1999 was a total loss. At least that's what I'm reporting to the IRS. I turned 30, Dawn's education went ballistic, my career gambit went up in flames, and we visited the Canary Islands. We could have done without any of it.
For some reason, people ask me why Dawn is still going to school, and the best answer I have is that she wants to. That is to say, I have no idea either. But she's been moving about two classes per semester towards a bachelor's degree and was about fifteen classes away from graduating when her school announced it was losing its accreditation next year. The options were fairly simple: Forget about the degree, transfer to the only other school in LA offering a degree in Legal Studies (about 60 miles away), or try to take fifteen classes in one year while working full-time. Dawn chose the latter.
Fortunately her company let her step back her hours, but unfortunately they forgot to step back her workload as well, so now she has to do 40 hours of work in 30 hours while taking five classes. So if you haven't heard from Dawn lately (or if you have heard from her and were wondering why she seemed manic-depressive), now you know.
Meanwhile, I've been busy grappling with my own future. Like most people, I didn't want to be a "suit" until I realized that was where the money was. So I was given a "manager" title and I offered advice, gave opinions, tried to act "managerly," but none of it was even remotely helpful or useful. Then one day, I got it: Self-actualization, understanding ourselves so we can leverage our strengths to become better. Not the "that which doesn't kill me makes me stronger" better, but the "I accomplished something worthwhile" better. Eastern religion meets Western capitalism; I loved it. My company thought self-actualization was something dirty, and I eventually quit.
I joined a company with the understanding that I would not have to travel, and spent the first six months in the Bay Area. While this was a fairly bleak time, one good thing came out of it: I got to know my brother. You hear stories about family members falling out, but I don’t think we never came together in the first place. If it weren’t for pictures, you'd never believe we grew up together. I hadn't even planned on telling him I'd be in the Bay Area, until my mother squealed. Mark's girlfriend, I'm sure, thought I was a nut, but her two kids liked me so it was okay. Dawn and I even made a special trip to see them when they moved to Sacramento.
In March I opened discussions with my old company. This may seem a little strange, but I still had credibility there, which was what I needed if I wanted a position of influence. In July I flew out to Chicago and spent the entire day talking with my would-be boss about the future, especially mine. I left with a verbal job offer but for various reasons I would not start until October. Meanwhile I was gainfully employed, although terminally bored, and I just treaded water for a few months. On the last day of September I called my new boss to formalize everything, only to find out he was quitting. I could have still come on board, but it was clear that would be a mistake, and I was, I realized, in exactly the same place I had been fifteen months ago.
That's not entirely true: I'd read several books which reinforced my beliefs on self-actualization, but left me in a conundrum: If I was going to utilize my strengths, I should be pursuing technical roles, even though I was more interested in management. After much soul-searching, I finally admitted the only reason I was working was for money, and that I'd finally come full-circle: All I wanted from my first job was a good paycheck, then I pursued all sorts of other intangibles: type of work, career opportunities, co-workers, company mission, etc. Now I'm back at the beginning, looking for a job that pays the most. Next year I will be pursuing independent consulting because, in addition to the money, there is often free time between projects which I hope to use to start some projects of my own. (There's a 200-year-old house in Pennsylvania with my name on it. I don't know where it got my name, but it's there nonetheless.)
Now I'm sure my revelation that I work for money won't become the 11th Commandment (although I’d nominate it for the Golden Rule), but I think it's easy to lose sight of such basics on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps it's because I've turned thirty, perhaps it's because my ex-girlfriend called out of the blue after eight years and said "I didn't ruin your life, did I?", or perhaps it's because I've just been bored, but I've become very moody and introspective lately. Life, I've realized, is on a need-to-know basis. So if you haven't heard from me lately (or if you have heard from me and were wondering why I seemed manic-depressive), now you know.
We went to the Canary Islands, off the coast of Morocco, which helped me to both appreciate America and revile Americans. The stated purpose for the trip was to see the Leonid meteor storm, but since we were cut off by cloud cover, I won't dwell on that. But the trip, my first abroad in ten years (ignoring a one-day stint in Ensenada), forced me to contemplate the nature of America. Especially in Morocco, where the standard of living was very low, it was very easy to look past the history and the culture and just think, "there, but for the grace of God, go I." Economists, politicians, and bigots could explain at length why these people are the way they are, but what it all comes down to was that they were born into these circumstances, and anybody else would be in the same predicament. Life really is a blind crap shoot.
And finally, this was almost the Christmas Letter that never was. I find I only appreciate two types of writing: emotional honesty, and cleverness. So I tried to be honest and witty; to share my thoughts and reveal my soul (except for all the twisted and perverted stuff, of course; this is a Christmas letter). After about twenty drafts I was miserable, despondent, and ready to scrap the whole thing. Fortunately my uncle set me straight when he said, "Quit grandstanding, you jackass. Don't compare yourself to the great writers, because you're never going to be one of them. Just be you, and screw 'em if they can't take a joke." Now that's what I appreciate--emotional honesty. He also said to forget about putting Alex on the Christmas card. Blaspheme.
So here’s hoping we all get it right in the next millennium. Or, at least, that our toasters are Y2K compliant.
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