Confessions of a Former PC User

Or how I shut the Windows and took a bite of the Apple

A couple months ago, my trusty Dell Inspiron laptop started showing signs of age, the most annoying of which was random malfunctions of the space bar (turns out it's really hard to type documents when the space bar doesn't work reliably). After discussing with The Hubby, I started research into replacements.

Now, I've always been a PC girl. Never really had monumental difficulties with them. But Macs have always intrigued me. Ultimately, I have wound up with PCs because of price, and once I totaled up the cost of machine and required software I once again shelved the thoughts of a Mac. But just as I was about to close the deal on a middle-of-the-road, but perfectly suitable HP Pavilion, my brother-in-law offered me Office for Mac for free (legally, I assure you). Hmm. And I didn't really need Quicken immediately, right? After all the Dell was still functional and I had time to evaluate options for home finance.

Another trip to BestBuy was in order. I looked at the Macbook (not the Pro). I got a demo. I was sold. One white, 13" Macbook please - just a shade over $1,000 including tax (and I got 18-month financing).

Two months later, the verdict is in: I love this thing. I can't believe it took me so long to buy a Mac. Seriously, I might never buy a PC again.

How do I love my Mac? Let me count the ways (in no particular order).

1. Form Factor

Even folks I know who don't like using Macs admit it: Macs are pretty. Apple may not have the monopoly on sleek design, but they seem to do it consistently better than anybody else. The Macbook is no exception. The thing is all slim lines and rounded corners, no jutting edges or weird angles. When closed, the Macbook is truly "closed," as the curved lid meets curved body. Apple calls it "unibody design." The only "gap" is a small finger ridge to grasp when opening the lid. The result is a sleek, slim rectangle with rounded corners, easy to carry, easy to slide into any kind of bag. Closed, the Macbook is just over 1" thick and it weighs less than 5 pounds, so it's actually, you know, portable. I don't feel like I'm carrying a bag of bricks.

Of course like so many things Apple, the battery is internal - no popping it on and off (Apple critics will mention that this only means I can't change the battery myself). There doesn't seem to be a fan - no vents anywhere and I found the lack of whirring a bit unsettling at first. Yet the bottom of the Macbook stays cooler than any laptop with a fan I've used; I can put it directly on my lap and nothing gets uncomfortably warm.

There is no CD drawer - it's a slot much like a car CD player. So no jutting drawer to bump into things, get blocked, or get snapped off. Of course this also means no lame "my cup holder is broken" tech support jokes, but I can live with that.

The keyboard is not quite "solid surface," but the keys are much lower profile and seem "tighter" than the ones on my Dell, which means less wiggling - and they feel simultaneously sleeker and "grippier" to my fingers. The trackpad is sensitive without being slippery; much more precise and reliable than my Dell (I found myself restarting the Dell to reload the trackpad driver on occasion). The Multi-touch functioning is both intuitive and flexible (and it does pinch thing too); I like how just using a two-finger swipe scrolls, instead of having to scroll along the edge of the pad.

At first I couldn't figure out where the power jack was. Where was the standard round hole? After finding the MagSafe Power Adapter, I realized this might be the most genius power attachment ever. You mean when my kid trips over the cord it just breaks away and doesn't drag the machine to the ground? Brilliant!

Okay, I wish it came in something other than white, but when you're nitpicking on the color, you know you don't have a lot to complain about.

2. Battery Life

Apple rates the battery usage of the Macbook at 10 hours. I don't know exactly how long it lasts, but I know I used it for about four hours unplugged and still had 65%-70% of my battery remaining. The Hubby and I watched a forty-minute streaming video at almost full brightness of the screen, and the battery was still full of juice. Despite the fact that I paid for the 9-cell battery on the Dell, I never got more than 4-5 hours of computing out of it, and an hour-long streaming video took it down to the wire. Clear advantage to Apple.

3. Ease of Setup

So I arrive at home with my tiny Mac box, unpack, and settle in for what I think is going to be hours of setup and configuration. Wrong. I turn on the Macbook and it steps me right through initial setup. Oh, Mac has detected a wireless network - do you want to connect? No installation of router drivers or fancy software to get connected. It detected other machines in the network without problem. Plugged in an external hard drive - bingo, files transferred. Printer drivers? Who needs them! First time I wanted to print, the Macbook detected printers on the network. Configuring Mac's Mail application to connect to my Comcast.net account was equally flawless (I will admit that Office 2007 was much better at that on Windows than previous versions of Office). The only thing it won't detect when plugged in is my phone (a Samsung Omnia running Windows Mobile Pro 6.1). Oh, and I did wind up retyping my Outlook contacts, but only because I didn't feel like downloading Thunderbird, installing, exporting, and then importing. I don't have that many contacts to make it worth my time.

4. Responsiveness

Whenever you turn on a Windows machine, or "wake" it up, there is a time lag while Windows gets itself settled. Mac, not so much. Push the power button and it's on in less than 30 seconds. I open the lid and boom! its ready to use, no "resuming" lag. Call it responsiveness, or instant on, or whatever. I don't know what to call it, but I like it.

5. Display clarity

The screen on the Macbook is smaller than my Dell (13" as opposed to 15"), but I sure don't miss those two inches. Maybe because everything is so crisp. The colors pop and it's a pleasure to look at the screen. Everything from web surfing to watching videos is easy on the eyes.

6. Stability

No quirks, no finicky behavior. Nothing hesitates or goes into a weird "hourglass" state. I have not had a dropped wireless signal in the two months I've been using it (something that cannot be said for the PCs in the house). No, "Word has encountered an error and needs to close."It's trite, but really, "it just works."

7. Software

The only "external" applications I've installed are Word and Excel for Mac. I've found everything else that comes with the Mac (Mail, iCal, Address Book, etc). to be perfectly adequate. I have friends who say the Mac versions of Word/Excel pale before the Windows versions, but really, for home use they are just fine (I don't need most of the fancier features to type a letter or create a spreadsheet to track Scout dues).

Where the Mac really shines is the multi-media software. It's long been held that Apple does the "artistic" stuff better. I can't speak to animation or CAD, but for what I need it is outstanding. I have thousands of digital photos. For years, all I've wanted to do is put them together in a slide show with some music. And while I won't say I couldn't figure it out under Windows, I couldn't figure out how to do it both easily and cheaply. I didn't want to learn to be a pro with Photoshop, I just wanted a stinking digital photo slide show.

Not only does the Mac come with all the software necessary (iPhoto, iMovie, iTunes, iDVD), it's all ridiculously simple. I am always wary when a company touts how "easy" it is do something. But armed with nothing except the 10 minute demonstration from the Apple rep at BestBuy and my own determination, I created a slide show with music of our beach vacation in about 15 minutes. I created a slide show for my son's Cub Scout pack of their summer camping in about 30 minutes - and most of that time was spent selecting photos and appropriate music. Put the photos in iPhoto, import them to iMovie, dump in music, select a theme, and hey presto! Semi-professional looking slide show. The folks at Cub Scouts couldn't thank me enough for all my "work." Honesty compelled me to admit it hadn't been that hard - the Mac did all the hard work.

And I love the Dock. I'm just saying.

Conclusion

It's hard for me to categorically say, "Never buy a PC," because really, you have to pick the right tool for the job. But for home computing, you don't need a Cray. If you're a hard-core gamer, a Mac may not be for you. If you're on a really limited budget, Mac may not be for you (I don't think Apple sells anything for $300). But if you've got the cash, and you want computing to be fun instead of work, I highly recommend shelving any suspicions you may have and looking at the Apple line. Heck, it might not cost as much as you think. You might just be pleasantly surprised.

And taking a bit of this Apple won't even get you thrown out of the Garden of Eden.

Pax et Bonum

I recently finished a book called The Saint and the Sultan, by Paul Moses. Moses, a journalist and professor of journalism, seeks to strip away the mythos regarding the visit of St. Francis of Assisi to Sultan Malik al-Kamil during the Fifth Crusade (and believe me, as a graduate of St. Bonaventure University I can tell you the story has a lot of mythos). More than just a historical recount, Moses also seeks to learn what the story can tell us today, especially with the current state of Christian-Muslim affairs.

Even if you aren't Catholic, you've probably heard of St. Francis. You know, the medieval hippie. The guy who talked to animals, and preached a message of peace. The guy who, despite his middle-class upbringing and initial knightly aspirations, ditched it all to live a life of abject poverty, embracing the poor and living how he believed the original Apostles lived, in an attempt to be closer to Jesus. The only saint ever painted by the great artist Rembrandt; the guy who is probably the epitome of "humble."

For Francis, peace just wasn't a really nice thing. It was the only way we could draw closer to God. Francis had been a soldier. He'd been a POW in a war between Perugia and Assisi. He'd been in prison, and it had broken him. His rejection of war was absolute. So when the Fifth Crusade started, Francis was determined to go. Not to fight, but to find a different way to resolve the conflict between Christian West and Islamic East.

See, Francis had a really radical idea. Instead of fighting, why not have a conversation?

Like I said, radical - even by today's standards.

As I said earlier, a lot of mythos has grown up around this story, some of it propagated by the Church and even St. Bonaventure, minister general of the Franciscan order and official biographer of on of Catholicism's most beloved saints. These stories paint a confrontational Francis, who stormed into the sultan's palace, challenged his advisers to a "trial by fire," and convinced al-Kamil to convert.

What really happened? Francis and a couple of followers trudged in their rough brown robes through the battlefield to al-Kamil's palace to preach peace. By all believable accounts, the brothers were welcomed warmly, listened to respectfully, and sent safely back. The sultan did not convert - but he did listen.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff. Why would this story be embellished and obscured? It wasn't politically correct, that's why.

But close your eyes and picture this scene. A simple, frail man in a rough brown robe speaking earnestly to a richly robed prince. Talking not of war and violence, but peace and love. Speaking not as an opponent, but as a brother. Holding out a hand that did not clasp a sword, but one that would clasp another hand in friendship. After that visit, Francis went back to Italy to exhort his followers. Not to go to war, but to go among the Muslims to live, to "be subject" to them, to love them. For Francis very firmly believed that the only way to truly unite and go beyond the violence was to recognize the Muslims as our neighbors and "love our neighbors as ourselves." Here was a simple man who did not content himself to talking to others in his daily life. He traveled with popes and princes preaching his message, and crossed a battlefield to talk with a prince of his vision of peace.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff.

Now keep your eyes closed and pretend that this message had blossomed then, instead of "falling on rocky ground" to quote the parable. Pretend that the message had not been whitewashed by a Church intent on a political mission. What would be different today?

It got me thinking. The answer is "a lot." If Christian and Muslim alike had been able to embrace Francis' message of love in the early thirteenth century, what would the world look like today? Would 9-11 or the U.S.S. Cole bombings have happened? Or would we all have learned to get along, to respect each other, to have earnest dialog instead of war?

I did not know this, but turns out that Franciscans sent messengers to both President Bush and leaders in the Middle East before the current Iraqi war to preach peace. What if they had listened?

Francis brought the world a message of hope. He truly and absolutely believe that no conflict could be solved by violence. That the only hope we had was to embrace Christ's message of love and peace. To meet violence with compassion.

It was radical then. It is radical now. But the more I think, the more I hear the stories and diatribe about the proposed Islamic community center near Ground Zero, the more I think it is the only way.

It is our fear that drives the conflict - on both sides. Fear that our way of life and beliefs will be trampled, fear that we will not be free to worship as we believe, fear of the "other." Only learning will free us from that fear. And meaningful learning can only become reality through a spirit of love and peace. Not a fake peace, not "do it my way and we won't have a problem" peace. Peace as Francis envisioned it. He exhorted his brothers to live among the Muslims, to be servants. Not so they would be dominated, not because their beliefs were inferior. So they would have more opportunity to preach peace, to provide a living Gospel example, and convince Muslims that peace was the right way.

Don't get me wrong. Accounts of Islamic terrorism make me sad. Sad on a profound level. Sad that we have not really come as far as we think we have since the Crusades. Sad that we all, Christian and Muslim alike, are still too proud to be "servant" and must mold the world to our vision, even if that means destroying the vision of others.

But I have also come to believe that Francis was right. The only way is to embrace peace - the peace of God, not of men. We must lay aside our pride, and embrace humility in the way Francis did. I don't know that we have to go whole hog, sell our homes and possessions, and start wandering in rough brown robes. But we have to sell our possessions in our heart - sell our pride, our jealousy, our fear, our anger, our possessive desire - to make room for a greater possession - peace and love.

The title of this post, "Pax et Bonum," was a common way to sign things at St Bonaventure University. It is Latin, and means "peace and the good" (roughly). It was a motto for St. Francis and his order - his wish for "peace and the good" for all he met. It should be a motto for us all, right now, in 2010. Imagine the powerful transformation that would occur if we could all look at each other and sincerely wish nothing but peace and good for all, regardless of creed, race, color, or whatnot.

Powerful stuff. Radical stuff.

Pax et bonum.

The Witching Hour

(This is a short story I wrote a couple years ago. In the absence of having anything illuminating to say, I figured I'd post it for your reading pleasure. Feel free to leave comments.)

The sounds reached her first. The soft music of crickets blended with the deep, mellow bass of night frogs in a soothing nocturnal symphony. Occasionally, the hoot of a screech owl accented the song, lending an eerie overtone.

Determined, she pushed through a blackness that muffled like a thick blanket. They had warned her it might be difficult to break through, but she persevered. Finally, the blackness parted and she passed through with a silent sigh of relief.

Pale, cold moonlight bathed the field, glittering off an early frost. Here and there, she saw wisps of steam rising from still-warm soil into the air. Inhaling deeply, she was disappointed she could not smell the sharp bite of the night air, just as she could not feel the night’s coldness. Oh well, they had told her it would be so. Still, it was a disappointment.

Tilting her head, she looked up. Stars glistened like diamonds on a black velvet sky, surrounding a perfect silver full moon. The moon’s position told her it was just midnight, the witching hour, when spirits issued forth in the land of the living. So went the stories the grannies told the young ones, stories that frightened the littlest ones into obedience and amused the older children. If they only knew, she thought wryly.

She suppressed the urge to run through the forest, the trees beckoning her as old friends. Her time was short; only one hour was allotted. They had been quite firm on that point. She had petitioned long and hard for this chance and had no intention of wasting it. The privilege would only be given once. Gathering her resolve, she sped toward the town, leaving a heavier carpet of frost behind her.

More silent than an owl, she glided through the streets, everywhere leaving the trail of frost. Most townspeople slept, but those who still watched felt a chill as she passed and the more superstitious made signs to ward against spirits.

The windows to the great house were dark and the door was barred, but it meant little to her. The only light was that of the moon and her eyes needed no other. All the details of the house matched her memories, except that her portrait was gone from above the fireplace. The portrait of a man, handsome and arrogant, in a gaudy gold frame hung on the wall that had once been graced by an elegant painting of a young, blushing bride in a distinguished black walnut frame. She curled her lip in disdain and carefully mounted the grand staircase. Behind her, the frosty path glittered with an unholy light.

Her children, her beloved boys, slumbered peacefully. The younger cried softly once, and then snuggled deeper into his blanket as if warding off a chill. Tenderly, she stretched out a hand to comfort him, but snatched it back in time. What once would have been a mother’s soothing touch would now only bring death. Her heart ached to weep, but her eyes remained dry. Tears were beyond her now.

The large feather bed was rumpled, but held only one occupant. Shining gold curls fanned across the pillow; a few tendrils lay across the girl’s rosy young cheek. She recognized the sweet features of the upstairs maid. Peaceful breathing came through perfect rosebud lips. A cold fury welled up inside her. How dare she! she thought, slowly extending her killing touch. Yet again she stopped. It would do no good to punish this foolish young thing who was only a momentary amusement. No, her anger and vengeance was reserved for one and one only.

She found him where she expected to, lounging in his study before a dying fire, the heavy velvet drapes drawn tight. His silk robe was open to the waist; a glass of wine was in his hand. He looked like a tiger, satiated after his last meal.

A sudden, violent, icy wind whipped through the room, causing him to start with alarm. The fire gained new life, roaring behind the screen despite the lack of wood. His features froze in terrified surprise as her misty form, clad in a commoner’s white burial shift, slowly materialized before him. She held him in his chair with the sheer force of her will, reveling in his helplessness as a small boy revels in the pain of the insect he is tormenting. He had looked at her that way once in what seemed a far-off dream.

A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “Hello dear,” she said in a voice colder than the grave. “We have so much to talk about.”

The old servant walked unsteadily down the hall. The master had not been in his bed when the old man had gone to wake him at dawn, as was his custom. He must have dozed off before the fire again. The master had spent many a solitary evening in his study since his wife’s tragic death and the faithful servant worried for his master’s health.

The fire was only ash as the servant opened the door. He could see the master’s hand resting on the arm of his chair. Shaking his white head, the servant move to wake the master and recoiled in horror.

The handsome features were frozen in a hideous mask of terror; the wineglass remained firmly clasped in his hand. He had the look of one who has gazed beyond death. A pious, superstitious man, the servant quickly made the sign to ward off the spirits whose work this had surely been. Thankfully, he had only a moment to gaze on the horrifying sight before the first gentle rays of dawn touched the frozen figure, shattering master and glass into fine shards that settled on the floor, glinting like frost.

Building a Leader

"Great leaders are born, not made."

Bullshit.

We've all heard this mantra, usually in response to a perceived failure in leadership. It's a convenient excuse because it absolves the person of any responsibility. It's not his or her fault he/she can't lead the way out of a wet paper bag, because leaders are born.

As a society, we must know this isn't true. Why do I say that? Look around and see for yourself. Books, seminars, courses, heck, even entire college degrees exist to make us experts in "leadership." So either, on some level, we know that there is at least something that can be learned about leadership and are fooling ourselves, or we are gullible sheep who spend thousands of dollars to "learn" something that is an inborn trait. And while it is entirely possible for the latter to be true, my money is on the former.

Now, it is true that leadership comes more naturally to some people. And it is also true that some people have a personality that make it easier for them to get followers. But personality and skill are not mutually inclusive. That is, an attractive personality does not make for great leadership. We all know people who are funny, sensitive, good to spend time with, and great at parties who are also awful leaders.

I can also cite at least one person who history has considered a pretty good leader, but who was a real jerk: George Patton. Chances are you've seen the movie with George C. Scott. Patton was a conceited jerk. He really was that abrasive, obnoxious and demanding. And most of the soldiers under his command respected him and considered him a great leader. I remember an account I heard of a soldier who served under Patton during the war and who was a pall bearer at Patton's funeral. He considered it an honor.

So, what is leadership? I mean, clearly this is important stuff, especially in corporate America. Everyone is exhorted to be a leader. There is big "L" leadership (think CEOs and generals), and small "l" leadership (someone, maybe in your company, who does not have a fancy title, but somehow gets everybody moving in the same direction at the same time). It's on annual performance reviews, for crying out loud - the thing most companies use to determine whether or not your going to get a raise this year. But what is it?

For me, it's a bit like pornography: difficult to define, but I know it when I see it.

But I can tell you what it's not: It's not a title, like CEO or COO. Those are "leaders," but they do not necessarily have good leadership skills. Plenty of companies have been dragged under by "leaders" who couldn't get out of the aforementioned wet paper bag. Being granted a title doesn't grant you wisdom.

So think of someone you consider a good leader. I'll give you a few moments. What qualities, in your opinion, make him or her a good leader? Tell you what, I'll give you my list (in no particular order) and we can compare notes.

1. Honesty/Integrity

While I said this list was in no particular order, I cannot imagine honesty, or integrity, not heading the list of leadership qualities. If you can't tell the truth or if people don't believe you are telling the truth, how do you get them to follow you? I don't know a lot of people who would follow a liar. "I can't believe a word she says, but she's really fun a parties, so let's go along with her idea!" Not.

Leaders tell the truth and the truth is often unpalatable. Yeah, nobody wants to hear that your department is failing to do its job. But if that's the truth, well, you need to hear it. Not so you can be blamed or feel guilty, but so you can recognize a need - to get better at your job.

Similarly, a leader has to have personal integrity. A leader puts up his hand and says "That one's my fault" when he is in fact responsible. A leader does not pass off the responsibility to someone else, either above or below her on the corporate food chain. And to be a leader, other people have to believe you have integrity. They have to believe you will put up your hand when appropriate and not pass the buck. It's wonderful if you say, "I have a lot of personal integrity." It's even more wonderful if the guy two cubes over who has to work with you every day can say it.

Think Harry Truman. "The buck stops here." At the risk of sounding like Bill O'Reilly (shudder) if you want to be considered a leader, make your sphere of influence a "no spin zone."

2. Diplomacy

This is the one that gets me every time. Honest is a wonderful thing, and sometimes the truth hurts. But leaders don't hit people over the head with the truth as if it was a baseball bat. There is, in fact, a way to be honest, but to phrase it in such a way that people are not demoralized or feel that you are making a personal attack. Personally, I can be awfully blunt. There is a time for that. There is also a time for diplomacy. Going into a confrontation with all guns blazing is not always the right thing to do, and will not inspire others to follow you. In all likelihood, you will antagonize and alienate people who would otherwise support you. Trust me, I know this one first hand.

Good leaders, most of them, know this. If Patton had a major failing as a leader, it was his struggle to be diplomatic. If Eisenhower had a major accomplishment as a leader, it was his skill at diplomacy. Eisenhower was a mediocre tactician at best. He was a phenomenal diplomat. Who else could have kept Montgomery and Patton from killing each other? The bottom line is that leaders are not bullies. They do not use brute force to convince others, they invite them - and they issue the invitation in such a way that people want to go along.

Important note: diplomacy is not spin. "Spin" takes the facts and twists them so that one party or another looks better. Diplomacy presents the facts in such a way that all parties want to participate in the problem solving.

3. Inspiration/Vision

Leaders almost always have a vision. Somewhere to go, something to do, something to be. And not only do they have a vision, they make other people want to take the trip with them. It's not a personal odyssey. It's an invitation to journey together. A good leader lets people know that not only does she have a plan, she knows how to execute that plan, it is thought out, and that others are an important part of the plan. A leader doesn't talk about how "I" am going to do something. He talks about how "we" are going to do something - and when you listen to him talk, you think "Gosh, that sounds great! Let's go!" A leader can get everybody to move in the same direction at the same time.

Inspiration, like honesty, also doesn't gloss over messy reality. Inspiration can acknowledge the pain that the journey will entail, but still make people want to take it. Because a good vision, and the ability to inspire, makes people believe the pain will be worth it in the end. The sacrifices will be worth it. The value proposition is understood.

After all, who wants to follow someone who has no idea where he is going in the first place, or can't adequately articulate why we want to go there anyway?

4. Respect

Leaders do not demean people. Nobody wants to follow a boor who is constantly telling them how deficient they are, or making them feel inadequate. A leader makes the people following her feel that they are valued members of the team, no matter how big or small the contribution they make. That office admin who made 50 copies of your position paper? A non-leader treats that as something that of course she did because that's her job. A leader acknowledges her contribution and the value she provided by a) taking some of the burden and b) helping to make sure everybody got a copy of the information needed to do the job. A leader says "thank you" and means it.

Nobody is irreplaceable. Any competent person realizes this. But that doesn't mean that everybody shouldn't feel valued.

5. Encouraging

Another thing that's really hard for me. There is a fine line, in my mind, between being genuinely encouraging and being condescending and phony - a rah-rah cheerleader. A good leader can let the team know they are moving in the right direction, despite stumbling blocks, and make people want to continue. They can look at the giant mound of work, say "Wow, that's a giant mound of work - let's get it done!" and folks want to do it. And a leader can look at someone who is trying really, really hard, but not quite getting it done, and both praise them for the effort while offering corrections and tips for what isn't going right.

I am not advocating praise for praise sake just to make people feel better. Contrary to some belief, people can spot a phony a mile away. They will know that they are doing a crappy job and you are pandering to their self esteem. But their is a way to acknowledge "yes, you are not quite doing the job right" without tearing them down - and propping the person up by letting him know you genuinely believe he will get it right.

Good leaders build people up, either by praise for what is being done right or constructive suggestions on what to correct. Leaders do not tear people down - especially not in public.

6. Competency/Intelligence

Good leaders are not dipsticks who can't tie their own shoes. A leader has a certain level of competency, of ability, to do his job. Maybe not your job. But he knows something about the field. If he's a corporate officer, he knows how to run a company. And while he may not know exactly how to code software, or build a plane, or do anything, he is intelligent enough to a) follow what you are saying, b) know when he's over his head, and c) when he needs to learn enough to keep up. A good leader doesn't bluff his knowledge like he's playing poker. He doesn't pretend to know more than he does. He is comfortable admitting that he doesn't know everything and is willing to try to learn. A good leader also knows that he can't possibly know everything, which is why he wants you to be on his team - because you possess knowledge that he doesn't, and he believes you can do the job. He is intelligent enough to recognize talent when he sees it.

A good leader is also smart enough to know when people are smart enough to see through her. She doesn't try to pull a fast one. People who try to pass off one thing as something else, generally come off badly, because the perception is "What, is she so stupid she doesn't think we know better?" Doesn't do much for your standing as a leader.

And finally,

7. Respected

Respect is not a one-way street. A leader not only respects the people on her team, she is respected by them. Why? See all the other attributes on my list. Leaders who have those attributes, generally have the respect of their teams. That doesn't mean they always are in agreement with each other. But you can respect, and follow, someone you don't agree with if you believe he is honest, has integrity, is respectful of you, is intelligent, can be diplomatic, has an inviting vision, and is encouraging of your efforts. It's really hard to follow a blunt incompetent idiot who is a liar, tears you down all the time, and has no respect for your person.

Do I have all these attributes? No - but I'm trying to work on it. I also don't believe leadership is a destination. A good leader never assumes she never has any more work to do in these areas. A leader is always trying to improve.

So take a look around you and ask yourself: Who is leading me and do I want to go there? Where am I trying to lead people and why would they want to follow me?

The answers just might surprise you.

When Private is Public

A few weeks ago, I learned that the 4th grade teacher at my kids' school was not asked to return for the coming school year (which is a shame, because she was a good teacher). The scuttle-butt as I heard it from another parent (gotta love the small-school rumor mill), is that she made disparaging comments about the school and parents in a Facebook status update.

To quote a colleague, "Turns out people can read what you say on the Internet."

The fact is, the Internet has changed personal privacy. Way back in the day, it was harder, although not impossible, to target disgruntled employees. I mean, if you're complaining to friends over dinner in your own home, you can be reasonably sure that the object of your complaint won't know, as long as the person to whom you are complaining doesn't rat you out. After all, while spy-style listening devices look really cool on TV, that sort of thing that common in the general public. Average citizens don't wiretap their employees (we leave that to the Federal government).

The pesky thing about the Internet is this: nothing is really private. Nothing. Once it's out in the ether, it can be found - especially if one is talented, knowledgeable, and diligent enough. And it never really goes away, either. Even if you delete it, the ghost of that email, that photo, or that blog post is still there. Oh yes it is.

But the Internet is also tricksy, my precious. It fools you into thinking what you've posted is private. Web pages let you mark photo albums as private, only to be accessed by invited individuals. You need passwords and ciphers to see account information. Everything sealed behind a steel door, right?

Well, maybe for the average Joe Computer User. We aren't all cipher experts employed by the CIA. For most of us, passwords are just fine. But the reality is that the "steel door" is more like a black curtain. And curtains rip, intentionally or accidentally.

But let's leave the world of cyber-crime aside for the moment, because I'm not really talking about hackers or those nasty people who write malware, or viruses. Because sometimes the more damaging activity comes from a more insidious source: ourselves.

Yeah, you got that right. Us. We do it to ourselves all the time. Our total lack of situational awareness is sometimes more damaging than all the computer nasties out there. Let's take the teacher example. She didn't say it in the privacy of her own home, she said it on Facebook. In front of how many hundreds of her closest "friends." Plus, if her Facebook security wasn't set up properly, her status could be seen by anybody, even non-friends.

But let's assume she did have it set up that status updates were restricted to friends. The school principal is on Facebook. And if they were "friends," well...

You see where this goes. No place good.

Lack of situational awareness. This is why my boss is not a friend on Facebook. And while I do have a couple of work friends there, I try very hard not to post specific rants about work frustrations. Because Facebook isn't private.

Oh yes, I know. Statements made to our Facebook friends shouldn't be used against us. To a certain extent I agree. I've heard stories of teachers being censured or fired because they posted a picture of themselves holding a glass of wine (no joke, my sister knows someone who got in trouble over this). And if the picture is of the teacher at her college reunion with other adults, responsibly enjoying an adult beverage, no, that shouldn't matter. If, on the other hand, the picture is of the teacher at a beach party doing belly shots and there is evidence of underage drinkers, well, "lack of situational awareness" is a bitch.

There is no doubt that Facebook, or the Internet, is a powerful networking tool. You can find jobs, lost college classmates, or information for your kid's school project. But it's all smushed together. And as a co-worker of mine wisely said, humans as a species have not evolved to a point where we are capable of separating these things for ourselves. We need someone to help us help ourselves.

Staying with Facebook, another co-worker said what Facebook really needs are levels or "boxes," so he can have a "personal" box of friends and a "professional" box of friends. And you can kind of do it now, but it's clunky. Because sometimes he says something that he only wants to share with the personal box. And he wants to be reasonably sure (again, this is the Internet), that the people in one box can't open the other box and see what's going on in there. He says it's possible, and since he's a fairly smart computer guy, I believe him. But Facebook isn't there yet. And we humans seem to be incapable of separating our stuff into boxes in our own minds.

Right now, saying something on Facebook, or the Internet in general, is like walking into a noisy, crowded room and shouting. Maybe no one will hear you. Maybe someone will - and it might not be the someone you intended to hear you.

And maybe Mom was right after all. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

Especially on the Internet.

To Catch a (Lightening) Thief

So last week, our neighborhood pool's movie night feature was "Percy Jackson: The Lightening Thief." My son, age 8, is a huge fan. He might like Percy Jackson more than Harry Potter (I suspect this is because Percy has a cool sword). He had asked to go when it was in theaters, and asked again when he saw the poster at the pool. Since pool movie night is only $2 per person, I said yes.

After the flick, I ask him, "Well, what did you think?"

"Well, it was good - but what happened to the story? They left out Ares, and Clarisse, and the part at the stream," he replied.

"Well, that happens, honey," I said. "Movies based on books are usually different because they have to leave things out. But you liked the movie?"

Long pause. "Yeah I suppose," he said seriously. "But the book was better." And thus, another generation of book snobs is born.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely recognize that it is impossible to turn a book into a movie, and preserve every little detail. You can spend time in books doing things that would bring a movie to a screeching dramatic halt. That said, some directors and screenwriters do a better job than others. Take Peter Jackson's epic "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Did he adhere to every word Tolkien wrote? No, but Tolkien's book word for word would have made a lousy screenplay. Jackson kept all of the most important aspects of the story and, while I may disagree with some of the changes he made, I think his three-movie set may be the best book-movie adaptation I've ever seen.

Take, as another example, Harry Potter. These are movies that I think are okay adaptations. They've left quite a bit out, in my humble opinion. But they are serviceable. I've seen a number of them multiple times, and I don't feel as though I'm being tortured when I do. So while I prefer the books, I find the movies entertaining in their own right.

My initial reaction to "The Lightening Thief" was the same - entertaining in its own right, but I prefer the book. But the more I thought on it, and the more I talked about it with others (who have also read the books, and one who had seen the movie), the less I feel that way.

Some of the changes were cosmetic. For example, they aged Percy and Annabeth to be about 14-15 years old, not kids just out of sixth grade. This is the type of change of which I am usually most forgiving, unless there is a critical reason to preserve age (as in the case of Harry Potter). They omitted the scene at the St. Louis arch (which really only serves to highlight Percy's abilities as a son of Poseidon, so okay). They added a character to the scene at Auntie Em's Garden Emporium; okay, no big deal. They changed the role of the pearls. Instead of being given to Percy at Santa Monica by a nereid, they have to find them as they cross the country. As they find a pearl, the next location on the map (given to them by Luke) appears. This is kind of hokey, but I guess the cross country trek needed more drama.

There were even things done well. I think Chris Columbus (who directed the first two Potter movies) did a good job with the special effects. I didn't find them incredibly intrusive and the magical creatures (the centaur and satyr) didn't look plasticky and fake. I thought the scene at the Lotus Hotel & Casino was well done. I think the characters related to each other in a way that was true to the book (although there was some romantic sizzle between Percy and Annabeth that simply doesn't exist until later books in the series). And the acting was fine. Logan Lerman and Alexandra Daddario are a fine Percy and Annabeth. Grover, played by Brandon T. Jackson, was an entertaining (if a little bit "jive") Grover. Pierce Brosnan put in a fine turn as the centaur Chiron, trainer of heros. I found Steve Coogan's aging rock star portrayal of Hades to be good, and even Sean Bean turned in a satisfactory performance as Zeus (he was a bit brooding, but not in the movie enough to turn that into a negative).

But with those positives, I found some serious flaws.

1. Total omission of the Kronos storyline

This, by far, is the worst sin. Yes, the active story of the book is Percy's quest to retrieve Zeus's master bolt. But in Riordan's book, the background story is the impending return of the Titan lord, what it means for Olympus, and the prophecy surrounding Percy (Yes, if this sounds a bit like a Harry Potter rip-off it probably is, and I don't really care.). All of this is missing from the movie. No mention of Kronos, no mention of a prophecy. Yes, Luke is correctly identified as the thief, but he becomes a petulant teenager who feels scorned by his Olympian father (Hermes) and wishes the downfall of Olympus in spite, instead of someone manipulated by the Titan. Without the influence of Kronos, it is then easy to cast Hades into the "bad guy" role by making him desire possession of the master bolt so he can overthrow his brothers on Olympus (Zeus and Poseidon) because he feels he got a bum rap when they divided up the world. Not only is this not in the book (in fact, one of the most entertaining scenes in Riordan's book is Hades carrying on about how he doesn't need more spirits in the Land of the Dead because the current influx is causing traffic problems at the gates), it's not even mythologically accurate - I never remember Hades as wanted to overthrow Zeus or being unhappy about being Lord of the Underworld (in fact, I have a hazy memory that he chose that, but I digress).

Without the Kronos storyline, you lose the main purpose of the tale - it's weight, if you will. A co-worker, who initially recommended Riordan's books, called it an "emasculation" of the story. And I have to agree with him. Columbus and screen writer Craig Titley have written an empty-headed teen adventure flick that happens to incorporate some Greek mythology and the plot shell of Riordan's creation. And, without the Kronos story, there is absolutely nothing to hang a sequel on; the movie becomes a stand-alone episode, much like a lot of television shows (although I did look up the box office for "The Lightening Thief" and they failed to recoup their production costs, so I doubt a sequel would be in the making anyway). Nice summer popcorn fare, but not much more.

2. No mention of Thalia or her tree.

The loss here is more explanation of Luke's motives, and why he is susceptible to Kronos (of course they ditched Kronos and made Luke a sullen teenager so it doesn't matter much; that's why it's not my #1 quibble). You also lose a part of Annabeth's story, and her relationship to Luke - but they didn't really explore that either.

3. They save Percy's mom - and take her to Olympus.

Okay, it was all noble of Grover to stay behind, but Percy learns something by not retrieving his mother from the Underworld - he learns commitment to something bigger. Then to top it off, his mother leads them to the Empire State Building to return the bolt to Zeus. Why does a mortal woman know the way to Olympus anyway - even if she can't get there?

4. The final fight with Luke.

This didn't initially bother me, but in retrospect it's just a gratuitous way to put more pressure on the summer solstice deadline. Luke's whole plot was to steal the bolt and give it to Hades to start a war to destroy Olympus. Now he's been found out, he's going to kill Percy and take the bolt for himself? Huh?

5. Zeus's "law" prohibiting contact between Olympians and their demigod children.

This is just a pathetic attempt to excuse Poseidon's absence from Percy's life (and Athena's from Annabeth's life, and Hermes' from Luke's, etc.). These are Greek gods. They don't need excuses. There's plenty of mythological history to explain this.

Bottom line: Rick Riordan's books are entertaining fare (even for me, a 37-year old woman). The movie strips them of what made them entertaining. The movie may be worth a DVD rental, or Netflix, or a $2 viewing at your community pool. It's fine entertainment for a lazy summer night. My daughter took a friend of hers to the movie and she enjoyed it thoroughly.

Then again, she never read the book.

The "me" in "team"

There is a popular saying that goes "There is no 'I' in team." Maybe not, but there is an "m" and an "e," and together they spell "me," which is just as bad.

For the past two years at her dance studio, my daughter has been part of two "teams"; an advanced gymnastics team and a non-competitive performance team that does community events (shows at senior centers, nursing homes, parades, etc.). This year, she upped her game and made the competitive "team," actually learning a solo and a group routine and taking it on the road to compete against other studios.

It has been a mostly good experience. She's done very well for it being her first year and only being 10 years old. She's grown in skill and confidence, and it showed at her last recital. At 10, she knows who she is, and has a good sense of herself. And that is good.

But you'll notice something. I put the word "team" in quotations marks in the above paragraph. That's because she belongs to a "team" only in the loosest sense of the word. In fact, another mother recently call this "the most dysfunctional team" she's ever known.

And she's right.

Stop for a moment and think. Have you ever been part of a team? If you have, you know teams have rules. You will wear this uniform. You will be at practice. You will be at the game at a certain time. You will stay for the entire game, which includes congratulations at the end (either receiving or giving). You will ride the team bus to remote events (sports games, academic competitions, whatever). If you go someplace and stay overnight, you will stay in the hotel designated by the school or sponsoring organization.

Period. End of story. Don't like it? There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the way out. Because if you can't live with those rules, the team will find someone who can.

None of that exists with my daughter's dance team. Girls showed up at competitions the bare minimum of time before they were scheduled to compete, and left as soon as humanly possible afterwards, in some cases not even staying for awards. One girl's mother yanked her out of the group less than 3 weeks before the recital, and a month and a half before our National competition, necessitating choreography changes in a routine that these girls have been doing since January (fortunately, another girl agreed to step in, so the changes have been minimal).

Girls (and parents) are complaining that they have to rehearse through July to get ready for Nationals. Parents don't want to buy uniform warm-up gear (they have a black and white warm up suit, but it is NOT suitable for July - way too warm).

Our Nationals are being held in Lancaster. One of the moms proposed renting a bus so we all don't have to drive. People didn't want to travel together. They wanted to arrive on their schedule and leave on their schedule. Some asked if they really needed to be present for the entire 4 days.

We were told that the group would be taking a day trip to Hershey Park. Over half the team has not turned in their forms or money. It was due June 1.

We were told that we would all be staying at the same hotel. Half the team has not turned in their hotel reservation sheets. They were due June 1. The resort is now booked, and many of the surrounding hotels are similarly booked. If I have to sleep in my car, I'll be ticked.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

The irony is that many of these same parents have looked at other studios and said, "Gee, they're so together. We should be like that."

Um, that requires a bit more effort on your part than what I'm seeing.

It's sad, in a way. What my daughter should be learning is the benefit of being part of a group of people with a shared goal - working, learning, and growing together. What she's seeing is a group of people who are primarily concerned with "me," and the group comes second. It's about what they want, not about what's best for the group.

The bottom line is that if you want to belong to a team, you have to make sacrifices. Time, treasure or talent - all usually must be contributed. And that means that maybe you have to defer your movie night to go to practice. Maybe your family can't go on vacation this weekend, you have to go next weekend. Maybe you can't sleep in on Saturday, because you have to be at the pool, or the gym, or the dance studio. Whatever.

The bottom line is that you make these sacrifices because you want to be part of the team. And it's not about you, it's about something bigger.

And that's good training for life. I'd really like to not get up at 6:30 in the morning and go to work. But I do it because I want certain things for my family and that requires money. At work, there are things I don't particularly enjoy or like doing. But I do them because it's not about me, it's about what's good for the company or the client.

Life is all about checking your ego at the door. It's about recognizing that the universe does not revolved around you. And all too often, I see parents leading by the wrong example. Why should we be surprised if we are raising self-indulgent children? Children only sometimes learn from our words, but they frequently learn from our actions. If we act only in our own interest, how can we expect them to learn anything different?

Our studio owner, unfortunately, can't say anything any more because she's damned if she does and damned if she doesn't. But I can, and I say this.

If you want to be part of the team, leave your ego behind. Make it about the team, not about you. Be a part of something bigger than yourself. And if you can't handle it, don't join the team.

In other words, "Shut up and dance - or go home."

Reunion Reflection

Last weekend, I attended my 15-year reunion at St. Bonaventure University in Olean, NY. I was excited. It had been five years since I had been on campus. There were people coming I had not seen in five years, like my first friend at Bona's, Mike. I was going to see Jay, who I have not seen since my wedding day, almost 14 years ago. I was going to see Moritz, who I have not seen since graduation 15 years ago. I was pumped.

The weekend was everything I could have hoped for and more. St. Francis himself must have smiled down, as warm, bright sunshine bathed a verdant campus, instead of the thunderstorms that were in the forecast. Jay, his wife Diane (not a Bona grad) and I took the walking tour led by a personable young man from the student body. Ooohs and aaahs were made.

Campus has both changed and not changed, which I find reassuring. All the buildings are there, comforting in their red-brick solidness, inspiring in the fresh paint and renovations. The massive study tables in the library are still there (oh, the hours I spent there), but the long couches in the back are gone, replaced by a bank of new computers. Plassmann Hall, where I spent countless hours, still houses the arts and humanities departments, but a new Starbucks kiosk lives on the first floor, and the 1950s desk-n-chair combos have been replaced by more group-oriented furniture. De La Roche sports a shiny new annex - and the lion's head fountain in front, which was completely non-functional when I was a student, pours water into a clean basin housing several fish. Butler Gym has been cleaned up, a state-of-the-art fitness center lives next to the Riley Center (complete with climbing-wall), the hallway between Robinson and Falconio halls has been replaced by a brick courtyard, Hickey Dining Hall has been totally renovated, and a lovely little cafe, Cafe La Verna has been added on to the back. Good thing it didn't exist back in the early 90s; I might never have made it to class.

As we walked, we reminisced. The old post office, the first year the Quick Arts Center opened (I was part of the inaugural performance in the Rigas Theater, a student-led production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"). Jay and I marveled at the size of rooms in Dev; we swore they had gotten bigger - or at least cleaner. We wandered down Third Doyle, remembering who had lived where, and what we had done in each room.

Saturday night at dinner, Moritz led me down more lanes of memory. I had forgotten the night she and I had scared the pants off most of the BonaVenture newspaper staff by going into the RC gym and screaming at the top of our lungs (hey, we'd had six consecutive page layout proposals rejected, and it was 2:00 in the morning - we were a little punchy). We remembered the basketball games. Jay swears they all blur together, but I clearly remember the two of us clutching each other in the stands when SBU beat Temple University in double-overtime, the first win over the Owls in over a decade, praying that the Temple players would miss their free throws and preserve our lead.

Friday and Saturday nights Jay, Mike and I did what we'd done for so many nights; we grabbed something to drink and retired to Jay's room to talk. Past, present, and future, it was no-holds-barred. It was wonderful. The years melted away nearly as fast as the night. I stayed up later and consumed more alcohol that weekend than I have in a long time.

And I saw the friars - Fr. Dan Riley, and Fr. Peter Schneible, still wonderful men, who exemplify what it means to be truly caring. Older, perhaps, but reassuring in their brown and white habits, still interested in us and our lives. Fr. Bernie, still toting the 35mm camera on a strap over his shoulder. I have no idea what he took pictures of, but I never saw him without his camera when I was a student. I smiled at the vision.

The weekend was not without its sorrow. We remembered, with a pang of regret, Fr. Dan Hurley, OFM, who passed away in May of this year. Hurls was a part of Bonaventure for so many years. Old when I was a student, it seemed as though he would always be there, even if intellectually I knew he wouldn't be. His gentle presence pervaded the weekend. I learned with great sorrow about the death of Joy Kwasniak, a member of the women's basketball team and a 1995 grad. She had died several years ago of a rare eye cancer. Moritz put it best; Joy's name fit her perfectly. Not one of the best basketball players, and not a top scorer, she was nevertheless a fantastic player who could be counted on to give her all, both on and off the court. As a student reporter on the women's basketball beat, I could count on Joy for a solid interview, regardless of the results on the court.

And as I stood in the University Chapel on Sunday, the place where I had first come to feel God's love in my life, singing a hymn based on Francis's "Canticle," I felt a sharp pang of longing, a twinge of envy for the current student body, and a tear in my eye. Although impossible, for a moment I longed to go back to a simpler time, when my most stressful problem was getting up in time for my 8:00 class.

Standing on the lawn behind Friedsam Memorial Library on Saturday afternoon, the RC on my left, Plassmann on my right, it all flooded back. It seemed like no time at all had passed between the day I was pronounced a daughter of Bonaventure forever, and that moment in the sun. Looking up into the green lushness of Merton's Heart, far up in the mountains, I realized that the "Magic Mountains" really were magic.

Everybody has a place that is a touchstone, a place that left an indelible mark on your soul. The place that cast the mold of your life, and where you go back to touch the foundation, not only to remember what has been, but to dream of what is to come. That is St. Bonaventure.

"Bonaventure," means "good journey," and that is what the University calls our path when we set foot on campus as freshmen. It is a journey that does not end at graduation, but the Bona staff hopes that your "good journey" in college, prepares you for the "good journey" of life.

My "good journey" continues. I do not know where it will take me tomorrow. But it is comforting to know that if I ever feel lost, Bonaventure will be that touchstone, that guide post on the journey, to help set my feet to the path again.

To all current and future Bonaventure grads, I wish you the same. May your "good journey," fill you with joy, peace, and strength.

Pax et Bonum.

Please, Mr. Jobs, may I have an iPhone?

About 3 months ago, I bought an iPod Touch with this year's bonus money. I didn't need one; I had a very nice Nano that worked just fine. But my daughter wanted to upgrade her Shuffle (which was having trouble holding a charge anyway) to something that did video, and quite frankly, I'm a tech geek. I wanted a cool new toy. The only reason I hadn't bought the Touch years ago (when I bought my Nano - the square one, the first that did video) was price. I didn't have the money at the time. Now I did, especially when Apple gave me the trade-in discount for the semi-functioning Shuffle. So since I can't afford an iPad (and it's a little big to carry in my purse anyway), I got my Touch.

You may ask, why a Touch anyway? Well, a couple reasons. One, they have a bigger storage capacity than the Nano (I've got 32GB), and two, most of the applications in the App store run on the Touch. Really, the Touch is the iPhone, but without the phone part. It has WiFi. It plays games; I've purchased several, and haven't touched my Nintendo DS since I bought the Touch. I set it up to access my Gmail account. I got the Facebook app, a bunch of reader apps (which I wrote about here), a grocery list app, and a couple others. All of which will work on the iPhone, and some on the iPad, if and when I ever get those devices. It has already mostly replaced my laptop at home. Just want to check my Gmail and Facebook? Use the Touch. Want to look up directions? Use the Touch (it even supports printing to my wireless printer from some apps). Want to check on that actor from Babylon 5? IMDb app on the Touch. The only things the laptop gets broken out for is Quicken, my novel writing, and my Comcast email address, which I access through Outlook (and if I could figure out how to set up multiple email accounts on the Touch, I wouldn't do that either).

All of this is why I would really like an iPad. But I digress.

A friend of mine at work, who has an iPhone, said the Touch would quickly make me realize that the touch interface on my phone (a Samsung Omnia running Windows Mobile Pro 6.0) was not as slick. And he was right. It's not that I hate the phone now, but it is definitely more finicky than Apple's touch interface. I have to touch it in exactly the right place, and it's a pressure-based touch, whereas Apple's is electrostatic. And then there's just the quirks of Windows to deal with (For example, every so often my text messages refuse to type. I'm typing, but no letters are showing. The fix is easy; kill the text message "application," restart, and there you go, but still - really?).

I have long thought the iPhone was pretty cool. The one thorn in my side, however, continues to be one simple fact: it only works with AT&T. I do not have AT&T. I have cell service through Verizon, and I'm very happy with it, thankyouverymuch. It doesn't cost an arm and a leg, most of my family has Verizon (meaning it's free to talk to them), and I've always had excellent service, both in terms of signal and customer.

In contrast, I know several folks, including those with iPhones (and who are very happy with their iPhones) who are less than enamored of AT&T. In fact, one guy I know recently ditched his iPhone for a Droid. Did he hate the iPhone? No - he just didn't like the service from AT&T. So my motivation to leave Verizon for AT&T is, well, very low (to put it mildly).

In the grand tradition of tech and Apple, rumors abound about the iPhone coming to Verizon specifically, and a CDMA version coming in general. But according to this report from CNM News Network (which references a story from TheStreet.com), a Verizon executive recently said that a Verizon version of the iPhone was not coming "in the near future." And although there are multiple rumors of Apple contacting manufacturers and a CDMA version available by Christmas, everything I have found also says that Apple's exclusivity deal with AT&T does not expire until 2012, not this summer as I had believed. That kind of squashes my hopes that my next phone will be an iPhone.

Of course, I've also read that Apple is moving away from exclusivity agreements in other countries, so it only makes sense it would do the same in the US. Frankly, I know a lot of people say the type of cell service used by AT&T (as opposed to CDMA) is superior. Okay, well, I don't know about that. I do know that I've never had a reason to complain about coverage, service, or call quality in the 8 years I've been with Verizon.

It will be unfortunate if Verizon still doesn't have the iPhone by next fall (October 2011), which is when I'll be eligible for a new phone. I generally only upgrade every other year because I can't afford the full cost of a new phone. Now, I don't think AT&T or Apple ever offered a discount on the iPhone, so it may not matter; the phone may cost what it costs with no discounts. However, if Verizon decides to apply the "New Every Two" credit to the iPhone, and they don't have one available next October, it will be October 2013 before I can get my hands on one. And that sucks, because I really, REALLY want one. Heck, even my husband wants one and he's not a tech geek.

So if all this is true, and it will indeed be 2013 before there is a CDMA iPhone, if ever, (and I can't believe that Apple would not want access to the millions of Verizon cell customers in the US. Steve Jobs wants to make money, and he would sell an awful lot of iPhones if Verizon suddenly offered that option) I will most likely be looking for a Droid as my next phone. Don't get me wrong; the Droid looks very nice, and I know folks who have them, and who are very happy. But it's not the iPhone.

And for all the rampant speculation, CNM News is correct in saying "Nothing from the Cupertino, California based company exists until Steve Jobs himself says so."

So please, Mr. Jobs, may I have an iPhone?

Crossroads, finale

For those who have been tracking this saga...

I am staying put. For now. They are looking for an Information Design person, which I am not. Maybe someday they will also be looking for a writer and I can re-evaluate.

In the meantime, the boss and I will touch base at least monthly to address any issues I have.

And I will continue to write my novel.

And I will be content.

At least for now.

Crossroads, part 3

So I talked to my boss. She gave me more to think about.

Shit. Why can't things be easy?

The fact is that the writing job has changed, and I have some reading to do before I can determine whether I really want to go back, or whether this is a knee-jerk reaction to a stressful situation. Sort of like a child reaching for a favorite stuffed animal after a bad dream, or grabbing a pint of Ben & Jerry's after a bad day.

The good news, perhaps the best news, is that my boss was pretty clear that she would support whatever makes me happy, and not dreading coming to work. The decent news is that she has no doubts about my ability to do the job, and is willing to work with me to help me gain the confidence/skills/knowledge, whatever I think I need should I decide to stay where I am. That support alone is a serious factor to consider. It's not often you get a boss that is that understanding and supportive.

And finally, perhaps the best personal news, is that I have defined who I am. It's similar to a concept my friend Moritz wrote about; defining yourself in terms of what you are, not what you are not. I am a writer. Maybe I'm a little like Superman, playing one role to the world, but my real person is something else. Project manager by day, novelist by night.

I often tell folks that you must choose to be happy. Circumstances may suck, but happiness is always within your grasp.

Why is that always so much easier to believe when you're telling someone else?

Why does life always have to be so damn hard?

Crossroads, Part 2

Crossroads, Part 2

A few weeks ago, I wrote about being at a crossroads in my career. Do I continue forward, turn left, or turn right. But yesterday, it occurred to me that a crossroads does not contain only three possible directions. There is a fourth - going back the way you came.

For a few months now, I have had the feeling that perhaps I made a mistake when I left my career as a technical writer. Yes, the job had become slightly routine and mundane, but at least I understood it. I knew what I had to do to be successful - and I felt successful. For at least the past two years, I've not felt particular successful at work. As I told a friend of mine, I don't even know what the definition of "success" is anymore, much less if I can meet it.

But the option to go back was not there. We had a technical writer; I hired him. We had a second one at one point, but we had to lay him off, and we weren't hiring that position right now.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, a fellow project manager informed me that person had resigned. A wonderful possibility opened up. Perhaps I could go back. I pondered a bit. I talked to my husband. I talked to the other project manager, and another friend at work. They all agreed that it seemed like a good opportunity, just what I'd been hoping and praying for these past months. They agreed that they could see me being successful at that job, and acknowledged that I'd been so in the past.

So I rolled the dice. I emailed my manager. I want out.

It is amazing how the peace, and calm, and "lightness" of spirit feels when you've made a decision that you've been putting off for a long time, a decision that is "right." Today was the first time in a long time that I drove to work enjoying the bring spring sunshine, instead of dreading my arrival at the office. The first day in a long time where I woke up thinking, "Today is a day of opportunity," instead of "yay, another day of getting my ass chewed."

It feels good.

I do not know what will come of my email. I meet with my boss this afternoon. I am hopeful that she will support me, but ultimately I don't need that support - I can apply directly to HR for the writing position. But she's not just my boss, she's a friend, so I'd rather go with her blessing, so to speak.

Meanwhile, I will enjoy the spiritual "lightness" that comes of knowing what I am professionally. I am a writer, and I am taking steps to get back to that place.

As Bon Jovi said, "Who says you can't go home?"

Finding your inner Gypsy - and feeding her

If you live in Pittsburgh, and are looking for new places to eat, read on. If you are a foodie, and are interested in reading about good places to eat, read on. If you are neither of those things, well, stop right here because this post will probably bore you to tears.

If you go down to Pittsburgh's South Side, turn off Carson onto 13th St., and turn again onto Bingham St., you will see City Theatre (also a good spot, but a topic for another post). Next door to City Theatre, you will see a quiet, unassuming restaurant called The Gypsy Cafe. Gypsy is owned by a former co-worker of mine, Melanie, and her husband. And if you are looking for a local place with good food and a great atmosphere, well, Gypsy is your place.

Gypsy advertises itself as "offering an eclectic selection of homestyle dishes" and "real food, real people, real entertainment, and real atmosphere." The menu is a selection of pan-European dishes, heavily influenced by the ethnic background of the owners and also a Mediterranean flavor. Sound off-putting to meat-and-potatoes American? Not hardly.

We first went to Gypsy several years ago because a) we had theater tickets and Gypsy was right next door, and b) to support my friend in her culinary career path. We have continued to go back multiple times over the years because yes, it's that good.

First, the atmosphere. I'm not sure what the space was used for before. I know Gypsy's website says it is a reclaimed church. There must have been something requiring glass cases at one point because next to the bar is a case that reminds me of a deli case, tastefully draped in a Mediterranean-style throw. The restaurant is not big; it holds maybe 30 tables that generally seat 2-4, although I have seen them pushed together to accommodate parties of 8-12 people. The decor is the colors of the Med, rich reds, golds, greens, very warm and inviting. There are a number of prints on the walls, including some that look like Greek-inspired icons. It's a very warm, cosy place to eat. Now that it is summer, I noticed one cafe-style table on the sidewalk, although nobody was seated there. They did have the door open, so we got a nice spring breeze, without the crushing cold of over-worked A/C like some places I've been, where you turn into a popsicle before your dinner even arrives.

The wait staff are, without fail, friendly and inviting, willing to share their opinions of the food and to help you select something you will truly enjoy. And if you happen to be there on a night when Melanie is out mingling with the dinner crowd, you get to enjoy her gregarious, friendly banter.

Entertainment varies, but if you like jazz, I highly recommend checking out nights when Don Aliquo and his jazz group are performing. Fantastic. They also have performances by The Gypsy Strings, another local group. I've never done Readings by Rebecca, but if you're into that sort of thing, give it a shot. Gypsy has also participated in the South Side Soup Walk, a tour of soup offerings by South Side restaurants - proceeds benefit charity. They've done special "ghost story" events involving local buildings, and host Dr. Sketchy art events. And if you just want to enjoy a good meal, hey, you can do that too. Something for everyone.

Speaking of the food, well, that's what you go to a restaurant for, right? I've had some great meals - in fact, I've never had a bad one. We went last Sunday with friends of ours, and they agreed the meal was all we promised it would be. My hubby had the Szekaly Gulyas, a Transylvanian stew with Hungarian spices, slow-cooked pork, in a cream sauce over buttered egg noodles. It's one of his favorites. One of our friends had the Spice-dusted Rack of lamb served with roasted red potatoes in a spring pesto sauce. I was torn between the Apricot-Glazed Pork Loin and the Scallion Gnocchi, and eventually settled on the pork. The glaze was perfect, sweet, but not too sweet. After I finished, I found the serrated knife they had given me, but I hadn't needed it; the pork was so tender I cut it with my butter knife.

Gypsy also offers a selection of appetizers. Someday, I swear I am going to try the Saganaki, which is Greek-cheese bread doused with Ouzo, flamed, and then extinguished with fresh-squeezed lemon juice. On Sunday, I went for the Roasted Garlic Hummus with triangles of fresh pita bread. One time, they had a trio of hummus, including one with smoked salmon, which I wasn't sure I'd really like. I would not have called myself a hummus fan, but I like the hummus at Gypsy - it must be prepared right. It actually has flavor, instead of being a bland mush of chickpeas. The smoked salmon hummus that night was my favorite; pity I haven't seen it on the menu since.

While you can order a la cart at Gypsy, my favorite way to order is from the "prix fixe" menu. For $20 you get one appetizer, a house or special salad selection (and the dressings are all lovely, I had the pomegranate vinaigrette on a house salad), and an entrée from the list. But whatever you choose, the menu is fresh and seasonal - and delicious.

So if you and your spouse/significant other/best friend are looking for a truly special, local dining experience, pop on over to the Gypsy Cafe:

1330 Bingham St.

412-381-GYPSY (4977)

http://www.gypsycafe.net/

And tell Melanie "hi."

Writing Experiment - Week 1

So last week I said I was starting a writing experiment. I'm a week into it and I have to say, it feels good. I usually manage to get about 1,000 words per day down. I'm almost through most of the rough sketch I put down for this story over 10 years ago. Pretty soon I'm going to have to start making up new material. =)

I have no idea where this is going to end. In my pipe dreams, I write this fantastically successful novel, so successful that I can tell my day job to go jump in the river, and stay home to write full time. Realistically, I know that is not likely to occur. I'm sure that for every author who actually manages to get a book published, there are three or four who couldn't sell ice in the desert. And of the handful who manage to get one book published, the number of folks who go on to successful multiple published works is even smaller.

But I've come to the conclusion that publication, while nice, doesn't matter. At least, it's not my primary goal. I have a creative outlet again. I have found over the last week that the thought of"Hey, I've got a great idea for the story - I'm going to go home and write it out," makes the day a little more tolerable. I can go through my mundane corporate day looking forward to something. My work from 8:30 to 5:00 pays the bills. My work from 7:00 to 9:00 (or so) feeds my soul.

So things are good. I hope the momentum continues. I think it will. And if you're a friend looking for a copy to read, let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Let the Writing Commence

Tonight starts the grand writing group experiment. I need to complete 1,000 words per day on at least 4 days per week (well, there are lower goals, but why not shoot for the top?). I have to post these words for others to read.

I am excited.

I am terrified.

What if I can't get the words written? Worse, what if I do write them, and others day, "This is the worst dreck I've ever read - you call yourself a writer?" Oy vey.

It feels like high school speech time all over again.

I hated high school.

Wish me luck.

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

Pose this question to a group of kindergartners, or any elementary-age group, and you'll get a bevy of excited answers. Policeman! Fireman! Astronaut! Movie Star! Rock star! Baseball player! On and on. The enthusiasm - and the optimism - is boundless.

Pose this question to a group of high schoolers, and the response is a bit more subdued, and usually prefaced with, "Well, I'd like to be..." and ends with "..., but I'm not very good at it."

Pose this question to a group of college students and, well, the answer isn't about wants. It's about "going to be's" based on whatever a person's declared major is. Sometimes, you get a shrug of the shoulders. And quite often, the initial answer does not match what actually happens. Take me: I started out thinking I'd be an attorney, gradually decided to be a teacher, and now I'm a project manager at a software company. Say what?

Pose this question to a group of adults, and you'll get anything from a misty-eyed, "If I could do it all over..." to a disgusted "I don't have time for this childish nonsense."

I've asked myself the question frequently lately. And I am not ashamed to say, "I have no clue." But I know it's not what I'm doing now. I mean really, what child says, "Ooo, I want to be a project manager at a software company!" Give me a break. It makes me envious of my children. My soon-to-be-10-year-old daughter has the answer pat: she wants to be a choreographer and costume designer. My soon-to-be-8-year-old son doesn't know, but he still figures he can do anything - including playing professional baseball. :)

The operative part of the question, for me, is when do we "grow up"? Is it chronological, psychological, what?

I think I've found the answer: We've grown up when we cease to dream. It's a terrifying thought, to be stuck in a rut of just getting up, working, eating, and sleeping with no hopes/dreams/aspirations. In fact, I think Dante may have defined that as a special level of hell.

What's even more terrifying is that I think I might be there. I'm frankly unhappy with what I'm doing. As I said yesterday, I see very little chance for real success and, as an achievement-oriented person, I find that more than a little depressing. But at the same time, I've been in one place so long, I find the prospect of change frightening. Where I am might not be enjoyable, but it's safe: I get paid, I get good benefits, and I've been here a long time. So long, in fact, that it's tough for me to imagine what else I can do.

I read somewhere that more and more college students are entering college undeclared and may change majors multiple times. Some have scoffed at this, saying it's just one more sign of the immaturity of the next generation.

But maybe they're actually the smart ones. Maybe they realize the question isn't as easy as it seems. Maybe they realize, subconsciously, that growing up isn't all it's cracked up to be.

So what do I want to be when I grow up? No clue. I don't know if you've answered that question, or if you're happy with your current answer. But if you've got any suggestions, feel free to pass them my way.

And to all the kids out there: Growing up sucks. Don't do it. That's my advice. Stay young - and don't be afraid to dream.

The So-Called "Death of Books"

Unless you've been living under a rock for oh, about three years now, you're familiar with the concept of an e-reader or e-book. No longer are books simply paper-bound entities, you can buy digital copies of them, and read on an electronic device. While a number of companies have jumped into the fray, such as Sony and Barnes & Noble (the Nook), the two main players in this area seem to be Amazon's Kindle (and by extension the Kindle app for iPhone/iPod Touch/iPad), and Apple's newly released iPad - although to simply call the iPad an "e-reader" is a bit misleading because it is actually much more than that, but I digress and this is not a discussion about the iPad, so back off.

The primary draw of these devices seems to be - at least to me - portability. Imagine going on a two-week trip, and wanting reading material. Now imagine wanting to take 10 of your favorite books, as well as periodicals, with you. That's a lot of luggage space - unless you have a device that is less than and inch think, is about the size of an 8.5x11 piece of paper (or less), and weighs slightly more than a pound. Tempting, huh?

You would think that making books, newspapers, and magazines more accessible would be a good thing, but there appear to be two major camps: one thinks this is the greatest thing since movable type, and the other moans, "It's the death of books! I love my shelves and the feel of paper! I shall never use a digital reader, they are the evil spawn of Satan!" (Okay, that last bit might be hyperbole, but you get the idea.)

For myself, I was kind of skeptical of these digital reading devices. Were they really as easy on the eyes as books? Can I sit for hours reading without getting a headache? Portable they might be, but could I actually use it? I was unwilling to spend $300 dollars or so to find out. Then I bought an iPod Touch. Then a co-worker showed me all the e-reader apps in the App store - not just the Kindle app (which was free), but several that came pre-loaded with a fairly large selection of classics, books like A Christmas Carol and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that are in the public domain and could be purchased for the low, low price of 99 cents - or in several cases were free. Free being free, well, I was in. After all, I could always delete the app if it sucked, right?

Oh... my... goodness.

In less than an hour, I had downloaded no fewer than five e-reader apps, including the Kindle app, Stanza, eReader, at least four classics collections, and a collection of the most important historical documents in history (the Constitution, the Gettysburg Address, the Magna Carta). I flicked open each app to test read. I was entranced - childishly thrilled with the "page turn" effect of the Classics app and it's virtual bookshelf (it even "bookmarks" your page when you close the book - hee, hee!). Almost instantly, I had close to 90 literature classics in my pocket, available for my reading pleasure at a moment's notice. It was a bibliophile's dream come true.

I downloaded Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief from the Kindle store. I read it for hours. No problem. The first three books from that series joined my collection in rapid succession.

A friend recommended the Harry Dresden series. Poof! Downloaded to Stanza.

If you're keeping count, that's almost 100 books. All on a device that weighs maybe 4 ounces and is only slightly bigger in dimension than a pack of cards. No more paging through trashy, outdated magazines in the doctor's office. No more wishing I had a bigger purse to carry around my current book. Cost? Oh, about $15-$20 at this point (the cost of the Kindle edition of books being much lower than their physical paper counterparts).

Okay, ability to carry lots of books - check. Actually able to read on it - check (and recall this is my little iPod touch screen, 2"x3" - I'd imagine the bigger screen of the Kindle or the iPad would only be better). What about ease of use?

I walked into Bruegger's bagel, ordered a chai latte, plopped myself down in a comfy chair, and started reading. It was actually easier than a book because I could turn a page by tapping the screen with my thumb, leaving my other hand free to hold my latte. It might have been the most enjoyable 30 minutes of waiting I've ever spent.

Could I read to my kids with it? An hour with my son proved I could.

Oh no! the bibliophiles scream. But what about books?

Keep your hoity-toity pants on. All this is not to say that I'll be getting rid of all my books. For starters, I have too many of them. Second, there is something very soothing to my soul to see shelves of quality hardback books. And there are some books I simply want to have in physical form - my complete Jane Austen, my complete works of Shakespeare, the Harry Potter series. Old books that have fallen out of print and aren't available digitally. But throwaway paperbacks? I might as well get the digital copy.

Gutenberg had a pretty good run - how many hundreds of years ago did it take to even start to displace the printing press? Further, I argue that digital books to not displace anything - they augment. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to read on a portable, digital device. And I can see it's use. A friend of mine is an avid reader of the NY Times. The week after he bought his iPad, the physical paper lay untouched - he read the entire thing online. Easier to carry around, easier to navigate, no black fingers from newsprint - no expensive subscription.

Anything that brings reading to a wider audience - that makes it easier to read - can only be a good thing, in my humble opinion. After all, does the soul of a book lie it the physical paper and binding, or is it in the words that are read? Anna Quindlen explored this topic in a recent Newsweek article. Is Shakespeare any less relevant in digital print? I think not.

The true soul of a story - whether a fiction novel or a factual biography/news story - is in the words of the writer, the emotions they evoke, the actions they prompt. If you read a story about the environmental damage of throwing away plastic bottles on the New York Times website, and it prompts you to reuse/recycle, is that story any less powerful because the media was digital? Um, no. If you read "Romeo and Juliet" on an e-reader, are Shakespeare's words any less true and vibrant, is the point any less relevant? Hardly. The words and intent are what is important, not the delivery mechanism.

And just as Beethoven's 9th is no less powerful because I have it digitally on my iPod, the words of Keats or Shelley are no less powerful because they are in digital form. Tell a good story, it matters not how people read it. Tell a crappy story and all the fine paper, fancy illustrations, and fine binding in the world won't make a difference. Just look at Moby Dick. =)

I can also see where digital media would be a boon to aspiring writers. After all, what is the biggest barrier to getting published (okay, after you finish the story)? Convincing some big publishing house that your work is worth the not insignificant cost of printing, binding, shipping, and storing a book. That manufacturing/storage cost is not to be scoffed at. Why can Apple offer songs for 99 cents on iTunes? Because they have almost no overhead - no CDs to burn, liner notes to print, cases to manufacture, or inventory to store. It's all ephemeral bits and bytes. Now imagine some enterprising soul starting a company to do digital publishing for up-and-coming writers. You pay a nominal fee to upload your story/novel/whatever, and folks can download it for a small fee. Will you be a blockbuster author like Tom Clancy? Maybe not, but you'll have the satisfaction of pushing your story out for people to read. And who knows, if you have enough success, maybe you can convince Simon & Schuster, or Knopf, or Houghton/Mifflin that you're worth the investment.

So to all you outraged bibliophiles I say this: relax. Books are not dead. They live on in the hearts of readers everywhere, on bookshelves and libraries across the planet.

And on my iPod.