Blog Master G

I’ve been exhausted lately. I started my new job last week and I forgot how much working takes out of you. It’s mentally draining. It’s hard to adjust to a new schedule, learn all about a new company and products, etc. I’ve been less motivated and able to stay on top of my personal email, for example, and just haven’t had the time to write much here — as much as I would like to write, and as much as I’ve had the opportunity to write over the past several months since I last had a full-time job.

I like having a job, mind you. It’s new and exciting and challenging. It just takes some time to re-adjust to the new schedule, I suppose.

Going away for the weekend after my first week of work contributed to the exhaustion, of course, since I feel as though I still haven’t really caught up on sleep.

Add to that a new computer running Windows XP that’s been giving me a two-day headache, and you’ll begin to understand why I haven’t written much lately. I’ve been really happy with the old Dell Dimension 550 I’ve had since about 2000 or so, but having so many out-of-the-box problems with the new Dimension 4600 and having to deal with Dell’s tech support so much lately has been pretty annoying.

It’s snowing again outside. This winter just won’t quit.

Karen’s birthday. Brooklyn. March 20.

Green is the Way of the Walk. That’s what the back of the shirt I wear on this day every year reads. On the front is a golden shamrock sandwiched by the text “Irish Heritage Club” on the top and “1994” on the bottom.

Jen and I just returned from celebrating the day when Americans everywhere pretend to be Irish. We drank Guinness, of course. First we went to City Tavern, which was not happenin’. Then we saved the best for last: The Parting Glass. Here in Saratoga, it’s the most Irish of bars. There was a live Irish band and the place was absolutely packed with bodies from wall to wall.

Not the craziest of nights (it’s a weekday, after all), but we did our part for St. Patrick’s Day with a couple rounds.

Last year on this day was great fun, too. We were in San Francisco, of course, and celebrated with James, Jessie, and wedding dress shopping. James and I marinated at Harrison while the ladies looked at dresses for Jen.

(Stormy with background:#009900.)

Is it possible to have a particular day every single year when, without necessarily planning it, something significant tends to happen? I had never really stopped to think about that until today, what could be my Magical Day. Perhaps my planets are in alignment on this day each year. Or something like that.

Let’s review the events that have occurred on this day in the past few years:

• March 15, 2001: Headlight goes out of business
• March 15, 2002: My last day at Financial Finesse (started at Autodesk three days later)
• March 15, 2003: Bought tuxedo for my wedding
  March 15, 2004: Accepted offer for my new job

I had a camera phone once before. I was really into the picture-taking capability of the phone, but the thing itself — and the AT&T service — absolutely sucked. The camera was clunky, the user interface and usability were confusing and made no sense, and the service never, ever worked. The whole reason I had that phone was to participate in an Ofoto extended focus group. But it wasn’t worth it.

Today, more than eight months later, is a different story. After quite a bit of research, coupled with the desire to upgrade both our phones and service plans to something better, Jen and I are now the proud owners of the Samsung VGA1000 (SPH-A620). This is one seriously kick-ass phone. We had the option of getting the similar Sanyo 8100, but liked the feel of the Samsung much better. It feels like a more solid phone. Our old phones were Samsungs, too, and they’ve been great for the past couple years.

Everything from the two color displays (internal and external clock/photo/caller ID display) to the super-fast address book access to the camera phone functionality to the Java-based games (such as Ms. Pac-Man and bowling) to the world time map is just awesome. The phone is small, sturdy, and already makes my previous Samsung (SPH-A400) seem dated, even though it’s a mere two years old.

The usability of VGA1000 leaves in the dust the old Nokia 3650 I briefly had. That thing was so poorly designed that something as simple as emailing a photo was insanely complicated. Quite the contrary with the new Samsung, which zaps photos from the phone to a picture retrieval site in no time.

Needless to say, this is one purchase about which I feel really good and excited.

All that and we have an amazing new shared service plan with 2000 anytime minutes, unlimited nights starting at 7pm, unlimited weekends, unlimited PCS-to-PCS calling, and unlimited Web access and photo sharing for basically the same price we were paying for our old plans that offered only a combined (but in separate plans) 700 or so anytime minutes and unlimited nights not starting until 9pm. We stuck with Sprint since we’ve had the service for at least a couple years now and have no complaints. The quality is great and works everywhere we need it to work.

The sales rep at the Wilton Mall was great, too. Since only Jen got a new local number and hence a new account, that only qualified her for the reduced price of $79.99 for the VGA1000. I would’ve had to pay about 50 bucks more for the same phone — or 100 bucks for the Sanyo that I didn’t really want. Not only did the rep give me the $79.99 price, but he threw in two $25 car chargers for free. Can’t complain at all about $100 savings, two sweet new phones, and a solid new service plan (sure, there’s a new two-year contract, but as I’ve said, we like Sprint and will have cell phones anyway).

For the record, I stuck with my 415 digits partly because I believe that as more and more people cancel land lines in favor of cell phones for exclusive use, area codes will become less and less relevant (free long distance from cells) in terms of phone use. Rather, the area code will come to be more of an identity for its owner than anything else. I like identifying with the 415. That, and we’re living in an ever-more wired world where distance doesn’t mean as much as it once did.

Also for the record and for my own amusement, here are the final stats that I logged in the old A400:

• Active use: 3.6.2002 – 3.13.2004 (738 days)
• Total calls: 6,351
• Average calls per day: 8.6
• Total airtime: 309 hours, 50 minutes (nearly 13 continuous days of talk time…18,590 minutes)
• Average call length: 2.9 minutes
• States visisted: Lots
• International destinations: Italy

Yesterday was an awesome day. It started with a sudden downfall of tons of snow just before 8 in the morning. As I’ve said before, I love snow. I finally understand why March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb. So this was good.

I drove Jen to work, waited around a bit for the new owner of the building to do a quick walk-through, then took the WRX to the local shop to check out why the steering wheel has been pulling to the left (alignment is OK, but yes, the steering wheel is off). Good to confirm my suspicion.

The next cool thing to happen was a partnership proposal I had put out for capitalregion.us was accepted. Specifically, the site is going to be the official online counterpart for the Saratoga Springs Visitor Center Events Calendar. Good stuff.

Last but certainly not least came a phone call. Without revealing too much information, let’s just say that I may soon remove my resume from the featured section of my site. (Just drop me an email if you want the scoop.) This was good.

Jen and I celebrated by heading to happy hour with a new friend from her office.

Friday really was good.

I can’t take credit for this (the speed or the photo), but I like it.

(Thanks, Shay.)

Didn’t the AFA learn its lesson last time? You’d think with more than 2 million members, the organization would be able to get the results it wanted.

AMERICAN FAMILY ASSOCIATION ONLINE POLL
YOUR VOTE IS NEEDED NOW!

You help is requested in gaining the opinion of on-line voters to the
following question. Whom do you favor for the next President of the United
States – John Kerry, George W. Bush, or Ralph Nader?

Go to http://www.onlinepolls.net/pollv1/default.aspx?pid=10 to express
your opinion.

Cast your vote. Forward to a friend. Help us feel the pulse of America.

Thanks,

Don

Donald E. Wildmon, Founder and Chairman
American Family Association

Results currently show the following:

John Kerry 89.68 % 50,434 vote(s)
George Bush 3.97 % 2,231 vote(s)
Ralph Nader 6.35 % 3,570 vote(s)
Total: 56,235 vote(s)

(Thanks, Thomas, for the heads-up.)

MoveOn.org sent an email today that featured a cool surprise (see bold):

Dear FRIEND,

As you know, the campaign to defeat George Bush is heating up. As a resident of a so-called “swing” state, you’re in a unique position to help change the course of this election. There’s a lot at stake this year, but it’ll all come down to the voting decisions of a tiny percentage of the voters in your state.

That’s why I’m hoping that you’ll join me in working with MoveOn PAC’s Take Back the White House project. If you sign on to their email list, you can get free bulletins that let you know how you can be effective. Sign up at:

http://www.moveonpac.org/tellafriend/

MoveOn PAC is an online group, 2 million members strong, that organizes citizens to work together to change the country this year. You’ll get emails that tell you how you can help win the election–distributing flyers, or talking to voters in your neighborhood about the issues, or holding house parties for John Kerry. Get involved now:

http://www.moveonpac.org/tellafriend/

Thanks! We all have different reasons to get involved, but we’re united in working to defeat President Bush and put the country on the right track. I thought you might want to see some of the reasons people gave for joining this campaign:

-Only 3 states have not seen an increase in unemployment. Koretnee, OH
-3 Bush-appointed members of the Supreme Court is frightening. Susan, CA
-He lied about the reasons for going to war in Iraq. Cheryl, GA
-The ‘middle class’ are fast becoming the ‘working poor.’ Sandra, CA
-I want to be able to breathe clean air. Gabe, NY
-Our and our children’s future is being looted! Peg, NY
-All people are family and deserve equality regardless of sexual orientation. Paul, MD
-Everything he does benefits the wealthy at the expense of working people. Tereze, NY
-Character matters. Paul, NY
-He intends to end the social security and Medicare programs. Priscilla, MA
-The Patriot Act deprives us of our civil rights. Eileen, CA
-We need to protect the environment from large corporate interests. Rian, MI
-I’m 60 years old and need a good job. Pat, OK
-I love my country and I want it back. Judy, NM
-We don’t need to be afraid all the time. A., HI
-He took us to an unnecessary war. Rose, VA
-We must do better for ALL children’s educations. Meggan, MI
-My wife is a teacher and we can’t afford to vote for him. Ricardo, TX
-Global warming is real and the Kyoto Protocol needs to be followed. Martha, VA
-I’m unemployed, uninsured, we’re in an unnecessary war … and Bush is worried about GAY MARRIAGE! Susan, CA

Yup, I submitted that to MoveOn back at the beginning of the month when I signed the pledge to defeat Bush.

(Thanks to Dan, who’s recently revamped his site for a most excellent cause, for calling my quote in the email to my attention!)

Not since college have I boarded a train bound for New York City with plans to return later the same evening. That was the thing about school in upstate New York: Proximity to the Big Apple. A quick two-hour ride on Metro North from the Poughkeepsie train station and you were in Grand Central, in the heart of the most famous city on earth. Lots of the kids — mostly those who were native New Yorkers and hip to the club scene — made a weekly ritual of it. Most of us non-science majors never had classes on Fridays (after learning that valuable lesson first semester freshman year, of course), so many a students would make a three-day weekend out of the city jaunt. After all, Poughkeepsie didn’t have a whole lot to offer beyond the Vassar walls.

I never was and never have been a club kid — though I’ve been seen once or twice in places like Polly Esther’s in San Francisco — so the draw of New York City during college for me was instead limited to the excitement of the big city itself and to destinations like the Met and Yankee Stadium. Outside trips into and out of JFK or LaGuardia, I really only went to New York a handful of times while at Vassar — a Yankee game or two, the Met here and there. And this one time when a few friends and I thought it would be fun to check out some clubs. Little did we know the adventure that would unfold.

There was this girl I was really into at the time and a friend of mine wanted to facilitate our having fun (a far more loaded and complicated story than that, perhaps for another time). So this friend and the girl and another girl and I took to the town. The problem was, none of us really knew anything about clubs or the cool places to be for a group of college kids to hang. I still don’t know New York well enough even to describe where exactly we ended up, but suffice it to say I was sketched out by the neighborhood. But there was a club, and that’s what counted. The friend and I were older than 21 at the time, I think, but the girls were not. So our plan was simple: Send in the girls first while we waited around the corner, then we’d follow. Apparently girls who enter a club by themselves as opposed to with guys are more likely to be admitted. Phase one: Success. The under-drinking-age girls were in.

Then it was our turn.

We approached the intimidating man of a bouncer, showed him our IDs, and waited for him to wave us in. Instead, with piercing eyes and slow, deliberate moves, he looked us up and down and told us we weren’t dressed right for the club. We argued, but it was clearly no use. The girls were just inside the door and had already paid their twenty-dollar-per-head cover. They nervously watched to see what would happen next.

No matter how much we pleaded, the bouncer would not budge. So we decided to call the girls back and abort the mission. It took some quick thinking to explain to the bouncer that we had dropped off the girls and parked the car. He didn’t believe us at first, but when the girls began to ask for their covers back, the bouncer changed his mind and decided to let us in. I can only guess that he would’ve rather made eighty bucks for the club than nothing at all.

We paid our covers and entered.

What happened next was more of a feeling than an actual event. When we got past the entryway and into the club, we knew immediately that we were out of place. I felt as though all eyes were on us, and is if the music had somehow stopped its beat. It hadn’t, but our instincts said to turn and run.

We decided that would probably be worse, so we resigned ourselves to pretending like we did fit in, and to trying to have a good time.

The problem was obvious: This was an insiders’ club and although inside the building, we were blatantly out. I don’t have evidence to prove it, but we came to agreement (softly under our breaths) that this was a club belonging to and frequented by members of the Russian Mafia and whoops, we had inadvertently stumbled into their joint. To this day, I still don’t know how we picked that place or why.

But we stayed for a time, had some drinks, and danced a little out-of-place dance. The drinks didn’t sooth the tension. And things didn’t get any better when another somebody who didn’t belong began moving in on she who oh shit, turned out to be the woman of somebody who did belong. I don’t remember all the details from that point, but as a large man approached the encroaching man and began to shove him around, we thought that was a good cue to make our exit — before we wore out our welcome (if you could have called it that).

We scurried out into the still New York night air, exhaled in relief that we were OK, and started on our way. But not before the other outsider came flying out the door of the club. Yes, flying. As in, someone literally threw him out. Apparently that wasn’t enough of a lesson not to mess with these mobsters.

The large man who had not approved of the outsider’s moving in on his woman was the next to emerge. I’ll spare you the graphic details of the next few moments, other than to say they seemed to go on forever and ended in a bloody mess with the man’s head being banged repeatedly on the hood of a nearby car. We were terrified and thought better of sticking around and trying to help. In retrospect, maybe we should have tried to help the guy, but maybe his beating was also a warning to us.

That was the last time I went to that place, and enough of a warning never to return.

So here I ride on a New York City-bound train many years later, no longer a Vassar student, and coming not from Poughkeepsie but from my new home in Saratoga Springs. The trip today is not to see fine art or baseball or to discover an underworld of the Russian Mob, but to interview for a new job. Much less dramatic, I know, but also quite a bit safer.

As I walk around the city today, I’ll stick to the beaten path, and appreciate that a day trip to the Big Apple is again just a two-hour train ride away.

// 10:55am