Details

Nothing gets me more than thinking people. And I should add that those who have to pay attention to the smallest of details truly blow my mind on a regular basis.

Through work, I received a BlackBerry device. This little gadget has several functions--e-mail, internet, phone--and it has become my newest and most beloved appendage. A co-worker gave me the grand idea of nicknaming it the CrackBerry rather than BlackBerry, which is most fitting. In any case, I recently upgraded from the 7000 to the 8000 series. It was my Christmas gift to myself. Merry Christmas to me. Little did I know that this move would be blogworthy.

It's not so much that the actual change is blogworthy. It's more a feature on the new BlackBerry that is blogworthy. As you can see on the picture, there are icons on the homescreen. They cover everything from e-mail to tasks to settings. My two favorite, though, are for the alarm and the calendar. When you scroll over these two, they display a magic that is only second to that of Harry Potter. The calendar page lifts, showing a different day when you're on it, and the alarm time displayed on the icon actually changes from "7:14" to "7:15." I don't know if this is as amazing to you as it was to me, but it made me think long and hard about whose job it is to come up with such ideas. Who was sitting where when they thought, "Hey! The calendar icon should switch from 1 to 2 when you scroll over it and the alarm clock should change time--and that time should be 7:14 and 7:15." Ahh the depths and abilities of the human mind.

Is Knowledge Really Power?

I happened to pick up a copy of The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs on my last trip to the library. Ironically, Jacobs struck a nerve for me, which he surely didn't mean to do, but the entire reading choice lapsed into eternal irony as a result. The premise for his book is that after he finished his college years, he began to feel himself dumbing down in a way. He felt like he had gone from learning and expanding his cache of knowledge to a static state on the couch, absorbing the images flashing before him on TiVo. So, he ventures to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica to cure his bout of intellectual ague.

Well, I picked up Jacobs' book knowing only that it was the narrative of a man who had read the EB, hoping that this meant I could absorb all of his knowledge in a Cliffs Notes version of the intimidating volumes of knowledge. So, as I continue to drift through the chapters (all 26--each representing a letter of the alphabet), I'm seeing that this book has really benefitted me on several levels:

1. I'm not alone. I've realized that virtually all college-educated individuals go through the shock of feeling dumb after years of intellectual stimulation and usually follow that up with some stint of overcompensation.

2. Learning can be fun...and completely self-motivated. I was convinced that school was required to force one to continue progressing forward on the learning curve. This book has proven me wrong.

3. Books can make you laugh. I've laughed out loud more times that I care to admit in reading Jacobs' book. Just ask my downstairs neighbor.

4. Knowledge is nothing on its own. One of Jacobs' lessons and one that's hitting home for me as I move through the book is that simply taking in facts means absolutely nothing. Instead, the association of knowledge and the world at large is what brings wisdom to life.

5. Encyclopedias are eternally old. The information recorded in each edition of encyclopedias is outdated literally at publication. The times are what define the information and set the context. So, why aren't encyclopedias in the history section rather than reference?

Welcome Back, Blogger!

In gearing up for the New Year, along with all of the crazy resolution talk that accompanies it, my dusty old Tribute to Life came first to mind. I have undoubtedly missed the familiar white screen with its snazzy blue, white and orange banner at the top. But, the adjustment to full-time work and disillusionment with the non-academic life came as a shock, sending me into a brief yet all-encompassing stalemate. The past couple of months are a blurred mix of waking up, going to work, talking to way too many people on the phone, coming home exhausted, skipping dinner for a few extra minutes of pure couch time and bedtime. Sound boring? Well, it was! Interspersed in there was a trip to Seattle, which was very cool, but not nearly enough to compensate for the incredible drop in life excitement.

I am happy to report, however, that I have fully recovered and plan to get everything back on track (or to join my track in the case of new and great things). Probably the largest lesson learned is that transitions are definitely not about shedding the old and jumping into the new. It's about retaining much of the old and finding ways to incorporate the new. I got this all wrong. But, as my boss has told me many times, we unfortunately learn and retain the most in times of mistakes and lessons learned from those mistakes. Since I'm all about this human train of martyrdom, I guess I not only believe him but have experienced first hand how this works.

There will be plenty of blogs to catch up on all of that...but, I would like this blog to commemorate the incredible joy that comes from having kids around Christmas. This is not my secret blog code for "I want kids and now feel my biological clock ticking," it's merely a realization I fully experienced last night and today. My niece is 4 now while my nephew is 18 months. The two of them together, opening gifts and tinkering with all of their new toys, was nothing short of fulfilling. Their pure looks of happiness and excitement was all it took to complete my holiday. The gifts I received were great, but nothing held quite the impact of their displays. Probably my two favorite parts were when Sydni got tired of waiting for my brother and I to finish our X-Box game of Madden 2003, plopping down on my lap, blocking my view and refusing to move until I handed the controller over to her. It was similar to the moment she came to me last night during the adult gift exchange and wanted so badly to open my gifts. Thinking back to how much I was exactly like her as a kid, I handed them over. Not only did I get the joy of watching her...I got the gifts in the end!

Favorite moment number two was definitely Seth wanting to be shown how to play with some of his toys. He would patiently hand them over, looking at me, without any words, and just watched as I demonstrated. He would then calmly take back over like a pro. He also is the type that loves playing but loves staying close. So, as his play partners would move about, he would get up, move closer to them, and plop down next to their feet, legs or whatever was closest and resume his focused play. Fantastic to watch, I tell you.

This concludes the Christmas rambling. The title, by the way, is stolen from the late great "Welcome Back, Kodder!" which I saw for the very first time over this holiday weekend. What can I say? The greatest Christmas gifts don't come in packages at all. They're improvised moments--untouched by human modification.