Christmas Presence, the Ghost of Yet to Come

Last year, my brother wrote a piece entitled "Delta Junction Christmas Eves."  In it, he recounts fond childhood memories from Christmas Eves.  In many ways, they are memories from my childhood as well.  When I first read it, it bothered me.  It was not that the holidays lacked the "magic" he talked about, but that I would not describe any of my memories as magical.  I immediately set out to write a post entitled, "Christmas, for the Rest of Us," but I had a hard time finding a way to write about memories that were not magical, but...normal.  I did not post what I eventually wrote and called, "Post-Delta Christmases," because I was worried about coming across too negatively in contrast to the glowing comments his post was receiving.  Over this Thanksgiving, I wrote a piece that I posted with trepidation for the same reasons, as it hit some of the same thoughts, which met much positive feedback.  With some editing and updating, I decided to revisit that draft, and humbly acknowledge that I have no idea what is touching, and what is my negative ranting.

First, I begin with Christmas as a child.  Kids in America become rabid with excitement for Christmases and birthdays.  I was not immune to this, and I have heard stories about my early rising on Christmas morning at least three times every Christmas since the first occurrence.  While Christmas was ridiculous, to be fair to me, I was an early riser the other 364 days of the year too.  I also got excited about Santa Claus, and held onto the belief for far too long.  If nothing else, this was a sound lesson in skepticism.  Why was I so excited?  I liked decorations, and I liked the excitement of a holiday.  I liked the brightly colored lights in a dark and cold Alaskan winter.  I liked hauling a tree (the bigger the better) into the house, and decorating it (though I was often conflicted about killing a living thing for short-lived amusement).  I also liked getting gifts.  I would seek out the hiding places of gifts, and honed pretty adept skills at guessing gifts (a skill that flummoxed my family, prompting them to wrap all my gifts inside puzzles one year).  I also enjoyed giving gifts, but that is what has changed for me with age.

As a (Christmas celebrating) child, "big" items come twice a year, at your birthday and on Christmas.  Were this still the case (as an adult), I would be out of my mind with excitement for these two days.  Now though, when I want something big, I go buy it.  I might have to save money for a while, but essentially, I want something, I buy it. No waiting for Christmas, no hoping it will show up on my birthday.  If I do not buy it, I rank it as low importance given the cost.  Holiday gifts have become things that I want, but do not want urgently enough to buy myself.  In response, gift-giving holidays have become about the giving.  As an adult, I have to work very hard to wait until Christmas to give the gifts I have for people, and often just give inspired gifts for the pure joy of giving.

Other things have changed too.  The biggest thing that has changed is that Christmas has become less important to me.  When I am in certain places in my life, I do cling to memories of years past, and traditions to lean on, and I do like an orange in the toe of the red stocking my grandmother made for me.  Yet, with every season, there is less need for me to be steeped in tradition.  I, unlike many people, do not seem to relish looking back.  Instead, Christmas cards I write to lovers have evolved with every year to forward looking.  Sure, I like to reflect on what has brought me to this point with them, but the solstice and the new year are times of looking forward.  These are times for me to dream of a future that will probably never be, not long for a past that probably never was.

In the book series beginning with Ender's Game, the chief protagonist, Ender becomes the Speaker for the Dead.  He is motivated to do this because he perceives that people make memories better than they were, particularly those involving people who have just died.  Ender feels this is a huge affront to the actual life of the person.  At first, it seems odd to think about, if someone was a jerk in life, is that really the most honorable way to remember them?  Reflecting on this, it become obvious that remembering a person accurately is honoring them, and remembering them the way you want them to have been is not.  In my view, memories of the past are like this as well.

Recalling only the best of memories cheapens how great they were.  Altering memories to make life feel warm and fuzzy cheapens the present.  It does feel good, and most people do not want to recall times that are negative, but I do.  Jason once accused me of "thriving in negativity."  My dad, much to his later shame (sorry to bring it up), once asked Jason if he "needed a calculator to wipe your ass too"?  When he went searching for a calculator to find the square root of 169.  I was often ungrateful at Christmas.  I fought with Jason.  I have disappointed many people.  I have said many unkind words to, about, and with malice towards people.  No great one line examples come to mind, but the "negative" memories have made me who I am, probably more than the good memories.  That said, I  usually do not want to dwell on them, particularly at the holidays.

That is why this is a time when I want forgiveness as freely (which is not very freely) as I offer it.  The only way I can do that is by looking forward.  To those I have hurt in the past, I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, and hope you have found new people more deserving of your company.  While I honestly value the good and the bad moments that got me here, right now, I want to think of all the good that is possible for the future.

Happy present day, happy holidays, and happy new year from Faux Social.

A Case for Logical Weapons Control

My Friday was spent reading and watching updates from Newtown, and I think a lot of people felt fear, anger, and tremendous sadness at the news.  On The News Hour that evening, Mark Shields gave an impassioned review of gun laws in the United States, a view he started formulating as a Marine.  David Brooks suggested that we need a more rounded approach.  My brother sent me a text comparing American's reaction to gun violence, to the Kiwi's reaction when a bus load of children died on their unsafe roads, short-lived sadness, followed by apathy and acceptance as part of the price of living t/here.

Over the weekend, there were vigils, some political, some religious.  Others said it was not the time for politics, and I think many people were surprised, myself included, at how political President Obama's Sunday night speech was.  The funerals have begun, and I think now is the time for discussion.  Rather than letting the victims suffer in vain, the best memorial we can give the families of the slain is action to ensure that the Founding Father's vision of this country is upheld.

Many blog posts on the internet are full of anger.  If you want those, please look elsewhere.  Many are educated perspectives on what this type of violence does to the image and idea of America.  The New Yorker has several wonderful pieces, including a fantastic perspective from China. Though I do not want to recreate rants about where we are, I cannot resist a few chiding remarks.  I think they establish my position, and I think it is most fair to say them at the beginning.  It may not be the most persuasive way to write, because some readers will become angry with me, and I think that is probably okay.  If you just want my thoughts on the solution, please feel welcome to skip the next two paragraphs.  

It seemed everyone had condolences to offer the families of the victims, except the NRA.  The NRA backed by just over 1% of Americans has an official policy to refuse to discuss gun violence.  So stubborn are they in this policy that they very nearly refuse to acknowledge that firearm violence happens at all.  So reckless are they in their acceptance of the deaths caused by firearms, their supporters attack the CDC for keeping track of mortality rates in this country.  I expect more from the NRA and its members.  It is your right, as and American, to argue that the slaughter of 20 children is a fair price to pay to be able to saunter into a "show," and buy a device designed solely for the killing of people any day of the year.  It, however, is completely unacceptable to remain silent when so many are suffering.  The NRA could have posted a statement that read something like this; "Our thoughts are with the people of Newtown today.  It is reprehensible that people behave in this manner, and we offer our support to those suffering."  Later they could tout that their firearms safety programs help make responsible firearms owners, they could create a program that made gun locks and safes affordable to people who feel they can afford a several hundred dollar weapon, but not a ten dollar lock for its trigger.  The NRA could be part of the solution to violence and death, but instead, through their silence, they choose to condone murder.

Accusations also went spewing from the minions of the weapons lobby that someone with a concealed weapon was at the Oregon shopping mall.  Some even went as far as calling this person a hero.  First, details about this person are unclear in the media, so I may have some details incorrect, but it would seem that he did not turn his weapon into the police as evidence, nor turn himself in as part of the crime scene.  He, according to him, drew a weapon in public, this requires a police investigation of its own, no matter his motivation.  Second, it would seem, according to police, that a weapon malfunction, not some guy hiding behind a pillar, caused the Oregon gunman to retreat.  Third, a hero risks their own life and safety for the benefit of others.  Their bravery goes beyond expected, and becomes altruism.  Thankfully, the individual in question had the good sense not to add to the violence, but carrying a firearm in public does not make you a hero.  I go into public with the bravery given to me by the knowledge that as a civil society, we pay taxes to have a body of protectors.  Those who carry weapons in public are not heroes, they are not brave, they are cowards.

The Declaration of Independence states, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."  Over the years, society has expanded what this means, and the Founding Fathers cite many examples of how the King had been denying them these rights.  One of them does not read, "He has failed to protect children from harm by refusing to enact laws that show some effort to ensure their safety against wanton violence," but I think it probably would have if there were (essentially) unregulated weapons that enabled people to commit mass murder in school houses at the time of writing this document.  I doubt that there is an American alive, or who has ever lived, who would disagree when I say that those children were denied the unalienable Rights that this country was founded upon, principally, Life.

It is difficult to talk about laws in this country without some discussion of the Constitution.  The Constitution is a document, drafted by the Founding Fathers, to outline how they thought the country should work.  Like a club's by-laws, it was the very best guess at how a functioning government should work.  In the last 200 years, much has been changed, but like a club, the motivation has not.  The Founding Fathers did not want a strong central government, but a weak central government caused more problems than it solved, so we changed it.  The existence of a standing army was deemed necessary, but the Constitution forbade it.  That change occurred in the form of an amendment.  While an amendment, in my opinion, can change the rules on governing processes (e.g. how senators are elected) it should not change the reason we have the Constitution, and that reason is clearly outlined in the preamble.

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

One will notice that the preamble does not contain mention of the amendments, nor does it state that the provisions or amendments there of are of greater importance than the ideas of domestic Tranquility or the general Welfare.  Note the capitalization, Tranquility, Welfare and Liberty are clearly primary to defense.  In these United States of America, no amendment is paramount to the basic rights contained in this preamble.  The First Amendment does not protect those who speak hate, as that damages general Welfare.  The Second Amendment does not protect weapons designed to cause mass murder, as that is contrary to domestic Tranquility.  Making logical changes to protect the lives of children is not contrary to the Constitution, but is in keeping with the guiding thoughts of the Founding Fathers.

Before I delve into the "gun" debate, I think it should be begun with a lexicon.  I attempt to stick with these definitions, because I do not think it does much good for people to shout about guns when one side means Uzis, and the other means hunting rifles.  Gun is slang for a handheld device that performs a task.  It is, essentially, meaningless.  Firearm is a device that uses an explosive charge to propel a projectile.  Rifle is a rifled (spiraled grove), long-barreled firearm, intended to be fired from the shoulder.  Sidearms are small weapons intended to be worn at a person's side, these are generally more easily concealable, and for the purpose of this post, generally refer to a firearm.  Shotguns, revolvers, and muzzle loaders/muskets are other types of firearms, that can be easily defined through a Google search.  Weapon is a device with a primary purpose of killing people, or causing destruction.  

For those bored or confused, the important point here is that not all firearms are weapons, and not all weapons are firearms.  Perhaps, a weapon flowchart, without the word firearm would be useful, see below.

With this flowchart in mind, I want to advocate not "gun control," nor even firearms control, but rather weapons control.  Firearms are the most deadly (I think) weapon commonly available to US citizens, so will there be laws regarding firearms?  Yes.  Swords, nun-chucks, throwing stars, hand grenades, and land mines are other types of weapons.  Explosives are pretty regulated, but swords, nun-chucks and throwing stars are not.  BB guns are also not very regulated, and one can buy a fully automatic BB gun on the internet, as a BB gun is not a firearm, but an air rifle (though lacking a rifled barrel).  Is the primary purpose of a fully automatic BB gun killing people?  No, but I would say it is destruction (amusement through destruction is still destruction), and it is therefore, a weapon.  These are all things that should be regulated, but rather than start with nun-chucks, which the incidence of death by nun-chucks is too low to be known, we should probably start with the most deadly weapons.

People claim that no firearms are not deadly weapons, but I think there are some basic tests that prove this false.  First, assault weapons were designed with the intention of killing people.  The design purpose is killing people, maybe "guns don't kill people," but assault weapons, like the Bushmaster M4, which can be purchased at WalMart, enable people, by design, to kill people, lots of people.  A single-shot, bolt action rifle made for hunting is not a weapon by definition (though it can be used to kill people).

The first step in weapons control laws is to ban the most dangerous weapons, and restrict ownership of the next most dangerous types.  Those already in private ownership will be highly regulated, and the cost of proper registration should be borne by the manufacturers.  The most deadly mass murder at a school (that I am aware of) was perpetrated by the use of explosives.  Explosives have been used to commit horrible acts, and are therefore regulated quite stringently.  Explosives are an important part of many businesses, but they are inherently weapons (can be used to kill people, and are designed to cause destruction).  Since they are weapons, they are regulated, and I hear very little about how explosives should not be regulated because they are "fun," "antiques," or because "explosives don't kill people."  We acknowledge the danger associated with explosives, and regulate them accordingly.

I also acknowledge that not all firearms are weapons.  Some people have excessive fear, and their cowardice makes them want firearms for protection.  If a shotgun with a three shell magazine is insufficient for protection you need more training with firearms, and you should consider speaking with someone about your anxiety.  Some people like to hunt, and a single shot rifle is an excellent choice for game, and a simple shotgun for fowl.  Some workers in bear country, despite the proven superior effectiveness of pepper spray, prefer a shotgun or sidearm, a revolver is sufficient for animals, but the slower reloading makes them less suitable for mass shootings.  These can be used as weapons, but they can be made for specific purposes that makes them not inherently weapons, and would thus be regulated as the tools they are, not the weapons they could be.

I agree with the firearms lobby that banning firearms will not solve the problem.  If it was that simple, then there would be no question, and this country would have taken the logical step that nearly every other nation has taken, and banned firearms.  To support the argument that banning firearms is not the answer this group will argue that there are other weapons.  But, I argue, that we should regulate those too.  Then the arguments start to reach.  There is the outlaws owning catapults argument, to which I say, let them be outlaws.  Perhaps my favorite is the comparison to cars.  Automobiles can be used as weapons, but are not weapons (see flowchart).  To drive a car though, you need to be licensed.  The more dangerous or liability associated with the vehicle, the more difficult the licensing (this includes ships and aircraft).  I have on many occasions argued for more strict regulation of driver's licenses, but the point remains, that it is more difficult to legally drive an automobile than it is to legally discharge a firearm.  Further to the point, to legally drive a car, one must carry liability insurance.  I actually like this argument because it is a wonderful solution for the anti-tax, anti-weapons control folks.  They are, in fact, arguing that to own firearms you should be required to have years of training and supervision, repeated testing of aptitude, regular license renewal, carry costly private insurance, and that the design of the firearm should comply with stringent safety laws (vehicles must be "street legal").  On this, I agree with the NRA.

Enough, I think, about the firearms themselves.  In this no-tax frenzied society I am astonished every time the firearms lobby argues that society needs mental health care for the mentally ill.  I find I agree with them.  Mental health care should be free to everyone.  My suggestions to pay for this is to raise taxes, since they seem to so adamantly support it, I can only gather that people who favor addressing the mental illness in this country rather than limit availability of firearms (an essentially no-cost solution) also favor raising taxes.  No further need to debate the fiscal cliff, nor to discuss cuts to social programs, the supporters of the NRA are advocating higher taxes for all, and again, I agree!

A solution I do not agree with is that there should be more firearms.  People had the collective insanity to suggest that if the teachers at Sandy Hook were armed, the death toll would have been lower.  First, the cost of training and arming every teacher in the US would be staggering.  Second, the answer to the evils of firearms is not more firearms (cf. two wrongs don't make a right).  Third, what does the police response look like when rather than the perpetrator(s) with weapons, everyone has weapons?  The firearms and weapons already in society make it so police cruisers are up armored, and police wear expensive protective equipment.  How would they deal with increased weapons, and entering public places that are filled with plain clothed people wielding firearms.  This seems like it increases the likelihood of friendly fire incidents, and increases the number of firearms accessible to people who should not have them (I think firearms plus children is contrary to all safety courses I have taken).

The last part of the equation to me is controlling access to ammunition.  No firearm functions without ammunition. First, buying ammunition should be at least as difficult as buying pseudoephedrine (which the last time I bought it included having my driver's license scanned into a police database).  Second, a user fee should be added to each projectile.  I predict a little nonsense in this, because one can reload their own rounds, and as David Brooks pointed out, many of the people who commit these crimes are convicted in their actions.  To ensure even the most dedicated individual are found in this, I recommend primer control.  Primers (to include caps) are what the firing pin (or cock) hit in almost all firearms (yes, flintlock and similar muzzle loaders will slip past).  To purchase a primer, one should have to have their identification scanned against a police database (like purchasing over-the-counter drugs), and a usage fee should be added to offset the cost of access to mental health, police services, administrative costs, and recompense for the deaths and damage caused by firearms.  Chris Rock suggested something like $100 for a bullet, that might be excessive, how about we start with $1/primer.  While that is a shocking raise in the cost of ammunition, I think it is a fair start to offset the cost of ammunition to society, the CBO would be a better group to ask though.

Will all of this stop mass murder tomorrow?  Of course not, and I do not think anyone is suggesting that it would.  I have read many people (right and left) argue that Americans are inherently violent.  I would like for such unpatriotic nonsense to be dropped.  People are violent, but generally good spirited, and it does not matter what country they are from.  People who commit violent acts are either mentally ill, suffering from the effects of a substance (e.g. alcohol), or feel that they are without option.  We need to honor those who have suffered from violent acts by improving ourselves, and improving society, not by bickering, or excusing ourselves by saying we are a weak nation.

What I see in politics in this country is that political movements (e.g. the TEA Party) are bought and paid for by the wealthy (the grass-roots of the TEA Party grew straight from the bank accounts of the Koch brothers).  What I see in the gun lobby is the wealthy preying on the fear and cowardice of the masses.  Unlike these wealth-backed politics, those who support sensible weapons control measures are the victims.  Ronald Reagan had an attempted assassination, resulting in the Brady Bill, and Nancy Reagan supporting weapons control.  I feel sad when I see this, because America has been hijacked by the wealthy, and we must build support to end firearm violence one, or in the case of Sandy Hook Elementary, 27 victims at a time.

Matchbox Childhood

Watching the news today, I debated posting something light-hearted.  However, I had been planning to post this today, and upon reflection, I think that evil has taken enough today.  I spent much of the day checking the news, and cried when I read many of the updates.  My thoughts are with the families and friends of the victims tonight.

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Like most American boys, my toys growing up were miniaturized machines (saving my collection of Care Bears and My Little Ponies).  I played with Micro Machines on the school playground with two or three other boys who had also failed to graduate to sports.  I also played with LEGO, which were a lasting passion.  I developed a descriptive nomenclature for the pieces based on their relative dimensions, and have kept that nomenclature into adulthood.  I spent many evenings as a college student with Heidi building LEGO sets.  Travis and I would have LEGO battles on slow Friday nights in Socorro, though I have always preferred the preservation of my creations.  Heidi gave me an Imperial Star Destroyer set, which remained proudly displayed in my home until my ex-wife insisted it find a new one.  Like a loyal pet, I asked my friend Jessi if she would want it, knowing her and Egypt would take take care of it for years to come.  To my knowledge, it has been disassembled and reassembled for each of their moves, and I imagine that one day their child will blossom into a brilliant nerd, and on prom night he and his friends will come home early, and build a LEGO Imperial Star Destroyer (by that time it may have an ere of hipster cred for being "vintage").

I talk about childhood toys to prove a point, I was, and am, a nerd.  Deeply nerdy, chubby, and the youngest of the children whom I was usually grouped with by my parents (cousins and family friends).  This meant that in addition to my natural athletic inability, I was the smallest owing to age.  Even so, I was frequently exposed to traditional children's games and sports that I was terrible at, and constantly ensured a loss for those who had to suffer through being on my team.  When playing Cowboys and Indians, if I was a cowboy, the game would end with me forced onto a reservation.

During the long Alaskan winter, the certainty of being locked inside the house was a blessing for children as hopeless at active games as I was.  Unfortunately, the subjugation of the young nerd extended beyond the backyard.

It seems like all kids had a car mat in Alaska, though they may be somewhat less common in places where playing outside wasn't an ordeal that Shackleton would fear.  Car mats are still sold, though I remember them being less whimsical, generally having a sensible grid of roads printed directly onto a sheet of white vinyl that no doubt leaked as many carcinogens into the soft skin of children as they did into the communities where they were made.

My brother and I often played with our Matchbox cars with Dave.  Dave's car mat had two houses.  The manufacturer saw fit to include a strip mall, a car dealership, and a church, but no apartments, and only two houses.  As with anything, he who is picked last in dodge ball, is last to be allowed to pick his house and car.  Or at Dave's house, this meant not getting a house at all.

Clever and industrious as the three of us were, rather than expanding the car mat to include a house drawn at the edge of town, or converting the church to a chouse, I was instead declared homeless.  Being of no fixed address in a car mat society has some advantages, you need not commute, for example.  While Jason and Dave were busy driving back and forth, from home to work, I was free to feel deeply cheated.  Eventually, my whining would allow me to live in a "shelter" in the basement of the church.  Jason owned the strip mall, every store was his, what they sold is hard to say, as I do not recall anyone ever going to the strip mall other than him.  Dave owned the car dealership, which was essentially a parking lot for Jason and Dave's wealth of cars, as no money ever changed hands, just endless trade-ins of equal value.  They drove gleaming autos, some with sleek lines, some with outlandish tail pipes or paint schemes.

"You're too poor to own a house," they would say when I wanted a shiny car from the car lot, "you can't have another car"!  So I would offer the single car I was issued at the beginning as a trade.  Dave, the car dealer, knew the value of the cars in his lot, and knew that my car did not constitute and even trade.

"You can't trade your car for one of these cars," he would tell me.  Sometimes, he would say, "maybe two of those cars, but not one," smirking that he knew the rules of the game forbade the homeless from owing more than one car.  I would plead a little longer, then my imaginary, miniature self would walk back to my once green station wagon, climb into the hole where a door once was, and drive back to the shelter in the basement of the church, and sulk.

Eventually, I would drive my station wagon around town for lack of anything else to do.  Jason and Dave would be commuting, wheeling and dealing, and generally having a grand time.  Eventually, they would grow tired of their nine-to-five grind.  They would realize that homeless, doorless brian was driving around the town freely, while they had to spend some arbitrary amount of time at work.  It was simply unacceptable that I was free to drive my jalopy around the grid of white vinyl streets.

"How are you buying gas," someone would demand?

On a good day I could invent some way that I could afford gas, or that my car did not need gas.  If the Matchbox wights were with me, this would suffice, more often than not, the inevitable boredom of imaginary middle class life would demand that the issue be investigated further.

"This is your last tank, and you just ran out."  My car would be forfeited on some road, and I would be forced to walk back to the church.  My car would remain there, abandoned, until it was impounded.  The impound lot was also the car dealership.  My station wagon would sit, lined up with the fanciest cars available, imaginary rust growing on its mostly paintless body.  This would continue, until I would decide to steal my car back.

Stealing the station wagon would have been easy, I imagine.  The car lacked a door, and I would have had the key.  All my car mat avatar would have to do is run to my car before anyone could stop me, jump in, and drive off.

We all know what happens if you steal a car from the impound lot, a car chase ensues.  Sometimes I would not need to steal the car from the impound lot, because rather than mess with the running out of gas business, I would just be accused of stealing gasoline.  No matter what the crime was, the outcome would be the same, my car would be impounded, I would go to jail, which did not exist on the car mat, but unlike a third house, we could imagine it.

Sometimes, knowing that jail inevitably came after the car chase, I would rampage the city rather than be caught.  I would ram my all steel, American made, V8 station wagon into their luxury cars, drive through their yards, and crash through their businesses.  In time, my rebellion would be put down by two older, stronger boys.  The game would be over.

If there was an adult present, we would be ordered to put our toys away, and I would be lectured about acting civil, and playing fairly.  If not, I would be pummeled into submission.  Either way, we would move on to another game I was sure to lose.

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In all fairness, this should be regarded as childhood satire, rather than absolute fact.  Like almost anything, you can buy a worn, green, station wagon Matchbox car on the internet.

The 22 Careers of Brian Aillaud

I was in junior high the first time I was told that my generation would change careers more than any previous generation, and that many of the careers we would have had not been invented yet.  I do not recall the exact number of careers, but it seems like the most common number is seven.  This prediction seemed like malarkey then, and even more so now.  If the average worker will have seven careers, and I look at people I communicate with semi-regularly, I am the only one who has changed careers, and I did that once.  If I am generous with the count, I can get the count to four careers, but realistically, two seems like the more honest number.  If I look at five other people I know, they have all only had one career.  For the average to be seven, this group of six needs to have forty two careers!  If I assume that my group of six has worked for 25% of their total working years, and all five others made a switch today, I could expect them to have four careers over their working life.  This leaves me to make up the 22 careers remaining, which means I need to get busy.

The seeming ridiculousness of this statistic was described in 2010 by Carl Bialik for the the Wall Street Journal.  He has some quotes that support both sides, and some statistics that refute it.  The real problem he runs into in his column, not to mention what the Bureau of Labor Statistics seems to have difficulty with as well, is how to define a career change.  Bialik quotes a career councilor who gives this example:  "He describes one 30-year-old client, currently working as a manager of a doctor's office, who is exploring a new professional path. Previously, she worked in real-estate sales, at a talent agency, a sports-car dealership and as a sales representative at top-end health clubs."  An office manager would be a promotion from the front desk staff at a physician's office, who are, realistically, a form of sales staff.  So, this person has worked in sales and sales management, or a closely related field.  I count that as zero career changes.  The quoted career counselor, I assume, counts that as five careers.  Is it a career change every time someone in the military gets a promotion?  Every time a teacher changes grade level?  Every time a geologist changes rock type?  No, for me, a career change means a significant change in education, e.g. a new college degree.

I was lamenting the issue of career (job) changing during a company training one day.  I said something along the lines of, "my problem is that I cannot seem to stay in a field long enough to get beyond entry level."  Most of my low-level comrades did not understand my lamentation, but an executive director in another department laughed heartily, and was friendly with me the rest of the time I was with the company.  In that company, though this high-ranking individual appreciated my understanding of the workforce, and was one of the few who, without obligation, introduced me to her husband (or encouraged her husband to introduce himself), could do nothing to lift me out of my menial duties.

When I talk to people who are recruiting staff (it is becoming more and more common for my CV to be more developed than, but lacking as much continuity as these people), they hesitate to hire young people who do not want to do menial tasks.  While I will admit that I am less and less willing to be part of a "team" of high-school drop-outs, I do not mind doing these tasks to get the job done.  What I want is to have more responsibility and control over the entire aspect of my job.  I had a conversation with a vice-president-level executive once about this (he pressed me for something I would like to see changed in my job).  He was shocked.  He said he hated that part of his job, and wished he could do more geology.  After years of being reprimanded for not holding my tongue, I resisted my impulse to say, "then let's switch jobs."  To him, those aspects of the job were things that had distanced himself from what he loved about geology.  To me, those were the aspects of the job that were keeping me from rising in the company.  (I had, on multiple occasions, watched my supervisors absorb other project's budget over-runs with my profits, negating my chance of standing out among the junior staff.)

While to many it may seem that I have a cavalier attitude about leaving jobs, and changing my life, it is actually that I take very seriously my ability to advance in any career.  If a job is dead-end, why stay in it longer than you have to?  If you are told you are ineligible for promotions and raises (which I have been told within the first month of being with a company), then you must start looking for a new job where those are a possibility.  Everyday you spend in that position is a day of your life you have wasted.  So to those who see job switching as being cavalier with your career, I see not job switching as being cavalier with your life.

This verbose introduction brings into light a question without an answer.  What am I looking for professionally? I get tired of this question, so I have developed a string of quips to respond with, "independent wealth," and "outdoor gear tester with no salary, but a credit card with no limit, and someone else to pay the bills."  In reality though, I am looking for a company that values my abilities, and me as a person.  I also follow a strict rule where I only give a company as much respect as the company gives me.

A co-worker once told me that the military needs people like me (he was retired Air Force), but that people like me are not interested in the military.  In many ways, he was right (about the latter part).  I have never really felt like the military valued me as a person.  Whenever I have spoken with a recruiter, they always seemed very interested in my abilities, but never that interested in my person.  The military, for good or bad, has never been that interested in diversity, which is a major strike against for them from my perspective.  That said, there are many facets of the military that do interest me.  Some of it may be imagined, as I do not know much about the military, but I do value that the military does not pretend that everybody has a say, like science does.  It seems that the military earnestly wants to employ people in positions that they are best suited for.  The military (and I'll include the CIA and NSA in this) seem genuinely interested in improving their workforce by promoting education, foreign language proficiency, and physical fitness, as well as empowering their employees to do their jobs more effectively by furnishing essential family services, e.g. childcare (which I would never use).

A few companies do this, maybe not to quite the level of the military, but when you read Yvon Chouinard's book, Let My People Go Surfing, it is clear that Chouinard values his employees as people.  He also argues that when the company's budget is considered holistically, expenses like onsite childcare facilities pay for themselves.  These companies are rare, making jobs with them highly coveted.  Companies like Patagonia are also legally prohibited from excluding people based on sex and sexual orientation, and though many of them still do not offer women equal pay, they cannot openly discriminate.

Thus, the first thing I am looking for is a company that values improving the lives of its employees.  I have friends who work for Boeing and Encana, both of which offer commuter incentives, which improve the quality of their employee's lives.  Teck, a company I have worked for, offers employees discounts at gyms, and will sponsor health and well-being initiatives.  Perks that those in the private sector often forget are not present in public sector jobs (outside the military).  While some of those companies do value their employees, many companies do not.  They may have these perks as ways to appear to value their employees, because most people will accept pretend appreciation when they are accustomed to none at all.

Before I seem too cynical though, I will admit that I became slightly jaded with worker's rights as a child.  My parents were active in the National Education Association, and so I was privy to the slow erosion of pay and benefits my parents experienced from their employers, and the waning support to outright hostility they experienced from parents and the public.  Through them, I learned that I had to take care of myself in the workplace, because no one else was.  (I also learned from them that it was absolutely important to take care of others, but my point is elsewhere.)  

When it came time to choose a career path, I chose engineering.  In many ways, the idea of engineering chose me.  As a very young child I wanted to be a garbage man, who else gets to cruise around on a big truck all day?  But, after that mysterious phase which is apparently not entirely uncommon, I wanted to create things.  The next question was what I wanted to create.  In junior high, where careers start being explored, it was computers, but at that time, computers looked like the future (they were, and are), but eventually, I realized that my true love was the outdoors.  Through twisted logic that only the ill-advised could create, I found mining engineering.  

My grandfather was apparently disappointed in this decision, as he felt I, my abilities and personality, would be better suited in medicine.  I say apparently, because his wise and loving nature allowed me to only ever know his support, never his disappointment.  Another person and the only career advice I ever got through the schools thought I should pursue medicine as well.  A career test in junior high suggested that I was ideally suited for a career either as a gardener, or a cardiologist.  The range in career goals given in that test seemed to impeach its ability to offer any insights into a potential career.  Rather vividly, I remember classmate, Jenni, talking to me at a desk in the science classroom in high school.  If it was a class, it had to have been early in high school, freshman or sophomore year.  Equally as likely, it was late in high school, and we had been herded into the room for a class meeting.  I do not remember the specifics of the conversation, but she asked what I wanted to be, I told her an engineer, and she reacted with, "Why? You should be a doctor or something."  I remember her visceral rejection of my ambitions clearly.  Her contention was that I was smart enough to do something useful, like cure cancer, and I would instead be wasting it on designing mines.  It actually made me a little angry, why should my abilities choose what I do?  Why do I have to dedicate myself to the common good of people, what about the good of me?

Years later, I find that my reaction to my career choice is much the same as Jenni's.  Not that I fancy that I could study medicine, then immediately cure cancer.  Maybe I would get lucky, and I would be the Nobel Laureate who will be honored for creating the final "cure for cancer," but most likely I would just put another brick in the proverbial wall, making a better world.  My new regret is not related to abilities, but rather to what is important to me.  The world needs mining, and I find myself defending an industry I do not love because of the simple logic of its necessity (read my post "The Inevitability of Pebble Mine" for more), yet mining does not need me.  Nor do I get any great satisfaction from providing the world with copper.  I like the puzzle of exploration, and earth systems are fascinating, but at the end of the day, I feel empty.  I wonder if I had listened to Jenni better, would I feel empty at the end of the day?  After all, Jenni is not just some girl in a class of 1000 people (my class was something on the order of 27 students).  I grew up with her.  She was one of, if not the first girl I "liked," well before that had any romantic meaning.  This was a person who had known me well for, essentially, my entire life, so why wouldn't she know something about what I should do with my life?

The obvious choice now is to make that change.  The challenge with career changes, as I define them, is that they are difficult.  This is not changing from selling exclusive gym memberships to selling fancy cars, this is years of education, years of lost wages, years of commitment, all of which could culminate in a career that turns out to not be an improvement.  Further, all those years of education could place me on the other side of age discrimination, where I have the same difficulty finding a job that I do now.

Age discrimination is almost always used to describe discrimination against people who are older.  Yet, a position that requires a college degree and five to ten years of experience is essentially saying, those under 30 need not apply.  That is age discrimination in a cloak of "experience."  The jobs my abilities are most suited for at this stage of my life almost always require a person to have a PhD, and 10-15 years of experience.  Yet, also require a person to be agile and healthy.  In a single job description, the job advertiser excludes everyone under and over 40.  I will admit to some dramatization to try to underscore a point, but I think anyone who has applied for jobs can attest to this frustration.

For those who balk at the apparent arrogance of saying that I have the abilities of someone with much more experience, like those recruiters wary of inexperienced who balk at menial tasks, should consider a few things.  First, I am arrogant (cf. I have a blog).  Second, while not in the same industry, I have a solid experience base, including project planning and management.  Third, I recently took a silly online career test, that offered that I am most suited for a managerial role.

Let us assume that these career and personality tests have some merit.  That by answering sixty questions the internet can assess the best career for a person.  Given this assumption, the test suggests that I have already encountered my first calamity with the Peter principle, before I am ever promoted.  Whereby, my abilities are most suited for a position that is not my current position, or that my level of incompetence is entry level.  Without wading through every eponymous "law," I must consider the related Dilbert principle, and the Dunning-Kruger effect (Writing of Dilbert, a recent comic takes a humorous look at Millennials in the workforce).  If the Dilbert principle is correct, then I am not promoted because I am technically competent, and the work I do is highly valued at the entry level.  This interpretation holds with my experience of my profits being vanished through the creative accounting of my superiors.  It also lets me save face, avoiding the much less flattering Dunning-Kruger effect.

The Dunning-Kruger effect would suggest that my inflated self-worth is a result of my own incompetence.  I do not think this applies, because I am not arguing that I am better than people at my current level, and therefore should be promoted.  I am arguing that I think I would be better than people at my level than they would be at the level above us.  That is I assume that others are as good as me at say, collecting soil samples, but others are not as good at me at planning a soil sampling program.

The fun considerations of professional life created by these principles are mostly harmless, but suggest several things about career choice.  If I am to change careers then I need to change to something where the entry level position is personally rewarding, engaging, and technical enough that I do not feel the need to be upwardly motivated.  Possibly academia is then the best place for me to be, or maybe it is something in the geosciences that I have not yet tried.  Perhaps it is medicine, as my grandfather and childhood friend thought.

The difficulty in making these decisions is that for the person it affects the most, the answer is the hardest to see.  Often those close to us do have a better vision of what we should do, but they rarely have the understanding of the situation to make an elegant and persuasive argument.  My MS advisor was probably the most successful at having a positive sway over these decisions, but I still cannot face his last suggestion, a PhD in experimental geology.  Unfortunately for me, most people who have ideas for me, are either too respectful of my personality to suggest them, or I am too stubborn to listen.