Diary of a Network Geek

Okay, so I didn’t make it quite as early this morning.
I made it through yesterday on caffeine and gumption, but I did make it through to almost 1:00AM before dropping off. So, I figure that hitting the blog before hitting the road at about 7:00AM isn’t too bad for starting some new habits. Right? Hilda seemed more eager, at least. So, when I finish my Monster energy drink, I’ll grab a cup of fancy joe and get out walking again. Then, I have those palm trees to dig up and that ugly-ass hedge to rip out. I still haven’t decided on a fruit tree, but I don’t think mangoes will work. Thanks to a friend, though, I now have some choices. He sent me a link to the Garden of Delights, which is a totally cool site that sells unusual fruiting plants. I might get one of their non-ornamental banana trees. I definitely want to get some of their coffee plants. I might not ever actually brew my own, home-grown coffee, but just the idea cranks me up. Either way, though, the ugly stuff comes out today.
I also just sent an e-mail to a totally cool, interesting chick on Match.com. Not unusual in and of itself, but this lady started her own dog biscuit company. How cool is that? I’m hoping that we might be able to hook up so, at the very least, I can pump her for how she got her business going. Hoffman’s Holistic Canine Cookies might become a reality yet! Hell, I wouldn’t even mind being a subcompany of her’s. Or even just a brand that collects some royalties!!
Oh, and one last thing before I go. I hope to have a new reader soon. I sat and talked with one of my ministers yesterday afternoon and told him about this blog. Now, understand, I’m used to being hit up for something when a minister wants to get together for a cup of coffee. I’m not used to a guy who just is interested in me and wants to get to know me. Very strange feeling for me. And, before you think it, no he’s not gay. Happily married with two kids and totally straight. He’s also very cool. Didn’t even flinch when we drove over to the Fourbucks in my Black Beast listening to Sehnsucht by Rammstein or when I showed him my tattoos. Way cool minister and a heck of a preacher. (You can check that out for yourself at Mercy Street.) We’ll see if he’s brave enough to comment. 😉
Well, time for my walk. Later!

I’m up at an un-Godly hour today.
Why? Well, simple. I want to be in better shape and get more done with my life. How does that relate to being up before the Sun on a Saturday? Well, I got this crazy idea that running would help me be in better shape. I think it comes from the fact that all the really hot people, men and women, I’ve seen lately seem to be runners. Lean, mean, running machines. So, when do they find the time? Before that balefull, red-gold, burning eye in the sky can look down on them and sear their flesh. Or, so it seems. I mean, people blog about how the early morning light hurts their eyes before they run, then people comment on those posts about how to be a “morning person”.
So, I set my alarms and got up. My dog squinted at me in the unfamiliar Saturday light as if to say, “What the hell are you doing? Why are you waking me up, Dummy?” It was, I assure you, adorable. I pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans and a ball cap, then stumbled my way into the kitchen to start the coffee. While I listened to it brew, I read my morning devotional and slurped down a Full Throttle engery drink. Now, it’s a quick cup of joe, my new running shoes and out with the dog for my first, early-morning, high-speed shuffle. When I work it up to a run, I’ll let you all know.
Maybe Hilda and I will bump into the new, improved, healthier me out there in the dark. Here’s hoping.

So, I’ve been a little, well, off, the past couple of days.
There’s a reason, but, frankly, not one I want to put out for everyone to read. My regular readers, who have left good e-mail addresses, will most likely get a private e-mail with why. But, I won’t post it. The e-mail will make it clear, but, yes, there’s a girl involved. Hey, with me, there’s always a girl involved.
In any case, after a day of hell at the office, combined with the purgatory that’s become my personal life, I decided that I’d take my favorite girl for a ride. I’ve been listening to lots of new music lately, everything from Rob Zombie to Bowling For Soup to the Brian Setzer Orchestra. And, most of that gets listened to in my car, so I’ve really enjoyed driving the Black Beast, as I call my Crown Vic. It’s a retired police crusier, that still has the big V-8 and police tranny on it. Burns gas like an open fire, but it’s got a smooth ride and never has trouble accelerating into traffic on the highway.
Anyway, I popped in some Gwen Stefani and picked up my favorite redhead for a little drive and some dinner. Of course, I mean Hilda, my dog. And dinner was a trip to PetSmart for her, and some 99¢ tacos from Jack-in-the-Box for me. Well, okay, I shared some of them with her, too. I spoil her a little extra when I’m feeling down at all. She always appreciates it and always shows me love. Now, if I could just find a nice girl who felt the same way…

It’s been a long week.
And, frankly, next week doesn’t look like it’s going to get any easier. For starters, I’ve been wrestling with this server at work. I mean this has been real Jacob wrestling with the Angel kind of epic battle stuff here. In fact, it was so bad that just today I was looking at returning Novell’s Open Enterprise Server and SuSE Linux in favor of Windows Server 2003. For those of you who know me and know my Novell zealotry, you know how much I would have hated to do that. Thankfully, the guy Novell sent over to help out got me squared away. I think I’ve actually been Novell certified longer than he’s been in the business, but, still, he knew his stuff, so it’s all good.
I’ve been trying to get the server installed for the past two weeks and kept running into strange errors. Well, it turns out to have a really, tiny, picaune thing. Remember some time back I was talking about naming conventions? Turns out it was more important than you could imagine. In the old days, we all used the underscore character in our tree names, as in “CompanyName_Tree”. Now, apparently, no one uses that convention and, as a result, a bug slipped through that kills the install. So, do I get a prize for finding it? Doubtful.
In any case, we managed to convince the boss that we should stick with Linux and OES and that we’d go over the migration tools tomorrow, which is when most of you will be reading this post anyway. So, I’m still going to get those career goals in after all. Woot!

On other fronts, I’ve got at least one, dear, sweet lady crawling all over my site to try and find out all about me. No matter what she finds here, and, yes, I am directing her to put the best possible spin on who I am, it still won’t be me. Not all of me. Not the part of me that people really love. The blog gives information, but, I’m more than the sum of my stories. And, in fact, many stories simply won’t ever see print, here or anywhere else. I have collections of odd, little facts and strange, obtuse skills that simply don’t fit well into a blog. And my humor doesn’t really play well in print, either. It’s all timing with me, and you can’t do timing very well in print. Still, I worry that we’ll be all out of things to talk about by the time we actually connect for coffee. I hope she’s ready to talk about herself!
And, several people have come to me for advice in the past week. Or, I’ve seen a couple of situations that I’d like to advise people about. Thankfully, I’ve shown restraint. Mostly. No one really wants me to give them advice. My advice is rarely well recieved, even if it is dead on. It may be my communication style, but, whatever it is, people sure don’t like hearing my advice. i do try and temper it by starting off with “Well, if I were in your position, I’d…” Doesn’t always work that well. Of course, I never said I made the best choices for myself, either! Still, sometimes it’s just like watching a slow-motion train wreck. You can see it all happening, but what can you do? These folks wouldn’t believe me if I told them the pattern I see in their lives. They’d just get pissed off at me. Of course, it wouldn’t change that I was right or that they knew I was right, but, still…

Well, there’s more, but my brain is all a-whirl with thoughts of my upcoming day, weekend and week that I can’t summon them up. Besides, I have a feeling I’d really irritate someone if I did! Always seems to work that way. So, it’s off to a lonely bed with my faithful companion. G’night.

I used to volunteer for H.O.P.E.
But, foolishly, I thought I’d have more time, not less, after the divorce was over, so I stopped making it a habit. The end result is that I haven’t been there to help out in months. I’m an official, paid member and everything, but, I had really intended to actually help out at the adoption center. Well, I’ve always been good at compartmentalizing guilt, so I did that very thing and forgot about it. So, yesterday, I’m running errands and swing by PetSmart, where H.O.P.E. does their adoptions from, off 290, to pickup some food for my Hilda. Hilda was a rescue dog that we got at H.O.P.E.. In fact, that was why I started volunteering there, because, at the time I’d lost Hilda, I was keeping an eye out for a replacement pup. Now, I come into contact with these folks for the first time in months.
Okay, here’s the thing… Back when “I” was “we” and “we” got Hilda, there was another dog I connected with named Sage. He was a good dog, though at the time, he had sort of a bad reputation, being, essentially, a Pit-mix. But, click that link and you’ll see that he’s a beautiful dog. And, at least to me, friendly as all get out. In fact, as memory serves, he did better with the women-folk than guys, but he and I got along really well. Unfortunately, he had issues. For one, he liked cats. Apparently, the thought they were quite tasty. Sadly, we had two cats at the time and picked up a third. Besides that little hiccup, my ex-wife was terrified of him. She’d been bitten by a dog, according to her, as a kid and had physical and mental scars. In fact, it was a fight to get my submissive, sweet-tempered Hilda! (I’m not sure how much of her story was true, though, since she apparently lied on a regular basis to get her way. If only I’d realized that sooner… Ah, well.)
Anyway, when I went in yesterday, Sage, was still there, three years later, looking for a permanent home. So, here I am, the ex is long gone, so that obstacle is removed. I got Hilda back because she allegedly killed one of the poor, sickly, geriatric cats that my ex dragged with her out to Phoenix. Personally, I think it was something else, because the story I got doesn’t mesh with how a dog would kill a cat, and, frankly, I don’t trust those two to ever do anything but lie. Still, the upshot is, I won’t take the risk of having cats with her, so that removes another “obstacle” to adopting Sage. Now, the question becomes, how would my darling, spoiled, little girl take to having another dog in the house? She seems to enjoy other dogs, after she gets to know them. But, I worry about how well she’d take it. And, I’m going to have to do some travelling for work here shortly, so I’m not entriely sure I want to add a dog to my house until after that time. Lots of variables to consider, but, well, I can’t help it. I’m seriously thinking about adopting a brother for Hilda.
Thoughts?

Or, Hoffman’s Home for Wayward Boys, The Revenge of the Wayward Boys.
So, now, for a short time only, I have a second roommate. A friend of Doc’s who’s been “asked to leave” his house by his wife. Yes, for those of you paying attention, there is a theme here at Hoffman’s Home for Wayward Boys. Trouble with the wife seems to be the first step to the path that leads everyone through my home this year. Hopefully, that will change one day soon. As much as I like helping guys out, I’d much rather that their lives were rolling along smoothly enough that they were coming to “visit” because I’m just so cool. Well, I’ll settle for available right now. The dog and her unconditional love may have something to do with it, too. She’s real popular these days and getting spoiled with all the attention. I’m just thankful that I have the room to let people crash at my place while they get things straightened out, though, it looks like I’ll have to get some more keys made if this keeps up.

It’s funny, but I tried to explain why I do things like this to Doc last night and I don’t thing he got it. See, I owe my ex-wife a debt I can never repay. About four years ago, she kicked me out of the house for a bit which sent me down a path that really helped me straighten out my life a lot. Sadly, along the way, one of the things that needed straightening was our relationship and the only way for that to work out was for her to either do some spiritual work herself or, well, the way things ended up. I know I’m far, far better off without her, but, still, I’m keenly aware that I wouldn’t be who I am today if not for her and that relationship. Of course, since she has a personality like a wounded rattlesnake, there’s not much point trying to pay her back for anything I percieve she did for me. And, really, anything she did for me was incidental to her getting what she wanted. But, still… Still, it’s a reminder, like I got via e-mail, that something good can come from even a situation as bad as that one one was. And, I find the need to pass that kind of growth opportunity along, so I find myself doing things like opening my home to guys who are where I was a couple of years ago. Honestly, it’s not much, but it’s all I can do. And, it’s a small price to pay for the life I have today.

I ate the whole thing…
Well, not the whole thing, but, close enough.
See, I couldn’t afford to be home with family this year for Christmas, so I made Christmas dinner for Doc and I Sunday afternoon. It was good, but, as per usual when I really get into my cooking, I over-indulged a little bit.
Hilda, of course, made out like a bandit. Not only did she get several giant bones from Santa, but stole a large piece of turkey from the counter. She was so cute, though, that I could hardly stay mad at her. Besides, I probably would have given her a piece later, anyway.
Obviously, I survived reading Scripture. You have to picture this, though, the first time I’m reading or speaking in front of a significant crowd in close to 20 years and Mercy Street was packed to overflowing. It was literally standing room only. I think I read too fast, but, according to people in the audience, I did just fine. They should eventually have a podcast of the service available, so, you know I’ll have to go check it out and see how bad I rushed it.
I received a warning phone-call from a friend, followed by a call from his new, er, dating, ah, girl… Oh, whatever she is, she called to invite me to a New Year’s Eve party. Apparently, he was worried that they were going to be a little testosterone impaired, so I got called in for reinforcements. I’ll be bringing my near infamous beer bread, too, so that I’m there for more than my gender. (Hey, a guy’s gotta’ do what a guy’s gotta’ do.)
I abandoned the book I was trying to force myself to finish this weekend, Writing Personal Essays. It just wasn’t giving me any really new information and I was reading it out of some compulsive “need” to finish everything I start or not let even a second-hand book go to waste or something. Anyway, I felt much better setting it down and re-reading my copy of a book I gave Doc for Christmas called Zen in the Martial Arts. Back in the days when I studied a bit of several martial arts, I read this and got a lot out of it. In fact, I used to read this book every couple of years, but I haven’t recently, until this weekend. It was a little frightening how relevant the message was to my life right now.
Today, I’ll start a book I grabbed while waiting in line at Border’s, getting last minute gifts, called The Torturer’s Apprentice. The title grabbed me and the table of contents, with the titles of the short-stories contained therein, really hooked me, so I bought it. It’s literary fiction, which I don’t usually read, so, I’m stepping outside my comfort zone. Again. Seems like a good season to do that.
Though, I’m not stepping too far out. My mother was asking about my blog last night. I told her that there’s nothing here she needs to read. I’m fairly certain that my brother reads the blog, now and again, but he won’t say anything and no one in the family will ask. My mother was just messing with my head. See how my family is? Explains a lot about my warped sense of humor, doesn’t it?

No, not another silly game.
I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately. Okay, probably too many and in too much detail, but, still, I’ve seen a pattern emerge. Folks are sure depressed this time of year. Mostly, I’m not, though. Sure, I’ve got mounds of debt, no hope for promotion or salary increase in my current job, I’m single and a little lonely, I miss my step-daughter who won’t talk to me because of lies told to her by her mother, I just had a roommate move in after swearing never to do that again after college, I’d like to lose a couple pounds and I can’t afford to go see my family at Christmas. But, it’s still okay. My life is in a state of change, as is everyone’s. Right now, the universe is roughing off a part of my life that, well, isn’t working well. Not sure what part that is, yet, but that’s what’s been going on for the past year.
So, I’m happy. Why? Well, let’s count the blessings, eh? I have a job that lets me pay my bills. I have my house and my dog. My dog still loves me. I have a good roommate and the extra rent doesn’t hurt. I have no major maladies, physical, mental or emotional. I have family who, despite the stupid things I’ve done and said over the years, still loves me very much. And, frankly, as crazy as it is this year and as dark as things seem sometimes, my life is still better than it was last year at this time.
Hey, there are homeless people out there who would love to have a warm place to sleep. There are guys in jail who would love to have a family to come home to when they get out. There are lots of people who can’t pay their bills at all. So, what do I have to kick about?

Right. So, how do I maintain that? Find someone to help. Simple, isn’t it? Find someone who’s worse off than you, and, yes, there’s always someone, and then help them. Doesn’t have to be big. Doesn’t even have to involve money. Just a little time spent listening can help. Or a hug to someone who needs it. Maybe a few words of encouragement that gets someone over that unbearable hump. We can all make a difference, one little smile at a time.
So, your Christmas Season Advice from your Uncle Jim? You only pass this way once, but you can leave a memory that lasts a lifetime. What kind of memory do you want to leave people? I suggest a smiling face and a kind word. Folks seem to remember that longer than the other.

If anyone needs me for anything, just leave a comment. If you want to keep it private, start the comment PRIVATE! and I’ll make sure it doesn’t post to the blog.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"There is no failure except no longer trying."
   --Elbert Hubbard

Yeah, so what keeps you up at night?

I have a leak in that crazy water sculpture thing I did a couple of months ago. Apparently, in the cold, a seal popped and now there’s water everywhere. Of course, I didn’t find it until after church, so I can’t do anything about it until the morning.

I worry about my readers. I’ve got far too many good-looking, female readers for my comfort level. Do you ladies worry about that? The guys who read your blogs? See, I have a little social anxiety and that spills over to here. I’m afraid of scaring you all away with my crazy thoughts. Yet another reason to self-edit, eh? It really freaks me out to think you’re out there reading this. Geeks are safe, but, you adorable, magnificent, brilliant, beautiful ladies scare the bejeezus out of me. Really.

Who the heck is reading my blog via a Blackberry? Look, I know four people who might read this blog that also have Blackberries. One is a guy I see every day at work and he had no need to read this blog. He knows details about my life that this blog will never, ever see. One is a lady, and I mean a real lady, who could, in theory, read my blog wirelessly, but, again, has no real reason to do so. (In fact, Uncle Jim will let you pretty gals in on a secret. You want to know more about me than what’s showing up here? Ask me. You’ll be horrified at how free I am with personal information. If you ask the right questions, you’ll even get answers to things I should keep my big yap shut about, too.) The other two are my ex-wife and her meal ticket. But, since I know it burns them up to read this stuff, I don’t block their IP addresses. Let them come! So, they might be reading this on a Blackberry, but they sure don’t need to. Who are you mystery Blackberry user? Who are you!?

I also worry about why I can’t seem to overcome inertia enough to get my ex-wife’s junk thrown out. Granted, there’s a lot of it and some of it I should sell, but, still… Hey, anyone want to buy a platinum wedding ring with low mileage? Hardly worn, I swear! (No joke. She hardly wore her wedding ring. And, yes, I worry why I couldn’t see that sign of impending doom.)

I lay awake at night trying to figure out safe topics for small talk. Why is it that I can talk to girls under the age of twelve and women over the age of fifty, but women between twenty-one and forty leave me speechless? Last week a woman in that age group was watching me at church. Yea, church. I was doing origami, as I often do during the sermon, and she was watching me out of the corner of her eye. I should have been able to chat her up, shouldn’t I? What should I have said?

Why is it so hard to get a cup of coffee? I mean regular coffee, not a complicated Starbucks Venti Caramel Macchiato Half-Caf with a Ristretto, Upside Down. All I want is a cup of regular, black diner coffee. Where can you get that in Houston? I mean, without getting a whole meal. I just want a simple cup of coffee. Is that so much to ask? Sure, coffee houses are nice places to meet and talk and whatever, but, uh, if I wanted that kind of complication, I can dwell on my failed marriage. Thanks, but I’d rather have something easier that doesn’t give me gas or indigestion.

Why do pretty women roam in packs like wild marauders in a dystopian, post-nuclear-holocaust science-fiction movie?

Does my dog really smile at me? And is it because she really loves me or because I feed her?

Am I ugly? Too fat? Does my goatee look weird?

Do chicks really dig “sensitive guys” who pour their emotions out in a blog?

Am I cool because I have tattoos? Or does that freak people out, too?

Is it really cool to be a computer geek again?

Does desperation really have an actual smell? What about love?

Yeah, what about love? Can you ever really love someone? Even after you’ve been betrayed? Even after you look back and see all the times that your lover/spouse has most likely been unfaithful?

Is it fair to ask someone to change when you don’t want to change yourself?

Can I die from lack of sleep? Or will I just have a psychotic break? Will I know when that happens? Or, is it really subtle like those stupid Magic Eye books that never seem to work for me anyway?

Am I too effeminate because I want someone to hold me and stroke my hair and tell me that she loves me? Or that I just want someone who trusts me enough to tell me the truth and then fall asleep with her head on my chest? And, is it weird that I want that more than actual sex?

Is it really that late? Right. I’m going to go lay down and try to sleep now. I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Or, why can’t Uncle Jim sleep?
Honestly, I wish I knew why I was up before the Sun, making coffee and eating oatmeal. I haven’t had insomnia like this since the week before my ex-wife left, when things had become so unbearable that I was just waiting, begging, for that other shoe to drop. Just so that it would be over and done and the next thing could start. But, that’s not why I can’t sleep.
Is it my new roommate, Doc, throwing me off my stride? Maybe. Is it that my “faithful” dog is upstairs in the hallway outside Doc’s room, instead of on the bed with me? Probably. I’ve gotten quite used to that little, brown dog sleeping with me.
Honestly, I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I slept fine on the couch before Doc got back from cleaning his old place. Not long enough, but, I guess, today we’ll see how Uncle Jim can manage on two hours sleep. Well enough, I’d imagine. I’ve done it before and, though I’m not getting any younger, I’m still not so old that a couple of restless nights will kill me. In fact, I’ve pulled many a long night with little sleep in my IT career, often outlasting kids younger than I.
So, the coffee’s done and I’m going to have a cup and a rare, early-morning smoke. (Hey, it’s better than an “eye-opener”!)
In 24 hours, I’ll be 37 years old.