Monday, October 31, 2005

Have iPod, Will Travel MARTA

I love my iPod! Thanks to my former employer’s stock bonus program, I was able to purchase an iPod mini with the options I had to exercise within four months of resignation. For those of you that know how much one of these pocket-sized contraptions costs, you’ll be able to figure out that I did not make very much money on those stock options!

At first I liked the iPod because I could tune out everyone and everything as I was using MARTA. As they say, "It's SMARTA". No more listening to other people’s phone calls and no more listening to the psychotic sock salesman talk to himself. Oh, and for some reason, the outstretched hand attached to “The Watchtower” never reaches toward me when I’m wearing my bright white headphones? If anyone knows why that is, please let me know.

Beyond MARTA though is the glorious time at my desk. I can listen to music while I work and can block out the Musak blaring from the overhead speaker. I once enjoyed many of the songs that I now hear, usually twice, every single day of the week on that overhead speaker. Songs that in the past had wonderful memories for me are now fading away into never never land. Like “That Old Devil Moon” that reminds me of going to see my brother in the play “Finian’s Rainbow”. Or “Unchained Melody” that reminds me of my sister’s wedding. Perhaps when I hear the non-Musak versions of these songs, I’ll snap out of it. Oh wait, I’m supposed to be practicing mindfulness and not allow these things to annoy me.

But the best part of the iPod is that you can either copy your own CD’s or you can download songs from iTunes. Yes, the songs cost $.99 cents each but you can copy just the songs you want vs. having to purchase an entire CD. On my iPod mini, I can shuffle randomly through almost 1000 songs or I can set up play lists of favorites. So if I just feel like listening to jazz today, it’s as simple as setting up a grouping of all of my favorite jazz artists. Stay tuned for my next blog entry to hear more about my favorites and why they get that status…

Thursday, October 27, 2005

The Informationless Age

When I decided to leave corporate America for my dream job at SSA, part of the attraction was that I would once again be an individual contributor (a.k.a. peon). No longer would I be responsible for the work, or lack thereof, of others. No more supervision, no more escalated customer no-service complaints, and no more wearing out the carpet between my cubicle and human resources.

What I wasn’t expecting, but with which I am extremely happy, is the lack of telephone and e-mail interaction in my new job. The phones were apparently down yesterday for well over three hours and I wasn’t even aware of it. The one e-mail I received yesterday was to inform me that phone service had been restored.

I kid you not; I have gone days without a single phone call. I could go weeks if it weren’t for an occasional check-in call from Doc. B. I have to look up my phone password just to retrieve that rare voicemail message. At my previous jobs, the phone rang off the hook. And the e-mail was even worse. I think there was a subconscious competition between the leadership staff members to see who could respond to e-mails the fastest.

The office here is also less frenzied and less noisy. Yes, people talk on occasion but for the most part, all I hear is the movement of my own fingers on the computer keyboard and some really bad Muzak in the overhead speakers. This type of music is supposedly regarded as unobtrusive and bland (see Webster’s dictionary). I certainly find it bland but it is by no means unobtrusive when the same songs are played over and over again. I’ll discuss this in more depth when I complete my next web log entry – I know, you can’t wait and are holding your breath.

I have two former co-workers who say they would love to work with me at SSA. I think they see that I’m much more relaxed, a few pounds lighter and generally less stressed (which, by the way, is desserts spelled backwards). But I’ve told them there is no way they would survive here – it would be too subdued for them and their socializing natures. Or perhaps I’m just being selfish – I don’t want anything to ruin my peace and quiet.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Biloxi Mailbox...
















I couldn’t resist asking permission to use this photo on my web log. It comes courtesy of Kathy, Doc. B.’s CFO at work. Kathy thinks the picture may have been taken by the insurance company as this mailbox is all that stands on her family’s property in Biloxi – thanks to hurricane Katrina. Where once stood a fantastic vacation home, right on the water, all that remains is a “blue” mailbox.

And speaking of hurricanes, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have the same name as a hurricane? I’ll have to see if Doc. B. will allow me to formally interview her for an official blog posting. And then I’ll have to check in with our neighbor, Rita, to get her take on it. I don’t know anyone named Wilma – does anyone really? Before hurricane Katrina hit, we were in Michigan for a late summer vacation. Doc. B. returned to work the day before the storm only to find her office door boarded up with plywood and her office windows criss-crossed with masking tape. We all laughed out loud at the creativity displayed by her co-workers! Little did any of us know what was to lie ahead for those in the path of hurricane Katrina, or any of the subsequent storms for that matter.

It will certainly be a year to remember. I’m just wondering what the memories will hold for those who were emotionally or physically harmed by the events of these past months? Hopefully they will be able to muster the strength to hold themselves together…

Friday, October 21, 2005

Knowing When to Stop...

From the title of this posting, you might think I'm talking about booze, drugs, or chocolate chip cookies. But no, it's something worse - paint scraping. I know my family will relate to this and perhaps others who have taken on this task rather than doing the smart thing and hiring someone to do it. But me, being my dad's daughter, chose to do this job myself. Seems like I've been scraping paint or wallpaper since I could climb a ladder, so why stop now?

Anyway, the front pillars of our house get the full morning sun and after two years, the paint had begun to blister. This was a clear sign that I needed to break out all of those crazy-shaped tools that you need if you are going to remove all of the loose paint. I started the project last Sunday and have spent most days after work out there. It was calling to me so loudly yesterday (or was it the 85 degree breezy weather that was calling me?), that I left work 2 hours early just to get started again. The problem now is knowing when to stop. I could really say that I'm done now but what if there is one paint chip that I missed? I could be out there scraping through the entire fall season - so here's the plan (this is more for Doc. B.'s benefit since she is probably sick of the paint chip piles all over the porch). The next nice afternoon/day I'll spend it scraping any of the the remaining bits of paint. When the sun goes down or the rain shows up - that's it. Then I'll do the same with the orbital sander - just one nice day to feather all of the scraped areas. Slap some primer on there, caulk, paint with our Sherwin Williams "Roycroft Vellum" and be done with it!

One last thing. Funny how working on your home in the broad daylight can bring out all the experts. I've had one guy tell me that the paint's peeling because "they didn't prime first". Yes, "they" primed first and did a great job of preparing the 1920's wood for the new coat of paint. My neighbor, a painter himself, vouched for me to the critic. He said "hey man, it just gets a lot of sun there." And another neighbor's mother said "you're having to work on the house already?". Yes, we'll be working on this house for as long as we live here - that's why I like old homes - thanks alot Dad :)

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

The End of the Physical Year...

During the past 8 years in the private sector, I heard phrases such as “year end” or “quarterly report”. So last week I was pleasantly amused to be back in “fiscal year”-land where the mispronunciation, and the title of this entry, put a smile on my face. That smile though is a new thing for me. Misused and mispronounced words used to drive me up a wall; it was worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. Now, however, I’m trying to be more mindful and not take up brain space with annoyances whenever possible. This does not provide George with a free pass – for some reason, the way he says nuclear, among other words (and actions, like that smirk or the way he walks), will simply always make me cringe.

Now let me begin by saying that I know I’m not perfect when it comes to grammar and word use. There are still words that get me every time so I just don’t use them. That being said, I hope you’ll indulge me while I get just a few of the more common irritants off of my chest once and for all. This can be somewhat of a “letting go” process for me. And perhaps you have some that you’d like to add? Feel free to comment!
  • Axe instead of ask
  • Pacific vs. specific
  • Erf or berf for earth and birth
  • Gambit instead of gamut as in "the whole gambit"
  • Verb-subject agreement issues like the sign on a co-worker's wall that reads "fried food and sugar is the devil"


Being critical like this apparently begins early as witnessed on MARTA a couple of weeks ago. There were two sixth graders from Woodward Academy on the very first train car with me. I usually ride up front as I tend to get “car sick”. Plus, I can watch the MARTA train operator ignore the “no food or drink” signs that are posted every two feet as he drinks his soda fountain beverage, eats his chicken wings, and throws the bones out of the window (okay, the bones out the window only happened once). For those of you who have been in the first car on a MARTA train, you may know that the door between the operator and the passengers is a flimsy piece of metal with gaps all around it that are not sealed. Thus one can also hear the operator chatting on his/her cell phone every now and again. Anyway, we were coming up on the Martin Luther King Memorial station and the operator announced over the intercom “next stop, King Memoria”. The sixth grade girl said to her friend “did she just say ‘Memoria’?” And her friend said “yes, I think she forgot the ‘L’.” Later these two youngsters went on to discuss whether or not the train operator got paid a lot of money because no one else wanted to do that job. Once again, I think that’s a story for another day….

Friday, October 07, 2005

Happy Anniversary Doc. B.!


Photo Courtesy of: Marla Collum, Naubinway, MI

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Mindfulness...

Photo of Thich Nhat Hanh: Courtesy of Plum Village Practice Center, France

IAMHOME

Doc. B. talked me into attending a three hour seminar on “mindfulness” this past Sunday. Let me be honest; I really did have an interest in being present (pun intended), but it sounds better to say my arm was twisted right out of the socket. I’m glad that I went. To stay in keeping with one of my Blog purposes, a synchronicity occurred. The seminar facilitator read a poem by Rumi. Keep in mind that I had never heard of Rumi before Doc. B. suggested we give that name to our new cat. I’ll include the specific poem at the end of this posting.

More than the synchronicity though was the content covered during the three hours. For those of you that know me well, you may be aware of my tendency toward worrying. My mind continually “rumi"nates on what has already happened, what might happen, what I should have done and what I should do. I’m guessing that any techniques I can learn to quiet my worries can only make me feel more peaceful. During the seminar, I did acknowledge that letting go of the way my mind has operated since I was very young could be a challenge. Also, why would I want to let go of something that has gotten me this far along in my life? I guess that gets into another item on my long list of psychological issues – control. That could be a long entry in this blog – I’ll spare you that (for now).

I was “worried” that in order to become more mindful, I’d have to meditate. In this attention deficit disorder world, I couldn’t imagine how I could make room for meditation in my life. Now, medication, I could make room for. I’m kidding of course, though the thought has crossed my mind on many occasions. What I found pleasantly surprising is that being mindful is not all about meditation per se. Yes, it’s a large part of it, but it’s not all of it. Think about just simply being more aware of what is going on around you or within you, acknowledging it for what it is and moving on to the next moment or thought. Am I eating and actually tasting each bite of food or am I inhaling it like a tub of popcorn at the over-priced movie theatre? Am I listening to all of the sounds around me or am I only being annoyed by the thumping bass of the music in the car that just drove by while I was trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon on the front porch? Can I learn to welcome it all in - the good, the bad and the somewhere in between? It’s worth a shot.

“The Guest House” by Rumi

This being human is a guesthouse.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight . . .

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.