It's you... Not Me

After realizing I'm making myself schizo, I'll no longer be posting to this site. I like the URL a lot, but not enough to keep dividing up what I write. Originally, back in the late 90's, I posted everything to stevenfettig.com, in one form or another. I don't remember when I tried to split off my personalities, but it was sometime after 2000. I think part of it was related to the idea that I could “hide” content from the main site where name recognition could get me in trouble if I said something wrong. The fact is, with any checking, you can find anything I've signed my name to on the web, so there's really no point in worrying about this unless I post truly anonymously. I don't do that, so in cases where I think I'll get myself in trouble, I simply keep my mouth shut.
I'll slowly begin importing all of the content from this site over to stevenfettig.com/mythoughts/. Until that is completely finished (and it may never be), I won't remove this site.
Bye.

I was talking to Ebi (my former German professor at Hillsdale College) during my visit last week and mentioned to him that I like to write and was hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would grow into something where I'd write and others would read. Perhaps some of them would even pay for it. It's a dream of all dreams because with what little writing I do, I know how difficult it is to not only hold someone's attention, but write a coherent story. It is easy to do the typical blog meandering that most writing exhibits these days, but it is difficult to come up with a story that flows and yet dips and bobs enough to keep the reader's interest. He made a statement that fell upon me with all the weight of a gigantic boulder, “you can't just write about your life, you have to be able to actually write a story... There's a difference.”
Think about that. I sometimes treat good writing as if it were a diary. Take WWdN: In Exile and dooce. I look forward to reading the latest postings because they almost always make me laugh. Both Wil and Heather talk about benign, some might say, boring, things. But, I hang on their words. Wil's description of his son mocking the death of a bottle of soda and Heather's writing about her daughter's blunt and inappropriate statements make me laugh. I can see the motions, I can hear the sounds, and I can fully imagine what is taking place when they describe a given event. I doubt everyone walks away from their writing with the same feeling, but I do, and that's the way I want to write. I want to write stories about life and the catch is this: I want to write them in such a way that others might be interested to continue reading...
Ebi's right. That's quite difficult.

Waiting for the plane to arrive is always the worst part about air travel these days. In the past few months, I've been on enough trips (or waited for enough people at airports) to know that no plane at a gate at least an hour before scheduled departure means a late departure. So, we'll see whether the current situation at E67 in Milwaukee will remain the same. Right now, the board says “Departs: 9:16AM” and it is 8:38am. The plane isn't at the gate. Why do they lie??? Why do they insist I'm an idiot???
Hopefully, I'll be proven wrong, but ... we'll see.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the trip. I have two new lenses for the D100 that I want to test. A few weeks back, I purchased a Nikkor 70-200mm f/2.8 IF-ED VR for taking action shots of Steph and Ode and things around the ranch. The lens is a monster, but the pictures from it have been fantastic. I've been disappointed with an older Nikkor 35-70mm AF lens I've had since purchasing the camera (I can't find a link to the model because it is a bit older and hasn't been in production for some years). I know picture quality is 90% the photographer and 10% the equipment, but I really have had a hard time getting more than 20% good shots using that lens. So, after reading rave reviews (despite its limitations), I picked up a Nikkor 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6G IF-ED VR lens from Amazon (right now, the link I used to purchase the lens is gone and they are only offering it through an Amazon storefront reseller - they seem to be a hot item) and am looking forward to testing. It is the first non-f/2.8 lens I have added to the collection. I tend to find myself taking a lot of limited or low-light pictures, so it'll take some getting used to - i.e. knowing how to tweak the D100's settings and properly placing myself and steadying the camera. I'll say one thing; the lens is lightweight and with the VR, my slight, coffee induced handshake should be helped a bit.
So, besides seeing one of my best friends get married to a fantastic girl (here's to a good weekend, Matt & Stefanie), I get to possibly learn some things about photography that I usually don't have time for. If the flight ever leaves...

Technorati Tags: delays, photography, nikon, travel

It's not so much that I can't keep my mouth shut. If I hold onto the seat of my chair and bite down, I can. But, when I hear something that patently ignores how good life is, my jaw loosens and the torrent of thoughts escape. Life's pretty damn good and I like insisting on it. My own physical strength can't seem to overcome the need to say so. (Even if, I admit, it should.)
I'll try a new technique, though. Maybe by opening my eyes wider, my mouth will stay shut-er. The eyes are a window to your soul, after all, and perhaps the torrent can flow from them instead.

Technorati Tags: marriage, thoughts, relationships

Usually, when the concept of good comes up in my mind, I immediately gravitate towards my first encounter with Plato's Good in the Parmenides. At times, I think about how difficult and convoluted our discussion of good becomes when we are attempting to be philosophical. Everyone knows what good is... and dammit! There's no need for philosophy spending time just to confuse people as to what they know they mean when they describe something as being 'good.' Right?
Now I'm not so sure (at least, tonight I'm not).
I was lamenting to my dad the other day how so many people take their lives and make such obvious mistakes, only to later complain that they haven't gotten any further today than they were yesterday (or yesteryear). The mistakes are obvious to me and obvious to others, but not obvious to the person who is making them.
It seems that the same thing happens with the good things in life. You live a good life, you are surrounded by good things, and nothing is standing in your way of continuing to experience good things; except you don't see it that way.
Things are bad. Things suck. Things haven't gone the way you planned.
And that seems to be the crux; things haven't gone the way you planned. Does that mean they've necessarily gone poorly and are thus, devoid of the good? To me, no. To you, yes. Amazing.
I find people's insistence on things going their way being the path to good frustrating. Not to say my life is perfect and I'm not misguided from time to time, but I'll speak anecdotally.
I have been working as a manager (of different sorts) for over eight years. That means that not only am I responsible for the tasks assigned to me, but also for making sure those who work for me are also fulfilling theirs. In other words, it is not only that my day runs smoothly that I need to think about, but also that those who depend on me for guidance are guided towards the path to successfully achieving their duties. Rare is a day that I walk into the office in the morning and walk out in the evening with more than one item on my never ending to-do list finished. I only can guess what will actually happen to me during the course the ten hours I find myself at work. Inevitably, something comes up that needs immediate attention. It is always something that I didn't plan for and will take more than a few short moments to handle. By the time two or three of those somethings happen, I find the clock nearing 3 or 4 in the afternoon, with little time left to get into anything significant. So, by the time I leave, if I have accomplished one thing on the list, I am lucky.
Nothing happens as planned and as long as I didn't cause any more catastrophes to happen, I feel like the day went well. I'm usually exhausted, but I can leave the office knowing that all is good and we'll start tomorrow hoping for a bit more success and, perhaps, less interruption. They never do.
Things rarely go as planned. Yet, I consider most of my days to have been good ones.
I understand why philosophy wants treatises on the good. We want a roadmap to defining whether or not the things you encounter and the life you are living is good. We want to know when to smile. (O-o kaaayyy... 3, 2, 1... SMILE!)
Unfortunately, good seems to be so very dependent upon your ability to see it. If you don't want to accept that you've got it good, then there's no use in reading the treatise because you'll think the author is talking about something other than what you know and experience.
Every language of which I have a coarse understanding has a translation for seeing the world through rose colored glasses (or lenses). It appears to me that noticing the good is subject to the very same thing. Some see the good and some don't - whether or not they're wearing glasses - of any tint.
My heart goes out to those that don't... because they won't... and not because it doesn't exist.

Technorati Tags: good, life

In sitting in our office at home, taking time to continue reading The Fabric of Reality (by David Deutsch), it occurs to me (so often, when I have the time and chance to expand my horizons through reading) how absolutely and utterly lucky I am to have not only grown up in a free society, but also the family I was born into. Now that's what I call a pregnant sentence.
Seriously. Do you ever sit back and think about how lucky you are? I'm guessing that if you're reading this, you have an abundance of free time on your hands (otherwise, I'd have to ask... what prompted you to read this?) and are lucky enough to have access to the internet. Those to items in it of themselves are cause for the happy realization that you have it pretty good. They say a lot about your [likely] situation and what an amazing time we live in.
Two hundred years ago, even if I had some amount of wealth and spare time, I wouldn't have had the access to the sheer abundance of information I do today. Between the thousands, if not millions, of newspapers I can access in the palm of my hands (ahem... PDA phones/iPhone) and cheap access to free thought (ahem... amazon.com), I am far closer and more intimately involved with knowledge than I could have been then.
I'm not a gambling man, but that's what I call luck of the draw.

Technorati Tags: internet, life, prosperity, knowledge, technology

Being a bachelor for these few days/half month has been a learning experience. In all honesty, I was looking forward to it, not because Steph gets on my nerves (noooo.... that would neeever happen), but because I knew that I had a lot of work to crunch through this month and it would be better that she had some friends to spend time with than see me leave early and come home late day after day. I think for me, the hardest part about being married is the time commitment. I inherited the 'work compulsively until you fall apart' gene from my father. (Mom, I'm not saying you had nothing to do with this, but we all know that dad is the work'a'holic and you always did what you could to soften the effects of that. Oh... by the way. You did a great job!) So, Steph going home for a couple weeks was going to be an adventure. Little did I know what kind of adventure.
The first thing that happens when you become a bachelor and have been used to the sweet care that only your best friend and wife could provide you with is suddenly gone, is if you get sick, you won't get over it in near record time you normally would. After my little sister's wedding on the 11th, I've been dead sick. The first days were my own doing. Since then, however, it... well, dammit. It is still my own doing. Without Steph nagging me to take care of myself, let alone eat properly, I'm going to bed late, not sleeping when I do, getting up early and generally eating nothing but canned food. So much for my culinary skillz I claim to have. I sit here, in the 8th day of being sick and wonder if my cough is ever going to go away.
The second thing that happens is that you suddenly realize how much work three dogs are to maintain and keep happy. (I'm at a loss as to how to possibly keep Pete from being happy without his bunkmate. He still looks at me with depressing eyes when I get out of Steph's car and she doesn't.) Kyra is a HAPPY dog. I really mean that. She is HAPPY all the time. So HAPPY that she can't sit still, can't stop wagging her tail, can't believe all the people around (landscaping around the house is being worked upon), can't believe she is about to eat, can't believe Piri has her bone, can't believe Pete can sit up on the chair with me. And the list goes on. Piri is so laid back that, well, frankly, she reminds me of a friend I had in grade and high school who turned to pot in college to heighten his senses and relax (I don't know if it did either, but it was funny to see him after a night of getting high). He was a twittery, nervous type fellow who enjoyed picking his nose and chewing on his nails. He was like a brother and we simply lost contact after college as both our lives diverged in different directions. Well, Piri is laid back, but very nervous at the same time. She's currently scared to death of boxes. The amusement brings tears to my eyes when I think of it. A rottweiler. Scared of boxes. Köstlich. If she were partially human, she'd pick her nose and chew on her nails; I'm sure of it. So, we have depressed Pete, HAPPY Kyra and ganja Piri.
For Kyra, the day starts at 4:30 am. I have no idea why and when this started, but something always gets her out of bed and makes her happy to be alive. At 4:30 am. Tail thumping and wagging around. At 4:30 am. If I weren't such a cranky bastard at 4:30 in the morning, I'd love her all the more for it. But, being a cranky bastard and bachelor has made mornings somewhat of a difficulty, especially when I couldn't sleep the evening before because I was still sick. And now I'm up. At 4:30 am.
Besides me being completely unable to care for myself alone, this is the type of stuff that Steph always deals with. Although mornings for her are no more happy than mine are, she takes pride in our dogs and doesn't necessarily mind Kyra waking up and dancing around our room. She has a way with the three and is somehow able to keep HAPPY Kyra from running over depressed Pete and make sure ganja Piri gets a few moments of praise on her own.
At this point in time, being a bachelor has not turned out to what it was supposed to be. I knew I'd miss Steph, but I didn't think of the multitude of reasons as to why. It seems that, as with most good things, you never realize how good they really are until you no longer have them. Besides my best friend simply not being there, it is ridiculously difficult to handle the things I don't think twice about when she is around. Bachelorhood is for the birds and I can't wait to have her back.

Technorati Tags: french+bulldog, mornings, bachelor, puppy, rottie

...How to Become Less Effective (at Everything)...
How's that for a snazzy title?

So Steph+Steve (i.e. Steph and I) just turned seven today. When I was trying to come up with a title for this entry (which I plan on keeping short anyway), I wanted something witty... and short. So, I wrote it out, Happy 7th and realized how much anniversaries are like birthdays for children. The older you get, for most of us, the less relevant the birthdays become. No, I don't mean to ignore the uniqueness of a long marriage and long life (more of the former), but once the major milestones are down (like the age at which you can drive, vote, drink, etc.), you realize that it is less about that particular day and more about how you spend the year that is commemorated on that day.
So, in effect, Steph+Steve is very young and very immature. Yet, like any seven year old, we have come a long way and I'm a better person because she's here for me.
The only glitch we had today was a pestering case of self-induced nausea from trying to relive my early twenties at my [little] sister's wedding yesterday. What a day... and after today, what a weekend!

I just picked up Dan Brown's Angels and Demons off MobiPocket and started reading the text of Langdon's voice; and in my mind, as I was redrawing the images of the second opening scene, I saw the face of Tom Hanks. thank God he really did fit the part (in my opinion) - otherwise this might be upsetting.