When I started this blog 4 years ago, it was intended to update friends and family on the details of my life as a law student. As time went on, the blog adapted, becoming part movie geek/nerd site and part storytelling site recounting my various adventures around Chicago. As time has progressed, I have suffered a certain loss of anonymity. I did not mind it, as most of the people who read my blog were friends of mine. At the same time, this lack of anonymity has kept me from sometimes opening up about my innermost thoughts and feelings.
During the last month, I have been absent from the blogsphere as I dealt with life as an attorney, a civil litigator in the field of intellectual property law. As my free time reduced itself by leaps and bounds, I noticed that I had to give up many of the things that I enjoy (some tv, video games, etc). At the same time, I realized that the blog could not serve its purpose as a web diary, for there were numerous times where I found myself editing my content for fear of hurting the people who might be reading. The problem, then, was that I was not being honest with myself, and I am a person who values trust over all else. Remember: "to thine own self be true."
I have a new blog site for myself. It is open to all (if you can find it), but I intend to keep this one a secret. I still will welcome anonymous feedback, but this is something I need to do for myself.
The funny thing is that I had written a very long and detailed account of my week at San Diego's ComicCon International show, but sometimes things pop in one's personal life that make one reflect on the bigger picture. I need to focus on that picture and get some of my thoughts recorded in anonymity. I started today, and it has been quite cathartic. I have a long way to go, however.
So thank you, dear readers, for keeping up with me. You were the reason I persevered. Maybe you will find me again.
In the meantime, read The Namby Pamby.
Sincerely
the Artful Blogger
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
In Honor of 40 Years Ago Today...
This is a short update, but I wanted to share with you what was REALLY going through everyone's mind when Neil Armstrong took his famous "leap" 40 years ago today.
Click on the photo to embiggen and read the article. You will laugh. Trust me.
Monday, July 13, 2009
A Brief Respite
Sorry for the brevity of the post, but I just wanted to announce the fact that I am, indeed, still alive. After months of dutifully updating my blog on a weekly basis, I have fallen off the wagon. However, I intend to rectify the situation this week. There is a lot of ground to cover, but as I am at work and have a full day ahead of me, that ground will have to wait until later tonight.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Artful Dad
He was born in Kerala but moved to Kolkota at a very young age. His childhood was spent running with his friends along the shores of the Bay of Bengal, skipping rocks on the water and watching the people all around him. In his memories, those are some of the happiest. Shortly thereafter, due to his parents' desire to travel "unfettered and free", he and his older sister were shuttled from relative to relative for the rest of his childhood. These relatives never treated him as part of the family; even minor infractions were met with severe corporal punishment. At heart, he was a sweet and gentle soul. Such treatment at the hands of people who are supposed to love you might have stomped out such a characteristic from most boys, but he took them as lessons on how not to treat people. His family was poor yet descended from the line of a minor king. Many of his relatives were wealthy and chose to flaunt that wealth in the face of the poor little boy who did not even have parents who wanted him around. He formed some friendships among his schoolmates, but every time he formed such friendships, he was shipped off to yet another relative.
He yearned for real affection, but as a result of his childhood, he became a bit of a loner. His parents reentered his life as a teenager, and he set about trying to please them as much as he could, playing the part of a dutiful son in an effort to earn their love (something that a son should NEVER have to do). He wanted to be an engineer, but his mother told him that his future lay in medicine. He dutifully followed his mother's wish and enrolled in medical school, earning medals for excellence. After completing his medical school education, the time came for placement in a residency program. Rather than paying a bribe that would ensure that he received a very cushy assignment at a top teaching hospital, he refused and was sent to a remote mountaintop village. He learned to love his life there, as the villagers were appreciative of his presence, and he was able to form friendships with many of them. Upon being accepted to a master's in surgery program, his father sent for him and told him that it was time for him to be married. He did not want to be married and told his father this, but his father told him that dutiful sons listen to their elders. He acquiesced.
Now, arranged marriages in India vary from region to region. In his home state, eligible bachelors were brought by their parents or other "head of the family" to the home of the parents of the prospective bride. The BRIDE would say whether or not she liked the groom, and that was that. On one occasion, the young man was taken by his uncle to the home of a prominent lawyer. The lawyer's daughter was completing her own medical education and was of marrying age. The young man was not interested and told his uncle that he had no intention of marrying a physician. The uncle did not want to insult the lawyer and insisted that his nephew accompany him to the house. When they arrived, the lawyer's daughter took notice of the shy, quiet and intelligent young man and noticed his gentle manner. She fell for him at that moment. Unfortunately. the reverse did not seem to be the case. Her father told her that the young man had no intention of ever marrying a doctor. She grew sad, but she would not allow this to get her down. Over the next year, the young man made several visits to her home to visit with her father, her cousin (another woman who was of marrying age), and her. The young man spent a lot of time talking to the cousin, and the young woman figured that that would be a match. Her father insisted that she get married soon, and she told him that if she could not have the young man, she did not care WHO she married. Her father set up a match with an engineer.
One night, the woman was working on her clinical rounds and was told that a "Dr. Artful" was on the phone for her. She was puzzled but took the call.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hi," the young man said. "Someone told me you were getting married."
"Yes," she replied. "to an engineer."
"But I thought that WE were going to, " he responded.
"Going to what?" she asked, still very confused.
"aaah...ummm.." the young man hemmed and hawed. " I thought that we were going to marry each other."
Her heart stopped. WHAT? The arrangements had already been made with the other family! And yet, the man of her dreams was back into it. She did the only thing that was logical. She fussed at him.
"You have been visiting our home for a year and never said anything!" she said.
"I know," he replied. "I was getting to know you. You were yourself when you were not trying to catch my eye, and I wanted to get to know the real you."
"But you said you never wanted to marry a doctor!" she countered. "I will NOT give up my career to marry you. You know that, right?"
"You are the exception to the rule-in so many ways. I did not want to marry a doctor, but you changed my mind. I only want to marry you." he said.
"You picked a fine time to say this! The arrangements have already been made!"
"What do I do?" he asked.
"Let me talk to my daddy," she replied. "We will be getting married. I will see to it. In the meantime, let your family know of this."
She immediately called her father, and after much melodrama and threats of suicide, her father acquiesced to his daughter's wishes.
And the young man? What was it about this woman who turned his head? He had been a loner up until this point, never seeking out or receiving honest affection. What he saw in her eyes was a kind soul, someone who he could see being by his side for years to come. He saw someone who would love him unconditionally and saw his children in her face. After a lifetime of denying that he wanted affection and desired the happiness that comes with finding one's soulmate, he could not deny his own feelings.
They were married and moved to the United States, leaving behind his family that never wanted him and the life that gave him so much unhappiness. He became a successful physician and an amazing husband and father. To this day, he is a kind, gentle, and affectionate soul who is all about giving hugs, smiling and laughing when his wife and two boys are around.
Last night, Grace and I attended an AMAZING performance of "Fiddler on the Roof", starring Chaim Topol as Tevye, the role he made famous first in London's West End and then in the Academy Award-winning film version. It also happens to be the favorite musical of the Artful Dad. As I watched Tevye sing "If I were a Rich Man", I saw Dad chafing at the teasing of his rich cousins and being made to feel insignificant. When Tzeitel begged her father to break off the match with Lazar Wolf, I saw the Artful Mom doing the same thing when the Dad made his affection for her known. And, most poignant for me, was the performance of "Do You Love Me" by Tevye and his wife Golda. You see, my parents still sometimes gently sing this to each other even after 43 years of marriage.
This morning, on Father's Day, I called to regale him with stories about how wonderful the musical was and how much I missed him. He asked a lot of questions about it (Did he tell the joke about the chicken? Did they have horses on the stage? How did they do the train station? How did Topol look?) and he was as excited as I was. At the end of our conversation, I told him how much I wished he had been there to watch it with me. He grew quiet, and I could almost see the smile on his face as he whispered into the phone "me too."
It is so hard to believe that I have such an amazingly loving father when I consider the lack of love he received as a child. I am glad that he had the fortitude to persevere through his hard childhood and not let that change the fundamentally wonderful person he is inside. Whenever someone tells me how much I remind them of my Dad, I take it as the highest compliment one could give me. You see, if I become 1/10 of the man my father is, I would consider myself to have lived a successful life.
Happy Father's Day, Artful Dad.
He yearned for real affection, but as a result of his childhood, he became a bit of a loner. His parents reentered his life as a teenager, and he set about trying to please them as much as he could, playing the part of a dutiful son in an effort to earn their love (something that a son should NEVER have to do). He wanted to be an engineer, but his mother told him that his future lay in medicine. He dutifully followed his mother's wish and enrolled in medical school, earning medals for excellence. After completing his medical school education, the time came for placement in a residency program. Rather than paying a bribe that would ensure that he received a very cushy assignment at a top teaching hospital, he refused and was sent to a remote mountaintop village. He learned to love his life there, as the villagers were appreciative of his presence, and he was able to form friendships with many of them. Upon being accepted to a master's in surgery program, his father sent for him and told him that it was time for him to be married. He did not want to be married and told his father this, but his father told him that dutiful sons listen to their elders. He acquiesced.
Now, arranged marriages in India vary from region to region. In his home state, eligible bachelors were brought by their parents or other "head of the family" to the home of the parents of the prospective bride. The BRIDE would say whether or not she liked the groom, and that was that. On one occasion, the young man was taken by his uncle to the home of a prominent lawyer. The lawyer's daughter was completing her own medical education and was of marrying age. The young man was not interested and told his uncle that he had no intention of marrying a physician. The uncle did not want to insult the lawyer and insisted that his nephew accompany him to the house. When they arrived, the lawyer's daughter took notice of the shy, quiet and intelligent young man and noticed his gentle manner. She fell for him at that moment. Unfortunately. the reverse did not seem to be the case. Her father told her that the young man had no intention of ever marrying a doctor. She grew sad, but she would not allow this to get her down. Over the next year, the young man made several visits to her home to visit with her father, her cousin (another woman who was of marrying age), and her. The young man spent a lot of time talking to the cousin, and the young woman figured that that would be a match. Her father insisted that she get married soon, and she told him that if she could not have the young man, she did not care WHO she married. Her father set up a match with an engineer.
One night, the woman was working on her clinical rounds and was told that a "Dr. Artful" was on the phone for her. She was puzzled but took the call.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hi," the young man said. "Someone told me you were getting married."
"Yes," she replied. "to an engineer."
"But I thought that WE were going to, " he responded.
"Going to what?" she asked, still very confused.
"aaah...ummm.." the young man hemmed and hawed. " I thought that we were going to marry each other."
Her heart stopped. WHAT? The arrangements had already been made with the other family! And yet, the man of her dreams was back into it. She did the only thing that was logical. She fussed at him.
"You have been visiting our home for a year and never said anything!" she said.
"I know," he replied. "I was getting to know you. You were yourself when you were not trying to catch my eye, and I wanted to get to know the real you."
"But you said you never wanted to marry a doctor!" she countered. "I will NOT give up my career to marry you. You know that, right?"
"You are the exception to the rule-in so many ways. I did not want to marry a doctor, but you changed my mind. I only want to marry you." he said.
"You picked a fine time to say this! The arrangements have already been made!"
"What do I do?" he asked.
"Let me talk to my daddy," she replied. "We will be getting married. I will see to it. In the meantime, let your family know of this."
She immediately called her father, and after much melodrama and threats of suicide, her father acquiesced to his daughter's wishes.
And the young man? What was it about this woman who turned his head? He had been a loner up until this point, never seeking out or receiving honest affection. What he saw in her eyes was a kind soul, someone who he could see being by his side for years to come. He saw someone who would love him unconditionally and saw his children in her face. After a lifetime of denying that he wanted affection and desired the happiness that comes with finding one's soulmate, he could not deny his own feelings.
They were married and moved to the United States, leaving behind his family that never wanted him and the life that gave him so much unhappiness. He became a successful physician and an amazing husband and father. To this day, he is a kind, gentle, and affectionate soul who is all about giving hugs, smiling and laughing when his wife and two boys are around.
Last night, Grace and I attended an AMAZING performance of "Fiddler on the Roof", starring Chaim Topol as Tevye, the role he made famous first in London's West End and then in the Academy Award-winning film version. It also happens to be the favorite musical of the Artful Dad. As I watched Tevye sing "If I were a Rich Man", I saw Dad chafing at the teasing of his rich cousins and being made to feel insignificant. When Tzeitel begged her father to break off the match with Lazar Wolf, I saw the Artful Mom doing the same thing when the Dad made his affection for her known. And, most poignant for me, was the performance of "Do You Love Me" by Tevye and his wife Golda. You see, my parents still sometimes gently sing this to each other even after 43 years of marriage.
This morning, on Father's Day, I called to regale him with stories about how wonderful the musical was and how much I missed him. He asked a lot of questions about it (Did he tell the joke about the chicken? Did they have horses on the stage? How did they do the train station? How did Topol look?) and he was as excited as I was. At the end of our conversation, I told him how much I wished he had been there to watch it with me. He grew quiet, and I could almost see the smile on his face as he whispered into the phone "me too."
It is so hard to believe that I have such an amazingly loving father when I consider the lack of love he received as a child. I am glad that he had the fortitude to persevere through his hard childhood and not let that change the fundamentally wonderful person he is inside. Whenever someone tells me how much I remind them of my Dad, I take it as the highest compliment one could give me. You see, if I become 1/10 of the man my father is, I would consider myself to have lived a successful life.
Happy Father's Day, Artful Dad.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Second Post Today: Strange Search Term that Brought Someone to My Site
OK, so one of my favorite posts was the one about my Mom. It turns out to be a popular post, as I have noticed on my tracking meter that quite a few people have read it.
So today, I was looking at the visitor stats and found that someone from India had clicked onto the story.
Awww, I thought to myself. Maybe someone has a similar story concerning their mother as well. That is awesome.
...until I discovered the google search terms that led them to my site:
"Only Stories that Indian Mom Became Pregnant by Her Own Son."
WHO THE HECK WOULD ENTER A SEARCH STRING LIKE THIS???? That was NOT what my story was about, but apparently it turns up in Google search because it has the words Indian, Mom, pregnant, and son as part of the overall story.
There are some deranged people out on the interwebs...
So today, I was looking at the visitor stats and found that someone from India had clicked onto the story.
Awww, I thought to myself. Maybe someone has a similar story concerning their mother as well. That is awesome.
...until I discovered the google search terms that led them to my site:
"Only Stories that Indian Mom Became Pregnant by Her Own Son."
WHO THE HECK WOULD ENTER A SEARCH STRING LIKE THIS???? That was NOT what my story was about, but apparently it turns up in Google search because it has the words Indian, Mom, pregnant, and son as part of the overall story.
There are some deranged people out on the interwebs...
And All I Wanted Was a Free Movie...
I love movies. I watch them, I analyze them, and I (subjectively) criticize them. Those of you who have been reading my site for a while know that my love for movies is great. For example, even during the summer of the bar (also known as last summer), I made it a point to see every single big summer release leading up to and including "The Dark Knight" in IMAX (ONE WEEK before the bar).
I can pretty much deconstruct my love of movies into two categories: 1) Great Spectacle and 2) Artistic Filmmaking. In fact, just by knowing the name of the director, I can usually discern which of the two categories a particular film might fall into. Michael Bay, the "auteur" of "Transformers"? Spectacle. I am only going to see "Transformers 2" for a chance to see an IMAX-sized Megan Fox...er...
Obviously, I am a fan of the Mann. Last summer, I was excited to find that Mann was location shooting his next film here in Chicago, a film called "Public Enemies". It was the story of John Dillinger and the cop who tracked him down. Think "Heat" but in the Roaring 20s. Johnny Depp stars as John Dillinger and Christian Bale as the cop trying to stop him. Great stuff.
So this brings me to last Saturday. I was visiting a movie website that I frequent, and I noticed a contest for an advanced screening of "Public Enemies". The film is due to be released on July 1, but I could not pass up an opportunity to see the film...for FREE...2 weeks before that. I entered the contest. The contest required the entrant to write a 75 word paragraph describing their favorite movie gangster. This is what I wrote:
Favorite Movie Gangster: Sung Tse-Ho as played by Ti Lung in John Woo's "A Better Tomorrow"
Reason: Ho was my introduction to the antihero archetype of John Woo's HK gangster films. The character grows tremendously throughout the course of the first 2 "A Better Tomorrow" films and shows human traits of loyalty, remorse, and anger that lead to bloodly retribution when those close to him are threatened or killed. This showing of humanity in a gangster's guise allowed me to sympathize with the bad guys and root for Ho and Mark's success.
I won the tickets, and I was excited. And then I learned something else. Both Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are scheduled to attend the screening (what with it being the Chicago premiere and all). And, more important to me, is the fact that the Mann himself will be there. So while my friends squeal about Johnny Depp being in town, I am more excited by the chance to meet this most talented filmmaker.
And to think-when I entered the contest, all I wanted was a free movie...
I can pretty much deconstruct my love of movies into two categories: 1) Great Spectacle and 2) Artistic Filmmaking. In fact, just by knowing the name of the director, I can usually discern which of the two categories a particular film might fall into. Michael Bay, the "auteur" of "Transformers"? Spectacle. I am only going to see "Transformers 2" for a chance to see an IMAX-sized Megan Fox...er...
Obviously, I am a fan of the Mann. Last summer, I was excited to find that Mann was location shooting his next film here in Chicago, a film called "Public Enemies". It was the story of John Dillinger and the cop who tracked him down. Think "Heat" but in the Roaring 20s. Johnny Depp stars as John Dillinger and Christian Bale as the cop trying to stop him. Great stuff.
So this brings me to last Saturday. I was visiting a movie website that I frequent, and I noticed a contest for an advanced screening of "Public Enemies". The film is due to be released on July 1, but I could not pass up an opportunity to see the film...for FREE...2 weeks before that. I entered the contest. The contest required the entrant to write a 75 word paragraph describing their favorite movie gangster. This is what I wrote:
Favorite Movie Gangster: Sung Tse-Ho as played by Ti Lung in John Woo's "A Better Tomorrow"
Reason: Ho was my introduction to the antihero archetype of John Woo's HK gangster films. The character grows tremendously throughout the course of the first 2 "A Better Tomorrow" films and shows human traits of loyalty, remorse, and anger that lead to bloodly retribution when those close to him are threatened or killed. This showing of humanity in a gangster's guise allowed me to sympathize with the bad guys and root for Ho and Mark's success.
I won the tickets, and I was excited. And then I learned something else. Both Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are scheduled to attend the screening (what with it being the Chicago premiere and all). And, more important to me, is the fact that the Mann himself will be there. So while my friends squeal about Johnny Depp being in town, I am more excited by the chance to meet this most talented filmmaker.
And to think-when I entered the contest, all I wanted was a free movie...
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Struggle for Hours
The billable hour is the bane of the existence of most civil attorneys. In order to HONESTLY bill the requisite 8.5 hours per day, an attorney usually must work 10-12 hours per day. Now, as one gets more efficient in one's work, the number of total hours that needs to be worked decreases until one can almost work an 8.5 hour day and bill for 8.5 hours. Until that point, however, younger lawyers (especially first years such as myself) struggle to to work diligently on projects while taking care to bill clients ONLY for hours that have been put into their specific projects. Of course, I am not going to knock the amount of hours that I have to work (well, not much). My firm compensates me quite well for my work. However, when I think of the actual amount of money that I get paid in relation to the salary that I am paid, the benefits appear to be less and less. There have been too many canceled plans with friends and loved ones and more than my share of working weekends.
I have reached the halfway point of my first year as an attorney (well, billable year, anyway). My firm's requirements for hours are 2000 billable hours (not too bad in a world where 2300-2800 per year is not unheard of, especially in the current economic climate). Today, I realized that my current workload is extremely light. I was worried. Though I know that, with the oncoming deluge of litigation I would again be busy, what was I going to do in the meantime? How would I make my hours? It was this fear that prompted me to tabulate the hours I have worked thus far. The result? So far, in 6 months, I have worked 1100 hours (billable).
Sweet.
What that means is that I am 100 hours ahead of pace. That equates to TWO WEEKS OF VACATION?
Yeah, I am done sweating my light workload for the rest of the week.
Namby, break out the 20 year old Macallan...
UPDATE:
A meeting today with the partner in charge of a big case (one that will engage me for years to come) pulled the trigger on a lot of activity. My chances of me billing my minimum hours TWO MONTHS IN ADVANCE just went way up. This will teach me to complain and worry about hours....
I have reached the halfway point of my first year as an attorney (well, billable year, anyway). My firm's requirements for hours are 2000 billable hours (not too bad in a world where 2300-2800 per year is not unheard of, especially in the current economic climate). Today, I realized that my current workload is extremely light. I was worried. Though I know that, with the oncoming deluge of litigation I would again be busy, what was I going to do in the meantime? How would I make my hours? It was this fear that prompted me to tabulate the hours I have worked thus far. The result? So far, in 6 months, I have worked 1100 hours (billable).
Sweet.
What that means is that I am 100 hours ahead of pace. That equates to TWO WEEKS OF VACATION?
Yeah, I am done sweating my light workload for the rest of the week.
Namby, break out the 20 year old Macallan...
UPDATE:
A meeting today with the partner in charge of a big case (one that will engage me for years to come) pulled the trigger on a lot of activity. My chances of me billing my minimum hours TWO MONTHS IN ADVANCE just went way up. This will teach me to complain and worry about hours....
Monday, June 08, 2009
Stolen Lines #5
Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?*
What a silly question-of course I had. It all started with my distrust of friends. With as many friends and acquaintances that I have now, it is hard to believe, but at one point, I trusted no one. The story is an old one-one of betrayal that, even now, some 22 years after it all happened, I still have problems writing about it. I had a best friend in school. We were both awkward kids trying to find our own way, but he and his family were always kind to me. They invited me to evenings a the local dinner theater and the various fish fries that would occur. We became very good friends. He was my first and closest buddy. I never flinched telling him about my worries, hopes and dreams. We talked about girls and the ones we were interested in. We talked about school and the changes that would occur once we were in the real world. We also talked about college and how we would still be best friends. Both of us were part of the gifted program in high school. We were in all of the accelerated courses together and, through most of high school, we were in academic competition with one another. I suppose it was that competition that proved to be too much for him.
I still remember the day of the betrayal. I was summoned to the principal's office. Apparently, someone had witnessed me cheating on a Government test. Really? I thought. That was odd. Government was one of my best classes. Why would someone think that I cheated? Nevertheless, the accusation was enough to put me on trial in front of the Honor Council. I was nervous-this was kind of surreal. At the trial, I was sure that I would be acquitted-I mean there was no evidence! This was too much.
And then my best friend showed up and told everyone there that he saw me change the answers on a test after it had been turned in. I was in shock. That had never happened. Yet, he was there bearing false witness. This was completely out of left field. I felt short of breath-my shirt felt tight around my chest. Just the other day, we had been making plans for after a running meet. Why was he doing this?
Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?
At that point, I realized that I could trust no one. I would spend the rest of my life alone and would drive people away just so I would not have to live through a betrayal like this ever again. I had my revenge, of sorts. All of this happened during my 10th grade year. I went back to school as an 11th grader, and though I had been acquitted, whispers followed me around school.
"Artful is a cheater...no wonder he does so well on tests...the teachers should watch him...I mean, his OWN BEST FRIEND knows...cheater..."
Those were some of my darkest days. I had no one in my corner. I remember being depressed and I remember the emptiness of my school existence. I just put my shoulder to the grindstone and soldiered on. I did pretty well that year, and eventually the whispers died down. My former friend had taken all of our mutual friends with him, and I was left alone.
And then a funny thing happened-the first day back for my senior year, I was notified that I was one of two National Merit Finalists from our school. There was no cheating one's way to THAT! I also started taping the high school football games, and as payment, the principal gave me the BEST PARKING SPOT IN SCHOOL-a visitor's space right in front of the building. Fall gave way to spring, and I found that I had been accepted to all five of the schools that I had applied to. I was being invited to some of the football parties. I was letting people get to know a version of me...but not the real me...for as people were extolling my virtues and letting me know how glad they were to finally get to know me, I knew that they were not learning about the real me. At the same time, I took a small measure of pleasure in the fact that I was in the "in crowd" while my former friend was on the outside looking in. At the same time, this was all just superficial. I was counting the days until I could escape to college.
The first semester of college, I stuck to my guns and tried to maintain my independence. I was not a nice person...no...scratch that...I was an ASSHOLE. I now recognize it for what it was-a defense mechanism designed to drive people away from me and keep myself safe from getting hurt. It seemed to work pretty well. I never saw my actions as those of an asshole, but in retrospect, I cringe over some of the things that I said and did. The night that it all changed is something that is etched in my memory. I was in bed while others in my suite in the dorm were outside my room. They did not know I was in the suite. I could hear them talking...and the conversation turned to me and what a jerk I was. I started. That was never my intention-I never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings; I just wanted to be left alone. When my roommate came in, he was shocked to find that I was there the whole time. I felt horrible, but I told him that it was not nice that people said things behind my back. He asked me what did I expect? I had reached the point where my reputation at school was in danger of being permanent. He then asked me...
Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?
I started. The problem was not with my former best friend-it was with ME. He will always have his shallow pathetic life, but that is no reason for me to have the SAME! My roommate (now one of my lifelong friends) and I spent the better part of the rest of the night talking. The next day, I took the step of finding everyone in my dorm suite and personally apologizing for my attitude and word of the previous six months. I knew that one apology would likely not be enough, and I intended that my actions would speak louder than my words. It took some time, but by the time my college years ended, I had made great strides and enjoyed many friendships. Since then, I have made a lot of friends, and the people who know me can attest to the fact that I am always ready with a smile on my face, a hug, and, where needed, a good glass of wine and a sofa for conversation.
Still...sometimes my mind goes back to the events of high school and the patience that my college roommate showed in giving me another chance. Where would I be had he not done that? Likely, I would be alone and would not have the blessings of so many friends and acquaintances who care about me. I made a conscious effort to change everything that night, and though it is hard sometimes, I still make an effort to be open and honest with the people that I meet. Of course, I always run the risk of getting hurt, but without risk, there could be no reward-and the rewards have vastly outweighed the hurt over the years.
*I stole the first line of this post from the play, Betrayal, by Harold Pinter as part of Grace's Stolen Lines series of blog posts.
What a silly question-of course I had. It all started with my distrust of friends. With as many friends and acquaintances that I have now, it is hard to believe, but at one point, I trusted no one. The story is an old one-one of betrayal that, even now, some 22 years after it all happened, I still have problems writing about it. I had a best friend in school. We were both awkward kids trying to find our own way, but he and his family were always kind to me. They invited me to evenings a the local dinner theater and the various fish fries that would occur. We became very good friends. He was my first and closest buddy. I never flinched telling him about my worries, hopes and dreams. We talked about girls and the ones we were interested in. We talked about school and the changes that would occur once we were in the real world. We also talked about college and how we would still be best friends. Both of us were part of the gifted program in high school. We were in all of the accelerated courses together and, through most of high school, we were in academic competition with one another. I suppose it was that competition that proved to be too much for him.
I still remember the day of the betrayal. I was summoned to the principal's office. Apparently, someone had witnessed me cheating on a Government test. Really? I thought. That was odd. Government was one of my best classes. Why would someone think that I cheated? Nevertheless, the accusation was enough to put me on trial in front of the Honor Council. I was nervous-this was kind of surreal. At the trial, I was sure that I would be acquitted-I mean there was no evidence! This was too much.
And then my best friend showed up and told everyone there that he saw me change the answers on a test after it had been turned in. I was in shock. That had never happened. Yet, he was there bearing false witness. This was completely out of left field. I felt short of breath-my shirt felt tight around my chest. Just the other day, we had been making plans for after a running meet. Why was he doing this?
Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?
At that point, I realized that I could trust no one. I would spend the rest of my life alone and would drive people away just so I would not have to live through a betrayal like this ever again. I had my revenge, of sorts. All of this happened during my 10th grade year. I went back to school as an 11th grader, and though I had been acquitted, whispers followed me around school.
"Artful is a cheater...no wonder he does so well on tests...the teachers should watch him...I mean, his OWN BEST FRIEND knows...cheater..."
Those were some of my darkest days. I had no one in my corner. I remember being depressed and I remember the emptiness of my school existence. I just put my shoulder to the grindstone and soldiered on. I did pretty well that year, and eventually the whispers died down. My former friend had taken all of our mutual friends with him, and I was left alone.
And then a funny thing happened-the first day back for my senior year, I was notified that I was one of two National Merit Finalists from our school. There was no cheating one's way to THAT! I also started taping the high school football games, and as payment, the principal gave me the BEST PARKING SPOT IN SCHOOL-a visitor's space right in front of the building. Fall gave way to spring, and I found that I had been accepted to all five of the schools that I had applied to. I was being invited to some of the football parties. I was letting people get to know a version of me...but not the real me...for as people were extolling my virtues and letting me know how glad they were to finally get to know me, I knew that they were not learning about the real me. At the same time, I took a small measure of pleasure in the fact that I was in the "in crowd" while my former friend was on the outside looking in. At the same time, this was all just superficial. I was counting the days until I could escape to college.
The first semester of college, I stuck to my guns and tried to maintain my independence. I was not a nice person...no...scratch that...I was an ASSHOLE. I now recognize it for what it was-a defense mechanism designed to drive people away from me and keep myself safe from getting hurt. It seemed to work pretty well. I never saw my actions as those of an asshole, but in retrospect, I cringe over some of the things that I said and did. The night that it all changed is something that is etched in my memory. I was in bed while others in my suite in the dorm were outside my room. They did not know I was in the suite. I could hear them talking...and the conversation turned to me and what a jerk I was. I started. That was never my intention-I never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings; I just wanted to be left alone. When my roommate came in, he was shocked to find that I was there the whole time. I felt horrible, but I told him that it was not nice that people said things behind my back. He asked me what did I expect? I had reached the point where my reputation at school was in danger of being permanent. He then asked me...
Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?
I started. The problem was not with my former best friend-it was with ME. He will always have his shallow pathetic life, but that is no reason for me to have the SAME! My roommate (now one of my lifelong friends) and I spent the better part of the rest of the night talking. The next day, I took the step of finding everyone in my dorm suite and personally apologizing for my attitude and word of the previous six months. I knew that one apology would likely not be enough, and I intended that my actions would speak louder than my words. It took some time, but by the time my college years ended, I had made great strides and enjoyed many friendships. Since then, I have made a lot of friends, and the people who know me can attest to the fact that I am always ready with a smile on my face, a hug, and, where needed, a good glass of wine and a sofa for conversation.
Still...sometimes my mind goes back to the events of high school and the patience that my college roommate showed in giving me another chance. Where would I be had he not done that? Likely, I would be alone and would not have the blessings of so many friends and acquaintances who care about me. I made a conscious effort to change everything that night, and though it is hard sometimes, I still make an effort to be open and honest with the people that I meet. Of course, I always run the risk of getting hurt, but without risk, there could be no reward-and the rewards have vastly outweighed the hurt over the years.
*I stole the first line of this post from the play, Betrayal, by Harold Pinter as part of Grace's Stolen Lines series of blog posts.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Notes from Happy Hour at the Artful Blogger's Bachelor Pad
Date: 06/04/09
Attendees: the Alleged Lady and the Namby Pamby (and two others). Daisy and the Esquirer were ensconced watching their beloved Red Wings lose to the awesome Penguins (heh heh) and Grace was otherwise occupied, so it was just the four of us.
Fun notes:
1) Namby was exhausted from his adventures of the previous evening (read no sleep for Namby). He and the Lady arrived at the same time, and they immediately wanted to see my new Denny Crane chairs. What are those, you may ask? Well, in the television show "Boston Legal", the characters Alan Shore and Denny Crane would close out each show sitting in amazing Italian plastic patio chairs that looked like easy chairs, smoking cigars and drinking Scotch. Yes, I purchased my own pair of these chairs for my balcony. After looking at (and experiencing) the chairs, Namby went inside to make himself a drink, and the Lady called for him to make one for her as well. Namby proceeded to make a dirty vodka on the rocks (Belvedere + olive juice) for the Lady-or so he thought. He was adding Bombay Sapphire gin to a martini shaker, and I asked him what he was doing? "Oh, making the Lady's drink", he proclaimed. "The Lady asked for Vodka, Namby", I replied. Namby looked at me quizzically and then nodded. He corrected himself and decided to make a gin and tonic for himself. At this point, one might assume that he simply poured the gin from the martini shaker into a glass and added tonic. One would be wrong. Namby proceeded to add tonic water to the shaker and SHAKE IT UP (cue song from the Cars).
Tonic water, as Namby soon realized, is carbonated. Cue gin and tonic carbonation explosion all over my living room.
Yes, the suave, debonair Namby Pamby was COMPLETELY out of it yesterday.
2) I put out an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and nuts. I tend to go overboard on my cheese trays, and I have a fondness for softer cheeses and some firmer Goudas. As my guests were remarking on the wonderful textures and flavors, the Lady offered this bon mot:
"I only really like them when they are REALLY HARD AND REALLY SMELLY."
Namby and I snorted (after all, at heart, we both have the sense of humor of 12 year olds).
"That's what she said."
3) Because he lives in the burbs, Namby has taken to occasionally crashing in my guest room. Unfortunately, on those occasions, he has failed to bring changes of clothes and...ah...undergarments. This has led to at least one occasion with Namby asking to borrow my underwear.
Yeah.
Anyway, on this occasion, I told Namby to remember a change of clothes for the next day. Namby showed up with a new shirt, a fresh box of underwear, and fresh socks. Because he left early enough to catch a train, he did not need them, but he proposed leaving the items at my place for future nights in town. So now-Namby has a drawer in a dresser in my guest room. I think that I feel a little uncomfortable with that. The Lady, of course, found this all hysterical.
4) The Lady kicks butt on the drums (when she does not drop the sticks), guitar, AND the microphone on Rock Band. Namby, on the other hand, made an admirable effort but was coordinationally challenged with the instruments (although, to his credit, this was his first time playing the game's instruments). Namby does, however, know how to belt out a tune.
5) Near the end of the evening, Namby proposes watching the film Iron Man, a film that the Lady had not watched. I set it up and we settle in to watch. Namby asks for more wine, and I provide it. He then promptly falls asleep.
6) The Lady and I agree that "When Harry Met Sally" is the best romcom out there. Namby feels it is "Love, Actually" and that "Notting Hill" is a close second. I think that Namby has an unhealthy infatuation with Hugh Grant.
I cannot wait for the next gathering.
Attendees: the Alleged Lady and the Namby Pamby (and two others). Daisy and the Esquirer were ensconced watching their beloved Red Wings lose to the awesome Penguins (heh heh) and Grace was otherwise occupied, so it was just the four of us.
Fun notes:
1) Namby was exhausted from his adventures of the previous evening (read no sleep for Namby). He and the Lady arrived at the same time, and they immediately wanted to see my new Denny Crane chairs. What are those, you may ask? Well, in the television show "Boston Legal", the characters Alan Shore and Denny Crane would close out each show sitting in amazing Italian plastic patio chairs that looked like easy chairs, smoking cigars and drinking Scotch. Yes, I purchased my own pair of these chairs for my balcony. After looking at (and experiencing) the chairs, Namby went inside to make himself a drink, and the Lady called for him to make one for her as well. Namby proceeded to make a dirty vodka on the rocks (Belvedere + olive juice) for the Lady-or so he thought. He was adding Bombay Sapphire gin to a martini shaker, and I asked him what he was doing? "Oh, making the Lady's drink", he proclaimed. "The Lady asked for Vodka, Namby", I replied. Namby looked at me quizzically and then nodded. He corrected himself and decided to make a gin and tonic for himself. At this point, one might assume that he simply poured the gin from the martini shaker into a glass and added tonic. One would be wrong. Namby proceeded to add tonic water to the shaker and SHAKE IT UP (cue song from the Cars).
Tonic water, as Namby soon realized, is carbonated. Cue gin and tonic carbonation explosion all over my living room.
Yes, the suave, debonair Namby Pamby was COMPLETELY out of it yesterday.
2) I put out an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and nuts. I tend to go overboard on my cheese trays, and I have a fondness for softer cheeses and some firmer Goudas. As my guests were remarking on the wonderful textures and flavors, the Lady offered this bon mot:
"I only really like them when they are REALLY HARD AND REALLY SMELLY."
Namby and I snorted (after all, at heart, we both have the sense of humor of 12 year olds).
"That's what she said."
3) Because he lives in the burbs, Namby has taken to occasionally crashing in my guest room. Unfortunately, on those occasions, he has failed to bring changes of clothes and...ah...undergarments. This has led to at least one occasion with Namby asking to borrow my underwear.
Yeah.
Anyway, on this occasion, I told Namby to remember a change of clothes for the next day. Namby showed up with a new shirt, a fresh box of underwear, and fresh socks. Because he left early enough to catch a train, he did not need them, but he proposed leaving the items at my place for future nights in town. So now-Namby has a drawer in a dresser in my guest room. I think that I feel a little uncomfortable with that. The Lady, of course, found this all hysterical.
4) The Lady kicks butt on the drums (when she does not drop the sticks), guitar, AND the microphone on Rock Band. Namby, on the other hand, made an admirable effort but was coordinationally challenged with the instruments (although, to his credit, this was his first time playing the game's instruments). Namby does, however, know how to belt out a tune.
5) Near the end of the evening, Namby proposes watching the film Iron Man, a film that the Lady had not watched. I set it up and we settle in to watch. Namby asks for more wine, and I provide it. He then promptly falls asleep.
6) The Lady and I agree that "When Harry Met Sally" is the best romcom out there. Namby feels it is "Love, Actually" and that "Notting Hill" is a close second. I think that Namby has an unhealthy infatuation with Hugh Grant.
I cannot wait for the next gathering.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tips on Getting Tips from the Artful Blogger
We have all been there-dining out with cheapskate friends who think nothing of running their waiter or waitress ragged and then neglects to leave any tip or-much worse-leaves something akin to loose change, believing that such monies pass as acceptable tips. I always cringed when I witnessed their actions. Wait staff (well, most of them, anyway) work hard for their money. They carry the food, bus the tables, refill our drinks, and bring us our check. They also listen to our myriad of demands for changes within the dishes that we order. In my life, for the most part, I have been lucky in that I have had good service when dining at restaurants. At the same time, I must mention that I am courteous and polite to the staff, never ordering them around or barking orders at them. They are people to and deserve the same respect that I would give my supervisors at work (something that the Artful parents instilled in me). The same goes for when I ride in cabs. For the most part, I am polite to my cab drivers and engage them in conversation about Chicago sports, whether it is a busy night for them, and what the tourists are doing in Chicago on a particular evening. As with wait staff, I am usually pretty generous about tipping in cabs.
In both cases, however, I have noticed that there are times where I really DO NOT WANT TO TIP ANYTHING. Poor service by itself is inexcusable, yet we have been conditioned to automatically tip for wait service and for cab service. So here is my list of "dos and don'ts" for wait staff and cab drivers for getting good tips from me:
Wait Staff:
In both cases, however, I have noticed that there are times where I really DO NOT WANT TO TIP ANYTHING. Poor service by itself is inexcusable, yet we have been conditioned to automatically tip for wait service and for cab service. So here is my list of "dos and don'ts" for wait staff and cab drivers for getting good tips from me:
Wait Staff:
- Refill my drink with stealthy skill. If my soda is constantly being replenished in a manner where I do not notice the staff, that is amazing. These skillful individuals ALWAYS get an excellent tip from me.
- Stop by to see if everything is OK with the meal. Do NOT just save these visits for when we JUST get the meal-at that time, we have not had a chance to partake and determine if everything is to our satisfaction. Check back periodically and do not disappear for long periods of time.
- Pay attention to the needs of your customer. This Monday, my brother and sister-in-law took me to dinner to thank me for taking care of their awesome dog Pepper for the week (I really miss the dog now). While there, my sister-in-law wanted to order dessert to go, and we settled on an ice cream concoction. The waitress assured us that it would be packed and would make the 10 minute trip to my place with ease. She dropped off the dessert...and disappeared. No check came out. We waited for 5 minutes..then 10 minutes...then 15 minutes...at which time she stopped by our table to drop off our check. She then proceeded to disappear for ANOTHER 15 minutes-knowing that we had FREAKING ICE CREAM for take out. She should have been more aware-it is not that hard to close out a check and come back to check on payment. Epic FAIL for her.
- CLEAN YOUR CABS. Nothing is worse than being stuck in a cab with the windows shut with a cabbie who has not bathed since 1998. I am talking NAUSEATING. Either that or make sure the windows are rolled down....no, just bathe....PLEASE.
- DO NOT TALK ON YOUR PHONE-I do not care if you do not talk to ME so long as you just pay attention to your freaking job! You have one thing to do-get me from point A to point B safely and efficiently. Remember that!
- Get there faster. You might think that you are pulling one over on me, but I know my way around Chicago in whatever state I may be in. Last night, I met the Namby Pamby out for drinks after work and haled a cab to get home. After I gave the cabdriver my address, he proceeded to turn left and head towards Michigan Avenue. At that point, I knew that he was NOT getting a good tip, for there is another street that he had to CROSS where, if he had taken it, I would be home much faster, as that street has 1/4 the number of lights and twice the speed limit. Furthermore, the cabdriver made his way gingerly through the streets in an OBVIOUS bid to catch some RED LIGHTS. Umm...no, I am trying to get some place as fast as possible. DO NOT PULL THAT BS ON ME. At one point, we were behind a car in the left lane and the right lane was open. By this time, I was HOT. I knew this guy was trying to gyp me and I said, out loud, "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!". Amazingly, the cabdriver rediscovered the gas pedal and zoomed all the way home. Nerts to him, though. Rather than the $3-6 tip I usually give based on speed of travel, he was allowed to keep the 50 cents left over when I handed him $7 for a $6.50 bill. AND he did not drop me off in front of my building near the door (2 car lengths away).
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
My Stolen Lines #4
Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking*
This is what it all came down to. 7 years in Baltimore, toiling for less than a living wage, trying to unlock secrets of the human genome and training myself to be a scientist. 7 years being summed up in a single one hour seminar given before the entire department, a question and answer session to follow with my dissertation committee.
I had come so far, yet I was frightened. As I drove into work, I started talking to myself:
Artful, you know more about this subject than ANYONE else in the room. You are an expert! You are the man! You are...completely pathetic and all by yourself. There is no one to celebrate with you when it is over. You are going to get into your car and drive to your best friends wedding. Jesus Christ...I have spent my 20s in school and have no one, and my best friend is getting on with his life and marrying the woman of his dreams. Where did the time go?
It has not SEEMED like 7 years. I remembered coming to Baltimore intending just to get my Masters as a stepping stone to going to medical school. I remembered moving to Baltimore right out of graduating from UVA and living in a dormitory a hop, skip and a jump away from Camden Yards.
When I first came to Baltimore, I remembered that I was amazed by the quality of individuals in my program. These were hardcore scientists, and I never felt that I measured up. Over time, however, I learned and became more adept at "doing the science." I mastered the fine art of immunohistochemistry, cell culture, and PCR. I KNEW the science backwards and forwards with my project.
My project...that in itself was a long road taken. Originally, I was looking at Peripheral Arterial Disease in the elderly and using a real patient population for my studies. I remember running people through stress tests and measuring their peak VO2. I remember administering resting metabolic rate tests to these individuals and learning how to take a blood pressure measurement manually while someone was on a treadmill. I remember meeting one of the best people I have ever met, someone I have since lost touch with-a very good friend. I also remember the day when my mentor lost his funding-2 years into my research. I had to start from scratch all over again, and I chose to go molecular.
The lab I chose was a good one, but the week before I joined, my new mentor lost his lab assistant of 9 years-the assistant had committed suicide. My mentor to be would never be the same after that. I became the de facto lab head, trying to work on my PhD while running the lab. I became frustrated, as I saw others in my department actually being trained and graduating while I was stuck in the lab. I was doing good work, yet my mentor never thought it was enough. I remember the day when I finally said ENOUGH! I scheduled a committee meeting, and at the end, one of the committee members told me that I was ready and I should write it up, My mentor was stunned, and I was elated.
I went on interviews for postdocs and accepted a position in Chicago so that I could be closer to my brother, who was starting his own fellowship. I was scheduled to move a month after my dissertation defense. I was scheduled to defend in September.
And the day before my defense, my mentor pulled one more cruel trick on me and said it was not good enough. I screamed to the heavens that night. WHY? I had endured so much. I had suffered. I had run the gauntlet, yet I was denied the last bit of satisfaction. I ended up moving in October, and I had to schedule my defense again. I remember the anticipation and the fear as if it were yesterday. I was staying at a hotel in town, and I had a rental car. The morning of my defense, I looked over my slides over and over again as I wolfed down breakfast. My stomach was uneasy, yet I knew that I would need my strength. I then got into my car and started what I hope would be the last drive I would have to make to campus.
Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking.
I went over my notes and then cursed the sky for putting me in this position. Where had the time gone? What happened if I did not pass? Would I have to move back here and start anew? Would I ever be able to go on with life? I felt so alone.
I arrived on campus and made my way to the seminar room. The seminar room was packed with members of the department. What I also noticed is that a lot of my friends were there, people who made the trip back just to support me. They took up the front rows of the room so that they could act as a line of defense for the hard questions. One of my best friends told me that if I was faced with the tough questions, I could look at her and she would nod her head in a gentle manner to assure me that I was doing fine.
I then gave the talk of my life. I do not know what happened, but I OWNED THE ROOM. Every snarky question that was asked by a faculty member was deftly met with sound scientific answers. My mentor even grudgingly had to admit that I had passed. The battle-no, the WAR-was over. I had done it. I had my PhD. I would always have it. I had not given up and fought the good fight. I was DONE WIITH SCHOOL (ok, maybe not).
Now, as I look back at those years in Baltimore, I cannot help but have mixed emotions. It was so much a part of my life-7 years in the same city meeting so many different people. Four of my best friends, 2 serious girlfriends, summer nights at the harbor, in Fells Point, in Canton, or in the mountains, winters spent struggling with the snow and the ice, never giving up and never surrendering my goal.
Since then, I have not gone back to my school. There are too many painful memories associated with it. Still, we all are the sum total of our life experiences. I would not be the person that I am today if I had not gone through my Baltimore experience. I would not have the friends I enjoy or my godson who currently resides in Florida. I knew moments of insane happiness and sadness in Baltimore. But the one thing Baltimore gave me that I have never experienced since and will likely never experience again was the high of seeing all of the signatures of my committee members on the dissertation passage report sheet. I HAD DONE IT! That is a high that made it all worthwhile, the only accomplishment in my life where the end was nowhere NEAR anticlimactic.
*I Stole the first line of this post from Stay Tuned, by Jennifer Weigel. This is part of Grace's ongoing Stolen Lines Experiment.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
An X-Rated conversation with the Namby Pamby
The setting: my car
The occupants: me and the Namby Pamby
The scene: driving north from Downtown Chicago for a sushi dinner with the Alleged Lady, Grace, and the Dirty Hippie
Cue scene:
Artful and Namby are driving through Namby's old neighborhood on the way north. Artful is behind the wheel and Namby is commenting on the sights and sounds.
Namby: "This was where my Jewel (a local grocery store) used to be."
Artful (trying to be witty like Namby. but failing miserably): "The Jewel of the Nile?"
Namby: "Where is that from?"
Artful: "Umm..the movie? "The Jewel of the Nile"? Sequel to "Romancing the Stone"
Namby: "That's where it's from!"
Silence, as I try to come up with something more witty. Then...
Artful: "I think it is also the name of a porn star."
Namby (laughing loudly): "Artful, you really are knowledgeable about all films!"
Now, keep in mind that I have NEVER frequented an adult theater, but I continued on, driven by Namby's laughter.
Artful (emboldened by Namby's laughter and trying to make it continue): "Yessir-nothing beats a good nudie theater. I mean, the soft focus, the soft seats..."
Namby: "Premoistened, of course..."
Artful: "Of course! and all the free tissues that you need...everyone there for the same purpose, a brotherhood of sorts. One giant circle jerk."
Namby (shouting and laughing with glee): "HA!! CIRCLE JERK!"
When uttering the words, Namby failed to realize that 1) he was shouting, as he does often and 2) the windows and sunroof of the car were open. These realizations slowly dawned on him when he looked to his right after shouting "CIRCLE JERK" and saw a woman in a car with her windows open, looking at the two of us with open disgust and turning away as Namby waved his fingers to her and sheepishly said "Hi!"
Seriously, I cannot make this stuff up.
The occupants: me and the Namby Pamby
The scene: driving north from Downtown Chicago for a sushi dinner with the Alleged Lady, Grace, and the Dirty Hippie
Cue scene:
Artful and Namby are driving through Namby's old neighborhood on the way north. Artful is behind the wheel and Namby is commenting on the sights and sounds.
Namby: "This was where my Jewel (a local grocery store) used to be."
Artful (trying to be witty like Namby. but failing miserably): "The Jewel of the Nile?"
Namby: "Where is that from?"
Artful: "Umm..the movie? "The Jewel of the Nile"? Sequel to "Romancing the Stone"
Namby: "That's where it's from!"
Silence, as I try to come up with something more witty. Then...
Artful: "I think it is also the name of a porn star."
Namby (laughing loudly): "Artful, you really are knowledgeable about all films!"
Now, keep in mind that I have NEVER frequented an adult theater, but I continued on, driven by Namby's laughter.
Artful (emboldened by Namby's laughter and trying to make it continue): "Yessir-nothing beats a good nudie theater. I mean, the soft focus, the soft seats..."
Namby: "Premoistened, of course..."
Artful: "Of course! and all the free tissues that you need...everyone there for the same purpose, a brotherhood of sorts. One giant circle jerk."
Namby (shouting and laughing with glee): "HA!! CIRCLE JERK!"
When uttering the words, Namby failed to realize that 1) he was shouting, as he does often and 2) the windows and sunroof of the car were open. These realizations slowly dawned on him when he looked to his right after shouting "CIRCLE JERK" and saw a woman in a car with her windows open, looking at the two of us with open disgust and turning away as Namby waved his fingers to her and sheepishly said "Hi!"
Seriously, I cannot make this stuff up.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Star Trek: The Review
10 minutes.
That is all it took for JJ Abrams to make a believer out of me.
10 minutes.
Let us set the stage for my viewing of Star Trek. IMAX? Check. Perfect seats? Check. Enthusiastic crowd? Check. Worries? Check.
Why worries? Well, as I said in my earlier post, I grew up on classic Trek. The Next Generation was during my college and grad school years. I had read of how Abrams was making wholesale changes to canon, and that worried me. You see, he had attempted something similar with Superman a few years ago in which Luthor morphed into a survivor of the planet Krypton and Superman had all sorts of strange new powers.
Yeah, I know.
So as the lights dimmed, and the never ending parade of production company logos played out across the screen, I waited, anxiously. The giant IMAX screen was filled with the images of Abrams interpretation of a Starship bridge. There was no indication of when these events were taking place. We found out that we were on the bridge of the USS Kelvin. Business as usual is going on until a massive lightning storm anomaly appears in front of the ship. An enormous ship emerges from the anomaly-a great black hulking monstrosity with tentacles of metal reaching out towards the smaller ship. Immediately the Kelvin is under attack-an AMAZINGLY dynamic space battle. Gone are the days of slow moving models on strings with hit or miss phaser shots from the various banks. In this version ,the camera was dynamic as it swooped and turned around the space battle. However, as cool as that was, what caught my attention early on was the human component of the story. Within the first 10 minutes, Abrams introduced us to 3 characters who we honestly cared about and developed an emotional connection to before things changed for them forever. Right at the climax-opening title credit. I was breathless. I turned to Alleged Lady and said "THAT was the first FREAKING 10 minutes? HOLY CRAP-this is already one of the best Trek films I have seen."
I did have to adjust my feelings as the film wore on, however. It became not only one of the best Trek films I have ever watched but one of the most enjoyable action films I have ever watched. We the audience were treated to the creation of the legends of James Tiberius Kirk and Spock of Vulcan. We saw each of the secondary crew members have their moment in the sun. We see Karl Urban INHABIT the role of Leonard McCoy. Most importantly, we see a story that was NOT bogged down in technobabble and expansive views out the screen of the ship. With Abrams, the audience felt INVOLVED with the story and not mere spectators. The screenwriters made some bold story choices as well and changed the historical timeline for Trek for good. One major event was stunning in how it forever altered Spock's role in the story.
SPOILERS BELOW:
Changes in Trek lore include the destruction of the planet Vulcan, the death of Spock's mother Amanda, a libidinous Spock involved with Uhura, the death of Kirk's father well before he was supposed to die, and the permanent residence of Spock from 120 years into the future into the past. Of all of these changes, the only thing that did not sit well with me was the libidinous Spock. It changed one of the fundamental aspects of the character for no good reason. Other than that, however, none of the changes to Trek canon particularly bothered me in a "get a life" kind of way.
SPOILERS END:
The real effect of these changes is that now, many of the events first depicted in the original 1960s series never happened. That series is now considered an alternative timeline from what was introduced in Star Trek: the movie. That is not a big deal. What is important is that this movie injects energy into a moribund franchise that desperately needed it AND allowed people too eager to dismiss Star Trek as the epitome of nerddome to enjoy a new story and finally be able to understand what it was about the characters that made it so great. The music was great, the special effects were stunning, and the performances were...wow. Chris Pine IS James T. Kirk. Karl Urban IS Leonard McCoy.
I am excited for what the future of the franchise holds, and I am excited to see new fans embracing the...dare I say it...coolness of the franchise. I never thought that Star Trek would ever be considered cool, but as Chris Pine's steel blue eyes glared out across the screen (causing Alleged Lady to turn away from the "incredible hotness in front of" her), I knew that the cast would be a hit with the non-fans. This is the beginning of something great. I am glad that I got to experience it AND I cannot wait to see it again.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The Star Trek Post-pre movie
Right about now, Daisy has already clicked off of my post. I know that she does this whenever I have a discussion about comics or any other thing that does not hold her fancy, but DAMMIT DAISY-if I have to put up with Fat Baby Fridays then you can deign to read some of my geek posts. You might even learn something :-). JK, Daisy-I tease because I love!
A-HEM. Anyway, this post is a prequel post to my midnight viewing of Star Trek (happening tomorrow night-IMAX BABY!). So far, advance word on the film from Trek fans has been incredibly mixed, but advanced word from EVERYONE has been stellar. See, this is the kind of Trek movie that is accessible to everyone, from what I hear. This is a good thing. With the success of Star Trek over the years has come a build up of canon-things that can and cannot be done within the stories due to the importance of continuity. By using time travel as a mechanism to induce change in Roddenberry's universe, JJ Abrahms is doing something unique in his relaunch-namely making Star Trek accessible to the masses and less geeky.
The actual allure of Star Trek for me starts with reruns that I watched as a child. At the time, there were no video tapes, dvds, laser discs, or blu-rays. Star Trek was off the air before I was born, and my older brother regaled me with stories of animated Star Trek-a show that he watched when HE was smaller. So it was with great excitement that we found out that our local affiliate was airing reruns of Star Trek every weeknight at 7 PM. From the first episode, I was hooked. Before the time of Trek conventions and before the multiple series and "that movie with the whales," Star Trek was the quintessential adventure series set in space. Of course, during the early years of Roddenberry, the storylines were, at times, melodramatic (as were the music and some of the situations). Even as a child, I found some of the episodes ridiculous (Really? A planet full of Nazis? Really? A planet full of Romans? Really? A planet full of gangsters?), but the chemistry was there among the crew members. The attention to realism and realistic science inspired countless boys and girls to become scientists and astronauts. Even some of the devices in the show inspired inventors, as the diagnostic beds in sick bay inspired CT and MRI scans and the communicators inspired the modern day flip phones. In the end, this was another version of Horatio Hornblower (has anyone ever read C.S. Forester's novels?)-albeit in space. Kirk, Spock and McCoy represented facets of the ego, superego, and the id.
What always pissed me off, however, is how those of us who were Trek fans were painted with the broad brush of being geeks BECAUSE of it. Why can't someone enjoy a show or work of fiction without being ostracized? I mean, I know that the technobabble in the show can sometimes be a bit much, but at least with the original series, it never got in the way of the story. There were some amazing stories told during the first season of Star Trek and into the second, and I pity those people who would not give the show a chance because "oh, it's Star Trek." Can you say "closed-minded"?
Why do I write this? Well, I know that the film is currently getting stellar reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. In fact, it currently looks to be one of the best reviewed films of the year. I am asking those of you who have never given Star Trek a chance or who have had the misfortune to experience some of the numerous Trek misfires over the years (any odd numbered Star Trek film, Voyager, and Enterprise) to give it another shot. This should be a fun film, a jumping on point. It is supposedly about the characters. Don't write it off simply because it is Star Trek.
I will post my review of the film sometime this weekend. Maybe I can even get Alleged Lady to chime in, as she is attending the viewing with me.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Oh the Spectacle!
These are heady times for Chicago sports fans. The spring started off with the blockbuster trade that brought Jay Cutler, Denver's Pro Bowl quarterback, to Chicago. The Blackhawks, long the underappreciated and underfunded member of the Chicago sports pantheon (think LA Clippers), are the youngest, hottest team in the NHL. While they may not get the Cup this year, they are built for future success AND they won their first playoff series in over a decade. The real winner this spring has been the Bulls. From seemingly out of nowhere, this team has grown up. We have witnessed, in this first round, the birth of a playoff star in Derrick Rose. We have seen 5 overtime games, with the capper being the TRIPLE OVERTIME game from last night.
I was lucky enough to watch the game in the company of the Namby Pamby. It was the first Bulls playoff game I have been able to watch almost in its entirety. There are some thoughts that I had while watching the game. I could not believe the passion. I was blown away by the physicality and the shouting and taunting. I was enamoured by the slow burns and the fades, the ebbs and flows...I could not believe how fast the feet moved back and forth across the hardwood. I could see the excitement and the exhaustion manifest themselves as the game stretched on for over 4 hours. The sweat was pouring, the yelling and physicality became more emphatic, and I feared that someone would get hurt.
And that was just talking about what it was like to watch Namby watch the game. The game itself was entertaining too.
I was lucky enough to watch the game in the company of the Namby Pamby. It was the first Bulls playoff game I have been able to watch almost in its entirety. There are some thoughts that I had while watching the game. I could not believe the passion. I was blown away by the physicality and the shouting and taunting. I was enamoured by the slow burns and the fades, the ebbs and flows...I could not believe how fast the feet moved back and forth across the hardwood. I could see the excitement and the exhaustion manifest themselves as the game stretched on for over 4 hours. The sweat was pouring, the yelling and physicality became more emphatic, and I feared that someone would get hurt.
And that was just talking about what it was like to watch Namby watch the game. The game itself was entertaining too.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Blogging from Mid-Air
As I write this entry, I am flying to Omaha for a wedding this weekend. No, I am not writing this in a word processing application and then porting it over to Blogger-I am literally on-line in midair!!!! Air travel just got a lot more fun.
I remember how bored I used to get while traveling to India as a young lad. The hours passed by interminably, the movies were bad, the stale air seemed to leach into my skin, drying it out with each passing minute, and, by the time I arrived in India, I felt as if I had been on a prison for the previous 18 hours.
Slowly, over the years, things started to change. I first noticed the changes right after the turn of the century, when my numerous flights for the biotech firm I worked for became shorter thanks to my iPod and to my PSP. Even having a computer on the flight was a blessing, for I could watch a movie and kind of tune out the rest of the world. Bringing DVDs with me soon gave way to me saving my DVDs in iTunes format on my hard drive so that I would not need to worry about dvd damage. I made most of my tv show dvds iTunes files, and it seemed as if this was the best it could get. No longer was I a slave to the awful in-flight magazines (you know, the ones that have the world maps at the end just to rub in the fact that there are so many places you will never visit). No longer did I peruse Skymall, thinking that a life sized Yoda would, in fact, make a great addition to my study. I could fire up my laptop and be lost in a tv show that I needed to catch up with. Of course, I also purchased a Slingbox-those nifty devices that allow you to stream live and dvr'd tv shows straight to your laptop. That enabled me, when I was on the ground, to move some of the files wirelessly to my laptop so that I could watch it while in flight.
Still, even with all of these extra-sensory stimuli, I always felt kind of disconnected with the real world (especially on a long flight). As of today, however, I recognize just how much air travel has changed. Once the flight reached cruising altitude, I was able to fire up my laptop and within minutes was surfing the web. I read about Matt Stafford's record setting contract, signed into AIM, and checked my work e-mail. I was even able to log into my work document retention database. How much freedom can one take?
So now I must end the post-I might pass the time by watching Sportscenter...live...on my laptop...while in the air....
I love the age that we live in!
I remember how bored I used to get while traveling to India as a young lad. The hours passed by interminably, the movies were bad, the stale air seemed to leach into my skin, drying it out with each passing minute, and, by the time I arrived in India, I felt as if I had been on a prison for the previous 18 hours.
Slowly, over the years, things started to change. I first noticed the changes right after the turn of the century, when my numerous flights for the biotech firm I worked for became shorter thanks to my iPod and to my PSP. Even having a computer on the flight was a blessing, for I could watch a movie and kind of tune out the rest of the world. Bringing DVDs with me soon gave way to me saving my DVDs in iTunes format on my hard drive so that I would not need to worry about dvd damage. I made most of my tv show dvds iTunes files, and it seemed as if this was the best it could get. No longer was I a slave to the awful in-flight magazines (you know, the ones that have the world maps at the end just to rub in the fact that there are so many places you will never visit). No longer did I peruse Skymall, thinking that a life sized Yoda would, in fact, make a great addition to my study. I could fire up my laptop and be lost in a tv show that I needed to catch up with. Of course, I also purchased a Slingbox-those nifty devices that allow you to stream live and dvr'd tv shows straight to your laptop. That enabled me, when I was on the ground, to move some of the files wirelessly to my laptop so that I could watch it while in flight.
Still, even with all of these extra-sensory stimuli, I always felt kind of disconnected with the real world (especially on a long flight). As of today, however, I recognize just how much air travel has changed. Once the flight reached cruising altitude, I was able to fire up my laptop and within minutes was surfing the web. I read about Matt Stafford's record setting contract, signed into AIM, and checked my work e-mail. I was even able to log into my work document retention database. How much freedom can one take?
So now I must end the post-I might pass the time by watching Sportscenter...live...on my laptop...while in the air....
I love the age that we live in!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A Birthday Conversation with the Artful Mom
So the Artful Mom turned 67 on Tuesday. That is quite an achievement. I always find it amazing that she has been married to the Artful Dad for 42 years, so she has only spent a little over 1/3 of her life without him!
Me: "Happy Birthday, Mom!"
AM: "Thanks, sweetie. I wish you were here to celebrate with me!"
Me: "I wish I was there too. Did you get my card?"
AM: "Yes, I loved it!"
Me: "Are you and Dad doing anything special to celebrate your birthday?"
AM (keep in mind that my parents are, financially speaking, pretty well off by most standards): "YES! We are going to Chili's! I get a FREE DESSERT because it is my birthday!"
The Artful Parents rock.
Me: "Happy Birthday, Mom!"
AM: "Thanks, sweetie. I wish you were here to celebrate with me!"
Me: "I wish I was there too. Did you get my card?"
AM: "Yes, I loved it!"
Me: "Are you and Dad doing anything special to celebrate your birthday?"
AM (keep in mind that my parents are, financially speaking, pretty well off by most standards): "YES! We are going to Chili's! I get a FREE DESSERT because it is my birthday!"
The Artful Parents rock.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Random Thoughts on the Way into Work
1. Damn-people really DO listen to their iPods at too loud a volume. I see all of these kids (and more than a few adults) blasting away with their earbuds who don't know that one can never replace lost hearing. I then smile because the blaring of their iPods will have repercussions, and I am a firm believer in karma. I then grow sad because I know that these idiots will end up being supported by other taxpayers because OBVIOUSLY they are too stupid to understand the volume control on their iPods. I envision them gesturing to me (because, you know, they will not be able to hear) asking me for spare change. And then I am pissed. I want to rip the earbuds from their ears, stomp on them, and inform them of how their poor taste in music is poisoning the entire El experience. And then I laugh. "El Experience"? The overcrowding, the loud-talkers, and the pervasive smell of pee (sometimes)? The experience was spoiled long before the iPod ever arrived. I retreat back into my own private reverie, ignoring, once again, all of those people surrounding me.
2. When getting off the El, I notice a morbidly obese person (seriously) jostling her way in front of everyone near the exit door of the train. I always get on the same train car because I know that the exit doors, upon my arrival to my destination, will open right at the spot where there are stairs that take me out of the station. So this fat person is right in front of the doors. The train arrives, the doors slide open, and the morbidly obese person "rushes" to the stairs-and then proceeds to gingerly take them step by step-all the while holding up the rest of the rush hour passengers trying to get to work. You know, I get it. I am not exactly a svelte individual, but as Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "The right to swing one's fist ends where the other man's nose begins." I know that you have the right to gingerly take the stairs. Stairs are treacherous-especially in the wintertime. However, I see no reason for you, oh morbidly obese one, to push your way to the front only to hold everyone else up. Wait. Everyone else is moving so much faster than you anyway that you will not lose any time. I think to myself that I would not feel this way if she had not PUSHED her way in front of everyone as if she was in a hurry. Oh well. Time to exit the station and get breakfast.
3. The Jamba Juice location closest to my office is packed with customers. I am waiting in line, lost in my own thoughts, when I look around. Wow. Every single customer other than myself is a woman. Not only that-they are Hot (Hawt, even). Holy crap. Namby, you need to meet me for breakfast down here one day and see for yourself. Utterly, utterly ridiculous.
4. Mmmm...apple cinnamon steel cut oatmeal...and now my day begins.
2. When getting off the El, I notice a morbidly obese person (seriously) jostling her way in front of everyone near the exit door of the train. I always get on the same train car because I know that the exit doors, upon my arrival to my destination, will open right at the spot where there are stairs that take me out of the station. So this fat person is right in front of the doors. The train arrives, the doors slide open, and the morbidly obese person "rushes" to the stairs-and then proceeds to gingerly take them step by step-all the while holding up the rest of the rush hour passengers trying to get to work. You know, I get it. I am not exactly a svelte individual, but as Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "The right to swing one's fist ends where the other man's nose begins." I know that you have the right to gingerly take the stairs. Stairs are treacherous-especially in the wintertime. However, I see no reason for you, oh morbidly obese one, to push your way to the front only to hold everyone else up. Wait. Everyone else is moving so much faster than you anyway that you will not lose any time. I think to myself that I would not feel this way if she had not PUSHED her way in front of everyone as if she was in a hurry. Oh well. Time to exit the station and get breakfast.
3. The Jamba Juice location closest to my office is packed with customers. I am waiting in line, lost in my own thoughts, when I look around. Wow. Every single customer other than myself is a woman. Not only that-they are Hot (Hawt, even). Holy crap. Namby, you need to meet me for breakfast down here one day and see for yourself. Utterly, utterly ridiculous.
4. Mmmm...apple cinnamon steel cut oatmeal...and now my day begins.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Growing up at the age of 37
As a career student, my own maturation, I believe, was severely hindered by being constantly surrounded by people who were, similarly, not mature. At the same time, many of my own habits and such remained unchanged since I was a pre-teen. This meant the collecting of nerds stuff (comics, toys, etc). I realized early on that I had a bit of a pack rat syndrome. I purchased SO MUCH junk over the years and always kept everything in their original packaging because that way, they would retain their value.
Remember Steve Carrell's character Andy from "The 40 Year Old Virgin?" Ummm....yeah....
After I started working at the firm, my work hours started taking over. My monthly comics shipment sat unread, and after three months, I realized that, FINALLY, I had outgrown this one aspect of my childhood. I canceled my monthly comics subscription. I soon noticed that I did not miss it. I also noticed that my own personal tastes for furnishings and such was developing to the point where I want to decorate my place in a tasteful, yet manly, way. However, in order to do that, there was also the rest of my collecting bug that needed to be kicked to the curb. I want to have a nice place, buy nicer clothes for work, and finally get a newer car. Those obsessions have replaced my childhood ones, and just as I used to get excited about a new toy or some other such nonsense, I find myself looking forward to getting deals on a Hugo Boss suit (this is a shout out to the impeccably dressed Namby Pamby) or a good deal on an off-lease car. This car:
My own interests in things of my childhood (FINALLY) are waning, and at the ripe age of 37, I find myself entertaining a brave new world of shopping as a grown up. I recognize that I still like toys, but the toys (clothes, car, etc.) are bigger and demand that I save up for them. While I recognize that I am giving up the instant gratification of a toy or comic, I recognize that there are bigger things to be concerned with. I want to save for retirement. I want to save in case I get fired. I want to get nicer things but not be in debt. I need to pay my student loan payments.
When did I become a responsible adult, anyway?
Oh right...the minute I saw my brother's new S5. Yup...that will do it every time...
Remember Steve Carrell's character Andy from "The 40 Year Old Virgin?" Ummm....yeah....
After I started working at the firm, my work hours started taking over. My monthly comics shipment sat unread, and after three months, I realized that, FINALLY, I had outgrown this one aspect of my childhood. I canceled my monthly comics subscription. I soon noticed that I did not miss it. I also noticed that my own personal tastes for furnishings and such was developing to the point where I want to decorate my place in a tasteful, yet manly, way. However, in order to do that, there was also the rest of my collecting bug that needed to be kicked to the curb. I want to have a nice place, buy nicer clothes for work, and finally get a newer car. Those obsessions have replaced my childhood ones, and just as I used to get excited about a new toy or some other such nonsense, I find myself looking forward to getting deals on a Hugo Boss suit (this is a shout out to the impeccably dressed Namby Pamby) or a good deal on an off-lease car. This car:
My own interests in things of my childhood (FINALLY) are waning, and at the ripe age of 37, I find myself entertaining a brave new world of shopping as a grown up. I recognize that I still like toys, but the toys (clothes, car, etc.) are bigger and demand that I save up for them. While I recognize that I am giving up the instant gratification of a toy or comic, I recognize that there are bigger things to be concerned with. I want to save for retirement. I want to save in case I get fired. I want to get nicer things but not be in debt. I need to pay my student loan payments.
When did I become a responsible adult, anyway?
Oh right...the minute I saw my brother's new S5. Yup...that will do it every time...
Monday, April 06, 2009
Somewhere, James Beard is weeping
After a tough day at work, I realized that I had not gone grocery shopping in a while AND I had not eaten anything since oatmeal for breakfast. I knew that I wanted a glass of wine with dinner, but what to eat?
So here I am, enjoying my dinner:
1. a glass of 2003 Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon
2. 3 White Castle Sliders
Wow, this wine really DOES go with everything...
Sunday, April 05, 2009
A Sobering Realization
I really cannot complain, you know. In this economy, with so many attorneys being fired, talk of reduction of salaries, and so many of my law classmates still striving to find jobs, I should not complain. After all, I have a great job. I love the people that I work with, I look forward to going into work every day, and I am busy. While our firm has had some slowdown, we are firing on all cylinders in other respects and are built to weather the recession intact. We are still looking to hire, too (engineers and scientists with MS or PhDs + JDs), but still, that speaks a lot about the financial health of our firm. They have not cut down on the amenities at the firm (which are, while not opulent as in some big firms, still very nice).
As an IP attorney working in biotech, however, there are some crossroads that one comes to. I have my doctorate in Molecular Endocrinology. In my previous life, I was a gene jockey. I love genetics, genomics, and molecular biology. It makes sense to me just as the notes on a page might make sense to a musician. When I set out to get my doctorate, I soon realized that a life at the bench was not for me. I tend to be more social and less the stereotype of the nebbish scientist hunched over tubes writing alone in his office, asking for money for research every five years. Although I loved the science, life as a scientist was not that appealing for me. I considered law school right out of my graduate program, but I chose to work as a postdoc and then in private industry. I recognized that, with the amazing advancements in gene sequencing that I was witnessing (climaxing, for me, with the completion of the race to sequence the human genome), I knew that the law would be the next avenue that would shape accessibility for so much of this information for the rest of the world. Patent law made sense to me. After all, it would allow me the chance to make a difference in helping shape the law as it applies to the rapid advances in scientific knowledge that seemed to move ahead of the law. Witness the great stem cell debate or the new testing centers for genetic factors. Imagine a world where employers and insurance companies demanded PCR tests and DNA profiles on their clients, employees and customers to determine predispositions to diseases and charging more or less for certain individuals. The privacy issues alone are staggering if one thinks about it.
One of the big areas for me has been in the arena of access to affordable pharmaceuticals. Lined up on one side of the line are big pharma, the companies that are the innovators yet justify the high costs of prescription medications through statements expounding on the high costs associated with R&D. On the other side are the generic manufacturers, those companies trying to bring products to market that are more affordable yet do not have the R & D expenses (thereby justifying their lower costs). Caught in the middle of this tug of war between these conglomerates is the consumer, everyone who needs medicine. Patents exist to reward innovation, but at what cost? If someone is dying yet cannot afford an expensive medication that is under patent protection, is that just? At the same time, the argument is that without patent protection, no one would feel inclined to innovate. Why put up all of the money to create something where others can just swoop in and copy it?
I always envisioned myself working on behalf of generic companies. After all, they are working to get the drugs to the people (affordably) faster. I could see myself involved in litigation with the big pharma companies, fighting on behalf of the underdogs. There is, however, one problem. In legal cannon, it is called conflict of interest, and it is exactly what it sounds like. it pretty much means that you cannot, without a waiver provided by your clients, represent adverse parties at the same time. Sometimes, the conflict can outlive the case itself and go on for the rest of your career-especially when you are privy to confidential corporate information from one of your clients.
Last week, I realized that I would, most likely, forever be barred from IP practice in terms of helping generic companies. This realization came as I was preparing patent applications for 2 of the largest name brand pharma companies in the world. Because they are such behemoths, I would most likely be conflicted out of any future work for generics against these companies.
It kinda saddened me. Here I am, not even a full 8 months into my legal career, and I already realize that I will, in all likelihood, not be able to do what I wanted to do. Can I still fight the good fight and do good? Yes. At the same time, I cannot use my knowledge on behalf of those who need it most.
Oh well-maybe things will change. I hope so. People who need medicine should be able to afford it. People who innovate need some sort of inducement to do so. What is the solution to this conundrum?
Monday, March 30, 2009
My Darkest Days are Ahead of Me...
Hello all:
I have reached a crossroads in my life. After this Spring, nothing will ever be the same again. I know that I will not find the same happiness that I currently do with the simple things in life. A baby's smile...a dog's wagging tale...Namby's mocking laughter...no, there are things that will forever change for me after this Spring.
I have fought it for as long as I can. I have struggled not to have to go down this dark path of oblivion, but with my life being the way it is, I have no choice. As an attorney working the hours that I work and having the quality of life that I have, it is inevitable that I would be forced to make this most distasteful, life altering, and most likely foolhardy decision-the most foolhardy that I have ever made.
I know that my decision will haunt me for the rest of my days, that I will be consumed by the beast that I intend to unleash, and that my decisions today will, in all likelihood, cost me many of the friendships that I now enjoy. I know that, after this Spring, my parents will not recognize me, my brother will likely curse my name, and all others will wonder whatever happened to the sweet-natured guy who was so easy going-the guy who was always there for you.
As I said, I have fought against this decision for months. It has been a difficult time, but in the end, I give up and give in. I cannot fight it anymore. I must embark on this dark path, and I fear that will never return. Let my blog be a lasting memorial to the person that I was, and I hope that some of you will be able to help me through the hell that is to come. I liken this to Frodo's journey-though he survived, he never truly healed from the wound inflicted by the Nazgul on Weathertop. I know that that wound is soon in my future, and all I can do is suck it up and hope for the best.
So what is this dark path that I am taking? Why will I turn into an obsessed person who will soon be a cursing fool (where at present I loathe to curse)? What is the fundamental aspect of my nature that I will be changing for all time?
I am taking up golf. May God have mercy on my soul.
(Betcha thought I was going somewhere COMPLETELY different, didn't you? :-)
I have reached a crossroads in my life. After this Spring, nothing will ever be the same again. I know that I will not find the same happiness that I currently do with the simple things in life. A baby's smile...a dog's wagging tale...Namby's mocking laughter...no, there are things that will forever change for me after this Spring.
I have fought it for as long as I can. I have struggled not to have to go down this dark path of oblivion, but with my life being the way it is, I have no choice. As an attorney working the hours that I work and having the quality of life that I have, it is inevitable that I would be forced to make this most distasteful, life altering, and most likely foolhardy decision-the most foolhardy that I have ever made.
I know that my decision will haunt me for the rest of my days, that I will be consumed by the beast that I intend to unleash, and that my decisions today will, in all likelihood, cost me many of the friendships that I now enjoy. I know that, after this Spring, my parents will not recognize me, my brother will likely curse my name, and all others will wonder whatever happened to the sweet-natured guy who was so easy going-the guy who was always there for you.
As I said, I have fought against this decision for months. It has been a difficult time, but in the end, I give up and give in. I cannot fight it anymore. I must embark on this dark path, and I fear that will never return. Let my blog be a lasting memorial to the person that I was, and I hope that some of you will be able to help me through the hell that is to come. I liken this to Frodo's journey-though he survived, he never truly healed from the wound inflicted by the Nazgul on Weathertop. I know that that wound is soon in my future, and all I can do is suck it up and hope for the best.
So what is this dark path that I am taking? Why will I turn into an obsessed person who will soon be a cursing fool (where at present I loathe to curse)? What is the fundamental aspect of my nature that I will be changing for all time?
I am taking up golf. May God have mercy on my soul.
(Betcha thought I was going somewhere COMPLETELY different, didn't you? :-)
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Apparently, I am on The List...and it Feels Pretty Good...
People who know me know that I am a big goofball. I love my childish things, and I love toys (both big boy and small kid) to the point where I have waaaay too many action figures in my collection and a lot of electronics to boot. I love to cook and bake, I love excellent wine and wine tastings, but I am never above a rousing game of Rock Band or a viewing of Futurama. Things being what they are, it is no surprise that people who are my friends see me in a certain way, a persona that is veerrry different from that which is my face in the working world.
At work, I cease being Artful and I become DR. BLOGGER. I refrain from speaking in Yoda's voice and do everything with purpose and confidence. I write briefs, answer patent examiners questions, confer with inventors and in-house counsel on a daily basis, lunch with partners, and interact with the staff on a boss-employee level (but always with respect, as the Artful Mom taught me). Somewhere between my condo filled with plastic electronic drum kits and the 32nd floor of the high rise where my office sits, with a view of downtown Chicago towards the lake, I transform from Artful to Dr. Blogger. I don't know what it is, but Dr. Blogger gets a lot more respect from people where Artful would not even get a second glance. Doors open, people respond, and things that I ask for get done.
Of course, it is strange to think that all of this is true. I am always the same person. That is fundamental and does not change. What changes is the public face because unfortunately, in the working world, such a demeanor is necessary to be taken seriously. There are, however, people who view Dr. Blogger in ways that they would never view poor, hapless Artful, so neatly personified in my Opus icon.
What do I mean? Well, this weekend I was dining with a few work colleagues. I had judged a legal competition, and we had decided to grab some food afterward. I hardly ever hang out with coworkers, so this was a welcome treat for me. So there we were, a male coworker and a female coworker and I, sitting down to dinner and wine. After a couple of hours, a few courses and a LOT of wine, the conversations became a little more...a...open. I, of course, was pretty sober. My coworkers...not so much. We started talking about the office and the people therein, as many coworkers do when they are out and about. I wondered aloud how people thought of me and expressed my fervent hope that I was not viewed as some kind of a-hole. The female co-worker rapidly disavowed me of that notion and, simultaneously, made my year.
Female co-worker: "Artful, really, you have nothing to worried about. Everyone at the firm really likes you."
Artful: "I don't buy that. I don't know everyone at the firm."
FCW: "Well, they know you or at least, they know OF you."
Artful: "Ooookaay-what the heck does that mean?"
FCW (after 6 glasses of Riesling, mind you): "Well come ON, Artful. You KNOW that you are on THE LIST!!!"
Artful: ". . . . . "
FCW: "You KNOW-THE LIST!" (pause) "Oh....maybe I should not say anything else..."
Artful (thinking that it is something bad now): "No, no...I can take it. Am I on the list of office a-holes?"
FCW: "Hardly-see, sometimes the female attorneys and some of the female staff get together for drinks and we discuss things, and we made a list of..."
Artful (thinking the suspense unbearable): "OF WHAT???"
FCW: "of the male attorneys we want to get into bed with."
Silence around the table. FCW rapidly blushes and turns beet red. I, on the other hand, immediately get a giant grin on my face. Hot damn...maybe there IS something to the whole confidence thing after all. I mean, I would never act on it, but it is damn flattering to be objectified in THAT way after toiling way in the kingdom of the nerds for so long.
The silence was broken by male co-worker
MCW: "So how many people are on the list?"
FCW (now choosing her words carefully): "Ten"
MCW: "And where, exactly, is Artful?"
FCW: "Oh...umm...top 5." At this point, I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head-once again, not because I would ever act on it but because people considered me that attractive when I am in business mode.
MCW: "Where am I on the list?"
FCW: "Oooo...ummm...you aren't."
Would it be wrong to say that that statement made me even happier? Yes, sometimes, I can be that shallow. In the end, I recognize it for what it was. The Artful who plays video games and sits around in jeans and a sweatshirt was not the object of affection; it was Dr. Blogger, the professional patent attorney who is strong and forceful and gets things done.
But which one is the real me?
At work, I cease being Artful and I become DR. BLOGGER. I refrain from speaking in Yoda's voice and do everything with purpose and confidence. I write briefs, answer patent examiners questions, confer with inventors and in-house counsel on a daily basis, lunch with partners, and interact with the staff on a boss-employee level (but always with respect, as the Artful Mom taught me). Somewhere between my condo filled with plastic electronic drum kits and the 32nd floor of the high rise where my office sits, with a view of downtown Chicago towards the lake, I transform from Artful to Dr. Blogger. I don't know what it is, but Dr. Blogger gets a lot more respect from people where Artful would not even get a second glance. Doors open, people respond, and things that I ask for get done.
Of course, it is strange to think that all of this is true. I am always the same person. That is fundamental and does not change. What changes is the public face because unfortunately, in the working world, such a demeanor is necessary to be taken seriously. There are, however, people who view Dr. Blogger in ways that they would never view poor, hapless Artful, so neatly personified in my Opus icon.
What do I mean? Well, this weekend I was dining with a few work colleagues. I had judged a legal competition, and we had decided to grab some food afterward. I hardly ever hang out with coworkers, so this was a welcome treat for me. So there we were, a male coworker and a female coworker and I, sitting down to dinner and wine. After a couple of hours, a few courses and a LOT of wine, the conversations became a little more...a...open. I, of course, was pretty sober. My coworkers...not so much. We started talking about the office and the people therein, as many coworkers do when they are out and about. I wondered aloud how people thought of me and expressed my fervent hope that I was not viewed as some kind of a-hole. The female co-worker rapidly disavowed me of that notion and, simultaneously, made my year.
Female co-worker: "Artful, really, you have nothing to worried about. Everyone at the firm really likes you."
Artful: "I don't buy that. I don't know everyone at the firm."
FCW: "Well, they know you or at least, they know OF you."
Artful: "Ooookaay-what the heck does that mean?"
FCW (after 6 glasses of Riesling, mind you): "Well come ON, Artful. You KNOW that you are on THE LIST!!!"
Artful: ". . . . . "
FCW: "You KNOW-THE LIST!" (pause) "Oh....maybe I should not say anything else..."
Artful (thinking that it is something bad now): "No, no...I can take it. Am I on the list of office a-holes?"
FCW: "Hardly-see, sometimes the female attorneys and some of the female staff get together for drinks and we discuss things, and we made a list of..."
Artful (thinking the suspense unbearable): "OF WHAT???"
FCW: "of the male attorneys we want to get into bed with."
Silence around the table. FCW rapidly blushes and turns beet red. I, on the other hand, immediately get a giant grin on my face. Hot damn...maybe there IS something to the whole confidence thing after all. I mean, I would never act on it, but it is damn flattering to be objectified in THAT way after toiling way in the kingdom of the nerds for so long.
The silence was broken by male co-worker
MCW: "So how many people are on the list?"
FCW (now choosing her words carefully): "Ten"
MCW: "And where, exactly, is Artful?"
FCW: "Oh...umm...top 5." At this point, I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head-once again, not because I would ever act on it but because people considered me that attractive when I am in business mode.
MCW: "Where am I on the list?"
FCW: "Oooo...ummm...you aren't."
Would it be wrong to say that that statement made me even happier? Yes, sometimes, I can be that shallow. In the end, I recognize it for what it was. The Artful who plays video games and sits around in jeans and a sweatshirt was not the object of affection; it was Dr. Blogger, the professional patent attorney who is strong and forceful and gets things done.
But which one is the real me?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Like the Finer Things Club, but Better
Last night was the first meeting of the Wednesday Night Club. In attendance were Daisy, PAG, the Alleged Lady, the Namby Pamby, and the Wayward Esquire. There will be many funny stories (I am sure) recounted in the blogs of my fellow bloggers, but this one story that I will recount requires a little background first.
Background Part I: The Esquire, Daisy, PAG and I attended the wedding of a friend of ours in the mecca of Rockford, IL last September. At the reception, our table was the most boisterous thanks to some hi jinks on the part of myself and the Esquire. Right as our 12 year-old level humor was cracking up the entire table (except for PAG and Daisy, who looked on in embarrassment), a gentleman named "Mr. Wizard" took center stage. He was a children's entertainer and told the story of the courtship of the wedded couple through a fairy tale complete with..props...Mr. Wizard proceed to tell the story of a man looking for a furry animal in the dense forest-and that was merely the first of many double entendres and phallic shaped instantly inflated balloon props that sent our table (already laughing over other things) over the edge. Our friends, the bride and groom, watched Mr. Wizard in stunned silence, but I must say it was the best entertainment I have ever witnessed at a wedding. I am still laughing at the memory as I type this.
Background Part II: When we gathered at the watering hole last night, Daisy joked that her mother had asked if her VERY SOUTHERN and old fashioned grandmother would be..OK...with me attending the wedding. You know, 'cause I am an Indian and all of that. We both laughed a little at that because Daisy has told her grandmother about me, and between my love of the novel "Chiefs" as well as through other things, I know that her grandmother would be fine with me (something that did not stop the Alleged Lady from wickedly suggesting that she and I share a deep and soulful interracial kiss right in front of Grandma Duke). Still, I took it for what it was-Daisy and I laughing about me not being allowed to enter the grounds because of my color. I joked that I could maybe park cars and that I might make some good tip money if people mistake me for a member of the wait staff.
Now we come to why you needed the background. As we were all discussing the wedding, I joked to Daisy "maybe you should invite Mr. Wizard." Predictably, Daisy, PAG, the Esquire, and myself started chortling as we all remembered the experience at the last wedding. UNPREDICTABLY, the largest laugh at my suggestion came from the Namby Pamby. As he recovered from his laughter, doubled over and all, I waited until he caught his breath.
Artful: "Wait, do you know the story of the wedding where there was that kids' entertainer Mr. Wizard?"
Namby: "Oh no! I thought you were suggesting that Daisy invite the KKK Wizard-you know, with it being the South and all."
Cue renewed laughter on all sides at the images of TWO visions in white at Daisy's wedding and a renewed discussion of the merits of "Blazing Saddles."
Background Part I: The Esquire, Daisy, PAG and I attended the wedding of a friend of ours in the mecca of Rockford, IL last September. At the reception, our table was the most boisterous thanks to some hi jinks on the part of myself and the Esquire. Right as our 12 year-old level humor was cracking up the entire table (except for PAG and Daisy, who looked on in embarrassment), a gentleman named "Mr. Wizard" took center stage. He was a children's entertainer and told the story of the courtship of the wedded couple through a fairy tale complete with..props...Mr. Wizard proceed to tell the story of a man looking for a furry animal in the dense forest-and that was merely the first of many double entendres and phallic shaped instantly inflated balloon props that sent our table (already laughing over other things) over the edge. Our friends, the bride and groom, watched Mr. Wizard in stunned silence, but I must say it was the best entertainment I have ever witnessed at a wedding. I am still laughing at the memory as I type this.
Background Part II: When we gathered at the watering hole last night, Daisy joked that her mother had asked if her VERY SOUTHERN and old fashioned grandmother would be..OK...with me attending the wedding. You know, 'cause I am an Indian and all of that. We both laughed a little at that because Daisy has told her grandmother about me, and between my love of the novel "Chiefs" as well as through other things, I know that her grandmother would be fine with me (something that did not stop the Alleged Lady from wickedly suggesting that she and I share a deep and soulful interracial kiss right in front of Grandma Duke). Still, I took it for what it was-Daisy and I laughing about me not being allowed to enter the grounds because of my color. I joked that I could maybe park cars and that I might make some good tip money if people mistake me for a member of the wait staff.
Now we come to why you needed the background. As we were all discussing the wedding, I joked to Daisy "maybe you should invite Mr. Wizard." Predictably, Daisy, PAG, the Esquire, and myself started chortling as we all remembered the experience at the last wedding. UNPREDICTABLY, the largest laugh at my suggestion came from the Namby Pamby. As he recovered from his laughter, doubled over and all, I waited until he caught his breath.
Artful: "Wait, do you know the story of the wedding where there was that kids' entertainer Mr. Wizard?"
Namby: "Oh no! I thought you were suggesting that Daisy invite the KKK Wizard-you know, with it being the South and all."
Cue renewed laughter on all sides at the images of TWO visions in white at Daisy's wedding and a renewed discussion of the merits of "Blazing Saddles."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
My Love-Hate Relationship With Facebook
It all started my first year of law school. I was sitting in class (paying attention), and I noticed that many of my fellow first years were fixated on this web page that had photos on it. I was able to pick up the name of the application-something called Facebook. Back then, one had to have a university-based e-mail address in order to sign on (translation-no old people), but since I was able to slip under this barrier as a 34 year old graduate student, I decided to see what the fuss was about. What I discovered was a true monument to...well..MONUMENTS. A place for people to have their space a la My Space but better organized. A site where people could indulge the hidden (and not-so-hidden) voyeurs that resided within and at the same time could brag about how great they looked, the relationships they were in, and how many people were their "friends." I remember waiting on pins and needles for some people to accept my friend requests (I know, lame, but remember that law school is, in the words of Ms. Sharpe, "like high school with alcohol"), and I remember the brief feeling of self worth when one was accepted. Of course, nothing was better than RECEIVING a friend request because that just meant that someone WANTED to be your friend to the point of SEEKING YOU OUT! Quite the ego stroke.
Now, over time, I started doing a few more things through Facebook. It was a great way to keep track of people's birthdays, so I made it a point to attempt to stay up and be the FIRST person to wish them Happy Birthday. I started using the Event application to set up movie viewings and invite people to the annual Halloween blow-out. I also LOVED writing on people's walls. It was a nice way to communicate and get communication back. And then...it started becoming the BEST way to procrastinate. I wasted untold hours on Facebook...checking every 5 minutes or so because SOMETHING had to have changed, right? My friends grew from 10 to 100 to over 200 quite quickly. Do I really KNOW all of these people? No. I had put up so many pictures from my various events that I never stopped to consider how much of my privacy I had willingly given up for the sake of feeling good about my ego. I started to realize that Facebook makes it TOO easy not to maintain personal contact. I have this theory that man only ventured from his cave because he needed to find food and companionship. With the advent of the internet, after millenia of evolution, man has finally reached the point where he need never leave his cave. We have Peapod for groceries and Amazon for everything else. Facebook covers the social needs of man quite well (as do MMORPGs such as World of Warcraft). While all of this technology makes keeping in touch with people "easier", is that necessarily a good thing? Are we losing the ability to personally interact?
A few weeks ago, when I was contemplating the cessation of my blog (not gonna happen, so you are all stuck with my rants), I actually removed my Facebook profile for a week. Just a week. See, Facebook had tried to change the terms of use to read that they owned ALL of the content that we put on their site. I relented however, as having a minimal profile on Facebook with no pictures and even less information proved to be less taxing than fielding e-mails from people wondering why I "de-friended" them when, in fact, I had not. I did, however, vow to not depend on Facebook for most social interaction. I abhor communication strictly via text or internet. I understand that sometimes, this is more convenient for both parties, but I feel that it should be done as a means of last resort as opposed to the first option. I will admit that I was flattered when so many people wrote on MY wall for my birthday, and I made it a point to individually contact each person in turn to thank them (none of this blanket "thanks to everyone for their birthday greetings!" status nonsense). However, I am not going to do it anymore myself: no more wishing anyone Happy Birthday on Facebook. It is my own thing, and I do not begrudge anyone who does it. Maybe I am just being old fashioned, but I need to take a stand. Technology is forcing me to withdraw more and more from social interaction.
Now, what is amusing about this post is what happened after I started writing it. You see, I went to work early this morning to get some work done. After 4 hours at the office, I (yup) checked Facebook and found that one of my friends from high school was in town for a wedding and was in my neighborhood to boot! Thanks to Facebook, I was able to meet up with my friend and we talked as if 20 years had NOT passed since the last time we saw each other (ouch-I am old). It also turned out to be a business write off, as the husband of the couple whose wedding my friend was in town for is founding a software company in Chicago and needs an IP attorney. Can you say "business lunch"? In truth, my afternoon was only made possible by Facebook, for it was via Facebook that I was able to find her and, eventually, meet in Chicago when she lives in Raleigh, NC. I now have an open invite to stay with her and her husband the next time I am in Raleigh, and I extended the same invitation to her and her husband the next time THEYare in Chicago.
Maybe Facebook is a good thing in moderation. I dunno. Do you have any thoughts?
Now, over time, I started doing a few more things through Facebook. It was a great way to keep track of people's birthdays, so I made it a point to attempt to stay up and be the FIRST person to wish them Happy Birthday. I started using the Event application to set up movie viewings and invite people to the annual Halloween blow-out. I also LOVED writing on people's walls. It was a nice way to communicate and get communication back. And then...it started becoming the BEST way to procrastinate. I wasted untold hours on Facebook...checking every 5 minutes or so because SOMETHING had to have changed, right? My friends grew from 10 to 100 to over 200 quite quickly. Do I really KNOW all of these people? No. I had put up so many pictures from my various events that I never stopped to consider how much of my privacy I had willingly given up for the sake of feeling good about my ego. I started to realize that Facebook makes it TOO easy not to maintain personal contact. I have this theory that man only ventured from his cave because he needed to find food and companionship. With the advent of the internet, after millenia of evolution, man has finally reached the point where he need never leave his cave. We have Peapod for groceries and Amazon for everything else. Facebook covers the social needs of man quite well (as do MMORPGs such as World of Warcraft). While all of this technology makes keeping in touch with people "easier", is that necessarily a good thing? Are we losing the ability to personally interact?
A few weeks ago, when I was contemplating the cessation of my blog (not gonna happen, so you are all stuck with my rants), I actually removed my Facebook profile for a week. Just a week. See, Facebook had tried to change the terms of use to read that they owned ALL of the content that we put on their site. I relented however, as having a minimal profile on Facebook with no pictures and even less information proved to be less taxing than fielding e-mails from people wondering why I "de-friended" them when, in fact, I had not. I did, however, vow to not depend on Facebook for most social interaction. I abhor communication strictly via text or internet. I understand that sometimes, this is more convenient for both parties, but I feel that it should be done as a means of last resort as opposed to the first option. I will admit that I was flattered when so many people wrote on MY wall for my birthday, and I made it a point to individually contact each person in turn to thank them (none of this blanket "thanks to everyone for their birthday greetings!" status nonsense). However, I am not going to do it anymore myself: no more wishing anyone Happy Birthday on Facebook. It is my own thing, and I do not begrudge anyone who does it. Maybe I am just being old fashioned, but I need to take a stand. Technology is forcing me to withdraw more and more from social interaction.
Now, what is amusing about this post is what happened after I started writing it. You see, I went to work early this morning to get some work done. After 4 hours at the office, I (yup) checked Facebook and found that one of my friends from high school was in town for a wedding and was in my neighborhood to boot! Thanks to Facebook, I was able to meet up with my friend and we talked as if 20 years had NOT passed since the last time we saw each other (ouch-I am old). It also turned out to be a business write off, as the husband of the couple whose wedding my friend was in town for is founding a software company in Chicago and needs an IP attorney. Can you say "business lunch"? In truth, my afternoon was only made possible by Facebook, for it was via Facebook that I was able to find her and, eventually, meet in Chicago when she lives in Raleigh, NC. I now have an open invite to stay with her and her husband the next time I am in Raleigh, and I extended the same invitation to her and her husband the next time THEYare in Chicago.
Maybe Facebook is a good thing in moderation. I dunno. Do you have any thoughts?
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