11/17/99

"Je me presee de rire de tout, de peur d'être obligé d'en pleurer."

"I quickly laugh at everything, for fear of having to cry."

Pierre de Beaumarchais, "Le Barbier de Séville"

work of a dreamer

I am supposed to have a vision in my new job. Go figure. It's more like having hallucinations. Not that my old job didn't have a certain element of this, a certain aspect of dreaming up what the customer wanted. But in a much more narrow area, it was more often clear what my team could tackle in fixing problems and adding features to answer issues and sell products. And, outside that, you'd lift your head, look a customer or two in the eye, assimilate a few corporate and industry changes and then back to design and coding. This is different. It doesn't feel like working. It feels much harder.

Yeah, so I worked. I attended one meeting. Research results. Can we really make something out of this that makes money? Refocus it, they decide. Good meeting, though. Not much I can actually say about work in public. Everything is a secret is a good thing to remember.

I fooled around with my computer, answering e-mail and looking at free clip art and such. Forrest came home from his ballet marketing meeting. We went to Fonda San Miguel to eat. So crowded that we ate in the bar. But at that nice table next to the cash register so everyone waited on us along the way. Tom ate his meal with us. Roberto sat a while. Kelty chided Forrest to listen to some Peruvian music on a CD she had lent him. I had two margaritas. On a 'school' night. That finished me.