Category Archives: Uncategorized

Why I’m Not Going To My 25th High School Reunion

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My 25th High School Reunion is next week, and I’m not going.

It would not be at all inconvenient for me to do so.  In fact, I’ll probably be in the neighborhood!  I simply have no desire.  None.  I’ve been thinking a lot about why, and I just saw a post on Facebook that sums it up very nicely for me.  It said, "If someone wants to be a part of your life, they’ll make an effort to be a part of it."

I think I can count on one hand–maybe two–the number of people from High School who have made an effort to be a part of my Life.  But you know what?  The reverse is also true.  I haven’t made much–if any–effort to be a part of anyone else’s either!  So what does that say?  To me, it says that I and the people with whom I attended High School have nothing in common except for the fact that we all went to High School together.  Why is that any reason to get together?  For me, it’s not.  I went to my 10th reunion.  When my wife (Jeannie) and I sat down at the table we chose when entering the room, the people who were sitting there moved to another one.  How very Lunch Room of them.  If there was anyone there I was actually curious about, I don’t remember it now.  All I remember is being ostracized and preached at by someone who had found religion and seemed bent on making sure my wife and I did too.  It is not an event on which I look back with fondness.  But none of that is a reason not to go now, 15 years later.  People change.  People grow.  The question I ask myself is, do I care?

I have done what I consider to be well for myself and for my family.  I am happy, and I work and spend time with people I consider my friends.  And people who like and respect me make an effort to be a part of my life.  I simply don’t care about anyone else or what they think.  When I mentioned all of this to my sister, she said, "maybe they don’t know how to get ahold of you," to which I replied, "Bullshit. My name is ‘Romeyn Prescott’! Type it into Google."  Go on, do it!  Type "Romeyn Prescott" with quotes into Google.  Your first 4 hits will likely be my personal "signature" site, followed by links to my profile on at least 3 major social networking sites.  And in the top 10 will be a white pages link informing you that there is ONE person named Romeyn Prescott in the U.S.!  Anyone claiming they don’t know how to get ahold of me clearly hasn’t tried. 

Not that they should!  I don’t write this out of self-pity.  I’m not sitting here in Potsdam wondering where everyone went or what they’re doing or why no one ever calls or e-mails.  The ones about which I do care are the ones about which I already know.  Will I look back on this decision with regret one day?  Perhaps.  But I’m a big boy now; I can handle it.  If someone wants to be a part of your life, they’ll make an effort to be a part of it.  I think that effort needs to be a little more substantial than showing up once every 15 years.

I’ll keep an open mind, however.  Maybe I’ll go to the 40th.  Who knows?
 

Process Paralysis

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This morning I was in a meeting discussing a proposed policy change.  What the policy is and who was involved isn’t important.  We were going ’round and ’round about the processes affected by and driving this policy.  It was basically process analysis.  Never one to take a mandate without question if I have one, I was asking a lot of questions.  I finally cut to the heart of the matter and asked, "why can’t the <thingies> have <doodads> on them?"

I was greeted with what I perceived to be a semi-aghast, frustrated shrug at the very notion that such a thing could be possible, which was given audible form by the accompanying statement, "This is the system as it was given to me.  We’ve always done it this way."

I stood up, put both hands on the table, leaned toward the person who made that statement, and firmly but assuringly said, "We. Can. Make. It. BETTER!"

I sat back down.  There was a look of surprise on the face to the person whom I had addressed.  And why not?  We work for the State.  We are entrenched in Bureaucracy.  We have been beaten into submission by a monster of red tape, made to believe that things are too complicated to be changed or that they are the way they are if for no other reason than because they have always been that way.  Why should we have any hope that things could be any way but what they are?

I call this "process paralysis" and it’s ridiculous.  "Policy" isn’t carved in stone somewhere, immutable for all ages, never to be altered.  It can be changed.  And when it makes sense to do so, we should.  We CAN make it better!
 

The Inertia of Change

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A recent InfoWorld article attributes the following quote to Charles Babbage: "Propose to a man any principle, or an instrument, however admirable, and you will observe the whole effort is directed to find a difficulty, a defect, or an impossibility in it. If you speak to him of a machine for peeling a potato, he will pronounce it impossible: If you peel a potato with it before his eyes, he will declare it useless, because it will not slice a pineapple."

That very nicely distills down to its essence my frustration with trying to get anything done that involves by necessity the participation of other people.  I didn’t realize until I read that quote just how maddening this behavior is.  I’ll call it "subconscious obstructionism," because I don’t believe that most people behave this way on purpose.  As soon as I read that all sorts of situations started playing back in my brain and I recognized just how annoying this is.  As soon as you say, "Let’s do <something>," people fall all over themselves to be the first to tell you why that’s a BAD idea.  As I write this, I can’t think of a more soul- and enthusiasm-sucking behavior. 

Proper and responsible analysis of any proposed change has to include consideration of possible negative consequences.  And, obviously, not all ideas are good ideas.  But why leap to that conclusion as a knee-jerk reaction?  Everyone fears change.  But change is inevitable.  If we think of a change as a boat, I’ve decided that I’d rather stick my paddle in the water and attempt to contribute to the boat’s direction rather than just sit there and let it take me wherever it ends up, complaining the whole way that where we were was just fine and why do we have to go to this new place wah-wah-wah. 

In a blog post, Jenica Rogers references Seth Godin:

"There are a million reasons to say no, but few reasons to stand up and say yes.

No requires just one objection, one defensible reason to avoid change. No has many allies–anyone who fears the future or stands to benefit from the status quo. And no is easy to say, because you actually don’t even need a reason.

No is an easy way to grab power, because with yes comes responsibility, but no is the easy way to block action, to exert the privilege of your position to slow things down.

No comes from fear and greed and, most of all, a shortage of openness and attention. You don’t have to pay attention or do the math or role play the outcomes in order to join the coalition that would rather things stay as they are (because they’ve chosen not to do the hard work of imagining how they might be)."

I’m going to start saying "yes" more often, and dig my paddle into that water with as much gusto as I can muster.  And you nay-sayers in the middle of the boat?  Grab your own paddle, shut up, or get out of the boat!
 

My Parents’ Record Collection

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[Submitted to NPR’s All Songs Considered on June 28, 2012]

Born in 1968, I have fond memories of media-based technology.  My first television was a console model–the kind with no remote that took half a minute to warm up and which, when turned off, condensed the picture on the tube to a tiny dot which lingered and then winked out.  Dad had a cassette recorder, the condenser microphone of which got liberal use.  We would record things from the TV by setting the recorder near the speaker and trying very hard to be quiet.  I remember having my own copies of things like the theme from The Mickey Mouse Club, music from Captain Kangaroo, and others. 
Then one day Dad played Spike Jones’ "Cocktails For Two."  I had to have it!  Dad recorded it onto a cassette tape which I am sure I wore out.  I got to the point where I could mimic all of the "hic"s and "glurg"s in the song myself.  Dad had pulled the record from which that tantalizing song came out of a cupboard. I had to see what other treasures existed within!  There was a little bit of everything; Beatles, Elvis, Enoch Light, Tom Lehrer.  Just looking at the covers was fun!  They were works of art all by themselves!

And then one day this cover caught my eye.  I don’t know if it was the pretty lady in the cocktail dress or the fact that she was holding a dead chicken; the fat, bald guy standing on the pedestal playing a guitar or the fact that he was barefoot; or the biggest (what looked like) sausage I had ever seen hanging from a tray being supported by a stone statue of a naked baby.  But I had to know what was on this record!

The album was 1962’s "Allan Sherman’s mother presents: My Son, The Folk Singer".  The melodies of some of the songs were familiar.  I recognized "The Battle Hymn Of The Republic" in "The Ballad of Harry Lewis" and "Greensleeves" in "Sir Greenbaum’s Madrigal," but the lyrics were different.  Many of them were outright funny to me in my pre-pubescent state.  "My Zelda found her big romance, when I broke the zipper in my pants," sounded dirty (though I didn’t know why).  Regardless, it made me giggle.  Listening to Sherman say "Oh boy…" over and over in the midst of a comical string of pop culture references recorded almost 30 years before Billy Joel’s "We Didn’t Start The Fire" had me in fits.  And listening to the back-and-forth between Sherman and Christine Nelson in "Sarah Jackman" (Frére Jaques) was voyeuristic, like picking up on the party line at our camp and putting your hand over the mouthpiece.  But most of the material was over my head and only "funny" because the audience on the album was laughing.

This was my first taste of Borscht Belt humor, though I obviously didn’t know that’s what it was called at the time.  Not being Jewish, I didn’t understand most of the cultural references; not that I would at that age anyhow.  I have spent my life subconsciously tracking them all down.  My research is not overt, but every so often I will hear one and my brain will say, "Ah!  So THAT’S what ‘B’nai B’rith’ means!" or "THAT’S who David Susskind was!"

Judging by the reaction of the audience on the album, if nothing else, Sherman is hilarious without working blue.  I spent many hours listening, re-listening, and singing along to that record.  There are some references to which I am still not hip.  In this day of Wikipedia it would be trivial for me to track down each and every one about which I have question.  But there’s no romance in that.  My subconscious research continues.  Though I do wish someone would explain why the line "Stein with an ‘e-i’ and Styne with a ‘y’" is funny…

Thoughts on Internet Privacy

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Today is the day Google’s new Privacy Policy goes into effect.  I haven’t read it.  I might.  I know what I know about it from news reports and blogs.  I figured today would be as good a day as any to polish up this work-in-progress and finally post it.  So here you are.

I continue to fail to understand the notion that on "the Internet" everyone SHOULD be anonymous by default and "going public" is an opt-in scenario.  In this information age, this is an antiquated way of doing things. 

Damn near everything we do–those of us who aren’t hermits or luddites–IS trackable by default.  So when do we stop treating the privacy wonks like they’re the majority?  ARE they the majority?  Do MOST people truly care about this?  (We could argue forever about whether or not they should…but that’s not my point.)

We Americans have a long history of hanging on to things for no other reason than because we always have.  It’s why you can still ride your horse down the middle of main street and cars have to wait for you.  It’s why a hundred years from now merchants will still be obligated to accept hard currency as payment.  And it’s why now, when (I assert) most people don’t give a damn about their privacy, as evidenced by the millions who join Facebook and never alter the default security settings and who never EVER read a EULA or a privacy statement, a vocal minority cries "foul!" in their name when companies do what they said they would do–track everything you do.

I. Don’t. Care.

I think I used to.  Maybe.  And I reserve the right to some day change my mind and start caring about this again.  But these companies don’t care about "me".  Or you.  Or anyone else.  They care about aggregate data which they analyze to determine trends and target information, most notably advertising.  This has been going on for as long as advertising has existed.  You don’t send catalogs advertising fur coats to Hawaii.  That’s a no-brainer.  As someone with something to sell and a limited advertising budget, you want to know who is most likely to buy your stuff.  Information such as browsing histories and even the contents of your e-mail is all tossed together to help companies get the biggest bang for their advertising dollar.
And I’m good with that.  I know the potential to abuse this information exists.  But I’m willing to take my chances.  The argument that those who advocate for Privacy Rights must have something to hide is crap and I know it.  I’m not making that argument.  But I really don’t have anything to hide.  So I personally don’t see the point of bothering to.  I live my daily existence making three assumptions:

  1. Everything I type on any computer anywhere is being seen and read by everyone, everywhere.
  2. Everything I say on any telephone is being heard by everyone, everywhere.
  3. Every time I leave my house, someone is taking my picture.

I assume those three things and behave accordingly.  Is that sad?  Is it "giving in"?  Maybe.  But in my analysis, it’s far easier to "own" my behavior and its consequences than it is to exercise the level of paranoia and subsequent action that would be necessary to obviate those three assumptions.  I don’t want to live like that!  There are some things that simply must be kept private and secret because People Suck.  Things like your Social Security number, bank account info, and passwords/PINs for accessing them.  But the rest of it?  Meh.  Google/Facebook/Twitter/Pinterest are all welcome to it!
 

Little Things That Remind Me Why I Love My Job

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Things are uncertain where I work.  Some if it is because of where I work and what the economic downturn has done.  Some of it is because the the world of I.T. is poised on the cusp of massive change.  The Old Ways, tried and true though they may be, are about to be swept away.  Dealing with an industry that thrives on innovation and rapid advancement (I.T.) while working in Academia, the essence of which seems to deny rapidity at any level is challenging during the best of times.  Add to the mix what is perhaps the most convoluted State bureaucracy in the nation and leadership operating under the misguided notion that 64 distinct entities can somehow all be the same just because they’re all in the same State and, well, I’ll say it again: Things are uncertain where I work.

It’s easy to let all of this get to you if you think about it too much.  It’s depressing, really.  As someone blessed with more than his fair share of Common Sense, working in such an environment can be a soul-sucking experience.  No one is empowered to or takes the initiative to make serious decisions without first holding series of meetings involving scads of "stakeholders" under the misguided belief that everyone must be happy with the decision that needs to be made.  More often than not this leads to nothing getting accomplished.  But at least everyone’s happy!

And then there are the specific incidents of nonsense.  Just today I was called to one of my computer labs to open up the backs of the tables where the cabling is run.  The fire inspector had noted that there was a power strip plugged into a power strip.  This apparently is a no-no.  So I get there and am greeted by someone who points me to the table in question.  I open it up and proceed to go around the room opening all of the rest of the tables too.  This person was confused.  "They only said that one," I was informed.  I smiled, and said, "I can guarantee you there are at least three more of those hookups in this room!"  "But," she sputtered, "we were only told about that one…"  "Wrong is wrong," I said, "If it’s wrong there, then it’s wrong everywhere.  And if it needs fixing, it needs fixing everywhere.  We’re going to do this right or we’re not going to do it at all!"  Exasperated, she said (again), but they only found that ONE!"  "Oh, so we’re legal-’til-we’re-caught on all of the other ones??" I exclaimed.  She looked mortified and almost shushed me, like I had said something horrific–a Truth that dare not be spoken.  "I’m going to have to call my supervisor…"  "You go ahead and do that," I urged, "I’ll have that conversation with [name]!!"

Why did I even need to have that conversation?  It’s pointless crap like that which wears me down.  Until the really cool stuff happens.

I have a good deal of flexibility in my job.  I can chain myself to my desk if I so choose, dispatching assistants to the labs and classrooms to do "hands-on" work when it needs doing.  I can also go myself.  After the incident with the power strips, I decided to go in search of why I love working here.  I found it in a couple of places.  I had an appointment in a professor’s office to try and figure out why his computer had no network connection.  This professor is a vocal coach.

At this point I must explain something about being "The I.T. Guy."  The I.T. Guy is generally revered.  Usually when we show up, it’s to "save the day" from the perspective of the person whom we are there to help.  Indeed, most people can’t get out from behind their desks fast enough so we can sit down and "work our magic."  Most of them do so and proceed to go about their business as if we are not there.  This allows us to experience all sorts of cool stuff!  I have had more interesting conversations with people from all sorts of academic disciplines than I can count; just because I was in their office working on their computer for 20 minutes.  It’s awesome.

Back to the vocal coach.  I’m sitting in his office troubleshooting his computer while sitting at his piano.  Yes, piano.  Everyone in Crane has a piano in their office, and the network jack just happened to be next to his.  So I’m sitting at the piano doing my thing while he coaches his student on a cappella improvisation while singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."  She’s doing well, but clearly in too low a register.  "You probably ought to start with C," he said.  I instinctively reach down and hit middle C on the keyboard.  There is the slightest flicker of surprise (yet approval) on his face for just an instant as he nods at his student who finds her note and proceeds.  I was part of her lesson for the day!  And I got to listen to her sing.

This sort of thing happens to me all the time.  The "hero" there to save the day is frequently invited to stick around, sometimes even to participate in the lecture/discussion to which he has been privy the last 20 minutes while he "figures it out."  Sometimes I do.  Most times I don’t.  Too much to do!

I finished the work day in a basement lab putting the finishing touches on a problem that had gone on far too long with too many "cooks" involved who were about to spoil the soup.  There is something very satisfying about kicking them all out of the virtual kitchen, rolling up your sleeves, and just making the soup, dammit!  Because you know how, how it should be done, and can "just do it."  I did it.  And it was indeed satisfying.

It is opportunities like those that make putting up with all the rest of the bullshit worth it.  I could go on about how working in the presence of a few thousand 18-22 year olds keeps you young at heart, but that’s fodder for another post, another day.  I LOVE my job.  More than that, I love where I get to do it.  Change is coming, yes.  And bureaucracy will never die.  But at least I get to experience all of it HERE.

Born Free, Taxed To Death

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I was about to usurp a Facebook friend’s wall for this, but thought better of it.  No longer a village of Potsdam resident, she commented on yesterday’s vote to NOT dissolve the village; recalling that the tax burden was too much for her, but that the majority of current residents "apparently likes it this way."

Yes I do!  Here’s why:

Tangibles: Most notably water & sewer.  I don’t know what it costs to maintain one’s own water supply and waste disposal system, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.  I do know that they are NOT trouble-free.  Lit streets where you can walk at night in safety on maintained sidewalks.

Intangibles (i.e., "variable" : Living in the village, I can practically walk most places.  Even if I choose to drive (and I usually do), it’s not far.  It costs me $0.25/mile to operate my car. (All gas and other expenses since I’ve owned it…there’s an app for that!)  If I move, say, 5 miles away from where I work, putting me outside the village, that gives me a 10 mile commute.  Figure a liberal 250 workdays a year, that’s $625 just getting back and forth to work, nevermind errands into town for life’s other essentials.  Two people work?  Two cars?  Do the math.  It adds up fast!  A friend of mine lives about 25 miles from work.  If it costs him the same amount to operate his vehicle ($0.25), he spends over $3,000 a year just going back and forth to work!

I could go on, but those things alone put me close to my Village tax bill all by themselves. 

People who choose to locate, be it residentially or commercially, inside the Village do so because they ascribe value and benefit to being located there where there are sidewalks, trash and yard waste removal, where you are within ready walking distance of our shops and restaurants, and where you don’t have to maintain a well or a septic system.  I know I don’t speak for everyone on this matter, but some of us are willing to pay for those benefits and don’t find our taxes unreasonable.

People who don’t want those benefits–those who don’t think it’s worth the added cost–locate outside the Village.  They pay a different price in the way of relative inconvenience.  Having to maintain those systems I listed themselves and having to get in their cars to do almost anything.  It boils down to personal preference.  No one is "right" or "wrong."  Life for some people is likely cheaper outside the village, if you calculate "cheaper" by simply looking at tax bills.  But I submit it’s way more complicated than that. 

Sick of Spit, Baling Wire, Band Aids, and Duct Tape

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I apologize in advance if this seems remarkably self-indulgent.  On the other hand, it’s a personal blog–I’m allowed to vent here!

I preface this with the following statement:  I love my job!  There are good days and bad days, as there are with anyone doing anything.  But my good days far outnumber the bad ones, and even on the worst, I still enjoy what I do.  But man, things really suck right now. 

I manage and maintain a little less than 600 computers on our campus, almost single-handedly.  That any of them work at all right now is incredible.  I am professionally ashamed of the house of cards that is the foundation on which nearly everything "works" and relies.  What was once a decent, robust, and streamlined system is now showing the signs of far-too-long a period of "just-in-time" management by yours truly.  If my System were a body, it’s suffering from a multitude of paper cuts to which I keep applying band-aids.  Eventually I need to do major surgery, but I have no idea when.

I need at least a week of uninterrupted time in a dark room with headphones on, no phones, and no people.  A week might do it.  Maybe more.  But I can’t even manage to take a "vacation," so when the hell is a week’s worth of system surgery supposed to happen?  Who will keep up with the band aids in the E.R. while I’m elbows-deep in viscera?

Nobody.  That person doesn’t work here.  There is no one with nothing to do, no one with room on their plate.

And I’m exhausted.
 

Dear…:

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A confluence of craptacularity has happened to me in the last 14 hours.  I’m ready to explode and don’t know where else to direct it, so here you go.

—–
Dear Internet:

When reading e-mail with non-specific time-based references, PLEASE pay attention to the date/time stamp of the message!  When I write you an e-mail at 9:30 on, say, a Tuesday night and tell you that I’ve scheduled a meeting with you "tomorrow" because your calendar says you’re free, don’t read it on Wednesday morning and assume I mean Thursday.  Oh, and check your calendar more than once a week, mmkay?

—–
Dear Users of Technology:

Despite what the Staples chain of office products stores would have you believe, there is no "Easy Button."  Technology is complicated.  Would it kill you to even TRY to understand the stuff you are trying to use and say you need?  Or ask for help?  (And no, I do not define "help" as "just come here and make it work for me.")

—–
Dear Everyone On Campus:

Leaving notes that "this" is broken on the thing that is broken will NOT get it fixed!  You need to call someone and tell them it’s broken.  There are no SUNY Potsdam elves that run around checking "everything" to make sure it’s working.  I wish there were.

—–
Dear Road Warriors:

How about you travel with more than just a flash drive with your PowerPoint on it, hmm?  If you’re going to traverse this great State/Nation regaling the masses with whatever it is you have to share, it’s folly to assume that wherever-you-are-today will meet your tech requirements.  You should travel with, at a minimum, your own laptop AND projector.  (They make them really small these days!)  Oh, and actually knowing how to login to and navigate the basics of Windows XP, Vista, 7, and the MacOS would be a good idea too when you decide to rely on the IT resources provided by your speaking venue.

Most sincerely,
Romeyn
 

Smaller Versions Of My Stuff

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I have never been the most organized person in the world.  I have inherited the habit of making "piles" from my father.  I think of it as "organized clutter."  I know where everything is, but it’s usually not well-organized.  This is slowly changing.  In fact, I think I have a problem!
I love pockets.  I don’t know why.  There’s something so…so NEAT about a tiny little space just the right size for "something."  As an I.T. professional who helps a lot of people with their computing issues, it behooves me to travel prepared for anything I might encounter.  A few years ago I got a new work-issued notebook computer and decided to splurge on a new bag with which to carry it.  After a lot of looking and research, I settled on the Hamptons Hybrid from bbpbags.com.  This bag is incredible.  Pockets in pockets in pockets, with a zipper-access sleeve so you can get right at the computer without otherwise opening the bag.  The strap converts so you can wear it over one shoulder, as a messenger bag, or as a low-slung backpack.

As I write this, I am in Atlanta, Georgia a day before the annual Labman Conference.  Not yet ready for bed, I decided to inventory my bag and show you what I carry around on a daily basis.  Here is all the stuff I carried with me on my trip:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can see there are 2 bags and my vest.  (More on the vest later.)  The tan bag has my clothing and toiletries.  The black bag is my Hamptons Hybrid.  Here is a list of its contents:

  • MacBook Pro (17")
  • Power Adapter for MacBook Pro
  • USB A <–> B Cable
  • File Folders (2)
  • CD/DVD case (multiple utility and OS restoration disks)
  • Over-ear headphones
  • FireWire 400 <–> MiniDV cable (for connecting to a camcorder) (2)
  • FireWire 800 <–> MiniDV cable (for connecting to a camcorder)
  • FireWire 400 <–> 800 cable
  • USB Card Reader
  • FireWire 800 cables (3…?  Don’t know why I have 3!  I only need one.)
  • Freeloader and cable for iPhone. (Solar- or USB-charged battery for iPhone/iPod/iPad)
  • Multimeter (tests continuity, AC, and DC voltage)
  • iPhone case
  • iPhone cables (2)
  • AC <–> USB 2-port charger
  • USB <–> Mini USB cables (2)
  • Black Pen
  • Red Pen
  • Black Sharpie
  • Mechanical Pencil
  • USB Extension
  • VGA Cable
  • Apple Mini Display Port <–> VGA adapter
  • Ethernet Cables (2)
  • Deck of cards
  • Keys
  • 1/8" stereo headphone male-male cable
  • 1/8" stereo headphone female-female adapter
  • In-ear stereo headphones (earbuds)
  • USB WiFi network adapter
  • Small locking pliers
  • AC <–> USB charger
  • Assorted mini screwdriver kit
  • AC 3-prong <–> 2-prong adapter

Contents:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The Hybrid Hamptons bag also enclosed my iPad bag.  THAT contains:

  • Contact lens case
  • Black Pen
  • Blue Pen
  • Mechanical Pencil
  • Highlighter
  • Business Cards
  • Mini Composition Notebook
  • Regular Composition Notebook
  • iPad
  • iPad charger
  • iPad cable

Contents:

I also wore my Fleece 5.0 ScotteVest (sans sleeves).  This thing is incredible in its own right.  If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.  24 pockets!!  Mine routinely contains:

  • Blue pen
  • Mechanical Pencil
  • Notepad (3×5 spiral)
  • Bluetooth headset
  • iPhone earbuds
  • Fingernail clippers
  • 1/8" stereo headphone splitter
  • iPhone in-ear headphones

And for this trip it has 4-5 napkins just in case.

All of that stuff.  In 1, well-designed, well-packed and completely manageable bag and one incredibly-designed vest.

As I look back on this after having typed it, I realize that I can never ever make fun of purse-carrying women again!!  All totaled, that’s about 70 different things, if I don’t get stupid and count each playing card individually.

Am I a hoarder?  Or am I just (overly) prepared?