Life-crafting

Both eyes wide open

Watching as the world unfolds

A baby learning
JB 06/24/11
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Shelly is watching the movie ‘Babies’ on Netflix.  We watched this when it was in the theatre, and I didn’t much care for it.  I had expected more narration and purpose, but really it's simply a movie where the differences in lifestyle are allowed to speak for themselves and contrast with the similarities of the development each child undergoes.  Watching it now, I think that is the better choice.  It’s still not a movie that I would recommend to others on a regular basis, but it succeeds in painting a picture.

Sometimes I find myself trying to logically think through the ideal parenting style, as if there is a specific methodology that will assist me in raising the perfect child (when we have one).  It’s a failing of mine to overanalyze. On the bright side, I might still be painting apartments for a boss on work release from prison if I didn’t fret over such details.  Still, while there is value in being prepared and thoughtful before deciding to have a child, there are times (like now) when I recognize the truth that my idea of a perfect upbringing would be a handicap.

Watching this movie, you see clearly how stark the contrast is between brightly colored books, toys, or baby yoga; and being outside, playing in the dirt, or being leashed to the couch while your parents are out working.

We humans, though mere mortals, are yet capable of withstanding a wide array of circumstances, from extreme depravity to extreme excess.  We are equally capable of overcoming nearly any parental disorder, from neglect to the unique brand overzealous life-crafting that myself and my society are prone to.  It really solidifies in my mind the resilience of the human form and I sort of feel like the only things that matter are trying, paying attention, and giving your children a wealth of different experiences so that they are comfortable in a variety of settings.  The rest of it they'll manage themselves, never knowing the difference.

An echo coming back, reverberating softer now

I'm in a mood to write this evening, which usually means that my mind will flit from topic to topic and fail to bear fruit.  We'll see what I come up with, but for now I am lifting this post from my Facebook notes, titled 'October came like an echo.' 

Nostalgia hit me, so distant, like longing for a memory of a feeling and not the feeling itself. I remember being little, that much I recall.  I know I jumped in leaf piles because someone told me it would be fun, and I know that it wasn’t.  I remember climbing a tree and collecting a bowl of buckeyes for show and tell, and the epic foot-race against my best friend Derrick.  I remember bike rides so risky that I was actually hit by a car twice, though fights with Derrick caused far more injury.  I remember the tree swing that would always break and the big-tire sand box that I could jump over in a single leap.  I don’t know why the sound and smell of crunching leaves reminds me of 1507 Cincinnati Street, and I don’t know Derrick anymore – but I do still dream of bonfires with my family, and the backyard we sold. - JB 10/20/10

I think of Derrick often, actually.  He was my first best friend, and stayed one long after his mother moved out of his grandparents house next door.  We wandered the neighborhood with a freedom I don't expect I will ever permit to my own children, though I think it left us a real(er) childhood than many.


One of the comments on Facebook said that this writing made them sad for the loss of childhood and relationships never fully developed.  Not surprisingly, that poster gets me.  She is my mother.

Sadness booms softly

This has marked the first week in nearly three years that I have not counted myself as a Grant Thornton employee, and sadness has been heard booming since Monday.

As an explanation to the as-yet-uninitiated, contrary to common practice I contend that booming is best when understated.  A man who believes in his boom doesn't need to sell it with volume or other dramatic elements.  A confident man simply announces to the world that something went boom.  If people determine to doubt reality, what does that matter to him?

Booming softly, therefore, is a grand business full of flair in its understated simplicity.

Don't get me wrong, I do not regret my decision to leave the land of mobius and dynamism.  I chose the life less dynamic, and my comfort with that decision has only grown with time.  I did not, however, make the decision lightly, and it wasn't easy despite that it was a foregone conclusion (being with my wife comes before, well, anything else).  The simple fact of the matter is that one cannot have everything.  In choosing to leave Grant Thornton, I left behind a job and people I enjoyed, and I will likely never again work in a company of it's nature.

Public accounting has its perks.  Advancement and responsibility come quickly, training is prevalent, you get exposure to high levels of management, and you work with people who are very much of your age and general background.  It's also a decent investment in your career because companies value the experience.

In the end, though, unless you are a "lifer", (and there are some), it eventually becomes a case of "The Royal Nonesuch."  The hours and the stress are too high for the pay.  Everybody has one foot out the door but they lie about it because they don't want to be the only person who "gets had" by staying too long.

My new job is exciting... and challenging... and ends at roughly 5:00pm everyday.  I work for a large company in an industry I respect, there are perks, and I will continue to learn and grow.  Sadness definitely boomed softly when I saw that my email was jblack4, but the quirkiness of having a number in my email address is rather irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

Relaxing at home may not be as dynamic as solving the world one financial statement audit at a time, but it's the life I choose.  I am happy to spend time with my wife and to have time for thinking deeply, even if such thinking is simply wistful memories of spending too much time in conference rooms with friends.