Looking westward on 35th St at Madison Ave in 1911
New York Public Library Collection | Flickr Commons

I know now that I know very little, if at all. What years and years of education I have had, what degrees I have listed, what papers I have scrawled, what tests I have finished (or not finished), what objects I have handled and learned, and what images my eyes have seen: all means nothing.

As one works and works and works, sacrificing hours and minutes and even days of quality time spent with family and friends because the work requires it—deadlines have been set (often without your input and sometimes even over your objections), money has been budgeted, etc.—there is some understanding that you will be recognized at least (if not rewarded) for such dedication, for such sacrifices. Right?

As I “grow” in life, I am learning that there is no such thing. It is a lesson, I suppose, I’ve learned before and constantly must be taught again and again and again. At what point, I wonder, will I learn? At what point will I accept that there is no mutually beneficial relationship in employer and employee? As a lawyer, I suppose, I should know that the very existence of a corporation is to shield itself from legal responsibilities: and perhaps also to moral, ethical and humane considerations, as well.

ACE (Adult Christian Education) is a ministry of Grace Redeemer Church aimed at equipping our people to participate in Spirit-empowered, Gospel-driven transformation of hearts, relationships & culture. Please join us each Sunday at 10AM for either Bible Basics 201 or Spiritual Formation 201.
Grace Redeemer Church website | retrieved October 3, 2009 | emphasis added

It has become increasingly important that those two highlighted elements are first and foremost in any “program” for me, for Simone and for Isabelle, in this life and for eternity. The focus on the Gospel driven nature and transformative power of the Holy Spirit should be the nature of every Christian church, and the requirement of teaching that to its congregants should be the paramount concern of any church leader.

Joy is watching your child play quietly, intently, innocently—without a care in the world—immersed in her own complacent and complete joy of “simply being,” infinitely oblivious to the worries, dangers, obstacles and evil of this world.

And, then jumping in and playing some too…forgetting, if only for a little bit of a weekend, the chores and other “work” which inundate our busy (does it necessarily have to be?), busy, busy lives.

I spent 3 days last week in bed, feverish and riddled with body aches all over. No congestion, sniffles, runny-nose or coughing. Just a blaring headache and all kinds of joint and muscle pain. It was like having been run over by a truck the week before.

In bed, listening to my 4th generation iPod…I couldn’t help but feel that all that work I’m not getting done in the office is going to be hell to pay when I return. And no one cares in a company whether you’re late because you’ve been working without adequate sleep for 6+ months and your body finally said STOP…because we’re dying in here!

. . . under pressure . . .

Photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/sam_and_ian/ | CC BY-NC 2.0

My eyes are tired. Legs are achy. Back doesn’t feel right. Wrists are numb. Fingers crack more. I am barely peeling back my eyelids every morning at 2 or 3:00 a.m., trying to drag myself up to finish the “to-do” list from yesterday. At the end of the day, the list only grows…and grows…and grows.

Still, as I collect resumes for intern interviews, I know just how bad the job market is. Law school graduates from this year and last, top 10% of their class, lining up for unpaid internships just to get in somewhere, anywhere.

Recession? Depression? You betcha.

I guess one can’t argue that one has been stricken unless one’s really been stricken with one of those terminal diseases. God, I hope I’ve not just done myself in.

Photo: Flickr Commons: Powerhouse Museum Collection

And yet, stricken is how I’ve felt this week. Stricken, to be exact, with what we call in Cantonese (phonetically) “mmm-jee-joy.” Loosely translated, a sense of unease, foreboding: an unsettled-ness that has me peering around every corner, wondering when the next “left hook” or “upper cut” is coming from.

To be clear, all of this refers to the environs of my work, and nothing else. That’s what happens when one can count on only the following axiom: “there is the logical, sensible, efficient, economical way and then there is [our] way.”

Tragically, in such situations, it leaves exceptional employees both under-utilized AND inundated with minutiae as well as disheartened in their efforts and the never-ending nature of bureaucracy and lack of advancement (for the good of the company as well as their own careers—should the two not go hand in hand after all?). And disastrously, at the same time it permits the mediocre ones to continue to fester in their minimal roles, oblivious and not caring about the advancement or benefit of anything, the company or their careers.

I flew to Oxford in June for business. Work has been the culprit to my inability to post updates on life or blog my thoughts for the better part of a year now. Meetings ran 9:00a-5:00p every day while I was there and afforded me little time for sight-seeing. On Thursday, though, we ended by 3:30 and a colleague booted me out of the office for a quick look about town.

She walked me into the “center” of town—or as close as a center there could be in so quaintly small a town—through the Covered Market and left me at the Radcliffe Camera.

Crossroads at the Radcliffe Camera
[I need to learn how to crop better. What the heck is that flagpole doing up there?]

University Church of St. Mary the Virgin

Inside University Church of St. Mary the Virgin

Past the small gift shop at the University Church of St. Mary—parts of which were built between 1280 and 1610—you can take the winding, stone (very claustrophobic) steps up to the top of St. Mary’s tower, which was first structure built of this church. The perch atop the tower provides the best 360° view of Oxford. What better way to “tour” Oxford when one only has an hour or two?

Dome of Radcliffe Camera

All Souls College from atop the tower of St. Mary

Ornaments on the tower of St. Mary

Looking out onto High Street
The ornament said “bleh!”

Oxford skyline

Oxford skyline over High Street
The light gray building between the red and green building houses the University of Oxford Book Shop.

East on High Street and up the Plain

Another view of Radcliffe Camera

Wednesday evening was a late evening at the office for me, and I took the opportunity to capture two very different styles at the office.

Early evening at the office

More offices

A day doesn’t end, it seems, without a trip to the local pub with colleagues.

North on Walton Street

The Anchor, our second pub stop that night

Good times!!!!

That deserved another shot…hahahaha…good times!!!

The Old Parsonage, located at 1 Banbury Road, is just a few minutes walk from the Great Clarendon Street offices of the Press.

The Old Parsonage, on Banbury Road

Fish & Chips @ the Old Parsonage

Jersey Crab Mayonnaise @ the Old Parsonage
Paired with the pinot grigio, this was delicious!

REN toiletries at the Old Parsonage

Pounds & Pence…why aren’t our coins as decorative?

Show up early enough at Heathrow and re-check in a the counter (despite having already checked-in online) and the lovely woman behind the counter just may move you into an exit aisle. Those seats are blocked off when you try to select it online.

But here I was at the ticket counter when she said, “oh, you’re in the middle seat! How uncomfortable for you! Let me see if I can get you a window seat.” After a few minutes of clicking on the computer, she said, “here you go, a window seat in aisle 15, but would you mind? It’s an emergency exit aisle.” Do I mind? Hahahaha! Thank YOU very much! Good times!

Queuing for takeoff at a very busy Heathrow

“No Children This Row” = Exit Aisle!!!!

I caught this bit from the end of a Daily News article about the 30th anniversary of the death of Yankee captain Thurman Munson. Jerry Narron, the rookie who caught the game the day after Munson’s death recalls his first time meeting Yankee great Mickey Mantle in spring training of 1976:

My first day of spring training of 1976 I walk in the door and Mickey Mantle is standing there. So I introduced myself and he introduced himself and he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Well, I just started laughing and said, “No, it’s my pleasure, not yours.” He was such a great guy. He was an outstanding ballplayer but also an outstanding person.

Nowadays, players think they own the world and everyone owes them something. Few recognize that THEY are the ones who are blessed. Blessed with the ability to “play a game” for a living in a profession whose minimum wage in 2009 is $400,000 and which comes with adoring fans and the potential for many commercial endorsements. It is a blessing to be talented enough to be in their place, and yet…it’s all about them most of the time.

To be honest, I don’t really want to be here right now. The truth? We’re just replaceable cogs in a machine which most, like me, think it worthless to continue oiling.

I am wired so oddly. We are all wired so incredibly differently. I wish I was wired a bit better than the way I am.

At 4:18 this morning, Isabelle began to cry. I don’t know if it was the tumultuous thunderstorms or just that she’d gotten up at the same time the night before, but she was awake and needed to be held. We waited a few minutes (you should always give your baby a chance to soothe him/herself to sleep first), and Simone went to her room.

I had put my head back down — knowing, though, that the 4:30 a.m. alarm would sound at any moment — but my thoughts raced. For some reason, I started thinking about my social security card….you know, the card you get when you’re born or (if emigrated) when you become a citizen? For years (almost a decade) and through 2 moves, I’ve kept my card with a stack of old receipts, bound together by a rubber band and tucked away in a file cabinet. It had been removed from a wallet and deposited directly into that file cabinet. Recently, Simone had been doing file clean-up and I started to panic: what if she saw that stack and took it for what it appeared to be, just a stack of very old receipts that needed to be shredded and tossed? Suddenly, from a melancholy and slow awakening, my heart began to pound and my head raced even more. What a way to wake up.

Like I said, I wish I was wired just a little differently sometimes.