me- the tour

Man. On the walk home today I was thinking I really wanted to post about something besides George Bush‘s assclown antics.

Looks like Aaron‘s feeling the same way.

Read his post from the previous day and the comments there. Marc is trying to make a point, but he keeps sliding off and blowing it. I like his moxie and I’ve said as much, but d00d, you’re hardly going to win my respect for your global awareness by calling me a “lazy frozen-brained beer-swiller”. We’ve acknowledged and avowed that there are plenty of Americans we all know and even admire, but the simple truth is *I* can’t get your slack-jawed moron flunky president out of the White House. That’s *your* job, and you’ve dropped the damn ball. Live with your shame.

Anyway, Aaron’s had enough of raging into the void. He wants to talk about something else for a while.

I can’t help feeling that’s the wrong way to go though. Here we are, in a world were the biggest, stupidest kid in school is pounding the living shit out of some weasely punk no one likes anyway, and that would be fine except he’s using a tree to do it, and for every swing he takes at the slimy little twerp he’s pasting about 1000 other kids. And we’re all standing around, knowing full well that there isn’t much we can do about it except yell at him to stop.

So with that going on right in front of you, how do you talk about anything else?

It was a surreal day. On the ground floor of Me you have the raging disgust at the world, at life, at the universe, at what human beings are capable of doing to each other…. “Stubbornly refuse to become blinded to the beauty that is still in the world.” But it’s stretched so thin.

Then on the second floor of Me there’s a guy who would really love to be in a long-term, meaningful, and stimulating relationship. Kinda lonely for that kind of best friend you can build your life around. Optimistic, knowing that it’ll happen because he’s worth it, and a little impatient because he’s spent his whole life training for it.

Third floor– a huge, sprawling mess of stuff like “wants to keep spinning the music he loves” and “wishing I didn’t live in a magnetic vortex so I could at least run my monitor above 60Hz” and “it’s so very cool that I’m rekindling old friendships” and “going mad without a digital camera- hey Aaron, where are those pics I asked for?” and “how can one guy have so much laundry?” and “wow am I healthier than I have any right to be” and “should be writing my sister more often” and “how about I don’t play Star Wars BattleGrounds tonight” and “there was a beautiful fragile twilight quality to the world on my walk home today” and so on.

Fourth floor of Me is all about feeling thoroughly lucky to be who I am. I work for a truly kickass company and my benefits are also kickass. The people I work with, every one of them, are kickass. I am flooded with positive feedback and even when it’s critical it’s constructive. I’m disease & infirmity free and the closest thing I have to an alergy is a part-time reaction to sweet little Kylie, the newest roomate at Oceancide. I have friends who I can respect and know it’s returned. I send out love and feel it come back a thousand times over. I have a home I call mine, and all the toys I really need. My job is secure and far from boring. My life is as secure as it can be, and also far from boring. I can count on the people I’m close to, and I can tell there are lots of people around who’d like to be closer to me, if we can only find the time in our otherwise fulfilling lives. I am so very lucky to be me, right here, right now.

Fifth floor. It was a great day. Just when the Mill feels like it’s internally teetering we rally and make sense of it all again. We are the most capable and promising team I’ve ever imagined. Two groups went off to do feedback lunches and ended up at the same restaurant, but it was Pag’s so how can you really blame them. My group included Greg (smart, quiet, commited, supportive, the gears), Grant (intuitive, intellectual, warm, charismatic, the engine), and Jason (electric, empathic, frantic, solid gold, the fuel). Wondermill sends each of us out on paid lunches with other Millians to make sure we all keep in touch with each other, offering support and constructive criticism on a fairly regular basis. It’s a brilliant idea and everyone should be doing it. We end up being there for two hours and it was worth it. We’re all more or less usually on the same wavelength, this particular foursome, but as always we broke new ground, and the feedback is priceless in its own right. We laughed a lot, and communicated a lot. And as a bonus I ran into Michelle and Nicole, who I don’t think I’ve seen since the Nickelback concert. They’re awesome people. Maybe THIS time Michelle will keep in touch. Anyway, lunch was perfect and we had a blast. On the way out we paused by the other guys’ table and chatted for a sec, and for some reason half the girls in the place seemed to be checking us out. Nice. We get back to the office and charge through the rest of the day, interviewing another prospect and discussing yesterday’s hire, talking about our various options for new office space, hammering through details about the next promotion we’re doing and stuff about the website and such and… a thoroughly productive and positive day. We’re kicking ass. We’re brilliant and we’re winning and we’re the good guys. Yep, the fifth floor is a good floor.

All of this in a building made mostly out of positive energy, with a view that reaches into the infinite, and exists in the best neighbourhood around. And it’s all great, except you can’t get out the damn building without going through the bitter hall of the first floor.