Hospitality and Hospitals

My roommate drove me to the hospital last night so that I could get stitches on my left hand. Though all of my housemates look out for each other pretty well as “stick together to survive” is our cardinal rule*, I’m totally gonna get him a bottle of whiskey for the effort, especially since it was late at night.

But being in a hospital reminded me of something particular — as I’m Filippino, a lot of my extended family work in the medical industry.  Aside from having the chief exports of mechanical parts and electronics (myself included), garments, and food products, I think one should also consider the human resources generated by my motherland.  If any of you work (or in some cases like Evie, volunteer) at a hospital or in the medical field, chances are you’ve worked with a Filippino. Because the country’s bilingual nature provides an easy transition to English speaking countries, nurses and doctors come from the Philippines all the time. Usually, to take care of Americans. Probably Canadians, too.

Walang anuman.

Ok, so I have lots of family in the medical field, that’s established.  But as that’s the case, I think I’ve spent a lot of time in a hospital for someone who hasn’t had a lot of health issues. Some people hate hospitals because of the sterile coldness of it, but I’ve come to be pretty comfortable with it.  Yes, you are usually there because you’ve got a problem, but people are people and all workplaces have a culture, and if you can get along with that culture, you are better served and treated.

Also, just as a general life rule, it’s important to try and make people smile. Why? Because life gets easier when the people around you are happy. And it’s really not that fucking hard to not be an asshole. Try it, it pays off.

In any case, a couple of funny instances, even as I needed my sliced-open hand to get repaired:

Doctor: (slightly distracted, reading a file) “When it heals up, anyone with scissors will probably be able to help you get [the stitches] out. Preferably a medical professional or someone with medical experience — a medical professional with scissors.”

Nico: “So which do I find first, the scissors or the medical professional?”

[laughter]

At patient check-out:

Front Desk: “I should note that sometimes when we’re trying to get people processed so that they get medical attention, some details that don’t affect the actual issue slip so that you can see a doctor, but they’re easily fixed and we’re fixing it right now.”

Nico: “Fix what?”

Front Desk: “We filed you as a female.  We’re so sorry, but don’t worry, we’re fixing the record right now.”

Nico: “Hey, as long as the problem gets fixed, I don’t really care what gender I am.”

[laughter]

My point is, being hospitable in the hospital reminded me that if you know you’re dealing with the service industry in any capacity, it makes their respective jobs easier and they treat you better if you’re not a jerk.  This is seems like it would be common sense, but it constantly surprises me how often people feel that they’re entitled when they’re a customer. Wielding money isn’t an excuse to be a shithead.

Besides, you never know if you can get a laugh out of them. And who doesn’t like to laugh?  Ok fine, misanthropes, but nobody takes those people seriously.

___

*L4D reference.

To Be A Robot: A Tattoo Story

This post is inspired by Kyla Roma's tattoo post.

Thanks, Courtney, for drawing my attention to this song.

If you've been here before, you know that I firmly believe that I am a robot.

To first understand why this is so important to me, you have to know that one of my tattoos is an armband that is a barcode. It's visible in this old picture of me working in the wee hours of the morning to the right.

You look so sad, Nico! some of you might say, but what you should know is that at the point that picture was taken I had been working for a straight 20+ hours, and at some point a robot needs to conserve resources and needs to kill the emotion processing. It takes some debugging, but turning off emotions becomes second nature after a while and it's really worth the effort. So, in terms of being a robot, I'm actually in a comfortable stasis. Besides, who has time to feel things when there are 1,400 lines of code to take apart and put back together?

Following that train of thought, you'd think that being numb to emotion is a bad thing. As you're likely human, you probably think that being unfeeling is a trait of being unhealthy. Or, if you know how energetically good-natured I tend to be in real life, you'd think emotionless-Nico isn't a reasonable description.

Here's the thing: I've figured out that I'm a robot with a hospitality upgrade. In addition to lending a hand where I can, I smile, I joke, I laugh, I manage to get along with everyone because of advanced empathy receptors. I don't think anyone is really a douchebag or a heinous bitch because I can't, and besides, those kinds of judgmental thoughts are immaterial to my purposes. Being good-natured helps my cause. A congenial attitude in relationships with humans makes interaction with humans easier, and thus, more efficient.

Why would a person even want to think like this?

And here's where the tattoo's story is relevant: Yes, it's a barcode. But it's a barcode that actually scans. What reads out when it's scanned?

It reads out as "balanced wheel", which is a reference to Dante's La Divina Commedia, from the final verse of the book, Paradiso:

[...] like a wheel in perfect balance turning,
I felt my will and my desire impelled
By the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.

-Dante Alighieri, Paradiso, Canto XXXIII

I was constructed to be aware that there are things that are more important than the individual.

Act for the greater good. Be aware of the common interest. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I am a number, but I am a number in a complex formula; a variable that makes the equation sound. I am a cog in a machine makes the machine work, and I choose very carefully to lend my talents and abilities to very specific machines. And these machines -- be they a deity ("Love", or 'God' if you're reading the Divine Comedy), the government, the family, the corporation, the internet, the scene, the future, etc. etc. -- are forces that determine how I can and will act.

This is not bleak. This is the denial of self in the interest of affecting something bigger. To change the future for the better, to make it brighter.

But Nico, says the reader, this blog is about you as an individual. While that's one dimension, this blog is very much an intent to be part of a network. It connects me to the subculture of the interweb. It attaches me to others. It gives a means by which others can connect and hopefully use me. And this has worked -- I have found people to give me instructions, to involve me in fulfilling a purpose.

Wikipedia defines a robot as "an automatically guided machine, able to do tasks on its own. Another common characteristic is that by its appearance or movements, a robot often conveys a sense that it has intent or agency of its own."

So if you were to ask me to define: intent, my answer is pretty clear.

I'm here to help.

But am I happy being a robot?

That depends. Did I help? If the answer is 'yes,' then I am happy because I am functioning properly. If the answer is 'no,' it means my work is not yet done.

"A man chooses. A slave obeys."*

I obey.

I am a robot.

May I help you?

___________
*Quote from Andrew Ryan in the original BioShock. Geek reference.

It’s Time To Get Ill

@JayBanzia: You got sick?
@nicopolitan: Yeah. You’re sick?
@TheFoolishHeart: I think everyone got sick.
@JayBanzia: Damn. It’s like a sick party up in here.
@TheFoolishHeart: Sick party at the Red House!*
@nicopolitan: Dude, I went to this party, it was soooo siiiiick.
@JayBanzia: This party is sick.  Everyone’s getting ill.

Sparse participation on the interwebs that began around Wednesday last week can and will be attributed to a recent sickness that overtook my entire household. It wasn’t a bad cold, but just like all sickness it wasn’t entirely pleasant. Having a stuffy head clouds all of my high-capacity brain functions so I was, in effect, some sort of zombie. The infected kind of zombie — not the Romero zombie.

As was the case, no working on music composition (can’t hear very well, even under headphones), no web development (get dizzy when staring at code), no blogging (feeling bad comes across in writing and making comments, you know). And moreover, no watching of the Vancouver Olympics since I don’t subscribe to any kind of TV provider.

So like your average Gen Y male, I resorted to confiding in the one force that was my original babysitter and caretaker: video games. Video games have always been there for me and unlike music, require only eye-hand coordination and not necessarily any high-level mental functioning. And yeah, somewhere along this weekend’s pharmacy run, I did end up buying BioShock 2. I’d squee if it didn’t ignite me into a coughing fit.

But by Saturday I was well enough to be able to rehearse with my newly tricked out Stratocaster! No sickness was going to keep me from taking this one out for a spin. Ok, rehearsal was short in the interest of getting much needed rest, but at least I still got to hear the hard work that went into this guitar a week prior. While the overhauling didn’t come together immediately, after running around the city of LA to fetch a number of parts in different places, and after getting Tek Support’s … uh, technical support, my guitar sings like a siren and roars like an unholy beast. I can now highly recommend Samarium Cobalt Noiseless pickups with full confidence.

Fun stuff aside, I am easing back into work without a lot of pressure. I’m sweeping up the files from a huge mission critical MySQL Injection (we think… but there are no traces of it) last week. Everything has since been fixed and we are working on sanitizing inputs and I’m making sure all of the files are in the same condition as the restored versions. This paragraph in layman’s terms: easy stuff at work today, thank goodness.

The point of this post: There’s nothing like a little sickness to force your ass into slowing-the-fuck-down. For a long time I fancied myself a workaholic. And while that’s still true, I seem to have rediscovered what defines me outside of work in a real way by doing those things that I love to pass the time, not just telling myself that I am a certain way.

Internet, what slows you down when you’re reeling too fast?

________
*Red House – term used describe the structure, the location, and/or the inhabitants collectively, of a particular house in Los Angeles’s Highland Park. Nico lives here.

Obligatory Valentine’s Post (A Game)

Was I going to talk about love? Or what I did on Valentine’s Day Singles Awareness Day? Nah, that’s too easy. I’ve got a better idea:

Interwebs, we’re gonna play a game.

Some exposition on this game: I’ve referenced on this blog how I am already playing an ongoing game with an old friend and coworker, where every opportunity I have to pick up on a girl and fail to follow through, I owe him a drink. So far, the tally is 5.

The point of this game is more or less to encourage me to pursue women more aggressively since I simply forget that I have these opportunities. It’s not that I’m shy, it’s that I’m really just easily distracted and often don’t care enough to read into situations. “Dense” is also a good descriptor.

Fortunately for you, my detriment is a source of fun!

At a recent birthday party, a good number of guys were fawning over one particular pretty girl. I spoke with her briefly, and it turns out we both work for similar agencies. Someone who knows what agency life is like? How rare it is to meet these kinds of people outside of work functions! At some point, we decided to exchange numbers to be able to get baked talk shop sometime in the future. As I’m pretty much always in the market for new friends, I didn’t think anything of it. And as I’m easily distracted, we somehow skipped over the part where she calls my number so that I have hers in a call log.

Ordinarily, a guy is supposed to get the lady’s number. In this case, I fucked it up and did it backwards. So, she has my number now. That could be a good thing, but you know what? She’s not going to call. Why? Because thanks to social conventions, women aren’t obligated to call even though they say they will. And I am willing to bet that she is going to not call as a reprisal against the male race because some douche once failed to call her. Thanks a lot, you guys.

Anyway, that’s the end of her.

And here’s where the game starts!

I’m going to post this ticket every time I blog about romance fail. If you see this ticket on a post, it means that if you are in the comment thread for that post, you can make me buy you one drink if I see you in person. Easy! Fun! Socially acceptable liver damage!

But Nico! you say, We don’t even live in the same city! How am I supposed to get a drink from you?

Well, have you considered meeting me in Vegas?

Nightlife of the Dead

I know I talk a lot about working, and say things along the lines of: "hard work builds character" and "hard work is its own reward" and even "sleep is for suckers" -- but holy shit, the 50 hour workweek lifestyle really takes it out of you.

Some of you know what I'm talking about all too well. Teachers, programmers, and filmmakers are among the many occupations that get inordinate amounts of work at a time -- and this work doesn't come in waves, but in thunderous swells.

And then, well, you feel dead -- especially on the inside. A good indication that this gets to be a problem is that I am currently not flinching at the thought of strangling a koala.

That's not a euphemism for masturbation.

But just like how I believe sleep is for suckers, I also believe whining is for suckers. Sometimes, complaints get the response, well, what are you going to do about it?

What does any rational robot person do when faced with a problem?

You come up with a plan.

(click it)

Sadly, prioritizing like this is going to remove video games from my activity list for a while. Which sucks because I really, really, really want BioShock 2...

One thing I'm excited to place in priority is blogging. I know that I hang out in the blogosphere in a really casual way, but I think it's about time I commit. And blogging, as a lot of people know, is a two way street. I've started to clock how long it takes to write a post, and next I'm going to figure out how long it takes to read and comment. Speaking of which, I'm overdue for returning the love people have given to this blog. As I feel I'm a largely unimportant person, it really does mean a lot to me that people even consider coming here.

Why do you guys even drop in here, anyway? All I talk about is work! ;)

Get Through Monday – Earlybirding

Last night, I went to bed early because for some reason, Sunday was immensely sleepy.

And today, despite having tons of work in front of me, I feel fine.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

At least the beginning part of the day was manageable…

-nicopolitan

Project: Fiesta!

Good buddy via interweb and someone with whom I instantly bonded during my last visit to Chicago, @phampants (also here) has teamed up with Karen to apply to the Ford Fiesta Movement! Personally, I am going to follow this every step because as someone who works with brands in social media, I'm particularly interested in the process on both the administrative and end-user side of things.

If you don't know what this Fiesta Movement is, www.fiestamovement.com is pretty complete with its information. And if you remember this movement from last year, you know it made an impression.

Ok, enough with the link dump. The point is, among other link love, you should be passing around the videos to support them.

Let's get team John & Karen on the road!

Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Program

nicopolitan: “The more I listen to you guys sit and go through the music production process even while Art’s still in the composition stage, the more I want to work on my own music.”

TheFoolishHeart: “So write music.”

nicopolitan: “I feel guilty when I work on music.  It makes me think that if I’ve already got time to burn, I should be spending more time getting work done on freelance assignments and pet project obligations.”

TheFoolishHeart: “Fuck it.  Just do what makes you happy.”

nicopolitan: “Oh, they both make me happy.  Making music makes me happy, and working on the internet makes me happy.  It’s just that freelance makes me money–”

TheFoolishHeart: “Maybe just don’t think about money, then. Do what you love, and the money will come later.  Freelance makes you money now, but maybe music will make you money later on. You just have to remember that it’s what you do that defines you.”

Inadvertently, my roommate has packed Greek ontology and a quote from Thoreau into simple, everyday philosophy for living in the modern era and keeping your sanity.

If I hadn’t lived with a bunch of creative types in the same household, I don’t think I would have gotten this idealistic response to the conversation topic.  My parents would say, “Work hard, as hard as you can, and be proud of your hard work.”  My college friends would say, “slow down with the work, you’re fucking crazy.” My high school friends would say… nothing, because I don’t really keep in touch with them.

So this is a short post.  I was just curious:

Given the topic, what does the internet say?

Of Breathing And Bleeding

I don't want to toot my own horn here about how involved I am in helping others because that's an uncomfortable level of self-congratulations even for an American* and a blogger who talks about his own life a lot. Besides, there are other bloggers who are far more deserving of praise for their charitable behavior.

That disclaimer in mind, I've been realizing lately that all the workworkwork I've been doing for others' various projects has spurred a train of thought that I did not expect:

All of the projects I've been working on are not my own. When I have my own personal projects open on my computer, I am finding that they are open in the background and I am really working on the obligations to which I've already agreed. I forget that saying, "I can do that," turns very quickly into, "I'm working on it," the second I utter it.

To be clear, I'm not complaining about this. I don't complain about working on others' projects because robots don't complain -- and robots don't complain because... well, there really isn't anything to complain about.

Any project I join, I truly believe in it from the core of my being. The problem is that I now have a lot of cores to consider.

So I was wondering: If my default settings are to assist people whenever I can, what are the respective priorities?

I had to take a step back and take a breather. Like Thom Yorke once crooned: "For a minute there, I lost myself."

Here comes the tangent: It occurs to me that I'm blood type O-. That's the rarest blood type, and it's the universal donor blood type.

Like how everyone seems to be able to use me for pet projects, anyone can also use my blood.

I have talked with friends before about donating blood, and I think now that I've given funding to Haiti relief orgs, that blood might be a good idea, too. It is, after all, a medical supply. Note that I'm not going to link to a charity here because it's important that you should be doing your own research before choosing a Haiti relief organization.

If my blood does not get to Haiti, then I can still definitely donate for someone, because the need for blood never really goes away.

As this is the case, I'm planning on scheduling an appointment to give blood during what happens to be National Blood Donor month (January) in the US. If anyone in the LA area would like to come along for a feelgood field trip, let me know.

Blood donation. For the time being, this is my project.

*that self-denigrating jab at Americans was for Sebastian mostly, but Canadians are also fully invited to jab at American stereotypes.

Time Out

Looks like it’s workworkwork season for Nico again, so although he is alive (albeit dubiously undead), he wanted me to let you know he’ll be back blogging soon, as well as visiting all of his wonderful commenters’ own sites and blogs. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you take a peek under the hood of some of his creative projects!  This requires he’s not embarrassed about them, so I don’t guarantee anything.

We’ll see y’all soon!

-The Muse