Alone In Public

We spent some time in a small berg in Eastern Washington the other day, picking the day that was both the hottest day of the year AND the most-crowded day of the year in that berg.  The effect 11 degrees Fahrenheit can have on one’s ability to throttle age or odor-related epithets in a crowd is REAL, folks.  And having a very curious toddler weaving across foot traffic into ANOTHER store selling kettle corn… WHO NEEDS THIS MUCH KETTLE CORN… compounds one’s calm demeanor, even when your dopamine levels should be up.

I don’t know if I have ever had a real panic attack.  I feel like I’ve teetered on the edge a few times, and frankly I am over-tired of people who act like my need to excuse myself from cacophonous areas and tightly-packed rooms is a weakness.  I am grown up.  I am an adult.  There are some times I can totally tough it out.  And other times I have nothing to prove to a small store full of strangers, none of us making eye contact, while a 3 year-old yanks porcelain figures off the “DO NOT TOUCH EVEN THOUGH THIS IS AT TODDLER LEVEL” display.  And as my head filled with white noise and people seemed to gear-down from “sloooow” to “barely moving,” I had to get out.  The medical term is “get the fuck out right now.”

The feeling of being stuck is bad enough for me to deal with.  There’s something about being penned-in that bothers me greatly, even though I can see there’s NOTHING dangerous happening.  I think more it’s the fact that I look at people’s faces and they seem to be totally unaffected by the mass they have created.  Same thing in traffic.  I know, I’m part of the mass, but why isn’t anybody moving?  Why aren’t we moving a little more quickly, even a half-step more? Add to that a kid who is eye-to-butt with a lot of people and is touching things he’s not supposed to only because we’ve made a horrible choice to come into the Crystal Solitude retail outlet, and how about I just scream and run out with my kid over my shoulder like the dam burst?  Because that seems more rational than the 8 minute route we’re taking to the exit.

My real issue with this is that my need to loosen up my bounds is looked upon like some personality disorder.  For some reason, be it that I don’t like crowds that cannot move properly, or I am an Aquarius and can only take some much of being surrounded, or because I’m somewhat neurotic about keeping my kid from side-arming a $395 ceramic Halloween Gnome across the room, my “must have space” need gets the stink eye from  people.  And with our society slowing down thanks to technology (I am advocating a roped-off area for all publicly-standing texters) it’s only going to get worse.  But not for me. 

I am making a pledge right now that I will be more vocal about people slowing things down, walking the wrong way, leaving their grocery carts unattended, staring at their phones, being rude, and in general, acting like they are alone in public.  Because that sounds lovely, and if I can’t have it, everybody won’t.

0

Gimme Moore: I Opened For Bob Saget

I recently had the privilege and pleasure of opening for Bob Saget’s TV Special taping at The Moore Theatre in Seattle.  Before I go any further I must tell you that I was recently told to not be so humble or self-deprecating when it comes to my achievements.  I honestly have to be, because I’m just not a guy who can toot my own horn too loudly.  Those who toot the loudest usually are off-key and poorly trained, so I keep my tooting down a bit.

But opening for Bob was awesome.  Really, really fun.  First, Bob Saget’s one of the nicest guys I’ve met in comedy and show business.  Truly a sweet guy who has a comedic dark streak and embraces it.  His history as a TV host and the TV dad (possibly the only one they ever had) to the Olsen Twins belies the fact that his act is “dirty,” hilarious, and unflinching.  And it’s not “in your face,” it’s just there to be laughed about.  I was really happy to work with him again, and he was very gracious in meeting my wife and good friends backstage.  He’d met some of my buddies earlier this year at the Snoqualmie Casino show we did in March, and was just as cool.  Consistency is truth.

 Second, and screw the humility a moment, there’s a point in every comedians dreams where a full club is roaring with laughter and screaming and you can’t hear yourself think because your last words got ‘em frothy.  That happened for me a few times that night.  Having over 1,000 people go nuts like that – AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SAY ‘WHAT’S UP SEAATTLLLEEE?!?!?” was a huge moment in my comedy career.  It was a wall of appreciation, laughter, and good taste.  I took a moment to take it all in. 

 Finally, in this market it’s tough to build on that success because there’s not too much else to do.  BUT, I have been bugging Bob about doing some work in Vegas.  He likes my stuff, I show up and do my work and get his crowd amped, and we get along greatly.  So we’ll see what else happens.  In the meantime I’ll be at my desk working on my Project Management certifications, hearing some new blowhard talk about all the things wrong with Project Management in America, wondering if this guy understands how loud his tooting is. 

1

Driving Home Your Message

Drivers are more distracted than ever.  It’s the phones.  The mobile phone is present in most of our cars.  If you’re reading this you likely have a mobile device.  These aren’t just phones any more.  That little case is 98% entertainment/communication/organization device, and 2% phone.  And because enough people focus too much attention on their phones and not on their driving, traffic fatalities are up over the past few years.  I say “enough” people because I’ve seen it too often to know we have “enough,” which, if you need it quantified, is at least 5% of the drivers on the roads.  A recent study showed 20% OF PEOPLE REGULARLY WRITE AND SEND TEXT MESSAGES WHILE DRIVING.   

I commute about 35 miles, round-trip, in some heavy traffic on a daily basis.  I rarely go more than 50 yards without seeing the tell-tale signs of a distracted driver.  Where most folks are packed in close to the cars around them, there’s maybe a 5-10 car-length opening in front of a car.  As I pass it I see the driver, usually a young woman (sorry, could be an old woman, too) with her eyes cast downward, away from the road for 2-5 seconds.  That’s a lot on the highway.  Guys do it, too.  Glancing down even if their phone is up near their early-20’s face.  Then they glance up, and right back down to their lap or thereabouts. Something must be verrry important.

Imagine you’re driving a reasonable 35mph.  Close your eyes and count “1-Mississippi, 2-Mississippi.”  Open them for 1 second, close them again and count.  That’s about what I’ve seen people doing while behind the wheel of a car.  Driving and not causing an accident and catching on fire and not making it to work for bagel day apparently isn’t enough motivation.  Whatever is happening on that phone – UFO Landing?  Bigfoot visiting St. Jude’s?  STREAMING VIDEO OF THEIR CHILD’S BIRTH ON A SPACESTATION, right? – has taken precedent over the safety of everybody else on the roads, including their own.  And we don’t have the right to endanger other people.   And the age ranges of the perpetrators vary wildly , so we’re all to blame. 

I’ve also seen this on surface streets.  Last year I was pushing a stroller fully-loaded with a ready-to-run toddler up to a crosswalk.  No light or stop sign for cross traffic, the pedestrian just grabs a flag to help identify themselves.  The far lane, crossing right-to-left, stopped.  As I looked at the curb lane closest to me, a car about 50 feet away going about 30mph was driven by a woman who’s face was aimed lap-ward, about 6 cars following her.  She glanced up over the top of her sunglasses then right back to her lap.  Never slowed down.  As she passed I shouted “HEY” through her open passenger window and got her attention.  Abruptly.  Of course she snapped-to and gave me a dirty look and hand-wave from her car.  God-forbid I distract this driver!  The car behind her had slowed to a stop, and that driver was shaking her head.  Everybody’s responsible for their own actions, and I’m not going to endanger myself or my family to prove a point.  Still, that chick’s a shithead. 

According to one study, drivers who are texting are 4 times slower to brake than drivers who are at the very least “impaired” by alcohol, if not legally drunk.  This infographic has more interesting facts about the dangers of Texting & Driving.  It also states that drivers are six times more likely to get in an accident (cause one, basically) when dialing a number. 

So, make text-related traffic stops, tickets, and accidents as harshly punishable as DUIs, or even moreso.  But firstly, do the right thing and put your phone down on the road, listen to podcasts, and zone out the way you used to.  Eventually our cars will block all communications unless the car is turned off and sittin under an overpass.  As long as a few keep doing this and aren’t openly chastised and heavily penalized (like a person can own a cell phone but no carrier can give them a plan for less than $500/month), it’ll keep happening.  Be careful out there.

0

Nobody Cares, Burnout

Did a show last night for about 300 people in a large casino North of Seattle.  Most everybody seemed to like me.  Not everybody’s always gonna like me.  Not on-stage, not on the roads, not in the aisle of a grocery store when I’m putting stuff in their unattended carts.  I’m okay with that. 

After my set last night, the headliner’s on-stage, and I am standing near the entrance and a guy walks out, passes me and the MC, and stops to tell the room manager “At least this guy’s (the headliner) funnier than the other two.”  This is a free show, BTW.  Zero fiscal commitment from the patrons.  It’s all on the entertainers.  Gas money.  Time spent driving, etc.  But apparently this guy wasn’t getting what he wanted until 5 minutes into the headliner’s act, and loved it so much, in fact, that he waited all the way through my 40min set to get up and hit the men’s room.

10 minutes later I am leaving, and the Unhappy Methadoner isn’t back yet.  I bump into a group of 20-something gals who are dressed like it’s Vegas night-out, I appreciate the enthusiasm.  They were in the show and thought I was “Hilarious” and “Awesome” and I think a “hella” was in there.  They want a picture with me, I say “Sure” because it makes them look more attractive since I’m a mess.  As we stand there waiting for a stranger to hit the button…. hit the button… just hit the red… it’s the button on the phone, here let me show you…

And here comes The Critic, strolling by our picture.  All of the best critics of stand-up comedians with acts based on their microcosmic extrapolation from personal to societal ills can be spotted because they know SO MUCH about comedy and what FUNNY is, that they wear cargo shorts and socks with their tactical boots because fashion takes a backseat to breaking down joke and act structure.  Guy knows his stuff.  And as he walks by, we finish the picture, and the critic pauses… to say something in passing.  Not even a Stop, Say It, Move On.  He’s kind of walking by at the same time.  And he says “You were okay, this guy’s funnier.“

My response?  “Yeah? Fuck off.” That got his attention.  He stopped and looked at me the way all shitdogs do, like his feelings were hurt for having had his opinion challenged.  You’re free to express yourself.  As am I.  And that’s how I expressed MYself.  He didn’t like what I had to say (contractually obligated) for 40minutes.  I didn’t like what he HAD TO SAY (as if it mattered) in a split second.

The laughing reaction of a crowd of strangers tells me I did my job properly.  Don’t like my act?  Find something else to do IN A CASINO.  If you’re at a show and hate me, you probably don’t “get me,” but that’s verrrry rare, and I barely ever intend to totally bore and offend an audience (unless I’m at the dayjob).  But if you make a point to voice your negative opinion about my act, or any other comedian’s act after they had 8 applause breaks and 4 jokes with over 10seconds of laughter from 275+ people, the only punchline you’ll understand is…

Fuck off.

4

Asleep At The Real

Sleep is a fickle lover, idn’t it?

If I were to be embraced by sleep nightly, welcomed into her arms and pulled deep into her embrace, for her to put forth all the effort to make me feel safe and refreshed, eventually I would need less.  And when she decides what I feel about her she makes up her mind without consulting me on my feelings.

She whispers into the ears of my wife “he’s with me…” and my wife may get jealous.  Because her Sleep isn’t infusing her with rejuvenation.  He eludes her.  He brushes past her with a wink.

He teases her.  He approaches her and tells her to relax, only to step away, returning well after a normal sleeping hour has passed.  He exhausts her.  While she waits, I slumber lightly.

So little sleep is causing so many other issues.  Advice comes and goes.  Insomnia, well, that’s a hard one to shake off.

And if nobody’s feeling rested, everything else blooooows ass.

0

A Sandwich Too Small

George Carlin once said a lot of dirty stuff you want to scream at people writing checks at a grocery store.  He also said “Women are crazy and men are stupid.  But women are crazy because men are stupid.”  Something like that.  I often see little bits & pieces, graphics here and there taking digs at how dumb or helpless men are.

I won’t defend all men.  I can’t.  A lot of men are dickheads.  A lot of men are also great people.  Some are incredibly normal and unnervingly personable with no explicit personality issues.  Some guys are complete sociopaths and should have died in a Jeep rollover a long time ago and had their organs go to save worthy lives.  Some guys, however, are good Men.

They have to get up and go to work every day to keep the lights on and bills paid for their family.  They do it with a song in their heart, even if somedays that song is “Necrophobic” by Slayer.  And they do it because they love their family.  On the way to work they burn an hour in the car.  On the way home they burn 75minutes and have to go to the store to get something for dinner because the loves of his life are at home, tired, sick and haven’t had the energy to get dinner together.  When he gets home he realizes he’s on patrol to get the kids bathed and in bed while his wife zones out on exhaustion and a chest cold she got from their daughter’s last play date. 

Oh wait, shit… he has to iron some shirts for work, too.  And fold the laundry and get another load going so the kids have stuff to wear for the rest of the week.  It’s only Tuesday.  The days run together.  Gotta get a sitter for Saturday night, too, so he can take his wife out for anything, even for just two hours of face time.  Did the bills get paid?  Better check the online bill payer.  Get that handled.  Kid’s lunches for tomorrow, check.  Kids bathed and in bed, check.  Shirts ironed, check.

Oh look… it’s 11:40pm.  Everybody is asleep except him, who was also up before everybody else today.  And everybody is asleep.  At home, in their beds, safe, and resting.  A good day.  Done.

And that’s part of the gig for the moment.  Handling a lot of shit.  And keeping schedules together.  And working and making money and trying to keep Life from digging her heels in and being a bitch, instead of a dance partner. 

He made the mortgage payment, car payment, insurance premium, kid’s lunches, doctor’s appointments, and read a couple stories to the kids.  He didn’t put together some wet-panty plaque to post on Pinterest about how hard life is.  He didn’t make a snarky Facebook update about how he’s running the show.  And no, he didn’t make a sandwich. 

Maybe tomorrow he’ll treat himself to a meal combo under $5 somewhere. 

0

Is Consulting For You?

Consulting is nothing new to business.  It’s been happening since the first caveman asked a buddy to figure out how they could get more speed on their spear-throws.  They had different words for “spear” and “buddy,” of course, which we now call “product” and “peer.”  So the path has been well-worn for at least 50 years.  Are you thinking about walking it?

I first left a major company after realizing there was literally nowhere for my career to go.  That was after seven years of skill development, great benefits, moderate pay increases, and being taken-over by a competitor.  I had some skills that might keep me working there, for a bit more money, but it was up to me to get out and look for something better.  Why?  Because I had debt, of course!  But honestly, hey, we’re working people.  We are hunters, hence the “job hunt.”  Hey, that’s why I’m here.  Let me show you how to get more distance on that resumé, buddy.

But first, I will tell you this:  It’s okay to be freaked out by looking for a new job.  Instability happens, especially in competitive industries such as Mobile Telecom and Pretty Much Every Business.  You don’t own your job, your desk, or your “space” until you do something that is so incredibly invaluable for the company that they wouldn’t think of letting you go.  Don’t worry, it’s just The Truth of the workplace these days.  Own your career, if not your desk-space.  Here are a few reasons to go into Consulting and Contract work.

Playing The Odds:
Not too long ago I was in a panel interview at a wireless telecom giant, and the manager mentioned that his department (IT Planning) was around 60-70% contracted workers.  You have a better chance getting placed via contract/consulting work than going through the normal methods of applying to a job via the company website.  Eventually I got past my emotional attachment to the color of my badge and designation as either Full Time or Contract.  I quit hinging the worth of my employment on whether or not I got to attend off-site rallies with full-timers.  I got to the point where finishing work well and on-time was more important than sitting in on a 90minute catered lunch with a guest speaker.  WORK TO DO.  DO WORK.  Get working, serve your project, deliver with style, get paid.  You’re among friends.

Attitude Count$:
“Serve the Project.”  I have worked with a lot of Full-Timers (FT’ers) who stand on either side of the “Innovation” fence.  That is, one particular program manager I worked for was so sharp, affable, personable, and driven that we both knew his position was a step towards a much larger body of work outside the company.  Also, I have sat in meetings where work is piling up and instead of assessing the approach and handling of the pile, the FT’ers leaned back and said “Oh well, I’m on vacation in 2 weeks anyway.”  As a consultant my main task is doing a good job for the client; meeting and exceeding their expectations.  I’m still competitive enough and have enough pride to wanna kick ass.  Even if I’m not leaping out of bed every day to gather requirements like so many daffodils, flitting about the office to facilitate Change Management, and cheering up every soul regardless of their badge color, I’m there to serve the project’s needs and be paid well for it.  So I do that, happily.

The Wide Walk Of Work:
So you have Analyst and Project Leadership experience?  Great.  In Healthcare?  Awesome.  And you think the only positions you can handle are in Healthcare?  Not necessarily.  First, embrace your niche.  Healthcare is going to be HUUUUUUUUUGE in the next 20 years.  Bet on it.  If you can see trends in technology and how they’ll mesh with your industry’s growth you are well-ahead of most folks.  Second, can you see how your experience would feed other industries?  Fresh minds are needed for any industry’s growth, or at least, stability.  Your transition from Healthcare experience to Mobile Computing may take a while, but really it breaks down to X’s and O’s; your skill + new terminology + credibility building = HIRED!  Don’t limit yourself to only your industry of experience.  I found myself in a food service company after years in wireless technology, and loved it!

Duration Variance:
You may be on a project for 2 years.  More than likely it will be less than 12 months.  I had a 5 month contract shortened to 2 because the department’s delivery strategy shifted.  It happens.  This is where being a full-timer to your company counts, and having saved that money beforehand comes in handy.  Hopefully you have a bench to work from and get paid while honing a few skills before the next job.  But if you’re somebody who likes to see things come together, launch, and repeat a few times… then you get a little antsy… this is a good road to walk.

Finances:
You often are making a greater hourly rate in contracting than you were as a FT’er.  Why?  Because you, or your firm, is charging more and it filters out a few more things like taxes.  Oh, and the company you’re at isn’t investing in your 401k or Stock Options, so you make it up in cash.  Never sell yourself short, and if you’re not ready to negotiate, go buy a book on negotiating.  Money is a trade for your service.  Try paying your mortgage with beers your pals owe you.

If you’re Independent, always get the contract in writing, and have an “early end” clause.  For example, if you sign on for 8 months at $7K/month, include a clause that says “For every week less than 32 weeks the Consultant’s services are not needed, client will be paid ½ a standard week’s pay in a single payment.”  This keeps you working at your full rate for the agreed-upon time, and if not, at least you’re not totally out the pay you could have been getting from the client or elsewhere.  If they balk, offer to lower it to 1/3rd, but don’t empty your pockets for the sake of courtesy.  You’d rather be getting paid and helping out than pounding the keyboard and interviewing for work.

And save, save, save all you can, enough for about 3 months of expenses in case you find yourself on an unexpected vacation.

Socialize:
Social interwebbing is vital to your job search.  From LinkedIn to FaceBook to Twitter, everything you put out there represents you, either as a person or a potential candidate.  What does your online presence say about you?  Are your strengths and experiences evident?  If you aren’t savvy in it yet, well, I just Googled “job search and social media” and got over 200,000,000 results.  I’ll let you know what I find in there.  Get using technology as a means to an end; it’s not just what you’re working on, it’s working on you, too.

Consulting work and Contract work are going to be prevalent for quite a while.  I doubt the forming of a Union to protect our interests, but if you are wondering who those people are that show up one day and start ruffling feathers, arranging work schedules, and presenting project plans… then are out before the holidays… that’s us.  That’s me.  We’re here to help that spear bring down bigger game.  Good hunting.

0

Helicopter Parents & GroundPatrol Kids

There are some play areas in public places that are designed for kids around ages “Crawling well-to-4’ish.”  They’re based pretty much on a height limit, usually noted by a body-part of a cartoon animal.  “If you can suckle from this giraffe, your involvement is a gaffe!”  Some-such…  and the parents for the most part aren’t really governing the situation.  There’s always a kid who’s too tall and too weird for the joint who’s probably just on his parent’s last nerve.  That’s why there’s a Lego store.

I take our oldest guy (2.5 yrs) to a few of these places every 6-8 weeks, depending on the weather and time of day.  He likes it enough to not want to leave after 30minutes, and it tires him out, builds coordination, gives him a healthy dose of interaction, etc.  Also causes me minor panic attacks.  Usually the joint’s overrun with kids, the way it oughtta be, and a packed airspace of “Helicopter Parents.”  They act as labeled – hovering within feet of their kid’s activity, constantly voice-guiding their child like a sonar ping.  “Aiden!  Don’t hang on the lighthouse parapet.  Aiden!  Not YOU, sorry, AIDEN MAXIMUS… NO, NOT YOU, GAAAH!  Maddie go get your br… sorry, MadeLINE, go get your brother.”  Even better when one kid has 2 parents and a grandparent hovering around, 1 directing while 1 captures burgeoning narcissism and the other documents flowering misanthropy on smartphone cameras.

The worst of the Heli-parents are the Heli-Sippers. Fresh into the play area with knee-high kids running around, what better way to enjoy it than with a steaming-hot, freshly made latte in-hand?  Oh, even better, stare at your phone amidst the cacophony of Figure-8 Racing that is a toddler’s play area!

Next-worse are the asshole parents of the asshole kids stuck along the perimeter, phone-thumbing their way through social media while IN A COMPLETELY CROWDED PUBLIC SPACE.  Their kid is the one on top of the foam boat, purposely but passively giving kids the kick-back while screaming “I am the CHAM-PEE-ONNN!”  Actually, Cade-aid-maximaden, you are 9 years old and need to get your ass off the boat before I engineer a slip-off.  It’s always a boy, he’s usually got red hair or a big head, and his parents haven’t had him tested to see which chromosome caused the 11th-14th toes.

Nobody ever says anything.  Ever.  I am beginning to.  I’ve told kids who push other kids “You’re not a very nice little boy, are you?”  They don’t like that.  Or “You shouldn’t push kids, or they will push you.”  Huh, what?  Responsibility?  Accountability what?  My son doesn’t touch other kids, but he is telling them now “It’s MY turn” and they move and he says “Thank you” and then won’t go down the F’ing slide and I look like my kid’s scared of everything.

I’m not perfect, soooo far from-far-from perfect.  But I am trying to teach my oldest to stay out of other kid’s faces, no pushing, and to verbalize what he’s feeling.  Ain’t easy.  Eventually a kid from another country will not like his tone and knock him down.  Then that kid’s dad will get thrown in a garbage can.  StealthFighterDad among Helicopter Parents.  I will drill you from high above in the play area. Then I will sanitize my hands with foamitizer and get a cupcake.  Because America.

Be present.  Say something. Parent, as a verb.

5

Thomas The Tank Engine; Very Useful Engine, Kind of an Asshole

There is a toddler-sized unmitigated reverence for Rev. Awdry’s Thomas The Tank Engine stories in our home.  Plenty of books.  Easily 20 lineal feet of Thomas-related branded woodwork, between the train table, table top, and $12-$20 wooden trains co-habitating the living room.  Most of these things have been gifted to us for Junior Mayor, Graham, who is OBSESSED with Thomas and all things Thomas.  His knowledge of the various trains and their personalities isn’t far off from my professional wrestling obsessions from 1981-1991.  James is his Ric Flair.  Spencer is Hulk Hogan.  Hiro is Ivan Putski.  And Thomas, the main character, is a little shit.  And now that everyone knows how important he is to our oldest son, we are nearing Thomas overload.

Thomas The Tank Engine; Punkass Twit

Sure, the guy looks innocent.  He’s blue, like between Royal and Sky.  Unthreatening in appearance, the best I can tell, he’s either gutsy or train-tarded.  Perhaps there’s no sense of responsibility or accountability to his other trains, nor to his “boss,” Sir Topham Hatt.  But let’s ease into it.

First, Sir Topham Hatt is apparently a Knight?  If you can run a rail system the way his runs itself – best I can tell, the trains ar making the Go/No-Go calls on most of their weird-ass adventures – and still receive Knighthood, the Island of Sodor is under the reign of a Monarchy rivaling the international influence malaria.  His engines should all be programmed to work.  But eventually, all of them turn to the worst of what should be HUMAN traits and then, oh yeah… discipline.  Or not.  I can’t believe we’ve gone 70 years and not a SINGLE engine was dismantled or forced to pull the open tanker of PortaPotty pumpings, just to send the other engines a message.  This Hatt character’s soft.  Top-down enabling.  Horse shit.

Here’s an example of a typical story.
Thomas is supposed to go to Brendam Docks to pick up a Special.  This means Percy and James need to take over shunting for Thomas until he gets back.  They don’t like it.  Thomas should get the Special, take it Maithwaite, then return right away.  Percy and James are now JEALOUS.  Thomas of course will just get his Special, drop it off, and chuff right on back, right?

NOPE.  Because he reasons that Percy and James have it covered, so he takes a few detours, shows off his Special, which is probably a statue of Topham’s Dowager mom or some waste of funds, then returns waaaaay late.  Meanwhile, James and Percy are in a rhythm, but angry, so they aren’t seeing the value in teamwork, camaraderie, and that self-awareness means life-awareness which means accepting that sometimes you’re not the Special one.

OH LOOK WHO IS BEING PUSHED BY A TRAIN
OH LOOK WHO IS BEING PUSHED BY A REAL TRAIN!

Thomas is still out buzzing around, getting the statue to the station late.  His dressing-down consists of being told to not let it happen again.  He hears this at least twice a week, if not daily.

So we have a narcissistic, co-dependent, sociopathic, anthropomorphic train warring away with the Diesel engines (racism?  xenophobia?), selling replicas of himself and friends for over $10 a pop.  Topham Hatt’s pimping them out, reaping the rewards.  Were Thomas a Crane Operator or Bike Messenger, nary an eye would watch, and we’d abhor his behavior.  Then, every Summer, there’s the chance to meet a train decorated as Thomas (I’m betting it’s not free) but it won’t talk, so then I gotta have THAT discussion about lies and marketing.  The weaning has begun.

 

Thomas can kiss my ass.

0

Crosswalk to Bear

Every morning’s commute comes to an end just after a brief encounter with any number of people madly crossing streets against the signals.  Within a half-mile of the parking lot are a few encampments for transient folks, a well-attended medical clinic, and a ton of stoplights, train crossings, busways, and pond-sized potholes.  Bad timing can add 15minutes to your last half mile if you hit all the lights, allowing for plenty of inter-windshield eye contact with passersby, many of whom may not actually see you there.

Once, months ago in a fine Seattle rain and 40 degrees, 2 young men crossed against the light while I sat in my car, waiting… waiting for them to slooooowly get to the other side.  One of them turned from under his hoodie and stared at me as though I was the one who elevator-farted, and he would pocket that info to keep me honest.  Instead, I rolled my window down as they got half-way across, stopped in the rain while I yelled, “Hey guys!? It’s raining like hell out there, but take your time, I’m pretty comfortable!”  The tenacity of their responding “FUCK YOU FAGGOT” belied their otherwise calm demeanor.  You know how bros joke around…

And thus…

CROSSWALK HAIKU

I see you seething

Walk slowly and glare at me

Contrasting climates

 

Against the Rules, Light

Perpendicular to Green

I shrug off your mean

 

You glower at me

Challenge my gas pedal, sir?

You clock in nowhere

 

Take your time, Spirit

Heated breath into the cold

Mad walk so slowly?

 

Empathy given

A life chosen and pushed through

Not all is my fault

 

Why glare at me, man?

Stopped, waiting, I shrug it off

Warm podcast cocoon

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