Diary of a Network Geek

Maybe I shouldn’t post after work as much…

You know, people might start to get the idea that I’m looking for work, even though I’m not. I guess it’s just that time of year when all the IT people change jobs, so everyone starts talking about career stuff.
Well, whatever, here are two more links to news/blog stories about tech resumes and researching a prospective employer from TechRepublic.com.

Enjoy!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"If the minimum wasn't acceptable it wouldn't be called the minimum."

Definately in a better mood this morning.

I think every bachelor should have a dog.  They help you clean up small food spills quickly and offer unconditional love.  Not sure which is more important or useful.
If you’re a bachelor in need of a dog, adopt one from a shelter.  In Houston, try my favorite “no-kill” shelter, H.O.P.E.

I hate giant, flying cockroaches.  Insects larger than three inches shouldn’t be allowed to fly.  The fact that they do may be used in theological discussions as proof that the end times are near.  The fact that so many of them seem to exist in the greater Houston Metropolitan Area would seem to indicate that, not only is the end of the world near, but going to start here.

I think an adopted dog is more grateful than a fru-fru dog from a fancy breeder.  At least, it makes me feel better to think I gave at least one a better life than she’d have gotten otherwise.

I don’t believe all those “rapture” bumper stickers.  I think anyone who’s quite so sure they’re going to be part of the rapture is under-estimating the requirements.  Also, they’re not familiar with the history of the rapture concept.

The best thing about being able to drink coffee again is that I haven’t been this regular in months.  And, I’m awake to notice it.

I must be doing well at work, because my boss has seen me work so many small miracles that he now has unrealistic expectations of what I can do in a single day.  Very unrealistic expectations.

I must be recovering from the effects of chemotherapy, because I have stubble in the middle of the week for the first time since losing my hair.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"I love deadlines. I especially love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
   --Douglas Adams

Or, the lack thereof.

Okay, so, those of you who know me and my professional career know that security is near and dear to my heart.  Now, I’m no hacker or even a full time security professional, but I’m very, very aware of security and how important it is.  In my last post, I mentioned how much I love having so much wifi connectivity and how nice it was when I was in the hospital to have that easy access.  Well, that’s still true, but I also know how open and insecure that wireless connection is.
This year at DefCon, there was a very popular demo that showed just how easy it was to get information off a wireless connection and exploit it.  In fact, some poor attendee, who should have known better, got his Gmail account hacked, in public, because he didn’t secure his connection properly.  And, earlier this year, some German security experts went on at length about how insecure the WEP protocol is and why that shouldn’t be your only line of defense on wireless networks.

Now, as much as I enjoy my wifi, I’ve also been very vocal about how insecure wifi networks are, by their very nature, for years.  In fact, I got into a rather heated “discussion” with a co-worker and our mutual manager about that at a former job.  Somehow, neither of these gentlemen quite understood how throwing packets out all over, where anyone could snoop them, was an inherently insecure system, even if you used advanced encryption.  Encryption, as the hackers say, is meant to be broken, and sooner or later, it always is.  Again, this is all just logic and reason, but, in a world where anyone who manages a website and a handfull of PCs can call himself a Director of IT, the practical application of logic and reason is a rare thing indeed.
So, enjoy those free wifi connections at your favorite coffee house, but, keep in mind how easy it is for a hacker, or even a script kiddie, to pull vital information off that wide open connection.

(And, if you’re going to DefCon, check out their “Be Prepared” guide, or the DefCon survival guide at the Register.)

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time."
   --Abraham Lincoln

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of.
Benjamin Franklin, ‘Poor Richard’s Almanack,’ June 1746

I’ve been thinking about time a lot lately.
Specifically, how much time I’ve wasted over the years and all the ways I’ve wasted it.  I think too much and do too little.  Hell, I channel surf too much and produce too little.  I’ve been making a concerted effort to do more lately.  It probably doesn’t show on my blog, as I’ve not been producing entries at my pre-cancer rate, but I have been reading a bit more.  And, I’ve been talking to people more.  That, in its own strange way, is productive for me.  Oh, I can list off excuses galore for why I haven’t done more, espeically lately, but, in the end, that’s all they are, excuses.  So, I’m trying to waste less time.  To have fewer wasted moments.  Obviously, I’m far from perfect on this, but, in the end, if I want to change my life then I have to make the change I want.

So, I’m trying.  Trying to lead a more productive life that makes me happy.
A friend asked me some time back what I did to have fun and I was stumped.  It’s been so long since I allowed myself to have fun, as opposed to just not work, that I didn’t have a good answer.  Freakishly, I think the last fun I had was coding some Perl or PHP for my writing and fantasy webpage, Fantasist.net.  I guess that really does make me a hard-core geek, but, well, getting the funky tools working on that site really did kind of flip my switch.  Not enough to make a career out of it, but enough to give me a sense of geeky glee.  Sadly, many of those tools have been disabled because my current webhost can’t deal with the traffic that they were generating.  So, maybe, when I have a little more mental snap, I’ll work at recoding them to work with different technology so that they don’t overload their servers anymore.

And, along with all the reading, I’m going to try to write more.
For me, actually writing is about letting go.  Letting go of all the crap that I know will come out before the gold does.  That’s always been the way of creating really good stuff, at least for me, knowing that 90% of it will be crap and that’s okay.  Also, it’s about discipline.  Now, there are people who know me that would tell you I’m the most disciplined man they know, but I know better.  It only takes a moment for that discipline to slip and, once it slips, it’s hard to get back.  Writing is like that.  I used to write all the time and the discipline was easy, but now…  Well, now it’s slipped and it’s proven very hard to get back.  Still, if I own that I want and need to work at getting it back in enoug places with enough people, then I hope that I’ll be able to do just that.
We’ll see.

So, I can’t promise that I’ll never have another wasted moment.
I know people tend to think that surviving cancer, which I haven’t even quite done yet, is supposed to change my life in some deep, meaningful way that leads me to “Live Strong” and do away with wasted moments, but it’s not quite so simple.  Changing a life is hard, but, I think it’ll be worth it, so I’m working at that.  Who knows, maybe one day, if I change enough, my former step-daughter will look past the lies her mother has told her and see someone worth getting to know again.  For that alone, it would be worth making some life changes.
In the end, all I can do is try.  And, so, I will.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"I love deadlines. I especially love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
   --Douglas Adams

Yes, there are many things far worse than cancer.

Take, for instance, Peng Shulin, who was cut in half in an accident in 1995. Even though he managed to survive that, he’s been bedridden since then. I cannot imagine holding on through that ordeal and the life he’s had since. But, there’s hope even in that kind of tragic story, because he’s just gotten the ultimate prosthetic, a set of “bionic” legs.

Frankly, I don’t normally link to stuff like this, but when I saw that article, and the look on his face when he was taking his first steps since 1995, I just had to share it. Sure, going through cancer treatment has been tough and I’ve had some really down days, but things could always be worse.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."

So, nothing’s changed.

I had this argument once, with a manager who essentially fired me for not knowing when a drive would fail, about how it was impossible to predict if, or when, a drive would, in fact, fail. Guess what? When I told him it was impossible to tell before it happened, I was actually right. At least, according to this blog entry on ZDNet, I was. Gee, I guess I really did know what I was talking about all those years ago and was, in fact, a subject-matter expert who was actually paid to know more about a technical subject than the guy who managed him. Now, if only he had figured that out then gotten out of my way to let me do what I do best…
Ah, well, water under the bridge now.

Besides, it taught me that being right isn’t always the most important thing.  Especially when I’m being loudly, stridently right with witnesses.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"I'm always amazed that people take what I say seriously. I don't even take what I am seriously."
   --David Bowie

I’m not normally one for modern religious music, but…

But, well, I’m not sure if it’s the cancer or the way my church, Mercy Street, rallied around me so, but I popped a pirataed copy of Lifesong by Casting Crowns into the CD player on the way home from work. (Yes, work! I worked a full day today!) The second track on that CD always gets me these days. The song is Praise You In This Storm and the lyric that never fails to jerk a tear from me is “…I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away.”

It’s been a hard lesson for me to learn these past five years, or so, that things pass on.  Both good and bad things, but, mainly, I’m thankful that I’ve finally learned God will take the pain away, if I just wait and let Him.  All the pain.  It’s not just my body He’s healing, but my spirit, too.  Surely, if I can learn to endure the pain of the proceedures I’ve been through and the fear of what might be coming next by leaning on His strength and trusting His plan for me, all the other pain that seems to hold on for so much longer will pass, too.  All the fear of not being enough to be worthwhile.  All the worry that I’m not spiritual enough, or good enough, or enough of a friend.  All those things that pull at me and weigh me down He can take away if I just let them go.  I just need to trust Him and believe that God will continue to do those things for me that he’s already done.  All those things I can’t seem to do without His help become possible, when I just let go and let Him be in charge.

Today, in the car, the thought that I never was able to pass that lesson along to my former step-daughter pulled more tears than usual from me.  As hard and tough as I like to think I am, the thought that I failed that little girl in any way still pulls at my heart.  It’s the hardest thing for me to let go of, but, today, I realize the most important.  I don’t know if she even knows that I was diagnosed with cancer, or how she would feel about that if she did, but I wonder.  I hope that she’s not afraid for me, if she knows.  I hope someone has made it clear to her that I won’t let this kill me, if she ever wants to know who I’ve become since she saw me last.  I suspect that she doesn’t even know, or think about it.  Perhaps she will one day, but I don’t think so today.
I just hope she learns from someone, somewhere, somehow, that any pain she feels now will eventually pass away and need not overwhelm her.  Somehow, I think that’s an important thing for her to know and it pains me that I never had the opportunity to teach that to her.

I suppose the blessing is that my pain over that shortcoming will pass, too.
So, as God sustains me and heals me through this process, He teaches me lessons, too.  How blessed am I?

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine."
   --Proverbs 27:22 (KJV)

So, I’m in MD Anderson.

Turns out old Cletus was a bit more aggressive than we first realized.
Tuesday, I went to see my oncologist and she was a little concerned about how much Cletus was restricting my breathing, so she had me admitted on an emergency basis Tuesday night. Thankfully, I have an amazing array of friends who all jumpped in and started taking care of everything for me right away. So, my darling Hilda is being taken care of, and, in fact is probably being spoiled by someone who’s even more codependant with my dog than I am. I actually think she went and bought McDonald’s fries just because Hilda likes them.
Tomorrow, and most likely Saturday, I’ll have people all up in my house cleaning it and stocking it with food for my parents who will be arriving Tuesday evening. Someone else has already made arrangements to pick them up from the airport and help them find their way around Houston. At least, as far as getting to the medical center and back home. Naturally, they’ll be staying at my house. All that room does come in handy.

Now, I suppose you’re wondering about what kind of cancer I have and what my treatment will be. Okay, I have diffuse large B cell lymphoma, which, in case you’re wondering, is not good. On the menu of cancers, this is not one a wise person would pick. What’s more, it’s an aggresive case. On a scale of 1 to 100, Cletus rates a 90. Not the best way to be an overachiever, is it?
The concern is, however, how fast and far it’s spread. That’s the problem with lymphoma like Cletus, he tends to sleep around and spred his problems all over, real quick. So, after having had several different kinds of scans in the past two days, tomorrow, I’ll have a few more and then follow that with a couple of bone marrow biopsies, which will most likely be a pain the ass, literally. They seem to want to take samples out of my hips, by way of holes in my backside. So, we’ll see how that goes.  I haven’t started chemotherapy yet, either, but I should be starting that soon, too.  I expect that it will be as aggressive as Cletus.  Not sure if I’ll lose my hair or not, but I do rather expect this to knock me on my ass for a bit.

But, all that being said, I don’t expect to die.  I think some people who have been following this the past couple weeks might be afraid that I’m going to, but I’m not.  I don’t know quite what God has in mind for me, but I really don’t think He’s brought me through all the crap of the last five years to kill me now.  I just don’t think it’s part of His plan to kill me at 38 with so much left to do.
Rather, I think I’m meant to survive this, too, so that someone I haven’t even met yet, who will need an extra helping of hope that I’ll be able to provide after I’m well.  I feel this deep in my heart and bones.  I know that my life’s purpose has not quite been fullfilled yet, and that is why I will, why I must, make it through all this.  I don’t think it will be pleasant and I’m sure parts of it will hurt, but I don’t plan on dying any time soon.

So, keep up your prayers for me, and keep on living your lives.  I’ll be well soon and I’ll do my best to keep you all updated via the blog.
Thank you for your support.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes."
   --Sally Field

Well, there’s even less to report so far this week.
My paperwork is being sent from the pulmonary/thoracic area to the lymphoma specialists.  So, instead of getting a date with an oncologist yesterda, I got shuffled into another paper queue for two days.  When I finally get to meet this oncologist, she better be cute and single!
I’ve already informed my “inside man” at MD Anderson where we are in this process.  They promised me that they’d keep watch over my paperwork and make sure it gets to the right place and people.  Unfortunately, I forgot to put in my request for a cute, *red-headed*, single, *female* oncologist, so there’s no telling who I’ll end up getting poked and  prodded by eventually.  I really must learn to make notes to remind myself about the important things.

On a lighter note, I’ve named my tumor Cletus.
Why “Cletus” you ask?  Well, he’s sort of inbred, swimming at the wrong end of the gene pool and no one really wants him to show up at the family picnic, so Cletus just seemed to fit.  (With apologies in advance for anyone with a favorite relative named Cletus.)
Besides, giving the little bastard a name takes away a little bit of the fear that’s developed while waiting for a full diagnosis.  Sure, a tumor named Cletus may make you shudder in disgust, but who can really be afraid of anything named “Cletus”?

When I finally get an appointment with an actual doctor who might actually tell me something useful about my tumor and treatment, I’ll let you all know.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"The safe way to double your money is to fold it over and put it in your pocket."
   --Frank Hubbard

A funny thing happened this weekend that reminded me of two things from my youth.

I won’t go into what just happened, but it involved gossip and reputations.
What it reminded me of, however, was two girls I knew in the sixth and seventh grades.

When I was in the sixth grade, a lot of us had already started that magical time of our lives called puberty. Naturally, some of us developed at a somewhat faster rate than others. For instance, my voice changed one weekend to the start of the rumbling basso profundo whose mellow tones you heard almost two years ago, reciting poetry. But, it was the girls who developed early that had the most problems.
There was one in particular that made quite an impression on me. Her name was Lindsey and she had the unfortunate last name of Popper. Naturally, having developed a figure in the sixth grade led to all sorts of ways to use that name in childish ways. But, what I remember of Lindsey wasn’t that she developed early, really. I remember this girl who moved from Atlanta, Georgia to the very different suburbs of Chicago being shy and lonely. She had very long hair, and she used it to show me an interesting little trick. In one of those strange moments of childhood intimacy, we were together in the back corner of a classroom with no one but the teacher around. She pulled one of those long hairs and made it into a kind of noose or leash, then she caught a fly and used her hair to make a “pet” out of the fly. In that small moment, I saw the sweet, tender girl that she was, not the false reputation that her body had earned her from jealous girls or spiteful boys. She was just another child of God, filled with wonder at the world and sharing that magic with me.
We became sort of secret friends after that, because, then, as now, I was tragically unhip and I knew it. We hardly talked after that, because her “boyfriend” liked to pick on me, but, every once in awhile, Lindsey and I would share a secret smile and remember that day when she was just a person revealing herself to another person. I learned more about the opposite sex in that moment than probably any other. Sadly, I forgot it for many years and I’m only relearning it now.

The other girl, from the seventh grade, was named Marcy Bloom. Also an unfortunate name for nice girl who, if you’ll pardon the pun, blossomed early. We were in a music class together that was a big deal. The teacher was very well liked and at the end of each semester, her class put on a small production with dance moves and top 40 music of the day. I shudder to think about the fact that we actually danced to “The Stroke (aka Stroke Me)” by Billy Squire.
In any case, I’d been out for a couple of days for some reason, either family vacation or illness, I don’t remember which. So, as a result, I was behind on learning the feeble dance moves that uncoordinated adolescents were capable of learning. Marcy was assigned the task of helping me catch up. I was rather not well accepted by the “cool kids” back then, seeing as how I was a total dork, so she was a little apprehensive about me to start with. Add to that the fact that every guy in school used to watch her chest when they talked to her and, well, I think you can probably see why she was less than happy with having to deal with me. But, I made up my mind to just be nice and polite and make a lot of eye contact. By the time I was caught up, she was totally at ease around me and even gave me a hug for something I did or said.
The lesson learned? Women, especially those who God has blessed a little extra, prefer to be looked in the eye, not the nipple. A lesson that serves me well even now.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Pay no attention to the faults of others, things done or left undone by others. Consider only what by oneself is done or left undone."