Walls come tumbling down

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June 2002

July 24th 2002 21:16CDT

Woohoo - I'm home.

Call the undertaker. The PC at home's hard disk has given up the ghost and it is emitting quite the most nauseating clunks and failing every thirty seconds. No problem you might think. Kenny is a techie. He'll have back-ups. Wrong. Last one he did was in November 2001.

So we're in the market for a new PC. Favorite is Gateway at the moment. It never rains.

Every time we leave the house for more than a week, something breaks. Last time it was the air-conditioner. The time before that it was the washing machine.

Busy work day.

July 23rd 2002 16:47EDT

Phew. Panic over. I have established (admittedly by own diagnosis) that this chest thing is actually a back problem. Somewhere in my spine there is a trapped nerve or summot similar. Anyway one ibuprofen and a few minutes later and all is well once more. What a relief. OK, so I now feel stupid and a hypochondriac.

I've done what I can in Binghamton so I'll be home tomorrow and I suppose a trip to the doctor's will ensue. They, of course, will tell me off for being underweight, drinking too much and smoking. I, of course, will tell them to fix my back. That's how this relationship should work. They are a service that you pay for just like any other. If I go to a book store and ask for a copy of 'On the road', I don't expect to be told that in addition to that book I need to buy x, y and z (even though Amazon try to do it). I treat doctors like I do car mechanics. I trust neither and am skeptical about their advice.

It's a tough nut to crack. In England, where healthcare is a given via the NHS, it's easy to have something overlooked because there isn't enough money to go around. In the US, where you pay for it in spades, they want to find things wrong to screw you and your medical insurance company out of every last dime they can. I love the idea of the NHS but I realize how impractical it is.

So, we've established that I hate doctors. I hate all things medical and all things mechanical. But I will be asking them to help me stop smoking. The patches have failed, the chewing gum has failed. I have a very good friend in the UK who was prescribed a drug that failed to make it as an antidepressant but was found to desensitize the area of your brain that craves nicotine. He stopped smoking. I wonder whether it's available in the good old US of A.

OMG - I've just had a hit on my website from Tehran. What does this mean?

role	Takta.net Registry
address	Takta Co.
address	#14,
address	Mollasadra Ave.
address	Chamran Express Way
address	Tehran
address	IRAN

That's me going underground for a while! I really shouldn't say Allah on a web page.

July 23rd 2002 04:45EDT

So this morning's alarm call came in the form of the continued chest pain at 04:00. Nice. Just what you need when you're in the biggest measurement study you've ever done. I desperately need some pain-killers. I never carry any and then curse myself when I need them and don't have them. Ooh, what I wouldn't give for an ibuprofen now.

Oh, and I've been meaning to say this for a while...if you're going to send me spam, please do so in English. I don't understand Korean or Japanese.

Today's music: Sarah McLachlan.

July 22nd 2002 19:45EDT

I am currently in quite a lot of pain. My chest burns and when I move anyway with my upper torso, it's excruciating. I just know it's smoking related along with stress. Stupid cigarettes. I really must go and see a quack even though I have no faith in them. But I do fear the worst. In future blogs, I hope to be remembered as a hypochondriac not as the guy who knew he was on his way out.

There's too much hurt without physical pain. The death of my grandfather just after my O-Levels changed my life forever. I loved that man more than life itself. If ever there were a competition for most eccentric bugger of a grandad, he would have won it; coal miner, moped rider, gambler. My interest in genealogy is purely down to an attempt to find someone in that branch of the family who replicates him. He was one in a million or more. I still remember him buying my brother and I a size 4 cricket bat when we were kids...that was a delight and if I was old enough at the time to thank him, I really would have done so. Only now do I realize how much he gave to me.

And then, when I turned thirteen, he took me to the pub. And we drank together and I loved him even more. And then he left me. And he left my mum. And Lord knows how many times I've cried since. I miss him. I still cry when I see this picture:

Yes - that's me on the left. I've been told by professional psychologists that I will never get over his death. I loved him too much.

July 22nd 2002 05:43EDT

I awoke at 04:20 this morning. I tried to go back to sleep but the prospect of work and what I need to accomplish in the next few days kept me awake. I swear I used to be able to sleep. Maybe today I'll manage breakfast?

I've now been in the Holiday Inn for 8 nights with another two (maybe three) to go. It's nice enough and during my stay, they have enabled DSL on the 'Executive' floors but it's getting old now. I want to go home to my family (and 48Kbps connection).

I've already motored through one pot of coffee and about 5 cigarettes (and I wonder why my chest hurts). Note to self: give up smoking idiot.

I'm growing increasingly fascinated with this blogging malarchy (which means it will consume me for a couple of weeks and then be forgotten). The technology behind some of these pages and the amount of effort people put into the them is amazing. I sit here with a (cough) Microsoft HTML editor and type away...doesn't really seem fair does it?

It's about time someone started to pay attention to this.

July 21st 2002 18:00EDT

I've just been out to dinner here in Binghamton. It's Sunday and everywhere is shut. The hotel restaurant didn't open until 17:00 and I suddenly realized at about 15:00 that I hadn't eaten anything since Friday evening and consequently was ravenous. I walked a couple of blocks to a bar that seems to be perpetually open to grab a couple of Guinness and some food.

While in there, some random golf tournament was on the TV. I hate golf with a passion. The whole of my industry's social life revolves around it and I hate it. Some nameless golf player putted something and the TV network showed it again in slow motion. Like you really need to show golf in slow motion. It's akin to showing slow motion in slow motion. What is that compels otherwise intelligent people to be obsessed with golf bats (sic) and stupid balls? I can't understand it at all.

And while we're on the subject of pointless sports, the program that followed the golf was "Outdoor Sports" where people compete in cutting down logs. Mind-boggling. Mind-numbing.

Having spent most of the day just hanging around my hotel room, I was surprised that life does go on outside of it. I could have driven to Niagara Falls but didn't. I could have driven to New York City but didn't. You see, I'm at a point where I've been to so many places that I'm bored with the sight-seeing. If this was Italy or France, I might feel differently but it's just upstate NY. Nice though it is, it has no appeal. When you've done so much travel with work, it becomes a bind. I miss my wife, kids and dogs. The only reason I can justify it to myself is that my inconvenience makes for their convenience and supports them. I just wish I could support them in another way too.

A thought struck me while I was partaking of a glass of Ireland's finest export. I was thinking about the fact that I had turned this journal thing into a blog (although not the dictionary or technical definition of one) and wondering what my parents would think and getting into a panic that they might actually read this...it's not that much of a jump from my email address to a www is it? My parents are beautifully English and very reserved. Neither of them would publicly express any emotion to anyone other than their family and here am I spilling the contents of my thoughts out to the masses, albeit that they are pretty inane thoughts. I feel exposed and child-like at the thought that they may read this. Is that because I live in fear of their approval or because I have inherited their values and feel like I have broken an unwritten law? I can't see it being the former as some of my life has not been pretty and I've done some awful things that I have been duly forgiven for. That said, that may just amplify the feeling that I may not be approved of. If I have broken the unwritten law, I'm not sorry. Communication is a skill we all need and if this keeps me out of trouble, where is the harm? Maybe I'm being too harsh on them and it's just the parent-child relationship that I still suffer from. If Lori, Zoe, Samantha or Nicholas (eventually) want to do this, I will back them 100%. Even though Nicholas isn't even born yet, he exists in my mind and if he wants to vent his spleen on the web, I'll get him his own domain. So, to mum and dad, I'm sorry if you ever read this and cringe. And by the way, I've lived here for over three years and you haven't even once considered visiting! Hint.

It may be that I'm becoming more American in my ways. I used to look at Americans as painfully open people but I actually think their openness is quite refreshing - not the brash NYC or Chicago open, but the modest, demure and wonderfully accepting Midwestern openness.

I envy Natzoid a lot. She is as unenthused about the world outside of our family and home as I am yet she can appear so calm and confident when dealing with people. Having been away for a week now, I miss her wit and her company. I have never felt so much at ease as when it's just Natzoid, the kids and the dogs. Roll on Wednesday when I think I might make it home. Love you Natzoid!

July 21st 2002 12:46EDT

Today I had to face up to a hard fact. My original journal idea has become more of a blog than a journal. When I'm away, I find myself updating it more and more frequently. So there was a little rearrangement and some frame re-jigging and here we have it. My measurement studies seemed to have gone wonderfully for the most part and as a prize, I get to take today off. So expect some site changes while I waste away a day in the Holiday Inn in Binghamton. Most of them will be pointless and just consume bandwidth for its own sake but what the hell.

So welcome to the blog.

July 20th 2002 06:30EDT

Do you feel in control? I'm currently sat in a hotel in NY worrying about a massive measurement study that I'm doing that has had some hairy moments. And it's not just work. It's life in general. There's not enough time to do everything. I envy my parents. They have always seemed like they were thoroughly in control. Personally, I think that the moment that I feel like I'm in control of everything will be the moment that the grim reaper enters stage left and shouts "Come in Kenny, your time is up". Then it will be away to the barbeque in a long box. But at least I will have been in control.

I'm starting to get tired of the obsession that everyone has about predicting the future. The stock markets live or die by their predictions, as do companies, as does your retirement fund. It's akin to betting on horse-racing. Completely pointless. We should all take a step back from this and focus on the here and now. I'm here in NY. OK, I'm away from my family and dogs so it's not ideal, but I'm here and it is now. I am working over the weekend and well into next week. It's not good but it's not bad. It just is. And so what if I'm not in control of the measurement studies that I'm doing? They will either work or they won't and all the evidence is that they will so I should stop worrying about them. I am not in control and therefore can only influence what is going to happen. Machines do what they do and I have a certain amount of influence over them, but I cannot change physics or mathematics to ensure success although I would desperately like to.

I'd like to think that at some point I will be able to retire but the way the markets are melting down, I'll be working until that barbeque incident occurs. But I care not a jot. Today's another day. In the immortal words of Paul Simon "I'm older than I once was and younger than I'll be". Perfect summary of today's demeanor. And with that, I will away to work knowing full well that what happens happens and that I can have limited impact on anything of any substance. Today I will be a good little worker bee and go about my mission with zeal. Great time to be eh?

July 5th 2002 06:30EDT oh and maybe the 7th, 8th and 9th

July 4th is always a bizarre time to be an Englishman in America. Aside from Natzoid's jibes about having our butts kicked and endless mockery of the "redcoat" as a ridiculous uniform color, it is actually a day that we should all celebrate. Without knocking England too much, what on earth would have happened if Britain had retained control over the US? Look at the total mess that we as a British nation have left elsewhere on the planet after our colonial exploits. Pakistan and India regularly face off, Northern Ireland is still a mess and why on earth did we go to war against Argentina for a couple of acres of the Falkland Isles? Even Scotland would be more well-off without the British influence.

I'm amazed that anyone can afford to live in the UK. When I lived there, I earned a decent salary, watched half of it disappear in taxes then paid through the nose for everyday items. I still don't understand how those with lower incomes survive there. It must be a miserable existence.

Utility bills in the US seem to be more expensive than I would have thought. I suppose we must all contribute to corporate America's endless thirst for profits and share-holder value. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for everyone earning a decent wage, but the number of accounting scandals that grace the financial pages and the number of lay-offs that happen on a daily basis irk me when I look at the salaries and share-options that the management draw down each year. I'm sorry, but nobody needs a million dollars a year. Thinking about it, noone needs half a million. Salaries should be capped at $250k. That would preserve some corporate profit and would ensure that those managing companies are doing so for the right reasons. And don't give me that "market-value" argument...tell me who in the world is worth 10s of millions to a company? Noone. Ever. Except maybe Bill Gates.

Anyway, back to my point...the US should celebrate its independence. I raised a glass (or two)!

My right honourable friend Mr Conners has a web log that I read from time to time, entertaining it is too. His latest commentary is on teenage years and the angst involved (both physical and emotional). I have some sympathy with that view although the Friends Reunited site is actually quite a giggle (I wonder how many people have self-awarded PhDs or run their own fictional companies). My gripe with being a teenager is that it's exactly the wrong time to be taking life-dictating exams. I managed to get my degree on natural ability not hard work. I hated University and was so much happier working. And it wasn't the income level that a student has/had that made me despise it. It was the cliquey nature of the social interactions. Were I to resit my degree, I'm sure I would do a great deal better now.

Anyway John's comments about being young free and single are all well and good, but I can honestly say that you haven't lived until you've seen your two year-old daughter's face asleep next to you in the morning (as I did this morning). For many years, I thought I had lost that deep empathy and compassion that we all should have. Watching Zoe grow has renewed it to an all-time high. In a time where even the world's super-powers are under attack, we should all employ that compassion and remember that people are people, whether they be in Israel, Palestine, Afghanistan or New York. In the immortal words of Mr Bono of U2 "No more". Tolerance everybody, tolerance. Look at your kids. If you don't have any, look at someone else's and watch the joi de vivre...it's a beautiful thing, and before long, they too will suffer the teenage hell but will emerge, hopefully unscathed and hopefully as well adjusted adults who can continue to improve the quality of life for everyone.

Re-reading this I sound like a commie, hippie, limp wristed liberal. Believe me I'm not. I have my Yahoo stock portfolio to track and thoroughly support military action against anyone who attacks anyone else in the name of God, Allah or any other blatantly fictional higher being. Just watch out for those civilians...please.

Jees - I really should refrain from writing these things in the morning. Talk about mental meandering...not a decent line of thought in any of it.

I've just been perusing our genealogy section and wondering. No, not about the mosquito bites on my face (which, incidentally, hurt like buggery) but about how amazing the whole randomness of everything is. For example, my maternal grandmother moved from Austria to the UK after the second world war; had she not done that, I wouldn't be here. Had I not moved to the US, Zoe and Nicholas wouldn't be here (or arriving in Nicholas's case). Mind boggling isn't it?

My grandmother's brother, Franz, was enlisted by the German army to fight on the Russian front during the second world war. He was executed by his own people for objecting to fighting. This news broke my grandma's heart as she has spent the last half century believing that he died in combat. Personally, I think there is a lot more dignity in the truth.

The more I learn about war, the more fascinated I become by it. I don't have the nerve for serious confrontation so it astounds me that people survive wars. Having watched the brutality of Saving Private Ryan and Black Hawk Down, I can honestly say that I would shoot myself before having to deal with that level of violence. However, give me the history channel on a Sunday afternoon and I'm all ears (yes, metaphorically as well as physically).

This particular log has started to degenerate into a pinko pacifist tome so I'm going to change the subject quickly.

I've been thinking a lot about my daughter in England. Whatever I do is wrong in the eyes of her mother. I am told to write and send gifts nowadays. This only started a couple of months ago. I do so every two weeks and learn second hand that it's not enough. The communication is one way. You might think that so is writing a web journal, but that's easy - you talk about what's on your mind and don't have to tailor to a five year old's level. Lori deserves better than this. It really is tragic that things worked out the way they did and you could argue that it's all my fault, and it may well be, but the reality of it all is that it did work out that way. Rather than assigning blame and feeding grudges, the parties involved should be practical and pragmatic. I'm a miniscule part of Lori's existence but she is not a miniscule part of mine. It grieves me that I never really got to know her very well. Think I'll sign off and write to her. I wonder if she'll ever read any of this? Lordy, the joys of being an adult eh? It's 7:30 in the morning and I've been awake for two hours and these are the things that wake me, and keep me awake. It all seems a tad pathetic doesn't it?