Waiting Casually

As I’ve stared out at the snow coming down outside my window, I’ve reflected on how Midwesterners benefit from the clear delineation between the seasons out here. The weather is the biggest factor to be sure and gets compounded by what foods and activities become available depending on the weather.

For example, when Fall rolls around, not only do you have the leaves on the trees changing colors and falling in swirls to the ground, but the local foods you see in the stores change to feature more apples, brussels sprouts, and squash, etc. Once you start feeling that crispness in the air, you know you’ll be heading to a newly re-opened cider mill for your cider and doughnuts. Perhaps a hay ride at a pumpkin farm.

As the crispness in the air turns to a true chill and the snow starts really piling up, it’s time to grab your sled and find some good hills.

Similar changes happen in the Spring and Summer (you haven’t seen a happy person until you’ve seen a Midwesterner on the first sunny, fifty degree-plus day of the year). Different foods and different activities. There’s even a beer that only comes out in the Summer months from a local brewer.

And as I was thinking about all of this, I realized that I didn’t have any of those signals when I lived in the Bay Area in California. Or if I did they were much weaker and I really had to look for them. Yes, in Winter we had dungeness crab and other occasional signals, but by and large, our days were temperate and therefore fairly interchangeable. A day at the beach in the summer wasn’t too unlike going to the beach in the winter.

How does that affect a person?

Could the clear delineations between seasons and therefore years in the Midwest contribute to a deeper connection to one’s age? I know that I can more easily detail my age progression of the past three years than that of the years I spent in the Bay Area. Those earlier years just seem to blend all together, but when I think about what I did or how I was in Spring of 2008, I can make that connection fairly easily.

Maybe this explains why the Midwesterners I know (a couple hundred including my coworkers) generally act their age more than the people I know back in California. They seem to act with more responsibility. With more foresight. Is that a product of living in a location that demands real planning for how to handle the various challenges each season brings? Do changing seasons create an increased temporal cognizance?

What about the opposite end? Does the perennial Spring/Summer of the Bay Area’s weather contribute to those stereotypical spritely Californians who continue to rollerblade at the age of 70? Because they don’t have to consider the passing of time in a concrete way, are they less able to see their own progression and therefore do things that an outsider would raise his eyebrows at?

I’ll grant you that there are complicating factors involved. Hell, Steinbeck even wrote about the weirdness of folks who came to the California coast 65 years ago. And the weirdos kept coming. For a time.

But still, you can’t just write these differences off to one group being sensible and one group being weird, right? Our environment affects us as well.

Just re-read my last entry and have a newfound appreciation for it. In particular, the pun I included unintentionally in the last sentence. Go me.

Also, I may yet write again. We’ll see.

Here’s a story with a moral in it somewhere, but it’s Monday, I’m drowsy, and I’m typing this at work, so that should tell you something.

Anyway, this is a story about butt dust. Or toilet ash. Or something. Anyway, my company has occupied its current building for a little over two years now, so needless to say I’ve had some opportunities to use the facilities here a few times. And in the use of said facilities, I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon that had me puzzled until just a few moments ago.

On one particular toilet, I’ve occasionally noticed what appear to be little dust or ash motes on the seat. Not a lot. Just a few. Each little mote about the size of a pin head and there might be 10-15 of these little guys on the seat (I call them guys because they are in the men’s bathroom after all). When I first saw them I didn’t know what to make of them. I mean, what is one to think upon seeing this on the seat? I just got some toilet paper and wiped them off before I used the toilet.

I wish I remember what I thought the second time though. Like, ‘Whoah. That wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Some dude’s butt is chronically dusty enough to deposit yet more dust/ash/whatever on this seat,’ probably isn’t too far off. That’s a disturbing thought, too. On a scale of 1-10 of disturbance, the first time was probably a 1. Like, ‘Hrm.’ The second though probably skipped right on up to level 4: ‘Ew, gross. C’mon.’

And that’s what I thought. Someone with dusty butt worked in my office. That was the only explanation right? It wasn’t always there, obviously because Mr. Ashy Butt and I weren’t on the same schedule or someone had used the toilet and wiped it off before I used the toilet or he didn’t go at work that day. Of course. What else could it be?

And so over the past two years, I probably encountered the butt dust a dozen or so times, with my disturbance level waxing and waning depending on the frequency with which I saw it or my mood of the day. And my reality was that there was a gentlemen coworker on my floor with serious hygiene issues.

Until today.

Today my reality changed.

As I said at the start, I haven’t been in the best mood today, and so that’s likely why when greeted by butt dust again on the seat of the toilet I was going to use, my disturbance level peaked and I threw back my head and uttered an ‘Oh god,’ at the ceiling, my eyes rolling upward.

To the air conditioning vent.

With a dusty grille.

Right above the toilet.

‘Oh,’ I said.

And so on this day, June 8th, 2009, the mystery of Mr. Dusty Butt was solved. Mark your calendars.

What’s the moral? You tell me. There’s more than enough there for a changing perspectives one, or a not making assumptions one, or whatever.

Ran the Dexter-Ann Arbor 5k this morning. This is the first time I’ve done an organized run thing and only the second time I’ve run outside since I started running on the treadmill a few months ago. This might not seem like a big deal, but being the introvert I am, this challenged me in a number of ways.

First, I’m a homebody, so just leaving the house requires more consideration from me than it does normal folks.

Second, I don’t like large crowds of people. Did I mention that nearly 2,000 people were running the 5k? Oh, and 2,500 signed up for the half-marathon. There was a 10k too. Add another 2,000. Needless to say the registration area was a bit chaotic.

Third, I don’t like running in public. It’s a personality quirk, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is watching me and I get really self-conscious. I know I’m not alone in this, but I’ll share an anecdote that demonstrates what it’s like.

At work, the management team participated in a DiSC assessment (think Myers-Briggs only a bit fluffier) as part of the management curriculum and for an illustrative exercise, the proctor asked the different personality groups how they would go about playing a round of golf at a golf course.

The ‘D’s’ responded that they would potentially hire a pro first, but only so they could head out and try to beat the other golfers in their foursome.

The ‘I’s’ said they’d just head for the course and try to make some aquaintances in the process.

The ‘S’s’ answered that they would only want to go with their current friends and would just want to have fun.

When it came to my group, the ‘C’s’ to respond, our group was a bit reluctant. Maybe reluctant isn’t the best word though. More likely, we looked like we all had a bad taste in our mouth. This didn’t sound fun at all for us. I hate those silences though so I took a stab.

“Well, I think first I’d buy a set of clubs. Not the nicest, but in the upper half of the range. Of course, I’d have to research the clubs first to determine which would be the best based on that criteria. Then I’d probably buy a DVD or watch some other instructional videos on the web. Once I felt I could head out without feeling too silly, then I’d hire a golf pro who could help me along. Only once I felt like I was a respectable golfer would I actually head to the course to golf.”

The others in my group were nodding enthusiastically the whole time as if what I was saying was an extreme comfort to them. The rest of the room looked at us like we were crazy.

Welcome to our world, bitches. It’s like this for us all. The. Time. We don’t like to make rushed decisions and we don’t like looking foolish unless it’s on purpose.

Back to the run.

I ran faster than I normally do, but not faster than I’ve ever gone before or anything. There were lots of hills and I only run on flat with the treadmill, so I’m especially proud of my 27:something 27:09 time. The official clock had me at 27:40 27:47, but I didn’t cross the start line for a few seconds as the crowd got moving (I was toward the back), so I would peg me at around 27:25 or so. I’ll update with the final time once it’s posted. UPDATE: I went faster than I thought! Go me! I finished 39th out of 73 in the men’s 25-29 group, and beat the average of  27:58, so I’m happy.

A few random observations from a 5k virgin:

• You see a lot of pressed fruit bowls and camel toe what with the outfits. 7:50 am is way to goddamn early for that.
• There must be a less logistically complicated way to organize these things. For example, why can’t I print my runner’s number at home? Also, why just have a big group as opposed to staggering the group by expected completion time?
• Most disheartening part? Seeing 11-year-olds absolutely blow past you in mile two as you keep chugging along. Made me want to trip them.
• Most heartening part? It may be cheesy, but groups of folks along the side of the course cheering you on. I know I sped up a little each time I passed one, and at the final stretch I ran flat out. The crowd helped there for sure.

I don’t know if I’ll run another one. Maybe. It is a lot of fuss just to do something that I can accomplish on my home treadmill, but overall I think I had a good time. If I do I’ll try to work up to a 10k or something. That’s how youg get hooked though, right? Really, once you’re at 10k, you should try to push for a half-marathon… Then once you’re there you should try for a full one.

I turn 30 next year. Maybe I’ll shoot for a half by then. We’ll see.

Sir,

It’s been my pleasure to work with you for the past four years. I’ve found you to be honest and well-meaning, committed to helping your various teams improve, and tenacious in your assessment of peoples’ work. You were never overly-harsh, but your astute observations kept those who worked for you honest about their progress and accomplishments. This created an atmosphere of integrity that I valued a great deal.

This integrity point was likely the first characteristic I noticed about you. I was quite low on the totem pole when I first worked with you in the fall of 2005 and you were new to the company so perhaps I thought that was why you treated even me with respect, but you proved consistent in that regard through the years I’ve now known you. I’m not the only one who feels this way. It’s safe to say that there are many of us here in the office who would follow you into the breach because of how you’ve inspired us with your honest and measured leadership. The Mrs. and I followed you across the country to work with you in the new office, so maybe I’m just biased.

The past three years working closely with you have taught me how to be a better leader as I took many of my cues from you. Not to say that you’re perfect or that we never disagreed or that your choices never disappointed me, but we both learned from our mistakes and you encouraged that process. I feel like my considertaion of organizational or functional changes is much more measured and less dismissive than it was previously. I’m a big ‘J’ in Myers-Briggs speak and a high D/C in my DiSC profile, so my default tendencies are to make snap decisions and operate more or less unwaveringly along the lines of those decisions. You taught me to reserve judgment until I actually needed to make one and to ask direct questions as a way to encourage well-rounded ideas. Thank you for that.

You will be missed a great deal. Probably more than you think even. You are the face of this office for all of the employees here, whose names you know by heart, for their families, and for the larger community. You’ve pioneered community outreach at this company and taught the higher-ups about its importance. You’ve been a mentor to me and to many others.

So. Although I am personally saddened that you are leaving and I’m worried about how the leadership team here will evolve without you, I’m also trying my best to be excited for you. I know it’s a great opportunity for you to grow your career and your talents. They’re lucky to have you and we are losing one of our best. I hope to contribute in some small way to filling the very large gap you will leave behind.

The very best of luck,

Me

Went running today for the first time in two weeks as I was sick and then traveling. Ugh. Nothing like feeling your fat jiggle all around as you run to keep you on the wagon!

So I recently bought a record player and the other components necessary to use said record player. I got it hooked up last night and I thought I’d share my thoughts on it so far. In no particular order:

• it sounds wonderful. Most of the music I listen to is of the MP3 variety on my iPod with the default headphones or my iMac’s built-in speakers, so maybe it’s more of a product of finally hearing things through good speakers than records themselves, but either way I am pleased. Seriously. The best article I’ve read describing how reviewers attempt to qualify how good a speaker/receiver/whatever sounds said that what they’re listening for is something that sounds like life. If it doesn’t sounds like what all of that music would sounds like if the musician was right there, then it’s not perfect. The setup I have now doesn’t sounds like life, but it sounds really fucking nice.
• filing through all the old records my dad sent me (his entire collection!) brings back a lot of fun memories
• no wonder CD players took off. It’s tough to set up a record player. First you have to attach the cartridge to the headshell by connecting four wires and then screwing it together (and possibly adding a weight to it all–I did), then you have to mount the headshell to the arm, then balance the arm to a neutral weight, then adjust it to the recommended pressure, then adjust the skate… It’s complicated! I’m just glad that the cartridge will theoretically last for 15 years so I won’t have to do that again for a while
• it’s cool that records sold now include codes you can use on the web to download the MP3 album for portability
• I’m such a consumer whore
• I wonder if I’ll turn into a stoner or something now that I have all these Neil Young, Santana, Hendrix, and Doors LPs
• I also wonder where the ‘red line’ will be on that volume knob. The Mrs. has already asked me once ‘It’s kinda loud, isn’t it?’ We’ll see.

The first record I put on the platter by the way? Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes.

Do you ever feel… not so fresh? About the future of men I mean. What were you thinking? Really? Oh.

When I say ‘men,’ I really do mean men by the way. The Y chromosome types. Well, but that hits right at what I’m getting at doesn’t it? I had this big exposition planned and everything, but I seem to have written something that skips all of it and now I can’t go back. Anyhoooo… It’s hard to look at the male youths of today and wonder a bit about that Y chromosome business. They all seem like such namby-pambies.

I’m not the only one who’s noticed this apparently, as a recent trend I’ve noted in male-focused lidderchur is the rumination on the fate of the manly man and the lament of the rise of the douchebag. And hey, it’s right up my alley. Because I found the rise of the douchebag funny at first! I saw shit like this and laughed heartily. But then I saw more and more douchebaggery (TM fucking pending on that nugget of awesome) out there and I wasn’t laughing so much any more. Men wearing skinny jeans with thin, white, women’s belts, or wearing plunging American Apparel v-necks, or over-tanning, or doing all of the above no longer warranted ostracism from any group, but instead garnerred compliments! What madness was this?

So we semi- and legitimately old guys started wondering what this all meant for men. Some wistfully yearned  for a return to manlier, tough son-of-a-bitch times, while others tried to etch their guidelines for future generations in stone. Or at least HTML. Me, I’d just be satisfied if I thought anyone under the age of 23 looked like they could beat me up in a fight. And I consider myself a wuss! But these guys? Even the ones who are all toned and buff look like little prisses. it’s like they spent all that time in the gym just so they’ll look good in their Zoolander poses. I’ve never been in a fight in my life but I think I could take ‘em.

But why are we so concerned with the douchebag generation? And maybe a better question: does our concern and desire to put an end to their effeminate ways only contribute to their continuance, part of the normal ebb and flow of themes repeated as children rebel against their parents? What will the next generation look like with this much focus on them, or is this the same amount of attention every past generation puts on the next? Is there hope to convince our young men of their ridiculousness or should we give up and go back to chuckling at them privately?

Not skinny jeans should ever be a laughing matter.

Referring of course to the spammers who over the past week have hit my Akismet filter with over three dozen comments. This, after going a few weeks with nothing. Oh well. At least Akismet is doing its job.

Run for it, Marty!

So I’ve wanted to talk about this since I started but didn’t want to jinx myself. Now that I’m over 80% of the way to my goal though, I think it’s safe.

At the start of the year I set the goal that by the end of March I had to run 100 miles. That might not seem like a lot (run a little over a mile a day…), but that would be underestimating the power of my laziness. I’d challenge you to a laziness match, but really, that seems like a lot of effort and it would detract from me molding my couch cushion in the shape of my ass. Also, I failed at this goal twice already last year, so I knew that I’d really have to want it this time.

The good news is that I just passed 80 miles over the weekend! I probably only need to run six more times to meet my goal by March 31. Of course, I’d like to pass that mark by as much as possible, so hopefully I don’t puss out and run more than that in the next two weeks.

The ultimate goal of course is to get rid of my spare tire. If I met this goal I would up the goal to 120 miles in Q2 and so on until… until… I was healthy! So I’m also trying to eat better too and that’s going well. The eating. It’s the drinking I seem to have a problem with. And I’m not talking about soda.

As I’ve already established that I have no will power, I think the only option I have available is to rid the house of all temptation. But that’s a problem though, because I’m also not a big fan of waste and so want to make sure what beer we have in the fridge isn’t wasted… Bad problem to have, I know.

Anyway, wish me luck on the final stretch. What are your current goals?