December 5th, 2003

hug tree


I noticed that as of yesterday I am on 300 people's friends lists! YAY!

People on livejournal look at friends lists differently... some aren't thrilled with the idea of 300 random weirdos peering into their lives expecting attention back. I don't really look at it like that. Life is like an operating system... the happiest ones are bazaars, not a cathedrals, the more people you can get involved, the better. Should you expect attention back? Eh, if I notice someone commenting a lot I try to read their journal. I definately have filters set up all over the place and use the famous friends-poll method to set some of those up.

A few months ago I let my website members interview me, and one of my favorite questions had to do with what I like the most about life, and I can tell you it's stuff like this. Not always on the internet, in real life too, but things always get bigger and better. More books I've read, more movies I've seen, more airplanes delivered, more addresses, clothes, miles I've run, birthdays I've had. More new stuff. More excitement. And although I value the past a great deal, it's definately not what I live for, especially as I get older. I'm getting more into moving on and admitting I can't keep in touch with every friend or keep every book on the shelf right beside me. It's a small percent that gets retained but it's worth it. The universe is a huge but wonderful place and I'd take it over in a second if I could.

the clip zen

At work today I decided to get some paper clips and lots of them. Here's the deal: we are engineers, we do drawings. When we get done, we paperclip all the drawing pages together. Then we paperclip the pages with pages from other drawings. Then we send the drawings, and the paperclips, to another building, and nothing ever comes back to us, it goes to vaults and secret places and the company intranet. consequently we are perpetually running out of paperclips; there's a void, a guzinta that doesn't equal a guzouta as we like to say in systems design.

So it was obvious to me that somewhere in the company there's got to be this place where all the paperclips go... a paperclip room, maybe, a paperclip vault, a giant magnet that they're all stuck to, a room that the supply managers go swimming in when they want an adventure. It's the only explination... paperclips are leaving our office at an incredible rate, so they must be arriving somewhere else.

So while routing some of my own stuff I started asking people... "Do you have to take any paperclips off before you send this on?" another department. another step. finally I got to the step where the paperclips are pulled off, it was at the desk of a woman named patricia who I'd met before. I asked if she had paperclips. She had a drawer with lots of paperclips. She gave me a torn up nasty little box and filled it with paperclips until it wouldn't hold any more, and I took them back to my desk in the other building.

Patricia's problem was that she receives thousands of paperclips, but no bags. The entire process falls apart... there's the break in the cycle. Sometimes she finds a bag, puts paperclips in it, and sends it to the supply room, but usually she just has too many other things to think about and not enough bags anyway. trash bags would be horrible for paperclips, it'd take paper bags probably, and who in an office has paper bags anymore?

There's some great metaphor for life here... all these paperclips, stranded with no way to get back, not really important enough to worry about anyway, but we still need them and they all add up and we definately notice when they're gone. There's a cycle here... money comes in, airplanes go out, that's the big cycle. But there are little cycles too. Little circles we don't notice. Little chains we can't break. It's all the world is. it's office supply karma.

it's zen... I'm going to get some giant zen-like container and fill it with paperclips and achieve all balance in life.