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3.11.01 . . . piles of dandelion pollen
Delightful
weekend. Lots of sleep, a nap, my first Red
Mill burger, and wonderful, provocative art by Wolfgang Laib at the Henry. Spent today catching up on stuff
like paying bills and throwing out some of the various paper stacked
about my office. Pounded pork chops thin to make schnitzel for
dinner. I also got lost on the Web for several hours--the first time
in maybe a year that I've just wandered around and taken in the glory
that is the global data network.
3.6.01 . . . unexpected convergence
You
can't escape your past. But why, really, would you want to? Or put another
way, why even try?
Coming
out of the gym today I heard "Mark Donovan!" and ran into Brennon, who
I thought was living in the valley making his high tech millions.
Wrong. Brennon is the guy who whispered in my ear sometime in 1997 that
he was leaving his job at UWired, and really, I should apply for the
position. I did, was hired, and was promptly launched down another thrilling
path in adventure that is my non-linear-career.
Last
night was the quake-delayed webStrategic W2 party, held at the same
historic, but otherwise unpleasant bar--hell held at the same table--at
which we conducted the drunken wake for wS last April. Wonderful to
see the glorious folks of webStrategic again (at least most of those
still in Seattle). The conversation drifted from cancer (being battled
by one former co-worker's toddler, and another's good friend, and having
struck my mother and killed the husband of another former coworker)
to layoffs (two of our cohort has had a pair of layoffs in the past
year) to Formula One racing. Despite the conversational topics the mood
was upbeat and we all agreed that webStrategic had a great idea and
exquisitely poor timing. For all of us, the experience of working together
seemed much, much larger than the small amount of time we actually were
in business. What more can you ask of your past?
3.4.01
. . . miso-rama
There
are few things I enjoy more than spending a whole day thinking about
what I'm going to have for dinner. I flip through a mental list of ingredients,
do thought experiments on different combinations and preparations, reference
a dozen cookbooks for ideas, and give myself a cram course in the art
of, say, braising.
Today
I meditated on miso,
purchasing three tubs of the stuff at two stores. (Unable to read the
Japanese labels and thinking I had purchased some red and yellow miso,
I picked up some white miso at the co-op only to discover that it was
also yellow.) I discovered that Japanese cucumbers
are amazingly flavorful, miso is easy to cook with, and rice really
does taste better if you wash
it three times and let it sit for an hour before cooking:
- Miso
soup with clams
- Soft
tofu with scallions, ginger, and tamari
- Tuna
sashimi
- Rice
bowl of miso broiled salmon and gingered spinach
- Cucumber,
daikon,
and pickled ginger
- Beer
2.28.01 . . . i hid under my desk
Nothing grabs your attention quite like an earthquake.
Especially when you've just arranged an inspection to have your house
retrofit
for earthquakes and are waiting on a quote for earthquake insurance.
With work
evacuated, I beat a hasty retreat home hoping that Dia wasn't
pinned under a falling bookcase, the cats hadn't run away, and we weren't
facing financial ruin. She wasn't, they didn't,
we aren't.
A planned webStrategic reunion/W2 pickup party was, however, cancelled.
We'd planned to meet at the bar in Pioneer Square where we drowned our
sorrows when the company cratered
almost a year ago. We
were soooo ahead of the curve, going down as we did well before the
'dot com crash' made pink
slip parties au courant. Nothing like being a trendsetter.
But Pioneer Square was really not the place to be tonight given the
hangover from the riots last
night and today's quake
damage.
2.27.01 . . . my circle of friends
So I have developed this pattern of taking a bus to work and a cab
home. I
live just far enough from the work-end of
downtown that the bus
is a leisurely ride in the morning and a hellacious journey at night.
I have spent the past nine years as a non-polluting, carless pedestrian
and frankly I'm sick of it. This produces an array of conflicting feelings.
As a result of this pattern (I have not yet confirmed it as a habit,
but perhaps I'm in denial), I have had a prime opportunity to engage
many of the fine men who make up the drivers of Seattle's taxi
fleet which one gentleman explained numbered about 430.
Yesterday/this morning I set a personal record:
worked 20 straight hours doing my small part to help stoke the digital media
revolution and thus at 3:15am found myself looking for a cab on
First Avenue. After inquiring why I was the only person on the street
that early, being told I had been working, and where I had been working,
my driver (whose name I confess to forgetting) asked whether I thought
"Windows 2000 was gaining in the server market." I said "no," of course, and
very quickly the conversation turned to Unix and the driver's part-time
job at the UW as a systems adminstrator for the ethno-medicine
department and though I was extraordinarily tired I just thought
the whole unexpected exchange was beautiful.
2.19.01
. . . see "clean office, vow to be neat," below
I am sure my office
could be more efficient and useful. I'm just sure.
I come from
a wonderful family of pack rats. Growing up, the garage was a morass
of stuff. My father ingeniously built all manner of shelving and found
crafty ways to store things in the rafters. Like power tools, paint,
scraps of wood, boxes of things-that-might-be-useful-someday, and piles
of you'll-regret-this-if-you-throw-it-out. And camping gear, suitcases,
Christmas decorations, an Indian headress (mine), and comic books in
individual plastic bags (my
brother's). And a full size chest freezer.
And so I
am genetically encoded with information that makes me work tirelessly
to find better, more efficient, increasingly elegant storage solutions
at the same time that it makes recoil at the thought of throwing out
possessions.
But my office,
my dominion--the only place in the world in which the collection and
arrangement of objects and information is entirely within my control
and is in no manner subject to the desires and conveniences of others--is
but 750 cubic feet.
2.18.01
. . . been there, done this
I realized today that I've been a hermit for the past couple of weeks.
Probably longer given that I've only seen one movie nominated for an
Academy Award (Almost Famous, which I loved, though did catch 2/3 of
Erin Brokovich last night as part of the ongoing Dia's Still Sick Film
Festival).
This is
part of my established M.O. It goes something like this:
- Get sucked
into work, enjoy and accept new challenges, shut down the rest of
my life by declining social engagements and ignoring things like paying
bills
- Notice
that I'm sucked into work and have shut down parts of my life, get
paniced that I've failed to pay bills
- Decide
to pay bills and notice that my home office is a disaster with clothes
on the floor and paper stacked high
- Put everything
on the floor, pay bills, urgently reconnect with good friends, vow
to clean office
- Clean
office, vow to keep it neat
- Go to
see some live music, drink beer with friends, have a great time, vow
to spend more time doing non-work projects
- Rinse,
Repeat.
Now I'm
not complaining. At all. As much as it sometimes feels like I'm on autopilot,
I choose things I do (and don't do), everyday. I've been thinking a
lot about this lately, facing up to the fact that my present state of
existence is not something I want to sustain for too much longer.
But I'm
conflicted. I love--OK need--the rush that comes with being in the center
of a whirlwind of activity, and frankly the above pattern hasn't changed
when I've been soloing (as an academic), leading (at UWired), or following
(at Real). So it's just me. But I do pause to think: what would 'balance'
look like? What would it feel like? I suppose I should try and find
out. Stay tuned.
2.14.01
. . . finally!
Hip hip hooray! My book arrived. Actually five complimentary copies
of my book, with the option to purchase additional copies at a generous
40% discount. What a delightful feeling to have spent seven years working
on a manuscript and to finally get to see it in all it's glossy two-color
cover, neatly typeset glory.
It's a thin
volume, clocking in at a mere 109 pages before you add in the appendices.
Let's do the math . . . that's 15.6 pages per year or 1.3 pages per
month over the life of the project. Stephen King I am not. I expect
the first royalty check to roll in in about a year and I boldly predict
that (minus the cost of indexing which is charged against royalties)
that my first check as an author will be for approximately $171. I am
not giving up my day job.
2.11.01
. . . what was that that just happened?
The past week just
evaporated. Unusually urgent and difficult firedrills at work. Dia at
home all week with a fever, just now appearing to be somewhat ambulatory.
A long scheduled, aptly timed seminar/lecture on "Coping with Information Overload"
presented on Friday. A long scheduled, poorly timed three-day weekend
cancelled. I hope the breach in the space-time continuum has been repaired.
Perhaps it's now subject to rolling
blackouts.
2.1.01 . . . what have i become?
Had a delightful breakfast with a former colleague from the UW. Had
been musing on the fact that it's been a year since I left the UW and
dived fulltime into the capitalist machine. While waiting for the cafe
to open, I was gripped by the graffiti on the door frame: MARKETING
TOOL. I think I need new business cards.
1.31.01 . . . time to pass out the Ritalin
As I've seen my world dissolve into a chaotic blur over the past five
years I've often thought that there had to be a label for a style of
existence dependent on email, cell phones, and rapid shifts in attention.
Apparently others did to. I read today in the paper (and don't even
know if it was today's paper) that we all suffer from "continuous partial
attention" these days. Sounds about right.
2.29.01 . . . and I didn't even have a covered wagon
My past catches up with me--and makes it sound better than it ever was!
Today I received three complimentary copies of a book
that republished an article I wrote with a good friend, probably two
years ago now. Apparently, according to the subtitle of the book, I
am now a pioneer of E-learning. Anyone want to explain what "E-Learning"
is?
1.28.01
. . . things to do
New Year's letter is
up with some links and a pix; more to come. Spent much of the weekend
sending out another wave of letters (and updating my contacts), reading
about Japanese food, and sorting out plans for 2001. So far:
- Bolt
house to foundation (earthquakes)
- Paint
house
- Paint
bathroom
- Buy new
worms for the worm bin
- Two weddings
in June (Alaska, Chicago)
- Lautenschlager houseboat trip in September
- Burning
Man
- Stock
pantry with Japanese ingredients
- Buy some
sort of car so I can stop riding the bus
1.26.01
I plan to have an annotated (links pix) version of our New
Year's letter (aka what-we-mailed-out-since-we-failed-to-send-christmas-cards)
up this weekend.
1.25.01
. . . my head was irradiated 18 times
At the dentist. After a two year sabbatical. My previous
dentist was incompetent and it's been a wacky 24 months. And so I pay
the price . . . fillings and a mouthguard are in my future. (I know,
too much information).
Went to emp tonight
for a reception hosted by the Master Builders
Association of King and Snohomish Counties and a lecture by the
project manager of emp construction. Screw Frank O Gehry--the project
manger is the guy who made this unthinkable building
happen. Answered many questions about building maintenance, building codes, construction
tolerances, sub-contractor relations . . . fascinating. Really.
1.24.01
. . . back to work
I have shaken off the jet lag and been swallowed by work.
I like my work, don't get me wrong, but on days like today my head spins:
12 meetings, 2 conference calls (I cancelled one of each since I have
yet to figure out how to be in two places at once). Locked in meetings
8am-7pm. I need a drink.
 1.21.01 . . . when toliets attack
While the high tech toliets are groovy, they can also be dangerous.
Unable to figure out the cryptic
(to me) control panel of a toliet in a large bookstore, I randomly
pressed buttons and was greeted by a gushing bidet stream that left
me soaked.
I high tailed
it to Shibuya, happening center of Tokyo pop culture, where I checked
out cool
mobile devices, browsed for J-Pop CDs, and got caught with the rest
of Tokyo in snow storm.
Lunch at
a conveyor belt sushi joint and dinner at a Yakitori hole in the wall
where I demured when offered the opportunity to sample raw horse and
whale meat and grilled spinal cord. Did have one adventurous dish, but
our encounter went badly and I really don't want to talk about it. Time
to go home. Only regret is that I failed to find any Iron Chef souveniers.
1.20.01
. . . tokyo!
 Tokyo has been
amazing. Where to start? The heated toliet seats? The vending machines
on every corner? The crazy Japanese teen fashion? The mobile phone culture?
The work portion of the trip went very well and consumed most of my
time here, but I did steal of yesterday morning--very early ~5am--and
visit the Tsujiki fish market, the world's largest. Makes the Pike Place
Market look like amateur hour. Wandered around trying to stay out of
the way and finished the morning with sushi at 7am, the best I've ever
had.
 People here are completely attached
to their cell phones, and it's not just a 'phone'--large color displays,
complete Internet access, mesaging, news, music, you name it. I rode
the subway next to a woman about 20 years old who was busy checking
messages on two phones while also swapping the memory card between her
two portable music devices.
Young women in Tokyo seem to cleave to a strange uniform that includes
school girl skirts and boots with 4-6" platform heels. I have no doubt
there is a porn site somewhere devoted to this. Adherence to the uniform
is a public health threat--apparently eight women have died in the past
year, loosing their footing and tumbling down stairs at train stations.
Talk about fashion victims.
Wish I had weeks to explore the city, but alas, I have another 24hours
and am itching to return home to Dia and the kitties.
1.16.01 . . . still in hong kong [ready to leave]
We did our seminar in Hong Kong yesterday. About 50 people,
good questions, but it's clear that business is tough in this part of
the world--the mainland is offering huge incentives (free rent, triple
your headcount) to move out of Hong Kong. There's a certain nervousness
in the air.
One clear
lesson of this trip is how much 'globalization' has accelerated  in the ten years since
I was last in Asia. Have yet to really find any products that you can't
buy in any major world city, and even most of the 'local' goods are
available back home at Uwajimaya.
Prices are comparable too. What you can't get back home, though, are
handpainted portraits of Bill Gates! Tomorrow morning it's off to Tokyo.
I've been studying up.
1.13.01 . . . hong kong by night
I embraced my timezone displacement by sleeping
until 11pm then going out on the town. With an energy I rarely have
at home, I visited five clubs, two of which I wish could be transplanted
to Seattle. The other three were clubs/bars in the Wan Chai district--a
formerly much seedier area that is now a mostly white, nightlife ghetto.
A strong memory from my previous visit is how obnoxious many of the
expats were, and this seems not to have changed, at least for those
who populated the bars/clubs I ducked into in Wan Chai. Predictable,
lousy disco with too many loud, beer-swilling Brits.
Lan Kwai
Fong, a densely packed warren of alleys and streets on one of Hong Kong's
many hills, was much better. I'd serindipitously hooked up with a pair
of British bankers the night before and they'd kindly introduced me
to their fashionable friends and a pair of clubs. The one I really enjoyed--Phi
Bs--is a tiny cavern with walls made of inlaid river rock, and a terrific
DJ spinning from one end of the stylish glass bar. The crowd was chic,
international and with much less attitude than I'd expect. Many of them
seemed to have a continual need to use their new Nokia 8210's.
It was hard enough to talk to another person in the club--I have no
idea how they carried on phone conversations.
I met Anuj,
a young fashion designer from Delhi who took a liking to my pants
("day look very vwersace"). Anuj was in Hong Kong for Fashion Week ("djust
to take in ideas") and wants to go clothes shopping today. I think I
will demure as haute coutre is not in my budget, and I'm not certain
what exactly he liked my pants. . . Left at 3:30am and things were still
hopping. One advantage of staying out until early morning is that it
makes it feasible to call Dia in Seattle when she's actually awake.
1.12.01 . . . hong kong
 I'm in Asia
spreading the RealSystem
iQ gospel. Arrived in Taipei late Wednesday night and we did the
first of three seminars
in Asia on Thursday--packed
house, good reception, though not all my presentation humor translated
well into Mandarin. Arrived in Hong Kong last night. I was here in 1989,
just pre-Tiananmen, before the handover. I'm just not up for touristy
stuff and haven't been hit by the shopping urge, so I slept in and simply
wandered around. Biggest excitement was a Falun Gong protest that I
watched for a while, only to discover this was a really
big deal.
Dia reports
she's enjoying my absence as she can sleep diagonally on the bed. Kiki
is doing OK after giving us a terrible scare just before I left. She's
a very old kitty and we're glad she's hanging on for a while longer
. . .
Great to
have the chance to visit this part of the world again, and I'm very
much looking forward to my first visit to Tokyo, but work is work, and
it's no easier when your body doesn't know what timezone it's in.
1.8.01 . . . reboot
I've rebooted this website. I have yet to figure out how to maintain
a website in the midst of the daily chaos.
I had hopes that Blogger could
help, but their site is down. (I have not given up on them yet).
I leave the country tomorrow for two weeks and am rushed per usual.
The hyper linked new years letter doesn't really have hyperlinks
yet.
Oh well. I will be more vigilant in my web-ways. Promise. Maybe.
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