Every Monday, my entire department spends half the day doing technology-related research. Each individual picks his or her own topic. It may or may not be directly related to work. The point is to broaden one's knowledge and keep up with new trends in the industry. The next day, we spend our lunch hour discussing what each of us researched.
While this might seem like a nice perk - one might even call it company sanctioned play time - I hate it. I can't do effective research unless there's a particular problem I need to solve or question I need to answer.
My problems and questions generally fall into two categories:
1.) issues directly related to a project I'm currently working on, in which case they are part of my normal workflow and do not require separate research time, and
2.) trivial questions that have nothing whatsoever to do with work, in which case it's really not kosher to spend work hours researching them.
Since I don't need extra time to address the first category, my afternoon research tends to drift into the second category more often than not. I try to keep it relevant to work, but I'm always just on the fringe, if not completely pushing the limit. I really struggle with what's acceptable.
Case in point:
Once again, I didn't start the afternoon with a specific topic in mind, so I went browsing through technology news to generate ideas. I came across an article about BlizzCon - Blizzard Convention - it's like ComicCon for gamers. Blizzard is the company that makes World of Warcraft, Diablo, Starcraft, and other game titles.
Like ComicCon, BlizzCon is a big deal that makes international news. In fact, I was reading BBC News when I spotted the article about it.
Apparently there was an official announcement at this year's BlizzCon about the next World of Warcraft expansion. It was merely a single line blip in the middle of a full page article, but it was enough that I nearly peed my pants with excitemen and proceeded to follow a dozen links to a variety of websites containing both fact and speculation on the details.
After several minutes, I had to get up and leave the group workspace because I couldn't stop uttering ooooh and ahhhh and omg, no way! while others were trying to concentrate.
Unable to sit still, I went into my coworker's office to bother him about it, thereby distracting him from his own research.
Then I went back to my office and continued reading.
Then I had a minor epiphany that led to the idea of a potential moral conflict.
I love WoW. I didn't know Blizzard was planning to release another expansion so soon, since they just released one last year, so this news came as a big surprise. It really excites me, so naturally I want to read more. But is this what our research time was intended for? Let's think about that for a moment...
Technology related? Yes.
Does it broaden my knowledge of technology in a meaningful way? One could argue that in either direction.
Will this knowledge enable me to do my job more effectively? Doubtful.
Do I care that this might be seen as an inappropriate use of my time? Kinda sorta but not really. I already think an entire afternoon of research is a poor use of time, so how is this any worse?
Will I be able to discuss it with my coworkers over lunch tomorrow? Yes, but not without turning red from embarrassment. That's where the "kinda sorta" comes in. Even though I think research time sucks, I still like to give the impression that I tried to follow the rules.
But in all honesty, my behavior is entirely predictable, and if someone had asked me how I would spend an afternoon each week, if given the freedom to research anything I wanted, I could have told them this is how it would be.
See, I just can't maintain focus during unstructured research time. My brain doesn't work like that.
When I research things on my own time, it always starts with a question about something that excites me. Something I'm burning to know. I analyze the crap out of it, follow links to related topics, and eventually, through a series of ADD-style leaps, I find myself looking at something completely different from where I started. It might be related, or it might be so far away that I'm not even sure how I got there.
In short, I get easily side-tracked.
It's very useful to me, I enjoy following odd paths. Sometimes I have questions that need answers, and to me, this is the most effective way to find them. The context I get by looking at related items is what makes the knowledge so meaningful.
But I can't always explain this to others. People usually don't get my need to know things. Or more accurately, they don't understand how I can casually surf my way to in-depth knowledge about something trivial, while being completely incapable of focusing my energy for one afternoon of research on a serious topic.
And I have to admit, it's a mystery to me too. I don't understand why my brain functions this way.
Everyone else seems to be able to pick a topic and stick with it through the entire 4 hours, and when we have lunch the next day, they can talk at length about what they studied. Some of them even start new side projects based on their research, and come to lunch prepared with code snippets and web pages to show off. Tangible evidence that they learned and that it's applicable to our work.
Not me. I always research the most random things, and my presentation at lunch is almost as scattered as my research. It rarely has anything to do with our work. My coworkers don't get it. It makes me feel a bit retarded that I don't function mentally the same way they do.
All it takes is one little article about BlizzCon to derail my focus toward several hours of tangential link clicking. ... And a non-work-related discussion with a coworker. ... And now this blog.
I am the master of distraction.
Or perhaps distraction is the master of me?
Hmm... that seems like the sort of thought an aspiring Zen master might ponder during an extended meditation.
Anyway... new WoW expansion. I'm stoked! I might actually defect to the Alliance just so I can play the new Worgen race. Werewolf people!
Yatta!!!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Imbalance
Last night as I was laying in bed, I realized that I'm becoming detached from my husband. I hear his voice on the phone all the time, but it's always muffled and broken. It's been 3 and a half months now since I saw him last. It's like he's not real, like I just dreampt that I met someone wonderful and married him... and then I woke up to a reality where he doesn't exist.
I miss hearing his voice right next to me, not to mention seeing his face clearly, touching him, feeling his warmth, listening to his heart beat and the sound of his breath... I could go on and on.
All the things I miss.
The thought of being detached made me sad. I don't want to lose his realness. He is real.
I clutched his sweater, still scented with his cologne, and buried my face in it before drifting off to sleep.
I didn't sleep well. I tossed and turned and had strange dreams.
I was trying to get a hold of Joey. He wasn't answering phone calls or text messages and I didn't know where he was. Hours later, he showed up with a group of guys, mostly his cousins. They were all drunk. It was the middle of the day, and I was mad. I've been worried about him all this time, and he's been out drinking?!
He wanted me to take him home because he was too drunk to drive. I was so irritated that I didn't even want to deal with him. I wanted to question him, yell at him, make him understand why I was upset. But he was too inebriated to pay attention to me in the way I wanted. He just wanted to go home.
He looked at me with so much love in his eyes - I could see it, even through the intoxication. I melted.
Yeah, I was pissed off, but he was mine and I loved him, no matter what.
I took him home and put him in bed, except... home was a single bed in some elderly lady's garage??? It was like a shelter... her garage had been all cleaned out, and filled with 4 clean single beds. The garage door was wide open, so it wasn't very warm. Was I homeless again? Why do I keep dreaming about Joey and I being homeless?
Anyway... I helped him up onto the single bed, and I wedged myself in next to him. No blankets, since we were both fully clothed with shoes on.
I wanted to talk, but he was sleepy. I was still frustrated, yet still doting over him. It didn't matter that we were in a stranger's garage and we were cold. It didn't matter that he was drunk, and I was pissed off at him. All that mattered was that he was there with me, I could put my arms around him, touch him, smell him, hear him. We were together, and there was such a strong love between us.
When I woke to my alarm, I was confused. I desperately wanted to go back to sleep, to my dream where Joey was laying next to me. But my phone alarm went off then, doubling up on my clock/radio, reminding me that I had an early appointment to keep.
Before I could reach the dresser to silence my phone, one of my cats climbed up and plopped down right on top of me, as if encouraging me to stay in bed and savor the memory of my husband. He was warm and his purr was soothing. I just layed there, both alarms sounding, still confused, trying to feel Joey beside me. But all I could feel was 11.5 pounds of purring fur-ball sprawled out over my chest and stomach.
I noticed then that I still clung to Joey's sweater - I had held onto it throughout the night - and it still smelled like him. When I finally pulled it away, and sluggishly got out of bed, I could still smell him on me. The cologne on the sweater had transferred onto my shirt. That's what used to happen after I had snuggled with him, when he was still home, when I could still kiss him goodbye before work. It gave me a false sense of his presence, like I could just get back in bed, and he would be there, and we would be together.
I hurried to get take the shirt off and get in the shower, partly because I was now running late, and partly to get rid of the misleading scent. As I washed, I visualized the last fragments of him running down the drain with the soapy water. I was detaching again.
No! I thought to myself. I don't want to be detached!
Somehow I have to find a balance. I don't know how to do it. When I think of Joey being near me, I get distracted and depressed. It's hard to deal with, especially at work. Yet, when I distance myself from him mentally, I lose him. He's still in my thoughts, but he's not whole. I'm not whole.
How can I keep him near me but still function without feeling sad all the time? How can I protect myself from depression without putting up the walls?
sigh.
I just wish he could come home.
I miss hearing his voice right next to me, not to mention seeing his face clearly, touching him, feeling his warmth, listening to his heart beat and the sound of his breath... I could go on and on.
All the things I miss.
The thought of being detached made me sad. I don't want to lose his realness. He is real.
I clutched his sweater, still scented with his cologne, and buried my face in it before drifting off to sleep.
I didn't sleep well. I tossed and turned and had strange dreams.
I was trying to get a hold of Joey. He wasn't answering phone calls or text messages and I didn't know where he was. Hours later, he showed up with a group of guys, mostly his cousins. They were all drunk. It was the middle of the day, and I was mad. I've been worried about him all this time, and he's been out drinking?!
He wanted me to take him home because he was too drunk to drive. I was so irritated that I didn't even want to deal with him. I wanted to question him, yell at him, make him understand why I was upset. But he was too inebriated to pay attention to me in the way I wanted. He just wanted to go home.
He looked at me with so much love in his eyes - I could see it, even through the intoxication. I melted.
Yeah, I was pissed off, but he was mine and I loved him, no matter what.
I took him home and put him in bed, except... home was a single bed in some elderly lady's garage??? It was like a shelter... her garage had been all cleaned out, and filled with 4 clean single beds. The garage door was wide open, so it wasn't very warm. Was I homeless again? Why do I keep dreaming about Joey and I being homeless?
Anyway... I helped him up onto the single bed, and I wedged myself in next to him. No blankets, since we were both fully clothed with shoes on.
I wanted to talk, but he was sleepy. I was still frustrated, yet still doting over him. It didn't matter that we were in a stranger's garage and we were cold. It didn't matter that he was drunk, and I was pissed off at him. All that mattered was that he was there with me, I could put my arms around him, touch him, smell him, hear him. We were together, and there was such a strong love between us.
When I woke to my alarm, I was confused. I desperately wanted to go back to sleep, to my dream where Joey was laying next to me. But my phone alarm went off then, doubling up on my clock/radio, reminding me that I had an early appointment to keep.
Before I could reach the dresser to silence my phone, one of my cats climbed up and plopped down right on top of me, as if encouraging me to stay in bed and savor the memory of my husband. He was warm and his purr was soothing. I just layed there, both alarms sounding, still confused, trying to feel Joey beside me. But all I could feel was 11.5 pounds of purring fur-ball sprawled out over my chest and stomach.
I noticed then that I still clung to Joey's sweater - I had held onto it throughout the night - and it still smelled like him. When I finally pulled it away, and sluggishly got out of bed, I could still smell him on me. The cologne on the sweater had transferred onto my shirt. That's what used to happen after I had snuggled with him, when he was still home, when I could still kiss him goodbye before work. It gave me a false sense of his presence, like I could just get back in bed, and he would be there, and we would be together.
I hurried to get take the shirt off and get in the shower, partly because I was now running late, and partly to get rid of the misleading scent. As I washed, I visualized the last fragments of him running down the drain with the soapy water. I was detaching again.
No! I thought to myself. I don't want to be detached!
Somehow I have to find a balance. I don't know how to do it. When I think of Joey being near me, I get distracted and depressed. It's hard to deal with, especially at work. Yet, when I distance myself from him mentally, I lose him. He's still in my thoughts, but he's not whole. I'm not whole.
How can I keep him near me but still function without feeling sad all the time? How can I protect myself from depression without putting up the walls?
sigh.
I just wish he could come home.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Happy Friday
I meant to write a longer blog today, but I didn't get time. I might do it this weekend.
The short story is, my back and neck have been hurting A LOT this week, causing headaches and general ill temper on my part.
Work has continued to be a challenge, but a few good things have come out this week.
My interview for the new job is scheduled for Tuesday.
Because I did such an excellent job facilitating my department's retrospective meeting this week, I get to facilitate our iteration demo next week. That means I have to get up and talk in front of whoever attends the demo - last week it was standing room only, and it included the CEO and CFO.
Anyway, it's Friday, it's after 5:00, I'm done with my work for the week, and I'm heading out to play Bingo with my mother-in-law. Fun times.
So glad it's the weekend!
The short story is, my back and neck have been hurting A LOT this week, causing headaches and general ill temper on my part.
Work has continued to be a challenge, but a few good things have come out this week.
My interview for the new job is scheduled for Tuesday.
Because I did such an excellent job facilitating my department's retrospective meeting this week, I get to facilitate our iteration demo next week. That means I have to get up and talk in front of whoever attends the demo - last week it was standing room only, and it included the CEO and CFO.
Anyway, it's Friday, it's after 5:00, I'm done with my work for the week, and I'm heading out to play Bingo with my mother-in-law. Fun times.
So glad it's the weekend!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Salon Gossip
I was at the hair salon for a trim. There was a mix-up in scheduling, so I had to wait much longer than expected.
As I was flipping through a dated fashion magazine, a woman who'd just had her hair done came out and sat near me, waiting for a ride. I didn't look at her directly, I only caught the brightness of her newly bleached hair out of the corner of my eye.
The hairdresser, still in the back room sweeping bleached hair trimmings off the floor, poked her head out to congratulate me on my recent marriage. I smiled politely and thanked her. The blonde sitting next to me was apparently intrigued.
"Congratulations! When did you get married?" she asked excitedly.
"May 4th," I said, still not really looking at her. I hate idle chit-chat.
"Oh, have you gotten your pictures back from the photographer yet?"
I paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. "Um... there was no photographer..."
For the first time, I looked at her face, trying to convey meaning with my eyes. But she looked puzzed, so I felt obliged to elaborate. "We just had our family members take photos for us."
Her expression lit up. "Oh, like those cameras you put on the tables?"
Tables? I thought. Clearly she's one of those girls. Someone with a static mental image of the perfect wedding... lots of people sitting at lots of tables, maybe even with assigned seating... and a professional photographer.
I examined her more carefully. She was very bleached, very tan, and very thin, in an artifical way that I didn't find attractive. She was dressed young in a bright red short-sleeved top, blue skinny bootcut jeans, and pointy black heels. But the crows feet and smile lines were telling. She was possibly my age and a little worse for wear, or possibly 10 years older and trying to hide it. The phrase "high maintenance girl" came to mind.
"No," I replied. "We had a very small wedding outdoors. There were no tables."
She looked puzzled again, but she tried to recover. "Oh, I love outdoor weddings, I think they're so spiritual. It would be so neat to get married on a beach in Hawaii or something." I smiled and nodded. "Where did you get married?" she continued.
"Bush Park," I said flatly. It's basically the city park here in Salem. Nice and big, very green with lots of trees, but certainly not faraway or exotic like Hawaii.
She looked puzzled again. She was obviously not following my description. Her vision of the perfect wedding differed too greatly from mine. She was done trying to pull conversation out of me, for which I was grateful.
Finally, a man arrived to pick her up. He sat down next to her, and they talked.
"Do you like my hair?" she beamed.
"Uh... yeah, looks great. It's so... bright!" he said.
She let out an exasperated sigh. "You're supposed to say something good!" she whined.
I started to tune out their conversation, but I continued to pick up little bits here and there.
"I'm going to get my tattoo done by Kat Von D," she said matter-of-factly. She eyed the man sitting next to her. "Do you know who that is?"
"Nope."
"She's like... one of the best tattoo artists in the world. You know, she's got that show on TV...?"
No trace of recognition in the man's face.
"She's dating Nikki Sixx." She waited for a reaction.
The man looked at her strangely. "She's dating a woman? Is she a lesbian?"
Again, the blonde looked confused. "No," she corrected, "she's dating Nikki Sixx."
"I heard you... but Nikki is a woman's name, isn't it...?" The man acted like he was pointing out the obvious.
"Oh my god, you don't know who Nikki Sixx is?!"
The man shook his head half-heartedly.
"He's like... a really famous rock star. Yeah. He's like... really famous."
I don't think the blonde could even name the band that made Nikki Sixx famous. She just knew his name, and knew he was somebody, and that was enough to draw her admiration.
I quietly flipped the pages of my magazine while the blonde and her male friend got up to leave. When she stood up, she looked even more thin and frail than I had realized.
Finally it was time for my haircut.
The hairdresser shared gossip with the other stylish while she prepared to shampoo my hair.
"You know she had cancer, right? Yeah... she was living in California, but her husband kicked her out. He couldn't deal with the illness I guess."
Then I felt horrible. Poor woman, no wonder she looks so thin. But my hairdresser wasn't done yet.
"Then she moved up here to stay with her mom, but her mom kicked her out too."
I didn't know what to think then. How could any mother turn her own daughter away when she's suffering from cancer?
"She's... high maintenance," the hairdresser continued.
The other stylist looked curious.
"Well... she's a stripper, if you couldn't tell..."
Ah, there's the magic word. Suddenly it all makes sense. She is one of those girls. The bleached hair, tanned skin, and ditzy conversation were all explained now. And the extreme thinness, which I still feel bad about.
I don't know why I love gossip so much. I don't wish other people ill, but I sure like to hear about their lives. Apparently the hair salon is a good place for gossip. Maybe I should get a trim more often.
As I was flipping through a dated fashion magazine, a woman who'd just had her hair done came out and sat near me, waiting for a ride. I didn't look at her directly, I only caught the brightness of her newly bleached hair out of the corner of my eye.
The hairdresser, still in the back room sweeping bleached hair trimmings off the floor, poked her head out to congratulate me on my recent marriage. I smiled politely and thanked her. The blonde sitting next to me was apparently intrigued.
"Congratulations! When did you get married?" she asked excitedly.
"May 4th," I said, still not really looking at her. I hate idle chit-chat.
"Oh, have you gotten your pictures back from the photographer yet?"
I paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. "Um... there was no photographer..."
For the first time, I looked at her face, trying to convey meaning with my eyes. But she looked puzzed, so I felt obliged to elaborate. "We just had our family members take photos for us."
Her expression lit up. "Oh, like those cameras you put on the tables?"
Tables? I thought. Clearly she's one of those girls. Someone with a static mental image of the perfect wedding... lots of people sitting at lots of tables, maybe even with assigned seating... and a professional photographer.
I examined her more carefully. She was very bleached, very tan, and very thin, in an artifical way that I didn't find attractive. She was dressed young in a bright red short-sleeved top, blue skinny bootcut jeans, and pointy black heels. But the crows feet and smile lines were telling. She was possibly my age and a little worse for wear, or possibly 10 years older and trying to hide it. The phrase "high maintenance girl" came to mind.
"No," I replied. "We had a very small wedding outdoors. There were no tables."
She looked puzzled again, but she tried to recover. "Oh, I love outdoor weddings, I think they're so spiritual. It would be so neat to get married on a beach in Hawaii or something." I smiled and nodded. "Where did you get married?" she continued.
"Bush Park," I said flatly. It's basically the city park here in Salem. Nice and big, very green with lots of trees, but certainly not faraway or exotic like Hawaii.
She looked puzzled again. She was obviously not following my description. Her vision of the perfect wedding differed too greatly from mine. She was done trying to pull conversation out of me, for which I was grateful.
Finally, a man arrived to pick her up. He sat down next to her, and they talked.
"Do you like my hair?" she beamed.
"Uh... yeah, looks great. It's so... bright!" he said.
She let out an exasperated sigh. "You're supposed to say something good!" she whined.
I started to tune out their conversation, but I continued to pick up little bits here and there.
"I'm going to get my tattoo done by Kat Von D," she said matter-of-factly. She eyed the man sitting next to her. "Do you know who that is?"
"Nope."
"She's like... one of the best tattoo artists in the world. You know, she's got that show on TV...?"
No trace of recognition in the man's face.
"She's dating Nikki Sixx." She waited for a reaction.
The man looked at her strangely. "She's dating a woman? Is she a lesbian?"
Again, the blonde looked confused. "No," she corrected, "she's dating Nikki Sixx."
"I heard you... but Nikki is a woman's name, isn't it...?" The man acted like he was pointing out the obvious.
"Oh my god, you don't know who Nikki Sixx is?!"
The man shook his head half-heartedly.
"He's like... a really famous rock star. Yeah. He's like... really famous."
I don't think the blonde could even name the band that made Nikki Sixx famous. She just knew his name, and knew he was somebody, and that was enough to draw her admiration.
I quietly flipped the pages of my magazine while the blonde and her male friend got up to leave. When she stood up, she looked even more thin and frail than I had realized.
Finally it was time for my haircut.
The hairdresser shared gossip with the other stylish while she prepared to shampoo my hair.
"You know she had cancer, right? Yeah... she was living in California, but her husband kicked her out. He couldn't deal with the illness I guess."
Then I felt horrible. Poor woman, no wonder she looks so thin. But my hairdresser wasn't done yet.
"Then she moved up here to stay with her mom, but her mom kicked her out too."
I didn't know what to think then. How could any mother turn her own daughter away when she's suffering from cancer?
"She's... high maintenance," the hairdresser continued.
The other stylist looked curious.
"Well... she's a stripper, if you couldn't tell..."
Ah, there's the magic word. Suddenly it all makes sense. She is one of those girls. The bleached hair, tanned skin, and ditzy conversation were all explained now. And the extreme thinness, which I still feel bad about.
I don't know why I love gossip so much. I don't wish other people ill, but I sure like to hear about their lives. Apparently the hair salon is a good place for gossip. Maybe I should get a trim more often.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sad Day
This has been kind of a shitty day, but not for the usual reasons.
I missed my chiropractor's appointment this morning, which is ironic, because I woke up with a whole ton of back pain. Since I'm no longer working in my own office, I don't get my calendar reminders anymore. In my brain, I thought my appointment was tomorrow, not today, and I wasn't sitting in front of Outlook so it could tell me otherwise. The chiropractor is out on vacation starting tomorrow, so I can't see him for the next two weeks.
I missed a phone call from Joe, and that really bummed me out too, although I'm happy to hear his voice in voicemail, at least that means he's safe.
I've been extra tired and bumbling all day, partially from my back pain. I also feel like I might be getting sick again.
The female goldfinch hasn't been on her nest all morning, and I'm a bit worried about her. I saw the male fly up with food for the chicks. I'm glad he is taking care of them still. I hope the female returns safely.
I just got email from my mom with two bits of very sad news --
My great-aunt is apparently on her death bed. She's been very ill for several months now. She was in the hospital for weeks, and they released her to go home, but she fell down during the night and had to go back. Now her doctor says she's dying. She's in a nursing home receiving hospice care now.
Lastly, one of my favorite teachers from high school passed away last week. That one made me cry in my office. He taught me biology, chemistry, marine biology, and he was my coach for cross country and track. He loved the same mexican restaurant that I always go to when I'm home for a visit, and he started me on the habit of never driving through Seattle without stopping for a cheeseburger at Dick's. He would give extra credit if we spotted whales and called him so he could come take pictures. I saw grey whales one day, I called him, and he was there in a flash with is camera, all excited like a little kid at christmas time. He was the only one of our teachers who cried repeatedly at our graduation. He loved our class, and we loved him. He was a good man, and a good teacher.
My mom also reminded me that it will be 2 years on Sunday since my great-grandparents both died. I miss them so much.
So... it's been a melancholy day. I feel poopy. But it's lunchtime now, hopefully I'll feel better after some food.
I missed my chiropractor's appointment this morning, which is ironic, because I woke up with a whole ton of back pain. Since I'm no longer working in my own office, I don't get my calendar reminders anymore. In my brain, I thought my appointment was tomorrow, not today, and I wasn't sitting in front of Outlook so it could tell me otherwise. The chiropractor is out on vacation starting tomorrow, so I can't see him for the next two weeks.
I missed a phone call from Joe, and that really bummed me out too, although I'm happy to hear his voice in voicemail, at least that means he's safe.
I've been extra tired and bumbling all day, partially from my back pain. I also feel like I might be getting sick again.
The female goldfinch hasn't been on her nest all morning, and I'm a bit worried about her. I saw the male fly up with food for the chicks. I'm glad he is taking care of them still. I hope the female returns safely.
I just got email from my mom with two bits of very sad news --
My great-aunt is apparently on her death bed. She's been very ill for several months now. She was in the hospital for weeks, and they released her to go home, but she fell down during the night and had to go back. Now her doctor says she's dying. She's in a nursing home receiving hospice care now.
Lastly, one of my favorite teachers from high school passed away last week. That one made me cry in my office. He taught me biology, chemistry, marine biology, and he was my coach for cross country and track. He loved the same mexican restaurant that I always go to when I'm home for a visit, and he started me on the habit of never driving through Seattle without stopping for a cheeseburger at Dick's. He would give extra credit if we spotted whales and called him so he could come take pictures. I saw grey whales one day, I called him, and he was there in a flash with is camera, all excited like a little kid at christmas time. He was the only one of our teachers who cried repeatedly at our graduation. He loved our class, and we loved him. He was a good man, and a good teacher.
My mom also reminded me that it will be 2 years on Sunday since my great-grandparents both died. I miss them so much.
So... it's been a melancholy day. I feel poopy. But it's lunchtime now, hopefully I'll feel better after some food.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Sappiness Alert
So once again, I should be working. But I needed to pause for a moment of reflection.
I'm feeling so inspired by the family of goldfinches outside my office window. I've seen the male goldfinch come and go throughout the afternoon. He always lands on the same low branch of the tree, surveys the area around him carefully in all directions, then when he's sure it's safe, he flies up under the foliage to the nest. He passes a beak full of food to the female, who has been sitting on the nest constantly. When the exchange is completed, they sing to each other very briefly, and he takes off in search of more food.
During the last few days (excluding the weekend), it looked like the female was eating the food herself while incubating her eggs. But today, I noticed that she's not sitting inside the nest anymore. She's perched up on the edge now. And during the last exchange of food between the male and female, I saw her make the motions of distributing the food amongst an unknown number of chicks.
After a few hours of repeated peeks at the nest, I finally caught a glimpse of a tiny chick's head, poking up out of the next, beak open, asking for food.
:) :) :) :) :)
I'm so proud of this little family.
She had to commit to sitting on those eggs non-stop for weeks, even during our 100 degree plus weather last week. And he had to commit to bringing her food continually throughout the day. And now that the chicks are hatched, he brings her food, and she feeds it to the little ones. What teamwork! How the heck do they know how to do this? Is it learned? Is it instinct?
I still remember when the scrawny little male was alone and searching for a mate. It looks like he's done good for himself, and for his new family.
I'm feeling so inspired by the family of goldfinches outside my office window. I've seen the male goldfinch come and go throughout the afternoon. He always lands on the same low branch of the tree, surveys the area around him carefully in all directions, then when he's sure it's safe, he flies up under the foliage to the nest. He passes a beak full of food to the female, who has been sitting on the nest constantly. When the exchange is completed, they sing to each other very briefly, and he takes off in search of more food.
During the last few days (excluding the weekend), it looked like the female was eating the food herself while incubating her eggs. But today, I noticed that she's not sitting inside the nest anymore. She's perched up on the edge now. And during the last exchange of food between the male and female, I saw her make the motions of distributing the food amongst an unknown number of chicks.
After a few hours of repeated peeks at the nest, I finally caught a glimpse of a tiny chick's head, poking up out of the next, beak open, asking for food.
:) :) :) :) :)
I'm so proud of this little family.
She had to commit to sitting on those eggs non-stop for weeks, even during our 100 degree plus weather last week. And he had to commit to bringing her food continually throughout the day. And now that the chicks are hatched, he brings her food, and she feeds it to the little ones. What teamwork! How the heck do they know how to do this? Is it learned? Is it instinct?
I still remember when the scrawny little male was alone and searching for a mate. It looks like he's done good for himself, and for his new family.
Confused Monday
So... I should be working right now, but I'm so not ready to be part of the office this morning.
Mondays are strange now. We do all of our work in week-long iterations. Each iteration starts on Thursday and ends on Wednesday. At the end of Wednesday when the iteration is over, the sense of completion makes me feel like the week should be over too. But it's not. We still have two days to go. And Thursday is always a bear because we spend most of it in planning meetings. By Friday, I'm completely drained.
Then Monday comes around. I'm still drained. I look at our iteration board, where all of our tasks are posted, and I realize we still have a ton of work to do, with only three days in which to do it. It feels like a mad rush to get everything done in time.
But here's where it's really strange. We've picked Monday as our "research day". The whole department takes half a working day to focus on research. It can be done together or individually. Most people opt for individual time, since we don't otherwise get that anymore.
So it's the start of a new week, yet we're in the middle of an iteration. We have all this work to be do before the iteration ends on the day after tomorrow, and there's enormous pressure on us to make it happen... yet... we pause for research time.
It's weird.
I'm not saying it's bad. It's just completely different than what we're used to. My work schedule feels... off. I'm having trouble adapting.
Monday is more overwhelming than it used to be. Thursday is no longer my favorite day of the work week because it's filled with very long meetings. Friday is the end of the week, but not the end of the iteration.
I'm sure I'll come around eventually after we've been through a few more iterations. This can't remain weird forever, can it?
Mondays are strange now. We do all of our work in week-long iterations. Each iteration starts on Thursday and ends on Wednesday. At the end of Wednesday when the iteration is over, the sense of completion makes me feel like the week should be over too. But it's not. We still have two days to go. And Thursday is always a bear because we spend most of it in planning meetings. By Friday, I'm completely drained.
Then Monday comes around. I'm still drained. I look at our iteration board, where all of our tasks are posted, and I realize we still have a ton of work to do, with only three days in which to do it. It feels like a mad rush to get everything done in time.
But here's where it's really strange. We've picked Monday as our "research day". The whole department takes half a working day to focus on research. It can be done together or individually. Most people opt for individual time, since we don't otherwise get that anymore.
So it's the start of a new week, yet we're in the middle of an iteration. We have all this work to be do before the iteration ends on the day after tomorrow, and there's enormous pressure on us to make it happen... yet... we pause for research time.
It's weird.
I'm not saying it's bad. It's just completely different than what we're used to. My work schedule feels... off. I'm having trouble adapting.
Monday is more overwhelming than it used to be. Thursday is no longer my favorite day of the work week because it's filled with very long meetings. Friday is the end of the week, but not the end of the iteration.
I'm sure I'll come around eventually after we've been through a few more iterations. This can't remain weird forever, can it?
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