Put the load right on me

Well, we lost another great one this week. Robbie Robertson, lead guitarist and prime songwriter of The Band, died on Wednesday, age 81. In addition to his time with Bob Dylan, he also collaborated with Martin Scorsese on many of his films.

There are so many of his creations I could share for today’s earworm. As much as I like the driving beat of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down”, I don’t much feel like promulgating anything to do with the Confederacy at the moment. So I’m giving you “The Weight”. Because, frankly, he had me at “I was feeling 'bout half-past dead”.

This version is a collaboration with Ringo Starr and a number of artists around the world, as part of Playing for Change. Seems appropriate.

 

 

Fair trade

Okay, the thing about July and August in and around the District They Call Columbia is that no matter how crappy the weather—with temps and humidity in the 90s—there are still crape myrtles. In all their brilliantly colors and stages of presentation.

 

Cycles of beauty

When I’m looking at flowers on my walks, I find that I enjoy them in all their stages. Viz: these daisy-like blooms.

I took a lot of pix of them in their pre-expansion phase, because I liked how they kind of cradled their centers with their petals, as though for protection.

Then, of course—they did their thing.

But even as they were on their uppers, I found them beautiful.

Maybe that’s just me, tho.

 

 

 

Camouflage

Last week I was heading out for my morning walk when I spotted this guy:

Well, since he was obviously pretending to be grass and thus invisible to me, I made a wide loop around him and walked on.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: finding the win

I don’t think I realized how deep I’ve been in depression ever since I learned last September that I’d be laid off in May. But the weight of that black dog must have been part of what prevented me from really scrambling to find another position in the Megalithic Software Company. Because I couldn’t bring myself to find the energy to care about the place.

Four years ago, when I was applying for the job that eventually led to MSC, I was uncharacteristically focused on and determined to be hired for that position in that company. I networked shamelessly; I researched like a boss; I bought a skirt for the in-person interview. I did everything except supply 8 x 10 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was.

Because I was playing to win, and doing that work was winning.

Somehow in the past nine months, I’ve lost the vision of what “winning” is for me. It was so crystalline back then, and I had all the energy of an F-14’s thrusters to make it happen. And confidence; whoa! But now…

To give you an idea, somehow on the train between Lyon and Arles on my trip to France last year, the lens cap on my camera jammed into the UV filter, shattering it completely. I took it out to shoot and little shards of glass fell out onto the street. It was impossible for me to replace it—there was no camera shop in Arles, and the store they directed me to in Avignon didn’t have the size I needed. I won’t shoot without protection over the lens (which cost at least a house payment-and-a-half), so for the rest of the trip I just used my mobile phone to take photos.

Since mid-November, the Nikon has sat on a shelf, waiting for me to haul my ass out to the camera shop to get a new filter. (Yes, I could order one online, but I wanted professionals to look over the lens for scratches and clean it up before putting on the filter.) Since November (with the exception of a few meals with a friend, medical appointments and going to the office until mid-May), my only outings have involved Wegmans, Costco and the public library. I just couldn't move.

Until last week when my job search accountability partner said she would be in Arlington on our meeting day and could come out to the People’s Republic and then we could go to the camera store. Well, okay. Finally.

We also discussed our career goals and next steps, and I confessed that I just don’t know what my goals are and how am I meant to get somewhere if I don’t know where it is? Do I really want to stay in tech? If so, what flavor? Do I jump on the AI bandwagon? If so, what do I do and how do I position myself? Do I stay in cyber security? If so, how do I dodge the assholes?

If I leave tech, where do I go? And what do I do?

And why does none of it excite me or inspire me or charge me up?

You see my problem? I’ve been poking at this stew on the back of the stove for at least three months and got nowhere. Because it’s all blah.

And then she mentioned writing—people need good writing, she said. That’s what I can do.

Well, yes—people do, in fact, need good writing, but it’s been my observation over the decades that everyone thinks they can write, so they see no need to pay someone to do that job. And now that ChatGPT and its ilk are out there, they just double down on it, because AI, man! It’s intelligence! And it’s cheap!

But I’ve been walking around this notion for the past few days, trying it on, taking it off, looking at the seams, feeling the texture. Is this the next pivot for me? Going back to my roots of writing? And if so, where? For whom? And for what purpose?

Is that what winning looks like now?

Well, I dunno yet. But yesterday I took out the Nikon to get some shots of the sacred lotus next door. After nine months, it felt good to have it in my hands. I stopped along the way to practice on a hydrangea and wouldn’t you know—it’s been so long since I’ve used a real camera that I forgot to check the battery! If that’s not a metaphor for my life, I do not know what one is.

So I had to walk back home, swap batteries and then go back out.

It was worth it.

(Apparently you can catch large-mouth bass in that pond.)

And that’s what I’m grateful for today: a different perspective on winning, a reminder to keep my batteries charged and the feel of shooting photos with a real camera. The depression is not lifted, but I may be able to see beyond it.