Five years ago today I started working full-time at the company of my dreams. As I am still there, I have already been labeled a lifer, and I'm perfectly fine with that. Loyalty is way underrated these days, if you ask me. Actually, you didn't, but I said it anyway.
The fact is, we do some pretty amazing stuff, and I'm still thrilled to be a part of it every day. Here are just a few highlights from the past couple years.
At some point I'll take real pictures, rather than exploit the vast Internet. But, in the meantime, with thanks to soldierguy20031 and Photobucket:
John Piper is coming to speak at my church this Friday, the same day that I fly to Minneapolis, his hometown. This is not only trivial coincidence, but brutal irony. I love John Piper. Moreover, he'll be enjoying 50°+ weather in Seattle, while I'll be picking frozen boogers in 28° temperature highs. Nevertheless, I'm excited to visit Minneapolis for the first time and to celebrate with good friends at Wedding #1 of 2010.
After the wedding, I'll be boarding a short flight to Chicago to celebrate my dad's birthday. There the temperatures will reach a balmy 35°. If six years in California wore down my cold threshold, three subsequent years in temperate Seattle have dealt the final blow. I've been wussified. But whatever. I still look forward to a great, if freezing, weekend at home in the Midwest.
You know what else is cool? I used to hang out with this guy. And by "hang out," I mean I was occasionally paid to keep an eye on him. (Is it still called "babysitting" when they're ten years old and you're chatting with them about robots?) That was ten years ago. This Tuesday I'll be cheering for him and Team USA.
Today I found myself entering the name of a coworker into my cell phone. His name is Mansoor, but Sony Ericsson's built-in dictionary assumed that I meant Manpons. Um, right. Sounds like something for me to put into my manpurse, in the company of my iPad (with wings).
No doubt, Urban Dictionary already has entries for all these. And so much more.
Poor Mansoor...
There are few types of people that I truly despise in this world, but I reserve a special place in my heart of darkness for those who have nothing better to do with their sorry lives than to spam others' inboxes, or worse, to hijack their computers with malware like viruses, trojan horses, adware, spyware, etc. Earlier this week I fell victim to one of the latter attacks, and I am still trying to recover functionality. It probably had to do with my little online vice, SurfTheChannel.net. I recommend against visiting. This entire episode, which has cost me hours of wasted time and lost sleep, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and makes me seriously consider buying an Apple for my next computer.
To make the week just a little worse, I had Lady Gaga stuck in my head all day today, which was not only another harrowing experience, but frankly an embarrassing one.
We live in a fallen world.
Just an editorial comment here: I finally began tagging my posts. I had thought about tags ever since starting this blog, but just never got around to it. Well, three years later, voilà, the three most common themes in my writing:
Roots: People and experiences from my past, shaping who I am today.
Wings: Experiences of today, including travels and my work in aerospace.
And, of course, Turds: I don't feel an explanation is necessary, but perhaps instead an observation that this blog needs more turds. I'll get right on that.
Exhibit A, from the beloved site Engrish.com:
This post is not nearly as intellectual or poetic as the title may suggest.
By the second day after having met my buddy John at our church in grad school, I and everyone else were already hearing the wonders of this new movie, "Super Size Me." Today, some five and a half years later, I finally watched it. The movie is basically a documentary by and about Morgan Spurlock, a man who went on a monthlong diet of all McDonalds, all the time. And though the detrimental effect on his health was not all that surprising, it was still disturbing. I used to permit myself a visit to the fast food counter any time I was waiting in an airport during a meal time, as though it were some kind of a treat. Now, realizing how frequently that occurs, and then imagining those anti-fungal French fries coursing their way through my system, perhaps I should reconsider. (Oh, but those delicious hash browns! Follow the link if you want to read one of the best blog posts I've come across, from a random Google search to make sure I spelled "hash browns" right.)
One other tidbit I picked up from the movie: Apparently I grew up in the only state in this country that required physical education is grades K-12. Who knew? And all along I thought everyone in the U.S. was subject to mandatory fitness testing, heartrate monitors, and some awfully hypocritical PE teachers (of which one in particular comes to mind, whom we affectionately called Big Al). I don't mean to complain. In fact, I am grateful for the grade school days of crab-walking relays and kickball tournaments, middle school choreographed renditions of Tootsie Roll (the one scarring memory I couldn't completely block out), and high school games of floor hockey, ultimate frisbee, and the annual 5K run. Most of all, I am grateful for the overbearing sense of guilt I feel for not running as regularly (or compulsively) as I used to.
I dare say those were some fun days.
