Story Archive - August 2004

Karaoke, Big Finale (08/31/2004)

It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book. - Friedrich Nietzsche

The second song was over and I was full of myself. Feeling ambitious, I started looking through the show tunes section again. Earlier I had singled out One Night in Bangkok to be my big finish. It has a minute and a half instrumental introduction and almost half the song is basically talking quickly. According the formula I had come up with after the second song, I knew it would be a total disaster. I shelved the idea. None of the other show tunes were really jumping out at me. There aren't a lot of male solos out there.

As I was searching, one of the German employees did a superb rendition of 99 Luftballoons and I was encouraged. I instantly thought of the one Spanish song which I know all of the lyrics to: Ricky Martin's La Copa de la Vida. Don't scoff! I was introduced to this song back when it was the FIFA theme. It's incredible, and I promise the original lyrics in the Spanish version are immensely better than the altered lyrics in the English version. It doesn't have any of the meaningless, "Tonight we're going to celebrate" crap. "Para vivir, hay que luchar. Un corazon, para ganar." That's great stuff. How can you not shiver when you think of that and the soccer world cup?

I write up my ticket and I'm in route to drop it in the bin when Vitamin T intercepts me. He asks me what my big show tune finish is going to be, and I feel a little dirty as I admit that I had picked a Ricky Martin song. He'd already done Suddenly, Seymoore and Maria earlier that evening and would have none of my lame attempts to escape. He has found, "the most fabulous duet" for us to sing. He puts in the ticket refusing to tell me what it is. I knew it wasnn't among the songs we had jovially practiced in the office earlier in the week, but he assured me it was something new.

Finally, we get called onto stage. I have no clue what song it's going to be and the bar is crowded with people. How I wish I were drunk like him. The music kicks off and I know it within two notes. I laugh. It's perfect. Here's a brief capture of the main verse:

J.Jiggy: Only you...

Vitamin T: I am the Starlight.

J.Jiggy: Have the power within you.

Vitamin T: I can achieve

J.Jiggy: Just believe in yourself

Vitamin T: anything

Well, you get the idea. What a great ending.

The day after karaoke I came into the office to learn a horrible secret. Some of the songs we sang at the karaoke bar were recorded and placed out onto the network drive. None were properly named, just "Track 01.mp3" and the like. I started listening and found my awful rendition of Devil Went Down to Georgia, but not the other two songs. So for all time the office has a record of my bad song, without my decent song and my big finish. Hey, I can at least make an ass out of myself with some style. Though you can't see my incredible dancing, my favorite part is when the devil's backup piano comes in an you can hear a colleague yell "dance, mother[bleep], dance."

Devil Snippet MP3

Today I also learned that one of the losers who refused to get up and sign is working on making a collage of the entire evening. He DJs on the side and has some skill with a sound editor. I had foolishly thought that what happens in the karaoke bar, stays in the karaoke bar.

Nails (08/30/2004)

I can never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. - Arthur Conan Doyle

Either I am using an old story telling technique of having a long aside or I am way too busy at work to compose anything of decent length or a small flesh eating mite has gotten into my brain.

Here is a quick story from my childhood that I vividly remember. I was, perhaps, around six or eight at the time.

Me: "Can I go outside and play?"

Daddy: "Sure. Let me cut your nails."

Me: "You cut my nails yesterday!"

Daddy: "Then it will be real quick for me trim then again."

Me: "Mom doesn't have to cut her nails! I shouldn't have to cut mine!"

Daddy: "Well, your mother doesn't climb trees in the front yard, so she doesn't have to."

Me: "Fine then, I'm going to go play Atari."

Yes, it is all because of my father's obsessive-compulsive need for me to have short nails that I am not a Olympic class athlete. Yet I would rather stay in and play Atari with long nails than suffer through the indignity of daddy trimming them.

Intermission (08/28/2004)

I'm enjoying my morning cup of Sumatra at the Zocola when I hear Konya wa Hurricane come up over the in-house speakers. I'm a little confused, so I pull up the Zocola shared music collection on iTunes and do a quick search on "Hurricane" and nothing comes back. Tim (the owner) takes a seat next to mine.

Tim: "You recogize the music?"

Jordan: "Are you playing from my library?"

Tim: "Yeah, I'm playing a list called Sonic Caffeine."

Jordan: "You're awesome."

Tim: "Hey, it's your music. You're the awesome one."

Jordan: "I was just about to leave."

Tim: "I think you're obligated to stay until the playlist ends. Or at least leave your computer."

I was going to go visit a friend, but I guess I can delay that for a little while at least.

Karaoke, Part Two (08/27/2004)

Rapids are only scary about the first twenty or fifty times. - Lori Makarick

I've got the slip filled out for my second song and I'm ready to do my show tune; it's "One Night In Bangkok." I figure I can get the show tune people, the fans of 80's music and Abba (or at least bb) fans all in well fell swoop. At least, the bb fans. I was walking up to drop my slip into the bin when one of the ladies from work cuts me off en route.

She had suffered a similar defeat as mine in her attempt to sing, "End of the World." It's also a fast song where the tracking doesn't quite keep pace with the words. I can see in her eyes she's utterly spent and is dreading trying to do another two songs. She's an amateur musician (guitar and vocals); it's her first time at karaoke, and she is devastated she wasn't amazing. I'm painfully aware of the fact that having a decent of musical experience under one's belt doesn't equate to being a good karaoke singer.

It took her a fair amount of alcohol to do the first song, and since it failed miserably in her mind, she's unwilling to try again. I suggest a duet, something where we would have no problem keeping up. "We both failed due to technical problems last time. I want an opportunity to fail because I'm tone death." I was joking. She agreed.

I think it was Bill Murray who said, "when a hot blonde asks you to sing karaoke with her, you say yes." Well, it was something like that anyways. So we flip through the songbook and she refuses show tune after show tune. Finally, she picks what she wants, "500 Miles." It's a good fun song, I know most of the words, and so I agree to it.

She writes down our ghetto names, J.Jiggy and T$$, and we wait. We wait about an hour, which is more than enough time for her to loose her buzz and for my nerves to start sapping my strength. Finally they call our song and we go up on stage. Our sweet coworkers start heckling. "You guys going to be able to keep up with the words this time?" You know, it's exactly what should do to two stage-frightened peopled who are trying not to go into a nervous seizure.

T$$ does exactly what she promised she wouldn't and chickens out from singing duet-style with me and starts by only doing very simple backup vocals. I take another one for the team. Pride is a good mistress, but from time to time I make due without out. So I toss my pride aside like a used tissue.

The song ends and Pride comes running back to embrace me. It went well. Let me pat myself on the back for a moment (pat. pat). Towards the end of the song, my colleague did decide to join in with me. Once we got it down, we started playing off each other's performance.

We receive honest compliments from the audience after our routine. I had a revelation that hadn't occurred to me before. Talking songs are hard to do well. It's far better to do songs that allow you to belt out, even if you're off key. You have to throw down and give it your all, and songs with lots of talking and instrumental breaks just don't allow for that.

To be continued. I still have one song left.

Karaoke, Part One (08/26/2004)

Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive toward a larger goal; Our little lives don't count at all! - Enjolras (Red and Black, Les Miserables)

The plan was for the whole office to leave at 4pm for a karaoke bar on Market called The Mint. 4pm rolls around and the weekly updates for work aren't finished. There is one form left that is causing Internet Explorer to crash when it shows a validation error. I believe it has something to do with our client's over-aggressive use of style sheets. This is, of course, only discovered at the last minute. We should just push it back, since we weren't given sufficent time to develop, but I do what I do all too often; I take one for the team.

(Aside: Teams at my former place of employment would often give the "Martyr Award" to people would be willing to sacrifice things to make life easier on others. I didn't really like such a public reward for this type of behavior. The fact that a Martyr Award was so common demonstrated a pattern of failure where someone would have to step up to take one for the team.)

Back at my new job, I tell everyone I'm going to stay until I get the last update pushed out and I send the cars off to the bar and I stay behind alone in the office to get it sorted out. 4:30 rolls around. 5:30 rolls around and I'm done. Of course, I don't have a car. All I've got is my trusty electric scooter that I jump on fly down to Market Street to grab the train. 6:00pm rolls around and I'm there.

I've missed the stint of really shy people who got a song out of the way BEFORE the crowd of strangers started to arrive. I'm petrified with fear; also, I don't have the tender caress of alcohol to take the edge off. Ever since I tried to get a nice version of me singing Piano Man in Garage Band I have known that I am complete tone deaf.

I pick, "Devil Came Down to Georgia" and stew in fear for a quarter of an hour. My song comes up and I sing. I fail. There are plenty of technical problems with the lyrics not tracking properly to where they should be in the song. I didn't think about it before singing, but there are plenty of instrumental breaks where I had the opportunity to just sit and awkwardly wait wishing people weren't staring at me. I did my best to line dance during these painful segments. It was a miserable disappointment, but I kept a smile on my face the whole time. I would say that it is exactly what I feared I would pull off. Luckily the audience didn't "boo" me off the stage. That would have completed the nightmare.

The song finally ends—I'm pretty sure it's around twenty minutes long—and I take my bow and head offstage. I think, "you better take it up with pride. Don't be like one of the losers who spends the next half-hour complaining about technical problems, or a bad cold or something like that."

Vitamin T says he's not going sing a show tune duet with me, and is going to sing with the other really shy people instead. I take one for the team, and I let him. I still wanted to do a show tune. I write down my next song.

To be continued. There are two songs left.

Coding in my Sleep (08/25/2004)

Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is against me, but deep down I know that's not true. Some smaller countries are neutral. - Robert Orben

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the nerds.

A friend was working on a JSP that processes a long form and generates an e-mail message. That friend was copy-pasting a ton of a functionality for repopulating form elements on a validation error, when he or she realized he or she could put it into a reusable method at the top of the JSP. So, he or she started consolidating the code when I WOKE UP! I mean, he or she woke up. Crap. I just gave it away. Okay, it was me.

Afterward, I just stared at the ceiling, complete unsure what to think.

Show Tunes (08/24/2004)

The only thing better than singing is more singing. - Ella Fitzgerald

This is why the people at an advertising agency are awesome:

Vitamin T: Hey, we're going to karaoke this week, will anyone sing with me? Jordan? You look you're just waiting for music to burst out.

J.Jiggy: I only do show tunes. Mostly when I'm hiding from people.

Vitamin T: A duet? Sure! I love it! How about (dramatic pause...)

Vitamin T: Please sign your book on the way out the door and that will be all, if we need you will call, but I don't think that's likely somehow.

He looks at me expectently. I crack...

J.Jiggy: Ohh, but it's sad when a love affair dies, but we had pretended enough, it's best that we both stopped fooling ourselves.

Vitamin T: Which means, get stuffed.

(laughter)

J.Jiggy: Dude, I don't want to be the woman of the duet. That's not a very famous song either; what about (dramatic pause...)

J.Jiggy: In all your fantasy you always knew, that man and mystery

Vitamin T: Were both in you.

J.Jiggy and Vitamin T (in duet): And in this laberynth, where night is blind,

Liquid Tang (from the peanut gallery): Harmonize dammit!

J.Jiggy and Vitamin T (in duet (and harmonizing)): The Phantom of the Opera is (t)here

(laughter)

Vitamin T: Okay, I can sing like a girl, but then you have to as well. I've got it. Have you ever seen Chess?

J.Jiggy: I can do that. But I want to sing the Svetlana part.

Vitamin T: Done. (dramatic pause...)

Vitamin T: Wasn't it good?

J.Jiggy: Oh so good.

Vitamin T: Wasn't he fine?

J.Jiggy: Oh so fine.

Vitmain T: Isn't it madness.

J.Jiggy and Vitamin T (in duet): He can't be mine.

And yes, we proceed to finish the song, with the heavy jeering and rotten vegetable throwing of the other people in the room. Still, we have to be ready for our big perfomrance at the karaoke bar.

Screen Shots (08/22/2004)

I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea if by random whim, one occurs to me. - I Should Be Allowed to Think (They Might Be Giants)

I nearly had an out of place geek-out on Saturday. I was out with a bunch of friends and the other partial computer geek there made a comment about "RSS" and I started to go geek, but then reined it in. Why? Because he wouldn't have appreciated some of the subtle nuisances that require Apple geekness. Plus, it would have been totally lost on the rest of the table. Many present were art geeks. Some were anime geeks. But to truly appreciate this requires an Apple geek; that is a very selective breed.

There's a cool tool for OSX called Konfabulator that lets you throw lots of widgets around your screen. I'm mostly using them for heads up display style floating widgets with just a tiny amount of opacity--a high amount of transparency if you prefer--to display important things in my life.

Well, I had some spare time on Thursday, so I wrote my own Konfabulator widget that integrates with my hosted RSS aggregator. The widget is defined in XML and uses JavaScript to drive the visual components, AppleScript to integrate with other programs and the amalgamation with Fastbuzz is handled using Perl calling out to the Unix curl command and using regex to parse the return. This has such a high level of awesometasticity I'm still excited about it. Here's what it looks like, you can see I have four unread RSS articles:

Fastbuzz Konfab Screenshot

It's not very exiting visually, but the synergy--I hate that word--of all the disparate technologies to write a really simple tool is what excites me. I've written nearly no code behind the scenes.

Speaking of cool geek stuff. I rolled into the Zocola today and Barista Girl says, "Do you have a coffee card? Every tenth one is free." I give her a look for shock, "Umm, no. I didn't know all y'all had one of those." "Sure." She then pulls out the card and puts five stamps on it. "Well, you come here like every day, I'd say you've earned it."

I think what I really like about the Zocola is that when I fired up iTunes today there are four other shared iTunes libraries (besides the main coffee house one). What a great geeky little coffee house.

iTunes Screenshot

While I'm Out (8/19/2004)

One must never set up a murder. They must happen unexpectedlly, as in life. - Alfred Hitchcock

I don't ever want to know what the kids do while I'm at work...

Chris Loses

Bifurcating (08/17/2004)

Solitude is a comfortable enough partner. - Annie Tomlin

The first time I recall I dichotomized my life was in 8th grade. I would often take bike rides around the neighborhood and spend time day dreaming at Orville Wright Park. Being farther away from the house than Windemere Park, OWP allowed me to release my worries that a sibling, parent or other person would stumble across me. I could usually grab a swing and oscillate to my hearts content, even when seeking out seclusion.

As is my nature, the presence of other people enraptured me too much to stay withdrawn. At the park, I made a friend who absolutely no one else knew about. Not even my best friend from school at the time knew I had another best friend on the side. My parents did not know. I have a vivid memory of my brother once mentioning, "Jordan goes on long bike rides in the afternoon, and I'm not sure what he's up to." Perhaps he thought I was off being a hoodlum. I lost touch with that friend towards the end of my first year in high school. The friend moved; we both despised the phone; it was inevitable.

I am surprised in this modern age of social networking and hyperawareness that there is still so much splintering in my life. I still engage in clandestine activities that I don't want to share with my friends at large. I'm talking about personal covert activities, not just the ones that Secretary Rumsfield sends me on.

This fact came to light during a recent conversation with a friend who stated he was concerned for me because he got the impression that outside of work I merely sit at home to play video games. My gut told me to respond with a horribly defensive line like, "Are you kidding me? There is so much going on in my life that you would be awestricken by it." My spleen interrupted and suggested I say, "If playing video games in isolation makes me happy, then what the heck is wrong with that?" Finally, my mouth won the battle and said something flippant such as, "whatever, dude."

Now I will go back to bed where I can drink gin in the dark and read. End transmission

I Am Shallow (08/16/2004)

You can be edgy without showing off your boobs. - Hilary Duff

I sit down at my lovely couch in the Zocalo. I fiddle through the various magazines on the table. I'm about to take a gander at The Economist when I notice that Seventeen has Hilary on the cover. I read that instead feeling guilty the entire time.

(Aside: They are playing a "Tom's Diner" only playlist currently. I believe it is on the seventh version. This one is in German and is my favorite so far.)

Wasteful Lucubration, a.k.a. A Simple Guide to Writing Good (08/15/2004)

Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public. - Sir Winston Churchill

  1. Get inspired by wonderful idea.
  2. Write until you are 90% complete with story feeling very good about what you have done.
  3. Get frustrated that story does not convey wonderful idea from step 1.
  4. Put story in drawer and pretend you didn't start it.
  5. Feel guilty many months later and commit to finishing story.
  6. Read what you had written; determine it is mindless dribble; throw most of it away and go back to step 2.

Yellow Moons (08/10/2004)

We must distinguish between speaking to deceive and being silent to be reserved. - Voltaire

I went to two events this weekend. Both were semi-social fundraisers for organizations. The events themselves weren't much different from one another, but my demeanor at the gatherings was the two extremes of my social personality.

At Sunday's little gathering my plain side came out. There were fifty other people attending whom I didn't know. I did my best in the hour-long "socialization" portion of the event. I wandered, unable to find an opportunity for parlance that interested me. I'm not especially concerned that I didn't want to butt my nose into the conversation of people I didn't know, but I was slightly fretful that the host, whom I did know, would notice me not mingling and worry I wasn't having a good time. Eventually I noticed one other person I actually knew; he was sitting outside the building by himself feigning interest in his phone. The chum is only a friend of a friend, but the only person I recognized. So I wandered over and chatted with him for the rest of the time. There was good food, good presentations, and it supported a good cause. That's a successful outting in my mind.

Rewind to Saturday's event and my frosted side was evident. I only knew two other people in a crowd of around forty, but I fearlessly approached groups of people I didn't know and introduced myself. I had a mission to educated and inform people about some of the cinnamon and sugar of the event, and while mindless social banter doesn't appeal to me, making my sale was a bunch of fun. Later on, one of the presenters called out to me, "Jordan, do you want to say a few words?" I think he was expecting me to shyly decline, but I jumped up there next to him and talked without hesitation.

When Americans are asked what they fear the most, public speaking ranks number one ahead of such trivial fears as death and financial ruin. I don't fear public speaking. What a wonder it is. Not me. Yep. I love it. I have, many times, surprised my friends and colleagues with my enthusiasm to jump in front of a group and facilitate dialog or execute a presentation. Throw me in front of a crowd of people and I'll gladly soak up their attention. Want to hire me to make breakfast cereal metaphors for your events? I charge a hefty fee in ice cream and other sugary treats.

Probity (08/08/2004)

Pride will spit in pride's face. - Thomas Fuller

On the average Saturday when I've got nothing planned I head down to the library to expand my consciousness the old fashion way. It used to be my lazy Sunday tradition, but the poor place had some hard budget cuts recently and is no longer open on Sundays (this is the sort of thing expect Arnold to fix. Yes, I've written). There are just a few magazines there that I love and make sure to read each month.

This month a large sign went up, "Due to budget cuts we will only be renewing a small selection of magazines. Please vote for you choices at the information desk." I headed over there and the librarian (whom I think is especially cool, but I think most librarians are probably pretty cool) hands me the voting sheet which lists all the magazines with checks next to ones signifying votes for renewal. My favorite magazine, the one I actually go there to read, sits lonely without a single vote. I think for a moment that I have five unique pens in my bag and could easily add five checks next to it making it at least equal to Martha Stewart Living. Of course, I don't. That's the sort of thing that might show up on polygraph. I curse my vainglory on the way out.

Social Phobia (08/04/2004)

Well you know what? This is my ass? Kiss it. I'm leaving. - Wil Wheaton

I walked back into my team room at the office after being gone for a meeting and noticed evidence that a colleague from a different group at the company had started a process with potential detrimental affects on my team. So I ask the other teammates in the room, "Hey boys, do you know what [he] is intending to do?" They all have no clue. I quickly head out and track down this coworker. I confront him. He is verbally abusive (technically I suppose he was merely terse, but he avoided answering my question and it was frustrating). I stand my ground. He relinquishes and bitterly admitts his process would have no ill effect.

At work, for my job, I resolutely and unabashedly enter into highly tense human interaction and stand my ground to get done what I know needs to get done. I'm not sure how I do it. I don't know who that other me is that emerges when I'm in the office. In normal non-work-related social situations I'll back down in a heartbeat. I'll laugh it off and change the subject as fast as possible. I purposefully impose burdens on myself to avoid having difficult interaction with someone.

Example 1. A waiter screws up my order at a restaurant. I will consider mentioning this. My heart will begin pumping faster and the fear sets in. I will decide instead to just make the best of the wrong order. Why? I know he will take offense and kill me on the spot or at least put rat poison in my food.

Example 2. I walk into a store to find an item. I do not know where to look. I will look around for a little while and if I can't find it and no one directly offers to help me, I will leave. Why? I know any employee I approach will be busy doing something else, help me out of obligation, and be fired for neglecting her original task.

Example 3. An old friend invites me to drinks after work. She begins talking about her new startup that she wants me to come work for. I tell her I am not interested and she begins to pressure me for my reasons. I do not give my reasons. I attempt to change the subject. This leaves us in an ambiguous and awkward social setting. Why? I know she will think me uncompromising and tell everyone in my industry that I am arrogant ass.

Example 4. I constantly spend time with a young lady I fancy. I have never told her this fact nor have I attempted any type of osculation. Why? I know she is oblivious to this fact, and if I reveal it to her she will not reciprocate, our friendship will become strained, and she will never speak to me again.

All My Best Friends (08/02/2004)

They're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone. - Piano Man (Billy Joel)

I have always felt alone in crowds of people I don't know. I still go to them. I make concerted efforts. I went to the open mic night at the Zocola on Friday. I swung by a museum on Sunday. On Monday night I went to the SFPUG and hung out with fellow mobile nerds. Yet in these crowds I am alone.

At home, in the cool evening air of the bay, there is not another person around, yet I'm not lonely. The only people on this balcony are my best friends.

Give Me Book (08/01/2004)

I never thought I'd be so well cared for by the president and the Republicans in Congress. I almost sent them a thank you note for my tax cuts... - Bill Clinton

Bill is rich. It was a big part of his little speech last week. He was complaining that he has too much money these days and more should go back to the people. So why is his book so expensive? I want to read it, but I'm not going to spend that kind of money. As an eBook it's about $22 these days and as an audiobook (abridged, alas) it's also about $22, though a couple quarters cheaper. It's not available in the library general section yet. Come on Bill! Please lower the price so a struggling artist in San Francisco is able to afford that thing. Some days even I bore myself with my querulous rants.