Most people working in technology, especially the ones who write code, don't understand the underlying needs and use cases that drive their work. Under the guidance of an effective architect/manager, a few of those get it right despite their low level of communication skills.

I've worked in IT and related fields for a while, as have many of the people who call themselves my friends. I've seen and discussed a lot of getting it wrong and getting it right, and mentored a handful of folks along the way to improving their empathy, communication, execution, and humility. You don't do good work by acting like a bro. If you don't understand why someone's upset about an action of yours, you may have committed a bro behaviour -- even if you are not a bro. I myself am not entirely free of bro nature and sometimes err.

The development of this site so far has, from the multiple perspectives I can access through the miracle of conversation, been uneven with respect to listening to, understanding, and meeting the needs of anyone other than the principal developer. Fortunately, the skills that need to be developed can be learned by a person internally motivated to do so.

Why didn't I know about this?

Of course now... Oh, god, why do I know about this?

On my commute home today I saw a white Rolls Royce (not a common sight on the BQE, and eeeesh are new Rolls Royces TACKY LOOKING) with dark tinted windows.  The vanity plate read, "MR LOLLI" and was framed with a custom plate frame- "I'm Hiring".  I peered in the obscured window as I passed the car, but all I could see was sunlight glinting off of an enormous gold watch.

Looking for a job?  Follow the link below and you can thank me later.

http://www.anthonylolli.com

When you walk into home depot, and you're a tall guy and wearing an orange bowling shirt.. people ask you questions because they think you work there. They just see the orange. 

Hmm.

There were wonderful teachers, like our choral director Gordon Adams, who definitely got more than one kid through those four years, compromising with punk rockers on the performance dress code ("you can wear your boots if you wear the suit") and taking heat from the administration over it.

But high school wasn't so bad honestly. My peers matured a lot when we all hit the ninth grade and merged with another school. I made lasting friends and did nerdy and less-nerdy things with impunity. Hell, I lettered in cross country.

Before that, though, I was public enemy number one. Yep, from the day I arrived in town in the fourth grade and said, "hey! have you guys heard about the gas crunch?"

Yes, I was that kid: full of adult knowledge and words, and hopelessly socially unskilled.

I was verbally, though not physically, pummeled for the ensuing five years. I had no friends that lasted; as soon as someone warned them I wasn't cool, they got the hell away from Toxic Boy.

So I have to give props to my mom, who said:

"Adults are going to tell you these are the best years of your life. Don't listen to them. I remember being your age. It was terrible."

Mom was on the "It Gets Better" train before it was cool.

And I'm having a queazy heartattack. 

Knowing I just have one chance today to post here gives me a bit of stage fright. What if I don't perform well?   Silly goose-me.  My friends are here.   

I wish I could heal faster.  I wish my spine were straight.  There are many things I can change, but my herniated and collapsed discs, not so much.  I'm having a bit of a pained day. I sprained my knee and then reinjured it in the past few weeks, and my spinal nerve pains are layering a caramel sauce of tiny stabbings over that pain scoop.  I shall go get spinal cortisone injections to help ease the sensations, but they won't change the wedged wear on my vertebrae.  

I haven't the wearwithall for art today.  

On such a day, this little sore atheist returns once again to Henley's poem Invictus for the strength and inspiration I need to do the dishes and interact with humans, and see my friend Corprew, who delights me.  

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

I didn't realize how much mental space and emotional energy tenure took up (I guess I did in theory, but didn't recognize the real toll of it) until I came back to work this month not having to think about it.  It's pretty amazing how much more focused I feel on mentoring students without the crazy pressure, and publication balls in the air. I have three students working on independent research projects with me at present and two of them are carried over from last year.  Being able to sit with drafts of their papers and focus on one thing at a time this week has been a revelation! I hope settling in to this new phase continues to create more normalcy.  I was commenting to a colleague that in academia we all spend so many years clawing our way through (grad. school, field research, dissertation, job market, tenure process, etc.) that now that I've finally come out the other end it's hard to rest with the concept of just "being where you are" rather than continually struggling for what comes next.  Phew.

(adapted from Marion Cunningham's The Breakfast Book)

• 2 packages dry yeast
• 1/3 cup warm water (~ 105 degrees F)
• 1-1/2 cups milk
• 1/3 cup vegetable shortening
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 2 t salt
• 2 t nutmeg (freshly grated, if possible)
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten
• 3-1/2 cups all-purpose flour + 1 cup whole wheat flour, combined
• 4 T (1/2 stick) butter, melted
  
• 1 cup sugar + 2 t cinnamon, combined
  

Put the milk and shortening in a saucepan and gently heat until the shortening is melted.  Cool until lukewarm - about the same temp as the water for the yeast.

Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water in a small bowl; stir and dissolve for 5 minutes.

Put the yeast in a large mixing bowl and add the milk mixture; stir in the 1/4 cup sugar, salt, nutmeg, eggs, and 2 cups of the flour mixture.  Beat briskly until well blended.  Add the remaining flour and beat until smooth.  Cover the bowl and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Dust a board generously with flour (I used about 2 cups of flour during this part of the process) and turn the dough onto it.  Pat the dough into a circle about 1/2 inch thick.  Use a 3-inch doughnut cutter and cut out the doughnuts, placing them (and the doughnut holes) on greased baking sheets, 1 inch apart.  They don't spread much; they rise.  Preheat the oven to 435 degrees F.  Let the doughnuts rest and rise for 20 minutes, uncovered.

Bake about 10 minutes, until they have a touch of golden brown.  Remove from the oven.  Have the melted butter and a brush ready.  Brush each doughnut and doughnut hole with butter and roll in the cinnamon sugar.  Serve hot.