Storyboard - Wabash River (Flooded), West Lafayette, IN - April 29 2011

Recent downpours that would make Noah sit up and take notice have brought the Wabash river up around the knees of several local joggers. So to share in the soggy joy, Laura and I took ourselves out to see the sights and sounds.

The new pedestrian walkway between Lafayette and West Lafayette is a nice area but also rife with all sorts of spiders looking to make their living. Sadly the wind was mind-blowing on this day so it was tough to get any of the subject matter to sit still for long, but one exception was this small fly or moth caught up for the last time.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

Lafayette downtown from the bridge.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

Note the right-of-way sign that's almost entirely under water. Normally this would be a jogging path.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

BEST. HAIR. EVER.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

No picnics today.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

These fanciful yellow mushrooms, maybe Boletinellus merulioides(?) (for the record, mushroom identification is harder than it would seem) were recently mulched over so they were barely protruding from the surface.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

They're missing the gills of the typical 'shroom.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

I love dandelion seeds. They seem so innocuous but they're really terrible barbed little devils. All the better to snag on something as you're flying through the air, I suppose. (Click the link to see the ultra close-up version.)

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

The neighboring trees (some sort of Apple or Crabapple perhaps) are just awash with blooms. The perspective in this shot makes it look as if they go on forever and ever.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

Seems to be missing an arrow. All users yield to flood.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

Closing with this picture of Laura. For some reason it just really appeals to me. Huge sun flare on the left, simple composition and completely candid.

From Wabash River - 04-29-11

Books: Faces of Poverty – Portraits of Women and Children on Welfare [1995]

Introduction
The first question that will no doubt occur is that of motivation. Why would I, a fairly middle-class type of gent, care to read a book about women in poverty? The answer is really just one of simple curiosity and a desire to see the other side of the socio-economic fence, to have some insight into this part of society that is fairly well insulated from the larger parts of society. I’ve never been anywhere near the financial straits that these women find themselves in and I’ve never known anyone who has been so it’s a completely foreign life situation. Further, this group is one of the more maligned in our country and I can’t help but wonder where that comes from and whether it is at all justified. If you listen to conservative talk radio you will quickly get the impression that the Welfare system is responsible for wasting billions of dollars and that Welfare recipients are lazy, shiftless do-nothings who have babies just for the purposes of collecting bigger and bigger checks. Given this rather dark baseline for the discussion, what exactly is the truth of the matter?
Textual Note: This text is a bit on the dated side so the numbers quoted are also a bit on the dated side. I’ll make very small effort to modernize this data since the spirit of the book remains the same regardless of how old the numbers are.

Chapter 1 – What is Welfare?
Established in 1935 after the Great Depression, the Welfare system, or AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent Children), was designed to help the “deserving poor,” mostly women who had been widowed, divorced or abandoned during the financial crisis. The intent was to provide a sort of minimum stopgap measure for women so they could stay at home and care for their children while they made plans for more long-term support. At the time, this long-term plan was usually in the form of finding a new husband. Since the program required that parents provide a “suitable home” for their children and working outside the home was typically frowned upon, it wasn’t particularly practical for a woman to work her way off of Welfare.

At its inception, the program was seen as a great public boon, helping those who really were in trouble through no fault of their own. The shift in public opinion seemed to begin most notably in the 1960s when laws about what constituted a “suitable home” were struck down by the courts. Before the civil rights movement, many southern state’s laws had exclusions that deemed unwed African American mothers as fundamentally unsuitable. In the twenty years after suitability laws were removed from the welfare system, the rolls increased from 2 million to 5 million while the demographics of the nation changed as well. In 1960 5% of children lived in female-led households among Caucasians and 15% among African Americans. By 1980 these numbers had tripled to 15% and 45% respectively. Today the percentage of African American children in a single parent household has reached a staggering 67%. In 1939 when the program was started, 80% of the recipients were white. By 1995 the numbers had shifted dramatically when 39% were black despite comprising only 12% of the total population

In addition to the shift in race, the target audience for Welfare also shifted dramatically in situation. The system originally set up to assist widows and abandoned women was now servicing mothers who had never been married or been divorced. By 1991 only 1.6% of the women on Welfare were actually in the original intended audience for the program. Of single mothers, 35% were never married at all while 37% were divorced. Given the numbers, it’s not hard to see that the difference in public opinion stems at least in part from the fact that as a society, we’re still working off a lot of bigotry against the people that the program helps. While we were all happy to help white widows, we seem to have a harder time coming to the aid of a woman of color who has children out of wedlock.

Over the years, the attempts to reform Welfare have been numerous. We’ve seen countless job-training programs but these have always been woefully underfunded. Even the best-funded programs in the 90s only saw 19% participation. Benefits have been progressively lowered and in 1995 a family of three in this country can expect to see a benefit of $400 per month, putting them well below the poverty line (~$15,000 a year). Public opinion also seems to have it that women on Welfare are sitting around having more children to raise their payments. In 1995 the average increase in benefit for having another child was $70 per month. This explains why 72% of women on welfare have only one or two children. Further, the benefits are so poor that half of recipients stay on the program for less than two years with only 17% receiving benefits for 8 years or more.

The grand summation of all these statistics seems to be that most of our common perceptions about Welfare and the people on it are all a bunch of bunk. Nobody’s getting rich off this system and the idea that they’re all just kicking back and relaxing rather than going to work is ludicrous. The average Welfare mom could make twice as much even working for minimum wage rather than sitting around collecting a check for doing nothing, assuming she could find affordable childcare during her working hours. Clearly, nobody wants to be on Welfare for various reasons from the psychological effect of feeling like a failure to the crushing poverty that it leaves in its wake. Anyway, that’s my impression so far. Chapter 2 later…

Storyboard - Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN - April 3, 2011

Ah yes, I remember this day well. It was so windy as Laura and Eric and I made our way into the woods that we believed repeatedly that a tree might be blown over in the forest and crush us.

These tiny wildflowers proliferate the underbrush in early April. They look a lot bigger here, but they're really about as wide as a pencil eraser.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

This delicate creature appears to be the Wood Anemone... Maybe?. They vary from white to this pale sort of violet color.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

I like this image in particular because of the way they seem to reach up, craning their scrawny necks to find their way above the foliage.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

Here's the first glimpse of the six-spotted tiger beetle, Cicindela sexguttata.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

With these mega-fierce mandibles, they show down on insects and spiders. So no need to hide your small children.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

Eric and Laura had fun at the small artificial waterfall at the back of the park.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

Pretty sure this is photographer pose #1. Not that photographers tend to pose much.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

The tricky thing about photographing spider webs is depth of field. Focus too deep and you lose everything. Focus too high and lose any sense of depth. All in all, a tough prospect.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

Some rude person disturbed an any colony in a dead tree and send the inhabitants scrambling to gather the unhatched eggs.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

I actually bothered to set this one up. The image of the two flowers on the leaf seemed apropos somehow.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

This one struck me as particularly grim. Underexposed intentionally for emphasis. Clearly the day is about done and humans who don't wish to be eaten by bears should move along.

From Ross Hills Park, West Lafayette, IN

Movies: “Source Code”

Firstly, it should be noted that I don’t write about movies often because I simply don’t go to movies particularly often. Secondly, it should be noted that if you have a thing for geeky movies that use bits of made-up science to concoct a barely believable plot and you might go see this movie you shouldn’t read any further because I’m 100% committed to spoiling it. You were duly warned.

The basic premise of this movie is similar to many in the genre. *Insert Technology* enables scientists to thwart *Bad Thing* which they do and this results in *Happy Result*. There, now I’ve ruined it utterly. If that’s not enough, I’ll ruin it further. The technology in question is the ability to take a living human brain and send it back in time to take over the brain of a soon-to-be-deceased person in the past. Apparently, the plot seems to implore us to believe, the electromagnetic signature of a human brain continues to bounce around the world for eight minutes after death which means that this technology will allow you to stuff your consciousness into the brain of a person for the eight minutes preceding their demise. So our hero, a wounded helicopter pilot who is little better off than a brain in a jar, is repeatedly thrown back in time to relive over and over the last eight minutes of life belonging to a passenger on a train that’s blown up by a very large bomb.

Interestingly though, in addition to seeing the occurrence over and over, our protagonist is somehow able to repeatedly influence events in these eight minutes and despite the flailing explanation of the scientists in charge, creates a happy ending for himself and the woman he manages to fall in love with in eight minutes. All this goes on quite blissfully despite a fairly sizeable causal contradiction. As is usual in these movies, the hero stops the event that led to his being sent on the mission in the first place yet nobody blinks an eye. The fabric of space and time is not ripped asunder, no parallel realities are formed and somehow in all this confusion, boy still manages to meet girl and fall in love.

My painting of the movie in general is dark but it really did have a chance. As usual, Hollywood makes movies that are almost exactly five minutes too long. Our hero could have died a hero’s death, making good in the world but leaving the smaller evil still in place. Instead the movie had to stretch itself like a lazy cat who leans a bit too far and finds herself plummeting off the side of the bed at two in the morning. Boy did not have to get girl. A few could have died to save the many. Instead we’re left with an interesting exercise in psychology and a bit of fake science that had an saccharine sweet ending crammed down its throat. Clearly worth seeing on DVD but only if you have the willpower to turn it off with five minutes left to go.

Storyboard - Indianapolis Museum of Art (grounds) - April 8, 2011

Admittedly, I'm going back in time a bit on this one but I can only reason that  I should document while I still actually remember what took place.

The first photo is utterly unexciting, I will warn you, but lends itself to an observation.  Whether this is an interesting observation is left as an exercise to the reader.  Anyway, simply, the closer you get to things the more you realize that everything has hair.  Spiders have hair.  Plants have hair.  People have hair.  Apparently tiny appendages are the "IN" thing when it comes to life forms now adays.

From 2011_04_08

I've yet to solidly determine any reason why these flowers would point downward. There's no evolutionary advantage that comes to mind. Perhaps this saves the flowers moisture and allows them to last longer?

From 2011_04_08

Daffodils have just been bred to the point of insanity. Like anything this gaudy could survive in the wild...

From 2011_04_08

A few nice Hyachinth.

From 2011_04_08

This guy was climbing down a wall. Some people... hate spiders. Me, I adore a nice complicated and hairy spider. What can I say.

From 2011_04_08

Alright, confession time. I love primitive plants. The second you say 'non-vascular' to me you instantly have my attention. So mosses and liverworts are to die for but for showiness, the ferns rule all in their semi-primitive glory.

From 2011_04_08

This little denizen of the forest didn't come out nearly as well as I would have liked. His brown-on-brown coloring was difficult to get a proper exposure on. Add to that the fact that he was a quick little bugger (I never kill for the purposes of photographing)

From 2011_04_08

This little jumping spider was very cooperative and made for, in my opinion, one of the best photos I've ever taken. The creepy part is that I can see myself in the reflection in her eyes. Clearly, she's somewhere far away thinking of me as a nice, delicious stew...

From 2011_04_08

Lastly, this wasp made an appearance, but doubtless my flashbacks to childhood when I was stung by a whole nestfull of the dratted things made my results... well, less than optimal.

From 2011_04_08

More Wondrous Feedback

One of the best things about publishing your almost-innermost thoughts in a blog is that sometimes you get candid feedback about what you’ve written from people when next they happen to meet you in person. Yesterday was such a day and for the purpose of posterity I will share the highlights, such as they were, here. The main points follow, in no particular order.

It was mentioned that my demeanor in writing is very different from my demeanor in person. Judging by my blog posts, I am a strongly opinionated person with unwavering beliefs that brook absolutely no argument from anyone. I have firmly and completely made up my mind and, seemingly, anyone disagreeing can “taketh themselves unto Hades” as my grandfather used to say, but in slightly different terms. When you sit down to talk to me in person, it was observed, I’m “slippery” and “evasive” and “one never really knows what I think on a particular topic.”

Admittedly, it took me no small time to digest this feedback. I pride myself on honesty and forthrightness if for no other reason that I haven’t the time nor inclination nor memory for subterfuge. I will admit that there is a distinct difference between the outward appearance of these two aspects of my personality. In writing, I do seem more determined and opinionated but this is merely because I know what I’m going to say, I’ve chosen the topic specifically because I feel strongly about it, and there’s nobody else here to contradict me or contribute. If I seem forceful or opinionated it’s not because I am unwilling to hear other voices in the discussion but merely because there ARE no other voices. If I leave room for them in my writing for voices which will not speak then those spaces will appear only as holes. I have not mastered the rhetorical arts necessary to write only half a story.

In conversation, I will of course appear softer because I want to leave as much room as possible for the other side of the discussion. Good conversation is something I treasure above almost everything else. If I presented myself with the abruptness and directness of a blog entry then everyone else would quickly become bored. If the result of the conversation seems oleaginous or evasive, then it is only because real face-to-face interaction is not about a getting from point A to point B as quickly as possible. Whereas writing is a full-out sprint from starting point to finish, a good conversation is more of a dance between two people who agree on a starting point and work together to come to a conclusion. This isn’t evasiveness but instead partnership. A good conversation has two sides. At best a piece of written work can have but one.

Secondly, I was taken to task on a specific point of fact in a blog entry from 2006. In the post I talked long and vehemently about alcohol and its place in American Society. It was one blog among many but the commentator pointed out, quite correctly, that my current lifestyle was contradictory to that single post. The question was, simply, why hadn’t I corrected the post to indicate my revision of opinion on the topic? My response to that, while a weak one, was that I had no interest in being a revisionist. I cannot be responsible for every bit of fluff that I knock off half a decade ago. Looking back on the post, I still agree with the content in spirit, but don’t adhere to my own previous standards. I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m not sure what else to say except that I have addressed the topics at issue though not with the vehemence of my original proclamation. Perhaps I’m embarrassed at the failure and don’t wish to publicize it? Who can say really.

I think the larger point is that a blog isn’t about the now so much as it is a history. The value isn’t in maintaining a pristine image of where you are so much as figuring out where you’ve been. Perhaps where you’ve been isn’t so great. I’ve written plenty of things that I’ve later realized were complete shit. One need only follow the posts on religion to realize that. I put out an opinion on the topic and the world came together to beat me back and correct me over the subsequent seven years. I consider there to be no better outcome for a writer than to be proven wrong by his readers. When that happens it means not only that you all cared enough to tell me that I was full of shit but also that I was accepting and receptive of it and that YOU, my readers, my friends, my family, changed me for the better. For that, I thank you.

Lastly, one recurring topic that my commentator hit upon frequently is to ask simply, why I would bother to blog at all. Why have I, for seven years, sat down at the computer and typed out what I was thinking about? Why would I bother to invest in this endeavor? What would I possibly have to gain from it? In all honesty, the endeavor was a search for friendship. Through my years on this planet I have sought to connect and to find people with whom I could share my life. For the most part, because of my own attitudes, I’ve been unsuccessful. I’ve come across as demanding and antisocial and generally an ass because I categorically reject, sometimes forcefully and insultingly, many things that people hold most dear. That’s a pretty poor way to make friends and looking back on this blog, it’s only exacerbated the problem. While I pour out my thoughts on things I also doubtless find a way to alienate just about everyone who reads it. This is sad because in some very specific way I value every one I come in contact with in a way that I’m just terribly and ironically bad at communicating. In some ways I feel like I can communicate in a masterful and convincing way and in some ways I feel like a hopeless and wordless child who accomplishes the exact opposite of his intent.

Storyboard - Indianapolis Zoo - April 23, 2011

On Saturday the girls and I went off to the Indianapolis zoo.  It was a fairly nice day and therefore prime time to wander around in the quasi-outdoors that the zoo provides.  Unfortunately, there was also an Earth Day celebration further down White River park so everybody else and their brother also thought it was a prime day to take in the local attractions.  To say it was crowded would have been a vast understatement.


Aquarium photography is an art I've not come near to mastering. After a short jaunt I resolved to take an entire day and do this properly.

From 2011-04-23

I love how they just float here so effortlessly.

From 2011-04-23

The jellies are wonderful subjects, but my results are poor and unsatisfying. This may be where I camp out first when I go back with several hours to kill.

From 2011-04-23

The result here was a total failure when compared to my original intent but it's more than a bit surreal when separated from my original design.

From 2011-04-23

The baby giraffe seems to be a hit everyone. Unfortunately I was toting a macro lens and not a zoom this day so all my shots were full-body rather than the more intimate portraits I've had of these animals in the past.

From 2011-04-23

From 2011-04-23

I should have made better notes on what I was photographing in this case. Another note for the next trip out.

From 2011-04-23

Izzy looked on in typical Izzy fashion.

From 2011-04-23

And as usual Amanda's glasses match her eyes.

From 2011-04-23

And they get along swimmingly...

From 2011-04-23

From 2011-04-23

The meerkats are attentive as always.

From 2011-04-23

From an evolutionary standpoint it's baffling to me why these gets are a complimentary color compared to their environment.

From 2011-04-23

Ahhh... had forgotten about this one. Captured bolt of lightning from the storm the night before. Four second exposure.

From 2011-04-23

A Spring Holiday by any other Name… (or: The Easter Post)

Any of you who know me at all or have read any of my previous posts about religion know that my relationship with religion is exactly the same as my relationship with Ovaltine. Never had it. Fairly familiar with it. Never have any desire to have it. Simple enough. If you want to drink Ovaltine or go to Church, that’s no business of mine. Have fun; just don’t get it on your shirt. It stains. (Ovaltine, that is).

However, it seems that increasingly in this country we’re in denial about the religious roots of our customs and traditions. Christmas has been genericized to “The Holidays” and increasingly municipalities and government operations that observe a day off for “Good Friday” refer to it by the non-religious term “Spring Holiday.” (link) Even as a non-Christian, I can’t say I see the point of this self-delusion. Is a non-believer really going to be offended if they’re granted a day off work on behalf of a religion they don’t subscribe to? Why are we fighting such a meaningless battle?

This reminds me a bit of some Christopher Hitchens I read once. Hitchen’s goal is to do everything he can to tear religious practices to shreds on historical and practical grounds. Most of what he writes is absolutely true. There are huge problems with religion and it has caused problems in our history from The Crusades to hundreds of thousands of witches that were burned alive. My issue with Hitchens is that he’s just such an incredible twat about the whole thing. Factually he’s correct. But he uses his facts to bludgeon the hell out of a lot of people’s deeply-held beliefs that aren’t hurting a damn thing. If it makes you feel good to believe that Jesus died for you and is waiting for you after you die, then that is completely awesome. Whatever you have to do get up in the morning with a smile on your face.

Similar to Hitchens though, when we try to deny the religious history of this country we’re just needlessly screwing with a lot of fairly benevolent people. What’s more, they’re the majority. Depending on which survey you believe, between 60-75% of the people in this country observe some form of Christian faith. If they want to declare a national holiday in May called “Jesus is Fucking Awesome Day” then I’d say more power to them. As long as I can put a bumper sticker on my car that says, “Jesus Who?” then have at it. This is the sort of tolerance that the minority asks for and that the majority has a whole New Testament about so we should all be pretty familiar with the concept.

The larger point here is that we all just need to calm the hell down and stop getting so politically correct about everything. There’s absolutely no need for this sort of unnecessary renaming of things. Call a spade a spade. Christmas is about Christ. Hell, he’s right there in the fucking name of the holiday. Easter and Good Friday are too. His name’s not in there but it’s still about him, trust me on this or look it up if you have to. No reason for anyone to get upset even if they don’t believe in this Jesus character. Just go with it. When Darwin gets to his 2000th birthday, maybe we can get a holiday for him too.

Antisocial Society

One of the benefits of carrying the equivalent of a computer with me all the time in the form of an iPhone (any modern cell phone or even a scrap of paper would do here) is that I keep a long list of future blog post topics in a small document handy at all times. Any moment that the mood strikes me I write down a short and effective blurb about whatever struck a nerve with me just awaiting future attention in a posting. In this case, the only words that needed to be recorded were somewhat contradictory “Antisocial Society” and these words from a solid two weeks ago were sufficient to call forth the following random banter…

I recall with some distinctness, in a time not so long ago but much more clement than today, sitting on a bench in a public park next to some playground equipment. Amanda and Izzy were doing the usual playground thing, sitting (somewhat conspiratorially) in a secluded nook of the playground with a mysterious third party. A small girl had joined them and they seemed to be bantering playfully end joyfully enough. Personally I was glad that they found a friend or at least someone who is as close to being a friend as you can be given they’ll never see each other again. All was well until a woman with a hawkish proboscis and a severe hairstyle swooped in, said something to the girl and took her away to another part of the playground.

To be honest, I was a bit mystified. Neither of my children has any outwardly obvious signs of plague. There was no conflict between the three. They seemed to be getting along swimmingly yet for some reason beyond my ability to conceive, it seemed appropriate to the woman I shall refer to simply as ‘Hawknose’ to break up the trio. After Hawknose’s intervention, the little girl played briefly in another part of the park and then slowly gravitated back to my girls who had since moved on to some other activity. Apparently there was a brief emergency at The Hall of Justice or something for a bit because Hawknose was not to be seen in the area to break them up again until considerably later when it was time for her and her child to go elsewhere. Whatever it was that caused her to intervene before was apparently only temporary.

I couldn’t help but view this whole episode as a bit on the antisocial side but then I took a look around at the parents of these children. The children, as a group, were doing their best to mingle a bit but the parents stood around as if on their own separate islands. No two islands touching for more than an instant, a glance, a passing word. For a social animal that is supposed to thrive on interaction, we certainly seem to do a great job of isolating ourselves. It’s a pity too because most of the islands looked pretty damn bored staring at their kids and hoping that they don’t slip and break their necks on a banana peel or some bit of random trash on the ground.

Never Too Young

As a general rule I’m intensely well-insulated against popular culture. Fads and trends come and go and I don’t bat an eye because I’m listening to music made before I was born and I couldn’t tell Lady GaGa from Carrie Underwood if you put them both in front of me. So the majority of stupid things that society does pass by without my commentary. However, the other day I was listening to LBC while they were doing an ever-popular phone-in opinion show. Apparently there was a bit of an uproar going on at the moment because of something called “Junior Jazzles.” After listening to this, I’m disappointed in society.

Until I did a bit of digging on the topic, I wasn’t really sure of the origins here. It seems there’s a product for women called ‘Vajazzles’ that can be used to decorate certain bits of their anatomy. This in itself is distasteful enough and I’m not sure why a woman would wish to put tiny plastic speedbumps onto an already sensitive area of her anatomy but if she wishes to do so I suppose that’s her business. The “Junior Jazzles” product is, it seems, an equivalent product for the younger set. As repulsed as I feel at the adult version of this product the child’s version is an outright travesty. Sadder still is that a company produced and marketed this product in the belief that society would accept it. If you look at some of the things that society does accept as reasonable for small children, it’s not entirely surprising they would come to this conclusion because in most cases Americans are perfectly fine with sexualizing and assigning gender roles to even the smallest of children.

For small boys this gender role assignation doesn’t tend towards the sexual but is clearly intended to put boys in their proper place early in life. They’re given trucks and tools and other various toys to play with that illustrate very clearly their future place in society. Men are meant to do, to work, to make the world better in an outwardly grandiose fashion. They’re to be valued for what they can do with their hands and their minds and except for the occasional dress-up for Easter pictures, outward appearance isn’t so important. Boys are taught at a very young age that when they get older they’re going to get out into the world and make a difference in the world whether it’s building a bridge or driving a truck.

While the boys are playing with trucks, girls get dolls and kitchenware and fancy dress-up clothes to play with because their role will be one of having children and cooking and dressing up, apparently. The contribution of women, based on these gender roles assigned so early in life, seems obnoxiously male-centered. The woman will bear and raise the man’s children and cook the man’s meals and make sure she always looks good for the man. That way the man can do his job of going out into the world and doing the real work. This seems a sadly empty existence for the woman and I’m glad that for the most part it’s evaporating as a lifestyle as time goes on. We still give our girls dolls and kitchenware to play with but increasingly as they grow into women, they ignore these early attempts at enslavement. So I would happily report that at least some small progress has been made since the 50s.

The part of this in which we seem to have slipped backwards horrifyingly in the last several decades is that society still seems to believe that a woman’s role is to be attractive to the man. Women today seem to spend more time than ever trying to dress themselves up to meet some arbitrary and hopeless standard of attractiveness that is assigned to them by men. They primp, powder, push and prod every single part of themselves in an attempt to be sexy and the saddest part of all is that this starts practically the day they’re born.

There are a lot of practices in this society that I find absolutely revolting. You can buy high heels for children. The intent of a high-heeled shoe, as least as I understand it from my outside male perspective, is to increase the apparent length of the leg-line and make the leg more sexually attractive. Why does a small child’s leg need to be made to look more sexually attractive? What kind of perversion is that? Children in dance and gymnastics classes are typically dressed in outfits that leave very little to the imagination. What need is there such tiny outfits? Most horrifying of all, I often see children wearing make-up. I wonder what the parent’s reaction would be if they realized that the origin of female make-up is to simulate the flushed appearance of the woman during sexual arousal. Why do you need your small child to look like she’s sexually aroused?

In most cases I think that as a society we’re just ignorant of the impacts we have on our children when we assign them such stereotypical roles so early in life. When we dress them up, or worse yet, put them in a pageant, we teach them that their appearance is the most important thing about them. Wouldn’t it be better to teach our girls that they too can go out into the world and do something great rather than sit passively and simply be eye-candy or a maid for some man?

The Real “Job One”

In my last post I spent a lot of time taking the managers of the world to task on trying to squeeze as much as they possibly can from their subordinates. I can’t help but feel it’s only fair if I turn the pillow over and take a look at the issue of employment from the side of the employee and their responsibilities toward their manager and how to effectively maintain that relationship.

When most employees start a job they think about their job duties in terms of some specific task they’ve been hired to perform. Programmers think that they’re there to write code or a baker might think they’re there to pump out pastries as fast as they can and doubtless there is some aspect of that to any job but it’s not the most important thing you’ll do in any given day. The real Job One of any employee is to foster a relationship with their manager and make themselves as easy to manage as possible. An average manager has seven direct reports and in a perfect world managing that many people would be trivially easy. Unfortunately, it’s not because the roll of a manager, in addition to managing the relationship between his employees and his own superiors is to fill in any gaps left by his employees. Ultimately your manager is responsible for the success of the entire group whereas the employee is responsible only for the success of his or her specific set of tasks. If you screw up, the person above you in the org chart pays the price in some way. So it’s in your best interest to make that person’s job as easy as possible. Doing so reflects well on your manager and also reflects well on you.

So what specifically is one to do for one’s manager? The first thing I tell the people I work with is that it’s their number one priority to raise things up to management that they think are wrong or need improvement. Many times the reaction to this statement is, “shouldn’t they know already?” The truth to this is, though, that most of the time they don’t. Even in the case that a person does a job and is then promoted to manager over that same job they used to do, the second the promotion occurs they begin to become less and less well-suited to manage that job. Jobs change over time. So the norms from the time when they did the job slowly slide into the past and become obsolete. Unless you take the time to let them know what’s really going on, they’ll manage with the only information they have, which is from ten years ago when they were doing it themselves. So providing your management with the skivvy on day to day operations is essential.

Once employees realize that managers don’t know everything, they sometimes next fall into a trap of being fearful to tell the truth about what’s going on. Mostly commonly this comes up when managers need to know that there’s just too much work to actually get done. They’ll assume that it’s viewed as a weakness if you have to say that you can’t do everything you’ve been assigned. In some cases this is a well-founded fear. If your manager is a complete jerk then he may not care that you have too much to do. Alternatively, the company may just be unable to staff appropriately to do the allotted work. Or, and you’re not going to like this, you may just not be well-suited for the job you’re doing. Any one of these three may be the case and for the first two you lose nothing by raising up your concern. If your manager was a jerk before he’ll be a jerk after so at least you got it off your chest. It’s the third case that makes people worry. They think that if they raise up a concern and it’s found that they’re just not good at their job then they’ll get fired. But why would you want to stay at a job that you suck at? With all the employment options in this country, it’s uniquely silly to slave away at a job you just don’t excel in. If you’re really no good at it, then chances are you’re not passionate about it and you probably don’t really enjoy it anyway. So what are you losing except your whole life by hanging on to a crappy job? Go do something you really enjoy. The overarching point here is that there’s nothing to be afraid of. Give your manager good feedback about what’s going on and the outcomes are all positive in the long term.

So now that we’re all telling our managers what’s going on in our jobs each day, let’s see things from their viewpoint. The first thing to know is that managing people… well, to put it simply, managing people is really, really hard. Think of it this way: if you’re a baker, you come in every day, you mix up the dough, you put it in the oven for a prescribed amount of time and it comes out looking at least somewhat like bread. Easy. Predictable. Routine. Most jobs are like this. There’s some known set of inputs and the result is some known set of outputs. They can be tangled at times but in general you know what you get out from what you put in. Managing people is an entirely different kettle of fish. Every single person in a company is different and reacts in a specific way. Each one has various things which motivate them and annoy them and make them enjoy their job (or not). Most of the time they each have their own unique communication style so not only must you try to figure out how to make them happy but you must also figure out how to translate what they actually SAY into what they actually MEAN. So when you combine individual uniqueness with sometimes inscrutable communication styles, you get a job that is not only difficult but sometimes downright frustrating to the point of impossible.

The other major point to remember here is that your manager is human too. Just as you come in to work every day and want to be successful, she too wants desperately to do well. She has a boss to whom she reports. When you don’t give accurate information about what’s going on in your job or use communication styles that she has to spend extra time unraveling you’re making her job a lot harder. Remember that as frustrated as you may be with customers or clients or end-users or whoever consumes the work you do from day-to-day, your boss’s relationship to you is similar from their perspective. You are a direct consumer of your boss’s management skills. If you make it harder for them to do their job then you’re the equivalent of the customer at the bakery who changes their mind 15 times about what the birthday cake should say on it.

Remember too that unless you work for the CEO directly, your boss also has a boss. Just because you tell them something is wrong or needs to change doesn’t mean they have the power and influence within the company to actually do anything about it. That doesn’t mean they’re not listening. It also doesn’t mean that they don’t agree with you. Just because they’re management doesn’t mean they are always heard or listened to by those above them.

In summary, management of a team, while in title it resides with one central leader, is everyone’s responsibility. Nobody really knows what’s going on in your job except you. The most important thing you can do is to accurately and promptly report to your manager so that he can do what’s best for everyone. Only the manager has visibility across all parts of the team as well as knowing what’s expected from above in the org chart. It’s also worth repeating that managers are just people too. From the bottom of the chain of command it’s easy to look up and think that everyone’s sitting in an ivory tower of authority above you. Fortunately, that’s not really true. Everyone in an organization has a boss and the CEO usually has a banker. Personally, I’d rather have a boss.

The Over/Under on Overtime

Society puts a lot of emphasis on the importance of managers in the workplace. There are a thousand books you can read about how to manage people and how to get the most out of your employees. Each view on the topic is slightly different but the fundamental underpinning of all of them is that as a manager, the harder you drive your staff and the more hours they work for you the better. If employees end up working 50 to 60 hours a week, it’s cause for celebration and adulation among the management staff.

Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that whenever employees work overtime it’s a sign of absolute failure. Your employees almost never work overtime because of something they did wrong. In the cases when they do screw up and consistently end up working overtime, they’re just not a good fit for the work they’re doing in the first place. Most typically when employees find themselves at their desk beyond the usual 40 hour workweek it’s because someone above them screwed up. Too much work was scheduled or the company was just too focused on revenue to hire appropriate staff for the workload or some other employee just isn’t doing their job in the first place. All of these lead to staff that resort to after-hours heroics to get their work done. So to the managers of the world, when a single employee submits timesheets for 50+ hours a week, it’s a sign that you need to take a serious look at them. When your whole staff submits timesheets for 50+ hours a week, you need to take a serious look at yourself. When you find yourself actually asking your staff to work overtime every week, you need to take a serious look at your whole company.

What is underappreciated about this situation is that it’s not really in the company’s best interest to have employees working overtime. Even in the situation in which it’s not something you have to pay for directly, it is something you will eventually have to deal with. Employees who work overtime to compensate for the failure of others are your best workers. They really care about their jobs and the work they do and most importantly, they really care about your company. These are the people that great companies are built around. When you consistently demand more from them week after week, you only hasten the time when these key individuals are going to take their resolve and dedication somewhere else. The costs of replacing a good employee are astronomical. In some cases, it’s just plain impossible and when it happens your company might never be the same.

Further, when employees work overtime it’s not just their tenure with the company that suffers. If your staff is forced to work longer hours you can bet that it’s not the most efficient work they’re doing. When a person realizes that they’re “stuck at work” for 50 hours a week it’s likely that an increasing percentage of that time is just lost to the ether of water cooler banter and other random distractions. An employee who knows they can put in their 8 hours in a day and then go home to her family is more likely to be focused on her work and actually produce better output. Not to mention, when the time comes that you have to ask for more hours because a big project is due, they’ll look at it as a novelty and put more energy into it than they would have if they’d been forced to work overtime every single week. When overtime becomes the norm, then work is reduced to a mindless grind. Employees come in, sit at their desks and grind through their jobs in an almost Zen state. Innovation in this environment is almost nil. There’s no reason to do things better or more efficiently because what is most certain to greet them the next week is yet another week of too much work. In an environment in which there’s a proper balance between life and work, employees feel relaxed and free to innovate. In some technical trades especially, demanding fewer hours actually nets you more work. An employee who feels valued by his company and is allowed to work in an environment that respects his free time is more likely to contribute that free time back to the company in one form or another whether it’s thinking about the big project on the ride home or sitting down to create some new tool that will make their job easier in the future. Happy employees will naturally contribute more to your company all by themselves. If you enslave them they’ll do exactly what’s expected and then go home to complete their résumés.

Some of you out there may read this and say to yourselves that you realize all this but that you’ve got it covered. Your company, you say, has a policy. In your company, everybody’s expected to work 50 hours a week. You even tell your new hires that when they hire on so it’s expected. It’s equal for everyone so it’s OK. Unfortunately, this is a crock. Even if your company has a policy that raises the bar of expectations, the simple fact is that you can’t raise the bar for the entirety of society. Every company in the world isn’t just competing internally but is in fact in competition directly with every other company in the area for quality employees. The greater the gap between your company’s expectations of employees and those of your competitors, the greater the chance that those tried and true employees that you’ve relied on for years are going to wave the white flag and go somewhere else.

What’s saddest of all about this situation is that employees really do want to do well. They want to be appreciated for what they do and feel that they’re contributing positively to the company. When you consistently expect people to work overtime, you reduce passionate and dedicated employees who would have worked longer hours for you anyway into mere drudges who pound out the hours as a matter of required course.

Off the Grid

The other night I bought a new phone. This phone is a lot different from its predecessor in a lot of very important ways. For example, when I ask it to send a text message, it is not required that I go make a sandwich while I wait for it to complete that task. Additionally, when people attempt to call me (which they rarely really attempt to call me) it actually makes a noise as if it wishes in some very kind way to alert me to the fact that someone is trying to contact me. It is features like these that have allowed me to craft a relationship with this new phone in such a short period of time which is far superior to previous phone relationships I’ve had in which I wish nothing more than to hurl the phone across the room and batter it against a wall rejoicing as it explodes into a million little pieces.

With this wonderful piece of technology I can read my email both from work and from my ever-busy personal email account in real time. I can download an app that will alert me immediately whenever one of my beloved Facebook friends posts a new photograph of a happy kitten clinging by its delicate, tiny claws to a clothesline. “Oh! Hang in there kitty,” I will doubtless gasp! For the small sum of 99 cents I can get an app that will tell me whenever anyone else who’s running that app is in the neighborhood and I even know where everyone I’ve ever met is at every single moment of every single day. And don’t even get me started on the amazing hourly updates on the doings of everyone’s favorite Croatian Footballer Slaven Bilic. Twitter you will be my lifeline to the world!

I could, but frankly, fuck that. Why in the hell would I need to know in near real time, while I’m driving down the street, when some damned blog spammer from upper Yakutsk leaves me a blog comment that says, “I’m glad to be able to join this wonderful community.” Seriously. So this phone will be just that. A phone. If somebody REALLY thinks they need to contact me, they can call but I’m done with being outside in the forest and hearing the phone go “BLOOP” because someone sent me an offer to download an illegal copy of some movie that I’ve never heard of and will doubtless never watch.

In a slightly more serious vein, it’s easy to get addicted to the constant input that today’s overly-connected age offers us. We can choose to deluge ourselves with any number of things at all times. I can listen to radio live from Australia, monitor a dozen email accounts and be alerted to the goings on of enough people that I’d be able to accomplish precious little else except passively accept that input. The consequence of all that is that instead of focusing on each other and forging relationships with people who are actually in the room, we’re all constantly staring at our phones. The ‘new email’ alert sounds and the tension builds second by second to see who will check their phone first to see if this email is the pirated movie download I’ve been waiting for all these years!

So with that, I’m done with the age of communications. My phone will serve me and be my slave, not the other way around. And with that out of the way… let’s do lunch!

Schrödinger's Other Blog

Very nearly six years ago I wrote an entry about how the mere act of observing someone’s blog creates the potential for that blog and its contents to change (link). I had no end of fun comparing the world of online authorship to that of Quantum Mechanics. Now, half a decade later, one of my readers has indicated that it’s just possible that I’m white-washing my past and, in fact, my own persona, for the purposes of making a good impression on my readers. The sad fact is though, that like every writer who expects his work to be read by others, I am.

Some things have to be revised because it’s just not proper to be absolutely candid when other people are involved. There are certain people in my life that I don’t write about and that I will never write about because their stories are not mine to write. It’s all well and good for me to reveal myself as the opinionated and mildly assholish person that I am, but it’s entirely another for me to tell the world anything about the few people who currently or at one time found themselves in my innermost circle. So in that respect, yes, vast tracts of my history are missing from the chronicles of my life that this blog and my autobiography (link) represent. While some might see that as revisionist I see that as simple common courtesy. If you find yourself saddened by your absence from these pages or upset by your reduction to a single pronoun within them, then I apologize. It is not because your presence was not appreciated in my life but because I simply wish to respect your privacy and let the story of your life be written by the one who was closest to it. It is to the detriment of this blog and to the detriment of my story that you are (all) omitted, but it seems only right that it be so. If you wish to be heard, read one of the 27 entries I’ve written on the topic of “why you, yes you, should write” and write your own story.

Vast asides spoken in poorly enunciated stage whispers behind us, the other half of the comment was that I’m white-washing my own personality, preferences and desires as I portray them here. I would posit that any writing of a personal nature portrays who we want to be and how we want others to see us. Nothing I write here is untrue. I aspire to be all that I describe here. The things I write constitute my own moral compass, my standard for behavior, my sense of right and wrong. However, that is a much different thing than saying that I can adhere to my own image of absolute moral rectitude with 100% regularity. The very definition of humanity is at least in part one of admitting that we are all flawed and I am no less so than anyone else despite the somewhat egotistical bent to some of my posts. Further, since I don’t subscribe to religion of any sort, I must sieve out right and wrong in my own way and my vehicle for doing that is what you see before you. I claim no divinity or perfection even in a religion crafted carefully around my own deeply-held beliefs.

To summarize, yes, I agree that sometimes my writings do fall away from strict and absolute truth, but I think the reasons for this are both clear and necessary. On both accounts I wish it were not so. I wish that society was open and honest enough with itself that we could all share our stories openly and honestly and without reservations. That we could all sit down and read every side of every story. I wish too that I was perfect in the execution of my own belief systems, cobbled together so haphazardly from my own experiences. The former I have no remedy for. The latter I can simply say that I will persist in my attempts to do better. I value those who have the courage to come forward and tell me if I deviate from the truth in any item no matter how seemingly minor. I will take your observations to heart and do my utmost to stay on the narrow but meandering path that I have chosen for myself in life.

Eleanor Rigby

Almost two years ago I wrote a post that was a sad analogy of my own life and today I was told a story that made me realize with great clarity that there are a lot of people in that same situation. What’s more, they are the least deserving of that situation of us all. Sadly, the details of this particular situation are not mine to tell but it did make me think about the complex interactions between people and the reasons why they sometimes fail.

There are a lot of really lonely people in the world who, for whatever reason, just fail to connect with those around them. They find themselves isolated and alone in the world despite the fact that they’re very giving people who have a lot to contribute to the life of another yet nobody comes to their door to accept that gift. Worse than a man in solitary confinement, walking through day-to-day life looking at other people interacting with one another while you feel connected to no one is akin to emotional suffocation. The human animal is a social one and denying them that outlet is as dangerous as withholding food or water. But the question arises, why are people lonely in the first place? How can it be that someone can fail to connect when there are six billion people out there to connect with? Clearly it’s not the fault of the six billion if this connection fails to occur, so the fault, if there is a fault, must lie with the person who is lonely.

It would seem that the underlying causes for failing to connect personally with others fall into three broad categories. The first is simply that the person in question fails to actually make emotional contact with anyone. Typically this is because of some level of shyness or personal reserve. They avoid social situations altogether or when they do, they don’t actually approach anyone. Often this can be caused by low self-worth, the thought “why would anyone want to talk to me?” being a common thread or the idea that others won’t want to be disturbed by whatever they have to say. When someone is repeatedly in social situations and fails to make contact it builds cumulatively and reinforces the idea that their presence and participation is not welcomed or wanted.

The second category is simply a failure to recognize the outreach of others. Social interactions are two-way streets and as much as the shy person may stay couched in their safe corner there are always others in the group who are reaching out. Unfortunately, just because the outreach is made doesn’t mean that it’s recognized as such and reacted to appropriately. Often, if the person is isolated enough emotionally the interaction with someone else may actually come as a huge shock and make it difficult to react to. Like a person awoken suddenly from a deep slumber, it is sometimes hard to shift gears quickly between the sum of one’s inner thoughts and interacting with someone else. By the time this shift occurs, the other person has moved on. The result is one person who becomes even more shy and reserved out of embarrassment and another who won’t reach out again because the results were so poor the first time. Like the first category, this issue is cumulative and over time the results can completely tear down one’s self-esteem.

The third part of the problem is the most complex and the most difficult to remedy. Even in the case that contact has been made and recognized this is no guarantee that any relevant interaction will actually take place. Symptoms of this include the blank stare one receives from a joke that absolutely nobody “got” or long periods of non-participation because the topic at discussion just doesn’t appeal to one person in the group. Often the only cure for this particular ill is to find a different crowd altogether that does share more common interests. Fortunately for the vast majority of people, this isn’t a problem. Given an interest in sports you can have a conversation with just about anyone. Woe though to the non-sports fan. This does, however, bring us to an interesting subset of the problem. In many cases there develops a situation in which the only relevant contact between people happens to revolve around their shared workplace. They can chatter along all day work but any interaction outside of that fades rapidly because there’s just not enough common ground. While work-based interactions can be satisfying to a point, they don’t have the real power of a truly personal connection. They are a starting point rather than an end point.

So now that I’ve blathered on in a most clinical manner for a couple of pages, where does that leave us? What do we do about this or do we even care? What would be lost if some part of the population just stayed off in the corner out of the way and let the rest of us talk about the “big game”? Is it worth fostering relationships of any kind with the oddballs of the world? I leave that question as an exercise to the reader, but personally I’d like to find a few of these people and dig about in their heads for a bit. I find it utterly impossible to talk about sports or video games or lawn care or whatever the plebian masses banter on about for any length of time at all and as a result I don’t tend to make a lot of personal connections with people. The story I was told last night though assures me that they’re out there. The interesting masses live quietly at the fringes of our society and lack only an invitation to dinner. (or perhaps twenty invitations if they’re shy)