As I type these words it’s a little before 8pm here in California on Election Day. It’s early, but I have the sense things aren’t going so well. I’m trying to avoid watching the news in real time. I’ve never been good at watching something, even as innocuous as a sports game, where something I really care about is on the line. Maybe that why I never became a sports fan. I guess I’m envious of people that can see politics as exciting as a sport, rather than seeing our society’s future on the line. If things are going to hell in a handbasket, I’d like a few more hours to not know that. I truly hope that tomorrow will bring good news. My daughter was asking why I can’t watch the coverage, and I don’t have a good answer. The uncertainty and fear make me feel sick. It’s like seeing the bad news trickle in is a form of torture. I let myself feel some optimism about this election in the past few weeks, but I (and millions of others) were too optimistic. Somewhere along the line I must have been hurt by disappointment. Most of my life I haven’t let myself feel too optimistic about anything. Thought is it’s better to be pleasantly surprised rather than crushed.
I don’t know what I’ll do if things turn out bad. Not much else but to try and put on a brave face for my kids, and keep moving forward. Nothing lasts forever.
When I was younger, I had a recurring fantasy scenario where I would end up trapped in a room with a girl or woman that I had a crush on. The reason didn’t matter (locked in by villains, emergency outside, earthquake, etc), what mattered is that I was with her. I guess necessities were magically taken care of. Since we were trapped together we would be forced to get to know each other, and invariably she would fall for me and we’d be unable to resist each other and have hot locked-up sex. Anyways, embarrassing reveal aside, after falling for me, we would be together and we’d be able to go back out into the normal world and live happily ever after. Eight weeks into our COVID-19 shelter-in-place, I look back at that fantasy scenario and laugh a bit, not in a mean-spirited way, but at the naivety and inexperience of that younger, hormone wracked version of me.
When we first started the shelter-in-place, I wasn’t too worried. I had my wife to go through this process with, that is I wasn’t alone, and I figured the kids would make do with whatever the schools ended up doing. Granted, at that point the schools were arguing for staying open. I would be working from home, but that would mean all kinds of free time for hobbies, cooking, etc. I also don’t think I had comprehended that this would be going on for months. Another silly fantasy, but at age 45!
I told my wife a few weeks in, and it’s still true, that I couldn’t ask for a better person to be stuck at home with. We’ve traveled a lot together, spending time on planes, cramped buses, and trains. Stayed in small hotel rooms, basically been in each other’s faces for weeks on end. Of course we’d get annoyed with each other at some point, but in the end, we did well together, we appreciated each other’s company and felt more connected after those trips. So I didn’t my worries about being with my wife for long periods of time.
The wrinkle for sheltering-in-place has been the kids. Were it just my wife and I, I can imagine a scenario where we’d both work, find an excuse to take a break, talk, have sex, whatever, just enjoy each other. However, since the kids are home with us all day every day, things are much more complicated. Besides the obvious consequence of having absolutely no time alone, neither of us can do as much work as we’d like. Without our intervention (my wife is doing a much better job than me with this) the kids wouldn’t do much more than watch TV (younger one) or spend time on her phone (older one). To be fair, I would love the opportunity to read all the books I’ve been meaning to get to, and catch on up movies and tv shows, so I get it. However, school is still in session, and we are trying to get the kids to participate in their “distance learning”.
As my wife told me, times of duress exacerbate underlying issues. For the kids this has meant that their learning disabilities have come roaring back in full force. My younger daughter is more willing to participate in the classes and meetings, probably because there is more structure thanks to her teacher, but she still has regressed in some behaviors, and is resistant to going outside at all. My older daughter’s ADHD, and possibly other issues, seemed to be under more control before school was shifted to online but has made trying to get any school work done from home nearly impossible. For me, despite not feeling like I am experiencing my typical depression, a lot of the symptoms have surfaced. The lack of alone time, and dealing with the behaviors from my kids has made me question my competence as a father. On some level I know the girls have been thrown off by the change in schedule and their lack of social interactions that normally occur through school or sports. I also assume they are probably scared, although they don’t show it. I look at some of my single friends, and the idea of being stuck at home without kids sounds wonderful. Does that make me a bad father? I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to have to argue with kids to go outside, or to read instead of watching Youtube videos. I want to be able to lose myself with work, then read, or watch a TV show, or share some intimacy with my wife rather than be yelled at for asking my daughter to do a single lousy math worksheet. My wife and I didn’t have much alone time before, but by the time evenings come around we are both so wiped that it seems like we have no energy for any time for connection or intimacy, so there is even less than before. I think we’ve had sex maybe once in the past 8 weeks.
Another theme that has been brought into relief is my age old issue of feeling that that I lack connection to people, or a sort of social isolation. I rarely see people outside of work and family to begin with, so it was a bummer to realize that socially, not a hell of a lot has changed. I can’t go to my weekly self-defense class, and I can’t go into my dad and sister’s house, (I still seem them about once a week in their back yard) but otherwise there hasn’t been a big shift in my social routine. And that bugs the fuck out of me. I try to stay in contact with friends via text, and I’ve had a couple of video meetings with a friend from grad school (who lives on the East coast), but that’s been it. Once again, I find myself in this unpleasant yet familiar place of realizing that I have a huge hole where the social aspect of my life should be. My wife often complained about having to go because she was tired, but she has a group of friends who regularly met up in person for dinners, or other events. They’ve migrated online (and she still complains), but I envy her having a friend group that can feel comfortable talking to each other even on the computer.
The final theme that has resurfaced are my feelings of inadequacy regarding my income and inability to provide enough to support my family enough so that we can buy a house. My older daughter loves to tell me how I have a shitty job, mostly because I don’t earn enough for us to buy a house. I used to try to explain why having a job with health benefits, flexibility and, thank goodness given the situation, incredible stability and safety of employment is not “shitty”, but now I try to not react and get to the underlying issues. I know she’s a teen, and for some reason spends hours on Zillow looking at houses, but it’s hard. My wife is resentful because she is constantly reminded that out of her siblings and most of her high school and college friends, she the only one who doesn’t own a house. On top of that she earns more than I do, and hates having to work so much AND still not be able to buy a house. We are so incredibly fortunate to have more or less stable jobs and live in a large space that despite its many faults offers us room to spread out. However, I often wonder where I went “wrong”? Was there some juncture where I could have made a different decision or decisions that would have led me to a place where I would “earn enough”? When did having a job that allows you to buy a million dollar house become the only measure of success?
But I can’t fight the situation. I’ve actually had an incredibly hard time fully understanding the situation or writing about what has been going on because I feel like I can’t fully process it. In the NY Times, I read a letter to the deceased Gabriel García Márquez from his son and he described exactly what I have been feeling
“A few weeks ago, during our first few days sequestered at home, my head was straining to explain to myself what it could all mean, or at least what could come out of it. I failed. The fog was too heavy. Now that things have become more quotidian, as things do eventually even in the most frightening wars, I am still unable to frame it all in any satisfying way”
However, it is what it is and I’m trying to adapt. Doing a shitty job of it, but trying. In regards to the kids, rather than be that crotchety old man yelling at the kids to get off his damn lawn, I’m trying to slow down in my reactions and see if I can feel compassion for them. On the mornings where I haven’t stayed up ridiculously late and naturally wake up early, I try to meditate. I regularly join my wife for her online Pilates class three times a week, and I get out at least once a day, even if it is only to walk around the block. I think it’s giving me a little bit more bandwidth, but not sure. As for the social issues and feelings of inadequacy, don’t know how to deal with those, but I’m thinking about them, and trying to cut myself a little slack at least. I also try to remind myself that we incredibly fortunate, billions of other people in the world right now are in terrible conditions. We aren’t suffering for lack of housing and food and medicine and we have our health.
So, as we continue into this pandemic I can say two things with certainty:
My wife and I are going to have to spend some time without the kids once it becomes safe to travel and to drop off the kids somewhere. We need to re-establish our intimacy and have some fun together.
I’m really glad that I was never stuck in a small room for a long period with someone I was attracted to, even more so had kids been in that room.
The news has been insidiously getting to me recently, or at least since late 2016. Rules designed to protect the environment and the use of science in regulations are being rolled back, all in light of irrefutable evidence that global warming is happening and will continue. The income gap continues to grow, housing in most urban centers in this country is becoming unaffordable unless you are wealthy, and wages aren’t going up. Racism, islamophobia and xenophobia are becoming relatively accepted in many circles and no one seems to care that our president lies on a regular basis, is quietly dismantling our system of government, is actively trying to impede an investigation into his conduct or that he probably paid a porn actress to keep quiet about an affair. In the past I’ve been upset about policy decisions, but this time around it’s more than being just being upset. I often wonder if this society can save itself, or if it’s already irreparably damaged. I have tried to hold on to the hope that we as a society will come out this stronger, but I doubt it more than I believe it. Because of all this worry and despair, I think it has become harder for me to feel much of anything, so when something does move me emotionally, I take note.
I ran across a story in the NY Times about a series of rediscovered pictures taken during the summer of 1978 in NYC .
Apparently there was a newspaper strike that summer, and some staff photographers spent part of the summer taking photos in the city parks. I was 3 years old in 1978, and first visited New York in the mid 90s, so I don’t have a strong emotional connection to New York but something about the photos really moved me. Perhaps it’s related to my 70s influenced melancholy or an imagined nostalgia for that time period, but move me they did. Technically, the photos were stunning, but it’s the life captured in the photos that impacted me the most. The vitality, and expressions of the people were so beautifully rendered, and perhaps looking back from Trump’s America, the sense that certain things were simpler. People aren’t absorbed in their phones, they are looking at their surroundings and interacting with each other. The photographer Joel Meyerowitz has stated that cell phones have killed the sexiness of the street. Cell phones are here to stay, but it’s sad to walk around these days and see people completely absorbed in their phones, often ignoring the people around them.
NYC in the 70s and 80s was tough, and even in the captions they mention the city being in financial ruin and everything being “busted”. I know many people were in crushing poverty and didn’t feel safe in their city, but it was moving to see that life went on, people still managed to enjoy themselves and the photographers managed to capture the beauty in that moment in time.
Along with photography, music has traditionally been a medium of inspiration for me, the banner image of this website is me listening to music through headphones! I’ve actually been in a long patch where nothing has really made a big impact on me. It isn’t that I haven’t enjoyed music, but the songs or artists that really moved me were far and few between. I was afraid I was beginning to turn into Stan Marsh from Southpark, where
all music starts sounding like shit
the diagnosis? turning into a cynical asshole
Last summer I accidentally discovered The Smith Street Band. The acoustics at the venue weren’t the best, so it was the energy that really drew me in, but on repeated listens I have been amazed by the lyrics. In general, I tend not to pay as much attention to lyrics and focus more on the music, but with this band everything comes together magically. For me it’s the beauty and the accessibility of the lyrics, and how each song creates a vivid world that I can relate to in an immediate way. Even though I never went through a heavy drinking phase and living in squats, I’ve had the hard breakups and gone through periods of depression
lyrics here. I can relate to the pain of a bad breakup and feeling disconnected and experiencing depression, and it’s somewhat heartening that the lead singer and writer, Wil Wagner, has been able to take his painful experiences and create something I find so beautiful out of them.
It’s also heartening to see that he too runs across the moments of strength gained from his friends and loved ones, and seems to keep a sense of optimism throughout it all.
I’ve often run across the sentiment that often great beauty comes from darkness. The pictures from New York, during the infamous late 70s and show that there is still beauty and light to be found when the world seems dark, and The Smith Street band show me that pain and suffering can lead to eventual release and beauty. Given the direction that this country and much of the world is going, I hope that I can hold on to the beauty around me: my wife, kids, family and friends. I hope that I can savor a beautiful sunset, the certain way the late afternoon light hits different objects in our home, or a deep and genuinely felt laugh or moment of connection. I want to appreciate what I already have and being open to discovering and sharing new sources of beauty and inspiration. And I want to create and move people the way I have been moved. A lot of things are shitty in this world right now, and it’s painful to watch what is going on. I can’t change the world as a whole, and I’m in no way perfect, but I can change how the people close to me, especially my family, experience life with me.
As Wil Wagner writes in “Shine”
And the sun will rise
In the same place every day
It would be arrogant to think
That we could change anything
Except maybe block its rays
But who would wanna do that anyway?
And I will rise
In a different place almost every day
It would be arrogant to think
That we could change anything
But if you’re here to block my rays
You’re gonna have to get the fuck outta my way
‘Cause I will shine on you
Like it was the only thing I ever wanted to do
I will shine on you
Like it was the only thing that ever mattered
And all I was put on this earth to do
I will shine on you
I’ve always looked forward to vacations and generally had a good time. Part of what kept me at my last job at the university so long was that I was given very generous amounts of paid vacation(for US standards at least). The thought of only getting 10-12 days of earned vacation was unpalatable. I decided to switch jobs anyhow, and then found out that I could transfer my accrued leave to my new position, it gave me peace of mind.
This year my vacation felt different that I felt that I really needed it. In the past I’ve looked forward to and enjoyed them for the change of pace and environment and the opportunity to spend more down time with the family, but it wasn’t the same sensation of needing that break. I’m not quite sure why this is. My job is not stressful and I get along relatively well with my colleagues, but perhaps being in an office all day makes me feel wiped out by the end of the week. Other than working in fast food while I was in high school, I haven’t really experienced this before. I feel lucky that in my work since graduate school I didn’t really feel wiped from my work. I may have been tired if I stayed up late several nights in a row to get something done, but not this sense of mounting exhaustion as the week comes to an end.
This vacation also just was a blast. When I arrived at my in-laws house that first day, I immediately felt like I was in vacation mode, as compared to most times when it takes a few days to settle in.
I surfed nearly every morning, and the conditions cooperated so the first week at least I got really enjoyable waves every day and even had a great time at Newport Beach. (Usually it’s too flat and I have to go to Huntington)There was something so invigorating about surfing good waves in the morning, then having the rest of the day open. Just being able to be active and in the water everyday felt so healing for my mind and body.
Another factor that made me enjoy it so much, as silly as it sounds, is that my girls were able to get past their fear of waves enough to finally go boogie boarding. My wife only was half joking when she said that this was a dream come true for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fortunate enough to have one (or both) of my daughters accompany me surfing, but being able to finally play with them in the waves was a delight. My older daughter has wanted to boogie board for several years now, and despite being an strong swimmer, she had always been held back by her somewhat irrational fear of waves(anything up to her ankle was too much). Since they both could it enjoy the waves more, we spent much more time at the beach than our past trips. My younger daughter isn’t a strong swimmer, but still enjoyed floating on the board and having me pushing her into waves. I was grinning like an idiot the entire time. I was finally able to share an activity that is such a huge part of my life with my daughters. I felt so alive and connected to my kids.
I came home feeling sad to say goodbye to the carefree time we’d had, as well as the warm water and fun, but feeling content, and appreciative of my how much my daughters have grown. Being more connected to them more than usual also gave me a different perspective.
In the end, I think it’s the opportunities that vacations give people to reset their internal state that I appreciate. During my normal week, it’s a rush of making lunches, taking kids somewhere, going to work, coordinating pickups , heading home, eating, putting kids to bed, maybe watching a TV show with my wife, then going to bed(usually after wasting too much time on the computer). By being able to put my work aside, and not worry about a million things I not only have the time to do the activities that I want, but also to spend more relaxed time with the kids. We went for bike rides(another new skill for my younger daughter), swimming, to get donuts, or ice cream on a few occasions, I just felt more engaged.
I’m excited that I was able to connect more with my daughters around the beach, but at the same time I’m wary of not letting this be, in my mind, the only way I can connect with them. My father-in-law who always laments that he doesn’t get enough time with my kids in order to connect with them also claims he can only connect with the kids when swimming. In other circumstances he just kind of tunes out. We all went to dinner with him and he basically ignored his daughter and grandkids and spent the whole dinner talking about an app he has been working on for years. To me it was kind of shocking, he doesn’t get to see his daughter or grandkids that much, but he just tuned them out the entire time! I don’t want to end up like that and through watching his interactions or lack of have intuitively known that I also have to engage the kids in activities that are meaningful to them.
In the end, during this last vacation to experience of sharing an activity that means a lot to me with the kids has opened my eyes or perhaps reawakened me to the pleasure of engaging more with the kids. I can come up with all sorts of excuses for why it doesn’t happen at home(e.g. they only watch TV, etc) but I want to be mindful of ways to engage with them. As they get older, hopefully their increased skills and interests will not be outweighed by the normal desire to not want to do stuff with their parents. We’ll see.
Until then, I’m pretty sure I am going to take advantage of a program where I can take a 5% paycut for an additional day of earned vacation per month. I’ll be one hour short per month of what I used to earn, but I’m think that the payback in terms of time with my family (and now the physical rest from work) are very much worth it, not to mention that I think my body will need the break!
I’m now spending my days in a stereotypical cubicle.
I started a new job a few weeks ago. After knowing that academic research wasn’t really my thing, after 12 years I left academia, and more recently “working” at home, for what I assume is a typical office environment. I put “working” in quotes, because I am realizing that I had it pretty easy the last few years. The nature of my work shifted over time so that I very rarely had reason to head into the lab in San Francisco. I did was asked of me, but it didn’t involve too much effort, and I still had plenty of time to go to appointments, help with the kids, get distracted on side projects(although I tried to stay on task) and take my regular summer and winter vacations.
Now I’m a civil servant working for the state, sitting at a desk in a grey cubicle, that I am expected to be at for 8 hours a day. The vacation earned per month is less than half of what I got at the university, and even after 30 years of working it would still not reach that same amount. A surprising amount of innocuous websites are blocked by the firewall. No personal e-mail access and anything related to sports is blocked. I also run across blocked sites frequently when looking for help with different office software. Any sort of streaming is blocked and of course all web usage should be assumed to be monitored. I hit so many blocked sites(by accident) that I’m sure I’ve been flagged or something. The positive take is that it’s much harder for me to get distracted or lost down the time-vortex known as the world wide web.
The first 2 weeks were torture since I didn’t have much to do. I tried to keep busy on some projects that the guy next to me needed help on, but that didn’t really fill too much of my time. I did manage to spend some time taking on some online tutorials on a database programming language that I inferred I would need, but a lot of the time I just felt trapped at my desk, waiting for the clock to reach the designated hour. While things have recently begun to pick up, I’m also realizing that most people around me are swamped with the amount of work they have. I might be in the sweet spot now, where I have stuff to do but don’t have any major projects of my own to stress about.
What worries me, is my seeming irritation at the constraints of a “typical job”. I dislike having to sit there even if one’s work is done. It bugs me that if I have to leave a hour or two early one day for a meeting at my child’s school, it isn’t automatically understood that I can make up that time, rather than have to use up leave. It should be fine, but the fact that it could even be an issue was mind boggling to me. I was thinking more about this, and realized that I haven’t worked 40 hours in a week for a very long time, if ever(not counting being a student). I know I prefer freedom in scheduling, but perhaps I’m not willing to put in the effort to support myself with that type of job. I’ve had a few bouts of depression since I’ve started, and my wife has commented that I seem kind of down overall.
Despite the rough start, I’m giving myself some time before I make any hard judgment on this new position. I’m not ready to say that if my bristling at the constraints is some deep core things, or if it’s just because I haven’t had to deal with before, my stint at McDonald’s in high school excluded. And despite the expectation of being swamped in the future, I’m still looking for areas where I might be able to bring my interests into the work that is asked of me. I’m currently looking into visualization of big data, and am trying to learn how to get existing data into a format compatible with Network Graphs I’m not sure it’ll be useful, or that anyone will care, but at least it gives me something that is interesting to me to do.
A few years ago if I had found myself in this position I would have become despondent. I would have felt trapped and been beating myself up for giving up my former work environment for where I am now. I miss the flexibility of my old position, and the lack of it now is adding to my wife’s stress, but there were a lot of things about that job that I didn’t like. What I’ve most learned after all these years, is that I don’t have to stay in something that I don’t like. I actually found some notes from some therapy sessions in grad school(about 14 years ago) and one of the points my therapist was trying to make at the time was that the choices I make are very rarely irreversible. That message has been to me for about 14 years, but it’s only recently that it’s begun to sink in. It’s a lot easier to keep going and be curious (despite the frustrations and bouts of depression) about my new job when I know I can quit or find something else if I decide to.
So, even though I long for the weekends in a way that I never have before, I’m still trying to keep my curiosity alive and learn what I can in my new position. Not only about the work itself, but also the experience of working in what to me is a radically new environment. I’m enjoying not having to drive or BART into San Francisco,I read about some horrendous BART delays last week, but rather riding my bike. In the 3 weeks since I’ve started biking it no longer hurts to sit on the bike saddle, and I can make it up all the way the big hill heading home. It’s a very short ride so I’m still not getting the exercise I need but it’s something, and I enjoy it. I was able to transfer my unused sick and vacation leave from the university to my state job, which gives me a buffer at puts me more at ease. It’s also nice not taking work home with me, scheduling around the girls is difficult, but when I’m home I’m done (other than catching up on my personal e-mails). All in all, it’s important for me to remember that every job will have its advantages and disadvantages, and perhaps I’ll come to value the advantages of this job. Hell, it may even be time to decorate my cubicle.
It was a fruit tree that kicked off the internal housing debate this year. Fall is probably my favorite time of the year, as I’ve mentioned before, and Hachiya persimmons are a symbol of it’s onset. There’s something very poetic about the fruit(technically berries) turning from green to orange as the leaves of the tree go from green to brown and eventually drop. I’m not referring to Fuyu persimmons, that you can slice up like an apple, but the ones that have to be really mushy, like a sack of jelly before you eat them or your gums feel dried out and nasty for a few hours. There is something about the forced wait to enjoy those that mirrors the idea of waiting for fall and for all that comes. Those are the ones I was taught to love by my mom when we lived in Davis.
Recently we were up in the Berkeley Hills at an acquaintance’s house and besides a great view of the bay, they had an enormous Hachiya persimmon tree abutting the two levels of deck at the back of the house. I suddenly missed having fruit trees like we did at the two houses I lived in with my parents throughout my life. The idea of being able to have fruit trees triggered this ongoing debate I’ve had in my head for years. On one hand is the notion of having a place that is “ours”, where we could arrange as we wanted inside and out, and plant fruit trees or whatever in the yard. On top of that the notion of having some sort of security in housing is appealing. On the other hand is the knowledge that it’s incredibly expensive to own a home, with the insurance, taxes, upkeep, etc. Furthermore, in a fictional scenario where we could actually afford to buy a home in the bay area, all of our savings would be tied up in the house! I’d be much more stressed than I am now about keeping my job, and probably wouldn’t have as much wiggle room to look for other careers.
After some reflection and discussion with my coach, I’ve to understand that the core desire was for a feeling of comfort or cozyness, perhaps wanting to feel safe. Growing up, home always felt safe, and I associate a home with a sense of comfort and safety. Since we can’t afford a house in the bay area, my task for these weeks has been to figure out how to make my current living situation feel more cozy and comfortable.
I had some ideas on where to start(the living room), but then the election of 2016 happened and kind of derailed all that. Now it seems harder to find much comfort anywhere. I’ve been preoccupied worrying about the increase in hate crimes, the threats to reproductive rights, the environment, social safety net programs and maybe even the survival of the US as we know it. I ran across a terrifying article: “ Autocracy:Rules for Survival“, which raised the realm of possibilities for the incoming administration. I’ve discussed the implications of all of this with a friend from graduate school and he, thank goodness, has acted as a calm reassuring voice. He’s optimistic that the democratic institutions of this country will be enough to survive and repel an attempted establishment of an autocracy. I want to be as confident as him and listen to the voices saying that it was only campaign rhetoric but he, like most of the polls and media, was convinced what happened couldn’t. Still, I hope. I put on a good face to keep the kids feeling okay, but I’m really scared inside.
Coming back to the persimmons, it turns out my sister’s co-worker brought a bunch to work, which she in turn brought to me, and there are more should I want them. I’ve pureed most of them and ate a few out of hand, luckily most my wife and kids are a bit leery of the texture so I get them all to myself! Basically, it turns out I don’t actually need the tree.
I’m beginning to come out of shell shock from the election and for “comfort” have started wearing a robe around the house in the morning. I’ve also started thinking about ways of making the living room more comfortable again. No obvious answers yet, but the desire is there. As far as owning a house, I know it’s impossible right now. I’m actually a bit more comfortable having our money more “liquid” vs having it tied up in a house. As my friend wrapped up our discussion, if an autocracy were actually established here there wouldn’t be much to depend on but “passports and money”. Hopefully we as a country make it through okay, but if things go from bad to worse I may be looking for persimmons in another country.
The men’s bathrooms during my tenure at Berkeley tended to be very interesting places. At first I couldn’t figure out why the stalls made of marble or similar material tended to have holes carved in them. At some point it was explained to me that they were Glory holes . They were often plugged up with toilet paper, so it wasn’t intimidiating, but it seemed kind of crazy to me why were there. Then there was the one time a guy decided to leave the stall door open. I heard him sit down, but couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t closed the door until I went to wash my hands at the sinks opposite the stalls and saw that he was publicly masturbating. It was such an unexpected turn of events that I quickly left after washing my hands, but I was more amazed than anything else. It turns out this particular bathroom was a known anonymous sex spot. On the less steamy side, many bathrooms had sayings written in the grout between the tiles. The idea was usually to take a known saying and replace a word with “grout”. An example could be instead of Tears for Fears’ song lyrics “Shout, Shout, let it all out” they would have written “Grout, Grout, let it all out”. (Completely coincidental selection as an example, but very apropos for a bathroom setting!) They tended to make for interesting and entertaining reading and helped pass the time. I’m actually curious if grout writings have decreased with the rise of cell phones.
Despite the adventure and humor in many other bathrooms, my mind recently came back to the small bathroom, not used by the student population in general, that was in the lab where I worked. The building that housed the lab and bathroom was a bit older and consisted of concrete floors and walls with drywall making a few small office areas on the edges of the wide open floor plan. The bathroom itself was also antiquated and cramped, with the institutional metallic walls for the one stall(no point carving out glory holes there), a tiny window that let in a hint of light if anything, an old looking urinal and a matching old fashioned porcelain faucet and powdered soap dispenser.
The most memorable feature for me is the vent. Since the small window didn’t do too much for ventilation, most of the fresh air came out from vent, and it came out hard and fast. What made it memorable was that it was pointed directly at the single toilet. The urinal was no big deal, but using the toilet itself was a bit more complicated. For the 2 years that I worked there, I don’t think I ever managed to get a toilet seat cover to stay on. Invariably, when I had to use the toilet, I would squeeze my way into the stall, close the door, grab a toilet seat cover(or toilet paper if there were no more covers), lay it on the seat, turn around to sit and realize that the cover or paper had been blown off. This led to an awkward dance of laying one piece of toilet paper on one side, sitting down on that same side while lifting the other, trying to get a strip of paper on the other side of the seat and sitting on it before it blew off. These days I probably wouldn’t even bother with the paper, seeing as how it wasn’t a widely used bathroom, but back then it seems I was pretty adamant about having protection on the seat. What surprised me then and now, was that I always seemed to forget that the vent WAS going to blow any covering off the seat before I was able to sit. Perhaps it was because no other bathroom on campus gave me such problems, or maybe it was just some part of my brain that wouldn’t store that crucial bit of information.
I’ve been in some sort of therapy or another for years and years. Even though I’ve made substantial gains in a lot of areas in my life, when feeling down I often feel like I haven’t made any progress. As usual my ongoing issues with finding a better fit for my career is a trigger of sorts and an area in particular where I often feel that I am stuck, and not learning from my mistakes or at least not changing my behaviors enough to make a substantial difference. I tend to succumb to the same triggers and thought patterns again and again. The vent+stall+toilet paper scenario seems like a very good analogy to my situation. Here, rather than dealing with a vent blowing off my toilet seat cover, I have some sort of inner process which ends up blowing my confidence or energy to take on new projects or search out new careers right out from under me. It often seems I have an idea of something I might want to do, but as I am turning around and getting ready to pursue it, this inner process blows it away, then I am left trying to juggle my responsibilities and desires with an awkward dance (and some avoidance).
Coming back to the toilet analogy, while I writing this blog I started wondering what if instead of trying to remember an awkward process of holding down the paper in the line of a strong torrent of air, I changed where the air was flowing? In theory, I could have, temporarily at least, attached a piece of cardboard up near the vent to direct the air elsewhere. In reality it would have been taken down by custodial services, but I like the image; I could have fashioned some clip on device that I would place on the vent before trying to get the toilet ready. Then all I would have needed to remember was the deflector.
In my life the trick is finding out what the deflector for the negative thoughts and doubts are especially when it comes to feeling stuck around my career search. When it comes to depression in general I recently rediscovered, after forgetting for the millionth time perhaps, that doing some physical activity acts as a deflector for the depressive thoughts. Since my last post, I’ve had at least two instances where I realized I was feeling depressed and rather than go and lay in bed alone, in the dark, I went out and did some sort of exercise. When I got back, I felt better and had basically been able prevent the depression from taking a stronger hold.
While I’m not sure how to apply the “deflector” idea to my career quest, at least the image is very clear for me: if my career fears are the vent, and making progress is the act of getting to sit on a paper-protected toilet seat, it’s time to stop trying to remember what do when I’m the direct line of the air, and find some way to move it aside or divert it long enough for me to sit down. Either way, it’s probably better than whatever the life analogy is of unexpectedly finding out the person in the stall next to you wants to take advantage of the glory hole!
I have often found that lessons learned while surfing(or at least while waiting for waves) have translated to issues outside of the water. Unfortunately I haven’t been in the water much recently. I did however start working on repairing my old stereo receivers again, and found that there were lessons to be learned there as well.
One of my “issues” regarding work and career, which usually metastasizes to other areas, is the belief that I can’t stick with things long enough or focus hard enough to get anything meaningful done. The initial thought of “I don’t have the willpower to push through anything” leads to “It’s not my work that’s the problem, it’s me!” which eventually leads to me concluding that I am totally screwed. I’ve had periods where I have been able to recognize that these thoughts aren’t true and that I could point to areas in my life where I did stick with something long enough to get a result I was proud of. However, these moments are usually fleeting or I tell myself that they don’t really count.
Overall I’ve been doing better recently. I’m still on a low low dose of Wellbutrin, and it seems to be helping. I feel less anxious about my future, more content with my skills and talents at work and not beating myself up as much. However, I’ve still worried from time to time about my lack of determination or resolve. Working on my receiver this past week has shown me that that I can in fact overcome obstacles and persevere with something when I find it interesting enough. It also serves as a reminder that my wife and coach aren’t just being nice when they say that I CAN stick through things.
I haven’t worked on stereo equipment for a few years now. My last project was fixing up a Pioneer SX-737 for a friend, and even posted about it. My stereo had been working fine, and I was distracted with other activities, so my other vintage equipment just sat gathering dust. Then, maybe a year ago my receiver started losing a channel. Initially I could fix it by wiggling the volume knob, but it got to the point where it was consistently only playing through one speaker. I felt that I was too busy to start digging into it at that moment. I also felt overwhelmed thinking about all the steps required to fix the thing: troubleshooting, scouring the internet for replacement parts, making a list, making substitutions for unavailable parts, ordering the parts, taking things apart, removing old components, putting the new ones in and finally closing everything back up. It so happened that I had a modern A/V receiver on hand that a friend had given me, so I just hooked that up and took my old stereo receiver up to the attic.
Things were okay for a bit, but at some point I realized that I really didn’t like the sound from the new stereo. Even though I don’t normally play music very loudly, the A/V receiver seemed to lack power and any sort of oommph. The music sounded okay, but it was lacking something. To put it simply, I just found it underwhelming. I finally got fed up enough to bring my old stereo back down and start to dig into it. I had originally thought that the problem was with the phono(record player) channel, but it turned out to be the volume knob. Since it’s nearly impossible to find a replacement knob for this unit I decided to see if I could fix it. I mustered up my courage, removed the knob from the Printed Circuit Board(PCB) and then mustered up even more courage to take the thing apart. I cleaned it as best as I could, put it back together and back in the unit. To my surprise and joy both channels were playing cleanly! I was relieved to have fixed the problem(and not destroyed the volume knob) and also encouraged by my success with a repair.
Being able to fix one unit encouraged me to revisit the first unit I ever started working on, a Pioneer Sx-838. I found it many years ago in a pile of bulky waste on the curb, given the dates of manufacture, that thing is just about as old as I am. At the time of discovery, I had found some initial problems and with the help, from the forums at audiokarma.org , had done some first pass repairs. They helped a bit but hadn’t really fixed the problems and I was pulled in other directions so it went into storage. After my repair of the volume knob of my other receiver, I pulled the Pioneer back out and started putting it through the normal tests. I found some of the old problems as well as some new ones. I wanted to start repairing it but found myself hesitating once again on making and ordering a parts list. However, after stalling for a couple of weeks I finally took the plunge and spent some time looking for information and making the parts list. I started back in on the repairs and realized that I had actually learned a lot since my last go at this receiver. I found that some of my soldering had been done poorly, and that I ignored parts I should have replaced the first time around. I also learned some new desoldering skills in the process of working on it again. I finished the first part of the repair the other night, and for the first time since I’ve had the unit, I was able to play music through it and not hear any hiss in the background! Emboldened by yet another success, I am updating other parts of this receiver that don’t deal directly with sound, but should make the unit live a longer life. I’m also trying to decide which of my other units will be my next project!
I didn’t realize this at first(only after some proofreading), but that A/V receiver is the perfect analogy for my job. Both involved chance encounters, both consisted of safe backups I knew I had, so I didn’t work too hard or spend the time and energy to go through the process of fixing up the one I really liked or wanted. Like that A/V receiver, my job is “fine”, some would even argue I am lucky to have it. It pays the bills, is convenient and has some really nice perks. I’m even able to enjoy it from time to time. However, deep down I know it is not doing it for me. I want to feel some power and excitement when I play the music that is my life, I can tell there is a difference between just getting the job done, and getting it done with gusto and emotion. Getting to this more powerful job/living is going to require my pushing through a lot initial resistance, but hopefully life and music will end up sounding much better.
Once I’m done with the repairs, my plan is to give this receiver a turn as my main stereo. Along with providing me with energizing sound and serving as proof that I have the determination to see things through and end up at a better place, I hope it will serve as a constant reminder that settling for what is easy and on hand to get the job probably won’t give me the joy I seek. Now I need to find the motivation to start getting up early and back in the water!
We recently got back from our usual summer vacation down to Southern California. I got to rest, catch up on some movies, spend time with the family, and watch the kids swim and play with their cousins. My daughters are starting to seem so much more grown up all of a sudden given the new activities they can do. My older daughter has been riding a bike for a couple of years now, but usually is very nervous and scared to go fast. On this trip she was riding much faster and confidently than usual. My younger daughter has improved a lot in swimming, up to where she can kind of float on her back, and can go underwater and is also doing much better on the bike with training wheels.
As part of this growing up my eldest has begun to start listing all the things she wants and begins to get unhappy that she doesn’t have them. Some of these things are typical kid things like certain clothes or toys, but others include the desire for us to own a house in Berkeley (rather then rent in Oaklnd)and for us to buy a car with a 3rd row so “mommy” can drive her and a bunch of friends around. It’s humorous, but I think also illuminating. It helped me realize how I deal with my desires can affect my mood.
On my trips down south, I try to go for an early morning surf session as often as I can. The conditions are more consistent down there, and I have more time to go than at home. I find that these sessions serve as the fuel for my day and also helps me keep my surfing ability up. Spending time in the water gives me a chance to slow down and ponder my life and run across new ideas and insights. This time around if felt different. I was able to enjoy my surroundings, but the surfing itself didn’t give me energy, moreover it left me feeling frustrated. This went on for almost 2 weeks.
Analyzing it a bit I have come to believe that, like my daughter, I was letting my desire for something bring me down. In my case, I wanted to be a better surfer. I felt horribly limited by, what I found to be diminished, abilities. I wanted to pick better waves, be more aware of what the wave was doing and respond in an appropriate fashion. I wanted to be able to go across the wave rather than just make the drop then find myself surrounded by white water. I wanted to be in better shape and not get winded so easily. So many wants!
All this wanting left me frustrated and very unfulfilled. This in turn started a downwards spiral in which I felt that since I would never have enough access to the ocean to improve my skills then I would always be stuck and frustrated. Therefore, I should consider giving up surfing. Then I got knocked underwater and found that my ability to hold my breath seemed much reduced relative to even a few months ago, and then I started beating myself about getting so out of shape. My ongoing back issues(and a new sprain after surfing) just added to the misery. It sounds ridiculous reading it now as I write it, but at the time the thoughts felt very real and strong.
One of the tenets of Buddhism that I ran across in my reading up on mindfulness a few years ago is that attachment is often the root of suffering. It turns out upon further investigation that it is one of the three poisons of Buddhism. It often gets mistranslated as desire is the root of suffering, but I think it helps to keep the two clear. To me, attachment is fixating on a particular desire. I can want to be a better surfer; if I can acknowledge that thought,and let it pass, then it doesn’t affect me too much. However, if I fixate on that thought,and keep coming back to it, I can get very depressed.
On some level I was aware of this, and was able to prevent the negative thoughts from taking a complete hold. I kept telling myself that these were just negative thoughts and that the feeling would pass. It kept happening, but I kept going out when my back would allow it. Towards the end of the trip, I went out on a smaller day and actually managed to have a good time. I think I wasn’t too worked up about making the most of the waves, since they didn’t look as good as the previous days, my expectations were lowered and I was able to have more fun rather than beat myself up for not having caught that last gorgeous wave.
On our return, it kind of hit me what a great trip we’d had as a family. We spent a lot of time together, survived the drive there and back (a first), had a great time in Catalina, where my older daughter overcame her fear of the ocean and went snorkeling with me. We got to see a bunch of the famous Garibaldi and various other fishes. I arrived much more energized at work, eager to follow up on projects and get things done. Even if the surfing hadn’t provided the usual energy, the time with the family certainly did.
I was reading the latest issue of the excellent magazine,Surfer’s Journal (my neighbor gave me a subscription for my birthday),and ran across a column in which the author expressed the view that surfing doesn’t have to be about finding the “perfect” wave or having the perfect ride. At its core, surfing should be about catching a wave and having fun. During this trip it seems that I forgot to enjoy the basics, and got caught up in the things I couldn’t do well. I still would like to improve my surfing skills. I’m not sure where the time for that is going to come from, and how exactly that will happen, but I will try to focus on finding the basic joys in life in the meantime. I’d like to teach that lesson to my daughter somehow. There are so many things that she will want in life and not get, I’d like for her to be able to not let those desires overwhelm her. Rather, I’d like for her to focus on the joys right in front of her, even if it’s something small like racing as fast as she can on her bike.
I turned 40 last month. 40! My wife organized a wonderful party for me which ended with me, my sister and some close friends I have known since high school around a firepit at 2:00 in the morning, feeling full from paella, beer, s’mores and friendship. My wife kept texting my sister to tell her we were being too loud. 40. I’ve probably lived more than half of my life already. 40. Aren’t I supposed to have figured out my life by now?
40… One part of me finds it very scary, and I start worrying that career-wise I have wasted a lot of my life pursuing something that is not a good fit for me. On the other hand, other than the aches and pains that are more common than a few years ago, I don’t feel all the different. In the months leading up to my birthday, I had several people, mostly in their 60s it seems, independently tell me that 40 was young, and a lot of people they knew hit their stride in their 40s. My hope is to use that fear of having wasted a lot of my life and the optimism that I have more to come, in order to change my life and career. I want to not only find more meaningful work, or at least my make my current work more meaningful, but also be able to step back from the stress and annoyances and appreciate my family and life more fully. Tall order, but if this my mid-life crisis, I want to do something useful with it.
My eldest daughter has taught me something about aging as well. She’s about to turn 8. Behavior-wise, it has been a particularly rough few months, It’s been hard for both me and my wife. My daughter has been increasingly oppositional, has had issues with feeling bullied at school, and in turn has taken some of that out on her younger sister. With me, almost anything I say is greeted with eye rolls, or looks of extreme disgust and hate or just plain screaming in irritation. In addition, the slightest request is greeted with “You are sooo MEAN!” which often devolves into saying how much she hates me. I can usually let it roll off my back, but experiencing it over and over and over again allows that antagonism to sink in. With all of this behavior, I tend to think of her more as a teenager, and often forget that she is really so young.
It was in the midst of this, that I ran across a new teddy bear she had made at the mall laying on the floor of her room. It’s extremely pink, and she spent her own money to buy it a little dress. I found it so girly and young, that I was suddenly yanked out of the past few months and was able to see my daughter as the really young girl that she is. I could see her behavior as a coping mechanism for the discomforts she is going through in life. My wife had been telling me this for sometime, but it wasn’t until the teddy bear that it finally clicked. I also remembered the observation made by our couple’s therapist (our daughter’s behavior has been a major stressor in my marriage) that I am usually the only one who can get her to fall asleep(she has chronic insomnia). It doesn’t make the behavior any better, but it gives me something to hold onto when she is telling me how much she doesn’t like me. Being the only one to get her to fall asleep can be inconvenient, but I know in a few years time I will look back wistfully at our youthful 40 and 8 years of age, when I could lay next to her, scratch her back and watch my daughter fall asleep.