adamyntium

Category: personal

  • A mercifully very short entry on the Google IPO

    Many people know I have significant ties with Google; I use AdWords personally and for my clients, I use AdSense on my own Web sites (including this one), and I have many friends who are Googlers. I am hardly an impartial observer.

    I also know that this dang Google IPO has been covered ad naseum. So while I feel compelled to say something here, I’ll keep it blissfully short:

    Google is an honorable company, with good people (execs and all) that I believe really do want to make the world a better place. I hope they continue to succeed in every way.

  • The Internet really is global (or: "I’m a Genius in France")

    I’ve been a geek for as long as I can remember. But I still am amazed and amused to learn just how the Internet shrinks the world… especially nowadays with blogging. I’ve been hit on by seemingly random women from various locales that I can barely pronounce, gotten warm kudos from Sweden, been rediscovered by an old high school friend in a sleepy town in S. California, and even gotten job interviews from this humble blog.

    Blah blah blah… but what still really gets me excited is seeing my stuff translated into other languages! 🙂

    Not only has one of my (very old) Usenet humor postings been translated into Spanish (darn, can’t find the link at the moment), but I just happened to notice that I’m now a minor celebrity in a French paper or online periodical of some sort.

    I’ve had my blog entries linked to from other blogs all around the world, but this is the first time I know of that one of my blog-moments has been written about in another language.

    So what if the most recent ‘fame’ translates into something like this:

    Blogger Adam Lasnik, a legend in his own mind, is a typical example of the pig-headed Americans who think our Notre Dame was named after a middling U.S. football team…

    Okay, so I jest. In reality, the article makes reference to my earlier blogged comments about how I — as one of the ‘first’ (?!) Gmail testers — perceived the ads to be barely noticeable and hardly intrusive.

    I know, I know, it’s silly getting all excited about this simple and brief mention. But to me it symbolizes the impact that even us non-nude/non-sexy/non-politics-spouting/non-A-lister bloggers can have in the world. And that makes me happy. 🙂

  • A reminder of how meaningful Online socializing can be

    There are many times in which I’ve felt that people — myself included — would benefit from logging off and getting a life. This sort of cynicism (or optimism, depending on one’s take) is heightened when I read about people falling in love with someone else that they’ve “met” only online. Hey, I’ll admit… been there, done that. And never again.

    So, too, do I often ask myself why I continue to feel so passionate about online communities and online networking. With all the flaming and faking and fluffery and general bullshit, isn’t it all just a waste of time?

    Then every once in a while, I’m reminded why Online matters.

    Recently, in a health-‘n’-fitness related forum on orkut, a young, formerly active woman who is recovering (slowly) from a stroke posted a note expressing her general feeling of hopelessness.

    Over the last few days, many of us took time to give her thoughtful advice and warm encouragement. And then today, she just posted a followup note letting us know how much our responses have meant to her… and has promised to start being more proactive about getting her life back.

    This is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve personally saved two women (each who ‘met’ me from a forum online) from commiting suicide by keeping them “talking” over IM, finding a local hotline number for them and convincing them to make that critical call (since I’m not a licensed counselor!). And on a less severe but also heartwarming note, a great many people have thanked me over the years for my contributions to online communities, often giving me specific examples of how my information or encouragement or even friendship has made a difference in their lives.

    In the end, I may still be a hardened cynic about falling in love online, but I now truly believe that online communities can mean the world for people, one posting and one person at a time. And I hope, despite the brutally sensationalistic Internet headlines we’re cursed with nowadays, we never forget about the real undercurrent of good humanity that flows throughout the ‘net.

  • Reflecting upon a wonderful man — the late Paul Simon

    It was with great sadness that I read about the death of Senator Paul Simon.

    Though always a fan of his thoughtful politics and respectful demeanor, I particularly have fond memories of the time I met him in person one chance evening.

    I was on a Northwestern University dorm-sponsored scavenger hunt back in the early 90’s, and while traversing the cold streets of downtown Chicago, one fellow in our team of eight shouted out “That’s Paul Simon! Senator Simon!” It was a joyous outburst one might hear upon a sighting of celebrity, or an old friend, or a school teacher one cheerfully remembered. Especially to residents of Illinois, I learned, Paul Simon seemed to be a bit of all of that wrapped into one.

    Along with his wife, Senator Simon — yes, wearing a bowtie, as was seemingly always the case — graciously stopped for us on the sidewalk on this wintry night, signed autographs, and posed with his arms warmly around us for a picture.

    Some people simply exude an aura of kindness and integrity, and that would clearly include the late Senator Simon.

    May he rest in peace, and may his family and close friends find strength and happiness in the memories of his life.

  • On being being universally loved… or not.

    One of the hardest things I’ve had to face is the fact that it’s very difficult — and perhaps not necessarily optimal — to be liked, much less loved by everyone, all the time.

    This may seem like an especially obvious notion, but hear me out 😉

    There’s this one fellow I know who is pretty prominent in one of my social circles who is universally loved. I’m not exaggerating.

    I’ve heard a lot of gossip in my day, but I’ve heard not one single iota of negativity in conjunction with this fellow’s name.

    His colleagues adore him. Women adore him. Guys worship him.

    He’s revered in person and given standing ovations. He’s consistently praised and admired in online communities as well.

    He has, seemingly, achieved the impossible — he’s universally loved.

    —

    I, on the other hand, have both my fans and my detractors. I’ve been lauded as a friendly, giving person… and also vilified as a “fucking idiot” and “immensely annoying.”

    Some of the negativity stems from my penchant for taking stands, for speaking my mind regularly and on a broad array of topics. By nature of being vocally opinionated, I’ve managed to aggravate and occasionally alienate those who strongly hold opposing views.

    And that’s what’s particularly fascinating about the Universally Loved fellow. He keeps his mouth shut. Undoubtedly he shares his opinions and his feelings with those close to him, but for the rest of the populace, he smiles, asidiously avoids getting involved in any controversies or debates, and thus continues living and loving unscathed and unencumbered by negativity.

    What a brilliant man.

    And if I could go back and live my life over again, perhaps I’d choose his path. Would you?

    In the meantime, I have at least resigned myself to the reality that it is too late for me to be universally loved. I must instead just appreciate the friendships and admiration I’ve cultivated and earned, and gracefully accept the controversies and disdain I’ve brought upon myself through my outspokenness.

    In the meantime, I’m working to develop thicker skin… while still not dulling my sensitivity and positive outlook on the world. Alas, that’s not always easy, is it?

  • Misery, snarkiness, and an unexpected apology

    A few weeks ago, I posted a note on a prominent swing board urging dancers to “Just Say No” when they really don’t feel like dancing with someone. The gist of my note was as follows:


    […] I’d like to go against conventional wisdom and practice and urge people to say NO when asked to dance if saying yes would result in misery for both dancers.
    With regards to the three awful dances I had recently, in each case, the follow accepted my invitation quite reluctantly. Maybe she just learned that her pet poodle died, maybe I look like her abusive ex-boyfriend, or maybe she was just really, really tired. But it doesn’t matter. In each case, her movements and expression while dancing with me evoked images of someone cleaning the bathrooms of Grand Central Station with their tongue, and boy, was that painful (dancing with her, but yeah, undoubtedly the imagery, too).
    If these women had simply said, “No,” the following would have happened:
    – We’d both have been saved several minutes of unpleasantness.
    – We’d have had the opportunity to likely ENJOY several minutes of blissful dancing with a different partner (or a bit of blissful rest). […]

    One of the key acknowledgments in my note was the fact that saying no to a dance request is largely considered taboo in the Lindy Hop scene. My note was an effort to try to turn the tide and make it socially acceptable to turn someone down… in particular, when the alternative is an unpleasant dance for both people.

    —

    To my great surprise AND mortification, I received an e-mail in response to my now-very-active “Just Say No” thread… from one of the very women with whom I had such a miserable dance.

    When I read the first few words of the note, indicating that this was one of the people that had incited me to write the somewhat-nasty note, I shuddered in unpleasant anticipation of what she had to say in the rest of her note.

    “Adam, you’re really an asshole. Maybe if you learned to be a better dancer, or smelled nicer, you’d have decent dances and you wouldn’t have to whine on a message forum.”

    or

    “What nerve you have complaining about our dance in public! Not only will I not dance with you ever again, but none of my friends will either. You’re certainly not welcome back [in this city].”

    —

    No, instead, this is what she wrote:


    Hey Adam,
    I am that girl that looked like she would rather have a root canal than dance (by the way, the analogy was really funny but true) :-). I apologise for making it so miserable for you. I knew I should have said no but like it was stated in the thread, social politeness sometimes rules out.
    Again, I am so sorry that it was that horrible (and I knew it was when we finished) and after the eternal song finished I quit dancing for the whole night and turned down about two other dancers before leaving (I should have quit sooner, huh.) Hopefully I can make it up to you some other time.
    Hope you have more great dances,

    [her name]

    —

    I was completely stunned. And largely speechless.

    I took a few moments to gather my thoughts, and sent her a brief but sincere thank you, noting that I, too, hoped she and I would get to ‘make up’ for the less-than-stellar dance by having a much better one in the future.

    —

    So what lessons can we take from this? The kindness of strangers, even when they’re slapped? The potential perils of posting scathing but well-meant notes on public forums? I’m not sure. But at least now I have caught my breath and my heart isn’t racing anymore 😉

  • Reunions

    I’ve just been reminded — or, more precisely — reminded to please, pretty please donate money to — my upcoming 10-year undergraduate class reunion.

    What really comes to mind, however, are some key lyrics from Chorus Line:

    And I dug right down to the bottom of my soul…
    And cried.
    ‘Cause I felt… nothing.

    I have absolutely zero interest in going to my college reunion, and I still have a horrible nagging guilt about it, despite the less-than-stellar experience I had with my ten-year high school reunion.

    For some strange reason, I had been eager to attend that reunion, but I ended up being sorely disappointed. People had seemingly transformed, well, very little at all. Jocks were simply more macho, the airheads were now pregnant or three-kid’d airheads, and boring, superficial folks were, well, still boring and superficial.

    After this loser of a reunion, I asked myself two key questions:
    1) What had I really expected, after all?
    2) Had *I* really changed that little?

    Indeed, it was the latter issue that caused me the most concern.

    I thought I had changed. I was now a world-traveler… cultured, experienced, multi-degreed, and certainly more socially competent and better looking than I had been in high school (though admittedly, that wasn’t saying much).

    I was also a better listener, and eager to learn about what my classmates had done with their lives… where they had been, where they were going.

    But it turned out that most of the attendees were more interested in drinking and hanging with the same buddies they spent time with in high school… or, heck, for many of them, the same folks they continued to spend time with in all the years SINCE high school. I was, once again, an outsider.

    They were no more interested in hearing about my adventures than they were wanting to tell me about where they were in their lives. It was as if time had practically stood still, and we were all plopped into this swank room just moments after my awkward high school years.

    Indeed, the more things changed, the more things stayed the same. One particular fellow that had been a nemesis of sorts in high school had — perhaps unsurprisingly — become drunk and belligerent at the reunion. He staggered over to me and practically spat in my face, “Adam? aaaaddam?! You think you’re such hot stuff, eh? Well, I bet you’re a loser! And I’m somebody now!…” Fearing getting punched in the face, I consciously stiffled a laugh when I found out his somebody’ness stemmed from him living in the same small town we grew up in, working a menial job, and not having aged especially gracefully. He was somebody, indeed… somebody that reminded me how sorry I was to have paid the admission price and airfare to attend this otherwise wholly lackluster event.

    About the only saving grace of the night was bittersweet. One kind woman, whom I didn’t even remember from my high school days, thoughtfully offered to give me a ride back to where I was staying, and before I arrived, she noted a bit wistfully, “Adam, you’re all right. I’m really sorry I didn’t get to know you better in high school.”

    And I thought to myself… perhaps that was my problem. Back then, I had really not let myself get to know many of my fellow students, nor let them get to know me. Reunions are for rekindling old bonds, not making new ones, and… without having made all that many friends in high school, I just didn’t have much to work with in a one-night shot of glory.

    From a positive perspective, the contrast was made starker given the wonderful friends I had made in graduate school and since then. “Single serving friends” as the movie Fight Club referenced, just couldn’t compare.

    —

    I fared a bit better socially in undergrad compared to high school. Still, however, most of the friends I have now stem from grad school, my career afterwards in Germany, and my four years so far in San Francisco. Of the few folks I still keep in touch with from undergrad, I don’t even have a very strong urge to travel halfway across the country to potentially see them in person.

    So am I, after all, an anti-social loser? Should I indeed feel like a lout for not even giving a whit about my ten-year college reunion? Would I feel differently if I had a killer job or a trophy wife or a million dollar bank account, and if so, does that make me nearly as superficial as the cardboard cutouts I disdain from high school?

    All I know is… right now, I have enough to look forward to without having to commit the time and emotional energy involved in looking back. Perhaps that’s a good thing, perhaps it’s just running away from my past. But I can’t fathom the means of changing how I feel.

    I guess the only question remaining, then, is… how many others look at their reunions the same way I do? Is it a Geek thing? I wonder.

  • Now I swing both ways, and I love it!

    I don’t know exactly when the thought first occurred to me.

    But eventually I felt that it was something I really wanted, something I had to try.

    Actually, it kind of started about two months ago, with the realization that sometimes there just weren’t enough women around, and, well… I had needs.

    With so many more leads than follows in the San Francisco swing dance scene, being a lead often meant either scrambling to grab a follow, or sitting out a dance. I knew there had to be a better way.

    So a couple of months ago, I took a deep breath, and decided that for the evening’s beginning drop-in swing class, I’d assume the traditional “woman’s” role, and be a follower.

    Things went more smoothly than I anticipated, and I even thought it was pretty fun, so I braved the next hour’s intermediate drop-in class as a follower as well… and survived that, too! After having a very talented leader friend of mine twirl me around repeatedly for a bit after class without me throwing up or falling over, I decided… hey, I rather like this and I can do it!

    So this month I enrolled in a four-week beginning swing dance series with the famous Paul and Sharon just so I could get the fundamentals of following.

    —

    I don’t plan on giving up on my leading, and in fact, I’ve already signed up for a private lesson with Sharon as a lead. But as I’ve learned from this fascinating thread on the Yehoodi swing board, there are many advantages to learning to follow as a guy… not least of which is the opportunity to become a better leader.

    This comment by a talented follower / teacher in New York speaks volumes:

    As you begin to learn what followers feel you can refine your lead to be more clear, learn limits on either extreme of light and heavy, learn the difference between looking good and feeling good, and even what moves are more fun for the follower to be lead through.

    Women who become leaders usually feel amazing and look really boring. This is because they know what it feels like and usually care most about that area. Becoming a follower can help you get a little more of that in your lead.

    And when you get more of that women will line up to dance with you. Seriously! 🙂

    —

    I admit that learning to follow as a guy may seem a strange and roundabout way of becoming a better leader. And for the homophobes, it may be not only an alien but a particularly unpleasant notion. Luckily, however, I live in San Francisco, which boasts a huge number of both talented and tolerant swing dancers.

    And lest the journey of followdom seem wholly like a sacrifice to reach a desired end goal, ponder this:

    Blues dancing with one of the most talented and sexy dancers… with her leading and me following!. Oh my!

    After hearing that I was just starting to learn following, Miriam — whom I barely know and had previously met only briefly — sent me an e-mail out of the blue:

    i’ll be at 920 [a popular swing dance venue] on thursday. i can give you a few pointers if you’d like.

    miriam

    Sure enough, halfway through the dance evening, Miriam found me, immediately pulled me close, and began teaching me some fundamentals of following… feeling weight shifts, pushing my back tight against her hand, coming straight into a swingout, and absolutely, positively not anticipating anything.

    A slow blues song came on, and Miriam led me in sensual, subtle movements and a few bodyrolls. To my embarrassment, I giggled, more out of delight than nervousness. I couldn’t stop smiling because she really WAS leading me and getting me to move my body… in ways I had never done much less learned, and I had never felt anything like this. In dancing, I had always been the one in control, or at least trying to be in control. I was always required to think ahead, plan where to be, how to move my follow. As a lead I mostly had to ‘talk’ and my partner had to ‘listen.’ But with following, it’s apparently 99% about feeling and listening.

    So here I was, pressed tight against an amazing, captivating woman, and I was learning how to somehow get in touch with my feminine side. How ironic! 🙂

    Those fifteen minutes or so with Miriam flew by, and — feeling both grateful and goofy — I thanked her profusely.

    —

    One of my guy friends, who had led me earlier in the night, remarked that after my mini-lesson, I followed “tons better.” All I know is that I still feel quite aglow from those few memorable moments with Miriam. There’s something simply stunning about completely letting go and having a talented and confident (okay, and very attractive) dancer be responsible for how you move, even how you feel the music.

    So I already love being a follow. But I’m equally inspired to boost my leading skills, so my follows can feel more of what I felt with Miriam. That, in my mind, is one of the ultimate rewards of dancing… achieving a connection that enables you and your partner to forget the rest of the world for even three minutes, lost in the music, lost in each other.

  • I’m a rat

    rizzorat.jpg
    I just finished watching the zany and smile-inducing “Muppet Treasure Island” movie, and now I’m convinced that…

    Everything I Need to Know, I Learned from the Muppet, Rizzo the Rat
    – Unabashedly enjoy food… and often.
    – Be loyal and good to friends, even if you can’t quite categorize them.
    – Have a sense of humor and share it.
    – Know when to fight, know when to run.
    – Don’t think that you have to be big to be meaningful.
    – Trust your instincts.
    – Don’t be shy about loving food.

  • Haunted by words

    Yesterday evening, I was reading an emotional and heartfelt apology from a woman who was literarily sobbing her regrets. She had posted nasty thoughts about a (former) friend in an online forum, and she wishes she could take it all back.

    Two thoughts immediately came to mind:
    1) Why the heck is she posting this in a movie forum?
    2) What a moron!

    I’ve done some pretty dumb things, but I’d never be that stupid, I chuckled to myself.

    —

    This afternoon I was chatting with an old acquaintance over instant messages, and he asked if I had contact info for a fellow dancer.

    Sure, I said, I know Lolli and I have her e-mail address. I don’t know her well, but yeah, she seems nice and all, yadda yadda.

    “Uh, Adam,” he wrote, after a long pause, “She’s not exactly one of your fans.”

    It took a reminder from my acquaintance and several minutes for stuff to sink in to recall exactly why this woman was not particularly fond of me.

    About a year ago, I had posted a public note about a clique’ish group of friends who met at a venue I used to frequent. Though not scathingly nasty, I wasn’t exactly kind, either. I pride myself on being honest, after all!

    But what did it matter? I knew everyone posting on this particular online message board, and they were either my friends or generally people I couldn’t care less about.

    That was the rub, of course. As any person with half-a-megabyte of brain power knows… for every one person who posts on a board, there are at least twenty lurkers. Lolli is one of those lurkers. So are her friends. So are some of my acquaintances that were now all-too-aware of my petty side.

    Let’s just say that I’m sure not to be very welcomed back at that “clique’ish” venue, even a year later.

    “Women have long memories,” I grumbled to my instant messenger acquaintance.

    “It’s not about women,” he corrected. “The Internet has a long memory, Adam.”

    That it does.

    And what a painful lesson to have hit home.