Homo Sum:
humani nil a me alienum puto

“Thou hadst a whore’s forehead”.

I have to admit I haven’t heard that one before.

That’s part of a Bible quote that crazy old Fred Phelps pulled out this week as part of his ever-expanding GOD HATES X empire. This week X has been expanded to include Lady Gaga.

I’m sure she’s proud to be in company with all the other things and people Phelps thinks God hates. Like, you know, Canada.

As an aside, reading that chapter in Jeremiah–the one that Phelps is quoting–is kind of a comedy experience for someone like me, especially in the New International version:

Look up to the barren heights and see.
Is there any place where you have not been ravished?
By the roadside you sat waiting for lovers,
sat like a nomad in the desert.
You have defiled the land
with your prostitution and wickedness.

I am especially amused by seeing the passages in context, and seeing who the “you” in question is.

As a second aside, I love that I have the exact right tag for this post.

Well, how about this: I quit my job.

Actually, that’s not strictly speaking true–last Thursday I gave my two weeks notice, and while I am technically employed (and getting paid) through the end of that period, today I was “released”. In corporate-speak this means: don’t come in any more–now that you’re not on the team, we don’t want you to be exposed to anything we’re deciding for the future. In Chris-speak this means: extra paid vacation.

Let’s do this like a FAQ, just for fun:

1. Are you just quitting, or do you have something else lined up?

I gave my notice because I’m accepting another position with a different company. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the economy or not, but let me assure you that in order to straight up quit with no plan, there would have had to be some wicked problems, or else I’d have to be a moron.

2. Why is this other position better than the one you have.?

Well, this is the rub. There are a lot of answers for this.

One is purely lifestyle–the nature of my previous job required me to have copious day-to-day interactions with people in Boston, Israel, and Australia, as well as less regular interactions with people in all North American time zones and the UK. This meant a lot of early morning meetings and late night meetings. It meant that the most important meetings–the ones where we needed to get people from all time zones together–were always scheduled at times that I wanted to spend with my daughter.

Another is personal relationships–while I worked with many excellent people at my old position, the new offer came from someone who has been my boss at five previous companies, whom I like, trust, and respect. And several of my new co-workers are also people I’ve worked closely with for more than a decade, who I also like, trust, and respect, and with whom I know I can work well.

Another is the nature of the organization. Today I ended my association with one of the largest software companies in North America. When I start working again it will be with a very small (relatively) company that’s still venture funded and privately held. There are some good things about very large companies: benefits, stability, and some process things. But there are also a lot of big downsides of any large organization, particularly including bureaucratic hassles, Mordoc the Preventer, internal politics, etc. In a smaller, more focused organization a lot of these things just don’t come up. In practice this means that you can accomplish more with the same amount of work–internal inefficiencies result in less friction during the process. (And, now that Trish is employed stably, and with good benefits, I can afford to deal with some of the small company stuff.)

Maybe the biggest reason though is just that it’s time for a change. I’ve been working on the project I left today for nearly nine years, and you know, the only difference between a rut and a grave is depth. I’ve been wanting a change for a while, and this is the first time I’ve seen a chance to have one that isn’t ridiculously irresponsible.

2(b) Does this mean you didn’t like the boss you had this morning?

Quite the opposite actually–the woman I reported to is one of the best managers I’ve had. The decision has nothing to do with her–indeed, she made the decision a lot more difficult to make.

3. Umm, what exactly did you do, and are you doing something different now?

I don’t normally talk about work details online–not because of prudence, but because it’s boring. I was the “Senior Architect” for a product line of enterprise software this morning, essentially the person with final technical responsibility for a 130 person development organization spread across three continents (while cleverly avoiding actual management responsibility). The nature of the particular position meant that in addition to the specific product line that I explicitly owned, I was also heavily involved in a number of other products’ activities, primarily with in the security area of the company.

When I next start working I’ll be one of a small team of people working on development of a single product in North America–I think there are six others. Obviously I’ll be a lot more involved directly with the product, but at the end of the day it’s still about designing and building enterprise software. So it’ll be different, in that I’ll be much more directly involved, but also the same, in that the work still relates to building enterprise-quality software to solve problems that only large organizations have.

4. So is this a good career move?

Well, you can certainly make the case that going from being the technical lead for a 130 person team, responsible for a product line, to being one of a handful of people working on a single product is huge step backwards careerwise.

Similarly, you could argue that in terms of forward career potential I’m downgrading. At my old, large, employer I hadn’t reached the end of the technical track–there were overall architects for whole business units, and then ranks of highly paid “thinkers” and “distinguished engineers” who had reached a kind of technical apotheosis. At this new firm, I’m walking into the top rank of technical positions, and there is no apparent way to move upwards without moving away from the technical track. Essentially I’m looking at “growing with the company” rather than “growing inside the company”.

I am firmly aware of both of these things.

I’m reasonably certain that I will be a happier person in the new position, and that it’s worth the trade off. I am consciously trading in some of this career path stuff for more quality time with my family, and for spending less of my time generally either angry or frustrated.

5. Does this have anything to do with your recent move back to Ontario?

Ironically, and despite the timing, no.

To be completely honest, one of the the things I had been telling myself about the move was that I would be in a market where I could potentially get a new position that was “at my level” and that would pay something like what I got paid at my previous position–this wasn’t really a possibility in Halifax.

However, before I even got a chance to start looking around here, I got this excellent offer from my old boss, and I had to take it.

6. So, wait, does that mean you’re working in an office now, after all those years remote?

Nope. Just like the last decade plus, I’ll be working remotely for an office in Boston. I’ve just switched which office in Boston.

I will still be working from my home office, and still taking regular (although perhaps less frequent) trips to the Boston office.

And I can put off the whole “can I actually go back to working in an office” question for a little longer.

7. So, when do you start?

In the new year–January 4th–. Between now and then I’m unemployed.

8. So what are you going to do tomorrow, on your first unemployed day? Just sit around?

Actually, quite the opposite. I have a very busy day planned tomorrow. A while back, partly as a reward for being unbelievably good during our house-hunting weekend, and partly as a way to suggest that Ontario would be fun because it had lots of things that aren’t available in Nova Scotia, and partly because I like to spoil, I bought tickets for Sarah and I to attend the National Ballet’s Nutcracker tomorrow night. Actually, since I was being silly I got us box seats–if you’re gonna be a bear, be a grizzly, as my grandfather used to say.

And since I’m suddenly, and unexpectedly (remember I thought I would be working through the 24th) unemployed, we’re going to make a day of it. Travel to Toronto in the morning, lunch and the afternoon at the Royal Ontario Museum, then dinner, and then the Nutcracker (both the kids’ story thing before, and then the actual performance.) Actually the only worry I have is how I’m going to make it through the (nearly 2 hour) performance–I suspect it won’t hold my attention like it will hold Sarah’s, but I could be wrong.

Friday would be the day I’d spend just sitting around, but I actually have to trek back to Toronto that day to do my exit interview at my former employer’s “Toronto office”¹. I may spend the rest of that day hitting specialty bookshops in Toronto, if the weather’s nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been to The Sleuth or Bakka-Phoenix.

9. So, how are you feeling about all of this?

Oh, you know, surfing on the combination of relief, excitement, and pants-wetting terror. You’d have to know me well to tell–my poker face is better for this kind of thing than it is for actual, you know, poker–but if I weren’t so good at rolling with it, I’d be a little freaked out.

Actually, the biggest thing I’m feeling right now is relief that the last couple of days are over–the time between giving your notice and actually leaving can be very awkward, especially in a situation like mine.

1. If your office is north of the 407 and nearly in Markham, can you really call it a Toronto office? Bah.(back)

I’ve been very busy the last few days, with a combination of post-moving stuff (hey, look, we’re close to family now, and it’s the holidays), and with some important changes at work (on which I shall write a very journal-y entry shortly). Which explains why I haven’t already written about an utterly unacceptable, and miserably predictable, incident. Quite a bit’s been written already, and I don’t have anything new to add, but I don’t want to go without noting it here.

If you’ve read here for a while, you may have noticed that I’m a fan of the writing of Peter Watts, both his novels and his blogging. You will also have noticed that I am very much not a fan of the rising abuse of police powers over the last decade across Western society, particularly in the form of the US DHS, and in special particular, in the form of the US Border, where I’ve personally seen several times what I would describe as egregious abuses of power. (Fortunately I’ve never been on the end of any serious problems–just a lot of delays, and sub-gorilla chest-thumping).

So, you can imagine my immediate reaction upon reading this story:

Dr Peter Watts, Canadian science fiction writer, beaten and arrested at US border
…

Peter, a Canadian citizen, was on his way back to Canada after helping a friend move house to Nebraska over the weekend. He was stopped at the border crossing at Port Huron, Michigan by U.S. border police for a search of his rental vehicle. When Peter got out of the car and questioned the nature of the search, the gang of border guards subjected him to a beating, restrained him and pepper sprayed him. At the end of it, local police laid a felony charge of assault against a federal officer against Peter. On Wednesday, he posted bond and was taken across the border to Canada in shirtsleeves (he was released by Port Huron officials with his car and possessions locked in impound, into a winter storm that evening).

In reading the comments at that post, and on the discussions at Making Light and Scalzi’s site, I was actually shocked by the number of people who seemed to assume Watts must have done something to “deserve” the attack. Shocked both at the assumption that it was more likely someone like Watts had misbehaved than that some border guards had abused their authority, but even more shocked at the notion that anything he might have done would have deserved that reaction.

Watts himself has since spoken a little bit about the incident (twice actually), but for obvious reasons can only say a certain amount–although in what-appears-to-be typical fashion for Watts, he’s already said more than his self-interest might dictate. A scrupulously honest, outspoken person on one side, border guards on the other side–I know which way I’m biased.

There’s been a lot commentary around since. Let me quote some of my favourite bits.

Don’t tell me Watts should have known better. He’s a free, law-abiding citizen of a free country, who has a right to believe in the rule of law and reasonable behavior in the nation right next to his. If you tell me he asked for it, he deserved it, what happened to him was justified by his actions, I swear I will ban you from this goddamn journal. Because that could have been any of us.

Everyone involved in this crime who was wearing a uniform should go to jail. They’ve brought shame on my country and on my justice system.

That’s Emma Bull, who I am proud to call a friend, being awesome.

If we assume, arguendo, that (irrespective of how it ended) what started this was an honest query about the legitimacy of the search, then this is a time to stand up and be counted; because Peter Watts did. Someone has to have the courage to look authority in the eye and challenge it. To force the powers that are to justify themselves. We like ot say we have a system where the people who are in charge are answerable to the people they are governing.

That only works when the governed refuse to act like sheep.

Terry Karney, making an important point, and one that needs to be made a lot more often.

I believe he questioned the authority of the border patrol, and that is why he was beaten, thrown drenched and under-dressed into a cold holding cell, and eventually dumped at the border.

There are those that will say he asked for it; that he should have cringed more. That he should have been meek in the face of authority, and anticipating the abuse of it. That he should have been cowed.

But do we wish to become a society that enforces meekness in the face of abuses of authority on pain of physical abuse? There are other societies that have enforced the rule of law through terror. I do you the dignity of assuming that you do not need reminding of their names and infamy.

Author Elizabeth Bear, in a letter to her representatives.

It’s not just authors writing on blogs, though, the story has been picked up by the national press, including The National Post, the Toronto Star, the Globe & Mail, and many others. (And if the comments at the site I mentioned earlier were depressing, the comments at the major papers are enough to make me utterly give up hope for humanity–I mean these people are just fractally wrong. Many, many people should read comments like this one before they make their own.) There was also some coverage in the Port Huron paper, which includes an expanded version of the border guards’ story–a story that sounds very unlikely to me.

I’m sure there will be video of the incident, and that it will vindicate Watts. Sure enough that I’ve put my money where my mouth is and become one of those friends Watts didn’t know he had. I’ve done this for three reasons: because it could as easily have been me at that border, because while I don’t know Watts personally he’s in my tribe (a mouthy atheist Canadian SF writer Oysterband fan? How could he not be?) and we must hang together or they’ll hang us one by one, and because it’s important to resist this kind of abuse whenever you can.

You may recall that I was pretty seriously geeked a while back by the implications of the Hubble Ultra Deep Field.

Well, they’ve taken a new image, using infrared light this time, which lets them see even deeper.

There is information, images, videos, and more about the newly release survey at the Hubble site.

You know the punchline: “I don’t make the rules, I just enjoy them.” I pull this out every now and then when Dr. Wife points out to me some way in which our society is constructed to make things better for men, while giving women the less pleasant end of the stick.

I’m sure I’ll get a chance to use it when we get around to discussing the article in Newsweek about studies in perceived intelligence…

It’s what we call the male hubris and female humility effect. Men are more confident about their IQ. These studies show that on average, women underestimate their IQ scores by about five points while men overestimate their own IQs. Since these studies were international in scope, the results were essentially the same whether women were from Argentina, America, Britain, Japan or Zimbabwe. Another factor affecting perception may be distribution of IQ … Although [men and women] are on average the same, the people at the very top and the very bottom of the IQ bell curve are more likely to be men.

Note that the article is about perception–while there’s lots of interesting history of research about whether or not there is any actual difference, including some pretty clear evidence that men’s intelligence has greater variance, that men might actually be slightly ahead, and that how intelligence is achieved is different in the sexes, and so on, the discussion here is about how things are perceived. And that’s actually more interesting in many ways that the more objective questions.

While there’s lots of meat there for battle-of-the-sexes banter in the perception findigns, the line in the article that I actually think is most interesting is this one: “Beliefs may be more important than actual ability in certain settings.” At some point I’m going to write up my theory of useful personal mythologies, and that line (in context) overlaps significantly with it.

I’ve been mostly keeping my nose out of the US debate–I don’t understand the debate, since I look on a certain level of access to quality health care as a right of all me–but I do want to point out the comments of John Gary Maxwell, a 40 year veteran surgeon.

You should read the whole piece, but here’s a couple of choice quotes:

If “spreading the wealth” is socialization, our system is already socialized, with the “haves” paying for the “have-nots” by a tax on the wealthier group. This explains a $15 aspirin, $10,000 to $15,000 antibiotic bills, and bills for heart surgery of $250,000 or more.

We resist “socialized medicine” from the federal government while oblivious that we have embraced socialized medicine delivered -after profits – by the insurance industry.

or

Rationing of medical care in a non-profit system should be based on society defining what services should be provided, not on restricting care on the basis of income, as in a profit based system.

or

Unless personal selfishness can be refocused to the common good, health care in the United States will remain with irrational rationing and inappropriate and financially unsustainable socialization by insurance, drug and medical supply industries

The other aspect of the debate I can’t believe is how the “socialist” label is used as a mindless scare tactic. I mean, as a good Canadian I don’t see what’s wrong with socialism anyway, but there’s something particularly hypocritical in the apparent American attitude towards the notion of socialism…

(click here to view)

Matt Wuerker Politico.com Nov 12, 2009 EditorialCartoonists.com

Apologies for the lack of content over the last little while, and the last week particularly–the preparations for The Big Move have just destroyed whatever slim shards of free time I can normally wrest from my schedule.

Since everything is now on the truck and on its way, and I’ll be spending the next three days doing a very gentle road-trip to my new home, I should have time to start catching up with the blog again. Assuming I can even move tomorrow, of course–Herculesing that GIANT storage bin (full of all the red wine and port, none of which can go on the truck, and all of which must therefore go in the car with me) up the stairs was probably not the smartest move, despite how manly and powerful it must have looked, and how efficient of a move it was. Still, surely a bottle of Ontario’s finest hard cider, followed by a bottle of Quebec’s finest stout, will solve all my internal muscular issues while I sleep.

Anyway, since today is also Thanksgiving for the Yanks, I’ll send out wishes for a good holiday to my American friends, and I’ll leave you with this picture:

That’s the centerpiece from our Thanksgiving dinner last month. It was assembled by Dr. Wife and my lovely daughter from things they found in the yard–so it’s also a little bittersweet, since I suspect the new house won’t have quite the same wilderness resources, being much more “in the city”. However, since I haven’t seen the new place yet… who knows?

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.

—Robert Service (1874 – 1958)

I’ve been a fan of Service for quite a long time–in fact one of my old roommates and I once memorized The Cremation of Sam McGee, and used to declaim it on random social occasions; it’s a poem that demands performance–but today was the first time I encountered this particular poem. I really, really like it. So I’ll share it with you guys.

So, last night was likely my last time as a regular attendee of the Halifax Gentlemen’s Poker Association’s weekly meetings. Since I’ve been pretty consistent about attending these for several years now–I think the first one I went to was just before Sarah was born, as I recall making jokes about having to leave suddenly to rush to the hospital, so that’s around six years of meetings–this is going to represent a significant change in my week. Of course commuting around 2000km for the games isn’t really an option, hence this being my final regular game. (I say “regular game” since there is a non-zero chance that should I be in Halifax again later in my life, that I will drop in on a meeting.)

The lads made quite a night of it, with a series of surprises and parting gifts that would have brought a tear to the eye of a weaker man.

Things started out as normal, albeit with perhaps a slightly larger than usual attendance, and several rounds of cards were played. Things started to go crazy at the first break of the evening, when our host suddenly appeared with a veritable smörgåsbord of fine cheeses and high-end deli meats, on which we apparently to gorge ourselves, in honour of, well, me. I recall at least St. Agur blue, a double cream brie, a jarlsberg, Applewood smoked cheddar, Guinness/porter cheddars, limburger, the bellavita raspberry, and something utterly wonderful that I wasn’t familiar with that was referred to as “the Carleton”. I may be forgetting one–I’ll know when I see the photos of the groaning boards later. I spent less time with the meat tray, but it was covered with thinly sliced European deli meats, prosciutto and the like, and accompanied by a couple of different kinds of pepperoni.

I was surprised and pleased by this presentation, and everyone probably ate more meat & cheese than was strictly speaking healthy.

If that had been all, it would have been a generous and unexpected send-off… but that was just the beginning.

Later in the night was the presentation of a special “Lifetime Membership” certificate, accompanied by a bottle of my favourite Speyside Scotch. Check it out:

That crest, by the way, is one I made up when we first started ironically referring to our sketchy weekly games as meetings of the HGPA, and which I integrated into my fictitious history of the association. The slogan (which you can also see up at the top of this blog page under the title) is a variant on a lyrics from Me & My Uncle, by the way. We’ve used it for a number of things over the years, with my previous favourite being the custom stein I had made a couple of years ago.

The boys weren’t done yet though, as they went my stein one farther, presenting me with a set of eight engraved tumblers. Here’s one:

I think we can agree that the boys really went all out here, giving me an epic send-off. This, of course, doesn’t make it easier for me to leave Halifax, but I guess I can take some solace in the immortal words of Dr. Seuss. Which isn’t to say that a few weeks from now you might find me spending Tuesday night sitting alone in my new basement, drinking fine scotch out of lovely tumblers and missing the hell out my guys.