business casual at the panel

I’m still not certain what this criteria of dress is, and according to different web sources, no one else is either. No jeans, no logo shirts is pretty clear. No suits is pretty clear. So grey pants and a white collar shirt with black Limmer Standards is OK, yeah?

I still don’t know exactly what I’ll talk about yet, but I feel OK about that. We’ll see what the room is like, and what the audience is like this morning, and by my session at 1p I’ll hopefully have a good game plan. If not… well, it’s only the business school, which for me is lower stakes than say, public health, or journalism. I’m looking forward to it, though I’m sure the day will seem extra long. I did get a 9 hour sleep last night so I should be in full force.

Have a great Friday and I’ll let you know how things went in Monday’s update.

Go forth unafraid, little monkeys.

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One down, three to go

Presentation this morning was good. I think I was clear and concise, persuasive. My voice sounds better than other times, and I can’t always control it. Happens all the time. I have one voice that’s good for presenting stuff, it’s deeper and clearer, and this morning that one was on.

Despite my pre-talk nervousness which I always have, I enjoy having an audience and communicating to them. I like the intensity of the moment. There’s no where to go, no backing out, all eyes on you, what will you do with that time? It’s not all the time we have that chance. I like the mindset it gives me. If I could have that kind of focus daily, I would like it.

Next presentation is this afternoon, 2:30-4p workshop talk on agent-based systems. Should be fine, but I double booked my time. I have a client coming in at 2p for a meeting and I’ll have to do as much in those 30 minutes as possible before switching back into presenter mode. I hate calendars. I miss my secretary.

Once the 4p is over, I’ll dive into preparing for my talk tomorrow. It’s at the executive education conference. I was asked to run a long session on the future of learning. I’m actually really looking forward to that one, I like that audience because they’re so different from me. They don’t have a philosophy of life and it’s an interesting atmosphere, like speaking to an army of robots, in some ways.

What is a philosophy of life, and does it matter. What comes out of having one. Who has a philosophy of life and why. Where did that idea come from, where is it used. Do most people have one these days (no) and does it matter. I’m looking into it for you.

Enjoy your Day of Thor.

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new old perspectives

Didn’t go into work today. I crashed down here in Chinatown last night and had a terrible time. I woke up repeatedly, had awful dreams, and when the sun arose my stomach was hurting. I wrote in and canceled all my meetings. No big deal. This leaves this afternoon for preparing for all my talks on Thursday and Friday anyway.

It’s pouring rain outside and the city is in a large, heavy cloud. From the 26th floor here, I can see most of the bottom half of Manhattan stacking in front of me. Here:

 In one dream, I was in a room that had bunk beds. I was lying on the floor, on a mattress, and other people were in there, a few girls. As I lay there, one of them came and stretched out next to me, close enough that there was contact. As she curled up and got ready to sleep, she pressed against me and my arm. Suddenly she sprung to her feet, shouted “What the fuck?!” and turned on all the lights. She started accusing me of groping her. She started saying that I was trying to touch her and how could I and she was extremely upset. The other girls were there looking on in disbelief, and I was frozen. I started to say I didn’t do anything, and simultaneously recognized how guilty it makes a person sound when they say that. The only thing I could try to do was explain that she pressed into me, that I was already there, she came after. But no one believed it. Then the accuser girl said, “And with your own girlfriend right in the same room!”

And at that moment we all looked up at the bunk bed, and there was a girl up there. She looked familiar to me, but not someone I knew. She looked at me with disgust and turned away in her bed, facing the wall. I walked over to her bunk and said something like: “I didn’t do anything! I swear!” And she said: “Look, it’s already 8:35, let’s just all go to bed.”

I woke up sweating, pulse racing, and I was confused. From then on it was on and off sleep. I tried listening to a podcast to get me to settle in, but it wasn’t helpful. Now I’m sitting here eating plain oatmeal and 8 scrambled eggwhites alone in this strange empty apartment. I need to get back uptown, I think. Though I’m not sure why. I have a dinner down here at 6 that I need to be at, one of the Association dinners. I need to crash uptown tonight, though, because of my presentation (which I’m not ready for) early tomorrow morning.

Something is off about this whole thing, the night, the morning, and I wish I knew exactly what it was. I also wish I weren’t here. But I don’t know where else I would be, besides Coronado, another non-home.

Fuck man, I hate this shit. Please pass soon.

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rugged sinews

Can barely walk today. I trained hard last night and barely made it out of there. I warmed up with a run, then used the heavy bag for 20 minutes before starting 3×20 rep squats with 135, 185 and then 225lbs. After the first 40 reps, the 225 was brutal. I stood there panting with the bar on my back, taking 5 or 6 deep breaths between each rep. But I didn’t stop until 20, and the veins in my quads were pulsing. If there was a person who wanted to feel their limit, but not take an hour to find it by running or swimming or whatever it is they do, the best test is 3×20 rep squats with at least your body weight on the bar. If you can grind that out, you’re in good shape. If you can’t, it’s an easy goal to shoot for– it’s just a number, and you can take as long as you need to get there. When I was on rep 17 and 18 I bet a full 10 seconds passed between each rep. There were sweat drops on the floor below me. When it was all over, I was absolutely empty.

The only state in which I feel tranquil.

Someone canceled a meeting at the last minute just now, so I have a free hour. What a neat thing, the gift of time.

Also, my legs are wrecked, so I’m feeding them.

Big conference on Friday to prepare for, I have to do an hour. Thursday morning I have to do 30 minutes at a staff meeting. Thursday afternoon I have to do an hour workshop.

I’d rather be actually managing my projects. And I’d rather be secretly working on my dissertation, the thing that keeps me up at night. But the public appearances are important, and need to be done well. Hell, I might even shave for this one.

Last night we had a guest join jam, the husband of an ex-coworker, saxophonist. There were four of us, plus him, and surprisingly, it worked well. We went off into the world of high distortion drone, and he picked up the thread right away, and played improvised melodies over the top. We lasted two hours and all agreed it was fun and that’d we’d do it again. We talked about doing something like this for a long time, and as I was uncertain how things would turn out, there was a bit of nervous energy leading up to it. Only two of us have actually played with anyone but each other, so this was a big step, and it was worth it. I’ll try to get a copy of the recording up somewhere.

Back into it. Have a great Tuesday, February 26, 2013, the only one there is.

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Real update.

Busy weekend, if you define “busy” as having all your time taken by a few things, and not having enough time for everything else. I was in the library, mostly. I trained and I ate and I slept deeply and long, waking up in the usual state: pissed off and with a ragingly huge erection.

Both weekend mornings I grunted angrily out of bed, dressed quickly and headed back into my secret spot in the old library, the west wing amongst the old books, and grappled with the things I’m too thick-headed to understand quickly. It can take a few rounds. It usually does. I have to pound stuff into my head to learn it, that’s just been the way of me.

I really have to work at it. I have to work at concentrating and really getting stuff through to myself. There are times when I think I understand something pretty well, only to find that when I try to explain the thing back to myself I realize that I’m just a friggin’ idiot. That’s maybe 80% of the time. The other 20% my idiocy is simply explicit.

Something that’s becoming clearer to me as time goes on and I supposedly grow as an individual is that I’m a mostly physical being, and less social and intellectual. I’m more caveman, I guess. I used to think that it was some kind of misdirected or unresolved psychological baggage, maybe stunted from the past,  that someday it would just stop and I’d be left as a normal-type dude, someone who’s able to work at a desk and have a normal family life and just conform in most ways to what this time and place seems to be made of, and be happy about it all.  But as I get older, in my early 30s now, I see that this isn’t some kind of latency, not some kind stunted growth. My nature is physical over intellectual, and my strivings tend to be the same.

I am happiest and most tranquil after exerting myself, working hard, sweating and bleeding it out. I like to build stuff and look at it when I’m done, even if it’s a worthless piece of shit. I like to manipulate my physical environment, to create spaces that are mine, and for the feeling of interacting with stuff. I like the contact, I like moving heavy things around, and placing things carefully and purposefully, holding them tightly together or ripping them uncarefully apart. I like getting scrapped up and calloused. I can’t stand offices and office life and can’t work in that environment and amongst the douchey fucks who work there. Classrooms are just as nasty to me and I can’t stand the academy and all its absurdities, people teaching stuff they hardly know anything about, people who have less wisdom than the guy who stands on the corner of my block, yet “teach” others how things are… how they’re supposed to think, how they’re supposed to write… fuck all that shit.

I need strong boots on my feet and pants that don’t need ironing. I need my spaces to be unfragile so I can move about freely and do the things I need to do without worrying about stuff rattling or falling as I move past. Apartment life is hard for me.

Lately my body is raging. There are days when I wake up so hard and huge that I’m beside myself. I can feel my heartbeat in my dick and it takes every ounce of me to resist thinking about how badly I want that person from my past, just to be there for that moment, for them to know that of all the people I dream about when I’m in that state, that I still want them, to give it to them, for them to want it so badly and to take it.

I’m sure that moment is full of every piece of psychological baggage imaginable. After every weird, dream– the dinosaurs and wishing wells, and super babes who want every drop of me–  and when every cell in my body is functioning with one supremely unified goal in mind…

…there’s no end to this sentence.

I wonder if some day that just stops happening.

Why not just go get it– why the torture? Little monkeys, I don’t want to grab every opportunity with every attractive option. I want to be the hold out, the one that few women get to know. It means something more to me. I don’t want to just masturbate with someone else’s body. If you think about it in that way– masturbating with someone else’s body– it’s pretty gross. That’s a helpful metaphor for when I get weak. And that happens. But I handle it. I have my shower and my training and my fighting and my late night library headache sessions and my rages.

On days like today I realize I never really left age 18 or so. I still have that energy, the always-on anger and dissatisfaction with so much. It’s never left me, nor did the idiotic attitude problems or my retardedness, my inability to just relax about shit. How fucked is it to wake up with fists clenched, ready to jump into the day smashing holes in everything, while simultaneously hindered by the largest throbbing hardons possible.

Happy Monday you docile little creatures around me, better stay out of my way.

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update coming!

A little late today, sorry about that. Come back later!

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Learning and Changes

Learning produces changes within an organism, and interestingly, those changes are almost always permanent. The stakes of learning are quite high as it creates a state of being that ultimately determines nearly everything about life as you know it.

We have a tendency to reduce “learning” to the acquisition of facts. We learn about things that happened in the past and present so that we might incorporate the outcomes, desirable or not, into our future decision-making, and to make predictions that lead to our well-being.  But obviously, though easily forgotten, that concept of learning is a very small, almost minuscule aspect of the real phenomenon.

Try thinking about learning in the context of values, behaviors, skills, preferences, so on.  It turns out that how we define ourselves and our entire species is learned. We could be totally different than how we are. We’ve learned to be the way we are, and it’s possible to learn different things, and those things determine how and to an extent what we are. We know this is true by having observed different kinds of humans in different places who view things and do things differently. Cultures whose entire concept of life itself is different from our own. And individuals, even that guy down the street, whose concept of life and living is vastly different than that of my own, both of our concepts have been learned, and that is a process.

There are types of learning processes at work, working on you and in you, at all times, and those things affect and determine how and what you are. For example, one type of learning is habituation. In habituation, a progressive diminution of behavior response to a certain stimulus eventually determines a state of  being. If an organism is exposed to a certain regular stimulus, its reaction to it will be diminished, possibly to the point where it’s no longer even sensed. In habituation, we can become blind to things around us, even other people and their states.

Another kind of learning is enculteration, our inescapable adoption of the beliefs, behaviors, thinking and working patterns of the environment in which we develop, notably our native environment. Note this is different from acculturation, which is the same but when the environment new to us, i.e. non-native. One we have no choice about until the right experience comes along and enables us to see ourselves as an enculturated being, and at that moment an empowered being, able to exert will and self-determine our state, our experiences, our values and beliefs. What is the “right experience” and how does that fit into the phenomenon? It’s called “episodic learning”.

Episodic learning is a change in behavior or understanding that results from the occurrence of an event. It’s so named because the way an event is recorded in our minds is different than how other forms of information are recorded. It’s actually a different kind of memory altogether, aptly named “episodic memory”, contrasted to semantic and perceptual memory. Episodic memories are autobiographical, the permanent changes in our brains that come from time, place, emotion and other contextual elements of a specific event. The right kind of experience can change us permanently, granting us a way of seeing the world that is forever altered. Throughout history these experiences have been documented. The Buddha was forever changed, calling it an “awakening”. Newton was forever changed, calling it “deterministic laws of nature”. George Orwell was forever changed, suddenly aware of political tools.

Our experiences determine what and who we are, and we have control over what kinds of experiences we have. How do we judge the value of how we spend or time and how do we progress towards our greatest potentials where we experience the most happiness? We must choose what and why we do the things we do, and understand them fully, if we are truly to determine our lives for ourselves.

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I don’t work well with others

And it’s not that I don’t like people. It’s that I don’t like working with people when the medium is “ideas”. If we’re building a canoe, I’m happy to help sand, and get help lifting it to the water. If it’s a battle, please be on my team, and I’ll cover you, too. But how rare is it, really, that professional work groups are actual “teams” with truly common objectives? And how frequent is it, instead, that the objective on everyone’s mind is personal gain and advancement.

I like new ideas, and I like learning, and obviously we need each other to have our best ideas, and to be inspired by the great ideas of others. That’s all self-evident. What I don’t like are meetings– those strange assemblies of humans where all the worst traits of fearful, striving and ambitious humans– the drama, the egos, the strategizing and positioning– slowly take shape and dominate. I hate seeing people trying to exert influence over others when their goal is self-promotion.

But there’s one thing I hate most of all.

There’s a thing that happens often here, though I’m fully aware that this perception might be my own, something I’m overly sensitive to, and that perhaps the same thing happens to everyone else round me. But for right now, as it’s so incredibly on my mind, I’m going to assume it’s a real thing and not a problem of my perception.

What happens is that, in private, I’ll be asked to have a conversation, or a quick meeting, or a quick question. Sometimes the person just wants to chat about something they’re working on, sometimes it’s a particular question, sometimes it’s feedback on an idea, and sometimes it’s because they’re looking for ideas. When people come to me hoping for that kind of interaction, I’m very happy to do so. I like those conversations and I’m glad to be able to offer suggestions or ideas that might help.

But what happens so frequently is that when it’s time for a bigger meeting, and perhaps senior management is there, and maybe there are 5-10 of us, or in the case of a staff meeting, about 40 of us, the person who asked me for ideas will offer those same ideas to the bigger group as if they were his or her own. They will throw out a suggestion, or an idea,  offering it as if they’ve been thinking about it and it suddenly, without cause, it occurred to them: “I’ve been thinking that…” Despite the fact it didn’t come from them, and was in fact offered to them from someone else.

If it was a good suggestion, they then get credit for it, and when they get recognized for it by senior management, it becomes a bigger deal. Despite how petty this might sound, little monkeys, it can be quite a big deal in the scheme of things, and if it happens frequently.

“Why not just take it as a complement that they used your idea? Don’t you know it’s the highest form of flattery?” Little monkeys, in some contexts that is surely the case. With your friends, your family, even outside groups if you have nothing to lose in the scheme of things. But in a place like mine, all of that b.s. actually matters very much, and maybe it’s the same way in your work environment, too. People are jockeying for postion constantly, trying to get noticed, trying to get raises, trying to look smart, and evidently even if the tactics show a lack of integrity, even if it’s all a fake display, their image in the group, whether legitimate or not, carries the most weight.

I suppose that’s likely the case everywhere you go, and probably most working groups are this way. That doesn’t change how I much I dislike it.

It seems like some people are more comfortable taking credit for the work or ideas of others. Maybe to them, it’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe for them that’s what working life is like. Maybe they learned that in school. Hell, maybe that’s how they made it through school… by relying on the work or answers of others and learning how to use it as their own. Maybe they haven’t even thought about it. Maybe to them it’s just natural and they’re completely oblivious to it. Maybe they assume it’s what everyone does and it’s just part of “collaboration”.

One possible partial explanation is that they forget where their ideas came from. Maybe in the heat of the big meeting, when all eyes are on them, they can’t seem to add that little “…this is actually so-and-so’s idea, but I think it’s a good one, so if he doesn’t mind I’ll share it…”.

Another possibility is that many of them assume that the person whose idea they’re taking credit for already gets enough credit. Maybe they think that person doesn’t need to be recognized for it because they have enough recognition, and that they themselves need it more than he does. That’s possible, though in my case I’d say it’s a terribly false assumption. As a person who chooses to listen more than speak at large meetings, I’m not sure senior management really knows who’s coming up with what.

A solution would be to stop providing my best suggestions or ideas when asked. That’s not a good solution– it’s paranoid and sneaky and unhealthy. But it is an option.

Another solution is to try to document my ideas as soon as they’re offered. That could help, but the problem with that is where that documentation would live and who on earth would ever read it, or why.

Another solution is to pounce first at large meetings when there’s a chance someone will use my wording or ideas as their own. That solution sucks because I hate that shit. That is the atmosphere I’m rejecting and refusing to be a part of, and is exactly why I don’t flex myself (if you know what I mean) at meetings: it’s what everyone else does and it sucks. I hate it more now than when I first started.

I think I just don’t work well with others. There are practices in group work that many people seem fine with, that are OK for them, that they are able to handle and navigate, possibly even enjoy. Perhaps the most social of people look forward to the strategizing and navigating and so on. I’d be happier without meetings and collaborative idea proffering. Happier without needing to self-promote at every chance. I’d be happier building canoes. Happier rescuing a hostage. Happier finding something out and writing it down. Happier not having to deal with competitive people who, if it were real competition, would be dead, but who for now I must leave alone to think and enjoy what they will.

When it comes at my expense, I can’t help but think about how incompatible I actually am with the above model of human “collaboration”– the drama and scheming– and how frequently our various enterprises and systems have evolved to reward those skills and tolerances above all else, mostly because the leadership of those same systems moved into their positions by using those same absurd skills, and expect everyone else to desire to do the same.

Group work can take its place in the realm of the fake and the false, like so many other things in modern working life. But it would be awesome to get the canoe out on the water today.

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recovered-ish

Ears ringin’ still and I love it. My neck is a little sore and my heart is full. Me and Gio (the lead guitarist from Malevolent Creation) met up at the venue to watch Devin Townsend and Gojira do their thing, and we had a blast. We talked guitars at the bar for an hour before heading up to check Dev out.

Devin is one the hardest to explain musicians in my collection of favorites. Musically he’s all over the place, though tending towards the heavier side. Lyrically he’s as diverse as anything you can imagine. He has songs about late night drives in the rain, the pain of your insignificance in the scheme of things, an alien named Ziltoid who’s roaming the universe looking for coffee, boobies, detoxification of the mind… and ten zillion other things. He’s been married to the same women he fell in love with at the very start of his career 22 years ago, and he has two kids, and they all live out in a beautiful part of British Columbia, where he also runs HevyDevy records, his home studio in the middle of the woods.

I will not go on about Devin and his art right now.  Needless to say, you can see his portrait in my gallery of my family members in the menu bar of this page, so you already know how dear he his to me.

Gojira did their usual thing. They ripped it. When they left the crowd was panting, exhausted, sweaty, bruised and sore, and so were they. They asked if anyone was at the last show, in August at Webster Hall. You might remember I was there. 

This is the song they opened with. Please watch it with headphones, and at least get up through the first minute. When that insanely heavy riff drops at 0:24, yeah, that’s when people went flying through the air. How can anyone not dance to that.


I made it home around 2a with a huge grin on my face, not thinking at all about how early I had to wake up this morning to make a meeting at the uptown office. As has been the case generally, a great metal show can set me straight for days and is always worth it. A good heavy show makes me peaceful and happy, makes me feel healthy and satisfied. I sleep well, I think well, I feel good. That’s all there is to it.

Gio and I grabbed tacos on the way out and parted at 34th where he headed back to Jersey. Next show in a couple weeks. And I survived the day. Now time for some motherfucking training.

Later monkeys.

 

 

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recov

Devin and Gojira kicked my ass last night. Recovery morning and I’m running late. More (ughh) later (groooaaan)

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