Day 434 - San Francisco, CA

I had a lighter topic chosen for today, but as is often the case, the universe decided what I was going to write about.  As most of you who read the blog regularly know, I make a point of being very open and honest here.  I try very hard not to censor myself.  I always knew that this might cause problems.  In fact, it already has once before, when I wrote about sex very openly while I was dating someone who ended up not appreciating some of the things I had to say.  And today, that happened for a second time.  I have been writing pretty openly here for the last few days about moving to Portland.  But I had not yet given notice at my job.  One reason for that was that I was waiting until Friday afternoon, because I thought it might go over better then.  I was somewhat aware that this might cause an issue, but I really didn't think anyone at work read my blog.  Nobody at work is a Facebook friend, and I just didn't think it would be a big deal.  But it turns out my boss, Paritosh, does read the blog.  So, like in some bad sitcom, today we had what could charitably be called a very awkward conversation.

I regret that he found out about that fact that I am leaving my job this way.  It was not my intent for that to happen.  It doesn't feel like the right way of communicating.  It's clear that I did something "wrong", or at least not aligned with my values.  What is less obvious is what exactly the right answer is.  One clear and obvious choice is to stop blogging.  A close second choice would be to continue blogging, but be careful not to reveal anything too meaningful.  Both of these options feel largely the same to me.  That is, if I'm not going to feel open to be myself, I am not sure I want to blog at all.  The third option is to just live a transparent life, and assume that everything I post here is immediately known to everyone.

Living a transparent life seems insane and dangerous.  One of my good friends, upon hearing my story, made it clear that he thought I was a total moron for speaking openly.  And I think he's right.  The question is, should I have not blogged about it, or should I have been more immediately open with my boss?  Originally, I felt that giving two weeks notice was the right hing to do.  But over time, several of my past jobs, when I gave notice, escorted me out immediately.  It was painful and traumatic, so I decided in the future I wouldn't give notice.  That meant that I ended up blogging about it before discussing it with my boss.  This may seem like a relatively trivial example, but the pattern here is clear and, I think, important: starting out with open communication, suffering trauma, then closing off communication.  And the temptation is to give in to the circle, to retreat further away from openness.  In this context, that would be shutting down the blog.  But that doesn't feel like the right answer.  I like being open; it feels better connected to my spiritual essence.  The scary truth is that I think what I have to do is really embrace openness.  In this context, I should have trusted my job.  And if they did the wrong thing and betrayed my trust, well, that would have been on them.

There are other areas of my life where, right now, I am not communicating as openly and truthfully as I could.  I don't lie often these days, but like any of us, I definitely hide some of the truth.

Do I have the guts to be truly open?

Day 433 - San Francisco, CA

As many of you know, I enjoy meditating, and sometimes I teach meditation.  Recently I started teaching a meditation class at my job.  A few of my coworkers asked me to record an intro to meditation class as an audio file so they could meditate on their own, which I was happy to do.  And now I'd like to share that with you!  At the link below, you'll find a 19 minute mp3 audio file which walks you through the basics of meditation and includes a 15 minute meditation session.  Feel free to use it as you like.  If you end up copying it, referencing it or using it somewhere, all I ask is that you give me credit for it.  :)  But it's free to anyone who wants to get started with meditation!

If you like this, and you'd like more audio files like this, just let me know!

Happy meditating!

http://www.adamhunter.net/Meditation.mp3

Day 432 - San Francisco, CA

Hello, blog people!  Continuing on the theme of Awesome Things Happening in Adam's Life, here's thing #2!  I'm going to be a college professor!  I've accepted a part time job  teaching at Oregon State University, on the Bend campus; it's called OSU-Cascades.  For starters, I'll be teaching a class on business and computer science, which will be really interesting.  It's a new program they're starting up combining the two departments.  They wanted me because I have both a Masters in Computer Science as well as an MBA.  I think it's a great class to offer because it's a really important life skill for Computer Science students who might not be used to interacting with the "real world".  I applaud the folks in Bend for introducing such a forward thinking class, and for their extreme foresight in hiring such an amazing adjunct professor.  :)  I'm super excited about the opportunity because I've been trying to get into teaching for a long time, and this is my big opportunity!  So it's a win-win.  And, of course, it's some extra income, which is always nice.  

Day 431 - Portland, OR

This is a post I've been waiting for a while to write.  You may have noticed that I haven't updated in a while; that's because this post has been waiting, building up, blocking the other posts.  And now that the time has arrived, it's hard to find the words.  But I guess we'll start here: I'm moving to Portland! 

Yes, dear cynic, I did that once already.  It's true.  But this time is going to be different.  For two big reasons, the biggest of which is: I found a job!  An honest-to-goodness Portland job.  And it's a really really good one, too!  No settling.  Actually I think it's a huge step up for my life.  I'm still going to be working in software, but the company I'll work for is much more spiritually and philosophically aligned with my goals.  It's called Mapbox, and they make open source software for doing mapping and data visualization on maps.  Because it's open source, it's really popular among the kind of people that don't have a lot of money, such as NGOs and non-profits.  And the company didn't get its start as a tech company, but rather as a political effort in DC, so they have a very different philosophy and background.  And I'll get to really enjoy the Pacific Northwest without any more worries about money. 

As you can probably tell, I'm incredibly excited.  I'll be moving around the third week of September.  I will actually be back and visiting San Francisco moderately often - about 4 times a year - as part of the job.  Which is nice; I'll get to stay connected with all my friends in SF.  And I even get to fly out to DC a couple of times a year, which I'm looking forward to. 

There are a ton of other awesome positive changed coming up as well, related to this change, but this is enough for today.  We'll save some for later.  :) 

Day 416 - San Francisco, CA

It's no secret that I don't shy away from...delicate topics here in this space.  A lot of times, when I talk about these kinds of things, I end up doing more harm than good.  I urge anyone who reads this to read it in the spirit that it's intended, and that, if it triggers you, just smile, take a deep breath, think happy thoughts about me, and read something else.  What I'm going to talk a bit about today is gender.  I've been in a workshop on NVC for the last 2 days - Non-Violent Communication, with Judith Lasseter.  It's a technique for conversation and dialogue that focuses on understanding; putting yourself in the other person's shoes.  Perhaps because of that, I've been thinking a bit about what it's like to be a woman. 

There are times in my life when I've been accused of sexism.  In general, I think you can just look at my track record to see that generous and kind towards women.  But I will admit there's a kernel of truth in that allegation sometimes, which is that I've been, at times, an unapologetic chauvinist.  What I mean by that is that I've been eager to race to the defense of men.  And I still stand by that; I don't think it's helpful when people (men or women) talk about "all men" or complain about "men" as if they are some sort of monolithic group. 

But that's not what I want to talk about today.  What I want to talk about is the ways in which it is clearly true that women get the short end of the stick; the unseen and historically unacknowledged advantages that men have.  I was thinking about this especially during this workshop in the context of men in "clasroom-type" settings.  When I was a child, in school, and in other school-type settings like Sunday school, I was always encouraged.  I was made to feel like it was fully appropriate for me to raise my hand and ask questions, to be assertive towards the teacher and with my fellow students.  At no time did I ever worry that I needed to be "proper".  I was encouraged to tackle subjects like math and science.  I was repeatedly assured that I would be successful, and that being successful was important, and what I needed to do to be happy.  Never was it ever suggested that I could marry into wealth or happiness.  Nobody ever said I should stick to certain topics or subjects.  I never felt bossy or "unfeminine".  But that's just in school; after the workshop, I walked alone to my car in the dark.  I never felt unsafe.  At no point was I worried that somebody would assault me.  I asked one of my fellow students if they wanted to have dinner with me - alone - without having to worry that they might be creepy; or at least, that if they were creepy, I might have a really unfortunate experience.  I basically hardly ever live in fear for my physical body, except in really extreme circumstances.   It's easy to forget how chilling of an effect fear can have; even a little bit of fear.  

It's important for to acknowledge that's an advantage I have that I didn't earn or really deserve.  I didn't do anything special to get to feel that safety; it's just a blessing of my gender.  Of course, some men feel afraid, and some women feel completely comfortable.  I know a man who was raped, and I know a woman who travels the world alone without fear.  But the *starting line* isn't really fair.  Of course, for any given person, it's smart to just forget that fact; to spend less time dwelling on it and more time overcoming it.  But for me, as a man, to not acnknowledge this essential unfairness is disrespectful and unhelpful.  Of course, it's also not my *fault* that I was born a man; I didn't ask for these advantages, and I don't have to feel guilty for having them.  Still, since I have them, the least I can do is give them away.  To be grateful for having them, and use them to the benefit of both men and women.  Not because I have to, but because I want to.  I want to open doors, walk a woman to her car.  But mostly I want to just hold space for that awareness. 

That might still seem sexist.  It might seem condescending.  I hope not; I don't mean it that way.  I know some women fight for equality; for total equality.  They won't be happy until there's no difference at all.  I wonder sometimes if that will ever happen, if that's even possible.  I guess I'm not smart enough to know the answer.  It's not the world we live in, though, and I can't make that happen.  But I can try to do the best I can to be kind, to be understanding of both genders, and, in the meantime, until we reach equality, to use whatever advantage I might get to the benefit of the people around me.  That's the best I can think of. 

Day 414 - San Francisco, CA

One of my MBA professors showed us an article about career planning where the person said something smart that I think applies to more than just jobs; they were noticing that, when you ask people what they want out of a job, you always get the same boring answers, and you don't learn much about them.  But when you ask them what they *don't* want, you learn a lot more.  Anyone past a certain age knows that things you want always comes with things you don't.  Arguably, the way to know what your priorities are are to list the things you're willing to put up with.  Want to be fit and in shape?  Well, are you willing to be in the gym for thousands of hours?  What this really tells us is that the most important thing to understand about life is priorities.  So, with that in mind, here are some thoughts I've had over the last week or so, in no particular order: 

If I end up at the gym and all I have is dress shoes, I'm still going to work out.

If I have a date planned and a friend schedules something important, I'm canceling the date.

If a job pays a lot of money but makes me sad, I'll quit.

If something fun is happening inside but it's a gorgeous day, I'm going outside.

If I have to choose, I'd rather be kind than right.

If I'm really hungry, but stopping to eat will make me late, I'm going to be late.

If a friend needs help, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't help me if the situation was reversed, I'm still going to help.

Anyone have any of their own? 

Day 413 - San Francisco, CA

Greetings, readers!  Today I'm going to be asking for a little bit of help and advice.  As some of you know, I write apps for a living; at least, I have the last 4 or 5 years or so.  As part of that, both for professional reasons and just for fun and the sheer joy of making things, I have written a number of apps on the side.  I've actually gone all the way to listing some of those apps on the App Store, and even sold a few copies.  But the most I've ever made is maybe about a hundred dollars or so, in years of doing this.  

I don't necessarily think that I write bad apps.  Some of the apps I've done aren't so great, but there's a few in particular that I think would sell.  But the problem is how to let people know about them.  I have an MBA in Marketing, of course, so I understand that basically, it's a marketing problem.  The company I work for - for example - spends a ton of time and energy - and money - marketing their apps.  They even talk about it in terms of "buying customers".  Typically, I haven't really been willing to invest time in all that.  But lately I've started thinking that maybe I'd like to look into it.  After all, I spent all this time writing these various apps, it seems like the least I could do is spend a bit of time marketing them and see what happens.  But I don't really know where to start.  I'm not sure how to advertise for apps on a smaller scale.  I don't want to spend thousands and thousands of dollars creating sophisticated advertisements and such for my apps.  What I'd like to be able to do is just spend maybe a couple of hundred dollars or so and see if I can get any traction.  There's one app in particular that I think would be cool to start with; it's an app I wrote called Quietude which is a sort of meditation app that encourages you to, well, be quiet.  I think it's an interesting app to a very narrow segment of people, and I'd like to spend a small amount of money trying to market to that narrow audience.  

Does anyone within earshot of this blog know how to do that?

Day 408 - San Francisco, CA

Today I want to talk about how hard it can be sometimes to see the positive things in life.  I also want to talk about my Withings scale.  I really like my Withings scale.  It's this Wifi-enabled scale that takes my weight and uploads it to an app on my phone.  Dorky, I know. 

Let's ignore for the moment whether it's good for me to be concerned about my weight.  I probably should just let go and not give a crap.  But, I do give a crap.  And I weigh myself often - sometimes once a day.  Sometimes, I weigh less than the day before.  Sometimes, I weigh more.  One of the things I've learned is that my brain doesn't really always do a good job of picking out patterns in my life, especially when they're positive.  In other words, it can be really hard to see positive change when it a) happens slowly and b) doesn't happen evenly.  Some days there's a step back.  I think it's common for us as human beings to only remember the negative things that happen.  I have a theory that it's because, when we were out in the wild, it was way more important to remember the places where a lion tried to kill us then it was to remember where we saw that beautiful sunset.  Anyway, combined with the brain's tendency to want to match patterns, it's very easy to look at a bunch of events in your life and become convinced that things are going right into the shitter, when in fact the exact opposite is happening.  And one nice thing about this Withings stuff is that, for at least one tiny aspect of my life, it's able to show me - without bias - that I am clearly, obviously, and fairly consistently losing weight. 

Now, this is not a post about weight loss, I hope that's clear.  What this is, is a post about progress.  Maybe you're trying to quit smoking, or get more fit, or be nicer to people, or find a better career.  A lot of the things worth doing in life take a really long time and consistent, measured effort, and don't produce nice, clean results.  I'm learning that it's important to look at the big picture; not whether I am better than I was yesterday, but whether I'm better than I was 3 years ago.  And I think technology can help.  Being able to look at data without the biases of the (kinda broken) human brain really helps in staying confident.​

Day 407 - San Francisco, CA

Today, I went for a walk.  The weather was nice, and I decided to just start walking around my neighborhood.  I was inspired by a story I read a while back about a guy who walked every single street in San Francisco.  I don't know if I'll ever get there, but I had a nice 45 minute walk around my neighborhood.  I guess I got started. 

I've made no secret of the fact that I've had a crappy month or two.  I've talked pretty openly on my blog about a lot of things.  I haven't even mentioned some of the small things, like cracking my phone screen again.  And some things are too fresh; my bike got stolen this afternoon, for example.  That didn't even turn out to be the worst part of the day; I had an even worse thing happen but that part came later, and maybe I'll talk about it on the blog, maybe even tomorrow.  But today I don't feel like it. 

As I was walking around, on my walk, a feeling started to suddenly come over me.  I thought about all the times in my life that shit has really hit the fan.  I thought about how things come in groups.  I thought about the times I've spent railing against my fate, yelling at the sky or whoever would listen.  And suddenly, this phrase just popped right into my head, from somewhere deep down inside.  And you'll have to excuse the language, but this is exactly what it said: Fuck it.  Fuck all of it.  Fuck all the negativity.  Just fuck it right in the ear.  I am sick and fucking tired of feeling down about things, about my bike, about dating, about being 10 pounds overweight.  I'm just 100% balls out sick of being sad about stuff.  I just don't want to do it anymore.  There are so many things to be happy about: the nice weather, my awesome bluetooth keyboard, the fact that I have a job, my friends, my apartment.  There's a lot to complain about, too, but for the first time in a long while I feel like maybe things could head in a positive direction and I will be goddamned if I'm going to spiral down just because some dude felt he needed to steal my bike, or I had to go sit in a room and explain about how I didn't really want to judge some guy for breaking into a car, or a million other little pieces of universe crap.  I just really don't want to go there anymore. 

And, honestly, it felt really good.  It felt good just to walk around the streets.  I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.  It's weird that in the midst of a shitty time I should feel so free, but maybe it takes all of that bull to realize how much I have to be grateful for. 

So, I don't know how long that will last.  Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and feel like hell.  Who knows.  Maybe it's exercise-induced euphoria.  :)  We'll find out! 

Day 406 - San Francisco, CA

 Today's post is about stress.  Over the last few months, I've had a lot of stressful things happen.  I had someone I was quite in love with break up with me, then I got just about the sickest I've ever been, then I went through dental hell, and as I write this, I'm standing at a cubbyhole in the Hall of Justice waiting to find out whether I will have to serve on a jury.  Ive been called, and a few minutes from now some attorneys are going to ask me a bunch of hard questions that I'm not looking forward to.  A lot of change is in the works in my life, and a lot of things have been happening to good friends of mine as well.  The point here is not to make anyone feel sorry for me; the point is, I've had a lot of what my old meditation teacher called "opportunities"; specifically, opportunities to see how I've managed to  progress in terms of my ability to handle stress.  And the verdict is mixed.  It's clear that I'm definitely better at handling stress than I used to be.  Any one of the things I've gone through in the last couple of months might have been enough to set me on edge in the old days.  So hooray for that.  But it's just as clear that stress still has a really profound effect on me.  No surprise there, I suppose: stress has a profound effect on all of us.  But it's still interesting, maybe even disappointing, how much of an effect it has.  It's like, even if you see it coming, and even if you've trained yourself to try to deal with it, it still just hits you like a mack truck.  It sneaks up on you, too; you find yourself being snippy with someone at work, or not being able to pay attention to a conversation with a good friend.  In particular, I find myself really wanting to be alone, to curl up in a ball and just hide from the world.  Which sucks, because the world is awesome and there's a lot of really great stuff out there.  Most of the bad things that have happened to me are a) not as bad as they seem and b) over with already, so it's crappy that they still linger and keep me from enjoying what's to come.  I think the only thing I can honestly do is be kind to myself, to acknowledge that, to some extent, stress and the stress response are just biological facts, things I can't control any more than I can change my height, or women can get rid of their period.  It's just part of the human condition.

The question becomes, though, to what extent to live life in such a way as to avoid stress.  That is, I could organize my life in a way where avoiding stress is a priority.  I haven't really done that; I've been willing to do things like move and change jobs.  And in my personal life, I've picked people to date and be friends with, without really making lack of stress a big part of that decision making process.  It's not that I seek out stress, it's just that I've been willing to trade stress for other things I want in life.  And, in general, I'm happy with that trade.  It feels like that's the right answer.  But I do find myself continually re-examining that set of priorities.  I can see how, as people get older, they get more risk averse, if only because you become so aware of how awful it is to be stressed out.  It's bad in the obvious ways, sure, but it's bad in so many little ways too; you don't eat right, you don't sleep well, you make poor life choices, etc., etc.

Sometimes it does make you wonder if it's worth it!

Day 406 - San Francisco, CA

 Today's post is about stress.  Over the last few months, I've had a lot of stressful things happen.  I had someone I was quite in love with break up with me, then I got just about the sickest I've ever been, then I went through dental hell, and as I write this, I'm standing at a cubbyhole in the Hall of Justice waiting to find out whether I will have to serve on a jury.  Ive been called, and a few minutes from now some attorneys are going to ask me a bunch of hard questions that I'm not looking forward to.  A lot of change is in the works in my life, and a lot of things have been happening to good friends of mine as well.  The point here is not to make anyone feel sorry for me; the point is, I've had a lot of what my old meditation teacher called "opportunities"; specifically, opportunities to see how I've managed to  progress in terms of my ability to handle stress.  And the verdict is mixed.  It's clear that I'm definitely better at handling stress than I used to be.  Any one of the things I've gone through in the last couple of months might have been enough to set me on edge in the old days.  So hooray for that.  But it's just as clear that stress still has a really profound effect on me.  No surprise there, I suppose: stress has a profound effect on all of us.  But it's still interesting, maybe even disappointing, how much of an effect it has.  It's like, even if you see it coming, and even if you've trained yourself to try to deal with it, it still just hits you like a mack truck.  It sneaks up on you, too; you find yourself being snippy with someone at work, or not being able to pay attention to a conversation with a good friend.  In particular, I find myself really wanting to be alone, to curl up in a ball and just hide from the world.  Which sucks, because the world is awesome and there's a lot of really great stuff out there.  Most of the bad things that have happened to me are a) not as bad as they seem and b) over with already, so it's crappy that they still linger and keep me from enjoying what's to come.  I think the only thing I can honestly do is be kind to myself, to acknowledge that, to some extent, stress and the stress response are just biological facts, things I can't control any more than I can change my height, or women can get rid of their period.  It's just part of the human condition.

The question becomes, though, to what extent to live life in such a way as to avoid stress.  That is, I could organize my life in a way where avoiding stress is a priority.  I haven't really done that; I've been willing to do things like move and change jobs.  And in my personal life, I've picked people to date and be friends with, without really making lack of stress a big part of that decision making process.  It's not that I seek out stress, it's just that I've been willing to trade stress for other things I want in life.  And, in general, I'm happy with that trade.  It feels like that's the right answer.  But I do find myself continually re-examining that set of priorities.  I can see how, as people get older, they get more risk averse, if only because you become so aware of how awful it is to be stressed out.  It's bad in the obvious ways, sure, but it's bad in so many little ways too; you don't eat right, you don't sleep well, you make poor life choices, etc., etc.

Sometimes it does make you wonder if it's worth it!

Day 405 - San Francisco, CA

Today I want to write a little about my parents.  Continuing on the theme of positivity, my parents have definitely been a positive influence in my life, and I'd like to talk a little bit about who they are.  There's no question that we've had our difficulties, but as I've come to understand them as people, not just as parents, I've learned a lot about life and developed a lot of respect.  

My mother is kind of an amazing person.  She was born in the Buffalo area to a very ethnically Polish and German mom and dad, one of 4 kids; not the youngest, not the oldest.  Her dad was a carpenter of sorts and her mom - my Grandma, who would turn out to be one of the most influential people in my life - did all sorts of things, including at one point running her own lunch counter.  My mom was very smart, and she ended up going to college, which was a big deal back in those days.  She got into lots of different schools but her mom forbid her from going to far from home so she ended up at UB (University of Buffalo), not a bad school, not a great school.  I think she majored in Economics.  She's got a great story about how the only class she ever failed was Bowling, because they made her get up at 8 in the morning to go to the bowling alley and she just kind of didn't see the point.  Her senior year, not knowing what the heck to do with herself, she was strongly considering joining the Peace Corps when she saw a listing for a class on campus in this weird thing called Programming.  She took it, mostly just for fun.  At the end of the semester, a bunch of recruiters from companies she'd never heard from, like RCA and IBM, came on campus and basically - in a desperate need to hire - offered good full-time jobs to anybody who had taken that class and gotten anything remotely passable.  So my Mom became one of the very first female professional programmers.  It's important to note that my mom is very attractive; tall, blonde, etc.  So, yeah, you can just imagine.  She never talked about it much, but I know she was subject to all kinds of harassment.  I do remember, when I was older, that she talked about this one guy she worked for - Ned - who was a total sleaze.  It's funny the way my parents met, because my Dad met my mom at work and kinda stalked her for almost half a year, asking her out repeatedly until she finally said yes.  What's funny about that story is that my Mom doesn't even really remember all that; she was oblivious.  Growing up, what I remember about my Mom was that she was always, always right, which was deeply infuriating, especially when I was a teenager.  My Mom is a perfectionist; she can walk into a room and immediately tell you which fork on the table is in the wrong place.  I learned a lot of things from her, mostly good things like work ethic, and the power of doing the right thing, and the joy of math and engineering.  I also learned, though, that people are only good if they are right, and that your worth is dependent on how good of a job you do, and a lot of other unhelpful things.  My mom - by her own admission - didn't have much of a maternal instinct.  I never really got a surplus of hugs.  Her way of showing she cared was to set me up for success in life, which is how I wound up taking the SAT 4 times, or applying to 13 of the top 25 colleges.  

My Dad, on the other hand, actually comes across as kind of jokey and lazy at first (which couldn't be further from the truth).  He's a Dad's Dad, full of bad Dad jokes.  He was the son of a troubled family; his Mom was cool, but she was kind of weak, and she died when he was 12.  His Dad was an absolute jerk; the kind of 1950s era male jerk that hopefully you don't see too much of anymore.  He didn't care at all about the kids.  I know this because he was still alive when I was born and didn't pass away until I was about 20 or so, but I only met him once or twice.  He used to drive with his new wife straight down I-95 twice a year, coming within 10 miles of our house, and never stopped.  He sent me a pencil set for my graduation - the only thing he ever bought me - and he engraved them with his own name.  When my Mom died, he sent the kids off to live god knows where.  For a while my Dad lived with his grandma, and then his Dad was forced to take the kids back.  What my Dad remembers most about growing up is being on his own; leaving the house, sometimes, at the age of 13, and not coming home for days.  He learned about life the hard way, and his whole life I think he's secretly felt that people largely don't give a crap about each other (because nobody gave much of a crap about him).  Which hasn't stopped him from being an awesome person.  He left to join the Navy, served 3 years - hated every minute - then got out and put some of his new Navy electronics skills to work sorting checks at a bank.  Despite not having a college degree, he worked his way from the mail room all the way up to VP of the bank.  My Dad has always worked really hard; whether that be with raising us, remodeling houses, at the bank; he never shies away from a difficult problem, and he generally has a pretty good attitude.

My parents did a good job of raising me and my younger brother.  We never wanted for anything.  They paid for us to go to college; education was super important to both of them.  We learned about how to be good people.  They sent us to church until we were old enough to decide if we wanted to go on our own (answer: no).  I fought with my parents, especially my Mom.  Mostly, the problem I had as a child was that I felt like I never really got to *be* a child.  My parents treated us like young adults.  That worked out OK for my younger brother, but it didn't work out so well for me.  I definitely had an inner goofball, an inner child, that felt out of place in my family.  My parents don't really goof around.

As an adult, my parents have become helpful friends.  Sometimes I wish they were more obvious about how much they loved me; more affectionate.  They don't call very often, and I wish they would.  But, they're always there for me if I need them.  There are very few people I can call anytime of the day or night, but my parents will always pick up the phone.  They deserve the awesome twilight years they are having now; I get the sense that they're having a lot of fun in Florida, and I think that's awesome because they deserve it.  I respect their hard work and attitude towards life.  I also think it's great that they're in such great health because it bodes well for me as I get older.  My Dad just picked up going to the gym, even though he's in his 70s.

One of the things I've learned from meeting so many people in San Francisco, and doing so much dating, is how *terrible* a lot of parents are.  I used to complain a lot more about mine, until I started to realize how bad it could have been!  I'd say my parents are at least in the 90th percentile!  Anyway, that's a bit of insight into my folks, Bob and Camille.

Day 403 - San Francisco, CA

Tonight I went and watched the movie “Inside Out”.  A lot of people had told me this was a great movie, and those people were right.  But it was more than just a great movie.  It was permission to feel sad.

A warning: this post is a bit of a spoiler.  If you haven’t seen the movie, and you think you want to (and you should, because it’s great), *and* you feel like the narrative is going to be a big part of your enjoyment, then don’t read the rest of this.  This movie operates on two levels.  On the one level, it’s just a really good Pixar action-adventure movie that strikes their usual balance between being kid-friendly and still being very much on an adult level.  There are fun dramatic action sequences, interesting characters, a plot, a good guy, some evil forces (no real bad guy, which is one of the interesting things which we’ll get to), etc., etc.  It works as a pure hollywood movie, if that’s all you want to see it as.

But on another level, it’s a pretty deep philosophical commentary.  Which is noteworthy in and of itself.  This is the first movie they’ve made that I honestly think everyone in the entire world should see, because it speaks to a really core part of the human experience.  I guess the opening sequence of Up, dealing with aging and loss, is the closest equivalent; but this time they made that into the whole movie.  What Inside Out really is, is permission to feel sad.  And that’s something I needed to hear right now.

It’s hard, right now, for me to be sad.  There’s a lot of reasons for this.  Some of them are purely in my head, and some are not.  First of all, I’m male, and men just societally are not rewarded for their emotions.  Second, I’m 38, and people who are 38 are supposed to have their shit together.  Third, I’m single, and as a single person, you feel like you’re constantly on stage.  Nobody wants to date someone who’s depressed.  Fourth, I’m a software engineer, and the child of two software engineers.  I was not raised to have emotions.  My emotions frightened and confused my parents.  In our family, I’m basically the drama queen.  Watching how sad and scared my parents would get when I felt sad, I learned to try very hard not to feel sad.  Fifth, I live in San Francisco.  Loss, and sadness, and regret are just not something we seem to do well in this town.  SF is all about the next shiny new thing.  People try very hard not to age.  They build defenses against loss, primarily by just (pretending to) not give a shit about anything.  We do sarcasm, disgust, fear and anger really well, but *sadness* is just not something that gets talked about a lot.  There’s nothing cool about being depressed.  That wasn’t true, by the way, where I grew up, in Buffalo.  In Buffalo, people understand that sadness is part of a well-balanced way of life.  We spend 3 or 4 months buried under snow and grey skies, so yeah, we get it.  And a funny thing, too: I’ve never seen people happier than Buffalonians during those precious 3 or 4 weeks of pure summer.  Everyone is out having the best time ever, because they know what’s coming.  In SF, we don’t have seasons.  Every day is either perfect or slightly colder then you want it to be, depending on your frame of reference.  But no seasons.

So, yeah - sadness is not supposed to be on the menu.  But here’s the thing: I’m fucking sad.  No, I’m not depressed.  I used to be depressed, but I’m really not anymore.  I’m looking forward to the good things in my life that are hopefully on the horizon, and I’m energized by the things that I have in the works.  But that does not mean that I am not sad.  Because I am.  Sometimes, I’m really sad.  Some days are hard.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to get out of bed.

I’ve spent the last 7 years bouncing from short-term relationship to short-term relationship.  I’ve told 4 or 5 people that I loved them, only to have that loved rejected or ignored.  When I look back at Christmases and New Years, I’m mostly in the frame alone.  Almost every fun thing I’ve done over the last 7 years, I did with someone who’s no longer here to talk about it with.  And that makes me sad.  Really sad.  I’m someone who likes to form deep relationships, but the people around me have mostly rejected that.  I’m 38 years old, and my best friends are still those I made a long time ago, people I never get to see.  When I wake up in the morning, I have nobody there with me, and yeah, that makes me really sad.  And the more I push that down, the more I pretend it doesn’t bother me, well, the worse it gets.  I need permission to be sad - usefully sad - about that.  Because, like the movie shows us, every emotion has a purpose.  Fear keeps us safe.  Disgust keeps us from getting poisoned.  Anger gives us the strength to confront injustice.  And sadness is important too.  First, it’s important as a foil to happiness.  Things that are bittersweet are often the sweetest things of all.  There is no doubt in my mind that, when I finally do make a long life partner, I will treasure that person, and the happiness they bring.  The sadness deepens my resolve to enjoy the good moments in life.  It’s taught me to slow down, take things one at a time, and really embody them.  I used to race from thing to thing because I never valued the happiness that was right in front of me.  Now I do, because I know what loss feels like.

But also, just like fear, I think sadness motivates us.  I need to not live in San Francisco.  I need to not have shallow people in my life.  I need to spend my time outdoors, staying fit, smelling the fresh air, enjoying the world around me.  Not trapped at a computer, or drinking at bars.  I have a really good grasp now on what makes me happy and what makes me sad, and I need to move my life towards those things I enjoy.  Not the things that make me money, or that other people tell me I should do, but the stuff that really is *me*.  And it’s sadness that taught me that.

But make no mistake about it: being sad fucking sucks.  And I’ve had enough for now.  I’ve had enough in the last 7 years.  My sadness meter is full.  It serves a useful purpose, but it’s time to move on.  Letting the sad flow through me ensures that I don’t wallow in it, or relive it over and over.  And I won’t; I’ll fix this.  And when I do, it will be all the sweeter.

Day 402 - San Francisco, CA

Continuing on the week of positivity, today I want to highlight something which has become incredibly important in my life - Mazamas, a Mountaineering organization based out of Portland.  For a long time now, I've been looking for a way to turn my passion for fitness and the outdoors into something with a community.  As my relationships with people become more and more a central part of my life, and as my hobbies lean more and more towards the outdoors and staying fit, I've been searching for an organization that breeds community and also has roots in the outdoors, and I finally found it!  A few of you know the story about how I was looking for a place to stay up near Mt. Hood when heading for Snowboarding lessons.  Well, the lessons ended up being a mixed bag, but what was incredibly important turned out to be the place I stayed that night - the Mazamas Lodge.  What I really like about Mazamas is that, in this era of digital things and transient whims, it's an organization that has its roots in things that feel real.  They have a mountaineering center in Portland, they have a lodge at Mt Hood.  They feel real and solid.  They run camps, and training seminars, and have frequent climbs.  And they don't rely on Facebook or Twitter to attract new people, but rather the old school combination of doing an awesome job of what they do and relying on word of mouth.  One of my favorite aspects of the organization is the climb schedule.  Every April - as they have for over 100 years - they release a list of the official mountain climbs they have scheduled for that season.  Of course, there are many unofficial, or "private", climbs, but these are officially sanctioned by the organization and intended for members (and non-members) to apply to.  They are categorized for difficulty and technique.  There's an aura of amateur professionalism about them which has its roots in the amateur climbing clubs going back to the 19th century in England.  And the way you apply to these climbs?  No, it's not online.  You order "climb cards", physical pieces of card stock where you list your resume for climbing and personal details.  Then you mail this card off to the leader of the climb - yes, mail it, as in go to the post office.  They then get all the cards, decides who gets to go and who is on the wait list, and physically detach the bottom section of the card and mail it back to you!  It's really awesome because it feels like Christmas, or maybe the day you got into college.  Getting those response cards in the mail is really fun.

And, of course, the climbs themselves are amazing.  I've been on 3 official climbs now, and hiked with some members unofficially a few times, and everyone I've met has been unequivocally awesome. 

I wish I had more things like Mazamas in my life.  Groups of people united in a common goal, with a grounding in reality and an old-school sensibility that I find comforting.  Because I am sort of a "wind" person, floating around, groups like this really ground me and comfort me.  And, of course, mountaineering is awesome!  So, Mazamas, here's to many years of fun, and many peaks to come. 

Day 401 - San Francisco, CA

Today I want to write about sleep.  Now, sleep seems like a pretty simple topic.  Just get some.  Done.  But, of course, life is all about priorities.  I'm sure we all want sleep.  I want sleep.  But then an opportunity comes up, and you end up doing something like driving all over Oregon, and suddenly, you're not sleeping too much for 4 or 5 days in a row, and then, things start to happen.

I think, for me, sleeping - how much to sleep, lack of sleep - is remarkably similar to alcohol.  I still drink; just last night I had a couple with some friends.  But there's three things I've learned about drinking: one, don't drink so much.  Two, drinking is kind of like a mood enhancer; when I'm happy, it makes me happier, but when I'm down, it makes it worse.  And three, and most importantly - when I'm drunk, I can't trust myself.  I just can't do anything important when I'm drunk.  8 of the top 10 worst days in my life are easily traced to just drinking too much, and then trying to do something important when I'm drunk.  By important I mean something like having a discussion with my girlfriend, or thinking about major decisions in my life.  That seems obvious, right?  Don't drink and text.  Any decisions you make while drunk are basically worthless.  If your job seems crappy, or you think you should move to Iceland, it's important to have the self-awareness to say "this is just drunk me thinking".  

Well, it turns out that, for me anyway, the same thing is true about lack of sleep.  In my life, I've had a lot of days where things just didn't seem to be going very well.  I felt stuck in whatever I was doing, nervous that I was doing it poorly, worried that I was forgetting something important.  I would often have this vague sense that I should change everything, that I should quit my job, or my relationship, or change my apartment, or whatever.  And, looking back on it, it seems clear now that a lot of that was just due to lack of sleep.  Instead of rearranging everything in my apartment, what I really needed to do was take a nap.  Much cheaper.

The reason this is so important is that it can waste a ton of time and turn into a vicious circle.  When I'm tired, I sometimes decide that I need to do a bunch of important things, which of course means that I don't sleep, which makes me even more tired, etc.  A lot of my coping mechanisms around lack of sleep make me even more tired, such as drinking caffeine instead of water, or trying to do something entertaining at night before I go to sleep, or having an iPad in bed.  It's, again, similar to drinking: when you start getting drunk, there comes a point where it feels like the best idea ever is to have another drink, and you start heading down the drain.  The thing is, though, even at my absolute worst, I've never gotten hammered more than two nights in a row, whereas I've been chronically unrested for as much as months at a time.  And it makes everything suck: studies show that people who haven't had enough sleep eat poorly, can't drive a car, get anxious and irritable with other people, etc., etc.

So, yes: self-awareness, as always, is the answer.  When I'm feeling anxious or irritable, the first question to ask is: how much sleep have I had?  And if the answer is "not quite enough", then everything - everything - has to wait until I can take a nap!

Day 400 - Hidden Lake Peak, North Cascades, WA

OK! There are some heavy topics bouncing around in my brain, but for today, we're going to take a break and do a bit of a travelog!  I spent the last four days traveling around the state of Washington, going on two major hikes with the Mazamas Mountaineering organization.  The first was a scenic hike of Goat Rock, located in the central cascades, in Washington.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goat_Rocks_Wilderness.  This hike was billed as one of the most beautiful I'd ever go on, which was a high bar, but it delivered.  I did the hike with the Adventurous Young Mazamas, which is the youth branch of Mazamas.  There were 8 of us all settled in for a 12.8 mile loop hike, with about 2500 feet change in elevation.  The weather was cold and foggy, which turned out to be just perfect.  The night before we camped at the Berrypatch Trailhead.  My car was 3 guys (including me) who had never met before, and we got along excellently (thanks, Kevin and Chris!).  We couldn't find the rest of the group so ended up camping on our own, but we caught up with them in the morning and headed out about 10 am.  I don't have particular memories of the beginning and end of the hike; it's the middle 5-6 miles that were truly spectacular.  Arriving into a caldera, you hike up the broken side of the wall which descends into a long, green valley, strewn with rocks.  With the day being so foggy and cold it was hard not to be reminded of the Irish countryside.  It would be easy to shoot footage in there and use it for Scotland, or Wales.  The hike gets its name from the mountain goats in the area, but by the time we reached the lake about 8 miles in, we hadn't seen any.  The lake itself is magnificent; nestled in the caldera itself, it was a greenish tint, surrounded by a layer of fog.  We camped and ate on rocks along the shore.  It rained on us, briefly, but we soldiered on.  Then, we turned a corner - and there they were!  About 20 goats, all ranged over about 200 metres of land, totally unconcerned with our presence.  They're big!  And very wild, fur flinging this way and that.  Actually pretty majestic, which is not something I think of for goats.  Moving on a little further, we interrupted a marmot camp, and found ourselves surrounded by about 8-10 of them, arranged around us.  They really look like a cross between big cats and ferrets, and they're awesome when they stand on hind legs to eat the flowers.  We also saw pika, and deer.  The hike was great and the company even better.

Two days later, I went on an official Mazamas climb (I was encouraged to note the difference between hikes and climbs), of Hidden Lake Peak.  This was another magnificent climb, although very different.  It was really warm, and brilliantly sunny.  We spent the first few miles hiking up through fields of wildflowers, dense colors along the trail.  Then we emerged abruptly into rocks and clambered up the rest of the way to a view of the lake.  My favorite part was actually a cabin which had been built at the top of the mountain, where I ended up taking a blissful 30 minute nap after the 40+ hours of driving I'd done.  It's the first time I had ever slept on a bed at the top of a mountain.  I sincerely hope it will not be the last.  The cabin was amazing to me because it was a labor of love; a community effort that had lasted all these years.  It wasn't an "official" cabin or camp, and it wasn't run by the Forest Service; they tolerated it, but it was maintained by volunteers.  I want to go back.

The trip was long and exhausting, but it was absolutely 100% worth it.  Enjoy the pictures!

Day 398 - Goat Lake, Central Cascades, WA

Today I'm going to write about love*.  I recently had the good fortune to be able to tell someone that I loved them.  Specifically, I told them that I loved them, and would still love them 20 years from now.  I've been lucky enough to have this happy occasion a couple of times in my life, and this person asked me a question I've been asked before: "How do you know?".  Like I said, I've been asked this question before, and when I'm asked, I always just kind of sit there, stunned and stupid, which of course gives the impression that maybe I don't know, that I'm making it up.  But it's really the opposite.  To me, love is like the color red.  I can get a can of red paint, and when I look at it, I might think various things about it, but one thing I will know is that it is red.  Someone may then use that red paint to paint a sunset, or a butcher knife, and I may say that I like one thing and don't like the other, but what won't change is the fact that they are red, the essential red-ness of the thing.  Love, to me, is like that.  It's not dependent on what might happen any more than red is.  So asking me how I know is like asking me how I can tell something is red.  Which, of course, is hard to explain, because how *do* you know that something is red?  You can change a lot of things about it, it can morph into different things, but it still stays red.  That's not to say that you absolutely can't destroy love ever.  If you work really hard at it, you can scrub an entire can of red paint off a wall; you can flake off every single little piece one at a time.  But you would have to go at it tooth and nail, and even then, some of that red will probably still be sitting, somewhere.  You could paint it over, but it's still red underneath.  You can move away from it, but that won't change anything.

I have a roommate that dyes clothing.  She uses these really intense pigments.  She's pretty good about trying to stay clean, but still, that stuff is messy and it gets everywhere, and it's really hard to clean up once it gets on something.  Love is like that, too.  You can scrub it off one surface only to look up and find that it touched something else.  You can carefully pour it from container to container, but damned if sometimes it doesn't just get on everything anyway.

I'm not sure love works this way for everybody.  I don't have any idea if this is a universal condition or just something that happens to certain people.  Maybe I'm just inclined to love.  If so, I'm happy that I was built that way.  It makes me happy to love.  It's very far from a zero sum game.  When I love people or things, even if they don't love me back, it makes me feel like a better person.  I feel more connected to who I really am.  It's kind of fun, actually.  And thinking positively about one thing makes me think positively about others. 

To some of you, this might sound really stupid or naive, like I'm talking in circles.  But it's how I really feel.  I don't love people because they are smart, or pretty, or interesting.  I'm reminded of a thing that Neil DeGrasse Tyson said a while back (I swear he said this, although I can't find any evidence, so take that with a grain of salt).  He was on a Christian talk show (he's an agnostic, sort of) and the woman asked him why, if he didn't believe in the Bible, he didn't just kill people all the time.  And his response was perfect: you're scared of me because you think I might kill someone (he said), but I am way more scared of you because you seem to be telling me that the only reason you don't kill people is because a magic book tells you not to.  I don't kill people (he continues), because I just *don't*.  I don't even *want to*.  It's not a part of me.  Love, to me, is also like that.  If you love someone, or something, just because it is tall, or short, or blue, or because a book tells you to, or whatever, then that is kind of scary; both for you, and for that thing or person.  Because that kind of love could go away anytime!  You'd be constantly worried that person might gain weight, or paint themselves green.  You'd be guarded all the time.  But if you can love something or someone completely, then you can lean into it, not worried that it might go away or change, because that wasn't why you loved them in the first place.  Does that make any sense?  I hope so.

*I went on an amazing hike yesterday, but tomorrow would be a better day for a travelogue post.

Day 397 - Portland, OR

Last night I went on a really fun date.  Near the end of the date we got on the subject of where a person is from.  I had asked her where she was from, and she was saying that she was born in New Mexico, but didn't feel like she was from there because she moved when she was 2.  She had actually lived in a bunch of places, but the place that she *felt* like she was from was New England.  She felt like that best matched her.

She, of course, asked me where I was from.  That's always been a difficult question for me.  What's the right answer?  Is it where you were actually born?  For a lot of people, that doesn't make sense.  Like my date.  Is it where you spent the majority of your childhood?  For me, that's Jacksonville, FL - but of all the places I've ever lived, that's the place I feel like I'm from the *least*.  I kind of recoil at thinking of myself as being from there.  Is it the place you spent your "formative years"?  Well, which are those?  Is it the place you have the most memories from?

Maybe it's the place you like the most?  That seems nice, but it isn't really accurate.  What if your personality is formed by your intense dislike for the place you grew up?  My ex was from a small town in Texas that she felt very much she did not ever want to go back to - but she was clearly, obviously from there.  

At the end of the day, much like we were talking about the other day on this blog in the post on sexuality, I feel like the only honest answer is that the place you're from is the place you *feel* like you're from.  And the odd thing, for me, is that of all places, the place I feel like I'm from the most...is Portland.  But how can that be?  I lived here for one month, a month ago.  I know almost nothing about the place, all told.  And yet...I feel drawn here.  It feels right.  A close second would be Austin, which feels very similar to Portland.  Maybe what I'm really reacting to is a feeling of being from what they call a "tribe"...a mentality...a way of life, that Portland/Austin/Madison/Boulder seem to embody.  

So, the next time someone asks me where I'm from, I'm going to say Portland, and see how that feels.  And confuse everyone.  :)

Day 396 - San Francisco, CA

Today, I want to talk about helping people.  Or maybe, more specifically, not being able to help people.  Lately, one of the themes of my life is having people around me who I care about very much, and are having some sort of serious problem, but I can't help them.  For someone like me who is very empathic and wants to be helpful, this can be a really stressful situation.  One of my friends, for example, was very upset recently and called saying that she desperately needed someone to talk to.  Another friend is extremely nervous about something coming up.  The reasons why I can't help vary all over the place.  Sometimes I can't help because of logistical things; I am not physically with the person, for example.  Sometimes it's just emotional; they don't trust me to help, they aren't willing to accept help, or aren't ready for help.  There's as many reasons as there are friends.  But it's incredibly painful to see them suffer and know that there's just nothing to do.  Maybe that's one of the sad aspects of being human; the knowledge that, at the end of the day, there's really nothing we can do for another person who's suffering.  They have to make their own changes.  And of course, the challenge there is to stay engaged; to remember that there *are* things we can do, sometimes, and stay ready to help when I can.  It's tempting to just close the doors, isolate myself from other people, avoid getting involved with them.  Especially those people with problems.  But of course they are the ones that need the engagement the most.

Day 395 - San Francisco, CA

Today, I got my tooth out.  Tooth #2, specifically.  I have a fear of dentists and of needles, so for me, this was a bit of a nerve-wracking proposition.  But as I sat there, in the dentists chair, meditating to get my heart rate down, it occurred to me:  who, exactly, is afraid?  That may seem like a goofy question to ask, but it comes from my Buddhist training: who is afraid, exactly?  After all, this is something I wanted to do.  I very much wanted that tooth out of my mouth because of all the pain it was causing me.  I started doing an inventory of my mind: scientific mind?  No, he's on board: this is a good idea.  We double checked with multiple doctors, and saw the X-rays; the tooth is dead.  Financial brain?  Nope, great idea: $300 instead of over $4500.  True self?  Nope, he's good with it; in fact, the more I delved into my own psyche, the more I discovered a kind of quiet curiosity about the whole process.  So who is afraid?  Somebody is, clearly, inside there.  My stomach hurts, I'm gripping the armrest.  Whatever that thing is, I visualized it as a small child; my inner child.  It was confused; it didn't have the equipment to understand what was happening.  It was an unfamiliar environment, and it brought to mind unpleasant circumstances from my childhood.  That little 8-year-old me was sad, and scared, and hurt.  

I value that part of me.  It's the part that still loves people.  It's the part that believes in romance, and faith, and love.  It also believes that needles will somehow destroy it, and dentists are terrible people.  So it has to be treated with care.  But in that moment, realizing who it was that was afraid made the rest of me want to comfort it.  My science brain and my logical mind and my true self all wanted to hold its hand; and so they did.  And lo and behold, my blood pressure dropped, my heart rate dropped, and while I was still scared, I knew that, even alone, I was surrounded by friendly faces.

And it didn't even hurt!  (But the dentist forgot to give me a lollipop).