Thunder of Wade

I made some progress the other night with the punching bag. I got into a good rhythm and felt pretty confident. And powerful – which for all my bluster I’m not really used to feeling. I paused for a moment to catch my breath and adjust the hand-wraps when I noticed that there was a little pink color on the cloth.

Frowning, I investigated further – thinking I hadn’t wrapped my knuckles properly and was bleeding. But, my hands were fine – no blood.

The pink color was coming from the red bag.

I had punched the color off it.

More likely is that I had sweat a bit and the moisture had leached a little dye off the canvas.

Still, I felt a little bad-ass. Which is entirely the point.
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That bad ass feeling didn’t last, though. I wasn’t feeling great at work yesterday and then got stuck in all kinds of traffic when I foolishly decided to run some errands after work. My last stop was to the drugstore for something to help with the sinus pressure.

The were about 17 million different varieties of medicine on the shelves and a couple more million represented by cards you had to take to the pharmacy to buy.

I stood there, scanning the labels and boxes for a bit – growing more frustrated. Finally, I picked up one of the cards that looked promising and took it to the counter.

I asked if this would help with sinus pressure and the clerk at the counter had to check. She then went looking for the box, had to ask about that, was told the box was red and replied that all the boxes were red.

I waited.

She came back, asked for my driver’s license – which I already had out, naturally – and proceeds to scan that to start ringing up the sale.

But, of course, I had to “prove” that I wasn’t going to take this home and make meth out of it.

So, a couple of screens of text, a check box, and a signature. Then discount card questions, a couple other things I can’t even remember, and finally the actual payment.

When I was done getting through all that and had completed the transaction, I raised my hands in victory and gave about a 1/25 volume shout – all I could manage. The clerk smiled and I told her I should get a sticker just for getting through all that.

As I headed out, it occurred to me that this could have been prevented by having a button the clerk could select labeled:

“He looks terrible, but I don’t think it’s meth.”

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I took the day off today and spent most of it asleep. Just me and the cat, curled up and trying to rest.

I think I’ll fix myself some dinner and spend the evening not checking my email.

Ah, bliss.

A large chunk of my professional life has been tech support.  I started full time at UA on the Help Desk and if I’ve got a calling, it’s been in helping people with technology.

We’ve still got a couple of gaps in the switchboard schedule and so on Friday mornings I grab my laptop and answer the main phone for the university. I usually work on my emails while I’m on the calls – they don’t take a lot of brain power usually and I can switch gears pretty easily.

On one recent Friday, I answered the phone with my usual “Good Morning, University of Akron, how may I help you?”

An older woman – I could hear it in her voice – responded with, “It’s nice to hear a man answering the phones,”

She went on to ask for a department and I transferred her over.

And… I wasn’t quite sure how to take that.

I guess, yea for me in bucking traditional gender roles in the workplace?

But, why does it matter?

My female student operators would have done just as well answering the phones  – my only advantage over them is that I’m so freaking old that I know everything about the University. I’ve been told I have a pleasant voice and it kicks into a deeper range in the early morning. My female operators have ‘brighter’ voices, but either gets the job done.

It seems so weird to me that there are gender traditional jobs – when gender is so irrelevant. Plant a tree, pilot a rocket, stock a shelf, design a building – gender doesn’t matter in the least. I’m happy being a guy and being able to pee standing up is pretty awesome – but there’s not much of a job market for that skill.

For my part, I hired one female and one male operator to add to the schedule. He had experience and a pleasant voice – and that was good enough for me. As we have turn-over in the schedule, I’ll do my part to hire a better gender balance for that role. Maybe, in a small way, I can do a little bit to bring some gender equality to our workforce.

The past few weeks at work have been very stressful. Not enough hours in the day to even stay caught up, much less get ahead. Add in the new responsibilities to my job and I was starting to cook in my own skin.

On a particularly rough day, it occurred to me that I was spending 8 hours on a computer at work and then coming home to another computer where I would “unwind” by blowing up and hacking apart monsters in a video game.

This is clearly not the best approach to de-stressing.

Years ago I had a room-mate that owned a free-standing punching bag and I enjoyed wailing away on that to de-stress. I was a little worried about how my arm would do, but decided to give it a try. So, I set out to buy one of these for my house.

And that simple trip turned into an ordeal of inconsequential depth. From the moment I left work until I finally got home was one tiny slight after another. Traffic, parking, sales clerks, other customers, that accursed woman at Wendy’s who couldn’t decided if she didn’t want tomatoes or mayo on her sandwich.  “MAKE UP YOUR MIND!”

Over and over again, I felt myself get angrier and angrier. For really no reason – on their own, each slight was very nearly meaningless.

It was the cumulative affect – like radiation poisoning – that just kept building up. Several times, I took a deep breath and by force of will slammed a new perspective in place.

It didn’t last.

I was reminded of a form of torture and execution called The Death of A Thousand Cuts. This was from China and was legal up until 1905 – it was inflicted on only the most heinous offenders.

The accounts vary, but in most cases the guilty would be cut many many times by very sharp knives – death was usually by bleeding out.

A merciful executioner would make the first cut fatal and the rest of the cuts were to disfigure the body. The point of this was the belief that a person would enter the afterlife looking like how their body was. So, disfiguring the corpse would torment the person for eternity as a reminder of their crimes.

And each tiny slight in my day, each meaningless disruption, felt like a tiny paper cut.

Or a cardboard cut, those are worse.

I was mentally exhausted by the time I got home. I did get the bag set up and while I was filling the base with water I finally got myself settled down. I went after the bag for a bit and then took a shower and went to bed.

The next day I went from work to home to the bag and the physical exertion did way more for me than blowing up zombies on a screen.

I guess comparing a “day of being annoyed” to “execution by disfigurement” is not really the best analogy, but it sure felt like it at the time.

Things have finally settled down a bit at work – as I knew they eventually would – but I’m going to try to make the punching bag a daily thing.

When I worked on the computer help desk way back when, I imagined my patience was like a bucket that would get slowly drained over the day. Over-night I would refill the bucket and start the day again with a full amount of patience.

Now it feels more like I’ve got a bucket of annoyance that starts off empty and then fills up over the day. And the punching back should help me empty that bucket again.

I know – objectively – that I’m doing fine.   I have friends that have much more stressful jobs or are facing job uncertainties and in the grand scheme of things I’m making a big deal out of a lot of little nothings.   I guess what I need to learn how to do is to just as quickly get myself calmed down after getting worked up.   Or maybe just not get worked up at all – though that seems unrealistic.

Until then, I’m going to show that punching bag who’s boss.

I’m a fan of quantum mechanics and though the math is beyond me, I really like the idea that things in the universe are deeply weird.

One of my favorite parts is the idea of quantum entanglement or Spooky Action at a Distance. To sum it up, the idea is that if two particles are allowed to interact and then separated, they still behave as if they are connected or part of one system. What happens to one instantaneously affects the other – no matter the distance. They are still – in some way that can’t be explained yet – connected.

A pretty neat idea and one that bothered Einstein greatly because it would allow information to travel at faster than light speeds. I think it’s a neat analogy for the connections that people have too. Once someone is in your life – even briefly – they are still connected to you.

Anyway, I had a dream that someone had invented a gun that shot bullets that had quantum entangled particles in them. The first bullet shot had one of a set of two particles and the second would be the other of the set. In the dream, I saw someone get shot with one of these bullets and the attacker immediately fired another shot at another person. Neither of the wounds were serious – I mean, they got shot so it was serious, but not immediately life threatening.

Instead of the particles just interacting in the same way, the people that got shot by these bullets were draw towards each other at a quantum level. They fought against it but were pulled together and merged into one being – arms and legs thrashing around sort of like co-joined twins. But maybe more like two people that had been shoved through each other.

I had barely a moment to register this when I got shot in the shoulder. The attacker turned and fired another shot at someone near me and instead of fighting against it, I rushed towards my quantum entangled partner. I embraced them as tightly as I could and they did the same to me. Instead of a halfway merged mess, we instead turned into one complete person – though half again as tall and more structurally dense. We/I were now one person – albeit with two bullets in me/us. Before I/We could confront the shooter, I woke up.

Welcome to the inside of my head. 🙂

My folks, my sister, and her family came up for a visit this past weekend to celebrate my birthday a little early.

We went to the Bomb Shelter in the morning, grabbed some lunch, then went bowling. I got a couple of strikes right in a row at the start before my beginner’s luck ran out. My Dad and brother-in-law did much better, but the stars of the games were my nieces who – with a little help from a ramp and their parents – nearly won the games.

I should have used a ramp too.  Or maybe the bumpers.

In any case, we had fun and that was the whole point. After bowling, we headed back to my place for a bit and then got some dinner before they headed out. It was a good visit and I’m glad they were able come up. I’ll be heading down to see them again soon for my niece’s birthday.

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While they were visiting, we also tried out my Google Cardboard. It’s a cardboard box with some lenses in it that work with an app on my phone to present a Virtual Reality (VR) experience. Pretty sweet. We got to check out some far away places and other worlds – all in my living room. And it was funny watch folks stumble around a bit at the intersection of virtual and reality.

Yesterday, I found the app for the company that handles the campus tour for UA – and they’ve got the VR already set up and ready to work with Cardboard. I tested it out and today I shared what I found with the folks at work. We knew that the company provided this, but this was the first time we’d really tried it. Might be something we can help Admissions with.

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The air in my house is apparently pretty dry this winter. And I tend to build up a huge static charge. Enough to temporarily zap my playstation controllers or see sparks when I touch a light switch. I’ve trained myself to touch the fireplace screen before I touch my electronics and while taking the hit isn’t fun – it’s keeping the devices safe.

The worst was the ceiling fan. The chain has a metal ornament on the end and it hangs down just far enough to touch the bald spot on the top of my head.

The zap was painful enough and scary enough to make me drop. I recovered immediately, but I’m maybe still a little cautious in my living room. Getting hit with a bolt of lightning on my head – even a small one – isn’t much fun.

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Finally, tomorrow I turn 43.

42 was an interesting age – being privy to the secrets of Life, the Universe, and Everything was pretty cool – but I spent a good chunk of that time recovering from my broken arm. So, not much fun.

43 doesn’t seem that significant. Just a day. I’ll most likely go out for a nice dinner, but that’s about it.

Birthdays seem weird to me now. I guess I’m at the age where I’m not so young as to be excited about growing up and not so old that I think about mortality. Somewhere in the middle.

No odd urges to buy a sports car, fortunately.

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Heading for bed soon.  Work has been rough this week already and I’m worn out.  It’s going to get somewhat worse before it gets better, unfortunately.   Just gotta hunker down and tough it out.

At least I’m pretty much over my cold.  So, just need some rest.

I’ve been playing a lot of video games – as I may have mentioned – while I’ve been on break, but I’ve also been doing a little work around the house. Mostly organizing – I’ve seen too many episodes of Hoarders to be complacent in my basement.

Hmmm… that would make a good name for a band – “Complacent in the Basement”

Anyway, I came across a box of things that had been moved along with me for years, but rarely opened or gone through. One of the items was a tiny box – maybe two inches by three – made of wood with a hinged lid.

The box is empty except for a note taped to the inside of the lid.

“Wade, I hope you find this little cedar chest as handy as I have for keepsakes & what nots in your room. I’m sure you have seen it many times, and I would like you to have it in your room for keepsakes too. Love, Grandma Minnie,”
Minnie was my great-grandmother on my Dad’s side. She lived in a small house that shared a backyard with the old farm-house where we used to live when I was a kid.

Minnie was sweet and kind – always glad to see my sister and I in the yard or over at her house for fried apples and Barry Manilow on her record player. She kept a beautiful garden and we would find her there throughout the spring and summer.

I don’t remember exactly when she gave me this box, but I can hear her voice when I read the note she tucked inside it.

So, as I get ready to start off a new year, I think back a little to the sweet lady who was such a fixture in my life when I was very small.

Thank you, Grandma Minnie, for this empty little box.

Full of memories.

The university has been closed for winter break since the 24th of December and while I’ve been spending time with family and playing a lot of video games – I mean, a lot of video games – I’ve also been keeping up with one specific part of my work email.

On all the webpages on our site there’s a link at the bottom of the page that says, “Contact Us” and it points to a simple form – which, in turn, sends an email to webmaster@uakron.edu

Now, I’m not the webmaster, but I do answer his email. Through the rest of the year, the webmaster email is just one part of what I do during the regular workday. But, over the break, it’s the only task I keep up with from home.

I answer all the messages that come into that account and reply to the individuals with as much information as I can and direct them to the appropriate areas for when the university reopens.

I feel a little like a lighthouse keeper – keeping the lights burning in my tower and guiding the lost into port.

I take it seriously too. The young woman with a question might be our next freshman. The senior citizen looking for a photography class might also be a donor. And the young man worried about his grades might end up enrolling in graduate school.

A little light in the dark and a friendly voice over the waves might make the difference. And even if none of those things are true – well, it’s still a good thing to be polite.

So, I do my little part and keep up with the emails. Maybe a small thing, but worth it.

Until just yesterday, I hadn’t seen the movie Titanic. I had seen bits and pieces occasionally, but resisted because it was so hyped when it first came out.

(1) The more something is hyped, the less likely I am to go along with it.

By contrast, (2) the more someone tells me that I can’t or shouldn’t do something, the more likely I am to try it. Not the really dangerous stuff, but the challenges that should be beyond me.

Actually watching the Titanic – and it was an okay movie, incidentally – prompted some self exploration. And the results were distributing.

A staggering chunks of the decisions of my life have been ruled by those two impulses.

I’m contrary. Aggressively so.

Politics, religion, sports, marketing. The polar bear jump. Foods – cheese and onions in particular. I’ve pursued friendships where it’s clear the other person is fine in letting things go. And I’ve distanced myself from people who try too hard.

The clothes I wear. The movies I watch. The computer I use. The things I believe. All ruled by being deliberately contrary.

And where nobody is trying to push me or dissuade me, I’m generally somewhere in the middle and just go with the flow. If I’m pressured one way or the other, I launch myself in the opposite direction.

I guess now that I recognize it, I can get a better handle on it.

Not sure why I got this way. And I’ve been racking my brain to try and recall if anyone has figured this out and used it against me.

It’s damn odd. Interesting, I guess, but mostly odd.

And I guess this explains why I’m almost meditation-level relaxed around like minded people – no one is likely to really challenge me and send me careening to one extreme or the other.

I don’t feel a sudden need to try onions again. And I’m still going to sign up for the Polar Bear Jump.  But I’m going to try and give a little more thought about things when someone really pushes me.

Went to a bonfire last weekend with some friends. We needed some accelerates to get the fire going, but there was soon a nice fire – though the weather was warm enough for short-sleeves. Great conversations, fun with the kids, and the invention of the smorsel:

1. vanilla wafer on the bottom
2. chocolate piece
3. 1/2 toasted marshmallow
4. vanilla wafer on top

I followed up with a pretzel and I’m pretty sure we should have tried to add that to the mix.

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I took my cat to a new vet and while he may still need his teeth pulled, the vet was at least a little more compassionate about it. Thunder even started purring during the exam – which made me feel a little better.

I’ve got a dental supplement I’m adding to his water and every other day I’m using a small syringe to squirt a dose of a steroid into his mouth to help with the inflammation of his gums.

It’s not going great. He doesn’t hate me and really doesn’t mind it, but can’t help fighting me. I’ve gotten better at keeping him restrained long enough to get his mouth open and give him the dose.

His breath is maybe a little better and I’m hopeful that he won’t end up losing all his teeth.

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Yesterday was one year to the day of my epic fall – what I’m referring to as my “obliteraversary”. I’ll admit to being a little nervous for the day, but the mild weather and no ice or snow meant I was pretty safe. I was at a barn party and had a chance to ride a horse – but decided not to tempt fate.

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I’ve been sick the past few… days, weeks? I don’t know anymore. It really hit me yesterday evening and I spent most of the day today in bed sleeping or near to sleeping. More cold medicine for tomorrow – just need to get through the next three days and then it’s time for a break.

It’s mostly work stress compromising my immune system.  I’d like to get back to the good old days of just doing the work of 2-3 people.  Wearing me down…

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