I was IMing an old friend who I hadn’t talked to in awhile, and I was telling my Amsterdam story when I was inspired to lookup the email I sent a few folks right before I came back from Europe in 2000, where (the much smarter) 21-year old version of me wrote:
perspective…i think about coming back, and i don’t
think about picking up my life where it left off,
because that’s impossible, it’s all changed too much,
i’ve changed too much. so in a very real sense, my
perspective on returning is alot like my perspective
on coming here- it’s going to be a lot of fun
inventing myself into a new world which bears some
resemblance to one that i knew once.
story of my life, it seems. 
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After Arrested Development was cancelled, the sun was darkened in my eyes, food lost its flavor, and even Fake Steve Jobs couldn’t make me smile. Thankfully, Michael Cera felt my pain and came up with the wonderful Clark and Michael to ease my suffering. AD fans should check it out, everyone else can go about their business.
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There is a hierarchy to wedding parties based around the amount of time, effort, and stress that each individual brings to the event. The only two positions that are inviolate are the top of the hierarchy– the bride– and the bottom of the hierarchy, the groomsmen. Everyone else can be shuffled around somewhat depending on the particular circumstances of the wedding, but you can count on the bride being the center of the universe and the groomsmen being, at best, completely useless. Of course, it’s possible for a groomsman to rise up from the muck and distinguish himself from the rabble, but most groomsmen don’t bother out of a fear of saying something stupid and ruining the wedding for someone higher up in the hierarchy.
Fortunately for you all, I have no such fears. And so you get to enjoy the following story.
(Note: For a some additional context that may prove useful later, here are Jen Harris’ pictures from the pre-wedding stuff. I think they require some sort of account at kodak to see them, so no need to follow the link until you read the story and decide if it’s worth your while.)
I flew into Boston Thursday evening because I couldn’t find a cheap Friday flight that would get me into town in time for the rehearsal. An additional bonus was getting to hang out at a barbecue (how that word has new meaning for me now) at Kate’s parents’ house with Clay and Emily and my longtime role model, Jordan’s Dad. Kate did not consult me beforehand on beer selection (the only faux pas of what was otherwise a delightfully drunken weekend), and so the only choices available were Sam Adams’ Summer Ale and Corona (note to next wedding party: Sam Adams’ Black Lager, Lagunitas IPA, Anchor Steam, and Fireman’s #4).
I first met Kate’s Dad, Emil (who often works at Jordan Hospital in Plymouth, MA– how funny) and I had to do that awkward thing where someone asks me what I do and I say “math” because it’s easier than really explaining what I do, but the person I’m talking to can tell that I’m oversimplifying it and out of some masochistic impulse wants to know more, at which point I launch into the whole spiel about graphs and combinatorics and optimization because I don’t really have any level of explanation that lies between “math” and an incredibly detailed description of my dissertation topic. I should probably test out several midpoints that are technical enough to be frightening without sucking all of the oxygen out of the conversation. Anyway, Emil was cool– he’s an ER doctor who’s never watched ‘ER’, he loaned me a swimsuit, and at some point in the evening he arm wrestled someone, though I never figured out why.
Many beers later, and after a really good conversation with Jordan’s Dad about missed opportunities (a theme that has been resonating lately), I was introduced to Kate’s Mom, Marianne. Come to think of it, I don’t know that anyone introduced me, it’s possible that I just sauntered over and introduced myself (I am, after all, a people person.) So we’re chatting for a bit, and she asks how I know Jordan, and I explain that I lived next door to him in our freshman dorm at Thug U. Jordan and I shared a wall, actually– my bed was on side of it, his on the other, so I was telling Marianne that I used to hear these really odd sounds coming from Jordan’s side of the wall late at night. So Marianne (and I think Kate’s aunt too, by this point) inquired as to what kinds of sounds I had heard, and after a beat, I replied “Well, I don’t know if you know what an ostrich sounds like…”
Marianne and Kate’s aunt laughed alot, but some killjoy bridesmaid alerted Jordan who came over and ruined my fun. I’m pretty sure this bridesmaid saw me making a play for enhanced wedding party status and felt threatened. Little did she know that I still had another bullet in the holster.
Later on in the evening, they played one of those DVDs that has all those pictures of the bride and groom when they were babies all the way up through when they met each other. Several of the pictures had Kate as a really little girl with her Mom, and the similarity between the two of them was striking. After the show, I commented to Marianne about the similarity, and she told me that she heard that alot and then she made some self-deprecating remark about how Jordan has *this* to look forward to in 30 years. I was a bit thrown by this, so I said, “You’re pretty hot for a Mom, and guys totally check for that before they pull the trigger on something like marriage.” Again she laughed, again Jordan was alerted, again I was escorted away and instructed in no uncertain terms that I was to behave myself for the rest of the evening. Which I did, more or less.
Personally, I don’t feel like I ruined the wedding– not at the barbecue nor during the reception when Marianne and I were grinding on the dance floor (kidding, kidding…seriously. I’m kidding.) Jordan apologized to Marianne the day after the barbecue for ever having known me, but she told him it was fine– she said it’s nice to be called ‘hot’, no matter what your age. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.
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I was in Boston last weekend for my friend Jordan’s wedding. I had a fantastic time- I’ve never been to Boston proper before, and I was impressed by the architecture, the nightlife, and the quality of the women– it threw a wrench into my general theory that women get hotter as you move further south, I may need to revisit that one.
I had one story I wanted to share with all of you, this one moment that became the dominant theme of my weekend. The rehearsal dinner was at Skipjack’s, a place that I would recommend to all of you the next time you’re in Boston. I was sitting at a fun table with a great mix of people that I was loosely connected to, and at one point, my friend Dan ordered a round of kamikazes for all of us– including Jordan, who was also at the table. We passed the drinks around, and when Jordan got his, he opted not to drink it, pleading that he didn’t want to be hung over on his wedding day. This didn’t faze any of us, we simply applied the standard peer pressure that gets Jordan to do whatever dumb thing we want him to do. Only this time, it was different.
The bride came over to the table, and I’m not sure if it was a coincidence or if she saw what was going on and intentionally intervened. The whole vibe changed suddenly– all of the girls immediately backed off, leaving Dan and I as the only ones pushing Jordan to do the shot. Still, I didn’t quite lose heart yet- Dan and I had each made Jordan do all sorts of stupid shit over the years, certainly our combined power would be enough to counteract the bridal barrier.
And then he handed the shot back to us. And I realized then, and for the first time, that we had lost him to her.
Needless to say, I was disheartened. I tried to console myself the rest of the weekend by engaging in my usual wedding weekend activities– drinking, dancing, hitting on the bride’s mom. But I kept coming back to that moment, and whenever I tried to discuss my feelings with people, they always tried to console me by saying that I hadn’t lost him, I had gained her, and stuff like that. I wasn’t so sure about that– this girl seems pretty clever, I’m not sure she would be down to celebrate Labor Day by going around Budapest buying baristas buffalo wings. There was also the argument that she was a really good person who was extremely worthy of being Jordan’s puppetmaster wife and best friend. This made me feel better– I realized that she’s a good person who really cares about Jordan’s well-being, whereas I am an evil person who is primarily interested in my own entertainment, and that the battle for Jordan’s soul is on.
The kamikaze incident was a shot heard round the world, but I have not yet begun to fight.
(P.S. It’s tongue-in-cheek folks, I know it’s hard to tell sometimes. Congratulations Jordan and Kate– we all love you.)
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I was struck with a bit of deja vu tonight that I wanted to write about.
But first– this may be my second favorite xkcd ever. (For those who are so inclined, this is my favorite xkcd ever.)
My first time in Austin– back when I’m a senior in college, and I’ve flown into Austin to interview for a job at IBM. I get in late, I rent a car, and I only have a very vague notion of where I’m going– north on 183, to the Renaissance Hotel.
(aside: this was a time when I was visiting lots of technology areas– Silicon Valley, Highway 183 in Austin, Route 128 in Boston– and in reading about them beforehand, they had almost this mystical quality, like these were roads that were paved in gold or had hovercars or something. It was heartbreaking to find out that they are just a bunch of highways with office parks and apartment complexes and strip malls– and in the case of 183, the Landing Strip.)
So I’m driving along 183, and as I pass (what I later learned was called) the Mopac interchange, I see the Renaissance hotel up on this hill in the distance, but I still can’t quite figure out how to get to it from where I am. So I get off on the 360 exit, and I start down Loop 360 (it’s so dark I can’t tell how beautiful it is) and try turning right on Great Hills Trail, but I just end up surrounded by these mansions on hills- it’s not taking me closer to the hotel. So I head back to 360, and I make my way back to 183, keep going north, and finally maneuver my way to the hotel. I check in, but I’m hungry, so I head across the street to HEB for the first time in my life, and I bought a falafel sandwich.
(second aside: there really is no point to this story. I’m just waxing nostalgic. feel free to bail out and go read kottke.)
Every now and again, for whatever reason, I happen to be heading down 183 and my eye will catch the Renaissance hotel in just the right way that it triggers this memory of the first evening I ever spent in Austin, and this was one of those nights. It’s quite possible that it feels more poignant to me now because this is the first time it’s happened to me since I’ve started giving serious thought to leaving.
I have really loved living here– in a way that has somehow managed to last longer than any love I’ve ever had for any girl. I think it has something to do with this persistent memory of my first time here. I can still remember how A, E, H, and M (isn’t it nice when the alphabetical and the chronological sync up perfectly?) looked the very first time I ever saw them, but it was necessarily a momentary, one-time sort of thing– there was never another time that could ever evoke that initial feeling of discovery or wonder. But my first impression of Austin is always there for me– so utterly comforting.
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Hi all, I’m sorry I haven’t posted in awhile, I’ve been immersed in a couple of great books that have taken over my life this past week. I just came across this post from Jason Kottke that McSweeney’s is in a bit of financial trouble, through no fault of their own. They’re holding a big sale over at their store right now, including auctioning off some rare and unusual items.
If McSweeney’s goes under, I’ll never be able to fulfill my life-long dream to publish something with them, so please head over to their store and buy whatever makes you happy.
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I was updating my LinkedIn profile the other day when I came across the following job listing:
Engineering Director - Austin
The job is listed underneath Google’s TX-Dallas jobs page (UPDATE: it used to be on the TX-Dallas page, now there is a TX-Austin page with the listing– very interesting). Surprisingly, I haven’t been able to find any coverage of when they might be opening an office here or where that office might be in the Statesman or in a few blog searches, which seems odd to me. I did a followup search over at Indeed (the best job search engine, hands down) and came across a listing for a technical sourcer in Austin, posted about a month ago. I think this thing is for real.
Google has been placing engineering offices in close proximity to the best computer science programs in the country over the past several years, so opening an up close to The University of Texas-Austin is a natural choice. I imagine this will help them in recruiting engineers from UT– lots of CS grads want to stay in Austin, and there usually are not enough entry-level jobs to support them. It will be really interesting to see a) what kind of work they will do here, and b) how their presence will impact the labor market for startups in Austin, which has been relatively insulated from the impact of the Google talent vacuum. There are many high-quality people who love Austin and couldn’t fathom living anywhere else, along with a number of ex-Austinites in Silicon Valley who might like the chance to live here again.
I wonder if they’ll have The Salt Lick do the catering…
UPDATE 2: Yep, it’s for real– here’s the listing for a Software Engineer - Austin.
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Two stories caught my eye in the last couple of days, both dealing with the strange relationship people have with publicity.
First, there’s this story about Allison Stokke, who is a pole vaulter that has become an Internet sex symbol because some sports blog posted a picture of her at a pole vaulting event in which she looks really hot. In order to deal with her unwanted popularity, Allison and her family decided to…sit down for a front page article on the Washington Post.
Then today, I heard about a kid named Kunal Sah, who had hoped to win the National Spelling Bee in order to get the world to pay attention to the plight of his parents, who are having all sorts of trouble with the immigration process and were deported to India not too long ago. Of course, he didn’t win– and the the NYT has done a couple of pieces on him anyway…which has brought attention to his situation.
It makes me smile to see how savvy the next generation of attention consumers has become at such a young age.
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Some folks are organizing a wii tennis tournament in Brooklyn.
Really great idea; decent chance they’ll get sued for trademark infringement.
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I miss the AD wonderboy so– here he is a doing a parody thing of knocked up.
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