Tag Archives: Introspective

The Right Tool for the Right Job

I had design professor in college for several different theatre courses. I have no idea what happened to him, as attempts to re-establish contact in recent years has been unsuccessful for me. What I will always remember him for, though, is a phrase that he used to toss around the scene shop: “You have to have the right tool for the right job!”

It’s a phrase that I’ve found myself repeating many times since then.

I think that we’ve always been fascinated with our tools. My father’s “man cave” was a wood shop that he kept in a separate, detached building from our home. He would retreat there to work on his various projects. I actually never understood why he didn’t sell them on a larger scale, because he could certainly have made some income with his talent. His shop, though, was loaded: saws, drills, hammers…all of the fun tools that you would expect in a shop, and not at all dissimilar from when I would be constructing sets in the scene shop. It goes without saying, I think, that when my dad had disposable income laying around for his hobby, it went to tools.

While I’m not in any way gifted at sculpting things out of wood as my father did, I need various tools with which to craft words, or write code. Whenever Karen and I have a disagreement over disposable income (including whether or not such a category exists for us on a given month), it frequently arises over my desire for a new tool: a new iPad, the most recent operating system, a new piece of software, etc. These tools consistently make my work easier and more productive, but my tastes frequently are bigger than our bank account.

The issue with tools is that, if I’m to generalize any sort of example from myself, we can often become caught up in the shiny news toys to the point of distracting ourselves from the project that we might be using them to accomplish.

Don’t tell her I said this, but I think that Karen’s reluctance to try new tools because the learning curve for them actually distracts from her productivity more than staying with an older system that she already knows, may be wise.

When I remember my dad’s wood shop, I can remember at least two or three items knocking around out there that received minimal use. I’m sure my bag of technological toys has a couple of those as well. Certainly, I’ve even loaded up our kitchen in the past with gifts for Karen’s culinary genius that have gone largely un-used.

Perhaps there’s a lot to be said for creatively finding ways to accomplish the task at hand, rather than over-equipping our arsenal of tricks with which to accomplish them. Perhaps we can accelerate our productivity to the point of being unproductive.

What do you think?

Time Passages

I hope that I can keep track of what’s important.

That is, I find myself concerned a bit as, even while things go according to plan, I become anxious about the plan sometimes. This move has been different than previous moves for me…much different. Obviously, there’s the fact that I’m now moving a family of three, which is logistically an undertaking comparable to any traveling concert production, I’m convinced. Practically, this is also the biggest move I’ve ever done in regards to distance.

Also, though, this has been the biggest move in regards to emotional repercussions. I became extremely sad at one point during the process, and it lingered for days. I’m still not entirely certain why, but it was almost like I was grieving something. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany later.

As I’ve experienced this dramatic change in place, I’ve also experienced a profound shift in perspective on permanence. That is, I’ve began to recognize that certain things that felt permanent to me are in fact hopelessly temporary, and that what is critically important is, in fact, permanent. The career that I’m changing from was unduly stressful in its own right, but I had come to regard its daily schedule with a sense of permanence because of the comfortable income that it provided. Although we lived in an apartment that, by definition, is not a permanent home, I had come to regard the little routines and patterns there with a sense of permanence that not only belies my distaste for routine, but were also a practical way of staving off the chaos. I think that part of my struggle with this move has been trying to stay on top of being a parent and writer and (once again a) student in the midst of a set of systems that no longer work and have to be re-vamped or entirely replaced. Those systems, which allowed me to keep track of what had to be done and kept mine and Karen’s sanity, though, were very, very temporary things, designed for a temporary place that served us during temporary conditions.

For years, we were in holding pattern, wondering “what next?” in our lives.

And, now that we’re moving forward at long last, I’ve had an irrational difficulty letting go of the temporary. That is, the physical has been threatening to overwhelm the spiritual. What placed this into unyielding perspective, though, was two days ago in the back yard, as I pushed our daughter in a swing. As she giggled with delight and glided to and fro, she made extended eye contact with me, all smiles, her deep eyes communicating a wealth of information.

What they told me that afternoon was, “I trust you, Daddy.”

That’s permanent. Very, very permanent. Whatever transient circumstances and events rotate through our lives, my wife and daughter, and the responsibilities that I have to them, are permanent. They are persistent. They are pervasive.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

More Moving Thoughts

Thursday of this week was the last day of the day job that I’ve held for the last five years. I experienced an odd bout of sentimentality, which really was the last thing I was expecting. I took this position five years ago when freelancing wasn’t making the ends meet, Karen and I hadn’t been married that long, and we needed my income to be more consistent. I was just beginning to stir up dreams of doing a doctoral degree or an MFA at the time, and accepted the position thinking that I would stay there for one year.

Five years, accomplished financial goals, and one daughter later, I walked out of that office on a quiet Thursday afternoon, into a parking lot that has often found me thinking “it’s Friday!!“, and drove away just as I have hundreds of other times, though now to never return. It’s a given that I will miss my colleagues, because I have been honored to work with a great team there. And, although I’m not sure I can truly say that I will miss the place, or the position itself, I found myself appreciating it in a way that I wouldn’t have had I merely stayed for the year that I had initially planned. Again, evidence that my wanderlust can occasionally be a bad thing.

I suppose that longevity has its rewards. Who knew?

Moving: A Lament

Things like packing your apartment to move your life up the East coast have a strange way of causing sentimentality. That is, the process of packing, of knowing that the apartment we’ve lived in for four years won’t be our home any longer. Of course, you know that when you move into an apartment, and it’s not like I’m feeling any sort of overwhelming separation anxiety or anything, but…

When Karen and I moved into our current apartment from the first one we rented together, I had odd moments of sentimentality. More so this time, though, because there have been some really incredible things that have happened in this one. Foremost on that list is that this is the apartment to which we brought our daughter home after the miraculous event of her birth. I think what concerns me the most about this is that she’s showing some anxiety as the familiar melts away and is replaced by ever-growing stacks of boxes in preparation for this weekend.

The last two weeks have been the process of saying goodbyes for both of us. Last week I was struck quite profoundly by the appreciation shown to me by my colleagues as they treated me to a goodbye lunch for work. The process of making arrangements to stay in touch with others (I’ve even caught myself using Facebook more frequently…and I never thought that would happen), and bidding farewell to places we frequent and to our faith community, have been a strange mix of liberating and sad for me.

Oddly, I’ve felt disconnected at times. That disconnection has made me think that, had I the opportunity to do some things over from the past four years, that I would. Karen and I made the decision to distance ourselves from the faith community that had been our home for some time because we found ourselves in a different season of life. During our previous move, we were overwhelmed with friends giving us assistance. Now, we’re working to get people to come help us. That’s quite a difference. We drifted away from the group of friends with which we were close due, in large part, to my wanderlust. I have a good case of it, and it has both served me well and brought me grief in the past.

I have images that I can recall too quickly of those that I’ve alienated because of the pressing, almost illogical need I feel at times to move on to a different place geographically. I don’t always regret moving forward, but I regret the way I’ve handled that movement with certain people. I’ve been left without people that I think would have become great friends or colleagues, and I’ve grown hopelessly distant from friends that were close at one time, but are no longer in contact with me.

I hope that I’m not so old that I can’t change that tendency. I don’t think I’ll ever change my wanderlust, and I’m honestly not certain that I want to. I can change the level of intentionality with which I approach keeping in contact with others, though, certainly now that carrying out that intention is easier than ever before.

There are things that are simultaneously exhilarating and frightening about the fact that we will live in a different state next week. I can’t wait to experience the different culture in a new way, because, although we’ve frequently visited the area to which we’re moving and I already know it well, I’ve never lived there, and that is a much more intimate knowledge of a place. Changes in place are a welcome, wonderful thing for me. I hope that it is for my family, also.

And I hope that I manage to stay in touch with the friends we leave in this place, as well.

Boston, Here We Come

In the interest of keeping in check with the goals that I set in my obligatory New Year’s goals post, I am  about to make a carefully calculated, really big, and more-than-a-little scary dive into changing careers for my day job. I’ve made my living in various aspects of behavioral health for the last eleven years, with some writing and other projects thrown in to keep life interesting. While I’ve worked very hard to incorporate creative elements (mostly theatre) into my work, I need something that will allow me to be more creative during the day, in order to keep the creative juices flowing at night for my writing. Also, health care is becoming a difficult arena to navigate, and I’m essentially being forced out slowly due to credentialing requirements with which I no longer have the motivation to keep in step.

So, the career change is about to happen, by way of a few months of very specific skill training. I’m about to turn my geek-self from being a hobby to being a living in the realm of web development. In order to acquire that training, we’re re-locating to the Boston area next month.

This is exciting and scary, because the financial investment is not a small one, but Karen and I both love Boston. This will be a good move, I’m convinced, and now the proverbial cat is out of the bag and I can stop dropping cryptic hints in my posts.

I don’t plan for this to change the topics that I write about here, except that I will now have a whole new spectrum of inspiration from which to draw.

So, the next few months are going to be really interesting! The next phase in the adventure begins in August!