Diary of a Network Geek

I see a trend here…

Okay, you loyal readers know that I am out there in the great, big world of dating again. You also know by now that I’m an observer of human nature and see things from a slightly skewed point of view. So, keeping both those things in mind, go read the two articles I’m about to link to: A Week of Picking Up Men and A Week of Picking Up Women.

Back? Great! Did you notice what I did? There were only two places that these two people both went looking for a potential date: the gym and the park/dog park. And, yes, I think there is a substantial difference between the park and a dog park, but it’s close enough for my purposes. Is it any wonder we have trouble meeting people? We go through our single lives, in theory always ready to find “true love”, but rarely looking in the same places. Or, is that just very clever strategy?
The woman went searching for places where men could show off for her, or where they’re “in their element”, so to speak. Of course, some of that assumes the stereotype of men being emotionally closed off and only able to communicate via sports or hardware. Or, maybe, that’s just the type of man this particular woman prefers. In any case, she tends toward a setting where she’s, basically, on men’s theoretical turf.
Notice, in contrast, that the man put himself, generally, in situations where either he was one of the few men available, or where women would have their guard down already. Even at the gym, he sought out a class that was entirely women. Also, notice how he started out hitting on a girl who clearly thought he was too old for her? Does that happen a lot? Somehow, I’m betting it does.
Oh, and did you notice where he had the most trouble? The bookstore! Which, as you might remember, is where my therapist sent me to try and find a date. What did this guy say about that? Basically, that I’d either have to be an idiot or have a lot of chutzpah to pull it off. Okay, that explains my “success rate” at Borders!

So, since most of my readers are of the female variety, do you have any suggestions for a poor schlub like me dangling his bait in shark infested waters?

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Whether you think you can or think you can't, you're right."
   --Henry Ford

I probably should have specified magazine subscriptions that I let lapse for a reason when I put up that poll.

For instance, Writer’s Digest. Writer’s Digest recycles the same writing articles, or article subjects, about every 18 months. Nothing I haven’t read or don’t have in a book.
Or, National Geographic. Nice magazine with wonderful pictures, but I hate to throw it away and it takes up a lot of room.
Smithsonian magazine. I stopped that one because my ex-wife insisted we get it, but, after getting me to spend the money, never read a single issue or article. Ever. It’s a nice enough magazine, sure, but the articles are so wordy and often not on subjects that interest me and, yet, I feel guilty when I don’t read it because the entire magazine is so damn educational.

Oh, and that cutie from Match? Hasn’t responded to the last e-mail I sent Saturday morning. And her profile seems to be missing now. Do you think it was something I said? 😉

You know, I should proofread these silly posts more closely.

I’ve mentioned on this blog before that I tend to queue up posts when I’m in a writerly mood so that I have them ready to go later. In fact, I have a bunch just sitting there, staring at me, waiting for me to be in the right mood to post them. This week, I turned two loose that had been in the queue for varying amounts of time. One was only there for a couple of days, but the other had been sitting there for close to six weeks. As a result, there were some things that hadn’t been clear to me when I wrote it that are clear to me now. Yes, I’m talking about where my relationship with LK stands. (We’re friends, now, incidentally. We finally both realized that, while we like the other person quite a lot, anything more intimate probably wouldn’t work well for either of us in the long-term. Sad, but true.) But, you see, earlier this week, I got an e-mail from a friend in a distant land who was concerned about me because I hadn’t been keeping up my regular posting schedule. So, without looking too carefully, I fired two queued posts into the blogosphere. Sadly, I hadn’t checked the second one closely enough and it was a slightly more “live round” than I’d intended. Whoops!

Oh, well, at least my loyal readers can learn from my mistake! 😉
Oh, and one more thing, before I forget… Some cute, local gal sent me a message on Match.com last night. Totally out of the blue, completely unexpected and totally cool. Just, you know, FYI, in case anyone was wondering.

Don’t forget to vote in the opinion poll in my sidebar!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"There is no substitute for hard work."
   --Thomas Edison

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

The EFF has put out a little HOWTO on HowTo Blog Anonymously. Now, this might not seem like a big deal, but if you’re blogging about work or some other sensitive topic, it can mean the difference between a paycheck or not, or, even doing jail-time, or not. The reason I’ve been thinking about it is that so many people know me and my blog. I have all sorts of friends and relatives who read my blog and, of course, potential employers read it, too. All of that means that I self-censor fairly heavily. Notice, for instance, how little I say about the poor, dear thing that I’ve been dating? No need for the crazy ex-wife, or her equally wacky new husband, to get all charged up about what a good or bad time I’m having with her. I mean, we all know how jealous she gets of anyone who might show any significant interest in me, though I really don’t know why she can’t seem to move on now that she’s re-married for the fourth, and hopefully final, time. Nor have I mentioned the roommate thing lately. He’s moved out, by the way, at my request. There were a number of reasons behind that, but, most importantly, I’m going back to Hoffman’s First Rule of Roommates: After college, never have a roomie with whom you’re not sleeping. Having someone else in the house just got on my nerves too much for my own good mental health, so, I shut down Hoffman’s Home for Wayward Boys for a bit. (Of course, I’ve been thinking of opening Hoffman’s Home for Unwed Mothers, but that’s a whole different post!)

Now, where was I? Oh, right, anonymous blogging. So, there are things that I’d love to rant about in a public or semi-public forum, but don’t want to associate with my Real Life persona. Things that I’d like to talk through via a blog that could be taken the wrong way by people who might read it. Not that I think most of my loyal readers care, but, still, you get the general idea, right? I haven’t gone so far as to start a hidden blog, yet, but it is something that I’ve thought about doing. And, if I ever do, I’ll use the EFF HowTo guide to do it!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Every calling is great when greatly pursued."
   --Oliver Wendell Holmes

So, after more several weeks of increasing tension and decreasing communication, LK (aka Ms. NewGal aka the Pie Lady) and I aren’t dating. Naturally, I blame myself. I know how I am and I am the first to admit that I am no picnic, no walk in the park. Maybe I just wasn’t quite ready. Maybe I just need some “alone time”. Hell, maybe I’m just meant to be alone the rest of my life. Just me and my Hilda. Well, maybe that’s a little extreme, but probably the best in the short run. Long enough to throw out more of my ex-wife’s junk at least. I’m sure that must have grated on poor LK even more than she let on. Hey, it grates on me that I have to deal with all the junk left behind by a couple of worse packrats than me. And, even that wouldn’t be bad if not for the fact that virtually everything was a reminder of how I failed there, too.Oh, I know it wasn’t all my fault. It takes two to tango and all those platitudes, but I always blame myself. After all, I’m the one thing that’s consistent between all my relationships. Sure, some of it was bad timing and a couple of rough weeks, but some of it was just the way we interacted. And, yes, maybe I am more angry than I realize. It’s not hard to point to sources of that anger, either. They’re all over my house. I know I’m sort of harping on it now, but it’s really hard for people who haven’t seen it to fathom the volume of junk I have to wade through. 95% of it, of course, is someone else’s junk, too. The detrius of an old life left behind like a snake shedding its skin. All for me to deal with. Alone.

And, there it is. That word. “Alone”. Again. And again and again. Or, perhaps, still. And, that, I know, is my fault. Never really letting anyone in because if I do, I know they won’t like what they see. As is partially born out by this particular personal tragedy. A sadly self-fullfilling prophecy. I guess the question for my therapist now is “why?” Why should I have internalized the belief that I’m not good enough when bottom-feeding scum who cheat on their spouses and have jobs only because their parents have connections feel so good about themselves? Certainly, until I answer that question, I’m not really ready to be out dating, am I?

Well, at least answering that question, in part or in whole, will give me time to clean my house the rest of the way and lose some weight and just generally improve myself.

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

No, not me or anyone I know.

Sorry, but most of the geeks I know either simply are not “hotties” or are men and, well, I just don’t see them that way. And, of course, with the way my negative weight-loss has been going, I’m far from that myself. Still, rumor has it that they’re out there. Certainly, it seems they’re in Australia. At least, if this article about a Hot Geek chick calendar on AustralianIT is to be believed. Certainly, the website for the calendar itself, IT Screen Goddesses, seems to be legit. At least, they’re selling calendars of beautiful women. But, what’s their “geek cred”? Do they run Linux? Are they programmers? That I cannot say from the article or website, but, well…

Okay, this just struck me as funny. I apologize in advance to any of my readers who might, possibly find this demeaning in any way. And, you have to give them credit, at least they’re highlighting beauty and brains, in a single package. Surely, it’s no surprise that such things can coexist to my female readers, but it might shock some of my more sheltered male readers.

So, now that I’ve ruined my chances with any hot chicks who read this blog, you might as well click on the links and get chuckle. It is Friday, after all.

Truer words were never spoken.
At the time, I found it amusing. Not that I’m a wreck, but that someone would notice and say it out loud. But, I have to admit, it was less and less amusing with every repitition.

It was a Tuesday night and Ms.NewGirl was over for the first time. It was an evening of apple pie and pizza and roommates and dogs. A test, of sorts, to see if she was up to me. My house is a disaster. I don’t say this lightly. It really is. Imagine, if you will, a house that was once mostly orderly and only slightly cluttered. Now, picture what happens when the sole occupant slides into a deep depression with little motivation to eat, much less clean. Add to that a steady stream of papers, legal and otherwise, junk mail, and magazine subscriptions. Getting a good picture? Great, now, factor in one guy trying to scrape the last remnants of a life he’d just as soon forget into one room so the movers can haul it all away, only to find out that those movers aren’t ever coming. But, wait, there’s more! Add to that a roommate and a dog. What do you have? Yeah, a wreck.

I know it was just her way of telling me to get that junk out of the house so she wasn’t faced with that part of my past everywhere she looked, but I can’t blame her for that. Hey, I’d rather not be faced with it, either! But, it’s there. Both the Augean-Stable-like clutter and the past. She may not have to face it, but I do. Every day. But, you know, who I am today is a result of who I was then. It’s not good or bad, really, but it is a fact. The man I strive to be is built on the wreckage of the mistakes I made, the poor choices and the bad behavior. Who I am today is not who I was because, today, I choose not to be that guy. And that choice is pretty important. I choose to be who I am. I make choices that have consequences and take me places. Hopefully, different places than I’ve been or would have gone in the past. So, there’s no point running or hiding from any of it. I just have to get started on the wreckage that sticks out where folks might trip over it.

So, that’s what I’ve been doing the past couple weeks. I’ve been working on it. I mean I’ve been really working on getting my house in order.

I highly reccomend checking yourself on Google.
Why? Because your next employer may be Googling you, that’s why. At least, according to this article on the New York Times, that’s what’s been happening.  I certainly know that I’ve been found on Google on more than one occasion.  Not only by employers, but also by potential dates and, well, obviously, dates.  This blog did, after all, start as a marketing scheme, a way to get the search engines to find me and catalog me.  It worked.  Very well, in fact, as this page has a Googlerank of Five out of Ten.  And, if you Google Linux Resume, I’m the second hit.  If you Google CNE Resume, I’m the first two hits.  If you Google Jim Hoffman, I’m the sixth hit.  So, I think about what I say here, and how I say it, because I know people might actually read it.  People I might care about and people who’s opinion matters to me or can effect my life.  And, I’m told that in the dating world, it’s more and more common to Google potential dates to see what mischief they’ve been up to on the web.  Obviously, one never knows what might turn up.

This is a special concern for bloggers, of course, who put themselves “out there” on a regular basis.  Do you want a potential employer reading that last rant?  Or about your after-hours antics?  Or about the slacking you do at work to post to your blog instead?  All things to think about.  So, what do you find when you Google yourself?  If you don’t know yet, maybe you should try it and see what turns up.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Being right means never having to say you're sorry."
   --Vernor Vinge

Probably not what it sounds like…

I’m too sensitive. I know this, not because I’ve been told by my mother and LK both, but because I can see how I react to things. I have a “rich interior life” that no one sees, thankfully, and I think way too much. Way, way, too much. As a result, I’m overly sensitive to a lot of really stupid things.

Case in point,Final Straw by Snow Patrol. Now, that might seem fairly safe. Some rather bland pop band not unlike many, many others. So why would I react so strongly to it? This led to a rather unpleasant “discussion” with LK and I. We’d been out and, as we pulled up, some song by Snow Patrol came on the radio. LK coos that it’s her favorite new song and turns the volume up. I asked who it was and she told me. Suddenly, I was nauseous. I sat for a moment and listened, but it got to me too much. Sadly, I apparently whispered my explanation to LK, who couldn’t hear me over the song. I sat for a few more seconds then I had to get out of the car. I felt the adrenaline sprint through me making me shake, but with rage or fear or just simple pain, I don’t know. She chased me, demanding to know what’s wrong and, finally, I choke out “That’s how I knew”.
“Knew what?” she asked me, bewildered.
“Knew that my ex-wife was cheating on me.”

You see, one night after being at one of the men’s support group meetings that I’d been attending, she and her daughter were playing that CD. It was obviously not new and I hadn’t seen it before. I asked her where it came from and she told me that a “friend” gave it to her. Now, in most situations, I suppose, a man might accept that answer, but, and I say this without any animosity or exaggeration, my wife didn’t really have any friends, by her own choice. Really. I am not lying or exaggerating or anything for effect or the sake of a good narrative. It was that precise moment that I knew, for sure, that she’d been cheating on me. There wasn’t any other explanation in my mind that could put that CD in her hand. Certainly not the lie that she told me.

But, all that aside, my point is that it shouldn’t bother me anymore. I should be past the fact that she did what she did. God knows, I was no angel either, though, I never cheated on her. Small comfort, considering. So, a couple of days ago, I made up my mind that I was going to get that CD and listen to it until those feelings burned their way clean.

I’ve been listening to that CD for two days now, letting it loop over and over and over. Funny thing is, though they’re not my favorite band, and I think their music is somewhat bland, overly “emo” and not all that original, they’ve started to grow on me.

Some time back, my therapist said something unnerving to me.

I’ve made a conscious effort to not hide things in my body language or close off any part of my thoughts or life to my therapist. So, when we were talking about what my “core issue” was, it surprised me that my therapist said I was so “well defended”. I don’t weigh what I say before I say it in his office. I just relax and go with whatever direction the session takes. Oddly, when he asked me what I thought my basic “problem” was, I shrugged and told him. It’s simple, really. I have a negative self-image. Nothing all that revolutionary or unique.
But, it turns out that was only partly what he meant. What he was really getting at was that the negative things, the things that hold me back personally and socially, are so integrated into my personality that they’re hard to pull out and apart. Also, because of that, I don’t take much personally any more. I mean, when the average stranger on the Internet says something nasty to me, I’m about as likely to simply agree with them as not. I imagine that must be frustrating for both them and my poor therapist. To have me just shrug and say, “Hmm, seems like you’ve got a point there” must be a little disconcerting. But, hey, like Dirty Harry says, “A man has got to know his limitations”. It’s like shadow boxing. I’m always fighting with myself.

The thing is, though, I see this and I see why it’s not a good thing. So, I’m trying. Trying to remake myself a bit at a time. Trying to become that person who I want women to find attractive. Or, perhaps more precisely, to be what I feel would be attractive to others. In short, I want to get healthier, but mentally and emotionally as well as physically. That’s what has motivated me to get running shoes and start shuffling up to a fast walk so I can maybe, one day, run and get into shape again. Yes, again. I used to be in very good shape. I used to work the heavy bag for 20 minutes, three times a week, and follow that up with five or ten minutes of shadow boxing with “Heavy Hands“. That in addition to push-ups and sit-ups every morning. I was in shape. And, I felt better about myself then than I do now. So, one thing I want to do is get back into shape.

And, I want to write more. No, I want to write and publish. Period. I want to be able to say that I’m a published author. I don’t need to win an award or anything, just get paid, a little, for my writing. I think I can get back to that place, too. Yes, back. Next to my desk, I have a framed letter from a publisher telling me that the editor/owner regrets returning my story, but that they’ve shut down. It wouldn’t have paid cash, but I would have been in print. I was that good, once. And, I will be that good again, eventually.

Now, I don’t think that I have to actually achieve all those goals before I’m attractive, but, I sure do have to be working hard at them to keep anyone’s interest. Isn’t that what so many of the ads on Match.com say? They want a goal oriented person. Someone who knows what they want. All that kind of thing. So, I’m setting goals and working toward them. And, to be honest, I think I do need to achieve at least some of them before I think I’m attractive.
I don’t know how long it will take, but, I hope, that some of these things will start to undo the knots that tie up the better part of me and slave that to the well defended, slightly defective, part. I hope that starting the work will start to break down the walls I’ve built over the last nine or more years. That the battlements might crumble down and that I can be more open, vulnerable and known to the people around me. I’m not promising anything, but, I am going to try.
We’ll see how it goes.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"It pays to be obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety."
   --Issac Asimov