My Life Past Midnight

It's been a long and stressful week as I get closer to my big July deadlines. I swore after February that I was not going to be up until all hours writing documentation for the next release. Things looked promising until our tech writer got sick (he's dropped 30 pounds in the last three weeks, so clearly something is very wrong).

So I'm writing again, and it's become my second full-time job.

The line between night and day has blurred. I'm sending email at 3AM and taking naps at 5PM. I go to the gym at 11PM and eat a second dinner at 2AM. Business calls at 8AM and 2AM. After a while, it stops feeling so strange, and I just stumble around in a fog.

The silver lining in it all is that I've developed a surprisingly rich post-midnight social life. One friend on the other side of the world regularly checks in around 2 or 3AM to catch up and then encourage me to go to sleep. I've forged another surprisingly important friendship with someone who stays up with me for hours each night, talking about everything and nothing. (Is editing docs and IM'ing at the same time multitasking or being distracted?)

Strangely, I'm a little sad that there's only another week or two of these crazy hours. After it's all over, what happens to these friendships? Are they going to survive the light of day and competition from real, live people and the daily run-around that keeps me from spending hours on the computer every night? Time will tell.

Campaign to Stay Sane

Topics of the day: Worry, Stress, Depression

Worry: I picked up two friends and their nephew this morning to take them to the airport. The nephew was going to live with his grandmother for a month, and I witnessed the advice and admonitions from his mother before we took off. "Be respectful. If you're disrespectful, I will hear about it! Don't talk to strangers. If someone tries to touch you in the bathroom, yell 'Fire!' Don't go to the bathroom by yourself. Make Uncle S take you." Then she started tearing up. I felt bad - how must it feel to send your young son off by himself for a month? - I can't relate.

Apparently she can't either. It turns out there was a last minute plan change yesterday, and she's flying to the same place on Monday for 25 days. All those instructions were for two days apart!

Stress: I'm in the last few weeks before our product release, and everything's getting stressful. The last time we had a release, the stress and late nights, the lack of sleep and social contact, knocked me out. The day after the release, I woke up sick, sick, sick. I was laid up in bed for a week, felt sub-par for three weeks, and had a lingering cough even two months later.

So this time, I'm trying to take better care of myself. I'm taking all of today off from work - haven't edited a single doc, looked at a bug, or sent an email. Better yet, I've started a workout pact with some friends. We're all trying to accomplish five workouts a week for the next month. Now I have a guilt-free reason to do something every day that's not work, and best of all, since it's my get-out-of-work free card, it feels fun.

Depression: My friend recently turned her life upside down and decided to start a foundation. The foundation, inspired by her brother, is to promote suicide awareness and prevention, using the arts (music, painting) as a hook to draw people in and get them to listen to the message. Tonight is the foundation's launch, so I'll be getting dressed up and heading out to support that in a few hours.

Best of luck, S!

7 +/- 2 (aka Corporate Rants, part 2)

Seven minutes of programming, plus or minus two minutes, between commercial interruptions.

I'm watching the season finale of Grey's Anatomy on my DVR. There seemed to be an inordinate number of commercials, so I started timing it. The results were infuriating.

They give us a treat at the beginning and end of the show (10 and 15 minutes respectively). But for nearly two hours in between, the programming averaged just under 6 minutes per segment (minimum 4, maximum 8).

For anyone who cares, the commercials ran 2-4 minutes per break (average just under 3 1/2).

Remember when there were only 4-5 commercial breaks per hour? I feel like companies keep reducing their services just because there's nothing we can do about it. At least I have my DVR. (Ha! See Corporate Rants, part 1.)

Name Change

I changed the blog name from "Random Thoughts" to "Rambling Thoughts." It's so much more appropriate, given my fondness for travel!

I had to edit that from "So much more appropriate..." Why do I tend to drop the subjects from my sentences?

Getting Away

I just returned from a weekend away, and I'm already counting the days until my next trip (nine!). At the same time, I've been scheming (unsuccessfully) to get an overseas business trip. My friend and I are trying to plan a long trip in November. I'm yearning to go visit a bunch of friends I've made on various business trips recently.

Somehow these trips have started to feel more like my "real" life than my real life does. On trips, I work less (or not at all), I grab every opportunity for a new experience, I'm fearless, I make new friends and find opportunities for romance. It's the "me" I want to be.

I wish I could tuck my travel attitude into my suitcase to bring home with me.

Going Home

Going home is usually easy for me, but Mother's Day weekend was rough. It was my first time in my parents' new house, and I kept driving by the house I grew up in, seeing the new owners' moving trucks. It was bittersweet because I do love the new house, which has more room for my brother and his family to visit at the same time as me. This was the first time my parents could have us all visit without giving up their own room.

*snip from original post*

The last year has presented a series of revelations of how fragile life is and how little it takes to turn it upside down: a few seconds in front of a driver who's not paying attention, a phone call with an abnormal test result, and everything changes. Can the good things also strike like a lightning bolt? I'd like to think so.

Red Betty / Red Beauty

There were no grand coincidences, no evidence of the hand of fate at work in forgetting my license on my recent work trip. However, it did lead to some fun moments and my acquaintance with Betty, or Red Betty, as I like to call her.

Betty was rented by a group of Australians attending the same work event as me. The three strapping men were expecting to rent a comfortable four-door car in Salt Lake City when the driver was seduced by the offer of a red Mustang, a classic American muscle car. Over the objections of the guy who would have to cram into the back, they upgraded to the car that was quickly christened Betty.

At the beginning of the week, I learned that they were returning to the airport Thursday night, which was perfect timing for me. I didn't realize when I asked for a ride how much stuff these guys would buy! Thanks to the weak American dollar, they acquired motorcycle boots, new clothes, a PS3, and some kind of large guitar-based PS3 accessory. The car's trunk was full, and the guitar and a suitcase were spilling over into the interior of the car.

We spent a hysterical five minutes trying to cram everyone and everything in. First I was in the backseat with an Aussie and a suitcase, with the guy in the front holding the guitar. However, he once he got the guitar in his lap, he couldn't reach the door handle to pull it shut. The eventual solution was to put me in the front, seat fully forward, and jimmy the two guys into the back with a suitcase and the guitar. They each had an inch of forehead barely peeping over the top of the packages.

By the time I'd spent the hour's ride to the airport getting intimately acquainted with Betty's dashboard, I'd gotten fond of her myself. We arranged for me to take over the rental and "keep her in the family." The guys hopped their plane after a few fond farewells, and Betty and I headed south.

I took many pictures of Betty in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks, and we logged nearly 800 miles together on the road. It turned out to be Betty's last hurrah as a rental car; she was sent off to auction when I returned her to Hertz. I like to think the story has a Black Beauty sort of ending: she's now retired from her hard life of servitude to an easy life of washes and waxes and drives on curvy roads.