The Sensitive Child

Sometimes my son's sensitivity blows me away. Maybe it's because he's so much a "boy" - rambunctious, laughing, climbing, all of that stuff. And he does all of that well. He's into superheroes at 3 like nobody's business.

Then again, he recently balanced that out with a touchingly sweet (and amusing) observation about himself: "Daddy, I want to be a girl". "Why do you want to be a girl, Zach? You're a boy, and a wonderful one at that". "But I really, really LIKE girls!"

Zach has the ability to straddle both sides of a personality, in a way that I really admire, and wish I could be more like. He's so emotionally open, and emotionally giving, that it's a constant inspiration to me. I'll confess that I don't know kids very well, in general (though I know my son through and through). But he often says and does the most amazing things, in terms of being "present", and being concerned about people and their feelings.

Today he had a playdate with his friend Vir, who is moving to India in three days, out of Zach's life forever (though Zach doesn't fully grasp that). They're playing together, and Zach stops and asks, "Vir, are you having a good time at my house, Vir?". Vir says he is. Zach thinks for a minute and he says, "Vir, I'm really going to miss you, Vir". Vir just smiled his big, infectious smile, but didn't respond; he's a bit younger than Zach, so he may not be mature enough to respond in kind to that.

It just blew me away though, just how much Zach wants to connect with people. He's constantly reaching out to people, often in ways that are socially uncomfortable. He'll tell a total stranger to watch what he's doing, or tell them about his new Spiderman shoes. Yeah, kids do that kind of stuff, but Zach has this way of trying to include everyone, and be a part of everyone's lives, that's just heartbreakingly beautiful and tender.

It's part of what makes the marital separation all the more painful, because it flies in the face of Zach's very most basic character traits: inclusiveness, connection, openness, and love.

That kid has so much love. I pray he never loses that, and it terrifies me that he might.

Wolfgang moment on Friday. I'm involved in a new initiative at work where we are, essentially, creating an entire new business vertical - a new way to diversify our revenue streams for the company. A couple of months back, we were tasked with a very narrow sliver of such a venture, and we knocked it out, only to learn (perhaps predictably) just how hard this was going to be, and how challenging a vertical it would be to make money in the rather beautifully simple way our parent company makes boatloads of cash.

So a small group of us, including our very inspiring - but challenging - VP did a dramatic thing by tasking us to stop thinking about making money (initially we were told to think exclusively about making money), and to envision a product that's going to matter, to last. This is easier said than done, because it's a fairly competitive, saturated market already. But we spent a day hanging out in a park, diagramming ideas, getting inspired. But the next step was a mystery... which I cracked.

After a lot of research and pondering, I put together a Powerpoint presentation of data - and how to use that data - for the group, and essentially laid out a vision of where the product could go, and what it could be. And, for all intents and purposes, knocked it out of the park. The VP was inspired (just like he's inspired me), and most rallied behind the idea, even though it's not 100% there yet - it's the next big, bold step.

That felt pretty great.

Kids Can Be Salieri Too

So I titled my blog after that feeling you can have where you've got it all together, you've got it figured out... and just as fast you can feel awash in the crowd, lost despite it all... the Patron Saint of Mediocrity.

And while Zach is my Mozart, even he has his Salieri moments.

Yesterday was his first soccer practice. 3 1/2 - 5 year old class. Well, Zach's just 3 1/2, and he's never going to be a big kid, so he's probably sized closer to 3. He's also wicked athletic, and he did a good job learning the soccer drills, started trapping the ball on sporadic occasion, etc. Though admittedly he grew restless at times. C'mon... he's three.

But when it came time for a "game", it was another story. The coach picked the two oldest kids to play with, against 12 other kids, and Zach's age and speed was exposed. Coach rolled the ball onto the field, and Zach was the first one to it. And he tapped it, and before he could tap it again, the inevitable swarm of 4 year olds descended, taking the ball like a pack of bees and running in random directions, the ball careening ahead of them. Well, Zach didn't understand the whole notion that you're supposed to take the ball away, and none of the kids could grasp the concept that you're not supposed to take it away from your own teammate, but there you have it.

Zach had a meltdown, sobbing and crying that "I can't get the ball" and "They took it from me". It was so sweet and heartbreaking, because he both didn't understand that basic concept of futball, but that it was also painfully true that he wasn't going to be able to get the ball back - the other kids were too much bigger and faster. Most of the kids averaged between 4-4 1/2 I'd say, and that's a huge divide. Just like Zach's 2 1/2 year old friend Spencer can't physically keep up with Zach, Zach couldn't match their size and speed. He really felt like Salieri.

Coach and I agreed that Zach should move down to the smaller kids class, where he'll be on the flip side of that age divide. Maybe then he'll be the one with the ball... maybe he'll feel like a Mozart.

Nobody Knows Me Like My iTunes

Do you ever get the feeling that you're in sync with your iPod, or your iTunes. Or, more frighteningly, it's in sync with you?

My iTunes holds a lot of music. My entire collection, in fact, and... I like collecting music. If you started my iTunes and let it run uninterrupted, it would currently play for 27 straight days.

I'm feeling a little blue today, a little lonely, and have been puttering about, doing home chores. Yet, every song seems to strangely know exactly how I'm feeling. It's a greatest hits of melancholy, a constantly unfolding flashback of the depressing, sappy music I would've listened to in my teens and twenties when I felt the world was against me. A little "Nothing Compares 2 U", a little "What's Gonna Happen to Us?" (a great Daryl Hall song, incidentally), some well-wrought songs about picking yourself up by the bootstraps by a great Irish band called the Devlins...

I mean, I have 9000 songs... how can iTunes know to play every song that I'd actually pick out for myself if I was playing DJ and wanted to enhance that feeling of emptiness and loss? How creepy is that? Where's the "Shiny Happy People" or some Rolling Stones?

Jesus, it just started "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" by U2.

Stop stalking me, Mr. iTunes. Please.

Where Does It Go?

The developmental stages of a child are just mind-blowing. Every time period brings something new and exciting, and it just keeps getting better, blah, blah, blah. All truisms, all cliches, yes.

But there's this subtle difference between seeing your kid do something you've never seen them do before - climb a tree, slide down a pole, open a jar, whatever - and one of those moments where you see in 1080p HD how it's not just these physical and intellectual changes, but these titanic shifts that reveal an internal life and imagination that's just stunning.

I was picking Zach up from day care (he starts pre-school in 2 weeks - such a big boy!), and when I pulled across the street, I saw him in the play area, marshalling his two friends, Ella and Vir. He was explaining that Spiderman has a "worst enemy". Mighta been Sandman, mighta been Electro, I don't know. But he was so passionate about it. It mattered so much, and he explained a game that they absolutely HAD to play involving Spiderman and his worst enemies. And his friends were riveted, really listening, and really envisioning it too. Then they ran around in circles, yelling "escape!" over and over and over.

So it's clear that the shift from active play, to imagination, to truly creating other worlds is taking place right now. In fact, it's all he's interested in at the moment - fantastical creatures and other worlds - that it's apparent that his mind isn't just growing and developing... it's expanding.

How remarkable is that? Doesn't it feel like there's a natural inflection point in our own lives, where our imaginations stop expanding? Like our brains just have to focus on the existing, the coping, the succeeding, the loving, the working? What about seeing other worlds? Zach sees other worlds in his mind right now, and I don't think he really did 6 months ago. Sure, he did a lot of amazing stuff, but it was somehow more contained, more linear.

To watch that is utterly captivating and inspiring. I sat in my car, watching from 30 feet away, the moment only ruined by Vir spotting me and saying, "Zach, your daddy's here". Zach looked my way, lit up, and yelled "Dan!".

Sometimes you feel like a Wolfgang...

Sometimes you don't. Lately, I haven't felt like a Mozart very often.

But yesterday I felt like something even better - a rock star. I work at a company of about 350 people, and though I've moved up the ladder fairly swiftly, and seem to have the respect of my peers, and am well-liked, I sometimes wonder if I really... noticed. There are a lot of people around me who are true rock stars - the kinds of people who run companies, are on top of their game 100% of the time, shoot up the ladder at a speed that'll blind you, etc. I sometimes feel like I'm 90% of that, but that something truly special's not there.

Then again, maybe I underestimate myself at times.

We have quarterly company meetings, where a small set of awards are given out to people who have distinguished themselves from amongst the crowd, and it's based on feedback from your peers, etc. It's called the Golden Cart (we're a comparison shopping engine... you might have heard of us). Because of how my role is structured, much of my work involving outside vendors rather than internal people, I never thought I'd be in contention for one of those. But I got one.

And it felt pretty damn good. It didn't hurt that it came with a cash bonus, too.

So for that particular day, I felt like a Mozart.

What's a Mozart Moment?

This.

Salieri Meets Wolfgang?!?

What the hell does that mean?

Well, many who know me know that Milos Forman's AMADEUS is my favorite film. It came out when I was about 11, and that doesn't make any rational sense why I'd like it. Wasn't I into STAR WARS and Legos at that point? Well, yes... But when I started getting into film in high school, I discovered this sumptuous, musically-astonishing period piece that was filled with life, and energy and also moral complexity. It also featured two of the best - and most underrated performances in film history. I'm not even a costume picture kind of guy, but AMADEUS seemed to defy any of those expectations and cliches, whether it's Mozart's insanely inappropriate laughter, or the sight of a modestly talented composer throwing a crucifix into a fireplace, engaging in a never-ending fight, not with the genius who torments him, but the god who created him.

That feeling of being inconsequential, of being caught up by forces outside your control, of not being good enough, knowing that the world isn't a level playing field... those were striking themes to a teenager. Even if you felt smart, competent, liked... there's always somewhere you don't stack up - whether or not that's in your own mind or someone else's is up for debate. Is everyone else walking around, worried that they don't stack up too?

These are powerful messages to a 16 year old, and frankly, they're no less powerful the older you get. The problems change, the circumstances evolve, the people are switched out, but it's all still the same stuff in the end.

And this is what makes Salieri one of the ultimate anti-heroes, and by extension, one of the heroes. All at the same time. He can't measure up to Mozart, but it's only in comparison to Mozart that he doesn't live up. Otherwise, he'd be the apple of the Emperor's eye. But there's a flip side too - Mozart's genius doesn't exist unless it's in counterpoint to everything else around it. How do you recognize brilliance if you don't also know mediocrity? In fact, the Patron Saint of Mediocrities is one of the true gifts to the world. I could make religious analogies and comparisons, but that would be pretentious... though I've probably already shot long past that mark.

But what's most interesting is that all of us have parts of Salieri in us, and parts of Mozart. We all have moments of strain, failure, and frustration. But we also have moments of grace, beauty and forgiveness. That perfect line that lights up a room, the thing you did at work that just worked, the way a three-year-old can say "Daddy, I love you" in a way that you know you're doing something that's really important, really right.

So, yes. Salieri meets Wolfgang. Not in a bar, not in the concert hall. But in each of us. At exactly the same time.

The water's warm...

My first official blog posting. How intimidating, having come after so many other clever, wonderful and brilliant bloggers and thinkers... and the countless insipid non-thinkers who must somehow be taking up internet bandwith that has to run out sometime, somewhere. Doesn't it?

And now I'm one of them... or at least a little bit.

In the wrong context, there's much about blogging and bloggers that makes my skin crawl - the rampant navel gazing, the endless myopia, the lousy grammar. That's why I never wanted a blog - associations with them can be discomforting. At the same time, I've read a tremendous number of blogs that have made me laugh (god bless you, Tyler Durden), and many that have made me think and consider things (thanks, links from Salon). I read blogs as much as the next guy or gal, so I've never wanted to throw my hat into the ring because I don't want to waste people's time with pointless blather.

So why now? It's hard to say.

It's worth stating upfront that I don't plan to be pumping out strained witticisms on a daily basis, or blathering commentaries about gas prices or celebrity gossip. Not that those aren't worthy topics, and I certainly read my fair share of them, but there are enough commentators out there that I'm not looking to add my voice to the din.

At the same time, I'm drawn to the idea of just having a place to put down my thoughts these days. Some of that has to do with my personal life, which is going through some upheaval right now. I don't necessarily plan to be talking about that, but it informs how I'm thinking, feeling, and what feels important or relevant to me. And some of those things have made me to treasure my relationship with my son all the more, even though he's been the center of my universe since the day he was born. Kudos to some great friends who do a fantastic job of this and implicitly showed the value of just having a place to catalogue the moments that may otherwise be lost.

So we'll see what happens.