ReLo Angst

no telling when i would have sat down ...

2009-02-22T22:42:00.000-08:00

(from my open mic talk about jengyee at her feb 22 memorial service)

thank you for this opportunity to share with you the slice of life i experienced with jengyee. my name is shirlsd. jengyee and i met through the Student Alumni Mentorship Program (SAMP) at U.C. Berkeley. as an alumna, i wittingly knew that, when jengyee chose me, i would have a captive audience for my college and career experience musings. although our college majors differed - she in IEOR and me in ChemE, we expressed a similar passion about environmental issues. after several random talks about environmental-related careers, roommates, places to hang out in berkeley, and dance places in san francisco (which was scary to find out that the same places still existed after 20 years!), our mentor-mentee talks quickly evolved into heartfelt conversations about enjoying life and making a difference in the world. it was during one conversation that jengyee became my mentor - she inspired me to develop a more formal and thoughtful summer internship program for my consulting practice.

the slice of life i feel honored to share with you is about my experience with the evolution of “hello real world” – jengyee’s book. after spending a little time talking with mr. liang last night, i decided to share something a little different than what i had originally planned to share, with the hopes that this slice brings to life one of the many facets of jengyee.

the following is the sentiment she wrote in this very book …

“shirlsd, wow! what a journey!! thanks for being the impetus behind this book. no telling when i would have sat down to document my experiences without your initial suggestion and continued support. may this book bring you many amazing internship moments. jengyee liang. 2.28.06.”

a little bit about my journey with jengyee – regarding her book, amazing internship moments. and my personal transformation from the words ... “no telling when i would have sat down … ”.

being able to put my finger specifically on the moment
12-27-2004. 3:38 pm
this is the date and time when jengyee started writing about her internship experiences. she and i were talking on the phone over her christmas holiday break to catch-up on life – school, business, interns, social life, music, boys, family – the normal stuff. by this time, our cal student-mentor tenure had already ended, and yet we chose to stay in touch. and in fact, i don't know if it was a choice so much as it just was what it felt it needed to be.

she was expressing some frustration over hoping to have a productive internship experience. long story short, i encouraged her to simply journal. write thoughts down – good, bad, happy, sad, indifferent, doodle – whatever just seemed to automatically flow … then call me or send something over in a couple days or so. in fact, i did the same thing – as a business owner who wanted to make sure that any internship experience i offered would be at least somewhat fulfilling as jengyee would hope to have for any students' experiences. me? i came up with 1 page. jengyee - more than 5 pages, single-spaced. little did we know that what started as a cathartic moment between two girlfriends ultimately would result in her book, “hello real world”.

jengyee and i continued to exchange ideas. and while doing so, jengyee asked if one of my interns, margaret, would read the beginnings of jengyee’s internship guide, which is how it originally was starting out – not quite a book, yet.

fast forward nearly 10 months later
september of 2005
margaret shared with jengyee her perspectives and comments. and as i’m sure you all know, jengyee was very thankful and took to heart and mind much of what margaret offered. and as with margaret’s input, jengyee continued seeking input not only from margaret but also from other friends, mentors, and colleagues. (just as was mentioned earlier by jesse about his friend, tom). suffice to say, jengyee not only continued to refine her writing, she decided she would see about formally publishing a book.

3 months later
December 2005
jengyee asked me to write the foreword. i’ll refrain from reading it here for now and will simply say that i was simply honored to do so.

finally, for one of my "no telling when i would have sat down ..." moments
the next month
january 2006
i started a blog - at the encouragement of jengyee … chronicling the experience of one of my interns - affectionately known as "reality: intern". in fact, it was an intern whom jesse introduced to me.

i’ll stop at this point – so you know that the matter of fact manner of which i’m describing my friendship with jengyee clearly was more than tasks, dates, times, telephone calls, e-mails, etc. my friendship, and i’m sure as with your friendship and memories of her, have been about sharing life’s moments and evolving from even the simplest of statements -

“no telling when i would have sat down … ” moments.

it is this sentiment that i often carry and share when faced with life's occasional curve balls and many competing interests.

then i remember and remind myself - take the opportunity to occasionally sit down a bit, take deep breaths ... and do so especially with the encouragement of a friend -

“no telling when i would have sat down … ”

thank you for letting me share this sentiment with you, again, and with that, i'm sure we all look forward to others' memories of jengyee. and thank you to mr. liang and mrs. liang for letting us have this opportunity.

let me believe

2009-02-03T20:44:00.001-08:00

let me believe that it is different
something is different
we are different

it is nearly two years since the last time you chose not to call
even though i believed you because you said you would call,
since i left you a message you chose not to return
even though i believed friendship would prevail,
since a painful moment i brought upon us
even though we have never spoken about it.
i do not have to believe
because i know
that two years ago, we experienced our own grief
when i asked you to remove you - your passion - from my home.
the sadness in my heart went unnoticed
as it was overshadowed by your quiet anger.

let me believe my feelings are different
something is different
you are different

it is less than one year since you chose to e-mail me.
your note? i believed it was a simple, benevolent gesture
even though only you knew your intentions.
i do not have to believe
because i know
that the moment i watched you walk toward my doorstep
was the moment i realized i chose well.
my acceptance of your gesture went unnoticed
as i chose to forgo my healing for your companionship.

let me believe that i can heal
something is different
i am different

it is tonight, more than one week since you chose not to call
even though i believed you - just because.
it is tonight, not more than one day since i chose to call you,
as i have done so since, daily.
on this night, i chose to leave you a message,
not reminiscent of two years ago,
because something is different,
we are different.
tonight i asked that we talk, that we share, that we listen.
and on this night, as i recount my sadness, your anger,
my acceptance, your touch,
i remember that i have a choice,
that you have a choice.
even though we may never talk about this,
i accept that you may not call
because tomorrow,
something will be different.

let me believe that i will choose
that i have chosen
that i am different
i do not have to believe
because i know

draft ... recycled air

2009-01-30T23:10:00.000-08:00

just starting this one - so far ... (01/30/09)v6

Last winter, they spoke at arm’s length. This spring, they sat shoulder to shoulder. When she turned to the right, she traced his hairline with her brown eyes, as she had done so the night before. Did he notice? With Kyle's boyish smile, he continued his storytelling. Suddenly, he stopped talking when the doors closed. She? Sarah pulled away and faced the meal tray, still unsure of why he chose her. He began to speak again, but she could only hear a few words. Then he spoke louder over the background noise. Though she heard every syllable, she still leaned toward him. He smiled. “This is great. Tomorrow we’ll be looking across an ocean,” Kyle said.

When the recycled air began, he leaned toward Sarah with his eyes closed. He knowingly crossed the invisible boundary that Sarah claimed as her space where she dreamt of tomorrow, while guarding today’s insecurities – the space that was once occupied only by one. He kissed her forehead and then her temple, whispering, “Sweets, I hate this part. Hold my hand, please.” She smiled, as she looked toward her lap and watched her hand disappear into his. Then, with his chin on her shoulder, he said with relief, “Thanks, that’s much better.” He rhythmically exhaled and inhaled – each breath formed a familiar cadence – drowning the roar of the jet engine. While he allowed her to comfort his insecurities, he openly sought to understand her better than she would ever know herself. This was when she began to share her space.

“While you get our luggage and gear, I'll look for the rental car shuttle stop. And then I'll call the hotel to make sure they have our reservations. Dinner will be at ..."

"Dear, shhhhh, please." Kyle kissed the back of her hand. "They are going over the safety and emergency instructions. It's just a few minutes. Let's listen and talk afterwards." He was always good about listening, especially if he was in a new place or a new setting. This, Sarah understood, was part of Kyle's presence of being.

i made a major decision to return to government

2007-09-23T12:10:00.000-07:00

... with the prelude of activities before day 1 and unfolding like this.

and with this very unexpected, unplanned, unimaginable (for some amongst my family & friends), and unbelievable change, this quips blog will include perspectives, thoughts, and just whatever about this change. this change simply goes as follows:

started with the government near 20 yrs ago in jan '87 after graduating from college; left the government in july '88
have since been in consulting and industry (public utility), spanning ~ 7 years
have been a business owner since nov '94
started up again with the government sept '07, with limits around any outside employment (conflicts and all - real and perceived/appearance)

so a few thoughts with which to start out:

authenticity & covering - i think about this more and more, lately. comments have been made - in passing, mostly - given some perspectives that one's profession defines one's values. perhaps that is the case for those afforded the ability to seek and for those with the desire to obtain a job that allows his/her expression of his/her values. conversely, for some, a job is simply a job - a set of duties, responsibilities, etc.
- judgement
- stereotyping/profiling
- self-expression
- mission/vision
structure - the structure of a traditional 8-hour work day is very different from my prolonged weaving-in-and-out an 8-hour work day. in fact, i find the 8-hour tradition much more tiring effort, at least for the first week. that is, over the course of what appears a 12-14 hour work day with my own business, i extract the 6-8 + hours of billable (and/or non-billable) work amidst a yoga class, shopping, lunch, kickboxing, reading, power-napping, pedicure, whatever.

body's natural rhythm
authority
cubicle existence

business ownership undone - it is apples and oranges to compare the two. i know there are many-many-many books about the joys of leaving corporate america to pursue business ownership/self-employment. i'd like to see what

civil service as a noble effort
transferring & exchanging knowledge
learning new things

never say never - i did. look where i am now .. when i had once said i never would ever be once again.

clichés may mean something

social life unfolds - living in the suburb of union city and working in san francisco certainly will affect my social life. as i left on the voice mail message to my friend reggie on day 1 when i drove in to work with a few books and heavy items for my cubicle existence, "i am boy crazy! i dig that i'm at a stop light, so i can watch [the boys] cross the street."

dating
faves galore to explore - restaurants, stores, boutiques, galleries, events, parking lots, etc.
reconnecting - lots of old friends work & live in the city

just naming a few for now

(a link to): reflecting ...

2007-06-24T12:53:00.001-07:00

contemplative thought on a life moment

[click pic or q]

what is our friendship all about?

r|thoughts: transferring to rcat bridges ...

2007-05-22T15:42:00.000-07:00

... for thoughts on whatever has been/is being awakened
as a result of this experience.

since then, i have a few books (so far) to read/check-out. and i picked up (thanks kevberk)the autobiography of benjamin franklin and colin mcginn's the making of a philosopher: my journey through twentieth-century philosophy.

so head over to
rcat bridges
if this journey of awakening is of interest

there is a book or two ... or more

2007-05-17T23:51:00.000-07:00

... that exist! i want them.

and how is this first book described at amazon.com?

Race and Epistemologies of Ignorance
From the Back Cover
Offering a wide variety of philosophical approaches to the neglected philosophical problem of ignorance, this groundbreaking collection builds on Charles Mills's claim that racism involves an inverted epistemology, an epistemology of ignorance. Contributors explore how different forms of ignorance linked to race are produced and sustained and what role they play in promoting racism and white privilege. They argue that the ignorance that underpins racism is not a simple gap in knowledge, the accidental result of an epistemological oversight. In the case of racial oppression, ignorance often is actively produced for purposes of domination and exploitation. But as these essays demonstrate, ignorance is not simply a tool of oppression wielded by the powerful. It can also be a strategy for survival, an important tool for people of color to wield against white privilege and white supremacy. The book concludes that understanding ignorance and the politics of such ignorance should be a key element of epistemological and social/political analyses, for it has the potential to reveal the role of power in the construction of what is known and provide a lens for the political values at work in knowledge practices.

Contributors include Linda MartÃn Alcoff, Alison Bailey, Robert Bernasconi, Lorraine Code, Harvey Cormier, Stephanie Malia Fullerton, Sarah Lucia Hoagland, Frank Margonis, Charles W. Mills, Lucius T. Outlaw (Jr.), Elizabeth V. Spelman, Shannon Sullivan, Paul C. Taylor, and Nancy Tuana.

oh. my. god. epistemology of ignorance. epistemology - branch of philosophy ... that studies the nature of knowledge, its presuppositions and foundations, and its extent and validity. ignorance ... the condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.

i am soooo excited about this. don't yet know all the reasons why, but i am.

and then a couple of books by wendell berry. so i'm quite interested in seeing where this reading jaunt will take me.

meanwhile, i do still have to finish reading covering (k. yoshino) and who really cares (a. brooks).

r|thoughts: on my foreigner

2007-05-15T00:28:00.001-07:00

i wrote this little short story, my foreigner. my intent? to write. to express a recent event in my life. to share my disappointment and surprise.

when i shared this story with friends, the responses ranged from "are you serious?" (e.g., disbelief) to "what a dick head!" (e.g., anger). as a result, i've found myself reiterating the intent of the story to my friends - letting them know i wrote the story to emphasize that it was my becoming aware of his ignorance, which i intended to express. i've tried to figure out edits - edits to elicit a reader's first response of "wow, that is kinda ignorant!" or "what a bummer to find that out about him!" or "i wonder if he knew what he was saying?!" - basically, elicit a reader's response that, preferably, did not involve anger.

inevitably, several conversations have resulted, with expressions and feedback - disappointment, shock, ignorance, confusion, profiling, patriotism, family upbringing, values, conservatism, liberalism, being american, and racism, to name just a few.

in the story, i wrote, "and that was when i realized i knew what ignorant meant." and in fact, it was that moment - actually, one of two memorable moments for me that evening, that i felt like i had been kicked in the gut - in the heart, even. i felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. there i was, in a relationship with a man that i wanted to continue getting to know. for the time i had spent with him, i thought of him as funny, witty, caring, pensive, interesting, intense, law-abiding, nostalgic, intelligent, creative, opinionated, impatient, complex, and several other characteristics. conversations with him always were enjoyable and dynamic. i always felt encouraged to have open, honest, and shared conversations.

however, at that moment in his apartment, i remember having some sort of unexplainable response, while i was sitting there. i just wanted to leave politely. i didn't want to share my thoughts with him. i wasn't sure why i felt that way. now? i have continued to ponder. so some thoughts -

ignorance ... confusion ... disappointment ... disbelief ... uncertainty ... surprise ... discovery ... sadness ... shock ...

will revisit these thoughts later.

my foreigner

2007-05-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

story is over here

[thanks in advance for visiting]

remembering my Dad ...

2007-04-09T02:35:00.000-07:00

[as it has been 5 years ... from april 23, 2002 eulogy]

Thank you all for coming to share this moment with my family, with our extended family, and with our friends. Many of you have had the chance to know my Mom (Lucy), my younger brother (Patrick), me, and my Dad - while others may have had a chance to get to know only one of us.

But I do believe that by knowing any of the four of us, you all have - in one way or another - had a chance to get to know my Dad ... either through direct interaction with him, through the stories we related to one another about him, or through the personality traits and values that Mom, Pat, and I hold true.

And because this is a time to remember my Dad, I'm sure many of you have memories about Dad that you, too, can relate. So I hope to share with you my story in a way that, at the end of the day, we can all speak about my Dad and celebrate our special memories of him with each other.

So I'll start by sharing my story ... (and I should let you all know that I actually practiced this 2 times, so I hope to get through this - and I believe that the 3rd time is a charm, so here I go) ...

Several of my friends have often said to me, "Your folks are cool!!!" or "Your Dad is a cool dude!" I'd look at them oddly and politely say, "Uh ... cool Dad?! Yeah? I guess Dad's cool." And then I'd also say "Thanks."

So now, I've thought to myself about this ... I guess he's cool ... I mean - he has those "Dad" traits!
. He patiently shops with my Mom at the mall.
. He's nearly 2-1/2 hours early at the airport gate for any airline departure.
. He does the "Jumble Word" puzzle in the newspaper and calls me to let me know he solved the puzzle in record time.
. He listens to Talk Radio, and we debate about the politics of the nation and the world.
. He finds three pennies on one of his daily morning walks and adds it to his grandkids' coin jars.
. Even when he leaves the room from chitchat or a longer-winded story, sometimes his after-shave lingers just a little longer.
. He always reminds me to check my car tires, oil and gasoline for even the shortest of travels.
. He plays golf and has quite the collection of golf shirts and golf balls.
. He politely smiles when I tell him the virtues of a caffe latté, while he proudly drinks Folger's.
. He goes to Church and supports the Parish.

Dad is Dad -
. He has learned that shopping can be fun with Mom.
. He is very punctual.
. He has a way with words and keeps his mind active.
. He has a conservative bent to his politics.
. He loves his grandchildren.
. He leaves an impression on people, even if it's his chitchat and after-shave.
. He is concerned for his child's safety.
. He likes to spend time on the golf course.
. He has the patience to let me be a foo-foo coffee drinker.
. And he is a religious man.
Dad is Dad - and I guess he is cool ...?

Then I thought about this a little more. I don't have to justify what makes my Dad a cool Dad. It has been staring me in the face all my life.

I don't have to tell a long story to hopefully inspire you all to share your memories about my Dad.

And at the end of the day, the short version of my story that I want to relate to you is that my Dad is a totally cool person. Whether he got the first boarding pass at the airport gate or knows the history of American politics and current events from the perspective of a proud American - more than I have ever comprehended, Dad is cool because he is a thoughtful person, a proud and loving man, and most importantly, though he has left us in this world and asks us to accept that he is with God - he is totally cool because he has left us with wonderful memories that have shaped, affected, and touched our lives -

And at the end of the day, we can all speak about my Dad and celebrate our special memories of him with each other.

On behalf of my family, I thank all of you who have joined us today, and many who could not join us but have sent their warm wishes and sympathies to my family.

Dad, I love you - and
. I'll go shopping with Mom, but I probably won't buy as many shoes as she has.
. I'll try to be on time.
. I'll have to practice the Jumble Word puzzle.
. Talk Radio will never be the same.
. I'll take care of Mom, Pat, Olga, and the grand kids, and I'll collect coins.
. I'll smile when I smell your after-shave.
. I'll always have more than a 1/4-tank of gas- and maybe I'll shoot for 1/2-tank.
. I'll learn to play golf.
. I'll learn to appreciate "normal" coffee.

And most importantly ...

I'll thank God every day that you lived 71 years fulfilled, and I got to share 38 of those years with you.

At the end of this day and every day, I hope you all have a special memory of my Dad and can say, "That Orlando, he's totally a cool dude."

Thank you and God Bless.

[for my Dad, whom I miss dearly ...
Dec 14, 1930 - April 17, 2002]

twa speaks (tongue-in-cheek) on dating

2007-01-23T08:15:00.000-08:00

yesterday ... twa, lw, and i had quite the e-banter on dating and on-line dating, in particular ... i am taking twa up on his insight & advice for "one-month" trial period - through mid-february 2007.

the opening ... twa offering his services to write/consult on ads

Before I share my insight regarding singles ads, I want to say a little bit about my background. Over the past ten years I have spent between 4 to 6 hours each day at work surfing the web reading classified ads written by women in ages ranging from 12 to 85 years old. Based on hundreds of hours of research, I have seen the following:

In these ads, younger women are not afraid to show photos of themselves in all types of nearly nude situations (example washing their car in a next to nothing bathing suit, or showing off their favorite underwear). With these types of photos the younger women will write something like: “Do you want to hookup tonight?”. For purely scientific reasons, I have tried to send emails to these types of ads but the mailboxes are always full with the thousands of other guys trying to meet these women.

I have noticed that as women get older they become more careful and start to show photos of themselves wearing a heavy sweater sitting in an overstuffed chair with a little cat or dog in their lap. These women will write something like: “Looking for a man with season tickets to the opera.”. Now I can guess why these older women are being more careful with their ads. They are worried about attracting the wrong type of man. The problem is, with the careful ad the few men that do respond are gutless Nancy boys that are in their forties and still living with their mom. Being careful with a singles ad is like trying to catch a fish without putting bait on the hook. Dating is like catching fish. Don’t worry about which fish you are going to catch. Instead, try to catch as many fish as possible. Use a huge gill net. Catch hundreds of fish. Get the fish in the boat. Once in the boat, look at each fish closely. If you like one of these fish, put it in the storage tank in the boat for later use. If you don’t like one of the fish, hit it in head with a hammer and throw it out of the boat.

With the gill net approach to singles ads, the photos need to show your best features. They do not need to be full body shots. Just close-up shots of the more important parts of the body. Warning --- do not cover-up these body parts too much in the photos. Men are stupid and need to be shown things clearly. The same approach needs to be taken in the write-up. Say things like: “Its been too long since my last parade. I want to ride on a float tonight.” OK – with the gill net type singles ad, you will get many many responses. Accept all of them. However, remember to bring your hammer with you on all first dates. You will need to use if often before you find a really good fish.

twa's clarification on the gill net after lw and my comment re: weeding fish out early-on ...

Here is the problem with trying to adjust the gill net, it is impossible to know which are the nasty fish at first. You must catch them first. Then decide if the fish is nasty. If you try to adjust the gill net, you will start losing fish. Some of those fish that you lost will be keepers. Due to all of the interest that will be generated with the gill net approach, you must manage your time. Try scheduling several dates for a single day (1 hour difference in starting time). If you hate the guy, act like you a going to puke and have him let you out of the car (do this within 15 minutes). You should practice this puking act to get is right. Go on the next date scheduled in the next hour. If you like the guy, just go out of the date and leave the other guys hanging. Chances are they were nasty fish anyway.

[side bar from lw to me: you must come over for a weekend so we can practice our fake vomiting technique. twa, I NEVER would have thought of this, you really are on to something here.]

(i'm in.) then more from twa on photos to post ... [bullets added for ease of reading twa's tips!]

A couple of comments regarding photos.
Put in a couple of more showing cleave (this of course is a major selling point with men. You may want to use Photoshop for a zoomed in shot.).
Get rid of photos showing you with other men (I know these types of photos show that you have men friends and you are social and all, but men do not like competition at right out of the gate.
Men want to think that you have no other men in your life at the moment.).
Get rid of the photos showing you having fun with big fake animals (I know these types of photos show that you like having fun and can be goofy at times – but remember that right out of the gate men are only thinking about one thing – getting lucky.
Photos showing you being goofy may indicate that you will laugh when a guy gets naked in front of you for the first time. This will kill a good buzz.)
Keep the photos with you and your girlfriends (in the back of all men’s minds is the idea of a possible 3-way).
Keep the photos of you drinking the hard stuff (also in the back of all men’s minds is the idea that I will get her drunk and have my way with her on the first date).

(i'm almost done with photos chosen to post) and then twa's insight on profile content (the stuff i wrote about me) ...

I like the write-up. It has good energy, it is not too long, and it highlights the fact that you are a professional. The only thing I would add is some reference to a dark past that you are trying to run from. Say something like: “Working in my new office in the bay area overlooking the Golden Gate bridge is a far cry from my days in Las Vegas working as an adult entertainer.” You do not need to be specific on what type of adult entertainment you did (let them guess).

and lw chimes in on profile content ...

And maybe add something about your amazing flexibility too.

and twa clarifies his advice on profile content and tone ...

Correct. The idea here is to show that you are a little bit crazy.
Not crazy like: Sometimes I stab people because they look at me funny.
Crazy like: I can’t help it but I’m crazy in bed.

some tips learned so far --- gill net, hammer, puke, cleavage, ... and there are more. (i haven't added my banter or some of lw's interim banter --- for it is the wisdom of twa we share today!)

and even if ...

2007-01-22T14:47:00.000-08:00

... i don't have something to post ... i've decided i'll post something - anything, else i'm not going to be in the habit of writing to write - writing what i want to write, what i'm thinking about, or what i'm not thinking about (and someone else is thinking about).

last week ... i went on a business trip and met up with a couple of project folks - fun folks. some discussion topics that came up and made me think a bit about stuff in general ...

michael crichton's lecture at CIT (jan 17, 2003) on consensus science (titled "aliens cause global warming")
a couple of websites - junk science and american thinker.
book on abraham lincoln

and conversation was lively, interesting, and ... did i say lively?

Airport Duty

2006-09-30T12:23:00.000-07:00

"Send me your itinerary. I’ll pick you up at curbside." He picks her up at Oakland airport, drives 25 miles south to drop her off, then drives north to San Francisco. He says that is where he lives. He smells good. He makes her laugh. It started in the summer of 2001. Since then, they have met often at curbside between his morning work obligations or before his evening chemo treatments. They've never kissed. They hugged twice on one occasion. It's now the spring of 2006. When she visits the Bay Area next month, she will rent a car.

(just a story in the mix - 04/01)

(a little editing in the mix - 04/18)
"Send me your itinerary. I’ll be curbside." He picks her up at Oakland airport. South 25 miles and she is at her doorstep. From her doorstep, north 42 miles and he is home. He says he lives in San Francisco. He smells good. She laughs with him. It started in the summer of 2001. Since then, they have met often, at curbside, between his morning work obligations or before his evening chemo treatments. They've never kissed. They hugged twice on one occasion. It's the summer of 2006. Next month, she will rent a car.

(a little editing in the mix - 09/30)
"Thanks for your itinerary. I’ll be curbside." He picks her up at Oakland airport. South 25 miles and she is at her doorstep. From her doorstep, north 42 miles and he is home. He says he lives in San Francisco. She likes to smell him. They laugh together. It started in the summer of 2001. Since then, they have met often, at curbside. She knows how he looks before he goes to work, and she knows how he looks before his evening chemo treatments. They've never kissed. They hugged twice on one occasion. It's the fall of 2006. Next month, she will rent a car.

a dilemma, perhaps

2006-07-31T04:48:00.001-07:00

[from an e-mail ... when business and friendship mix ... ]

Dear Friend,

Just wanted to touch base. I talked with one of your best friend's yesterday. And as you know, I also have been concerned. So I just want to make sure we have a chance to spend time talking soon – very soon. We have a unique situation in that both friendship and work/livelihood are affected. I am hoping this finds you well and that I will hear from you soon. Please do call and even come by.

As a friend, I am concerned about your health – physical, emotional, and mental. Your choosing to seek support of friends and professional help does make me feel hopeful and encouraged, as I feel it is a good sign of your desire to address whatever various day-to-day life issues are difficult to manage at this time in your life. It does not take much for me, as a friend, to put aside my own personal issues, for the time being, in order to support you – the person for which I care very much. Friendship is like that, and that is what makes us all feel human.

Moreover, however, as a friend, knowing that you may find it difficult to go to work, I simply ask that whatever strength you can muster to figure out truly what you need to do, please do so. You have both near term needs and longer term needs – work, social, personal, etc. This is similar to the talks you and I have had when you had difficulties and concerns about going into your previous job. Decisions at those forks in the road can be challenging, but life definitely happens when such decisions are made and a path is chosen. So for instance, I do remember how difficult your decision was to choose to leave your previous job; but in the end, it looks like it was what needed to happen at the time and for the long term.

Perhaps this work situation is the same. Or perhaps it is not. Maybe there is a near-term/short-term solution that also can benefit your longer term needs. It’s a difficult decision, but when work is something that one “has to do”, it helps to be able to put in perspective where work may fall on the spectrum of commitments – to yourself and to your work/livelihood. And in the end, it is most important to take care of you. It’s a cliché, but it’s timeless.

So ... as a co-worker and ‘boss-person’, I also am concerned about your health. And in this case, however, I am reminded to put much of my personal issues aside, for the time being, in order to keep my business going. I often have to remind myself that although I would like work to be ‘different’ and fun, I have a commitment to keep the business going, irrespective of how much fun it is or is not. Although this does not mean I don’t care of about others (clients, vendors, you, me), it does mean that I first have to take care of the business.

Having said that, the current circumstances are difficult for me to manage. You have been and are such an integral part of the business. I have come to rely on you because of your wisdom, hard-work, and contributions. Others we work with, likewise, recognize, respect and appreciate your dedication. And one other note that is important for me - I rely on you for your wit and humor that makes the day go by much faster! Work has not been fun for me lately at all, and I’m ecstatic to have you around. Your work presence has a direct impact on the business health and livelihood, as well as the office atmosphere.

The double-edged sword of this is that your absence at work, therefore, does directly affect the business. I am reminded this week that you have several items that I have no knowledge of the status, e.g., checks going out to vendors; perhaps you have completed them, perhaps not. So your work contribution is important and affects not only my business but also that of others. I am confident, however, that when you are present, such contribution will be made and the work gets done. But presence, consistency, and timeliness has been an issue on and off, and as such, I must direct myself to take care of the business.

Therefore, in this case, I ask that, as a co-worker/boss, you provide at least a near-term level of commitment – knowledge that I can continue to rely on you to have some level of consistency of supporting the business and contributing what you can and want to provide – something in line with contribution to the livelihood you seek. This may be until I relocate some time in September (e.g., business as usual with a sprinkle of transition), after I relocate (e.g., like keeping on with the AP/AR you talked about), or maybe even a shorter time frame if you find that the work here is not the path you seek. And if you seek that shorter time frame, then perhaps you can spend time educating me as to what you have created as the office standards and practices. In this way, I can learn from you how to maintain some level of business administration on a schedule that also meets your needs.

That said, please talk (voice/voice or, even better yet, face/face) with me. As a friend, I do want to know how (and that) you are managing and coping; life is so much more interesting with you. And as a co-worker/boss, I do want to know what you can provide in the near-term as efforts that allow you to seek the livelihood you are figuring out.

Again, I am hoping this finds you well and that I will hear from you soon. Please do call and even come by.

Love.

Donor #3355

2006-04-02T00:58:00.000-08:00

She was startled by the high-pitched ping. Cheryl flinched. She checked her computer screen. The subject line of Zoe's e-mail said, “This may be the father of my future baby :) … Donor #3355!?” Cheryl was stunned. Zoe surprised her. Zoe was planning to become a single parent.

(just another story in the mix)

It's Just a Numbers Game

2006-03-26T18:30:00.000-08:00

“Honey – finding Prince Charming, your Soul Mate, or whatever you wanna to call him, requires emotional and spiritual capital. At least that’s what Oprah and Dr. Phil say. But in my opinion, it’s a lot simpler than that – it’s just a numbers game. You gotta start somewhere, somehow, with a first date. And now that you’re free from corporate America, it’s all about the NEW you! Focus on yourself and your love life.” I looked at him, fidgeted and pulled back my shoulders. “That’s better, Sweetie. And unbutton your sweater a l’il bit if you decide that you like him. All men appreciate cleavage! Even I do. See you later!”

At 3:30 PM, these were the parting words of Todd, my gay friend, spoken before I would drive Downtown at 6 PM to meet my first It’s Just a Meal blind date for drinks.By 7 PM, my date with Aaron, “the 42-year old, 6 foot 2, athletic guy, the artist, the really nice guy,” would end. With my sweater still buttoned after meeting Aaron, I asked myself, “How many more dates would be followed by “The Drive of Shame” to Todd’s restaurant? How would I explain to Todd that the nine planets aligned to play a twisted joke on me? What was I going to tell It’s Just a Meal?

Just a week ago, Tiffany, the Executive Director of It’s Just a Meal, escorted me to her ocean view office. The room was littered with red and white pom-poms. I was barely seated before she picked up a pair of pom-poms, pranced in front of her office desk, and deafeningly cheered, “When We Jam, You Jam. It’s all about IJAM! Goooo Team!” Suddenly, she tossed ME a pair of pom-poms and cheered two more times. In a Jekyll and Hyde moment, Tiffany straightened her very fashionable suit, snatched my pom-poms, and said, “Now then, let’s totally get down to business.”

After completing IJAM’s six page questionnaire, I confided in Tiffany about the man I wanted to date. “Shit!” I thought. “The fate of my dating life rests in the hands of this cutesy, 20-something, hip-hugger wearing, valley-girl talking, cotton-candy smelling chick whose hair has been highlighted to the point of incandescence.” In between her “oh m’gawds” and “totallys”, Tiffany’s sales pitch of IJAM’s blind date, matchmaking service for professionals was surprisingly compelling. Of course, she never said “blind date”, and she never said “matchmaking,” but she did make it a point to repeat “professionals”. “Oh m’gawd! I’m sooo excited! I have four guys in mind who are awesome! IJAM is sooo for you!” Without even asking if I was interested, Tiffany lunged at me with a pen and their contract. I was stunned by the five-tier membership options. But despite their fee structure, I decided to go the distance, became a Platinum Member and promised never to look back after signing my check over to IJAM. Wrong. One week later, I would sit in my car, breaking my promise.

While warming up my car a before meeting Aaron, the artist, I thought, “Wow! There are professional artists? Maybe he’s a famous painter, a musician in a rock band, or a soprano in the opera?” Whatever he was, the artist would get to see the new me – contact lenses, red lipstick, foundation to mask the emerging zit on my cheek, and a cleavage-promoting top. I grabbed my calculator out of my purse. Before punching the calculator keys, I checked my armpits – still dry. “Just one last time before my date,” I obsessed. “Must do the math, again. Just one last time.”

I barely heard the click of the keys over the hum of my car engine. 93 75 for each date (for 16 dates) or 125 a month for 12 months. But when I subtracted the 200 dollar interview fee with Tiffany and her pom-poms, it was 81 25 a date or 108 dollars and 33 cents a month. I convinced myself about the need to account for the interview fee. With my “new math”, it made the whole endeavor sound just a little cheaper. Less the 200 dollar interview fee, I already saved 12 50 for each date. Sure the logic was whacked, but the math was correct. Because no matter how often I punched my calculator, no matter how I approached this first date, I was faced with the dizzying reality that the only number that really mattered was fifteen hundred dollars – the price of a Platinum Membership with It’s Just a Meal.

I arrived Downtown; the hostess pointed to my date. Aaron was seated at the trendy bar, sipping a white zinfandel, and admiring himself in the wall mirror behind the bar. As the hostess escorted me to a vacant barstool next to him, he turned around. His eyes immediately locked onto mine with an intense, searching gaze. After a few seconds, during which he apparently decided he was satisfied with the view, he silently presented me with a single white rose and gently kissed my hand.

When he looked up, I began my own nonchalant perusal of his appearance. His salt-and-pepper mullet-hairstyle created a perfect frame for his Elvis Costello glasses, tan leathery skin, and straight white teeth. He wore a large quartz crystal hanging from a black leather strap and was quietly bouncing on his barstool, grinning and patting the empty stool next to him. I sat down to his right. In the air, I could taste his heavy-handed application of Old Spice cologne. I sneezed and then I ordered a martini and a double shot of vodka. Aaron coyly smiled. When the bartender served our drinks, Aaron grabbed the martini glass, swirled and sniffed its contents, nodded approvingly, and handed the glass to me. As he ran his finger through his hair, the first words out of his mouth were, “Wonderfully fragrant, M’Lady.” I sucked down half of my martini.

“Okay! He’s a professional artist.” The words spun in my head. “Now THAT whole swirl thing was a little strange, but it’s not a deal killer.” Under my breath, I repeated the mantra, “… numbers game. It’s just a numbers game. It’s just … ” Down went the vodka double shot.

Tiffany was right; Aaron was definitely 6-2. Athletic? Sure, I could see that. But she neglected to say one thing – once he got started, he couldn’t stop. Aaron was a chatterbox – sports, weather, politics, business – never anything personal, never anything engaging. He was like an audio U.S.A. Today newspaper. Not only that, his gestures gracefully complemented every word he spoke. Then, on the rare occasions when I was able to get a word in edge-wise, he invaded my personal space, stroked my left wrist, and eagerly nodded at every other syllable I uttered.

“Oh my god! It’s only 15 minutes into the date!” Did IJAM require a minimum amount of time for each date? Regardless, I decided that ending a date before 30 minutes would surely be frowned upon. “31 minutes and I’m outta here!” Suddenly, as if Aaron heard my thoughts, there was an awkward silence. He fidgeted on his barstool. He stared into the mirror and stroked the quartz crystal lying atop his Adam’s apple. Then, his eyes nervously darted around the restaurant as if he needed to find the nearest exits.

“Oh no you don’t!” The words blared in my head. “Don’t even think about it, Artsy-Fartsy Man! I just got here! 93 75 or 81 25, Dammit! I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Suddenly, he swiveled on his stool and invaded my space, “So, what do you do for a living?” I was flustered. He wanted to converse. I sipped what was left of my martini and said, “I recently left a small energy consulting company to start my own business. I consult with power plants on environmental issues.” To that, he interrupted, “Oh! Do you work with peakers?” My eyes bugged-out; if I was a cartoon character, I’m sure they would’ve been the size of Jupiter while hanging off their sockets! Then I realized that we might have something in common! “What the hell, Aaron!? IJAM told me you were an artist. Only power industry people say peakers!”

Proudly he said, “Oh, you’ll find that I’m a man of many hats. For almost 5 years, I used to work with wind energy. I got sick of seeing piles of dead birds, so I cashed in my stock options right before the dot-com crash. Then my guardian angel helped me find my true calling. I quit my job and became a street artist. I’m a mime.”

Dazed and almost choking on my words, I mumbled, “True calling? Mime? Wind energy? Uh, the company I just left, Green Energy Elements, is in Pleasantland. I worked there for … ” Before I could finish, he talked over my words, “Oh! Bob and Larry? I know them.” His soliloquy began again – yack, yack, yack, yack, yack – another speech about nothing, arms waving like that of a symphony conductor.

Holy shit! I’ve payed 93 75 or 81 25 – whatever the hell the amount - for a random mime to remind me that we lived in a small world. My first IJAM date is reciting the names of my former employers – “former” as of only twelve days ago. Bob and Larry - their names rang in my head. I downed my martini with lightning speed. Then I looked up at Aaron for sympathy; but he had no clue about the flashback turmoil I was experiencing the moment he said their names. He was too busy impressing himself with his own stories. Bob and Larry – Larry and Bob. After a year, I got a severance package and took my lawyer’s advice to remain calm and not go postal as they disingenuously wished me “good luck in all your future endeavors.”

Oh my God, now it’s only 25-minutes into my date with the Bay-City-Roller-Wanna-Be. After he reminisced about the “the good ole days” with Bob and Larry, he was exploring new, uninteresting tangents. Why was Aaron still talking while I obviously had a plastered smile poised atop my bobble head acknowledgment of his empty words? By 7PM, I knew this would be our only date. His being really nice had some benefits, but his being really boring did not. I shook his hand and got my parking stub validated.

81 25, plus drinks, plus a Mime. Priceless.

When I waved at Todd through his restaurant’s window, it was 8 PM. He efficiently seated a table of eight, and acknowledged me with his signature beauty-pageant hand wave. He had his sassy hair highlighted and gelled, and he wore yet another one of his to-die-for outfits. The waiting area was packed, the bar was crowded, but regardless, he quickly rushed outside. He gave me a huge bear hug, kissed me on both cheeks, and pulled at one of my sweater buttons. “Snatch-Basket! You look great! But where’s the cleavage? Is he a painter? Do tell all, but make it quick. We’re totally slammed.”

I took a deep breath. “He’s not a painter. He’s a new-agey-mullet-wearing-mime that used to work for Bob and Larry. What a small-fucking-world?” Todd gave me a comforting hug and said, “Ah, Sweetie! That sucks. He sounds like a poor bastard. Dump him.”