Bring on the night

The afternoon has gently passed me by
The evening spreads its sail against the sky
Waiting for tomorrow, just another day
God bid yesterday goodbye

Bring on the night
I couldn't spend another hour of daylight
Bring on the night
I couldn't stand another hour of daylight

The future is but a question mark
Hangs above my head, there in the dark
Can't see for the brightness is staring me blind
God bid yesterday good-bye

Bring on the night
I couldn't spend another hour of daylight
Bring on the night
I couldn't stand another hour of daylight

I couldn't spend another hour of daylight
I couldn't stand another hour of daylight

-- Sting

Me unplugged

I feel compelled to share a couple of random thoughts that suddenly become intriguingly intertwined.

I've been commenting for some time that the new digital age is a double-edged sword. It's been written that this is the first economic revolution that has actually resulted in LESS personal time for the average worker. The reality is that the immediacy and pervasiveness of technology has tethered us to our work. We can't escape it. Blackberrys, email, cell phones, laptops...it's all about taking it with you. Even if you don't want to, the expectation of your clients is that you do.

You're always on the clock these days. When someone sends you an email, without you even knowing it, a clock somewhere starts ticking. You could be away from your desk for 30 minutes, or a few hours (God forbid a day or two) and you come back to angry emails demanding to know where you've been. This forces you to proactively communicate where you are at every given moment to stave off the bristling, lathered emails that begin prowling your inbox like so many virtual rabid wolves.

I was lamenting to Lori about being tracked down Sunday by a client, bringing me back down to Earth after my Saturday high. The client was at a tradeshow in Vegas and I admittedly gave them my cell number in the case any urgent situations arose. I rarely give out my cell, but it was the appropriate thing to do in this case lest I return to a Monday morning cataclysm. Lori and I were bemoaning the fact that certain late decisions on the client's part rolled down hill to me. While this is true, I realize that shit just rolls down hill on everyone. And with technology, the shit is excreted at the speed of data. Even the biggest companies that you think are proactive, regimented and disciplined are plagued with the same insane trickle down theory. One email from an executive and the entire company goes into hyper-reaction mode. Even the way an email is written and interpreted (or misinterpreted) can cause uncertainty to spread like wildfire.

We spend insane amounts of time responding to emails for fear of invoking the wrath of impatient senders. One business writer talked about what the experience would be like 10 or 15 years ago -- before email. Imagine returning to your desk after a day away only to find 150 "While You Were Away" memo post-its piled there. It would be ridiculous, right?. But that's what it's like now with email. Its cute, innocuous little digital facade makes it seem so harmless, but it's actually more invasive and soul-sapping than you can consciously fathom.

That crossed in my mind with the thought about rush hour traffic. After our first experiences driving from OC to San Diego, we began seeing the patterns. There are certain hills or blind curves that cause a chain reaction in traffic. You can see it from elevated perspectives as some car in the distance hits their brakes and the Christmas tree of red lights trigger in rapid succession in its wake. A Discovery Channel show commented on the phenomenon. It's like neural synapses firing...one person taps their brakes and literally miles of cars behind will slow in response.

Kinda like email trickle down. Everything moves so fast; like a gigantic, vicious vortex of data and deadlines. Be there, do it now.

That thought just commingled with the recollection of a science fiction novel I read some fifteen years ago. In the Across Realtime books by Vernor Vinge, he writes about a future when the human race disappears entirely. Certain small groups of people, leveraging an exotic technology that enables them to trap themselves in a stasis field that "freezes" them while the rest of the world evolves around them (the "bobble"), emerge from their induced hibernation to a planet where all humans have vanished. The eccentric time travelers of sorts speculate about the cause of the disappearance over the course of chapters. The prevailing sentiment is that the computer networks people used became so pervasive and so powerful, that they enabled people to finally transcend physical form. The idea was that -- with the Net wired into each person's brain, enabling them to share ideas with virtually anyone on the planet and retrieve information from any resource instantaneously -- the race simply evolved to a point where intelligence required no flesh.

So I muse tonight about how far-fetched this could be. Certainly it's hard to see us completely evaporating into pools of consciousness and energy, but I think this century will see real challenges to our sense of physical self. Will we become gargantuan sloths tied to our computers (as our national obesity statistics indicate) or will we whither and atrophy as we become inextricably meshed with our networked fabric...senses perpetually overstimulated by the adrenalin charge of access to everything all the time?

Don't know. But frankly, I wouldn't mind unplugging for a while.

A brand new day

Welcome to the workin' week.
Oh I know it don't thrill you, I hope it don't kill you.
Welcome to the workin' week.
You gotta do it till you're through it so you better get to it.
--Elvis Costello

Mentally preparing this blog this morning, my outlook on the tone changed dramatically as I shook the much-deserved sleep from my mind.

I had absolutely the most brutal work week. For those of you scoring hours:
Monday: 8am-3:30am
Tuesday: 9am-3:45am
Wednesday: 9am-4:15am
Thursday: 10am-8pm on Friday (yes, I was at the agency all night with about 2 hours sleep on my couch)

We wrapped at least three major projects on Friday. I have never experienced a crazier week where literally every moment had some kind of seemingly momentous decision hinged upon it. It funneled down to the moment on Friday where I had to drive five miles in six minutes in order to get a FedEx to Vegas. I drove about 95 miles an hour, weaving through traffic, miraculously making every light, and ran into the station laughing like a crazy person.

And then I rejoiced in the stupid little accomplishment. Because it was about the first thing that really went right this week. And then I reflected on the moment. All week, what with the huge projects coming to completion amidst two employees leaving and a few new ones starting, I've equivocated the week to passing through the mouth of the beast. I know that someday I'll look back on this period of weeks, maybe this week specifically, as a turning point.

It's ironic that the same week we paid off the business loan, we would lose our longest tenured employee. One who's been with the agency nearly as long as I.

I slept about 12 hours last night, which is probably about as much as I slept all week. And I'm not exaggerating that math too much. For some reason, I awoke contemplating how to document this week.

And then it happened.

My kids woke me up at 10:30 am, creeping into the room. They opened the shades and the realization I wrote about a few days ago came to me upon gossamer wings.

The business loan is done. We are debt free. And suddenly my mind went from "what a crappy, crazy week" to "it's time to celebrate."

Lori came into the room with the Saturday real estate section, talking about an apparent fixer-upper in Irvine for $650,000. And for the first time since we've lived here -- unfettered by the oppressive weight of that loan -- I was actually excited about the prospects.

Getting positively giddy, I took the kids aside and told them about the significance of the event. I rallied them into their clothes and into the car. We took off for a celebratory lunch and shopping spree. The girls each got a video game, Lori some new clothes and I bought four new CDs.

I feel positively liberated and I know the feeling will only flourish over the next days and weeks.

This week was symbolic. It was like a freaking rebirth. And even though I know I'm still in for a few more tough ones while we continue to hire more staff, I feel reinvigorated -- like I prayed I would.

Turn the clock to zero honey
I'll sell the stock we'll spend all the money
We're starting up a brand new day
Turn the clock to zero Mac
I'm begging her to take me back
I'm thinking in a brand new way
-- Sting

Seven years in Tidebt

Passage. This word has been on my mind a lot the past two weeks. As a contractor of ours stated to me last week, we're in a time of change.

A day I've awaited...no, that's too passive...worked my ASS off for for seven years has come. Ding dong, the business loan is dead! A FedEx left Orange County today, containing a check foretold in legend, headed for the second floor of the Scottsdale branch of Bank One.

In October of 1998, I set myself and my family on a long journey. Buying into partnership for this agency was one of the biggest and most challenging decisions I've ever made. With the support of my family...most of whom were born under the shadow of the decision...I worked to transform myself and this agency into something I could be proud of. I looked out onto an uncertain future and put my money where my mouth was.

While I had a plan to pay the 10-year note off in three, seven proved to be the lucky number. After it all, I've arrived at a place I couldn't have fully envisioned. While I'm still sorting out some of the pieces, I acknowledge that I've transformed. More experienced. Wiser. Confident.

I've had plenty of doubt along the way. It was a big plunge for us. It required commitment and persistence to an extent I'd never before demonstrated. It's made me confront priorities in life and dwell on what I'm all about. At my core.

The payoff of the business loan is as much a spiritual accomplishment as it is a financial one. I proved something to myself and the people around me about my character and drive.

And I've come out the other side. Run the gauntlet. Passed through the void. I was about to say "now for the fun part." And that's a fairly honest emotion. But I don't want to fall into the trap of segregating the two periods...like before and after, bad and good. Because that smacks of regret. I bought into all of it, literally, for better and for worse.

This accomplishment does mark a new period; a new set of objectives has shifted into the spotlight. Buying a house. And that will become the fixation now and for years to come.

I will look back on this period as evolutionary. I grew up in a lot of ways, but I don't think I fundamentally changed. And I'm proud of that. I think things that were locked up in me were simply liberated and forced to the surface.

I've awaited this day for seven long years and, for about that same duration, I've wondered how I would celebrate. How I would feel. Admittedly, coming off two 18-hour days and headed into a third has me in a somewhat more subdued, reflective state. I think the reality will set in the first month we don't have to make that blasted payment and the money, instead, goes into the down payment fund. And then maybe I'll treat myself to a CD or two...maybe wash my car...maybe buy a new pair of shoes. Just a few of the small indulgences I haven't allowed myself since the 20th Century.

But, I'll make sure to schedule an appropriate celebration. This is an achievement not to be undervalued or left unacknowledged. But after the alcohol has coursed through my system and a day or two has passed, I'll have a quiet moment with my wife. We'll look back at what we've done...together...and marvel at all that we have to look forward to.

Passage.

Dark night, Black lyrics

Give me one little blip,
And I'll totally flip.
Say it's nothing but sky,
And I will be one lonely guy.

-- Frank Black, The Vanishing Spies

V2 has launched

OCMehls.com V2 is live to the world. Through some investigation and experimentation, I figured out how to repoint my domain to the v2 subdirectory. I'm quite proud of myself. Now people are automatically redirected to the new site, but the old site still lives in the root.

I was getting a big sense of accomplishment before I tested the new site in Explorer. I now see there are some anomalous line breaks and alignment issues that I can't resolve. But it looks great in Safari and Firefox. :)

I'll lock horns with Bill Gates' demon-spawned browser some other time. In the meantime, enjoy the new site while overlooking some of the goofy layout issues.

The chest is clear

Just thought it was worth relaying that the results came back after my mole excision and all is clear. Nothing suspicious or worthy of further concern.

So I've got THAT going for me...which is nice.

Anniversary blogfession

Forgive me all, for I have sinned. But don't condemn me, for I know not what I do.

And therein lies the evil.

At some point in your life, did you ever wake up on a hazy Saturday or Sunday morning in a pool of your own vomit, next to an anonymous person, holding a gun in your hand, your skin dyed chartreuse, your ears buzzing with the echoes of mariachi and wonder, "what have I become?"

That's about the magnitude of the question I've confronted tonight. An equally powerful realization followed shortly thereafter.

You see, I wholly forgot my ninth wedding anniversary today. The memory didn't even cross my mind. Not once. Nada. Nunca. It wasn't until Lori emailed me a little virtual quip at about 7:30pm that I came to acknowledge my stupidity. I didn't take it well.

I'm not going to defend my obtuseness. I'm certainly not happy about what I've done. And I don't believe that admitting this to the blogosphere will absolve me of my guilt.

Something in me must've been sensing the arrival of the date. About a week ago, I was unconsciously motivated to get our wedding video out and we enjoyed watching it with the kids. But, even as I watched the date "April 5, 1997" scroll across the screen, I mentally noted to myself...don't forget your anniversary.

It didn't do me one bit of good.

So the epiphany tonight is that I am completely out of control with work. I try to deny it, but who am I kidding? If it's come to the point of forgetting my own anniversary, that's just pitiful. I didn't even have enough wits about me to pull a Fred Flintstone and do some last minute flower-buying run with Barney Rubble. I forgot everything about the significance of this date.

I'm pretty sick about it. Even now, it's 2:47am, and I just completed my second consecutive night of post-2:30am work. Fortunately, the past two nights, I've done my late night work at home. That being said, I didn't get home until 9. A big part of me considers getting home at 8 or 9 as early.

I'm completely out of touch with anything resembling a normal schedule and lifestyle. The ladies all came to the office to have lunch with me since they're on break. We sat in our war room and as the girls began drawing on the white board as they love to do, I gradually slumped over on Lori's shoulder and fell asleep. I fell asleep during Ice Age 2 on Saturday and started nodding off at the Cheesecake Factory two weeks ago, just sitting at the dinner table. I'm surprised I didn't end up looking like one of those two-year olds on America's Funniest Videos who falls asleep in his high chair and plunges face first in his sherbet.

Even as I write this, I'm tempted to start making light of the situation. Maybe yesterday, it would've been funny. But today, completely blowing it on one of the most significant days in my life, any humor was stripped from my situation. I need to escalate this to a level of urgency I haven't previously. We're trying like mad to hire new people...a task made even more grueling in light of the fact that another employee just gave me notice yesterday. :( That was a nice segue to my late night session, you can imagine.

All of this crushing pressure is buoyed by the fact that, this month, Lori and I will be debt-free. Barring any last minute upward adjustments to taxes, not only will we pay off the business loan, we will kill off Lori's ancient school loan. We will be 100% debt-free, putting us in an ideal home-buying posture. We'll begin socking away money toward a down payment.

So I'm grateful that this work has finally reaped the reward for which I've worked so hard.

But I cannot let my career consume me like this, nor let it swallow my family in this sucking vortex. I've become a specter in my own home...the only evidence of my presence during the week being displaced sheets on the bed or a trail of clothes strewn across the floor -- left during a quiet 3am creep up the stairs.

I am committed to righting this ship. With all of you witnesses, I am going to immediately set aside 20 people hours a week toward the task of supplementing our staff. One of the people I'd like to replace is myself. I'm entertaining ways to offload some of my creative workload at the higher end of the food chain so that I can focus on building the business while also ensuring I don't become an impediment to the workflow due to my increasing absence from the office while at meetings/presentations, etc.

So, I've spoken my peace. I need to sleep.

I'm truly sorry, Lori. I hope that next April 5th will not only be a celebration of our tenth wedding anniversary, but the anniversary of the date I turned this madness around.

Forgive me.

Someday

Someday when I'm leaving work on time and the rest of my employees are the ones staying late, wondering why the boss always gets to go home before they do, I'll feel justified in shaking my head and quietly imparting, "I've earned it."

More than they'll ever know.