I’m not lying to anyone anymore - there’s similarities between a prison and day job. Granted, I’ve only been in a jail cell and only for a day and a half, so I truly don’t know prison as some of my friends have experienced it. But the privilege of others was forefront on my mind this week.

So a bit about my work, effectively I’m a process and web architect working through the impacts of perceived improvements. And I work for a large multiple leader group and they sometimes are infected with groupthink. This week, this entire week was one long infection of groupthink after groupthink “great ideas.”

From improving the speed of the website, to let’s just call the backend through SQL, I felt it was the same conversations I’ve had for years. We’re not going to improve the speed of the website without adding extra processing of orders - the trade for automation (a one-time cost of development) is eyeballs (an ongoing cost for manual work). And, if someone is buying a large order, say 40 line items on it, it’s going to take some time to process that order correctly to save it.

In short, there’s a method to giving clients good feedback of order creation when you have a system that takes a long time: it’s called GRAPHICS. It’s the appearance the order is being created that is the most important. Appearance. I am telling my company to LIE to their CLIENT. And yet…

So, one part of privelege is the ability to participate in groupthink without punitive measures… much like everyone going along with the emperor has no clothes.

But, as I was talking technical stuff with co-workers, slightly bent down to point at some data on his screen, one leader (way above a manager position) came up behind me and put both of his hands on my shoulders. It was a friendly, man-on-man gesture of appreciation… I’m sure… but the privilege was there. I could never feel good about doing that to him… nor would he.

And this was when I thought… there’s a LOT of similarities between prison and where I work.

All my life, my mother has wanted to weave rugs - big, fancy rugs that people hang on walls. She’s not exactly been successful at doing it. For a woman who has managed to raise two children by herself, had a profitable career, and a trove of friends who she loves and loves her back, she’s only attended a few classes. All my life, she’s placed obstacles in front of her to prevent her from doing things. Slowly, she’s learning how to get around these obstacles. I’ve learned from her example, and I hope to have returned the favor.

It’s odd, these obstacles, it’s like navigating around your self, your mind, your structure of the world.

For my own dreams, I’ve finally removed one of those obstacles from my path that I’ve been worrying over. These have been the type of worries that wakes one in the night in bone-chilling panics. The price of doing business has cost me a lot - money, career, friends - most importantly friends, and faith in myself. I’m leery of paying that price even though I know there’s more coming in the future. Well, after finding the right legal council, I’ve finally done it.

On Tuesday, at 2:45 I signed documents officially creating Heresy Research Labs, llc. It’s mission is to create entertaining copyrightable materials for licensing and publishing. I like that mission: I’m here to create fun, of all interests, and with a name like Heresy, I’m hoping to break a few rules.

I’ve got heroes - well, minds that I admire - all of whom have said, “I’ve shown you, now you show me what you can do.” I am so tired of having reams of written material that goes unpublished, unseen and un-commented on. There’s only one way I’m going to improve and that way requires me to my material in front of others.

My first project will be Arcanopocrypha, a collection of short stories I’ve written for a graphic novels format, with a single overall arc. I’ve discovered a wonderful artist which I’m hoping to expand my business relationship.

I love twisting the minds of those who will listen, and I really want to play rough. Stay tooned, I’m going in!

So, a certain internet company sold me some books - namely Singularity is Near (Kurzweil) and Crooked Little Vein (Warren Ellis). And then they shipped them twice. When I sent an email to them (because, being an internet company, I can’t CALL them) they responded with, “No, that’s not an error.”

So I responded with, “So, you’re not going to charge me twice, right?” A day passes.

“No, it’s not an error, Sir.” A day passes.

I know, deep in my heart, I KNOW that if I give these books away I’m going to receive a bill. How much you wanna bet?

About friggin’ time I finish this off.

OK, I lost SOME comments, but may be able to move them over. Please step up and register an account. It’s there because I want to prevent the link spam.  Expect some tweaking soon, specifically in the comments section - I’ll be adding a CAPTCHA image and Digg/Slashdot/Technorati linkage for improving my traffic.

Plus old-fashioned business cards.  With the new loglow of twisty neuron thingies.

I hate it when you have to drop a functional peice of code for the hope of better code. I like keeping what works. The problem I’ve discovered is that Nucleus doesn’t work without a LOT of elbow grease, and frankly, I want to spend my time coding a game rather than a blog.

So, I’m moving to Wordpress. My friend over at Unscriptured.com (not ready yet, but soon) is working with Wordpress so it will be good to compare notes.

So, later this week: Heresy.com will be down and then come back up, prolly look exactly the same, just on Wordpress. Pretty sad, huh?

Four days in a row. Four of them. First I ruin my friends’ plans by getting sick and then I miss some work. All in all, I’m sick of sickness. I’ve been sick too many times this year, and due to recent sickness, missed a doctor’s appointment.

When I’m sick, I barricade myself with my DVDs and read books that I’ve . The problem is that I’ve seen all my DVDs, so I turn to the internet - which doesn’t download TV shows fast enough. I don’t download movies for the same reason I don’t download games: someone should get paid for their work.

I hate being sick.

And whining… so I’m going back to my drugs and will stop whining.

Recently, I’ve had to go to the Doctor.

Every doctor I’ve been to before has actually sat down, talked with me, gotten to know me and, at least, APPEARED TO CARE.

In the office, the staff has appeared to care. The Doctor, I’ve never seen. The Physician’s Assistant, who I have seen, has been downright… well, here’s a quote, “I’ve an appointment at (time) so I can’t take all day with you.” - Note that I wasn’t even 15 minutes into the discussion.

So, the first time I went (for my physical), I felt that they were rushed and busy. The second time, I was an inconvenience. And, because I wonder, I’ve been going over both meetings and wondering, what did *I* do wrong.

Well, FUCK THEM. I’m the patient and I’d like them to take some time to answer my questions and explain to me.

“Last words before I can spark it?”

“Do I *LOOK* mortal to you?”

OK, it’s not for EVERYONE. But this is the type of silliness that network TV desparately needs.

And SciFi channel is trying get our feedback on it. So, go! Go! GO! Watch the video, chuckle at the craziness. And don’t think too much about the zombie dog and Abe Lincoln… it’s a little weird.

Amazing Screw On Head… brought to you by SciFi.

For those that don’t know, I recently purchased a nice truck. I love my truck. 2003 Nissan Frontier, bright blue.

And I was rear-ended yesterday. Yep. So, on the freeway during the freeway high time. I’m slowing down because why? Hey, the cars in front of me WE’REN’T moving! Why didn’t she? Could it be because she’s a stupid 16 year old, not paying for her new car, and talking on her cell phone? I remember her tiny mouth turning into the shape of an “O” in my rear view mirror and her cell phone dropping from her ear.

When we pull over, she runs to my door, white dress, blonde hair. “I’m sorry. I barely hit you… ” the litany of excuses start… and I see the fear on her unblemished face. Decent looking young woman. “Let’s exchange driver’s license, registration and insurance…”

The litany stops.

“Do we have to?” Her eyes roll up to mine, the doubt coming to a head.

“You don’t have insurance?”

“Oh, yeah,” seemingly relieved.

“You don’t have a license?”

“No, but…” another litany of excuses begins.

She heaves in an obvious and amateur way that I know she’ll perfect in about 5 years, pouts a bit as only someone who thinks manipulation is a good model of communication, and moves her chest in some way that makes me notice. Looking up with her blue eyes, she asks, “Is there any way I can talk you out of calling the cops?”

I smiled inwardly. Somewhere in the background of my mind, I heard a shikka-shikka-bowwaaam of a base guitar riff. The Porn… it writes itself.

–

No, I did NOT take advantage of young stupid girl. Yes, I and my truck is fine. No, I did NOT call the cops tho every fiber in my being told me I should have.