Amateur Hour - Existentialism

Last year Sherry and I were engaged in one of those 'heavy' discussions. Working off of the 'brain in a vat' theory popularized by movies such as Vanilla Sky or The Matrix, you are likely already familiar with this concept through pop culture.

I asked her, "how do you know that you exist"? After some conversation and a few ideas we bounced around, she concluded that because she feels pain, she exists. I reached over and pinched her, saying something silly like "there, now we know you exist!" Her retaliatory slug confirmed both our existences. Although there are some gaps in that construct (is pain part of the dream?) we finally agreed that it seemed like a reasonable conclusion.

Fast forward to today. I've been reading in philosophy, and especially existentialism. I'll admit that I am an amateur, and even a gross amateur in the realm of philosphy. However, the more I study the more I'm intrigued by the not only the depth of the intellectual abyss to which existentialism plummets, but also the breadth of philosophical proponents who have shaped the world we live in. The breadth includes Christian influences such as Kierkagaard (who some call the father of existentialism), Nietzsche, an anti-Christian, Sartre and Camus who were atheists.

One thing the various views do have in common is the search and journey for true self and personal meaning in life. From there though the views wildly diverge.

Consider Kierkagaard's definition of self (from The Sickness Unto Death, Chapter A):

A human being is spirit. But what is spirit? Spirit is the self. But what is the self? The self is a relation that relates itself to itself or is the relation's relating itself to itself in the relation; the self is not the relation but is the relation's relating itself to itself.

I love thinking about stuff like this. And that is why the title of this blog is "blah blah blahg! As I continue to imbibe in the fountain of thought, I'm sure this is not the last time I'll write about philosophy. And I'm also sure this is not the last time Sherry, Claudia, Reed, et al will remark "blah blah blah"

The truth, and nothing but the truth.

I'm in a cranky mood.

Sure, you are probably a recipient of one. Or more than one. Sure, it's possible that you have even forwarded one yourself. And maybe; in the dark corners of the recesses of an evil mind in the middle of the night - maybe you've even made one up!

Yes, I'm talking about the tear-invoking, tragedy mirroring, goose-bump engendering emails describing a heinous evil, impending disaster or a plea for assistance in some way. You are compelled to forward it to every single person you know so that they too may escape calamity or send money to somewhere or do something out of compassion. Sometimes the communication is just too good to be true, or something that plays on our worst fears or greatest joys that MUST be sent on so that you can sleep at night. Yeah, I'm on a rant and you can probably discern that I was just sent one.

You know what I'm talking about don't you? One of the greatest parodies of these kinds of email is the sad story of the Burlap Boy:

I am a very sick boy little boy. My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She is crying. "Don't cry, Mommy!" Mommy is always sad, but she says it's not my fault. I asked her if it was God's fault, but she didn't answer, and only started crying harder, so I don't ask her that anymore.

The reason she is so sad is that I'm so sick. I was born without a body. It doesn't hurt, except when I go to sleep. The doctors gave me an artificial body. My body is a burlap bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do on account of us having no money or insurance. I would like to have a body transplant, but we need more money.

Mommy doesn't work because she said employers don't hire crying people. I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and she hugged my burlap body. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though she's allergic to burlap, and it chafes her real bad. I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this letter.

Dr. Johansen said if you forward this letter then Bill Gates would team up with AOL and do a survey with NASA. Then the astronauts will collect prayers from school children all over America and take them up to space so that the angels can hear them better. Then they will go to the Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and send the money to the doctors. The doctors could help me better then. Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Or maybe just use my lungs and heart, when the doctors make them. The doctors said that every time you forward this letter, the astronauts could take another prayer to the angels.

Please help me. Mommy is so sad, and I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn 10.

If you don't forward this letter, that's OK. Mommy says you're a mean heartless person who doesn't care about a poor little boy with only a head. What kind of heartless person are you that you can't take a couple of measly minutes to forward this to all your friends so that they can feel guilt and shame for the rest of their day, and then maybe help a poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy?

Please help me. This is not very much fun. I try to be happy but it's hard. I wish I had a puppy. I wish I could hold a puppy. Thank You.

Billy 'Smiles' Evans

I'm thankful though that we have a place to turn to so that the email message can be verified. Where do you turn to when you need the truth? Snopes of course!

But, who Snopes Snopes?

Reminiscing

I'll admit it. I'm a product of the 60's & 70's, having spent my teen years in long hair, bell bottom Levis and waffle stompers. If you don't know what waffle stompers are then you can skip this entry. Let's take an illustrated walk through the past, shall we?

The first family of TV:



It won't take long before you recognize and make the connection to this group. I think Marcia was my first crush, followed by Susan Dey from the Partridge Family. To this day they still write me letters and compete for my attention. Being happily married I politely decline each advance.

Can you name this young lady?

How can you write about the 70's and not make a reference about Farah Fawcett? There's something about this picture that is noteworthy. And not her hair or bottom. Check out those Nikes! Those babies started an empire.

All the news that is fit to print:

The teenagers! Yikes - what they are really like! There are several items in this picture that I find interesting. The forty cents price for one. The anonymity of the poor guy driving the bike. Who was he? Where did he end up? How did he get to be the driver? The specter of existentialism looms above his head. Rember Brian Dunkelman?

Of course you don't. He stated his departure from American Idol was due to the terrible way they treated the young contestants on the show, staging the fights between the judges and reshooting contestants with producer-provided, glycerin tears in their eyes. He went on to say that leaving the show was a mistake. Shaaaah! I bet he wishes he was Ryan Seacrest now. Anyway, enough about the anonymous dude.

The young lady in this picture is named Jan Smith (Karin Jan Smithers). This cover picture actually launched her career, creating bit parts in Murder, She Wrote, The Fall Guy, The Love Boat, Mike Hammer and most famously 86 episodes in WKRP in Cincinnati.

On 7 September of 2007 her car broke down. Alledgely and according to reports, she was driving naked and when exiting her vehicle for assistance was struck and injured. I suppose the proverb we would learn from this experience is not to drive in our birthday suits.

Finally, and the thing I find hilarious is that Jan's head covers the headline of the article that now causes it to read "New eek". When you think of teenagers, do you think "eek"?

Lunchtime!

Wow. This brings back memories. Took a bit of time to find this picture. When I was a kid, we had metal lunchboxes to tote our food around in. I remember having several lunch boxes as they would get battered and bent, but this one sticks out in my mind. Yes, I was the proud owner of a lunchbox just like this, I'm guessing it was about 1965-67.

It came with a Campbell's Tomato Soup thermos. I haven't bothered to check the timing but as I recall it was an Andy Warhol endorsed product or somehow tied to him. Even then I was cool, and thought this was cool. I wish I still had that lunchbox today. It wouldn't have been in as good as condition as this one, but can you guess how much this is being sold for on eBay? $450.00!

Trivia: metal lunch boxes were eventually retired, allegedly due to the increased us as a schoolyard weapon. The last metal lunch box was made in 1985, and appropriately enough it was a Rambo lunch box - ready to beat someone up with.

Ah, for simpler times...

Dream Diary

I dreamt that Sherry and I were guests at a big barbecue hosted by Dog the Bounty Hunter. It was an enormous affair, replete with many guests arriving in hot rods and choppers.

I had just bought a chopped and channeled fenderless 1932 Deuce Coupe, with a Chevy 427 big block fed by an 850 CFM double pumper, dual feed Holley carburetor.

Why is this level of detail significant? I dream in color, and the air cleaner was painted candy apple red like the rest of the car. I knew the motor was a big block bowtie, I the cylinder heads (from my time spent in an automotive machine shop) topped with Moroso gold anodized valve covers.

I remember a light rain was falling on the way to the bbq. I was fearful that the plug wires, not being shielded by a hood and fenders would allow moisture to get in and kill a few plugs. I thought I would stop by an auto parts store and get some WD-40 to spray in the wire ends if I needed to but then the drizzle stopped.

The party was attended by a large mob of people. I walked over to what appeared to be a space age porta-potty. There were a few people line waiting to use it. A guy poked me in the ribs and said it was a trick porta-potty. He said 'watch this'. Someone walked in, closed the door and commenced with their business. All of a sudden the door went transparent! Everyone laughed.

Suddenly, I was walking through a gauntlet of guests. The weird thing was that every single one of them had a dog on a leash. The dogs were snarling and whimpering as I walked by. The reason for their aggresive or fearful behavior is what was on the end of the leash I was carrying! I had a young lion with it's head held high, calmly surveying the canine cabal. Dog the Bounty Hunter thought that was hilarious.

Then I woke up.

LinkedIn Park - 20 ways to use LinkedIn

Get it - Linkin Park, LinkedIn Park? Sigh, someone out there is saying "Daaavvvee" in a derogatory way. Anway, let's move on. I've been using LinkedIn, a powerful and popular networking software that is oriented toward careers; for about 3 years now.

In these times, as you've heard many times a strong network is a powerful asset. This year, I set a goal for 2009 to have 500 contacts. Here it is Q1, and to my surprise I've already blown through that goal. I'd like to share some tips with you that I've found useful:

1. Be wary of 'scalp hunting'. I've had to reign myself in a few times where my motives were probably incorrect, that is to say to get a connection for a connection's sake, rather than to connect for a valid reason.


2. Set LinkedIn as your homepage. That way I get the latest updates when I first open my browser.


3. Watch the Connection Updates section very closely. It has not been uncommon for one of my contacts to connect with someone that I had lost track of, and then connect with them.


4. Never use the "I'd like to add you to my professional network on LinkedIn." default text for connecting. Doesn't show a lot of interest. Give at least one, and preferably two reasons why you would like to connect with that person.


5. Make your invite reciprocal - when sending an invite, put yourself in the invitees shoes - why would they want to connect with you? What can you offer them?


6. Use your yearbooks - it could be tedious but go through your yearbooks every now and then and look for old classmates on LinkedIn. Don't just focus on the 'most likely to succeed" people. I found one friend I had been close to many years ago and we had fallen out of touch. It was awesome to connect with him and catch up, he's now managing an architectural firm in Tokyo!


7. Send a note once in a while. 500+ contacts is a lot of people to keep track of. Every now and then I'll send a note to one of my contacts - something along the lines of "hey just thinking of you, how's it going?" Give them an out, we're all busy: "No need to respond, just hoping all is well".


8. Browse your connections. If your connection(s) have opened up their connection list for you to view, once in a while take a peek. You may find someone you know, or someone you would like to connect with.


9. Watch for companies that have employees signing up for LinkedIn. I used to work for US Bank, and it was fascinating to see a few of my former colleagues pop up on LinkedIn, and then it spread like cream cheese on bagels! I remember one day when 50 (fifty) USB folk had joined LinkedIn.


10. Review the "who's viewed my profile". Although it may not be a direct way to connect with people, it can be interesting to see who has looked at your profile and may give you some tips. Note that it is often indirect, that is to say that you may not always know who exactly has looked at your profile.


11. Help other LinkedIn users. Remeber that what goes around, comes around! Because I do try to use a personalized connection, if someone has asked me to forward an invite to someone else I typically will know my contact well enough to not hesitate to do that.


12. I'll finish with tips on making good use of groups. Groups have provided some good contacts for me, including those who I don't know (follow tips 4&5). Groups are one of the most powerful tools on LinkedIn. Let me expand on that:


13. Look for groups related to your education, experiences, interests and/or hobbies. If we are connected, look at my groups. I not only have groups for my job experience, but other industry groups. My current position involves software, products, banks and credit unions. I look for goups in those categories.


14. Hide some of your groups. I am a member of more groups than you see on my profile. They provide me with valuable information, but I don't want to come across as pretentious on my profile.


15. Related to #12, I have had a few people want to connect with me through groups. In looking at their profile I have seen up to fifty groups or more before LinkedIn restricted membership to I think 30 groups. C'mon people! That's a sign to me of a scalp hunter. Some may disagree with me, but I call it like I see it. If you REALLY have a direction connection with a bazillion groups, hide some of them to appear more credible.


16. Hide a duplicate group. I belong to two US Bank groups (there are probably more!) but I've hidden one of them. I think one is enough to display but that's just my take on it.


17. Have a few groups related to your hobbies/non work related interests. On my profile you can see Kierkegaard. There's a whopping 17 (seventeen!) in the Kierkegaard group. It was started by a guy in europe and we've had some great conversations, as well as allowing me to make some international connections.


18. Create groups! I've created two groups you can see on my profile, Hood to Coast and Legacy Corillian. As people have requested to join, we already have one thing in common (the group of interest) and maybe more. I often will invite them to connect with me as I add them to the group. I'm not offended if they decline! A funny story - Corillian was acquired by CheckFree, then CheckFree was acquired by Fiserv. I started the Legacy Corillian group, and then received a request to join from the original CEO who founded Corillian - "uh, well....OK.....".


19. Be cautious about creating groups! I try to look for any notification that a logo is a registered trademark, with use of the logo by permission only. As a finisher of the Honolulu Marathon, I intended to create a group but will play by the rules and contact them for permission. When I get around to it!


20. Use Group Discussions. Ask a question, or respond to one. Ask or respond with validity, to not just blah blah blah but with true intent behind the question or response. Again your credibility can be ascertained so keep that in mind.

In closing, use LinkedIn with integrity. To me, it's more than a social exercise, it's people - people who can help you and that you can help. Don't abuse that privilege!

Go Rough Riders!

In these tough times, it is inspiring when you hear a good story. I'd like to share one that I was privileged to be personally involved in. On Thursday February 19 we got some friends together and went to Roosevelt high school to cheer on the Roosevelt Rough Riders girls basketball team. It was the last game of the season, and they had not won a game.

Our pastor challenged us to be a church that is involved in a community in a positive way. Our church has developed a unique relationship with Roosevelt, and we wanted to respond in a tangible way to cheer the team on and show our support for the Rough Riders. The response was overwhelming, we had an estimated 400 people from our our church attended along with other groups rooting for the Rough Riders. We screamed, whistled, yelled, clapped, waved, cheered, stomped our feet and generally behaved like high schoolers ourselves!

Although Roosevelt did not win the game, they lost by only one basket. It was awesome. As columnist Steve Duin wrote:

For one night, the stands were full and the playing field was level. For one night, the fans -- "We have fans?" the Roosevelt girls were surely thinking -- convinced a winless basketball team that it could do no wrong.

For one glorious night, the community laid hands on a high school that has been left by far too many for dead.

At the end of the loneliest of seasons, 1,600 cheerleaders packed the Roosevelt gym Tuesday for the Rough Riders' final home game, then spent two hours applauding Ahoefa Ananouko on the boards, Ericca Ducre on the break and Ilena Allen at the three-point arc.

Lest you think that I left my ego at home, I suppose I should point out that I was in a picture not only on the Oregon Live website, but also on the front page of the Oregonian newspaper. Where's Dave you might ask? He's above the guy in the yellow shirt.

Dream Diary

I dreamt that I was riding a motorcycle though country roads. It was a fine fall days, the trees were yellow and red with brilliance. It was cool but not cold, and the sun provided a moderate amount of warmth. As I rode I had a need to relieve myself. Seeing a rest stop, I roared into the parking lot, but was going too fast. I pitched the bike sideways, and with the engine roaring did a berm shot off a curb, slid into an overflow parking lot, and did a 180 degree turn to perfectly position the motorcycle into a parking spot.

As I exited the parking lot, a guy pulled off the road into the parking lot and then cut me off! Let's just say I was offended. He had a really odd Triumph, it had a fairing and fenders that made it look like a boat. It was painted a pale blue. He then roared off in the opposite direction I was going.

Regaining my composure, I continued down the road. The road ended at a "T' interesection. I was intending to turn right, but there was a police officer at the intersection who was waving everyone to the left. I asked him if I could turn right and he said no, the road was closed.

I turned left and continued riding beautiful country roads. I soon realilzed I was lost, but the day was beautiful and I was not concerned. As the afternoon waned and evening approached, I realized that I had no idea where I was.

Soon realizing I needed clear directions or a place to stay for the night, I took a side road that led to a farmhouse. I approached, knocked on the door and an older, skinny, decimated farmer wearing bib overalls and missing a few teeth opened the door. I explained my predicament and he drawled out that I wouldn't find my way in the dark and it would be best, and I would be welcome; to stay the night.

As I entered the house, I realized how run down and dilapidated the house was. The only light came from a kerosene lantern, and as I was ushered to my room I could see no sign of electricity. Making my way through broken and beat up furniture, I went to the room I was offered. The room only had a dirty mattress and a couple of blankets. Nothing else. I felt a sense of creepiness and lay down. The mattress had been placed next to a wall. I turned my head and I could see some marks on the wall. With the moonlight streaming through the window, I could make out the words...and numbers....

It was my name, and a cell phone number that I used to have! OK, now I'm really creeped out - terror descended on me and I resolved to not sleep but keep on guard. Eventually though my eyes grew heavy with slumber and I fell into a restless sleep. I woke startled, and realized that the sun was coming up. With the advent of daylight came a sense of safety. I got up and walked into the hallway. Into a deserted house. There was no furniture, no old farmer, not one thing in the house. Puzzled, I walked through the house and into the room I slept in. There was no mattress, no blankets. On the rough wood of the wall, I could see that my name and cell phone number still remained!

I thought it best that I leave, and leave I did -as fast as I could.


And then I woke up.

Breakthrough!

We often think of breakthrough as a positive term, as in a scientific breakthrough that will help cure a disease, or overcoming an obstacle of some kind.

To an epileptic, the word has a different meaning. On December 30 2008 I had a breakthrough. Pushing through the medication I take, a seizure reared it's ugly head and broke almost 3 years of dormancy.

I was at work, and discussing a very technical database issue with two colleagues. We were scribbling on a white board, and I distinctly remember difficulty making out the words and following the conversation. I went down unconscious on the floor. I've learned to stay away from DBA's.




Next thing I knew I was being pulled out of an ambulance at the hospital and seeing my wife. I'm not sure why but seizures make me emotional. When I saw her I started crying and said "honey I had a seizure". She reassured me as I was brought into the ER. I quickly returned to manly man status and didn't cry anymore.

The doctor monitored my vitals, pronounced me as being OK and had me stay for an hour or two while I recovered and came fully alert. Sherry took me home and then I slept the rest of the day. The only side effect is that I bit my tongue again. Actually, let me tell you truthfully - I LACERATED my tongue. On the bottom of my tongue you could see 3 clear puncture wounds from my bottom teeth. On the top of my tongue was a nasty wound where one of my incisors shredded my tongue. It hurt so bad and it was a week before I could talk clearly again.


One thing that was amusing was the customer service survey I received from the ambulance company - was the ambulance clean and organized? Dunno, I was unconscious. Did the ambulance arrive quickly? Dunno, I was unconscious. Were the paramedics excellent, good, fair or poor? Dunno, I was unconscious. But it was very nice of them to send the survey.

Then, on Feb 3rd 2009 I had another seizure. I felt kind of weird, and went home to work at home the rest of the day. As I worked I began to feel somewhat nauseous and light headed. As my consciousness began to fade I realized that I was entering into a seizure. I remember vaguely thinking that I need to go lay down. I laid down but things got blurry - I believe I dipped into unconsciousness briefly, but only for a short period of time. I got up and returned to my home office to resume work.


I was apparently still somewhere in the midst of the seizure. I tried to work but was having great difficulty. Then a tangible, horrific sense of utter despair gripped me. I struggle to find the words to accurately describe the blackness that descended and enveloped me with a sense of dread like I've never experienced before. Think of every adjective you can of evil - malignant, horrific, terrifying, confusion - it was that bad.

The grand mal seizure that requires an ER trip I liken to lightning, where the second type of seizure was more of what I liken to rolling thunder. It wasn't a petit mal, but not a grand mal either. Sometimes I think the grand mal lightning strike might be preferable, as with unconsciousness comes the escaping of the blackness of the thunder.

Where do we go from here? I've been put on another medication (Keppra) in addition to the Lamictal I'm already taking. Seems to be working fine. However, I want to find out if at all possible why the breakthrough happened. Might be time for another MRI and EEG. Of course, the results may be disturbing:

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

In my continual efforts to be a good husband, I often make a mental note of Sherry's plans so I can then recite them back to her at the end of the day and ask something like "How'd your lunch appointment with Angelina Jolie go?".

Now, I have an uncanny, almost preternatural ability to notice if a woman has styled her hair differently, a new cut, style, color or any other number of categories. But wait, it's even weirder - I don't fixate on hair, I never consciously note how "Jane" has styled her hair and if it is different. It just happens.

So anyway, Sherry had told me that she was getting her hair done one fine morning. Being a good husband, a sticky note was attached to my grey matter, ready to compliment her at the end of the day.

The hour arrived, and I gasped as she entered the room - "The cut, the style - the way that it frames the delicate features of your face". I was in fine form, pontificating perfectly with vocabulary of the vernacular delivered with astounding articulation.

She said "I rescheduled my appointment". Nothing was done to her hair. I was humiliated.

(apologies to CB)