Dear Fashion Police,

I do not like wearing a belt. It's a lot of work to put o. It gets in the way throughout the day. I need to have enough belts to match my shoes (and how exactly does one match sneakers?).

My most compelling argument against belts however, is that they serve to hold up one's pants. This implies that I did not buy pants that fit in the first place. I'd like to think I can buy pants that fit well enough on their own.

Sincerely,
Will-no-belt-Read

I'm Pretty Sure She Was a Prostitute

He had on a sports coat, jeans, and sneakers. He hunched at the table in Starbucks once he sat down next to her. She smiled at me the moment I walked in. Not the "I'm happy smile" but rather the "I'm trouble, do you want some of this trouble?" smile. She had on a trench coat that stopped at her thighs and the cut of her dress made it look like all that stood between him and her flesh was the coat and a wink.

He was a geek. He seemed to have no backbone. And yet, she slid her chair around to sit closer to him, and leaned in. He straightened her bag, as if it would fall over and everything would fall out. And then they left together. If she wasn't getting paid to be seen with him, then I have no idea what was going on there.

What I Do, and Who I Am

I go rock climbing, but I am not a rock climber.
I ski, but I am not a skier.
I golf, but I am not a golfer.
I kite surf, but I am not a kite surfer.
I fenced, and I was a fencer.

There are things that I do, but for the most part, they do not define me. I wouldn't say that I'm a guy who hangs on rocks. You wouldn't know my name on the local level, let alone the national level or find it in a magazine about rock climbing.

Fencing was different. I was a fencer. If I was introducing myself I would say "Hello, I'm Will, I'm a fencer" or "...I coach fencing".  If you knew of fencing in Lafayette, you'd eventually hear my name. If you were a fencing organizer in Indiana, you knew where to find me. And I had rubbed elbows with enough people nationally that I could go to most any section and have someone vouch for me. I went home and thought about fencing. I slept and I dreamed about fencing. I was a fencer.

Now, now that I have been fencing-free for a year, I am less sure of what I am. I know that I want to be a husband, a father, but that a least half of that goal is not in my hands. I also find it noteworthy that I can rock climb, but I cannot husband. You can only be a husband, there is no action of "husbanding". Which to me suggests you can't fake it, or do it half way.

Who am I? I once was  so certain. I think that I was "different" when I fenced - more confident, more self-sure in a way that wasn't just shamelessness, but was full on back bone. It was the "two-face"  of being a ref, and just being a guy. It was being an expert, a trusted source, and a reliable resource. I provided value to a significant community. Having that has to be like an addictive drug. The more you get, the more you need it until you have to go cold turkey. So I worry now that I'm putting my toes back in the fencing water: Will I become a fencer again?

Dear Internets,

Some people call you the "intertubes" because you are not in fact a truck that you can just throw things on, but rather you are a series of tubes. Following in that logic, I'm renaming the recreational parts of you to "The Lazy River".

"What are you up to Will?"
"Oh, nothing. Just floating down the lazy river - reading Twitter, seeing what's new on Facebook, and looking up a book on Amazon, the usual."

Sincerely,
A Guy With His Intertube Ready

Realization

I remember sometime in high school thinking about how I often found myself spanning multiple social circles, and uniting those circles. When theater types are hanging with the pot heads and the band geeks you feel like something... unique is happening.

This Tuesday I was asked to assist in leading a group in SF. The organizer said I "had the right kind of personality". And it got me thinking about groups I've led. Wine Bunch, Kite Flying, twelve kinds of fencing, props crew, the list goes on. When I was on ASP staff, a volunteer pointed out that I played the role of "moderator" well - that I wasn't really concerned with the outcome of a meeting, so long as the group was productive. When I think about Agile software development, I like the parts that make people more productive, that make people work together, communicate more to reach a common goal.

I've known that I can be a developer, but I've also known that I could be better at something else. I've always felt like I was intended to be instrumental in something much bigger than who I am. I think this is that thing.

Dear Heart,

If I didn't wear you on my sleeve, I don't know where I'd put you. Inside my chest behind all those ribs just seems like I'm sheltering you from living life.

Sincerely,
Will

Dear San Francisco,

I've been really gassy the last two days. I'm sorry if I stunk up anyone's air space.

Sincerely,

Will-poo-gas-Read

Dear Victoria's Secret,

The model for your new seven way adjustable bra is way hotter than the one in the store windows last month. Since I ride the cable car by your store every day, I appreciate the upgrade.

Sincerely,
Will
P.S. Giving her my phone number would be a good idea.

Ruined

I reffed some foil (fencing) today. It was weird, because people wanted to know my history, and I wanted to tell them, but I didn't want them to know everything because I don't want to do everything again. Ref, coach, fence, armor, run a club.

And yet the day isn't out and I've been asked ot ref again and I may be going to a fencing club this Friday night. I knew this would happen.

Dear Hollywood,

Please, please, please stop putting Kathy Bates in movies. I don't think anyone hates life more than Kathy Bates.

Sincerely,

Will

P.S. Also, if you could take care of Sam Neil for me I'd be a pig in shit.

Related Question:

Do I have my shit together? I guess I assumed I did, but recent events make me wonder... maybe my shit's a mess.

Needs and Fears

I know I'm a better person when I'm volunteering. I need to make things that people use, that's who I am. I feel empty when I don't feel useful.

When I got to SF a year ago, I was enamored with all the opportunities to hang out with people interested in tech stuff. I went to a tech-talk hosted by Microsoft every couple of weeks - that where I met Rosey. I also started going to a group where people talked about Agile/Scrum. I was an oddball as a developer there. Most people were project managers of some sort.

I made a mistake of showing up to a leadership meeting for the group. I had hoped to learn how the pros get stuff done. I just wanted to observe, to be a fly on the wall. I saw the same things I see in any group of people. "The Problem" was still there. We're all human it seems, and we all face a challenge of communication.

What I saw was legislature getting in the way of people who wanted to do work, who were eager to help. Arguably the procedure needed to be there, and practices respected, but that doesn't mean it sat well with me.

Meanwhile, some of the people from that group started up another group with the goal being to do Agile development for non-profit organizations. I was a developer, I needed to volunteer, to make something useful, and I put my eggs in that basket.

I went to two meetings and I saw the same kinds of things (and people) that didn't sit well with me from previous group - I felt like we couldn't even agree what to work on. I thought, "How can we possibly get anything done if we work like this???" So I ran away; hiding my talents from a group that needed them, and depriving myself of an opportunity to really feel whole again. I was afraid that it'd be like a really sucky job that didn't pay well. I've quit my share of jobs where there's too much direction and not enough effort.

So tomorrow, I'm having coffee with the man who is heading up this project. He knows that I lied about why I wasn't available for the last two months. He knows why I'm hesitant to jump in. We're going to talk about it. I'm afraid of what he has to say. I'm afraid that I might come out feeling like it isn't the situation I want, but that I might try it anyway because I don't have anything that better matches my skills and needs.

Dear San Francisco

I'm not gay. Sorry SF, I know there's a lot of dudes who are into dudes, but that's not me. I have no qualms with the gay community, but I have been banking on the fact that the assumption in the past has always been that I'm straight. This is a whole new ball game convincing a woman that I'm straight in addition to letting her know I'm interested without comming off as a skeeze.

Some people have tried to convince me it is a compliment. "Gay guys keep themselves up better" is the assumption that comes from. But really it's more like someone confusing me with a guy named Steve. I'm not Steve. I'm Will, it's totally different. Nothing against Steve.

I feel like this little fella who says "Fuck you! I'm an anteater!"

If My Eyes Were Green With Blue

One morning when I ran ahead of schedule,
I spy you on the other side of the cable car.
My still-wet hair rests upon my neck,
I could not know just then who you saw
With your eyes.
It was me, and I was easily beautiful to you that morning.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work.
One leg passes the other.
You hope for my happiness that day.

I slipped my tennis racket over my shoulder,
You are on the cable car again, I had told you I sang.
Now you knew I play tennis too.
That weekend would I see you? You wanted to see me
With your eyes.
Every word I say to you speaks volumes of my energy.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work
Your heart is uncertain,
"Let's go out on Sunday", you hope I would say.

My home is in Seattle, but I enjoy my deviations.
Reading is sexy, and a big part of my job.
The hole in my jeans and the wine on my chucks
Tells you I've really lived, that my story is worth hearing
With your ears.
You admire me for my confidence, my strength of will.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work.
Your right hand clasps the rail,
Your left hand waves "good morning" as I step off.

Tongue-tied and twisted you speak to me
Without thinking, without being afraid of me-
Knowing who you are when no one is looking.
You listen and search my choir for my voice
With you ears.
Certain of the sound, never finding it in the crowd.

You think about me every morning
As leave your home for work each day.
You hope that I am there waiting
On my feet.

This Weekend: Kite Surfing

For being Thursday, it's as much of a lock as it can be. A guy at work, John, als o kite surfs, so he's offering me a ride down to 3rd Ave on Sunday. I've got my gear ready. All systems are go!

Lessons (Re)Learned

This weekend was a great chance to get some perspective. I won't go into what the situation was to "protect the innocent". First and foremost, I reaffirmed that I'm a good looking guy. I haven't always thought that was true. Maybe it wasn't true.

I also relearned that making a girl feel special is a great feeling.