Shallow Thinker

I was doing a bit of housekeeping on the admin side of the blog this morning and realized that I had some draft posts sitting and waiting to be finished.  What better way to spend the Thanksgiving than to try to figure out what I was trying to say?

Self Assessment

March 04, 2010

I have decided that I am slowly changing into something else. It’s tough to narrow down exactly what I am becoming, but I think that I’ve got two options. Either I am turning into a cantankerous old man, or I am turning into a dog. It’s a toss-up right now.

Ummm…..yeah, I don’t know where I was going with this one.  Maybe I growl a lot?  Maybe I pee wherever I feel like…  It’s tough to say.

My Contribution to April Fool’s Day

April 01, 2010

That’s it.  No text.  No pictures.  So I contributed something, we just don’t know what.  Or maybe I contributed nothing. Or maybe the joke was that I actually made some type of contribution to anything.  This may be one of the world’s greatest mysteries…except for Stonehenge.  But we all know that’s where the Banshees live.  And they do live well.

Common Thread

April 16, 2010

I have been involved in some type of organization for most of my life.  When I say “involved”, I don’t mean that I’ve been a member of a group, I mean that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into said groups and I’ve tried to push them to be better than where they would have been had I not been involved.  There were a couple of small groups in high school.  In college, I started doing it to a greater degree (that’s an education pun!) and now I’ve noticed that I still seek to do do it.

Just like before, I have no idea where I was going with this post.  It sounds like it was going to be a serious post, but the flash of comedic brilliance at the end kind of makes me question that logic.  Maybe you should think of a really good life lesson and assume I was about to tell it to you.  Because that’s exactly what I was going to say.  And I was going to be eloquent and charming.  Unlike my normal self.

There you go. That’s it. That’s all the behind-the-scenes stuff that goes on at this blog. Consider yourself privileged to have been able to see this.  Not everyone can.  (Actually, they can.)

I’m somewhat introverted.  Especially when it comes to  some of my daily tasks.  At work, I like to use the restroom that is located away form the offices and is unlikely to have someone walk in and disturb my quiet time.  This morning I ventured to my favorite spot.  As I was concentrating on completing my task, I heard an alarm sound.  A wave of panic crept over me because my first thought was that this was the fire alarm.  I tried to figure out what to do before I talked myself into believing that it was the security alarm (one of the panels is located just outside of the restroom door) and that someone would eventually turn it off.  (Side Note: Shouldn’t the alarms have a voice that intermittently tells you what kind of alarm it is.  That way you don’t run outside because of a fire only to find out it’s the tornado siren?  Sorry, I digress…) Luckily, I was right, the alarm was soon silenced, and was able to complete my duties (pun!) in the peace that I enjoy.

But this got me to thinking.  (Hey, it’s quiet in there. It’s a good place to ponder things.)  What if the fire alarm really did go off while I was in the middle of my business?  What would you do in that situation.  If you stay with the building, you risk being burned and found by the firefighters/coroner in a very compromising position.  If you run out of the building, you’d be standing outside forever with agonizing pressure building up inside of you.  And you know that the alarms take forever before they sound the “all clear” and let you back inside.  Especially when it’s cold and rainy.

I came to the conclusion that I would probably risk my safety for a couple of minutes in order to finish my…um…”work.”  Here’s m reasoning: Obviously, the fire wouldn’t have been in the bathroom because I would have seen it when I walked in, so I would have a little time to work with.  Worst case scenario is that the flames begin to close in on me right as I’m finishing. But fortunately, I am in a room with a lot of water at my disposal. I could turn the sinks on and protect myself for a while if I had to.  But I wouldn’t have to.  Why? I would run through the flames to safety.  If I were found alive in the bathroom, everyone know what I was doing in there.  and they’d all know about my great pooping spot.  But if I ran through the fire, not only would I keep the secrecy of my sanctuary, everyone outside would see me running out the door through the flames.  I would be legendary.  And I would further my legend by telling people that I was trying to rescue valuable company property…but I just didn’t have enough time before it caught fire.

Yes, this is the kind of thing I think about on a daily basis.  I’ll save my story for what I’d do if I survived an epic disaster that wipes out most of the population for another day.  (Hint: Take a car from a dealership, rest their souls, and drive it as fast as I could.)

As I was leaving my grandparents basement, I saw one more box on a shelf that I decided to look through.  I opened it up and instantly remembered sitting in a pile of sand on their property and playing with trucks and tractors.  I grabbed the box, took it home, and sat it in the garage with my other treasures.  I thought that I could maybe display these items on a shelf or something, but really didn’t know what use they would be other than a great trigger for nostalgia.  Later that week, I came home and my girls had discovered the toys.

Yes, that’s Luke Skywalker driving a tractor.  Apparently, the Jedi Council isn’t paying as well these days as it did long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.  He’s actually Butterfly’s toy.  I think she has a crush.

The Lego people were Ladybug’s addition.  She wanted some people to drive, too.

Sometimes I wonder how facebook knows me so well.  Here’s an advertisement that was recently on the side of my page:

You know, I could use some tips for shaking up my workout, but this dude has some secrets that I really don’t want to know.  I wonder if he can even scratch his head.

I have always been warned about those kinds of people.  You know.  The ones with tattoos or more than one earring.  Maybe even some type of piercing other than the ear.  You know what these things mean, don’t you.  It means that they are thieves, murders, deviants, and just plain weird.  The exceptions to this rule are sailors.  Or people who had a wild spring break in college.  But other than that, no normal people have tattoos.

About two years ago, I began working on a tattoo design for myself. Originally, I thought it might be good incentive to help me get into shape.  If I could get the design looking good, it would be something to strive for because to pull of the tatted look, you have to have some guns.  And I didn’t have any guns.

My first design wasn’t all that great (on the left), but I had a concept in mind with some important elements that I wanted included. I thought a local artist might help.  I looked online for reviews and picked the one (out of only two or three) that had the best review.  That was a mistake.  The guy was missing more teeth than he had and his shop looked like one of those places where you get your bad spring break tattoo.  And he was absolutely no help with the design.  I left disappointed and thought maybe it was just a bad idea.

As last July approached, I thought about the design again and wondered if it would make a good 30th birthday present to myself, but I couldn’t get the design anywhere close to what I wanted and I had no idea of where to get it done.    Without something that I felt comfortable getting traced on my arm, I let the idea die down.

This past spring, I started forming a little bit better of an idea of what I wanted.  And my friend Daniel had a great recommendation for a place to get some work done.  So I went back to the drawing board.  All of the important elements were still included, but the design was getting much closer to something I could live with.  I called the artist, sent him my concept (shown on the right), and set an appointment.  As luck would have it, my business travels took me to a conference within ten miles of Ink and Dagger in Decatur, GA. Daniel had a good experience with Jeremy Sutton, so I called him up.

Monday evenings are apparently a slow time around the parlors.  When I walked in, Jeremy was working on my design.  He showed my the computer screen and I could immediately tell that he knew what he was doing.  He took special care to make my design look better while maintaining the elements that I wanted.  Here’s the finished product:

They say the the sign of a good tattoo is that you want to go back and get more done.  I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t already thinking about the next one.  But don’t worry.  It will be something small and unnoticeable…

And yes, I’m aware that I’ll need to bulk-up a bit in order to pull this one off.

On my way to work this morning, I was fortunate (?) enough to get to listen to some of the local news-talk radio station.  After three or four callers voiced their opinion on a recent matter, I began to ponder:

It seems like the only time that white Christians (as in race and religion) talk about human rights is when they don’t get their way.

Our valuable tax dollars were well spent in the state of Georgia’s legislative session, which ended at midnight last night.

From the Macon Telegraph:

Senate Bill 474: Makes it clear that people can keep the body of a wild animal killed by a motor vehicle, unless it’s a protected species. Anyone keeping a bear carcass, though, must notify local law enforcement.

Well, thanks for clearing that up.  You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted that rotting squirrel carcass, but thought that I might get in trouble for taking it home with me.

I’m back to having nothing to write.  How about some free songs as a consolation prize:

Free Mp3s From Amazon

If the link doesn’t work, maybe I can just sing you some songs.

I am a sorry excuse for a blogger.  Look at this, I haven’t updated this blog in over a week.  I got on a roll there for a bit, but now I’ve fallen right back off the wagon.

There’s only one way to remedy this situation.  Find something interesting to write about.  But the trouble is, I am not really inspired at the moment.  Perhaps my muse has left me.  Or perhaps my brain is busy with other things.  Or perhaps, deep down inside, I am actually aware of how boring my life is and it causes my brain to subconsciously keep me from writing. Either way, I have been silent for far too long.  So, I break this silence to let you know that I am aware of the silence and that I intend to think of something that will help me prevent similar occurrences.  Unless my brain subconsciously informs me that this is a terrible plan.  Then I’ll have another pointless post.  Like this one.

Three years ago, our little Ladybug entered made her appearance.  As is my custom, I acted like a nerdy father and kept a log of the day she was born.  The only thing that I have edited below is to change the names of our girls and the doctor.  The rest is just as I wrote it that day.

march 21, 2007

5:15 - Butterfly tries to wake Mommy and Daddy. Daddy puts her back to bed

5:45 - Daddy gets in the shower and Butterfly gets in the bed with mommy.

6:15 - Mommy showers and Daddy feeds Butterfly breakfast

6:35 - Mommy eats breakfast while Daddy and Butterfly play with playdough

7:00 - Daddy head off to work

8:50 - Mommy and Butterfly left our house for a scheduled visit with the doctor.

8:55 - Mommy calls Daddy and tells him that she thinks today is the day. Daddy finishes things up at the office and heads towards the hospital/dr’s office.

9:10 - Mommy dropped Butterfly off to play with her best friend while she’s at the doctor.

9:30 - Arrived at Dr. Delivery’s office

9:35 - Daddy meets Mommy at the doctor’s office

9:50 - went back to see the doctor.

10:01 - Daddy feels awkward in the waiting room with all these ladies

10:25 - Dr. Delivery decides to admit mommy to the hospital…she’s at 5 cm!!

10:43 - entered OB assessment (daddy carried the pillow and the pink bag)

Dr. Delivery said that she would come by on her lunch break to break mommy’s water. the nurses will give he petosin as soon as they can.

11:40 - drew blood & started IV. asked a bunch of questions, too.

12:00 - GG picked up Butterfly from her friend’s house and took her to eat at chicj-fil-a. The report we get back is that she danced and showed people her light-up shoes and helped GG eat her chocolate shake!

12:04 - Hospital has finished the grand inquisition

12:25 - Mommy has started pitocin

12:30 - Dr. Delivery dropped in and broke mommy’s water

12:42 - filled out paperwork for epidural

1:04 - Nana and Pappy leave their house to come to the hospital.  About an hour and a half away.

1:29 - Sat up for epidural

1:35 - we think that Daddy came close to passing out when he was helping hold Mommy while they were administering the epidural. He claims that he was perfectly fine the whole time and it just got really hot in the room…stupid air conditioner must have temporarily broken

1:40 - test dose (epidural)

2:05 - the epidural seems to be working, so all the hired help leaves the room.

2:17 - installed catheter - ewwwwe, gross!

2:25 - a little oxygen for good measure

2:30 - we settle down a bit for a little rest. Daddy updates this schedule with a few whitty comments. Once little Ladybug starts to come, he’ll have to pay more attention to Mommy.

2:50 - Nana and Pappy arrive for a vist

3:05 - adjusted the epidural (it was only taking to one side)

3:23 - anterior lip - don’t know what that means, but they called Dr. Delivery to tell her

3:33 - started pushing

3:40 - paused pushing

3:50 - while waiting for dr., the nurses swap stories about the weird deliveries they’ve assisted with

4:10 - still waiting. the nurses say that Ladybug is moving down on her own which will keep mommy from pushing so hard.

4:30 - dr arrives

4:52 - delivery! 7 lb 15.7 oz. 19.25 long 13.5 head 13.5 chest

5:10 - tried a little snack!

6:15 - moved into our room (346) and mommy got to eat supper (corn, salsbury steak, mashed potatoes, roll, jello, and sprite)

My company usually hires engineering interns each the summer.  We provide them with some real-world experience, a little money, and a nice bullet point on their resumes.  In return, they give us cheap labor, quick work, and, on occasion, enough information to know that they are worth hiring.

So, it’s that time of year when the students start sending their resumes.  For some reason, I decided to do a little sleuthing this year.  I simply type the name into Facebook and see what comes up.  (I’ve used this same research method on full-time positions, too.) Oh what fun!

Student #1

I have actually met student #1.  He has been in a couple of my graduate school classes.  I have had enough interaction with him to be amazed at how telling his profile picture is, not to mention the remainder of gems hidden in his profile page.  Lets take a look:

So, let’s look at the picture and see what it tells us.  He’s a small portion of the photograph and is not the focal point of the camera.  The picture is taken with just him by himself in a large room.  Note the pose.  It’s a telling sign of his level of self-comfort.  A bit awkward of a stance, wouldn’t you say?  He’s posted this picture as his profile picture.  The one photo to show the world who he is, he ensures that he is not the center of attention.  The shot is framed like he is standing in front of some type of important landscape, but the background has nothing remarkable in it.  By posting this picture, he’s trying to become lost in the noise.

Here’s the amazing thing, his Facebook network groups (and my interactions with him) indicate the same type of behavior.  Most notably is the desire to be associated with any group that will accept him.  A number of his FB groups are college groups for different races, specifically in different college disciplines  (for instance, one is a group for black law students).  The race grouping on its own isn’t remarkable, but coupled with the fact that they are completely different disciplines makes them telling.  It’s almost as if he’s so uncomfortable with who he is, he feels the need to identify with anything that is not him.

At any rate, I knew of this guy well enough to be amazed at how telling his profile was.  So, I went out and looked at one of the students that I have never met.  Let’s see what we can get from this guy.

Student #2

Since we can derive some good information from someone that we know.  Let’s try with a student that we don’t know…

So, let’s start with the obvious.  He’s not the brightest person out there because he is applying for jobs with this set as his profile picture and his profile open to the public.  But shall we did deeper?

The attempt of the photo is to say “look at me, I like to party.”  What it really says is “I’m trying to be cool, but I’m not.”  Here’s how we know.  First, the girls are dancing on a stage, oblivious to this guy’s presence.  He’s not even right up by stage getting his picture made.  There is a layer of people between him and the intended focus.  It says “hey, I’m close enough to look cool. Snap the picture.” Next, that pale white skin indicates that he hasn’t been partying shirtless for long or very often.  There’s nothing wrong with not partying, but this picture is obviously a special occasion rather than a common occurrence.  Next, we look at the can in his hand.  It’s a Coke Zero.  That’s right, the boy knows how to get his drank on!  Spring break and he’s going to get some CAFFEINE!  WOOOO!

Some of the other pictures in his grouping indicate that he likes to be thought of as “the man.”  There are numerous photos from his high school days where he has his shirt off and his arms around some girls.  (Looks like after a track meet or something.)  My rule of thumb has always been “If ya ain’t got not muscles, keep your shirt on.”  This rule has kept me happily covered for more than 20 years.

Real Life Application

So now that we’re well practiced on the art of Facebook Psychology, what does this guy’s page say?

Sometimes, one post isn’t enough to clear my brain.  Mind if I ramble on a bit more?  No?  Thanks, I knew you’d listen.  After all, I am a shallow thinker, so it takes me a bit longer to figure things out.

While I am a slow learner, I do understand that pain and heartaches are nothing new.  Sometimes we just notice it more than other times.  But all around, people are constantly looking to find the calm in the midst of their storms.  The most typical response that I have seen is that we just grow calloused to the sadness around us and we trudge on with our lives.

Mr. Jones lost his wife. She was always so sweet to me.  I have a meeting in an hour.

The Robinsons are getting a divorce.  I hate it for their kids.  I wonder what we’ll do for supper tonight.

Jennifer seems really upset about something.  I hope someone talks with her.  Ah, I’m already running behind.

Cold and callous?  Sure, but it’s the way we run.  After all, we don’t have the time to sit and listen to every little detail of all these peoples’ lives.  And heck, even if we did, wouldn’t it be depressing to have to struggle through these things with every single person that was having a bad day?

The only true response that I have seen work is love.  Compassion.  It’s the kind of compassion that has you just sit in silence while someone cries on your shoulder.  The love that sends you out in the wee hours of the morning after someone has made a mistake.  Again.  It’s the deep friendship where two people embrace during an emotional storm and they both know that they have a companion through the trials.

As much as the politicians try, government can’t comfort all who are weary.  As much as the congregations gather, the church isn’t comforting those who are heavy-hearted.  There are many who still struggle and long to find some rest.

I don’t even pretend to think that there is anything that I could do to solve the global needs for comfort, compassion, peace, or love.  This void existed before I arrived and will continue long after I am gone.  However, I am reminded of a quote from a guy that loved the teachings of Jesus, but didn’t care much for the actions of his modern-day followers.  “Be the change you want to see in the world.”  The solution that I long to see in my world can only come from one place.  Me.

But how?