Geek Miscellany

Someone on one of the message forums I frequent posted a German "safety" video. You need Windows Media to watch it: if you have Windows, you probably are good to…

My back hurts at the moment. Really badly. Sort of on the right side, between the shoulder blades. Its bad enough that the pain shoots down my arm, and at times I feel like I can't breath.

Yesterday I couldn't even lift a coffee cup with my right hand. Reaching for the mouse on my computer hurt. I drove to a store five minutes away, and ended up having Irene drive back because I couldn't steer well due to the shooting pain.

Today its a bit better...a Tylenol 3, two Robaxecets, and a couple of Vioxx so far, and its only 2:30 PM. All of this pain is one thing, but what really bugs me is ...

...the fact that I can't point at anything I did and say "that hurt my back". I had a dream in the wee hours of Sunday morning in which I hurt my back. I suddenly woke up in pain, and sure enough, my back was sore. But what did I *do*?

Probably whatever it was wasn't very heroic. I likely bent over wrong, or picked something up that I can't remember...something dull like that. If I was into extreme sports, I could say something like I twisted my back while free climbing some 1000' sheer drop, but no, all I can do is look at how my posture when I reach for the mouse and stuff like that.

Oh well. On the plus side, I get to take large quantities of pain killers and lie on the floor a bit. Thats always fun...

I sometimes hear or experience something that cements my way of thinking. Sort of a "eureka!" moment, I suppose, but on a personal "philosophical" level. I had one of those moments earlier this week.

Someone made a comment, a standard cliche heard in corporate circles all the time: If we aren't growing, we are dying. Naturally, I've heard this comment before. And I've had a fundamental disagreement with it, but this time a bunch of thoughts came together at once for me.

I am a consumer. Not quite a BMW driving, Latte sipping, Armani wearing Yuppie, but sort of the techy equivalent. I don't feel a need to apologize for my life. But in recent years, I've made some decisions regarding the balance between "more!" and "happy!". I've jumped off the career fastpath, taken an effective pay cut, and started doing work I enjoy more. I haven't gone to live in a sod hut, or stopped buying computer upgrades: but I've made some changes. So maybe that's made me more sensitive to the extreme side of the capitalist/consumerist ethic.

So what bothered me about the "we gotta be growing or we're dying" statement? Basically, its at the root of the dotcom bubble, and its part of the "evil" of the stock market.

Ten years ago I disagreed with this statement, when my employer at the time started laying people off because we "only" grew our profit by 10% that year. Years ago, you didn't lay people off unless you were losing money. In the 90's, it became normal to dump people just because you weren't growing fast enough. But I didn't really meld this into a personal philosophy.

I think a better personal statement for me would be "if you aren't improving, you are dying". I don't think growth or expansion equals improvement. If it did, cancer would be the most successful form of life: it grows really well. An individual or a company that is becoming more efficient, that is learning and correcting its "bad habits", that produces a better product, that delivers faster and provides a more satisfactory solution to its client, that is "happier"...that company is better than a company that simply gets bigger.

I'd like to think that what I'm saying here is just common sense. But it doesn't seem to be that way. I still hear that cliche statement, and it continues to bother me...

Getting better, not necessarily richer...

Earlier today I was deep in thought trying to get a computer system to cooperate here at the home of the Fur Olympics. The doorbell rang, which always irritates me when I have a computer in pieces and its not behaving properly.

In that frame of mind, I opened the door. A white haired gentleman was there, and he immediately began to berate me. Apparently, he and his wife had been walking by our house, and the lawn clippings on our sidewalk offended his sensibilities. He also informed me that he "knew the man who owned this house before...", as if this would somehow cause me to quiver in my boots.

I assured the fellow that I had just finished mowing the lawn an hour or so earlier, and planned on sweeping up. He then told me that no one else on my block had such rude grasskeeping habits as I, and that he had seen my despicable behaviour before. He again reminded me that he knew the man who owned my house before.

Well, I swept the sidewalk. But let me tell you, I really wanted to find that old guy again and belt him one. So I had some grass clippings on my sidewalk. Unlike my neighbors, I mulch, which saves nature etcetera. It also saves me from having to bag lawn clippings, but apparently it offends this old fellow.

But what really bugged me about what he said was his "I knew the man who lived here before you..." line. Exactly why should I care? I own the house now, I pay the mortgage, the taxes, and the other sundry bills. If he finds my sidewalk keeping habits unsatisfactory, well whoopdee fricking doo. I'm happy to hear a polite opinion, but this wasn't an opinion, it wasn't even remotely polite. I've never complained about our neighbor's howling dog, or the 2:30 AM backyard beer fests their teenagers have. I don't get go across the street and tell Mr. "I've got a leaf blower and I'm going to find something to blow around every blasted weekend" to shut his noisy contraption off. And now he has a gas powered pressure washer...

But right about now, I really figure I should start complaining. Apparently, once you reach a certain age, that becomes your right. Just walk right up, and piss some one off with your useless, self-absorbed, myopic, and basically irritating opinion. And frankly, I've about had it up to here (points somewhere above the top of his head) with retired wastes of good oxygen telling me how offensive my grass clippings are.

The moral: if you come to my door, with some complaint about something as earth-shatteringly critical as my lawn keeping habits, then I strongly advise that you approach it with some degree of subtlety, wit, and friendliness. Otherwise, keep your trap shut and find something useful to do with your life.