For about the past year have been making a determined effort to do something that's not business whenever I'm in a different city on business. I'm currently in LA on business and the not business thing I just did was go see A COMPLETELY AMAZING EXHIBIT OF THE ART OF TIM HAWKINSON.
Marjorie mentioned the exhibit, heard it was amazing, it's over in a month, and the LA County Museum of Art is conveniently open until 8pm on Monday nights and free after 5pm. What a perfect alignment of the stars.
I hadn't heard of Hawkinson until about five hours ago and I'm completely enthralled. He's created an incredible body of work, many of them meditations on the theme of his own body, incredibly original self portraits in paint, inflated latex, and molten lead. Amazing contraptions that sign his signature over and over on little slips of paper, a montion-sensor driven wizamajig that drips water onto percussive pie plates, and room-filling collection of humanoid figures who thump drums according to the air pushed through a maze of pipes that look like tree branches.
We launched our company blog today, so I now have a channel for work musings.
This will probably come as a relief to my mom (and perhaps others) who don't give a rats ass about the mobile industry or the posts on those topics that sometimes pop up here on Joygantic.
Alas, I'll be missing tonight's fabulous Rat City Roller Girls match. It'll be the first public match they've had where I won't be there cheering on the Throttle Rockets. I trust my dear friends will be hold up the fighting spirit.
I'll be a BBQ with Ms. Dia, which will be most excellent since I'm skipping town for five days tomorrow afternoon and she's leaving town before I get home. This is our trademark "two ships passing in the night" form of business travel.
Before I leave, though, we've got to begin pinnign down our Burning Man plans because, holy crap, the man burns in 42 days and we'll be out on the playa in about 36 days.
This makes an excellent time to clean up my tent from last year, which I did this morning, with furious sprays of water that really seemed to have no effect on the playa dust.
Lest anyone feel that the last post was filled with benevolence and pseudo-wisdom, let me clarifiy that I certainly don't pretend to or want to live in a completely snark-free zone because that would make it hard to make fun of Tom Cruise and might but limits on my freedom to grouse about George W. Bush and we all know that if we give up our freedom the terrorists will have won. (Which is why we need to give up some freedoms so that we can defend our freedoms agaisnt the terrorists who don't want us to have any. Got it?)
Let me also make it clear that I'm not wise at all as witnessed by our latest home repair issue. We returned from some trip about a month ago and the house was in fine order except for the part where half of the power in our bedroom. It happened to be the half that normally powers Dia's clock radio, lamp, a fan, and the TV that helps her fall asleep despite my snoring. Drawing on my vast knowledge of electrical systems I flipped the breaker but that did not resore power. So we've been coping with this for weeks until today when the electrician showed arrived and rapidly determined that the problem was the result of the light switch on the wall had been flipped from "on" to "off." That had never occured to me. Feel free to snicker.
I mentioned yesterday that I'd lost my snicker. While I haven't completely lost my snark it tends to disappear for days at a time and when it returns I just don't feel right about asking where it's been.
If you knew me between the ages of, say, 13 and 30 you would have been very acquainted with my snark and snicker. In fact I'd go so far as to say that much of my personality--certainly through high school and college--was defined by snark and snicker. Irony. Sarcasm. My best friends at the time. Really, really good mechanisms for projecting a sense of calm lassiefaire superiority which was a convenient shield for a rampant sense of discomfort, fear, and incompetence. Lazy faire is more like it.
But then something happened as a result of forces, choices, and experiences that I won't bore you with at the moment. I discovered my heart. By which I mean: I stopped trying to use precious moments to convey how smart, sharp, and biting I could be. I figured out that snarking and snickering, while entertaining, was about building walls instead of paths. Paths. You can stroll down those. Walls. You've got to climb them.
Me, I'd prefer to stroll, with my arm around fine people, down a path.
Thanks to dakini_grl for the inspiration for this post.
I work in a open office which means: no offices, no cubes, just desks.
When I started my current gig eight months ago this setup kind of freaked me out. I'd traded a third floor window office with a view of the Puget Sound for a desk, a chair, and three drawers. But it rocks.
Everyone eavesdrops on conversations (impossible not to), and it's easy to see what's happening across multiple departments. There's instant messaging for 1:1 conversations and a conference room for meetings. I come into the office before anyone else a couple times each week to get focused, quiet work done and sometimes leave early or work a bit from home to get solitude. But these are small tradeoffs for being in the thick of, well pretty much everything, everyday.
However I am probably the most annoying occupant of the open office since I'm often on the phone and my ringtone . . . well let's just say that two months of listening to a North Korean patriotic anthem appears to be wearing on the engineering department. I better fix that.