Wednesday, January 26, 2005
In the land of giants
I'm going to be in meetings all week to learn about a new machine that springboards over all existing machines in terms of speed (see: BlueGene/L). I feel as overwhelmed as I did when I was on w.f. (see: Divorce; reason for). I haven't slept more than 2 hours since I landed, but I'm not sure that's 100% because of the new subject matter.
If you're getting the feeling that college was difficult for me (see: Fear; learning new things and), you'd be correct. I see those around me in these classes who are far outside my class in terms on knowledge of the subject matter coming in.
All I can promise is that I'll try. At least there's no marriage to put at risk this time around.
"The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent my company's positions, strategies or opinions."
If you're getting the feeling that college was difficult for me (see: Fear; learning new things and), you'd be correct. I see those around me in these classes who are far outside my class in terms on knowledge of the subject matter coming in.
All I can promise is that I'll try. At least there's no marriage to put at risk this time around.
"The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent my company's positions, strategies or opinions."
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
I'm a great uncle!
Yesterday morning, 12:05 am. 8 lbs, 7 oz., 19 inches long. Welcome to the world, Adeline.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
All grown up and nowhere to go
Actually, I do have some place to go. After lunch today, I have a meeting at LLNL. A business meeting. Really. There's gonna be other grownups there and we're gonna talk about grownup work stuff.
Hard to believe that just 3 years ago, I was handing out samples of cheesecake at CostCo.
Hard to believe that just 3 years ago, I was handing out samples of cheesecake at CostCo.
Monday, January 17, 2005
When the going gets tough . . .
... the weak implode. Or that's how it would seem at work right now. I came in this bright beautiful Monday morning and went into my email as normal. An email from my customer in New York detailed some immediate concerns that they want addressed - well, immediately. I left my office to get a cup-o-coffee and was stopped in the hallway by another customer who thinks that another program isn't working right. We spent some time on his problem and I had him send me some reports to examine. I got back to my office with coffee in hand, and I had a popup message waiting for me. Apparently, another person that I'm collaborating with to create a database did (in my opinion) a rookie maneuver. For which, I had to create additional code to automate the fixing of it.
It's not starting out to be a good week. :-|
On the up side, the racks for my BlueGene came in. Can't wait to go to Minnesota. Not!
It's not starting out to be a good week. :-|
On the up side, the racks for my BlueGene came in. Can't wait to go to Minnesota. Not!
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Prose
Sorry for the prose in my last post. I was feeling poetic. I don't suppose listening to "Love Songs Till Dawn" helped my mood any either. ;-) Well, back to the ol' grind.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
The shoebox
I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. I put my hopes, my plans, my whole future into this box. It was full of memories of a recent past that held promises of a bright future. I was assured that these promises would come to pass. Nearly every week, I'd have something worthwhile to put into it. The shoebox quickly filled to an uncomfortable heaviness which gave proof of its worth. This box, this precious box, held the most ideal future I could imagine. I was very thankful for this gift - not the shoebox, but the promises it contained.
But I've neglected to mention the very small box that I kept in my heart. A very small box can't contain much, right? It certainly couldn't contain anything important in the light of the wonderful shoebox I'd filled, I thought. So, Of course I didn't want to empty the contents of the very small, but very flawed, box into the contents of this perfect shoebox. It would ruin the whole thing, I thought.
I was right, and I was so wrong. I had hoped that the very small box would eventually die of neglect. Instead, it festered.
I decided that I needed to open my very small box and expose its contents to the light. But I lacked the courage. Weekly, sometimes daily, I'd ponder the very small box. I'd wake up in the morning, and the very small box was the first thing on my mind. I'd dwell on it all day and begin any number of nervous habits as I meditated nonstop on the very small box.
The very small box was winning. The very small box was going to consume my life if I didn't open it and address its contents. At the same time, the shoebox was fading away like a distant crossroad in a rearview mirror. The contents of the shoebox seemed trite and meaningless with the heaviness of the very small boxes contents. If I was to embrace the shoebox and what its contents meant, I had to face the very small box and expose it.
Months passed quickly as I mustered courage slowly. The right opportunity. That's all I need, the right opportunity. I have to explain my very small box - I can't just open it for all to see. People won't understand. People won't understand.
But months turned into years and the shoebox that once held my dreams was now just full of envelopes with papers carefully folded inside. Drawings and clippings that seemed to protray a life that didn't exist. I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. Now, it seems I have a shoebox full of lies. A thick band of packing tape holds the corners together as the contents push at the walls trying to escape. The box that once held my dreams is now in a storage unit along with some tools, an unused bicycle and an extra dresser. It lives in an insignificant corner of my life - eclipsed by the heaviness of the very small box in my heart.
The very small box had won. Again.
With little else to loose and everything to gain, the very small box had to be opened if the heart was going to survive. Or was it going to win this final battle too?
Much thought, and prayer, and meditation was exhausted on the very small box. Finally, in tears late one night, I opened it, and it was found to be empty.
But I've neglected to mention the very small box that I kept in my heart. A very small box can't contain much, right? It certainly couldn't contain anything important in the light of the wonderful shoebox I'd filled, I thought. So, Of course I didn't want to empty the contents of the very small, but very flawed, box into the contents of this perfect shoebox. It would ruin the whole thing, I thought.
I was right, and I was so wrong. I had hoped that the very small box would eventually die of neglect. Instead, it festered.
I decided that I needed to open my very small box and expose its contents to the light. But I lacked the courage. Weekly, sometimes daily, I'd ponder the very small box. I'd wake up in the morning, and the very small box was the first thing on my mind. I'd dwell on it all day and begin any number of nervous habits as I meditated nonstop on the very small box.
The very small box was winning. The very small box was going to consume my life if I didn't open it and address its contents. At the same time, the shoebox was fading away like a distant crossroad in a rearview mirror. The contents of the shoebox seemed trite and meaningless with the heaviness of the very small boxes contents. If I was to embrace the shoebox and what its contents meant, I had to face the very small box and expose it.
Months passed quickly as I mustered courage slowly. The right opportunity. That's all I need, the right opportunity. I have to explain my very small box - I can't just open it for all to see. People won't understand. People won't understand.
But months turned into years and the shoebox that once held my dreams was now just full of envelopes with papers carefully folded inside. Drawings and clippings that seemed to protray a life that didn't exist. I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. Now, it seems I have a shoebox full of lies. A thick band of packing tape holds the corners together as the contents push at the walls trying to escape. The box that once held my dreams is now in a storage unit along with some tools, an unused bicycle and an extra dresser. It lives in an insignificant corner of my life - eclipsed by the heaviness of the very small box in my heart.
The very small box had won. Again.
With little else to loose and everything to gain, the very small box had to be opened if the heart was going to survive. Or was it going to win this final battle too?
Much thought, and prayer, and meditation was exhausted on the very small box. Finally, in tears late one night, I opened it, and it was found to be empty.
Last Wishes continued
I don't suppose I can prevent Mom from throwing a memorial service. So be it. I've decided that memorial services are a lot like graduation ceremonies. The stage walk is not for the benefit of the graduate, but for the people in the audience who supported them - either financially or emotionally.
Likewise with memorial services. They're not for the benefit of the lump of preserved meat in the box. It's for the benefit of those who knew the meat when it housed a soul.
Hmmm, perhaps I can turn a memorial service in to an alter call. What work I can't seem to do in life, I might be able to do in death.
Likewise with memorial services. They're not for the benefit of the lump of preserved meat in the box. It's for the benefit of those who knew the meat when it housed a soul.
Hmmm, perhaps I can turn a memorial service in to an alter call. What work I can't seem to do in life, I might be able to do in death.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Last Wishes
With Laura dying so young and the episode that Donna had during Christmas, I've decided to start committing to paper (well, pixels anyway) my last wishes. The way I see it, I'm not planning on being around to a ripe old age of 90 or anything. I'll be happy if I make it to 50, but my parents are sort of breaking the mold of us dying really young. I'm beginning to understand what strikes us down so young. Some of us go at the age of 38 - my age now.
At any rate, it's always better to be safe than sorry, so here I go. This will most likely be a multi-part entry all called "Last Wishes".
First of all, in case of emergency, I'm a donor. All parts - you can have them - trust me, I don't want 'em where I'm going. And don't bury whatever parts are left over. Just put them in the dumpster at the hospital with all the other body parts and abortions. Really, no casket, no burial, no grave.
Why? Simple. First, I think that funerals are a big waste of time, talent and money. Second, I don't want any lasting memory of my existence in the form of a monument (headstone). If I can't make an impression on people to carry a memory in their heads, then I probably didn't deserve to live in the first place.
If, on the other hand, you decide that my life was insignificant enough that I need a marble headrest to remind people that I was here, I ask that the epitaph read as follows:
John Colino
[birth] - [death]
An alternate Universe without him,
would be no different
At any rate, it's always better to be safe than sorry, so here I go. This will most likely be a multi-part entry all called "Last Wishes".
First of all, in case of emergency, I'm a donor. All parts - you can have them - trust me, I don't want 'em where I'm going. And don't bury whatever parts are left over. Just put them in the dumpster at the hospital with all the other body parts and abortions. Really, no casket, no burial, no grave.
Why? Simple. First, I think that funerals are a big waste of time, talent and money. Second, I don't want any lasting memory of my existence in the form of a monument (headstone). If I can't make an impression on people to carry a memory in their heads, then I probably didn't deserve to live in the first place.
If, on the other hand, you decide that my life was insignificant enough that I need a marble headrest to remind people that I was here, I ask that the epitaph read as follows:
John Colino
[birth] - [death]
An alternate Universe without him,
would be no different
Sunday, January 09, 2005
ME
No, not me, but ME, errr M.E. - as in Michele E.. Usually quiet, occasionally very odd, but always Michele. Unique. I just found this photo while cleaning up my image directory. I guess Josh must have taken it during Sam's birthday party. I saw it and couldn't resist the urge to post it. Sorry Michele.
Last night was the annual Beerings New Years Gala. I've been going to that for as many years as I can remember. I sat in the first room I ever had beer (as did most other people there). It was wierd being at the party that I historically just drink and played quarters in. Now, everyone's having babies, so the babies were in one room, and the rest of us were in the other.
The volume of the music made it difficult to carry on a conversation, and I misinterpreted a few people in some slightly embarrassing but recoverable ways. Anyway, I'll certainly be going back next year - it's a "have to" do thing.
Does anyone else have events like this that are stronger than mere family ties? I just feel like I can't stay home when this event comes around. Anywho, back to work.
Last night was the annual Beerings New Years Gala. I've been going to that for as many years as I can remember. I sat in the first room I ever had beer (as did most other people there). It was wierd being at the party that I historically just drink and played quarters in. Now, everyone's having babies, so the babies were in one room, and the rest of us were in the other.
The volume of the music made it difficult to carry on a conversation, and I misinterpreted a few people in some slightly embarrassing but recoverable ways. Anyway, I'll certainly be going back next year - it's a "have to" do thing.
Does anyone else have events like this that are stronger than mere family ties? I just feel like I can't stay home when this event comes around. Anywho, back to work.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Hawaii 2005
| SATURDAY | SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY |
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- Itinerary:
- Day 1: Land, check in, relax
- Day 2: Watch kids build sand castles on the beach
- Day 3: Look at clouds and make pictures (birds, dragons, bunnies)
- Day 4: Make Zen garden out of space around your beach towel.
Most people would think of this as a waste of a trip to Hawaii, but I couldn't have imagined it any better (short of winning the Lottery or finding a buried treasure or other likewise unreasonable request). Did I read a good book? Nope. Did I go to a Luau? Nope. Did I at least have a Mai Tai? Well, a few one night, but not much the other times. A Mai Tai around noon and another one to finish off the sunset - that was about it. Did I find a swank nightclub? Nope - didn't even look.
I spent a week on the beach with nothing but my mp3 player with Breeze FM playing, a 95 cent straw mat and my hat/sunglasses. Oh, and the most important thing of all - my thoughts. I gave a lot of things some thought, and a gave a few things a lot of thought.
Thoughts without interuption - very meditative.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Sunset
Today's sunset was wonderful. Not because of any spectacular colors, but because I was able to enjoy it at my own pace. Yesterday was interesting. I got to the beach around 9 am and lied around like a whale until around noon when I decided I needed a Mai Tai. "Ping Pong, fetch me a Mai Tai."
I was sitting at the bar minding my own buisness when Debbie from Chicago sat next to me. She's a sign language teacher. Not one to ignore a pretty face or an interesting story she had just put her boyfriend and his family on a plane back home. Since she made her own travel arrangements for this trip, her flight wasn't set to take off until 11 o'clock that night.
Well, here it was noon and we didn't have anything to do, so we drank and talked. Yadda, yadda, yadda, and I woke up this morning with a temporary tattoo on my ankle, a lei around my neck and a single serving bottle of Vodka in my pocket. Oh, and let's not forget the headache. :-)
I was a good boy, and we had a very nice time. Photos of sunset to follow.
I was sitting at the bar minding my own buisness when Debbie from Chicago sat next to me. She's a sign language teacher. Not one to ignore a pretty face or an interesting story she had just put her boyfriend and his family on a plane back home. Since she made her own travel arrangements for this trip, her flight wasn't set to take off until 11 o'clock that night.
Well, here it was noon and we didn't have anything to do, so we drank and talked. Yadda, yadda, yadda, and I woke up this morning with a temporary tattoo on my ankle, a lei around my neck and a single serving bottle of Vodka in my pocket. Oh, and let's not forget the headache. :-)
I was a good boy, and we had a very nice time. Photos of sunset to follow.
