, the boys came home just after the police car pulled off with their mother, as I had no clue which houses they were in.
Together, the three of us–my nephews and I–walked through what I slowly realized was a bad neighborhood to get my niece from the park, which turned out to be much further away than previous conversations with my mom and sister led me to believe.
I got my niece from the park passing several questionable individuals along the way. Clarifying just how tinted the rose colored glasses my sister must have been looking through when she described it as a “nice neighborhood”.
I accompanied the kids to my mom’s house with my aunt and uncle. And managed to maintain a smile and conjure the lie that their mother had to go back in the hospital due to complications from the surgery she’d had two weeks prior. Which ironically wasn’t too far from the truth.
I came back home that night and thought about the little girl in pigtails I use to push in the swing.
And I felt ashamed for my own despair.
I felt guilty for speaking so harshly to my sister; for being so wrapped up in a once golden job that was slowly turning to brass before my eyes.
I found myself stepping over the pieces of the chest-of-drawers; shifting between sadness and an odd detachment. I had little motivation to do anything.
I visited with my mother, ate a few slices of pizza and talked about the current state of affairs.
That was when I began to realize that the responsibility I avoided in white knuckled terror was staring me in the eye in the form of that little girl in pigtails I use to push in the swing. And her three kids.
I live alone.
I don’t date.
I don’t have any true friends beyond a few colleagues at work that I occasionally
commiserate with.
I’ve convenienced my life to the point that I don’t do stress weII. Or perhaps because I know my limits.
I met with her counselors and she was home the following Wednesday with a batch of new prescriptions and renewed hope that I’d continue to help her financially.
I convinced the lead analyst to forego training on Wednesday and Friday.
Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday I spent 3, 4, and 6.5 hours being drilled in JavaScript, a language I thought I had made progress in.
Each day I came away feeling less and less capable, less worthwhile, and less sure of myself. I began to dread work and avoid the lead analyst.
WTF!?
But more than that, I felt powerless.
Felt useless at work.
My finances were none existent.
It seems I have less and less motivation to do little more than sit on the couch or lie in bed (usually the later) and watch “Star Trek: Enterprise” on Netflix.
I still feel disconnected, anxious, and honestly I’ve come to realize that I’m just not happy.
Clothes are piled up in the corners of my bedroom. Clothes that should be in the chest of drawers I haven’t managed to put together yet.
And just like that chest-of-drawers, I really don’t know where to start…
My First Post and the Galaxy Note 3
Wow! I’m standing in my kitchen as I write this.
My first blog post via the Android WordPress app on my Galaxy Note 3.
Fair Warning…
This is just me blogging aimlessly about random topics…
I journal. So there’s no telling where this will go.
Well, I must say, I am blown away by the handwriting recognition on the Note 3.
A little background. I’m a self-confessed technophile. I love gadgets and all things tech. I abandoned my beloved Iphone 4S and bought the Galaxy Note 2 last year about the same time (around November 15th) and two weeks in I knew I had something special.
A device that began to fulfill the promises of Palm Pilots and Pocket PCs of ages long passed.
I remembered buying my first real Pocket PC an HP2200 sporting Windows Mobile OS (showing my age here) and loving the wifi psyncing (before it was unceremoniously abandoned for Bluetooth) and the dual memory card slots; an SD andCF if memory serves. And wishing it could make phone calls.
Well, the Palm Treo came out, but the budget just couldn’t sustain an upgrade from my old phone at the time, a Sony Ericsson (these were the days before discounted phones via contract renewals).
Being a poor geek was a rough life in those days.
Oh, but I took every opportunity to ogle the new tech via online news outlets and reviews liked CNet, Engadget, and PC Magazine.
Even then, there was a feeling of the tech industry moving towards a kind of singularity.
Over the years I’ve owned quite a few Windows Phones. But for me, the IPhone was the first device that tied in music, video, web browsing, and a phone in one device.
For years I was a devout hater of all things Apple. Hardcore Windows Mobile till the bitter end.
Till the inception of contract upgrades and a very persistent (and very pretty) Best Buy sales rep who gave me my first sip of the Apple Cool -Aid in the Iphone 4.
And I was hooked! I came to realize a lot of my apprehension about Apple (specifically iOS) was envy ala Fox and the Grapes. Easy to hate what you can’t afford.
A new job and more money led to a sumptuous feast at the Apple Table as iOS expanded and I acquired my first Ipad. And began to understand and retort the mantra: “It just works.”
I loved both the IPhone and the IPad for Media consumption, and eventually ported my vast music collection and some .avi files of my favorite movies to both. I loved having all of my media in the Apple ecosphere.
And yes, the Ipad 2 and IPhone 4S were purchased as I discovered Amazon and how easy it was to sell my old Apple devices to offset the price of the new.
And then came the Netflix app and I was in mediaphile heaven. Netflix on iOS is still an awesome experience.
But throughout my love affair with iOS, I never forgot those little bits and pieces of Palm and Windows Mobile that allowed (albeit limited) text input and document creation via Palm Grafiti and a stylus input; (Brace yourself) Windows Mobile Office.
I was one of the few users, I suppose who actually mourned the death of the stylus. Yes. I actually liked writing on the screen and missed it.
The Galaxy Note was the first Android device that integrated the stylus (redubbed the S-Pen) seemlessly, in my oppinion.
But the Iphone 4S was still too yummy to pass up and Android too alien to me. By that time I was just too entrenched in the Appleverse to even consider anything Android.
Ironically, I’m not a fan of change despite my technophile roots.
My first taste of the Droid came with another trip to Best Buy. No pretty sales rep this time, but a surplus of funds and the ability to pick up a demo Galaxy Tab 7 device and sample Android’s wares had me questioning my devotion to my beloved IPad.
I was surprised by all the apps I used in iOS with counteparts in Android. And so the The Galaxy Tab 7 was the gateway device, opening the door for the Galaxy Note 2.
The first Galaxy Note wasn’t enough to make me trade in my IPhone. But the Note 2 with its 5.5inch display, S-Pen, and SD card expandable memory finally posed a great enough challenge to the IPhone, leaving me with the choice.
Get an IPhone 5 (with all the latest and greatest Appley goodness) or try out the Note 2 and wade into the deep end of Android?
I was feeling adventurous and realized if I didn’t like the Note 2, I could always trade it in for the Iphone 5.
But the moment I saw that gargantuan 5.5 inch screen, realized the massive collection music and movies I’d acquired over the years was instantly accessible, and accessorized with a 64gb Micro SD (an option unavailable for iOS devices) I was hooked.
Then I tried the S-Pen.
And while the experience wasn’t perfect, the S-pen fulfilled the promise of styli past. Serving up the first viable means of text input via handwriting I’d ever seen in a smart phone.
And I never looked back.
Right now my devices include: the Galaxy Note 3, the original Ipad Mini, a Galaxy Note 10.1, and the MacBook Air.
I have no clue if I’ll continue to blog.
Or what about. While I love the tech, I don’t want to limit myself.
I think most bloggers have a message , a topic, or at least a focus.
I just enjoy writing. The act of writing is cathartic for me. It’s a part of my thought process. I’ve kept a journal for years; tomes of daily goings on, my feelings and opinions.
For years I’ve had aspirations of becoming a published writer.
Fiction. Novels.
Sci-Fi and Fantasy.
Not so sure I’m ready to share all of that.
Truth is, I’ve never been very organized or focused. I began using Evernote a few years ago with the goal of using it to be organise my thoughts and ideas. But that’s still very much a work in progress.
I love Evernote on the Galaxy Note 3. Together they have allowed me to capture ideas nearly as reliably as pen and paper.
Mmm. I wonder if it’s possible to write an entire novel using the Galaxy Note 3 alone?
While I’m not so sure where (or if) this blog is going, one thing is for certain. The Galaxy Note 3 will be an integral part of my writing arsenal.