Detailed Requirements Gathering

As a hardcore nerd, I often find myself "gathering data".  Most of the time it's about some problem at work or the newest, shiniest gadget.  (I think most married women on this blog can relate this to their husband's research for the TV)  At home, I even went through a phase where I analyzed the hell out of my finances.  I could quickly tell you what percentage of my net income I spent on haircuts over the last 2 years.

Obviously that's completely useless information.  I eventually quit tracking that information.  Now I spend 4 times as much on my haircuts and am much happier.  Anyway, I digress...

The point is that the other day I was reading a very interesting book that took the assumption above (that I easily find myself heavily analyzing certain parts of my life) and asked why I wasn't doing it to the other "problems" in my life.

That got my interest for a minute and I grabbed my "Crap that Sucks in My Life" list.  (yes, I actually have that list)  One of the top 3 was "fatigue".

First, let me explain that I am generally a bit lazy to start with.  Then, as if I needed another excuse, fatigue is a chronic symptom of virtually all Crohn's patients.  Almost everyone fights with it throughout their life--partly because of the latent properties of the disease and compounded by surgeries removing parts of your body you kinda need.

For the past few years, it's been a struggle for me to stay active.  When I get home, my ass gravitates to the couch and I rarely get up.  On the weekends, I can build some momentum if I start-off right, but that momentum rarely continues past about 3 PM--then I'm back to the couch or sitting in front of the Internet.

So, I started doing some detailed research.  After about 30 minutes, I had a good starting point.  I had 3 things I wanted to start with.  3 changes I could make with virtually no effort.  Then I had a plan to document, chart and experiment from there.

But then the most unexpected thing happened.  My energy level went up by like 30% the next morning.  I felt refreshed as soon as I woke up.  I didn't make any coffee for myself before leaving for work.  I didn't yawn all day.  Yeah, my ass made it to the couch that night, but I wasn't as drained as usual.

After continuing those 3 changes through the weekend, it got to the point that Saturday night I was still wide awake at 2 AM and couldn't talk myself into going to bed.

This morning, I woke up just before the alarm and went into the office a couple of minutes early.

Part of me just wants to cry.  All this time, it might have been that easy to feel this much better.  But the rest of me wants to grab that notebook and see how much farther I can go.

Freudian Slip of the Day

In the car on the way home, 'Jessie's Girl' was playing on the radio and, of course, I was singing along. It was halfway through the song before I realized that I was singing it as "I wish that I was Jessie's girl."

Ahem.

Confession and Imperfect Contrition

As most of you know, I stopped smoking when I started dating George. As a pediatrician, you can imagine that it didn't go over well. And, as many of you also suspected, I started up again after we broke up.

Since then I've gone back and forth between a couple a day to a full-blown pack-a-day habit. Yes, I know it sucks. I know I should quit. What can I say? Those ex-smokers out there know the crappy justifications we use(d) not to quit.

Well, I finally had enough. (again) My last smoke was Friday evening. I'm past the three-day hump and things are starting to even out again. At this point, I honestly think I've got a good chance of not slipping back anytime soon.

Anyway, I've felt really bad about this. I was really embarrassed about starting again, so I've done a half-assed attempt to hide it. It sucks how easy it is for me to slip back into the mode of hiding. And as hard as it is for me to climb out of my shell as an extremely introverted person, hiding a regular part of my life has taken its toll. The other day someone told me that they were glad that I moved to Houston because I seemed more like myself than ever and it just killed me knowing how I wasn't living up to that. I'm glad I've got friends in my life that, purposefully or not, hold up that mirror. I need that fresh air of honesty now and again.

So, to end this on a good note: since nobody really knew I started smoking again (at least nobody in Houston), I had to have something that would keep me from picking up right away. So, cheesy excuse or not, I bought myself a new little toy. The deal was that if I got the toy, I couldn't smoke anymore. Even though it was inanimate, it was still something to continuously remind me of my goal.

I'm now an X-Box nerd again.

"It's a question of ethics"

For those of you that don't listen to 'This American Life' on NPR (and I know that's an alarmingly high percentage), I've got an ethical exercise for you.  Two hypothetical scenarios/questions.  Give it an honest shot.  No fancy tricks here.  Answer the first question before moving on to the second.

Scenario #1

Imagine you are standing at the top of a cliff.  Down below are some train tracks.  And in the distance are 5 guys working on the tracks.

Suddenly, you notice a train coming in the distance.  It's heading directly for the 5 workers who have their backs to the train.  You just know that if something doesn't happen, they will be hit by the train and killed.  And you're so far away, they can't hear you yelling to warn them.

Just then, you notice a fork in the train tracks and, on the other track, a single worker with his back to the train.  The lever to switch the train to the other track is right next to you.

Question: Do you throw the switch--changing the direction of the train?  It will kill the single worker instead of the 5.

Scenario #2

Ok, similar scenario here.  You're on the cliff with the tracks below.  The same 5 workers have their backs turned.

But in this scenario, there's no fork in the tracks.  Instead, there is a big guy looking over the edge of the cliff next to you.

You know that if you give the big guy a *little* nudge, he will fall, land on the tracks and stop the train.  Yes, the fall will kill him, but the 5 workers will again be spared.

Question:  Do you push the guy?

Analysis

Did your answers between the two scenarios change?  If so, why?  What is the difference?

One step at a time

A little over a year ago, while I was still dating George, I walked down from his apartment to grab the mail.  When I reached in and pulled-out a mazagine covered in a gray polyfilm bag, I had a reaction I think most guys will appreciate: "Yeah!  Porn!"

I very clearly remember my next reaction.  Anger.  No, it wasn't porn, it was that month's issue of The Advocate--the country's leading magazine covering gay issues.  I wasn't mad because I was deined a dirty magazine.  I was pissed that it was mailed like it *was* porn.

I fumed the entire walk back to George's apartment.  How could The Advocate stoop so low as to hide what it is?  It's a legitimate, 40 year-old magazine.  It wasn't until I got to the top of the stairs did I come to the simple, sinking realization why.  Many people couldn't subscribe to it otherwise.

Like me in the past, they would have been afraid of being outed by their mailman, neighbors or moms.  I'd been so relatively comfortable being out that I'd started to forget how completely and devistatingly it can ruin your life.  My anger melted into pity.  How far we have left to come as a country.

So, you can imagine how I felt when I opened this month's issue and saw the Letter from the Editor saying that I can now choose if I want my copy to come in a wrapper.

I immediately went online and told them they can keep the wrapper for someone that still needs it.  I don't need mine anymore.

South Fork, CO

Sorry, there's not been much blogged lately. That doesn't mean nothing is happening--quite the opposite. In the past 30 days, I've flown or driven over 12,000 miles. From 500 kts in a Boeing A330 over the Atlantic to 3 mph in a 4-wheeler over the Rocky Mountains. 3 countries, 4 states and 2 different birthday parties in-between.

So, I spent last week in South Fork, CO. My Dad's side of the family has a cabin there and so we loaded-up about half a dozen 4-wheelers and drove up.


I spent several summer vacations exploring the Rockies when I was young. Like many times in the past, Dad and I drove straight through the night. At one point, I slipped-off to sleep and awoke when he pulled into a gas station. As I opened the truck door, the crisp, pure scent of mountain pine hit me and I was instantly 12 again.


We spent the next 5 days waking-up just after dawn and having breakfast at the diner in town. Then we'd all gather supplies for the day and head out for a new trail. The weather was perfect. I'd forgotten what absolutely clean air felt like to breathe.


It definately wasn't a normal week for me.