April 2003

April 18, 2003
So, Jesus didn't so much die for our sins as he did so that we could dress up like crayons.

Interesting.

Purple's nice, but I would have gone with burnt umber. These guys look like Grover's fucking Republican Guard.

April 15, 2003
In 1998, I moved to Massachusetts from Pittsburgh, PA. (where I moved from Hackensack, NJ, where I moved from Hollywood, CA, where I moved from Webster, NY.)

I moved to New England with the intention of making a living creating web sites. I had already made one before arriving here (an earlier iteration of the site you see before you now), so I figured I could probably make a bunch more. My sister and her family took me in while I set about finding work. That's a debt that can never be repaid.

Not certain exactly how to proceed, I cold-e-mailed roughly ten bazillion web design firms in the Greater New England area (in '98, there were plenty of 'em) offering my sterling services. A few replied. From those, a few actually offered work.

In fairly short order, I started my first freelancing job. I'm fairly certain my employment was secured because of my offer to be the company's ski team's mascot. Big fuzzy suit, cheerleading, whatever. I had no fucking shame. Maybe... maybe less than I have now (which I guess would have to be true). Anyways, my first official-like web gig. Go me.

The person I would be reporting to at the firm, who would be managing me, was the fastest-talking guy I had ever met. Like, dizzy-fast. Like, "habba habba habba what the fuck did he just say?" fast. (Incidentally, I had never heard the term "dub-dub-dub" used as verbal shorthand for "www" before talking with him, and I'll never forget trying to go to a URL starting with d-u-b-d-u-b-d-u-b.) He also knew a fucking unbelievable amount about making web sites. It friggin poured out of this guy like white light pours out of Christ in those Bible movies. It was daunting.

Since I was telecommuting, we spent a fair amount of time on the telephone - him checking up on my progress, and me asking him "first-grader" questions about HTML. Stuff like, "Um, the page... looks, uh, different in the Netscape Navigator web page browser than it does in the Microsoft Internet Explorer web page browser... Um. Do you know why?" Shit that should've gotten my ass canned on the first day.

I lost count of the number of times I left my sister's house in frustration to go walking around the yard, convinced I had made a big mistake (a big mistake not-so-artfully stacked on top of a swaying tower of big mistakes) in moving here, in taking this job. I don't know if you've ever had that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach - the one that says, "You're a fraud. You have no idea what you're doing. Give up. (repeat)" - but I had it several times a day through that whole first gig. I know I tried desperately to sound like everything was going according to plan when I called the boss, but really, how many times can you ask questions you shouldn't be asking before your ineptitude is evinced for all to see? I'm sure it didn't take long for my manager at the company to put together that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

Still, through his good will, he walked me through that project - all the way to completion - with more patience, more assistance, more guidance, more encouragement, and more humor (though, at that time, I may not have recognized it through my clenched jaw) than I could ever possibly deserve.

There are times in your life when you need help, and you have no idea how to ask for it. And someone will help you.

That help you receive is a piece of grace. Don't overlook it.

Happy Birthday, Wayne. Thank you for everything.

April 11, 2003
In 1915, in the periodical McClures Magazine, Booth Tarkington wrote of fellow author Morgan Robertson, "His stories are bully, his sea is foamy, and his men have hair on their chests."

Happy Friday.

April 5, 2003
Lenny Kravitz has released a new anti-war song, "We Want Peace," on the Rock the Vote web site.

Kravitz, who admits he hasn't voted in several years, recruited a few guest musicians for the track - Iraqi pop singer Kadim Al Sahir lends his vocal talents, Palestinian musician Simon Shaheen plays the 'oud and violin, and German artist Adolf Hitler sits in on the Jew's harp.

Fabulous, Lenny. Move those records, babe.

April 3, 2003

Rough helmet.