Musings of the Sun

This morning walking the dog, I was inspired by the rising sun to write the following. Enjoy.

1. The Chicago sun woke. Like a tarnished crown it crept slowly past the concrete curtain. “This is it’s walk of shame,” I thought, “for a promiscuous night among the stars blanketed in the darkest sins.” But it repented to the sky and the clouds skulked from its glory. At high noon I had the revelation, “This is the halo of humanity singing across the heavens and we are pleased.”

2. My sun stirs in her womb. It’s heart rises and rests below hers. I no longer know east or west, north or south as all direction comes from her. Her future is my altar at which I wish for riches beyond wealth. I wish for health. I wish for miraculous laughter and a smile’s salvation. She turns my dreams into prayers. She is my king and my queen. She is the babe that made me god of a universe I feel to small to fathom. She is too large for my heart; too heavy for my thoughts. She is the completion of my life. I am the divine father of a future I feel too human to protect. The beginning of my forever rolls in her womb.

94 floors of glory.

I ran up the John Hancock today. 94 floors total. It was tiring, but fun. It was definitely a lot easier than a half-marathon. I took a few videos on my way up. I’ve posted it below. Enjoy!

Worker’s High

I’m a work-aholic. It’s true. I can’t deny it. But after briefly reading Tribes by Seth Godin, I found the words to explain why I’m OK with it:

How Was Your Day?

It’s four a.m. and I can’t sleep. So I’m sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Jamaica, checking my e-mail.

A couple walks by, obviously on their way to bed, having pushed the idea of vacation a little too hard. The woman looks over to me and, in a harsh whisper a littler quieter than a yell, says to her friend, “Isn’t hat sad? That guy comes here on vacation and he’s stuck checking his e-mail. He can’t even enjoy his two weeks off.”

I think the real question – the one they probably wouldn’t want to answer – was, “Isn’t it sad that we have a job where we spend two weeks avoiding the stuff we have to do fifty weeks a year?”

It took me a long time to figure out why I was so happy to be checking my e-mail in the middle of the night. It had to do with passion. Other than sleeping, there was nothing I’d rather have been doing in that moment – because I’m lucky enough to have a job where I get to make change happen. Even though I don’t have many people working for me, I’m in the business of leading people, taking them somewhere we want to go. (pp. 100-101)

I knew it was passion, but Seth finally gave me a few words I could use to answer a few questions that are typically loaded with judgment and a bit of concern. He gave me some language to rebut the nagging expression of someone who hears I have some unused vacation days on December 25th.

“I love my job” is a pretty rare statement to make. And I’ve been in jobs I didn’t love, so I know what it’s like on the other side of that coin. (I’ll attempt to finish this post without writing too many cliches or getting too gooey about my company.) I don’t fret about working late nights, traveling a lot or leaving vacation days on the table. I approach work very differently. I see myself as a marathon runner in the working world.

I don’t get runners. I don’t get running. You move at a relatively slow pace exerting a lot of energy to do so. The environment doesn’t change much and the farther you run, the farther you have to run back. When I explain this to my running friends, they look at me in disbelief. They are addicted to running. They describe what I’ve never felt – “the runner’s high”. Apparently, after running, they feel really good. I once tried to pick up running for this high when I was in college at Northwestern University. I began running from dorms on the north end of campus. Fifteen minutes later, I was panting in Burger King ordering a Whopper Meal with a fruit punch. There is no high for me in running. There is a high for me in working.

Another friend of mine tried to explain to me the concept behind the book The Four Hour Workweek by Timothy Ferris. I haven’t read it, but my friend’s explanation of the goal is “to be able to make the same amount of money you’re making now, but only working four hours a week”. Needless to say, we got into a pretty heated debate. I find nothing wrong with finding efficiencies in my work or managing my time so that what I do now can be done quicker. I can’t imagine stopping at that though. If I reduced my workweek to four hours, may heaven strike me dead if I don’t find some inspiring, challenging, world-changing task that takes me 36 hours or more to manage.

So, I put in a few more hours than the average Joe might want to. I spend a few more nights sorting e-mails or thinking about a project. But while so many people head into the office leaving their passions at home, I get to pack mine with my peanut-butter jelly sandwich and cheese stick. Outside of family, there’s not a whole lot higher than that for me.

When online and offline merge

The schizophrenic nature of our identities is resolving itself. You are no longer one thing in the chatroom, on Myspace or the blogosphere and another in the board room, bedroom or classroom. After years of painful fragmentation, your identity decided to rebel and it got a bit of help from the Internet.

It’s true. The old hay-days of the Internet are long gone. Remember when we used to troll discussion boards and even erotic interactions all under the guise of an assumed identity? Don’t lie. You did it, too. How many user IDs have you seen along the lines of SquishyChic125, GoodwithTools05, or HorseHung69. Perhaps you weren’t trying to be so dark and mysterious, but you were simply taking on a different identity. My first screenname from AOL was BabyBodeen. Despite the silliness of our online labels, they served us well. Through the anonymity of these environments (admit it, it was pretty easy to falsify information on that Yahoo! sign-up form), we could create new identities without the accountability of anyone recognizing us. We used the Internet to role-play. An introverted person offline could act extroverted online. A man could act as a woman and vice versa. The shy nerd could be the tough bully. No one could call us out. It was fantastic if you wanted to escape the constraints of your offline identity.

But when everyone escapes to the same place, no one can escape at all. Writing a paper regarding the role of Facebook on identity formation, I discovered the Internet is no longer an avenue for us to explore an identity we might not otherwise assume. Now, chances are your mom is on Facebook. If not, she’s probably got three or four requests to join in her inbox. Just about everyone else you know is on Facebook, too. With the purpose of social networking sites to strengthen your social network, anonymity is not only archaic – it’s down right impossible and impractical. If you didn’t create a profile that reflected who you are offline, no one would find you online.

Sure, you could still make up an identity. Sure, you could tell all of your friends that you’re alias is ‘John McLovin’ and have them friend you that way, but you don’t. It’s just too much trouble nowadays. Everyone is online and they expect you – the offline you – to be online, too.

And this is where your identity fights back and finds all its little pieces. When your brother, boss and client all follow you on Twitter and are your friend on Facebook and LinkedIn, you can’t be Jeff the Jock AND Jeff the Nerd anymore. If you describe yourself as an avid reader of Pablo Neruda and your best friend knows you actually mean ‘Maxim’, you could get called out. Knowing you could, but not necessarily ever getting called out, is often enough to keep you from embellishing too much. Your identity is reunifying itself whether you like it or not.

And that’s OK. It means the Internet is being accepted into our culture as seamlessly as the telephone and phonebook (remember that doorstop dropped off annually). The Internet is no longer a foreign country but it’s a genuine communication tool. As our identity progresses and pushes us in the direction of being ourselves wherever we are, we will find better ways to leverage the Internet into our every day lives in a way that works for us – whoever we are.

If you’d like to read the full report I wrote, you can download it here: A Review of Identity on Facebook

What do we do now?

Something happened today but I’m not exactly sure what it was. True, we swore Barack H. Obama into office as the 44th President of the United States of America. I watched it at work with my colleagues. The swearing-in, which took only a couple minutes, brought most of us out of our seats to watch intently – standing in solidarity, albeit distantly, with the millions on the mall. After President Obama solemnly swore, many of us went back to our laptops and watched peripherally as if at home on the couch sitting next to our significant others. I listened closely to President Obama’s words.

For the first time, I felt involved in a presidential election. I felt as though my vote counted. When politics came up in discussion at work, my peers often sought me out (if I didn’t initiate it in the first place). I also became known as Obama’s best friend among my family. My grandmother believed that Obama and I were best friends. (She became a citizen this year and voted for Obama). At one point, she asked if Obama visited me when his grandmother passed away. As entertaining, if not somewhat worrisome, as this was, I know my belief in Obama led to it. From the very beginning, I had a gut feeling about Obama and talked about it. He related to me differently than any other candidate ever did.

With a new president that I helped elect, tonight, I find myself asking, “What do we do now?” I want to serve. I want to help. I want to take a more active role in our government. Hell, I want to become President. How? Where? How much? For what cause? I am left a bit overzealous and overwhelmed – not necessarily an ideal combination.

I was reading through a few blogs and it came to me. First, join the conversation. So, I picked up the keyboard. I want this next chapter in our country and my life to be different. I want this to be real. Helpful. Inspirational. Touching.

Next, listen to the conversation. Listen closely and intently to the guiding words of others. My family. My friends. The needs of those less fortunate than I and the wisdom of those with more experience. Sure, I’m a people pleaser, but I need this to be different. I need this to be sincere. Rewarding. Constructive.

I want and need all of this to not be limited to a blog.

I submit this blog as the beginning of the evolution of my identity. I am part of a culture that is increasingly absorbing media of all sorts into its collective identity, interactions and communications. There is no virtual and reality based version of me – but simply me. This is not an online platform for offline ideas. I am the platform and from me, I hope great things will spring.

Thanks for coming to my newly formed blog. I hope you enjoy the rest of my postings. (They all won’t be as heavy as this one – I promise.)