An obligatory statement on social media

"Nothing happens by accident; scenarios present themselves and we have the choice of which path to take; make wise decisions. When the pieces are properly aligned on the chessboard of life, it's checkmate."

If we're on Facebook at all, we likely have "friends" on the site whom we barely know. And if you're at all like me, the vast majority of these contacts post a neverending stream of cat pictures, selfies, and political propaganda. I can't bring myself to defriend them, though, because at some point I obviously considered their inclusion important - even if I don't currently remember them at all.

There's this guy named John who is a Facebook friend I barely know - I remember meeting him several years ago, and I remember a brief but surprisingly intellectual conversation, but I think that may have been the only time we actually met face-to-face. He does not post cat pictures, selfies, or political propaganda. He does not use social media to glorify himself, idolize celebrities, or spread partisan talking points. He is one of those rare people who uses social media - that all-consuming thread in which we can spotlight anything we want to thousands of other human beings - to try to inspire them.

"My drive and determination will not accept failure. The one's who are willing to work harder than the next will be successful; the one's who have an iron will to go above and beyond will last long."

The Difficult Meaning of Meaning

One of my students challenged me a couple of weeks ago to tell him what, in all the world, meant something.

This student, a rather intelligent one, ascribes rather heavily to the "speck of dust in the universe" philosophy that in the grand scheme of things, one tiny person in one tiny city on one tiny planet in one tiny galaxy can't possible be a part of anything meaningful. As the Animaniacs put it so eloquently in verse a couple of decades ago, "It's a great big universe, and we're all really puny." Such is the curse of intelligence, I think: if you're as bright as my student (or the Warner Brothers), these are the kinds of questions that plague you, because only with intelligence can you really comprehend just how tiny you are in the grand scheme of things. I imagine that this would be a source of great anxiety for me, as well, if I were that intelligent. Happily, I'm not.

After probing him a bit to learn the source of the question and attempting to get him to answer it for himself, I finally gave my own interpretations of why we matter. Unsurprisingly, he was not convinced. My meaning is not his, nor is it yours.

This lady I met at the party

I was at a party tonight, and I met a woman.

Not the kind of party you probably go to - this was a "Hey, We All Just About Survived Another Semester" party with the other PhD students and candidates at GT who weren't removed from the program in some voluntary/involuntary fashion. It mostly consisted of bowling, enjoying free food and beverages, and using really big words (most of which I freely admit intimidate me).

After a couple of hours, I strayed away from the main group and noticed the drink table, behind which our bartender/drink server stood. It occurred to me that she looked very alone. It also occurred to me that we'd been there quite some time and she didn't have a chair. Then it occurred to me that I was thirsty.

So I went and asked for some water. She asked if I was sure, because nobody else was drinking water. I said I liked water. Then I asked her how she was.

I'm Just Not Geeky Enough

I am a geek. I've pretty much always been a geek, and I've never really been ashamed of that. I spend an inordinate amount of time with my Playstation. I own Optimus Prime and Blaster transformer toys. There is a barrel of monkeys on my desk at work, nestled amongst my four monitors. My kids have Star Trek, FFA, and Metallica onesies. I can name the pilots and colors of the five Voltron lions (I miss Sven). I have Jim Henson's autograph, and I'm staring at a statue of Kermit the Frog right now. I have a large collection of Alice in Wonderland and Sherlock Holmes memorabilia. I listen to gothic rock. I often say things like, "Why am I still talking while there's science to do."

Yes, I'm a geek... but this weekend, I learned that I'm just not geeky enough. What taught me this? Why... Dragon*Con, of course. (note the asterisk - some people seem to get a little snippy if you leave it out or replace it with a hypen. I'm not sure how you pronounce the asterisk, though...).

Some Things I Learned at the Academy of Management

Worth mentioning: the title above originally was missing the word, "Some," until I realized that would make for a blog post even more ridiculously long than usual.

The Academy of Management, admittedly grandiosely named, is the world's preeminent association for those interested in management and its study. Although the majority of the organization's membership is academics - professors, deans, students, and the like - a healthy chunk of the membership is made up of actual managers. You know, people who run businesses and have management positions in what we laughingly call "the real world." Go figure.

This weekend the Academy had its annual meeting, (or rather, Meeting, as they frame it) and I had the honor of both attending and presenting my paper on authentic leadership (for a bit of the logic behind the paper I presented, check this old post). Here are a few things I learned this weekend, in bullet-point format as you guys seem to like that format...

Feedback and Volunteering in Organizations (with the Muppets)

Maybe if I type up all of these research-oriented thoughts in my head, then I'll be able to assemble them a little more clearly. On the other hand, even if it doesn't help with my research, it might ease my guilt over not blogging lately. So let's kill two birds with one stone. Unless of course you like birds, gentle reader, in which case I will be doing no bird killing today. In that case, we will be... ummm... hitting two... targets?... with one... ummm... you know what? I'm no good with metaphors. Asking me to write a good metaphor is like asking Kenny Chesney to be a decent human being. Wait, that was a decent metaphor, wasn't it? Never mind.

In modern workplaces, whether they be offices, retail stores, schools, small businesses, large firms, or non-profits, the concept of "going above and beyond" is becoming increasingly important. There's research backing that statement up, and plenty of it. Organizations expect their team members and employees to not just do what is explicitly listed on their job descriptions, but also to do other things that benefit the organization, the people who work there, and the customers they serve. Many organizations even manage to work these "things-that-are-not-in-the-job-description" into the job description itself, oddly enough. They do this by including a line at the end of the official list of duties that says something like: "Employee shall also perform other duties beneficial to the company outside those listed here, as determined by management." When I was in the corporate world, I called that "The Auschwitz Clause," because under language like that, the company could direct you to do just about anything, from killing innocent people to selling yourself into slavery to buying Kenny Chesney albums.

Today is Father's Day

This is my first Father's Day as a father myself, although I don't yet really think of myself as a father despite the fact that I'm fairly certain I am one. There are these two wriggly, lovable little poop machines that are always around and who I'm expected to help care for, but I don't yet feel like a father. Heck, I don't yet feel like an adult. Most mornings when I wake up I'm still amazed I graduated from high school. Some other mornings I think I'm still in college... and then I remember that yes, I am still in college.

That said, if this is what Father's Day is like, I'm happy to report that I'm looking forward to the next one. Blueberry muffins, printed pictures I've been asking for since the kids were born, and a new copy of Portal 2? Yes, please. Daddyhood is good. The kids gave me some poop... which I didn't really want, but they made it themselves, and I guess it's the thought that counts.

When I think of Father's Day, I don't think about myself - I think, as we should, about my own father. He was the only real strong male presence I had for most of my young life, both of my grandfathers having died relatively early. I think I'd like to write a bit about my father today - Gerald James Lemoine, the Senior. He was a deeply flawed but nonetheless amazing person. That's kind of neat to me, because I'm at least smart enough to know that we're all deeply flawed. I'm deeply flawed, and maybe you are, too. However, there are very few of us who are nonetheless amazing. I'm not. You might be. Dad was.

So you want to get your doctorate....

I find myself with a rare thirty minutes of complete and total freedom right now, and since I don't have any video gaming devices handy, that means it's time to blog. Gather round, boys and girls, for a topic that you may be very interested in (unless you're not)... reasons why you should (or shouldn't get yourself a Ph.D.

See, since I started the doctoral program here at Georgia Tech... and especially in the last few months... I've had a lot of people tell me that they're thinking about going back to school to get that ultimate degree. They generally ask me what it's like and ask me if I think they'd be a good fit. My answers vary - usually I ask my questioners a few questions to try to figure out if they're a good fit or not, and then we get distracted talking about something like cheese or raccoons or whether Optimus Prime could beat Trypticon (he totally could), and they never get an answer to their question. So let me try to be as helpful as I can, while staying as on-topic as possible, while giving my own humble opinions on the truthiness or falsiness of certain things I've heard lately.

Ruth's Chris and the Usual Diversions

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND MY BLOGPOST DRAFT?!? I WAS ALMOST DONE WITH THAT POST! IT WAS BRILLIANT! IT HAD BABY PICTURES AND BANANAS AND PAC-MAN AND... and... seriously, it's lost? Dang it. You mean I have to start writing it all over again? Ugg. That really sucks.

Hey, wasn't Ugg that little purple guy from Q*Bert? I LOVED that arcade game. It apparently made a great babysitter, because my mother would drop little nine-year-old Jim off at the university arcade for an hour or two with just a dollar in his pocket, but that dollar would be more than enough to keep me playing and entertained the whole time I was stuck there. I miss arcades.

The post I began yesterday that somehow got erased was about some of my experiences at Ruth's Chris steakhouse. Don't get me wrong: I'm not the kind of guy who eats a lot at places as fancy as Ruth's Chris - I'm much more likely to be found at your local neighborhood Popeye's. Although I tend to get confused every time I go to Popeye's, now that you mention it. There's a reason for my confusion... a good one, I think. It all started a long time ago, back to even before I was kicking the SLU undergraduates' butts in the local arcade.

Speaking of....

Well, it's good to be back. I don't see why I've been the only one catching hell for not visiting the NeverTown over the last couple of months... where have you been? And more importantly, am I the only one who cleans up around here?? There's dust all over everything! It's kind of cute... a fine layer of NeverDust covers all of the buildings and streets of the NeverTown. I guess I should start cleaning.

The last few months have been ludicrously busy (which has no connection with any rappers - instead, it's the level of 'busy' that comes after 'light busy' and 'ridiculous busy', and leads from there into the plaid zone), with kids, papers, classes, and anniversary preparations. And poop. Lots and lots of poop. But I guess that's tied in with the kids. Seriously, we could solve all of our American energy problems if someone would just invent a line of cars powered by my kids' poop. We could all ride for years oil-free and save the environment... but I hate to think of the smell emerging from the exhaust pipes.

Introductory Organizational Theory (and the Muppets)

So I've said something shocking several times recently, in public, in private, but never on this blog. So let me say it here as well: as far as new programs and presentations are concerned, the Muppets are dead to me. I was willing to overlook all of those supposedly heartwarming musical guest appearances with up-and-coming Disney Channel stars - Disney owns them now, so sure, I have to expect they'll use Kermit and pals to promote their more fashionable drek. I gave them a pass for the Muppet Wizard of Oz, which abandoned the franchise's normally adult-oriented humor to instead pursue silly songs, the two-year-old market, and a sad attempt to bolster the sagging career of an R&B singer with dubious acting qualities. I even got excited about the new Muppet special, "Letters to Santa", two Christmases ago. I reasoned that any new Muppet show couldn't be all that bad. But then within the first five minutes the Muppets were singing a silly song about how wonderful the United States Post Office is, in a show sponsored by the United States Post Office. Is this really what the home of Beaker and Animal has sunk to?

An Unreasonable Quantity of Snow Days in Atlanta

And now, a blog about snow.

It's 5:43 pm on a lovely Wednesday afternoon in Sandy Springs, Georgia, where we've been snowed- and iced- in for the past few days. Last Monday was supposed to be my return to Georgia Tech, research, and classes, but instead I've been here ever since, spending plenty of time with the wife and kids while getting really, really sick of the available convenience foods. I got very excited about the possibility of walking down to Panda Express this evening for some real grub, but alas that my giftcard will go as yet unspent: they closed two hours ago due to a lack of customers braving the treacherous roads for quality Chinese. Heavy sigh.

It's 2011: Where's My Flying Car?

I mean, at the very least, there must be a hoverboard or something on the way. Christopher Lloyd taught me that. Where we're going, we don't need roads.

It's a new year, and the kids are sleeping.

Damn, that felt nice and relaxing to type. In fact, I like that feeling so much, I'm going to type it again.

It's a new year, and the kids are sleeping.

Aaaaahhhh....

And We're Back!

The NeverTown has long sat silent and empty, cold winter winds whistling through the barren streets that never were. My apologies. I've been finishing up my first semester as a doctoral student and research assistant at Tech... and in case you hadn't heard, I have twins. We just finished a trip back home to Louisiana with the boys in tow. It was nice to see everybody there, but the trip really had only one primary purpose: to introduce Benjamin and Kristopher to my one last living direct-line relative who cares about them. Grandma Mabel was pretty excited to say the least. Gotta say, though, I was very disappointed that she didn't have a chance to make her famous gumbo. Damn, I miss that gumbo. Despite that, she remains my favorite person in Louisiana (although my good friend Kristy has got to at least be in the Top 5).

Also got to hang out with some old friends (where I learned I was Eternal, Chunky, and Pure), and revisit my briefest of workplaces, Best Buy #1157. Nice to see the old crew again, but nicer to know that odd men named Bubba can no longer yell at me for failing to instruct my team to sell services to people who don't honestly need them. I like to think I subscribe to a more ethical version of salesmanship, which served me well back at Schwan's and Trustfile, but maybe I just don't want it enough. Who knows?

Babies and My Poor Neglected Blog

Believe it or not, it's tremendously difficult for me to type one-handed. And as one or more of my hands seems to constantly be doing something with a baby, that's left few fingers free to add to this blog. I'm also getting over a particularly nasty cold. Insert appropriate apologies to my rabid fan-base here.

We're currently just two hours away from the twins' six-week-birthday, and I understand that this is the point where I'm supposed to gush about the inner warmth and joys of parenthood, my boundless love for the children, and my joy at the opportunity and privilege to serve them. I've been told that at this point I'm meant to discuss how I've come to think of myself as a father first and everything else second, how my life has changed, and how I can never look at the world the same way.

Well, my life has changed. I'll give you that one, at least. Other than that... nope. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or maybe it's the workload of helping my amazing wife with these two combined with the myriad responsibilities of the doctoral program. In any event, I'm more numb and tired than anything. There have been moments, of course - some good and several not so much. I imagine that's natural for those unlucky few who get to try feeding, changing, burping, and soothing two at the same time.

Let Me Tell You About Baby-Poopies

Yes, I've counted eight distinct types now, although the variety has pretty much limited itself at this point to three assortments: the Mustard type, the Gravel type, and what I like to call the "Grastard" type, which conveniently combines the smell and colors of the Mustard type with the consistency and stick-to-skin quality of the Gravel type.

Honestly, the things I blog about....

Another Twin Update, and a Fallacy of Self-Monitoring

Have I bragged about how awesome my new home office here in Atlanta is? Seriously, when I learned I'd be moving here to pursue my doctorate, I imagined a grimy, dirty, tiny, urban apartment. I definitely did not imagine a spacious sunroom office with a balcony surrounded by trees and a creek. Seriously, it's a joy to work in here (and I'm getting a surprising amount of work done today, despite the fact that I was left alone with the twins - they've been pretty quiet and well-behaved, and yes, I'm knocking on wood as I type this. Honestly. Simultaneously. It's a sight to see.).

But that's probably not the kind of thing you're looking for if you read this blog. You're either looking for organizational psychology, baby updates, or a cheap laugh (or if you're Kerry, you're hoping I'll mention you). Well, you, dear reader, are in luck, because you're going to get all three in this post (but I'm not going to mention Kerry).

It's been a while since I've talked about self-monitoring in these (virtual) pages, and as I know for a fact that some of you aren't interested in the slightest in this, I should warn you in advance that I'm going to spend the next four paragraphs talking about it. Feel free to skip down if you'd like.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" or "Three Days with Twins"

So many lessons learned from the first three days of having both Benjamin Justin Lemoine and Kristopher James Lemoine at home... sounds like it's time for another bullet-point blog post!

• Both babies are healthy. That's the important thing. They seem pretty happy, too. Speaking of which....
• I'm reminded of an old Edwin Edwards (former governor of Louisiana) quote: "Louisiana is not first in everything that is bad, and last in everything that is good." That said, Benjamin is not first in all the negative records, and he is not second in all of the positive records. Sure, Kristopher took top honors for being the first baby to roll over on his own (already!) and Benjamin took top honors for being the first baby to have diarrhea. Sure, Kristopher took top honors for being the first baby to finish off his whole bottle, and Benjamin took top honors for being the first baby to experience explosive projectile defecation (seriously, it was amazing! I'm going to hang a mini-poster of Kenny Chesney next to the diaper-changing table, so he has a target next time!). On the other hand, Benjamin is completely wiping the floor with Kristopher on smile-count (about 27 to 0, at last count), and Benjamin took top honors for being the first twin to do a push-up.

It Comes Before a Fall

The beginning of a recent Facebook chat:

"Hey. Did you and Debby have twins?"

"Hold on, let me check."

"Yeah, I think we did."

***

And so, here we are. I'm surrounded by three computers in my apartment sunroom/office, uploading pictures to Facebook, chatting with well-wishers demanding updates, and fielding multiple requests for a new post to the NeverTown. Meanwhile, Kristopher James Lemoine (the middle name is for my father, not me!) is nestled in a baby swing to my immediate left, undoubtedly confused by the blinking screens, furious typing, and cacophonic gothic rock emanating from my speakers. He's stirring a bit right now... stretching his arms and hands out as best he can from his nest within that Classic Winnie the Pooh blanket.

Wait, he's asleep again. Back to typing.

Lo, They Shall Inherit Many Transformers, and a Pinball Table

And so, as those of you who actually know me and are hooked up with me on Facebook already know, it has finally happened. At the stroke of midnight early Friday morning, my wife was taken from me so that a huge needle could be stuck in her spine and her lower belly could be cut open. I hid, along with her head, behind a curtain as she held my hand tightly and I did an impromptu comedy routine to help alleviate our fear. The doctors and nurses laughed quite a bit more than Debby did. And there was this huge lamp in the room that looked just like the planet-destroying laser on the Death Star!

At 12:35am or so, we heard crying. I stayed with my wife until the crying erupted a second time. Then, with her permission, I disengaged from her and moved ten feet to the right to take pictures and see my sons for the first time.

To be honest, it wasn't quite like I expected. The babies weren't awe-inspiringly beautiful, glowing, or even paradigm changing. I did not look upon them and see a different world or a different future. I didn't see them and think that suddenly my personality would be completely different. I didn't even look at them and think they were beautiful; my first thought about appearance was probably something along the lines of, "Wow, they're covered in slime."