Archive for the ‘Musings’ Category

stepping on cracks

Thursday, August 20th, 2009

I remember at a very young age being quite particular about the choices I made. I’m not talking big choices; these choices were the minutia of daily life. I felt that the small decisions I made would have drastic impacts on my later life. For instance, if I walked along a sidewalk and there was a crack, which side of the crack would I place my next footfall? Maybe the right side would bring happiness and fortune and the left would doom me to a life of misery.

So it’s no surprise that I identify personally with chaos theory, fractals, and the butterfly effect.

Tonight, I was unwrapping Starbursts and came across two strawberry flavored candies. I felt very strongly that the candy on the right was the one I should open, but for whatever reason I opened the one on the left. The entire time, I felt that I was doing something terribly wrong, that this choice had doomed me to a terrible fate.

The candy was tasty, but I still have a nagging feeling that I will pay a terrible price.

modern farm life

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

I Effing hate cubicles. With a capital eff.

That is all.

i want the metaphor

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

The mid-life crisis is progressing quite nicely, thank-you-very-much. I really wouldn’t be so down if my job was evolving in a direction that was compatible with my skill set. I remember days where the majority of time was spent coding, and I actually really enjoy doing that. I need to get back to that, and so the last few days I’ve spider-holed myself in the family computer room, rewriting an accounting application that I originally wrote some years ago.

It’s good to have an activity where you can see real results. Like gardening. Or bicycling.

I had to get out of the office this morning or go crazy, so I took the road bike* out for a spin. The Torrey Pines hill is sort-of-close to my office and I decided to add Mount Soledad in there as well. All in all, some good hills packed into a sub-30 mile ride:

  • Pacific Heights, a short connector road up to Mira Mesa Blvd.
  • Portofino to Mango, which connect Carmel Valley Rd to Del Mar Heights
  • Torrey Pines
  • Mount Soledad
  • La Jolla Shores

According to MapMyRide, almost 2000 feet of climbing.

As I slogged up Mount Soledad, I thought of the metaphor that might apply: working hard; not quitting; achieving a goal. And when I peaked the summit I lamented that if only everything else coud be so simple.

Someone forwarded me one of those inspirational things, maybe you’ve seen it: 212 The Extra Degree. It’s fine if you’re into that Tony Robbins crap but all I could think is that the statistics are all taken out of context and therefore totally meaningless. I know I need to adopt some of that philosophy but I just can’t buy into it. It’s all a big scam to me.

I want the metaphor. I really do. But like I said, it’s just not that simple.

______________________
* commuter bike is still waiting on a new spoke. grrr….

perspective

Thursday, June 25th, 2009

Comparatively speaking, I have no right to complain. Blind luck saw me born in one of the most affluent nations of the world, to a family that by any standard was fairly well-off. By that token, I belong to an elite group of probably 1% of the most affluent people of the world.

But this apparent wealth is tenuous, and its price is soul-crushing. My parents, while providing a stable home, lived paycheck to paycheck. My father sacrificed his happiness to provide for his family, perhaps waiting for retirement to pursue his passions, but was ultimately robbed of his golden years by that awful disease. I’m heading down the same path, and the longer I continue, the farther I fall into debt and the more bitter I become.

I feel both physically and psychologically trapped. In the physical world, I spend the bulk of my time confined in small spaces: car, cubicle, rooms in a house. Bicycling is the one activity that allows me to breathe air and see the horizon, but even that is stifled by traffic. Economically, I can’t sustain this lifestyle. I’ve pretty much topped out my career’s earning potential, yet the cost of living in my region is so high that it’s impossible to support a family with what should be regarded as a very generous income. I am fortunate to have a decent benefits package that includes health insurance, but this insurance is yet one more thing that traps me in my job. I simply can’t afford health insurance on my own, and all of this makes me feel like I’m an indentured servant.

reflection

Thursday, June 18th, 2009

I’ve been thinking a lot about one of my last posts in which I said I feel like Charlie Brown. Every time I think of it I hear the type-A Anthony Robbins people yammering on about how I need to stop waiting for good things to happen and make them happen myself.

Here’s the problem: I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.

It’s clear that I’m unhappy with things as they are right now. The other night I had a dream about nuclear annihilation, and you know what I did in my dream? I left my family so I could find shelter for myself. Way to go, Mr. Honorable McHonor-Turd. Now I’m waiting for the Armageddon dream trifecta: I’ve had dreams of drowning and nuclear bombs, next up is a full-on War of the Wolds alien invasion.

You know why I liked War of the Worlds so much? It’s because no one had any control over anything. Humans were at the mercy of a vastly superior and deadly alien technology, and the story was simply about human nature when there is no hope or possibility of survival. Now that’s a trope I can get behind. But I digress.

The bottom line is that I’m not cut out for the daily grind. I commute in a tiny motorized box to a building where I spend the better part of the day cooped up in a cubicle (read: tiny box), then back into the tiny motorized box to another tiny building where the hell of autism awaits me.

You know what I want more than anything? I want my childhood back.

When I was a kid we lived next to a giant piece of open space where a creek was fed by a nearby mountain. I miss catching pollywogs and frogs, floating boats down the water, and exploring the huge expanse of open, natural land. I don’t have that anymore, and I feel profoundly sad that my son has nothing close to it.

So what can I do to “make it happen”? I have no clue. There’s no money in grieving for one’s youth.

the proverbial cat is bagless

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

Your personal data is like Pandora’s box. I had hoped that our case was just a matter of someone getting a couple of card numbers through nefarious channels, but I fear that our personal data is now being passed around the criminal underworld like currency.

The other night we got a phone call from these jerks fishing for our data.

I fear this is just the opening salvo in a long frustrating war for our credit, and unfortunately the bad guys have the high ground.

Thieves suck ass.

victim of my own stupidity

Monday, April 27th, 2009

Last week, someone on teh intarwebz found both the wife’s and my debit/credit card numbers and started racking up charges. Fortunately, I had been looking at our checking account daily to see whether Bender Ball would credit our account for their own little scam. We called our bank immediately and out of over $700 in total charges, only one for a little over $200 actually posted, which should be reversed some time this week. While I’d like to blame Bender Ball, the fact that the thief found both our debit/credit card numbers (which are different) at the same time leads me to believe that the thief found them elsewhere, possibly at Amazon.com where we both have made purchases in the past.

This could have been far worse.

I may be in the minority with this lesson, but for anyone else still that minority, here’s some advice: don’t ever, EVER use a debit/credit card that’s linked to your checking account on the internet. While it may have the same fraud protection as a credit card, any fraudulent charges are still going to post to your checking account until you are aware of what’s happening, and by then your account may be cleaned out. And it’s not a question of whether it will happen to you, it’s a matter of when.

The wife and I have discussed what to do, and while it scares the crap out of us, we’re going to use a credit card for all transactions from now on, including gas and groceries, and pay off the balance each month. I’m really apprehensive about this, since it opens the door to racking up more charges than we can pay off, but I think it’s the “best worst” solution.

And if you’re not paranoid enough, here are some articles about credit card skimming:

bender ball is a scam

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

Well I’m preaching to the choir here but I guess the more bad publicity for these jerks, the better.

We fell for the marketing and bought a Bender Ball a few months ago. When we ordered, I am positive that the order page said nothing about enrolling in a monthly DVD program. It’s more prominent now, but had we seen it, we never would have bought it. And unfortunately, we made the mistake of charging to a card that’s linked to our checking account.

A month after receiving the product, we received a package containing more DVDs. I was confused and checked our account, and sure enough they had dinged us for $30.86. We immediately called their “customer service” line, cancelled our “subscription” (which we did not knowingly enroll in) and returned the DVDs.

This month, they dinged us again for $19.99. I called them up and they said they haven’t received the return, that it takes 6-8 weeks to process returns, and that the $19.99 was a balance from the $30.86 from last month. If they ever get around to crediting our account, they won’t credit shipping and handling. So far, we’re out over $70 for a $10 product.

Lessons learned:

  1. Do not use a card that’s linked to your checking account to make purchases online. Or for that matter, use only physical checks. While our card comes with the same purchase protection as a credit card, there is also the possibility that unauthorized charges will overdraft the account.
  2. Check for scams before making an online purchase with a company that you have not done business with. (google their name + scam or complaint).

Pissy

Monday, December 18th, 2006

I’ve been in a godawful mood for awhile now. So I’ve been staying away from blogging because I usually post a bunch of melodramatic crap that noone wants to read, the kind of stuff that embarrasses me when I look back from down the road a bit.

So I’ll post it anyway. Fuck myself.

Something got screwed up in my wiring. I can actually feel my brain fighting itself. The reptile brain at the bottom just wants to drive fast and beat things senseless, screw everyone else and the consequences. The conscious layers on top are always processing in overdrive, beating back reptilian impulses with arguments of morality and social order. An hour’s commute and I’m overclocked and overheating and I can’t escape. I need a vacation, not from work but from myself. And I haven’t even gotten to work yet.

It’s no wonder I have an autistic child. I gave him those genes. At some deep root level I knew from the beginning that any child of mine would have these problems. But I ignored the instinctive knowledge. It’s simply too horrific to face.

And so I emerge from the hourlong commute at the end of the day, only it’s not the end, it’s just the beginning of the next stage, the one where the four-year-old autistic child is overclocked and overburdened and overwhelmed, imprisoned within layers of faulty evolution, frontal lobe and neocortex struggling to regulate the reptile with fractured rules of consciousness. And I realize that he is a 4-year-old 9-month-old, and I wonder if at 20 years will he be a 20-year-old 2-year-old? With my patience void and the reptile creeping out, I wonder how anyone could survive this, and ultimately what is the point of everything?

He is broken, as am I. God fucked up.

It is one thing to rationalize this as a burden placed upon my family, some sort of character test designed by the universe. We must be strong people if the universe gave us this challenge. But the argument is flawed. Underneath it all is a little boy who has no choice, who lives the majority of his life in utter frustration and rage. He is so angry, and with good reason. The universe gave him a broken brain. God gave it to him. Made in God’s image, indeed.

And so we have freewill, that explains everything, right? That humans should suffer at the capricious whim of circumstance is simply proof that we possess the gift of freewill, for the ability to choose allows us to rise above circumstance. God simply set the universe in motion, and what took over is cruel indeed, cancer and illness and psychopathy and asshole drivers and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Need I mention George Bush?

The casual observer may conclude that within all this drivel is a cry for help or maybe an individual who is on the verge of breaking, of “going postal.” Not to worry, I don’t work with the postal service. I’m just in one of my moods.

A bad joke

Friday, August 12th, 2005

A man walks into a bar.

He went to the hospital where he received several stitches and was treated for a concussion.