Hard Spot

Dear J-

As much time as I spend at work you’d think I’d start to get something done, but the truth is I end up getting sucked into meeting after meeting and the paralysis of groupthink starts to set in: well, what if they don’t like the way this is phrased? theVet is driven bonkers by my need to parse words to their final meaning when I’m at home, but it’s all I do at work — write, edit, parse — that it inevitably spills over into the rest of my life. For instance, when we went to buy a new mattress a couple of weeks ago, she insisted on calling it a bed, which sounds like we’re getting a frame and boxspring too; by the time I was done with parsing the difference between mattress and bed, she was ready to tear my hair out.

I suppose that’s the crux of the problem lately; the way that I can no longer keep things neatly compartmentalized between work and home, separated as they are by the long buffer of distance and commute time. I get email at home now, and email prompts me to write a few words or draft a response or … but then again, I often choose to ignore it and set my planes in motion on Pocket Planes instead while at home, hoping to get some kind of a refuge from that time at work, time at work, ticking away like a metronome in my head. Our boss has said that he wants us to wake up at night worried about the issues we have happening, and that much is true, but the worries I have are less technical and more managerial.

Deadlines, when they told us to take the time we need to make sure things are correct. Schedule dates. Legal aspects. Word choices, phrasing, careful summarization to show what you know and only what you know, not implying that you’ve got a speculative bone in your body. I suppose the enforced discipline is good for me, as I would otherwise write what I want off the top of my head with little concern to whether I’m right or not. Because, y’know, I’m always right. Does that even make sense? There is a lot left to do, and no time left to do it wrong, which means that time has become the most limitingly precious commodity once again. Such is the wonder of the world.

Mike

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Inaction Man

Dear J-

Head up. Feet shoulder width apart. Eye on the ball. You’re going to get rotation through the waist, that’s where the power comes from. Ready? Good. Here we go.

When I think about our relative athletic ability I can see our kids doomed to a life of being picked last for teams, but I’m convinced that much of that is down to a question of practice and muscle memory, and the sooner we get them involved in actual physical activities (structured) then the better off they’re going to be and the more confidence they’ll feel. That sort of stuff is a self-fulfilling cycle; the more you do, the better you get, and the better you are, the more you enjoy it, and the more you want to do. Now I just need to summon the motivation to do just that.

Lord knows that I’m the laziest person on earth, though, and that’s going to be hard to overcome: the inert body at rest tending to remain at rest. The other night theVet went off for a dinner presentation by a potential vendor, and came back to find me furiously brushing away at figgy’s teeth, trying to make up for time lost playing video games together; I admit there have been instances where I’m even too lazy to get up and play games on the TV, which is not that much effort: find batteries, make sure the remotes are charged, switch the input on the TV …

Something I learned in June beyond the regular operation cycle and teardown of a Carrier 19FA chiller was a phrase that Dwight said and which started to resonate in my head: what a privilege it is to sweat. Here’s a guy who’s spent his whole life running or biking or swimming and coming off back and shoulder surgery, is itchy to get back on the bike — and in North Carolina heat, no less — while I barely have the motivation to tear myself away from the screen long enough to find a park and drive over there to stroll around. True, too, the guys from North Anna were inspiring, going jogging every evening and bringing bikes along too; this life is what you make of it, and letting opportunities go doesn’t make much sense, does it? What a privilege.

Mike

Imperceptible Evolution

Dear J-

In the month since the equinox the days have grown imperceptibly shorter; the main difference I’ve noticed is the sun doesn’t rise with the same alacrity as it did in the early part of the month. The twilit evenings stlll linger on and on in a perfect echo of the day, though, prompting figgy to ask that she not have to go to bed, as there’s still daylight outside. The thought echoes through generations back to my own childhood, asking restlessly and peeking through the curtains on a late glowing summer in Cheney, pressing against cool walls and iron rails in an effort to drive out the heat.

I remember that we used to swim every night in the neighbor’s pool, their children long since grown and moved out. I remember the feel of the pebbled concrete beneath our feet and the various inscects we’d find trapped beneath cover and water; I remember my parents reveling in the unexpected luxury of worn-out kids, telling us that we slept better with some chlorine in our hair, me dreaming all the while of that floating feeling, buoyancy supporting every inch by inch closer to the surface.

Mostly though I remember summers as a time when my parents always had more than enough time when we asked: can we? Yes. We can. We will. We did. It feels strange to have the same sort of interactions with our kids, as Calcifer plunges towards two and I can’t see how the terror could be any more, as he’s already found ways to torment his sister, who’s little more than an unchained ball of emotions at the moment. How do you make time for that? Moment by moment, taking out one distraction after another until all that’s left are you and these two little humans you have to lead by example and patience; would that I could translate the words to deeds so easily.

Mike

Time Thief

Dear J-

One of the things that I always forget is that if I’m having trouble with it, chances are that someone else has struggled with it too and there’s an answer somewhere on the internet. For instance, I put a new wi-fi card into my eBay laptop and promptly got the Thinkpad 1802 error (unauthorized card, I will go no further). It’s not borne out of me being overly cheap and stingy (okay, I didn’t read all the fine print about the card when I saw it on eBay for a good price) but nevertheless, the problem has been well-documented to the point where you can actually burn your own live CD and patch your BIOS to remove that check.

So long live problem solving and operating experience; I probably made a mistake in not verifying the part number on the card, but it’s easily fixable and I’m looking forward to (sooner or later) being able to fiddle with the computer more in order to get it running. All the little parts tend to add up, so you’re better off sourcing a more complete machine when you can, though, especially if you plan on taking it on a trip soon. The more I fiddle with it the better I understand the credo that you need to be able to build it to say you own it. I know, it’s a stupid pride thing, but that’s where I am.

Lately I’ve ended each day past midnight; there’s just not enough time it seems, between getting the kids off to bed and doing a little light browsing on my own. Throw in a project machine and there’s little point in even trying to sleep, right? I’ll have to stop a lot of the browsing, though, as it’s just mostly idle window shopping until I find something that’s such a good deal I’d kick myself for passing it up so I don’t, of course. Fun to window shop; nice when packages arrive in the mail, but all I’m doing is taking time away from us and them.

Mike

Compound Interest Time Value of Money

Dear J-

If I overslept at all this morning it was out of a sense of obligation to the alarm clock: surely it can’t be that time already, i’ll check back in ten minutes and see if I like the answer any better. The strange thing is that after a week and a half of relative sloth I can’t say that the short ration of sleep has really kicked in yet. Just you wait until the end of the week, I promise myself. Is it worth trying to keep up three different blogs as well as my usual consumption of neat stuff on the internet via Google Reader? I have my doubts at the best of times; seeing as how I still didn’t have time to catch all the way up given a whole week off I’m not sure I can sustain this pace.

When you study strength of materials you learn about something called von Mises theory, which states in essence that material’s failure depends on both the axial and shear loads placed on it. In other words, it’s not enough to evaluate the stresses in each axis separately. There’s always going to be demands on my time at work and at home, and it all depends on how much time you’re willing to set aside for yourself. Call it selfish time, call it decompression time, the end result is that you end up taking time away from either work or family. How does that combine? Do you take too much away in one area and leave yourself vulnerable?

At this point, down to one income, we’re finding ways to scrimp and save where we can when we can so we end up taking advantage of free activities (hey, free craft at this store!) and entertainment (the beach, holiday lights) where we can. Yesterday, for instance, we went to see two decorated houses; from the time we pulled out to the time we pulled back in was exactly one hour and it feels penurious to say it, but that too is an investment of sorts. You invest time with these kids to make sure that they’re entertained and it takes a lot out of you. You need the down time to recharge but time spent now is an investment in your relationship to come and I’m planning on using that compound interest someday for their benefit.

Mike

Some Magic Morning

Dear J-

There’s a funny thing about work: when your’e transitioning and the new job seems so far away there’ll be a day you realize that the time you have left isn’t as much as you thought. Even if it seems a bit excessive to have me wait around for four months instead of the typical two weeks I’ve always regarded December as some far-off, mythical date that isn’t going to be here any time soon. With the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday tomorrow, though, we’ve got just a few weeks left together, the warehouse and I, and there’s any number of things that I haven’t been able to take care of so far that I’ll have to turn over.

I think I just went over my limit on the corporate jargon-o-meter. I’m down to — let’s see — three weeks and today. Each day becomes an ever-increasing percentage of the time left; this week alone has eaten up a good twenty-five percent. I’ll call it a relative dilation of time: as the actual day approaches each individual day seems to creep by faster and faster in some kind of blur. I know that no one has sped up the clock but I also know that there’s been whole days lately where I’ll sit down and eventually find myself by 11:30 wondering. What I’ve done that day. Lunch has been inconsistent too, ranging anywhere from I’m-hungry to what-day-is-it.

When I was younger I used to decry not having seen the sun in Cheney at all: during debate season there was always the tournament at Gonzaga in January where we’d have to get up early enough and return so late that it felt like we were thieves stealing out to do business by the cover of night. The time change always does this to me: instead of delaying the onset of morning but ensuring enough light to bring us home as during Daylight Savings adjusted hours we’re starting to hit the dark-dark zone. I have to keep reminding myself that even that’s not forever, and a month from now is when the solstice hits and we’ll start gettting longer days again. Changes creep up fast on you and before you know it you’re back to something new.

Mike

Years Gone By

Dear J-

I’m finding more and more ways to while my life away online without actually doing anything. Virtual ink is spilled, pixels shuttered on and off at my whims but one EMP later and it’s all so easily gone. There’s a thousand things that you can spend tiime doing but I suppose the entertainment value of having yuor name in print offsets the time it sucks down from your life. At any rate, that now makes three primarily blogging accounts and two social networks. If I wasn’t disconnected from the physical world yet I might as well be now. Great.

Then again five years from now I’m sure that the things I thought were totallly profound will turn out to be as ephemeral as the food that seems to disappear from Calcifer’s plate every time I turn around (that kid’s gonna be an eater). It always seems to happen that way; things you spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about turn out fine without much further intervention; it’s the little things that’ll trip you up. For want of a nail and all that, right? As long as you’re willing to be alive, though, that’s how long you’re going to have worries. We all have them: we worry about money and stretching our budget, figgy worries about the next dessert, Calcifer worries at his teeth (now showing, a double feature starring canines).

In the big scheme of things having to wrry about having too much time is so ridiculously leisure-class I can’t begin to describe how privleged I feel. I keep meaning to figure out different things around the house and life (what’ll we do about the saggy closet, should I scan that bigger-than-a-shoebox of photos, what’s next for us in five years, in ten; do I walk away thinking I’ve done as much as I can?) but for now it’s jusst enough to have the time available to watch the days and years churn by.

Mike

Witless Speculation

Dear J-

The longer I keep staying up so late and try to get things done the more I realize that this low-grade cold keeps lingering. If I could just get ahead in my reading and blogging then I’d have enough time to sleep. What I really need is to pare back the list of articles I read, as there’s no way I actually catch up day after day (at the moment I’m three days behind and fading fast). Keeping up with the torrent is one thing, and sleep is yet another.

There’s a high degree of frustration just lately with devices now that the honeymoon period has worn off and I find myself actually having to work around their peculiarities; the initial rush of excitement that it actually works has given way to endless speculation that maybe thus isn’t the right way that things should be working: should my phone really require a daily reboot? Why is the Bluetooth so flaky? Do the keyboard batteries news to be recharged? Should I reinstall the custom ROM or should I start taking programs off?

One of the primary reasons I pick a product is to reduce my burden; if I’m having to manage it and sink more than an expected amount of time into maintenance then the product has failed its useability test. I’m starting to get red up with Android or at least this particular (hacked) implementation of it. My particular disappointment with the iPhone launch us that there’s still no option for my prepaid carrier aside from an iPod Touch sleeve to add 3G access, something that gives me equal parts hope and despair.

Mike

Time Slips

Dear J-

One of the things I keep telling myself is later: we’ll get to travel a whole bunch. Later. I’ll save up for that big trip. We’ll get used to it. What else have you put off in favor of later? It always seems like there’s enough time to do what you want right now but those few minutes of each day add up and before you know it you’re looking at the wrong end of bedtime, or your kid is already four and you wonder what happened while you were watching TV or reading the news instead of talking during dinner, making light conversation and expressing the right pleasantries instead. Just thinking about it brings me to the edge of panic in a way that hasn’t happened since trying to calculate what grades I’m destined for halfway through the semester (that means if I score 100% on every test from here on out … I’m still going to fail).

There is a surprisingly large amount of things we can put off in our lives. We will run short on everything eventually, though, whether money or gasoline or time, and you don’t want to be the person saying that you wish you’d taken the time to do this or that instead of killing time somehow. This last month, when I haven’t had a chance to write on the van in the mornings (as the backup driver, I try to help out where I can and it’s really rather difficult to drive and write at the same time) brings the point home to me: there’s not always enough time in the day to do everything, pick what you want to delay.

For much of the month I’ve been telling stories to figgy. It’s part of our bedtime routine now: bath, brush teeth, some books (three shall be the number, two being employed when I am too tired to think and four being RIGHT OUT), then theVet will come in to sing songs (have you heard me sing? It’s a wonder the birds don’t fall out of the trees, stone-deaf), and finally I go back in lately to make up stories with her favorite characters (Madeline or a Disney Princess or one of her stuffed toys). I’ve cut the story short at times for no good reason other than that I’m in the middle of something else and I want to get back to it. The trick to effective time management is the concept of be here now: the more of you that’s devoted to the task at hand, the faster it gets done (or at least more satisfyingly) and you’ll be better off in the end knowing you did a good job instead of rushing through it in favor of something silly.

Mike

Short Time

Dear J-

Consider this: I spend maybe at most three hours a day during the weekdays with figgy. She’s in daycare so I pick her up between 5:30 and 6, bring her home to eat dinner (where I tune everyone out while reading the newspaper distractedly), give her a bath, then we watch maybe half an hour of some show (she’s been on a Wallace & Gromit kick lately; they are the perfect length and I will nap sometimes) and I brush her teeth and read her stories for another half an hour until theVet takes over to sing (let’s just say that no one would be soothed by my tuneless croaking). Repeat. That’s been our pattern for four years come October.

Put it that way, line the numbers up baldly like that and it’s clear that I spend less time with figgy than at work or even (almost) the commute (4:45-6 in the morning and 3-4:45 in the afternoon = 3 hours commute time). And after she goes to bed I stay up late thinking I need the time to update pictures, online status, go through my Google Reader articles, maybe play a game or two and decompress. Because, you know, it’s so stressful to not spend time with your daughter and ignore her until she falls asleep (she has started holding it until after bedtime so that she has an excuse to bound up and use the restroom, which does show a surprising level of craftiness: how can you say no to the restroom break?).

I don’t stop being a parent once she goes to sleep but I also can’t spend your fraction of a day together and call that adequate. When we’re on vacation or the weekends the intensity level doesn’t drop. We have the whole day when usually we have to compress the crazy laughter and play into those three hours and yet it feels unbalanced, that we instead need to spread ourselves thin across activities and busy times to compensate for th skimpy amount of total hours. I remember what it was like to have to entertain yourself and I know she’ll get there sooner or later but for now we make the best of it and I promise that our three hours, short as they may be, need to have more quality and less distraction.

Mike