Scrambled Eggs

Have you ever had the feeling like you're moving through pudding every time you take a step?  Like someone cracked your head open like an egg and scrambled your brains?  Like you're wearing a heavy pair of invisible oven mitts?  Like your vision is constantly clouded, like looking through a wall of steam?

Maybe my analogies are specific to me, but I know we've all been sick.  This one is just surprising because other than being sluggish and exhausted, I don't really have other symptoms.  Maybe I'm stressed or I over-exerted myself when I shoveled snow on Sunday and I just need to recuperate.  Maybe I caught a bug and I'll be puking my guts out and wishing I was dead in a few days.  For now, I'm experiencing life in a way that makes me think of kitchen-related similes.

Blizzard Aftermath

When I went out to my car yesterday morning, it was mostly cleared of snow.  The work that I had done on Sunday was mostly focused on the sides near the doors and the rear that would block me from backing out of my space.  When the plows finally came Monday evening, they took care of the rest.

At least, that's how it appeared.  However, once I was back in front of my car, I saw that the hood of my car had a pile of snow on it that was over three feet tall (that was connected to an even large pile on the adjacent hill) and the wind had blown lots of snow under my car.  I turned on the engine to heat things up in the hopes that would make it easier to get going.  The weather has been pretty warm since the blizzard, so my windows weren't frosted over, which helped.  After a few minutes, I decided to try backing out.  The snow under my car had made a sort of tall hump that prevented me from getting much traction: I would back up and my tires would spin.  I ended up rocking the car back and forth (backing up, braking, following forward, then backing up with the natural momentum of the car) and finally got free.  I still had to clear off a bunch of snow from the hood, but the worst was over.

The roads were all pretty bad.  I live in a suburb of Baltimore and most streets have multiple lanes, but in nearly every case, only one lane was cleared.  At first I was mad that city crews hadn't worked harder, but then I realized that we got 32 inches of snow in a day and a half.  To put that in perspective, Baltimore County received 42 inches of snow in all of 2015.  The resources to deal with this much snow just didn't exist.  The fact that I made it to work at all was kind of amazing.

Dealing with the snow has been a hassle, sure, but I haven't been in danger, so I really have nothing to complain about.

Tuesdays with Media: Family Values

I wrote a new short story that you can read here.  It's a sequel to "Natural Living," a story I wrote a few years ago.

Community Outreach

As predicted, there was a lot of snow.  My guess is that the area outside of my apartment got a little over two feet of snow.  I was safe in my apartment and I never lost power or access to water.  Due to the extreme amount of snow in such a sort period of time, church was cancelled.

Sunday afternoon, I ventured out to take a look at the snow around my car.  It was packed in deep and I didn't have a shovel.  (I found out on Thursday evening that the maintenance crew of my apartment would plow the roads and driving sections of the parking lots, but they would not unbury our cars.  I tried to find a store still selling snow shovels, but they had already been picked over by the time I arrived.)  I went outside ready to use a snow scraper as best as I could, when I saw that the whole building was outside shoveling.  I went back in and grabbed some cookies I had baked the night before -- not with anything in mind for them, I was just bored -- and offered them to my neighbors.  Almost immediately, someone lent me a shovel.

I worked on the snow for about two hours, but eventually gave up with my car still trapped.  The reason?  I have the option to work from home today (of which I'm taking advantage) while many of my neighbors don't.  If I were to completely liberate my car, I'd almost certainly cover someone else's car or at least block their way out.  I decided to walk away and save my back.  Plus, the forecast calls for rain on Tuesday, which may take care of the problem for me.

The best part of this situation was that I had the chance to be a part of a community.  I don't make a point to talk to my neighbors, but it was nice to see that the kindness I showed was quickly reciprocated.

White Out

The forecast for Maryland for the next couple of days is between one and three feet snow.  That's right, feet.  As in, 12-36 inches of snow in about 36 hours.

Yikes.

Thankfully, I'm all stocked up with food, I have a week's worth of water in case my pipes freeze, and my heat is gas powered, so even if I lose power, I should still be warm.  I'll be very surprised if things get that bad, but I'm prepared for the worst.

So much for a mild winter ...

Irreplaceable

Yesterday at work, I took a picture of one of the lab technicians posed to like he was working (because what he was really working on at the time required he just sit at a computer).  The picture is for an upcoming ad and I had him look through a microscope, which I thought looked very scientificky.  As I was framing the shot and getting in the right position, the lab tech, Sean, commented that I have a lot of jobs in our office: technical writer, photographer, and videographer.  I smiled and confirmed that, yes, I utilize a lot of different skills for the company and it was all part of my plan to ensure my own job security.

"Yeah," I said, "I do a lot of different jobs, but that means I'll be harder to replace.  If they lose me, they'll have to hire three people to do all my jobs."

I have never felt more secure in at any other job than I do now, so job security's not really on my mind, but it's still a good idea to not just do your job well, but do a wide range of jobs well.  And the truth is of the matter is, the more I do for Danfoss, the more irreplaceable I'll be.

Tuesdays with Media: (Don't) Drop the Bass

On Friday, I bought a bass guitar.

It's a four-string Squire Telecaster bass (without a pick-guard) made by Fender, featuring both P- and J-style pickups.  What all that means is that it's a low-end bass made by a company known for the quality of their guitars and it can be used to play either rock or jazz.

I bought it to help keep me from getting depressed.  As I've stated before, coming home to an empty apartment can be difficult, so to combat those feelings of loneliness, I decided I should pick up a hobby that requires me to learn a new skill.  I figured that an instrument would be a good fit and I picked the bass because it's portable and learning to read music for it will also help me when I sing, since I usually sing bass.  Also, since I know the basics of standard guitar playing, I reasoned that most of those skills would transfer to the bass, meaning I wouldn't be starting from scratch.

I looked up bass guitars on Craigslist and this one looked like a good fit.  (One weird thing about basses is that they're available in varieties with more or fewer strings.  Four strings is the most common, followed by five strings, but they're also available with as many as nine strings, though those are pretty rare.  I wanted one with four strings because it most closely resembles the double-bass from the Big Band days).  I emailed the owner about it, but then I found a no-name brand bass on Wal-Mart's website for about half the price.  Since it would be my first bass, having a super cheap one wouldn't be too bad.  I considered emailing the guy from Craigslist to tell him I changed my mind, but I decided to pray about it.  The Spirit told me to go with the one from Craigslist.

I was surprised that the Spirit directed me to buy that one; the answer I received wasn't "keep your word," it was "you should get the one you already emailed about."  It was at that point that I realized that the idea I had to learn how to play a new instrument had not originated from me.  I do need to be more proactive about keeping myself in good spirits and learning to play bass can be one way to do that.

After meeting the seller in a mutually convenient parking lot, I inspected the instrument.  It had a few scrapes on the back of the neck -- I'm guessing it was leaned up against a table or desk and got bumped a few times -- but otherwise it was in good condition.  The man said it was his son's, but he hardly played it, so it was time for it to go.  I paid him for it and drove home, so excited I was giddy.

Remember when I said that the few skills I had on guitar would transfer to the bass?  Turns out, they don't.  The strings are much thicker and are a lot harder to hold down, you hold the neck differently in order to reach all the strings, and you pluck the strings with your first two fingers instead of picking or strumming them.  It's been tough, but I'm earning my callouses and I can already kind of play a blues scale.  I've got a long way to go, but I'm making progress.

It feels a little weird to start learning a new instrument when I'm in my thirties, but I know this is something that will help me and be fun at the same time.

Fully Stocked

My current workout routine has me doing heavy weight in order to bulk up.  Lifting weights, however, is only one part of getting bigger: I also have to eat a lot of protein.  And since I want to bulk up without getting fat, I have to cut carbs and fat from my diet to make room for the extra protein.  If that wasn't complicated enough, I won't allow myself to eat meat more than once a day in order to better obey the Word of Wisdom.

In order to simplify things, I decided to buy and cook a bunch of chicken breasts, freeze them, and defrost and reheat them as needed.  How much is "a bunch" of chicken breasts?  A dozen.  I had so much meat that I needed to buy a second baking pan to cook it all at once.  After it was all cooked, I chopped it all up and used my new kitchen scale (that I got last week) to make five ounce portions (which constitutes about one sixth of my daily protein needs).  When it was all over, I had twenty portions.  All but one went in the freezer; the final one went in the fridge to be used this evening.

The whole process took much longer than I anticipated, but at least I can rest easy knowing that I won't have to cook any more meat for nearly two weeks.

Positivity's a Plus

The other day I was talking to someone who had had a really rough day.  It seemed like disasters were dog-piling on top of them in a very short period of time.  I listened, allowing them to vent out their frustrations (which did seem to help quite a bit) and then I pointed out how good may come from what they experienced.  I didn't tell them that what happened wasn't difficult or that other people had it worse, I simply tried to show them that the admittedly bad experiences could lead to positive outcomes.

I was so surprised by what I had done that I pointed it out to them.  They said that I had made some good points, which was nice, but I really hadn't expected to be the one looking on the sunny side.  It's no secret that things have been difficult for me lately.  Living alone can be soul-crushingly depressing sometimes.  I have friends and I stay in touch with family, but I still have to come home to an empty apartment.  During the week, I do okay because I have work to keep me occupied, but unless I have something planned for the weekends, I may not even go outside.  I missed church on Sunday because I just couldn't force myself to get out of bed.  I'm working on a plan to prevent that from happening again, but it's difficult to be vigilant against something as ever present as loneliness.

However, as the conversation I had proved, if I'm in the right mind, my default is to be an optimist.  I think that's been a part of my personality since I was a kid, but I've also nurtured it, especially in recent years.  I am struggling with bouts of depression right now, but I also know that what I'm experiencing will prove to be an important part of who I am later on.  If nothing else, I can say that I'm motivated to stay healthy in other ways, like eating properly, exercising regularly, and studying the scripture daily.

We may have tough days or even tough years, but I believe they will lead to a better future if we choose the right path.

(In)convenient Home Delivery

One of the ways that online shopping advertises itself as being more convenient than shopping in brick-and-mortar stories is that you simply click a few links, enter your payment and shipping information, and your items are delivered right to your door.

Except when they're not.  I ordered some items from Amazon recently and, because I pay for the additional Prime membership, I automatically got upgraded to two-day shipping.  So, I came home on Friday expecting my package, only to find a note from UPS saying that they didn't deliver anything since no one was home.  I've had to go through this sort of thing in the past, so I signed the back of the note on the "X" and put the note back on my door on Monday morning.

When I got home on Monday, there was nothing.  No package, no note: nothing.  I become worried that the package got lost over the weekend or that one of my neighbors took the box right off of my door mat.  I looked up my order on Amazon to get the tracking number to see what happened on UPS' end.  It turns out, that they weren't asking for my signature with the earlier note; they just let me know that they would try again on the next weekday.  When no one answered the door on Monday, they took my box to an Access Point, which was located in a convenience store, though not one that was particularly close.  I called ahead and confirmed that they had my package before I left.  Once there, the process of getting my box was easy enough and I was out the door in less than five minutes.

Here's the thing: part of the reason I ordered online was to avoid going anywhere.  While I had other motivations (picking exactly the items I wanted, getting a better deal than was available in local stores, etc.), staying at home was still part of the deal.  And while I understand why UPS did what they did, they should have left me a note the second time to tell me that I would have to pick up my package.

The moral here is that I don't like being inconvenienced.  And these days, isn't the act avoiding inconveniences the American way?

Tuesdays with Media: the Music of David Bowie

I found out yesterday afternoon that music legend David Bowie died on Sunday at the age of 69, after a battle with cancer.  I am ill-equipped to discuss Mr. Bowie, whose real name is David Jones, as a person (as I did not know him) or his music (as I only know his most popular songs), but I am saddened by his passing.

I discovered Bowie's music sometime after my mission, my first exposure being to the soulful "Space Oddity":

If you look close, you can see that Bowie has one blue eye and one green eye.

I was struck by the strange, sad ending and the fact that he was basically singing a duet with himself.  The song was originally written as a rebuttal to Elton John's "Rocket Man."  I always felt that Bowie won that particular argument.

One song that I discovered inadvertently was "The Man Who Sold the World":

I first heard the song as a cover by the band Nirvana.  It was a popular recording from their Unplugged special on MTV and the band's frontman, Kurt Cobain, even credits the song as being "a David Bowie song," but that part is often cut out when it's played on the radio (it's even cut from the video to which I linked).  By chance, I caught the final line one day and decided to seek out the original.  While I appreciate what Nirvana was able to do with the song, my favorite has been Bowie's version ever since I first heard it.

 As time went on, I continued to stumble across or seek it out Bowie's work.  Whether it was the upbeat "Changes," the funkadelic "Fame," the classic rock-inspired "Suffragette City," or the moody dance song "Let's Dance," I never came across a song that was bad (neither "Young Americans" or "I'm Afraid of Americans" are my favorites, but I also can't deny the talent behind them).

My favorite Bowie song, after "Space Oddity," is probably the contagiously happy-sounding "Golden Years":

The lyrics act as a bit of a juxtaposition to the happy melody -- to me, the song is about one person giving their all for the happiness of another, with no indication that either is actually happy.  That may not be the intended meaning, but that's what I got out of it.

David Bowie released a farewell album, Blackstar, the week before his passing, with multiple songs about his impending death.  I've listened to it twice and I'm starting to enjoy it more, but it's bizarre.  It's a weird fusion of electronica and jazz, with rock and folk elements thrown in as well.  I liked it better on my second pass, so maybe it's the kind of thing that needs to grow on you.

As I said at the outset, I'm ill-qualified to review David Bowie's music, but it felt appropriate for me to share some of my personal thoughts and feelings about the music from a talented man who died too young and will be well-remembered.

Take a Stand

On Friday evening, I met the missionaries in my ward for a teaching appointment.  I almost didn't accept their invitation to go with them -- I was really annoyed with them because they almost exclusively text me and they're really vague, which means that I have to text them several times asking questions before I know what's going on -- but I didn't want to punish their investigator for their faults.

When we got to the place of our appointment, the investigator met us with warmth and enthusiasm.  At first, I thought that meant that he was accepting the gospel, but I later decided that he was just being friendly.  The lesson was unusual and the Elders seemed lost every time we veered off course.  I did my best to pick up their slack, which they thanked me for afterwards.  The gentleman we were teaching, Dan, was uncomfortable with declaring anything with certainty.  The Elders brought up the apostasy and Dan said that there probably some bits of truth somewhere in the world.  I pointed out the New Testament makes clear the importance of Apostles and that without them, we don't have a complete church and while Dan didn't say he disagreed with that sentiment, I noticed that he didn't agree, either.

Later on, the Elders ask Dan to read the Book of Mormon, which he agreed to.  They then asked if he reads and prays about it and gains a testimony, would he be baptized -- which is all part of the pattern that I was taught to use while I was on my mission.  When the challenge was extended, Dan became very uncomfortable.  He talked about how he was Catholic and how that was fine and how our church was fine and how other churches were fine; different churches existed because that's what people needed.  Basically, he was espousing a form of moral relativism.  He seemed to be afraid of committing to any belief, perhaps because if he committed, he'd feel obligated to live by it.

In the end, Dan promised to read the Book of Mormon (with the caveat that he'd take his time and it might take him more than a year to finish) and the Elders asked him to call them when he was ready to talk more about it.  I was surprised that they let him go so easily, but maybe they felt a victory just in him accepting to read.

I'm happy that I went with the Elders to teach because it was good to be reminded that we need to take hard stances on our beliefs.  We can still be polite about it with other people, but we need to decide for ourselves what we believe and stand by it.

Language Freak

My boss, Magda, is originally from Poland and, while her English skills are impressive for a non-native speaker, she still struggles with phrasing from time to time.  I've told her that I can answer any English questions she has and lately she's been taking me up on my offer.  In fact, earlier this week, she was so impressed with my skills that struggled to find the words to compliment me.  She said, "I don't want to call you the office 'language freak'; I just know that you're the expert."  I suggested that we just stick with "technical writer," since it's my job title and she laughed, apparently surprised that she forgot the obvious choice.

I don't think of my abilities as making me a freak, but it does make me stand out.  Also, with my extensive knowledge, I have a responsibility to improve the writing around me as much as I can.  I call it my "write-y sense" and it tingles. Sometimes a lot.

Still, it's never bad when your boss asks you for help because you're better at something than they are.

The Challenges of Vehicle Ownership

Things are much better for me now than they were the same time last year: I've been employed with Danfoss for over a year, I live close to my job, I'm living within my means, and I have a much nicer car that's also in my name.  And while that last point is true, it was tested a bit last week.

After a good workout at the gym, I stopped at a grocery store on the way home to pick up a few essentials.  It was an uneventful trip, until I got in the car to go home.  I turned the key, but the engine wouldn't start.  It seemed like a low battery, except that my headlights, dome light, and wipers all worked.  I called the closest repair shop and asked them if they could see me that night.  They couldn't, but they invited me bring my car in the morning (the man to whom I spoke suggested that the working lights and wipers could mean that the battery charge was too low to start the car but high enough to operate the peripheral).  In the meantime, I still needed to get home.

I called my friend Erin and asked if she had a set of jumper cables.  She didn't, but her parents did and they were on their way to the church for tithing settlement and were happy to swing by to give me a jump.  After about fifteen minutes, they arrived and we hooked up our car batteries.  My car started right up.  I thanked them for their help before I drove around for twenty minutes in an attempt to charge the battery.

The next morning, my car wouldn't start again.  I didn't want to trouble my neighbors, so I walked over to the main office and asked if for a member of the maintenance staff to come and give me a jump.  The guy in the office is a bit of tool and said that he would pass the message along, but refused to give me an estimate on when I would be helped.  Two hours later, one of the maintenance guys knocked on my door.  He was very polite and more than happy to jump my car.  I, of course, went straight to the repair shop.

Since my car isn't that old and hasn't had any trouble with the battery before, I paid extra for an electrical system diagnostic, which simply proved that the problem was with the battery.  The guy working the desk was the manager and felt bad that I needlessly paid for the service, so he gave me a discount on the battery itself -- not for the full price of the diagnostic, but I still appreciated the gesture.  It took nearly two hours before my car was ready, but it hasn't had anymore trouble starting.

While this was a frustrating experience, I'm grateful that I have friends on whom I can rely for help and that I have the means to take care of unexpected emergencies like this when they arise.  When the last car I drove started breaking down, it proved to be a huge burden.  This time, it was merely an annoyance.

Tuesdays with Media: Humilia

I wrote a one-page script that can be found here.  You should read it.

Trivial Experience, Profound Lesson

The other day while I was at the gym, I needed a bench in order to perform my next exercise.  Unfortunately, all of the benches were in use.  I started thinking about if I should change my routine and do a different exercise next when I was prompted to pray that a bench become free.  I hesitated, not because the request was unimportant, but because I felt unworthy to ask for help.  Since I've been on vacation for the past couple of weeks, my daily routine has been disrupted and I've been neglecting my scripture study (which I usually do in the morning as I'm getting ready for work).  As I was thinking that I shouldn't pray, the Spirit prompted me to do so anyway, reminding me that I didn't need to be worthy to pray.

I said the prayer and a bench was free in less than a minute.  The experience was pretty silly, but the lesson was pretty important: we never need to worry about our worthiness when it comes to talking to our Father in Heaven.  I may have learned the lesson under trivial circumstances, but the lesson was still a good one.