Saturday, February 20, 2010

Working From Home

I forwarded the following ad from craigslist to a friend of mine who is considering a career move. It sounds like a great job, except that neither of us understood a single word of the job description besides the phrase "working from home", which she is more than happy to do:

From: john langford

Subject: i think you'd be perfect for this....

Date: Friday, February 19, 2010, 3:45 PM


WPF/XAML Designer (Downtown Austin)
We are looking for a WPF/XAML Designer (on contract basis) to implement Photoshop mockups of User Interface for WPF application. The user interface has been laid out using Telerik controls and the basic WPF controls. We have a graphics guy who has built screen shots of the entire user interface and now need a WPF guru to take the mockups and skin the existing controls and user interface. If you are interested, please have some sample work to show us (in WPF or Silverlight). We are flexible with you working from home or here at our downtown office. There is potential for a lot more work after this project if you turn out to be a great fit.


That last sentence should read "There is potential for a lot more work if you are one of the three people on the planet who can decipher this ad and who knows WTF WPF is."


Thursday, February 18, 2010

Bon Voyage


It was freezing cold, and I was standing high up on the windy deck of a passenger ship overlooking San Francisco harbor and the Golden Gate bridge. I was four years old, and along with my baby brother and my parents had left our home in New Orleans to cross the Pacific Ocean to begin a new life in the Far East.

The U.S.S. General W.P. Richardson was commissioned in 1944 as a navy transport ship, carrying troops to and from France, Italy, England and Morrocco. Subsequently converted to a luxury liner and renamed the S.S. Roosevelt, she carried a different kind of passenger.

During her colorful career, she was sold several times, and was called Atlantis, Sapphire Seas, Emerald Seas and Ocean Explorer I, like the names of lovers tattooed on a sailor's arms.

After exploring the the Mediterranean for many years, the old gal was finally scrapped in India in 1990, a seasoned world traveler with a lifetime of incredible adventures in exotic destinations.

For some reason, I thought we would be making the long voyage by paddle boat! I suppose this was because I had seen paddle boats on the Mississippi River near where we lived. Former riverboat captain-turned-writer Samuel Clemens took his pen name, Mark Twain, from the slang for "two fathoms", the depth of water needed for a steamboat to pass safely.

As I shivered in the cold wind, a grown-up handed me a tightly wound roll of crepe paper....a colorful streamer given to all passengers to throw to those on the pier below who had come to bid them farewell. I flung mine as far as a four year old could, watching it unfurl in slow motion as I grasped tightly to the end. Far below I saw a beautiful woman in a fur coat and a pill box hat catch the other end. For a long moment, we smiled at each other...a total stranger beaming up at me. I felt a mixture of excitement and shyness and confusion as she waved goodbye to me.

The three week crossing included typhoons, fine dining on crisp white tablecloths (which on days when the seas were rough were dampened so that the plates and glasses wouldn't crash to the floor), a screening of 101 Dalmations, and my first experience sleeping in a bunk bed.

Since then I've scuba dived with sharks in Tahiti, watched in amazement as a herd of elephants strode silently across the Serengeti, marveled at the majestic waterfalls in Brazil, run through the ruins of Florence before dawn, hiked through the jungles of Costa Rica as howler monkeys prowled overhead, gazed at the constellations from a thatched hut in Thailand, skied across snow covered rice paddies in Japan and plunged over white water rapids on a raging river in Honduras.

Many years have passed, but I still have the vivid memory of gazing into a stranger's kind eyes, joined to her by an umbilical cord of bright red paper, until it drew taut and tore apart, leaving her behind and launching me into a future that even Mark Twain could never have imagined.

Monday, February 8, 2010

The Emperor's New Clothes

This evening, after a long day of work, I stopped by Sarah's Mediterranean Grill, which is where I go when I'm really, really hungry. Nothing satisfies quite like a mountain of chicken shawerma with a side of hummus and pita, topped off with a piece of flaky baklava for dessert.

As I was finishing my meal, the owner, whose name is Maethem, joined me at my table. He's a charming guy with a winning smile and an easy going manner, and we struck up a conversation about this and that.

I asked him about his family back in Baghdad, and he told me about an incident he witnessed when he was 13 years old and working in his father's clothing business.

One day, as he and his father were returning to their shop, they happened to be passing by as the Crown Prince of Kuwait, who was visiting Iraq, stepped out of his limousine. His dutiful chauffeur closed the door behind him, accidentally slamming it on the sheik's robe, worth thousands of denarii.

As the sheik shouted at the driver, threatening to fire him for ruining his priceless garment, Maethem's father intervened, offering to repair the Prince's clothing at no charge if he promised not to terminate the unfortunate and humiliated chauffeur.

After much persuasion concerning his abilities as a tailor, Maethem's father escorted the Prince to his clothing shop and told him his robe would be ready in half an hour. With skilled hands, he deftly repaired the intricate needlework on the opulent garment and presented it to the Prince, who could not believe his eyes.

As promised, the humble tailor refused to accept payment for his handiwork. A true prince is not always recognized by the clothing he wears.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Third Eye Blind


Everyone has spotted a "tilaka" or "bindi"...a mark worn on the forehead by Hindu men and women. It marks the location of the sixth chakra, the seat of concealed wisdom, and symbolizes the Third Eye of introspection and spiritual enlightenment. It is also said to protect against demons or bad luck.

I now have one my very own tilaka as the result of slamming my car door against my forehead last night while talking on my cell phone with a customer service representative in....wait for it....India!

As a result of my self-inflicted injury, a couple of choice words sprang spontaneously from my mouth, one of which began with the word "God", and the other of which signifies the sacred union of two people. The customer service rep on the other end of the line did not find me enlightened in the least.

With any luck at all, my tilaka will form a permanent scar as a reminder to be conscious and aware...and what happens when I'm not.