Almost 10 years removed from my last post and I wish I could project more wisdom. The anxiety is still there, just manifested into other concerns. Yet, I'm different, just not the different I was hoping for. I have been in the presence of great people. I have been touched by those that have an endearing quality, a positiveness that escapes me. I hold it, but it just leaves me so quickly. 

D-Day + 14

Snow is sheeting at 45 degrees. My view is majestic. The hilly range in the distance is masked by the flying powder. The only thing disturbing the serenity is the cars whizzing on Route 15 and the incessant nag that I should really be working. 14 days past I 'ascended' to a position of responsibility at mauell. Be careful what you wish for.

March 1 I was promoted to the Program Manager position in a company that had lost it's grace with the marketplace. Reasons abound, but the proliferation of the Internet is high on the list. In our great quest to make informed decisions, our customers have turned to the Internet for validation. Sales people attempt to communicate through email and lose the very art of communication, tone and body language. A very close second is the erosion of the dealer network which has it's ties to our 2.0 world. The challenges that beset me are monumental. To reverse the downward spiral, a concerted effort awaits. It's daunting to say the last and a bit scary. Deep down the in the recesses on my being, I know the driving force behind my actions is a fear of failure. Yet, I have tried so hard to overcome being enslaved by that demon. I want to be driven by passion, not fear.

Ultimately I know that the corporation's ability to sustain our current work-force rests on my shoulders. When you internalize it, a different motivation emerges: a servitude to your coworkers' well-being. I am financially tied to the success of the organization but that has never been my paramount motivator. Despite that, I preach PROFITABILITY. There should be a sign hanging in the office: "Is this GOOD for the company?". I loathe those demeaning attempts to cattle-prod employees. I hope my desperation never reaches the point of incorporating those tactics.

The challenge lays before me. What price am I willing to pay? Contemplation must eventually lead to action. The respite is over, get back to work asshole.

Shower dreams

For some reason beyond my intellect my most creative and though provoking questions flood me during a hot shower. A time when I should be thinking about Giselle donning a new vicky's secret diamond encrusted wonderbra, my synapses are busy tackling heady ideas. Inevitably they dry up as the hot streams of water pulses cool, depleted from a marathon cleansing. Here's some that hit me last night at 1:30am post sweaty soccer match.

Is God defined by me? Do I modify my actions to accommodate this notion?

In regards to my health when will the law of averages strike? (In context of becoming a major statistic) How many more indoor soccer games will my right Achilles tendon endure?

If man (a generalization of humankind) were given the wisdom of first creation, assuming that there was a beginning, would he become a Deity? By Deity I mean ordained from the heavens and not of minions from the earth populace.

Attainment of Balance is momentary, can it be sustained? Would you even want to? When living balance, do higher highs and lows impact the net sum greater than more moderate peaks and valleys?

Snippets

My quest to blog profound material can be daunting. Finding the time to prose can be lengthy, so the snippet is borne.

1. Repent for lent. Catchy slogan. As a recovering catholic, I always wanted to use this somewhere, but never found a place.

2. My age is ever more noticeable. I'm even beginning to dislike shoveling snow. For a brief moment I contemplated paying the neighbor teens 20 bucks each to clear it.

3. For some reason national politics both intrigue and enrage me. The positioning and manipulation of a nation is disheartening. I thought that maybe Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert were subverting my objectivity. But no, even without their insightful quips, I can see the sham of our modern government.

4. Is integrity dead? I wonder how young ones learn this invaluable trait.

5. On a trip to San Diego, CA, I picked up a mag titled SEED. It attempts to simplify on a layman's level the findings, theories, policies and social issues of science. So far very interesting.

6. Speaking of San Diego, if I could move I would in a heartbeat. Outdoor social activity is the norm.

7. Currently reading "Made To Stick", By Chip and Dan Heath, a generalization on how to convey ideas that last. Basic premise is that there are 6 principles. I'm only into the Prologue, but it may be an interesting read. If it turns into a motivational book, it will end up in the driveway.

8. Laurie makes the best damn trail mix.

9. The family is contemplating going Gluten free (wheat, flour, yeast) a transition I don't welcome, but support.

10. The spectre of autism is keeping Ryan from getting his immunizations. He appears fine and normally developing, but the what-if scenario constantly rings in the background.

Apprehensions

Uncertainty would be the best word to describe the moment in time. I'm on the cusp of a promotion at work that should have been realized 3 months ago. Yet it lingers in the hands of the higher ups while they tend to the day-to-day fires with glasses of water as the only defense. As my corporate life remains in limbo so does every other decision that is linked to it. The wife is struggling with a reduced role in Ryan's care and upbringing. The more he matures, the harder it is for her to drop him off with a glorified babysitter. Mind you, there's nothing wrong with babysitters, but Laurie is a Pediatric OT. For 40 hours a week she's helping kids with developmental delay attain goals to bring them closer to their actual age in behavior. Simply, she plays with kids. And now someone else is playing with Ryan, so we think. Laurie's gut instinct is that Ryan spends most of his day in a car seat, in a vibrating chair, in the crib, you get my point. To most of us, this is appears harmless, but to an OT, especially one that specializes in pediatric development, this is sacrilegious. Everyday, Laurie picks Ryan up wondering if he got the interaction we would have provided him. I can hear the clock ticking in her head. My promotion would allow Laurie to reduce to part-time hours. This would greatly help, but that leaves the heady decision as to what to do with Ryan. We want to get him more interactive care, but the price a traditional daycare charges for part-time admission is only 15% less than a full-time rate. Laurie's frustration is further compounded by an underhanded political power play performed on her while on maternity leave. In her absence, her manager decided to remove her from the weekly pediatric feeding clinic, a respite from the daily grind of treating autistic kids. An overbearing speech pathologist with seniority applied pressure and and misinformation to orchestrate the removal of OT from the clinic. It isn't a personal affront on Laurie, but a clash of two disciplines and the protection of one's perceived responsibilities when therapies overlap. Despite being a 'business' decision, it wasn't handled with much finesse and Laurie is left with the knife still piercing her back. My promotion and the subsequent green light to pursue other employment and child care cannot come too soon.

The Parent-Child Relationship

One of the most subtle, yet comedic moments of film history occured in Airplane. From the left of the screen excriment flung at high speed met a splattering death from a gyrating fan blade. That's exactly what occured monday night. Ryan's christning is scheduled for this sunday in the upscale suburban hell in Newtown, PA. This 'town' is a place where decorum reigns as the well-to-do polish the golden calf in pursuit of more wealth. Thirty years ago, Newtown was a sleepy farming area with a small but cozy hsitorical downtown. Now it's a bustling and sprawling community interconnected from one development to another, populated by the tri-state hustlers driving Benzs, Beemers, and the occasional Lexus. What quaint, historical feel that remains is staged. Naturally, my in-laws reside there and subscribe to the idealogy that life should be experienced in a certain traditional way. Traditionally, when a child is baptised one purchases a Goverment Savings Bond which requires a Social Security Number (SSN). Laurie's grandmother requested it (via her Aunt), to which I said no way. Now is a good time to mention that I am vehemently opposed to giving out your SSN unless absolutely necessary and even then only in controlled situations... (the spectre of the identity thief looms large). Laurie had the unfortunate task of informing them that we (the united married front) were not obliging her request, which her Aunt took surprisingly bad. Apparently a women's first reaction is emotional. Despite Laurie's insistence that it wasn't the case, that's all she really took from the exhange. This prompted open disclosure to the dreaded MIL upon which she had already assumed that our policy of not releasing Ryan's SSN couldn't, shouldn't apply to her. Laurie gently tried to state our case, but met an immediate escalation of emotion. No matter how it was presented, recovery was next to impossible. Eons of tension seemed to be released. Laurie took the high rode and remained calm. After she ended the call, I could tell she was stressed, this was one burden she didn't need to bear. Wow, what fun, apparently we can make family decisions as long as they do not displease our parents. I knew for the sanity of my angelic wife, I needed to respond in a way that removed her from the middle of this quagmire while still pushing for a positive result. If it had been anyone else, even my own family, I would have told them to FUCK OFF, then again, my family probably wouldn't put me in that position in the first place. So I diligently drafted correspondence to both MIL and Laurie's aunt that apologetically stated my reasoning while clearly dismissing the notion that we don't trust them. Knowing my MIL she will play the "you hurt our feelings, and it will be hard to forgive you" bullshit routine. Instead of saying, 'you know I responded inappropriately, and I really don't have a right to Ryan's SSN without your permission', she'll sweep it under the carpet and then take verbal potshots over the next year when you're not expecting. It's quite an effective method. Think about, when you a acquiring something from someone and that person tells you no, react by puffing your chest up and try to bully the other. The weaker will typically back down (as in most parent-child relationships). This allows you to act offended which places the ownership of repairing the relationship back onto the weaker person. This is done through consessions and sometimes you end up with more then what you tried to take in the first place. Then on a continual but purposeful schedule playfully shoot verbal darts to reinforce that harassment will always come from saying no to you. Tactics learned in the school yard, or by watching your parents use it on you. We learn this young.

I'm amazed at the psychological abuse that people endure on a daily basis, for some most of it comes from their parents. I'm also amazed at the effort that I have to expend to walk the tightrope of standing up for my personal and family's position while maintaining the peace. There must be a more effective way to handle these intrusive problems. Ultimately, these are great life lessons that I can use to be a better parent. Let's hope that at least that comes of this debacle.

Tiny, tiny world

The Harrisburg metropolitan area has a populace of approx. 250,000 people. The chances of crossing paths with people you know randomly for a second time are pretty slim. Yet, this morning, I had an abrupt encounter with an old pseudo-friend. Lugging my 4 month old, securely strapped into his bulky car seat, I swung through the front door of Ryan's babysitter's dwelling. "I know this guy". A big grin magnified from between his goatee (the current popular display of male grooming). At first his name escaped me. Yes, I knew this guy too. Mike... Mike Mendez, it's been six years since our last encounter - and that was over the phone. Mike attended Bloomsburg U in the graduating class behind me. He was in some of my marketing classes, but we hung out primarily because we were members of the same fraternity. I graduated in 1995 and Mike left either in Dec of '96 or the spring of '97. A few years later he popped back up on the radar screen as we both lived in Mechanicsburg in the early 2000's. I being recently married while Mike pounded the local radio circuit doing promotional grunt work. Despite attempts to get together on a few occasions, we never did. Laurie and I were extremely busy and Mike had a funky revolving schedule. Fast forward to today. Eva (the babysitter) babbled about how strange it was, but fragmented any real attempt to ascertain where each other was in their lives. I guess that's for another time. Mike passed me a business card.... Marketing Manager for Hershey Entertainment, impressive. Whether or not this extends into something more personal remains to be seen. Yet, I can't help wondering why this guy keeps popping into my life, in spite of the odds.