Today I ran to the bank to sign some official papers. I had my pen-in-hand and I was ready to sign when the bank officer offered me a pen, and my business associate said “She’s always prepared.”

Aside from the “Time is my one finite commodity” email signature, my comments in my blog about time, and the sermon I gave at Toastmasters about time, I always carry a pen. Having my pen in my hand and ready was the efficiency borne of my awareness of time and not wanting to waste it for anyone. Why I had a pen with me is another story, aside from knowing I was going to the bank specifically to sign something.

I started writing poems and stories when I was 11 years old. While my muse has been blissfully quiet lately, I spent about 15 years under the constant demands of Erato, the harsh mistress of writing. Poems came to me at all times of the day, and on some occasions woke me from deep slumbers to make me press pen to paper in the darkest hours of the night. If my hand cramped and my eyes teared, it was nothing next to the torment of the poems, lyrics, inspirations, that came to me when I had nothing to record them with. Slave to this strict mistress, I obediently began to carry something — anything — with which I could write. She had no patience for ink blots, pens that skipped, cluttered paper, or any other excuses. When she demanded, I would write.

While under her thrall I learned to choose better pens, to choose better notebooks, to keep these instruments handy. I have a book and pen next to my bed, so that if something should take hold of me in those chilling wee hours, I wouldn’t have to shiver at my desk.

One of my inspirations literally came to me in those dark hours — lyrics for a song (perhaps her cohort Euterpe had decided to borrow me?) — and I sat in my kitchen singing, humming, laboring and pouring out a piece inspired by the tale of Beauty and the Beast and neo-pagan symbolisms. Thankfully I haven’t tried recording the song

Regardless, you’ll notice that whenever I’m without a pen I get a haunted look of fear on my face, and perhaps I seem distracted. That’s me praying earnestly to the Lady that she not strike me with inspiration at that moment.

[tags]creative,writing,freedom,gratitude,history,religion,spirituality,inspiration,personal[/tags]

http://www.eclectictech.net/wiki/Learn/GeekYourResume

Why didn’t I put this in my blog? I have no idea.

I wrote an awesome article for geeks (and anyone) on the steps & styles needed to build a proper resume. Back in May of ‘06. I guess I was explaining the process to someone and went whole-hog and created an article on my website for it, and I forgot to mention it in my blog for all of Technocrati to see.

With so much competition, your resume is the first thing people are going to see. You want to stand at least head, if not head & shoulders, above your fellow jobseekers. I spent time as a tech recruiter, and I say that probably 50% or more of the geeky job-seeking force needs a serious Resume 101 class. Since you’re not likely to stop playing World of Warcraft long enough to take a class, but still need a job to pay the monthly fees (not to mention electricity and ISP), I’m going to give you a little boot camp (or a boot somewhere else) so you can get up-to-date.

I’ve included Word and Open Office resume templates with my Geek Your Resume article. With style sheets. I expect you all to get off your collective buttocks and look for work. Now.

Good luck out there, soldiers! Make me proud!

[tags]resume,job hunting, employment,humor,information,employee,essay,how to,geek,programming,tutorial,rant,competition[/tags]

Often the topic of starting a “great” web business comes up, and in my age and wisdom (being both old to be a freelance web programmer, and one of a minority of women in the field) — there’s two ways to go: thinking “in” the box = come up with new brilliant technology, patent it and hire people to program it better and faster than anyone else can so you can quickly market it. If it climbs to the top before it is cloned you become the next target for people trying to out-do your website. This track is getting VERY old, VERY fast. Mainly you and your absolute best friend need to be programmers to do this (think Microsoft, Google…) because you can’t trust anyone with your terrific idea. Also it has to be so ground-breaking that only the best (read: smartest, wise, long-range thinking) of venture capitalists will see the end of the rainbow where the pot of gold sits. If it is easy to get the funding for your idea, someone probably is making it already.

Thinking “out” of the box = coming up with a way to use normal everyday technology to do something that fills — rather than creates — a real need or niche. It’s cheaper, faster, and if it really IS filling a need, it’s going to spread by word-of-mouth, and it won’t be “just a fad”. This technique aims lower and comes in under the radar — no billion dollar baby here — but it’s safer, less stressful, and you don’t have to be a programmer, generally speaking. The programmer is unlikely to run off with your baby if it doesn’t look like a “google killer”.

The problem is that great ideas are easy — the means to really make them work is the harder part (invention = 1% inspiration, 99% perspiration). I’m frustrated with people who want to “share” the rewards of their great web program idea (equity sharing) of up to 50%, but won’t be doing any of the actual work to make it hang together and be practical. If someone comes to me with a truly great idea (and I have NDA’s if they don’t), I can find them a great programming team, but the team will probably want cash on delivery, not equity. More “google killers” die every day than make it. They’re not original ideas, and if a site dies before it makes money, there’s no equity and it’s a huge waste of the programmer’s time.

Imagine that someone turned to you and said, “I have a great idea for a newspaper! I’ll give you the ideas, you develop the newspaper and run it, staff it, write for it, etc. I’ll give you 50%.” That approach frustrates me. People don’t get it. I can translate it to dozens of other fields — “I have a great plan for a house, you just have to build it. Then you can live on the top floor, and I’ll live downstairs. Ok?”

Somewhere in there people are cheapening the act of programming. After all, it’s just bits and bytes, right???

The Internet mimics life in a “survival of the fittest” way. I don’t pretend to know what’s “cool” or “hot” anymore — I work with “useful” I won’t get rich but that wasn’t in my personal game plan. I have my own great or good ideas, some might make me money, some won’t but will look really good on my resume.

Then there’s the flip side of this: If you’re not the head of the programming team and you’ve paid someone to build the google killer — what if it works? Now you have to program new features, fix bugs, etc. You either need to re-hire the same team, or get a programming staff. You go on Craigslist and choose the person who claims somehow to be able to fulfill your great Internet dream, but if you have this beautiful web baby together, are you really ready for that long-term commitment with a total dweeb with no business sense?

I can’t wait to be so busy with people I’ve looked in the eye and shaken the hands of that I can’t afford to even GLANCE at another Craigslist ad. I love my clients dearly, but you don’t know how rare it was that the people I dealt with BECAME clients at all. I certainly wouldn’t want to become business partners with some guy with the “next killer app” idea and had to actually look on Craigslist for a programmer. So wait — your only experience is the front end of websites as a user, and you think you can somehow manage a killer web application programming team? That’s an incredibly poor business move and you’ll get laughed out of the bank. And you want the programmer to work for nothing but equity? That’s spec work.

That brings me to another thing: Have you ever had one of those managers who knows absolutely nothing about what you do? It happens in IT all the time, but much less so in other professions. BUT if you’ve ever heard a nurse bitch that someone “stepped in” as the head of the nursing staff from a business-only background, you might get the idea. In most large corps — and this is a place where Microsoft does NOT get bad rankings — the heads of the corporation have NO IDEA how to produce their main products…much less have a clue what their IT department does sitting at their computers all day.

It’s never a good idea to manage something you don’t understand. Ever.

On that note, are you interested in a basic web programming class?

Doctors have this problem. The moment someone at the party finds out they’re a doctor, they get the “Oh, it hurts when I do this…” request for free advice.

I get a little less of it than they do, since there aren’t as many Mac owners, but would you believe my dentist did that to me? Did she think I was going to offer to come to her house to fix her ailing Mac for her? Or was she offering me to take the Mac home with me and keep it?

Macs are less popular than bodies, but I’m sure every PC tech at a party has this problem. It’s never worse than when your family finds out that you do computer support, however. I don’t, really DO computer support, not really. Certainly not for PCs. But the moment they hear geeky terminology, the relatives come out of the woodwork with stupid Windows questions that a Mac maven like myself can best answer with “Hrm. Sounds bad. Why don’t you buy a Mac?” which of course leads to SOMEONE eventually actually getting a Mac. Now you’re in business. Without getting paid.

My kids have Macs, because if I gave them PCs and they broke, got viruses, etc. I would just want to install Linux on them and be done with it, and the expensive games would then be worthless.

Considering the amount of time they spend with the games, maybe that’s not such a bad thing, after all — however, I digress…

Whenever there’s a problem with the computers, the kids run in with panic, or determination to break any boundaries I assert in an attempt of procuring aid for their electronic addictions. Today my son’s computer isn’t on the network, so he has no Internet. Oh, what horror! I’m sorta happy. And exhausted. I certainly do NOT want to spend my wee-morning hours figuring out why his computer won’t talk to our wireless device. My laptop is fine, he needs to be on a bus soon, so who cares? Obviously he does, but you get the point.

Somehow the computer has become a right rather than a privilege.

My mom got my old iBook. After her first 10 questions or so, she’s been relatively quiet, until lately when it seems the modem may have died. That’s a hardware issue I can’t debug or fix since I’m 1000 miles away. So mom’s pretty much been golden.

However, I see everyone from linux to PC techies running around fixing their family’s computer issues. I’m not sure the doctors take care of family members in this way — aside from the stupid party questions, how many family members want to take their clothes off in front of you and be touched, sometimes rather intimately, by their son/father/sister/cousin? So somehow, for the doctors, I think the buck stops at free advice.

There seems to be a law of the universe that for every geek there’s at least one completely technically inept relative who has the lead touch and every computer or network they put their paws on breaks. Then there’s the Internet un-savvy relative who blunders into adware and spyware, bad offers, identity theft, etc. And the mother — usually it’s the mother (mine’s guilty too) who likes to pass along their spam, chain letters, petitions, jokes, etc. so they can share their inbox pain with you.

If you’re the black geek of the family, you get the call, the email, the questions, and have to travel to the relative’s house to do unpaid charity service in the name of family peace. After all, didn’t you ask the person with the green thumb in the family to do your landscaping? You didn’t? Didn’t you ask the one most talented in the kitchen to come over and cook for your Thanksgiving meals? No? What about Aunt Martha? She’s a neat freak and keeps a perfect house — didn’t you ask her to wash your kids’ underwear and scrub your kitchen floor? You didn’t do that either? Sheesh, what type of relative ARE you??

What is it that makes being a geek one of the few areas that people can trounce your personal, familial and professional boundaries? Doesn’t Uncle James know that if you’re fixing his computer, you’re bound to find his porn folder?

I think it’s one of the mysteries of the family moral and ethical system that I won’t understand. I mean, my mom’s a nurse, but I never asked her to take my blood pressure, administer an enema, draw blood, or give me chemo.

My family’s pretty good on the scale of things, too. I watch others suffer under the burden of having done the family a “favor” and set up a computer network, which then they also must support when it’s broken. It’s true that people have much more respect when you set up a fee schedule. Suddenly they think twice about what they’re breaking on the, computer or network, since they’ll have to pay. Otherwise it’s “what the heck, my nephew will fix it.”

Maybe it’s a good thing my family hasn’t really realized that I do graphic and 3d design. All I need is for requests for unpaid or speculative work in the design area. Make my logo, do my website, I need a brochure…No one seems to think that time is limited, no one wants to take their work home with them, and we all need money.

[tags]family, rant, humor, life, interruptions, personal, prices, truth, spec work[/tags]

It’s really messed up how programming can follow real life. I think maybe I’ve been programming too much lately. It doesn’t matter. In the car, I was working on the Magical Chain Mail Vest (a shiny crochet object to be gifted to my son as part of my plot to enrich his imagination), and it’s a very loose design (anyone who has seen the bows and arrows hat — that’s the stitch pattern I’m using for the vest — I’ll post the directions if it comes out OK.)

I’ve been watching how quickly this vest is taking shape. But it’s a nonsense vest. It’s for show, for play. It’s not going to be WARM, any more than the “bows and arrows hat” is warm. It’s not “real” it’s a vague vacuous waste. To be real, it would need to be re-done entirely (and probably in a different yarn).

I tried “rapid application development” (RAD) tools a few times. Not RUBY on RAILS but equivalents in PHP. I’ve tried RAD for a real open-source project (my Contract Manager application, still in Alpha, but taking good shape right now — note I ripped it apart and started again without the RAD this time and it’s come much(!) further). And when it comes down to it, it’s just not robust. It’s not real. It takes shape very quickly, but it’s never going to keep you warm in the winter. Very much like quickly creating a magical chain mail vest from Freecycle freebie yarn for my son. I’m sitting in the car crocheting and suddenly the yarn and the work is the equivalent of Cake or Ruby on Rails, and it all comes together — it all makes sense.

I had a similar revelation today. It’s Saturday. Time for my own projects. Time for Laundry. Time to kick back and relax (yeah, right!). I got up, started working on a new quicky open-source idea, got distracted by Guy Kawasaki’s blog entry for online reviews, started looking into getting on Yelp to place reviews and see what it’s like, got distracted by Technocrati, and now I’m posting to my blog and doing blog upkeep.

My partner, who had to rush out to meet a friend today, called and asked what I was up to. I said something like “I’m being me!” Huh? “I keep getting tangented — it’s like when you start a new clause with an open bracket in a program and you forget to close it. Eventually you’re nested 10 IF statements (etc) deep and you forgot how you got there, and what you need to do to close out your brackets.”

When actually programming, both my partner and I start out every new “clause” in a program by typing the open and close brackets — even in HTML I do this — then backspacing to type the contents. “if ()” hit backspace then type. It doesn’t mean you’ll remember everything you wanted to do in every level of the loop if it gets deep, but it does mean that you won’t get nasty errors — just bugs

I wish I could do that in real life. I have a program to finish — I have gotten most of the laundry READY but not run any loads yet, I would like to go out, I need to check the mailbox, and I want to work on getting something going (maybe a newsletter to my clients) so people give my business good reviews on a variety of websites, so I can request referrals, and so I can return the favors for them. Oy vey! It’s Saturday, so I think the laundry then the mail come first.

[tags]programming, humor, life, clients, networking[/tags]

I’ve been busy this month, but as I always say “This month’s work is next month’s money.” Whether a 15 day billing cycle or a 30 day billing cycle, with or without a late fee, and so on, by the time the job is done and billable, and then by the time you get the payment and take it to the bank, it’s next month.

Last month was really rough. That means this month I’m terribly poor. I’ve gotten at least 3 new awesome clients, all giving me repeat work, and all paying me on-time. But there’s still this cash flow problem.

So here’s how the day goes: If I don’t have a morning business networking meeting, my 6am to 9am slot is taken by email, breakfast, and catching up on news and potential work. If I have a project that has loose strings, I tie them. Ship out something I said I would have on their desk by morning. Surprise a client with something done ahead of schedule — those are the best. Sometimes something inspirational came up while I was asleep and begs for my attention. This month I actually get to sleep in — my son’s at my mom’s house way far out of state, so I can sleep til 7:30 if I don’t have a morning business meeting.

From 9am-12pm I return calls, do job intake as needed, follow up on people answering their morning email, send out invoices, catch up on accounting work, work on billable projects due by the afternoon, etc.

Sometimes around 1pm I have a business lunch with someone. Other times, I take a long lunch break since I was up since 6am and I’ve hit a 6 hour mark for working during the day.

At 2pm I check the mail. This is the important part of this rant.

From 2-5 I’m doing billable projects, answering phone calls from late risers, and checking the news feeds again.

Now, back to 2pm — when school is in session, more like 2:30pm, when my son gets home. The mail comes around or before 2. I think. No one really can tell if or when the mail is going to come. Or when. Sometimes it’s here around noon. Sometimes it’s a little late. But most days if we check for mail at 2-2:30pm it’s here. It’s my one chance for exercise every day. About 1/10 mile round trip walk to the mailbox.

Today the mail isn’t here. The mailbox is empty. My wallet is filled with cobwebs, the banks are about to send me threatening letters, every bill under the sun is about to come due, and I had to beg my utility provider to PLEASE waive my late fee. I open the creaky door to look again. Empty. A third time? Yep, that mailbox sure is empty. I stand in disbelief squinting against the sun and look down the block. Surely the postal person is coming. Late over a latte or ice cream? If there are packages, the postal worker is here around 10am — other days before 2pm.

How do you deal with an empty mailbox at 2pm. 2pm is perfect — enough time to drive to the bank with that check that finally came. 2:30 is pushing it. At 2pm if the mailbox is empty, you have to run back to the mailbox at 2:30pm, wallet, keys for the car, checkbook in hand — ready to flee to get to the bank by 3.

I hate being desperate.

But what if it’s still empty at 2:30pm?

You begin to wonder what’s going on. There are a billion outstanding invoices. People say the check’s on it’s way (it went to the accounting department, it was sent…), but I get enough junk mail, don’t I? Why would it be EMPTY? The days where it’s all junk mail, at least I know the mail CAME. Maybe the answer is more junk mail. Publisher’s Clearing House? I was just thinking to tell the credit bureaus to stop giving my info out to credit card agencies looking to get me in debt to them. Save your paper! but now I can’t tell whether the mail came today or not. Is there a check? I have this daily Schrodinger’s cat syndrome when I open my mailbox — is my bank account doomed to die or will it be resurrected for another week? Maybe I can convince the postwoman to leave me a post-it saying “Sorry, none for you today!”

I worry that maybe someone’s beating me to the mailbox. An ol’ game of bait and switch. That’s not today’s mail — it’s yesterday’s mail. I’ll get today’s mail tomorrow.

Maybe I can blame it on my kids. It’s all my kid’s fault. If I didn’t have kids, I wouldn’t have bills, and I wouldn’t need to charge people money — I’d do it all for free and liberate the world from lame static websites in the name of the tech revolution! Somewhere there’s a flaw in that logic, but in my panic over my bank balance, I guess I’m not thinking clearly.

This month’s work is next month’s money. I’ll be bluddy rich next month. Rolling in it. I better have enough work next month to get me through October.

In the meantime, what’s the best source of snail mail spam?

2:30pm. It’s still empty.

[tags]rant,money,clients,time,humor[/tags]

Mowing lawns could be hazardous to your health.

Take a somewhat out-of-shape person, give them insufficient liquids, 85 degree (Farenheit) or higher temperatures in the late day sun, about an acre of lawn and a mower and you have a recipe for disaster.

Make that person pig-headedly stubborn about getting the job done in one continuous grueling bout of sheer testosterone and you have heatstroke.

I’m not writing to extoll the virtues or dangers of heatstroke. I want to leave that to the experts.

I want to extoll the virtues of natural lawn mowers.

No more gas guzzling noise polluting mulch making hay spewing 1.5 horsepower rack-n-pinion steering (*cough*) bag-toting machine fury!

No. Just a little fur, some neighborly tolerance, and patience.

I have several lawn mowers. Woodchucks. Rabbits. Deer. If it weren’t for the sheer overwhelming SIZE of the lawn, woefully seeded with absolutely useless grass, I probably wouldn’t need a lawn mower at all. Give me ground ivy, chickweed, mint, wood sorrel, plantain, dandelion and cleavers any day over 100% useless indigestible grass. While we must have grass, since it’s not my lawn, then at least we have our natural lawn mowers. I even have photos — I’ve just been too bloody lazy to put my photos into the blog. I have to actually get off my butt and do it

These lawn mowers have many myriad benefits:

• they’re eating what most people hate anyway. The woodchuck and rabbits specialize in the little plants between the blades of grass, like dandelions — the ones the mechanical mower misses anyway. The deer eats young grass — enough deer and there’s no grass to mow in the first place!
• instant composting. As these critters graze, they leave behind yesterdays morsels in a ready-to-use form. Bonus: herbivores don’t have i-coli bacteria. The compost is ready for your soil, worms, and all other manners of nitrogen-hungry life
• They’re cheap: (what!! No nested lists GRRRR)
• You don’t have to pay at the pump
• you don’t need to buy or maintain machinery
• you don’t add extra wear to your car fetching mowers, oil, gas, parts or taking it in for repairs
• you no longer need to buy fertilizer
• You don’t pollute the environment
• When these lawn mowers break down, they biodegrade quickly — no need to get them hauled away in the trash and have them take up room in a landfill
• they replace themselves
• they provide hours of amusement and possibly food and exercise to your pets

Anyway, here’s a billion blessings to our lawn mowers — they’re welcome here any time — as long as they stay the HECK out of my garden.

[tags]critters, environment, grass, dandelions, plantain, wood sorrel, gratitude, humor, woodchuck, rabbit, deer, rant, expenses, garden, lawn, recycling[/tags]

You were there. You remember.

The humiliation, the pain, the sheer overwhelming bulk of it. Your room.

Your room was a mess. Years of accumulated junk and toys, half-eaten crackers, cups and plates. It doesn’t matter if you were 2 or 20. You had done it: you made a big big mess.

There were your parents. Whether you were 2 or 20, their hulking bulk filled the sky as they glared down at you, tiny lightning bolts flashing in their eyes, and the Commandment came down like thunder, “CLEAN YOUR ROOM!”

As they stormed from the room, you surveyed the cluttered landfill, wondering whether you should start at the lump you think is your bed, or whether maybe it would be better to start from the top and work your way down, after all a lot of towers will be crumbling anyway. Overwhelmed, baffled at the Commandment, and with no good way to tackle the chaos, eyes moist with frustration and helplessness, you wonder why your parents have suddenly abandoned you, and made this unreasonable and surely irrational declaration. After an hour of helplessly transferring items from one pile to another, you turn your eyes upwards, ready to pray for salvation, but instead you swear a solemn oath on your favorite teddy, or maybe your iPod, Never EVER to do this to your children. Your children’s room will be their own, safe from worries about parents and cleaning. They can do whatever they want with their room. You don’t care how dirty it gets.

Years Go By…

You have your bundle of joy now. You watch your child learn to crawl, to walk. At 9 months you laugh when your child experiments with gravity, but then your child is in the high chair and decides to experiment with the oatmeal. A little less amused the 10th time, now that you’ve reinforced the behavior by being jovial and putting on a housecleaning show in front of your toddler, you finally frown at your child, and sternly say “NO!”

Fast-forward. Now your child is 2 — or 20. You walk into the room to trip on a toy car, or to be admonished for stepping on their favorite Teddy. Maybe you step on their iPod. It’s ok this time, you make it to the bed, tuck your bundle of joy in, realize the covers are in a huge knot, try to unravel them for the 100th time. You turn out the light, and narrowly escape the room with your life.

You do this over and over. It doesn’t matter if you do it 20 or 200 times. There’s going to be the one time you don’t make it out unscathed.

Maybe it was a wooden block, an ice skate, a pencil point, a 4-sided-die. Whatever it was, you stepped directly on it and the stabbing pain went right up your leg. With the pain came a moment of clarity — or was that insanity? The room is a hazard! The room has gone untouched for far too long, you’ve put up with it for far too long, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!! There is no way to resist the onrushing waves tossed about by years of neglect and insult. You pay for the house, you pay for their things, you have cleaned up after them, dressed them, bathed them, dedicated endless hours for years and years to keeping them neat, tidy, and healthy. And THIS is how they repay you? Tossing all your labors out the door, carelessly strewing items around the room, inviting vermin with dirty plates and half eaten vittles, and not even trying to make an inviting path to allow you in?!

you. Have. HAD. IT.

Like a Valkyrie or Odin himself, shaking a spear and shouting out a war-cry you denounce your naive youthful oath, and crash down like the very wrath of the gods has filled you, screaming like a banshee, and you make every declaration under the sun swearing that “IF you don’t CLEAN THIS ROOM….” and ending it with whatever spills out of your wraith-strewn maw. You can’t even remember. It doesn’t really matter.

After the one fell incident, you become a police officer, keeping law and order — your law and your order — with regard to the tidiness of the room. With every foot your child drags, your threats and declarations escalate into a shrill madness that causes even your own inner child to flee in wild panic. Every speck of dust or item out of place induces threats and limitations: no dessert, no tv, no computer, no movies, no car, no iPod, no GameBoy, no going out, no phone calls, no No NO.

And it doesn’t matter if your kid is 2 or 20. In the face of your irrational exhibition, the child will sulk away and make an oath to a long forgotten deity that they will never, ever, tell their child to clean their room…

[tags]humor,truth,personal,rant[/tags]