Friday, August 12, 2005

The skies are alive

Today's interview went well. The hiring manager said that I was an excellent candidate. She'll set up a second round of telephone interviews for next week. (The rest of the team is in White Plains, New York.) The project feels a lot like the Rational Suite team that I joined several years ago. For the first month or two, I would spend a couple of days each week in White Plains; the rest of the time, I'd have an office locally.

In the meantime, a few interesting problems landed on my desk - accessing the Windows registry from a script and helping a customer with a problem.

Tonight is the night for the Persied meteor showers. We will have hazy and cloudy skies so the viewing won't be good. One night about 20 years ago, Sandra and the boys met me at Logan Airport when I was returning from a business trip. We drove to Prince Edward Island through the night. In the dark skies of northern Maine, the sky was alive with meteors.

Mike's construction business has a web site.

The weather remains hot and will get hotter still over the weekend. A good time for a party at the camp tomorrow.

Happy Birthday, Joe. Happy Birthday, Marian.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Getting things done

Last night I received a call from a recruiter regarding a permanent job. The position is a senior individual contributor on a high-visibility project. (The CEO of the company follows the project closely.) I have an interview with the hiring manager tomorrow morning. I'll trust that the process will lead me to the right decision.

Today's automated search for a documentation position turned up this one:

Position: Software/Firmware Developer
Location: Gardner, MA (MUST BE OKAY WITH LOCATION TO APPLY!!!)

I was talking with a couple recently about some ways to help ensure that their teenagers were using the computer and Internet properly. One way was to have the computer in an open part of the house. The parents agreed that it was a good idea. Until they could move the computer, however, they found another approach. The father was keeping the keyboard and mouse in the back of his truck, at least until school starts.

It's been easy to get overwhelmed by my assignments lately. I've taken to writing things on index cards and adding a time estimate for each task. If it's less than five minutes, I'll try to complete it then and there. If it's less than 15 minutes, I'll prioritize it and put it in a queue. If it's more than 15 minutes of work, I'll try to break it into 15-minute chunks and schedule those. My desk has the look of a large ransom note, but the system seems to be working.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

give(peace(chance(1)));

When I was traveling a lot, I would usually take the red-eye flight home from the west coast. I had a small MP3 player that held two hours of music. Most of the time, I listened to Buena Vista Social Club. Ibrahim Ferrer, who died last Saturday, was featured on the Buena Vista recording. What I know of Spanish wouldn't get me a shoe shine, but no matter. His smooth, rich tenor voice will always remind me of a ride home, half asleep in the darkness, in the sky.

Today's automated job search for a technical documentation position brought a listing for an Explosive Inspector. It reminds me of the bomb squad t-shirt that read, "If you see me running, try to keep up."

Here's some interesting summary findings about stress and how it affects the brain and other parts of the body.

Our Middle East policy, written as a UNIX shell script, reminds us, as always, to read the fine manual.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Chain saws and the Eucharist

On Saturday we went to the funeral of our co-worker's husband, mentioned here last Monday. The church was full. The evening before, winds from a severe thunderstorm had uprooted trees and broken branches throughout the area. So, while the mourners gathered for the funeral Mass on that warm summer morning, the rest of the town was cleaning up, cutting away the broken limbs and dragging brush to the roadside for the chippers. After the Mass, we went the airport to pick up Mike and Lynn.

M&L had a wonderful time, meeting people, seeing sights. We dropped them off at their house where they could exchange cuddles and kisses with their children and then we went off to the camp. We were tired from the week and it was barely dark when we went to bed.

There was an interesting, if somewhat flawed article in yesterday's BostonWorks about depression and work. It's flawed because some of the facts about depression aren't presented quite right. The article claims that 15% of clinically depressed people commited suicide; it's more likely that 15% attempt suicide. The author also mixes up anxiety attacks with depression; they are related, but separate illnesses. The article cites a book named Working in the Dark: Keeping Your Job While Dealing With Depression, which I have ordered.

Anyway, it's an interesting piece, made more so for me because I had a chat with my manager about my health last week. I needed to have that talk because my health was starting to have an affect, at least from my perspective, on my ability to do my work. He was very supportive and assured me that my performance was still what he was expecting of me. That was encouraging. When I look back at my time at my previous, I can see that I was starting to go into a skid during my last couple of years there. I made some bad decisions and dug myself into a few holes. Had I known and been able to talk about it, I might have saved my manager and myself some embarrassment.

In one more example of Google not being like the rest of us, think about what Google expects of its chef the next time you go to lunch at your place of employment. BTW, C|Net got into some trouble with Google for this story

I was working at a diner on August 8, 1974 when Richard Nixon announced his resignation. The restaurant, which would normally be fairly busy, was empty, except for the two waitresses, the dishwasher, and yours truly. We listened on the radio as this Shakespearean character stepped from the stage, an odd, misshapen, seemingly friendless man who could see poetry in the histrionics of Mao and Zhou.

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