Guns n Curry n Friendship.

A good friend of mine organized an evening for his Scottish friends living in LA to meet up over dinner.   Sort of a Scottish gentleman's club, without the implications that the phrase "gentleman's club" might have.

The premise was simple.

Why not have an evening where everyone was understood, and their accents were only an issue to the restaurant staff.  We had a shared understanding of humor and a strong cultural link.

I could call someone an eejit and not only would they know what I meant, they'd know I was just having fun.

We had a great night, which included suggestions about what to do when we meet up next time.  I suggested we go to a gun club, as this is one of the most alien aspects of American culture to me.   And let's face it, it would be both exciting and relatively safe in such a controlled environment.  We  decided we should also add a particularly Scottish activity - and there are few things more Scottish than going to an Indian restaurant.

We agreed to call the next evening "Guns n Curry" - which sounded to us like the name for a Scottish "Guns n Roses" tribute band.  We predicted that we'd be singing "Sweet Japati of Mine" by the end of the evening.

I've just sent out an email and we've all agreed that we're not going to a gun club anymore.  We don't need a gun experience right now.

There's a lot of talk right now about gun control and new laws and services.  It's good that there is and I hope that something good comes of it.  However, I think we need to act as individuals as well. 

If you have a gun, I believe it is your obligation to reconsider whether you should have such a weapon.  Your gun(s) will probably never protect you and your family.  In fact, it is more likely that they will be used to inflict harm on you or your family.

I believe that it is the actions that we make as individuals, that will ultimately make lasting change.  And so I hope that you personally decide to get rid of your guns.

The Glasgow Garam Masala evening will now take place in early in the New Year...without the risk of any  rock anthems being badly sung with Scottish accents.


I'd love to get your comments
  -Do you have a gun and think I am wrong to ask to you to consider getting rid of it?  If so, why?

First Things First.

Image via WikipediaForgive me for not blogging sooner, I'd don't think I've been so busy since...well since I don't know when.  My every waking moment has been all about our new website StageNStream.com and live streaming theatre from the Hollywood Fringe.  I'm certain I'll blog about that later, but first we have hit a monumentous moment in out relocation to America.

NOW WE ALL HAVE GREEN CARDS!!!!!

I can't really explain what that means to us.  We hid, or coped with, the stress of not being permanent residents for two and half years.  It became just a 'normal' frustration, always there and seemingly, out of our control.  At times we felt foolish for buying our house, how stupid to buy a house in a country where you aren't even considered to be a permanent resident.

The cards themselves arrived with no obvious logic to order or timescale.  When I got mine, I felt such relief that I welled up and struggled to keep the British stiff upper lip.  However that was nothing, as we had to wait the longest for my youngest son's card.  His card arrived on Tuesday last week, I opened it just before I headed off to set up for my live streaming marathon at the Hollywood Fringe.  I was a mess, all stressed from my project and astonished that we were now in a new phase of our American adventure.  Not a pretty sight.

Obviously, our four year old had no idea what this meant, though that day he did bring home a painting of the stars and stripes from pre-school.

Our 8 year old, however, knew exactly what this meant, "Does this mean we can get a pet hamster, now that we're allowed to stay?"

And bang! We're back to the grind of the everyday.  But this time we're 'normal', just like everyone else.  Trying to earn a living, trying to fit in kids' birthday parties and deal with the everyday pressures.  No more trips to our immigration attorney, no more $5,000 checks to the USCIS and no more figuring out what achievements might persuade the lovely person in Nebraska; who ultimately decided that we could stay.

In a way, it feels like we've just arrived.  That we've been in some strange in-between land for the last few years.  Suddenly we've landed.  Ok so we've not American citizens yet, but we are here on a permanent basis.  In some ways the UK has become a foreign land to us and some parts of American culture have become so much a part of us, that we no longer notice them.

We finally seem to be starting this phase on a more level playing field with the rest of America.  We have social security numbers, permanent resident cards and a hunger to work hard and do the best we can.

To close this chapter I have to say that there's one thing that I've consistently found refreshing from the moment we arrived in the USA.  Here, generally, though obviously not always, people are happy and confident to pile praises on those around them who do good work.  So in keeping with my permanent resident status, I can't recommend our immigration attorney more highly.  We saw a lot of attorney's before choosing him.  He was open, honest, straightforward and, here's the clincher, he was the only one who actually had a strategy for our application.  Thank you, Tucker Sandler!

Job Search

Image via Wikipedia I've got a little more serious in my job search.  Before I was more tentative, not wishing to lose my position as primary parent, but now I feel I need to work.  Money would be nice, motorcycles and fancy living would be lovely, but actually I think the need comes from wanting to contribute to a team effort and, if I'm honest, wanting to have something else to talk about other than toilet training, schools and stroppy behavior.  [Stroppy is apparently a British word according to the spell checker. If I tell you that in the UK, the phrase it's most used with is "stroppy teenager," I doubt you'll need to look it up...]

I've modified my CV into a resume and it's spelt correctly for its target audience - though I struggle with the UK Ministry of Defence as I don't feel I can change its name to defense, but I know it must still irk an American eye or two.

I signed up with a recruitment website and even paid them money for their pro service.  As you may expect, I hate spending money on this type of thing.  Well, actually I hate spending money on anything that doesn't have wheels and /or burn petrochemicals, but that's another story. What I've discovered is that there is an acute level of specialization in job specifications over here.  I guess the market and the organizations are bigger and so the jobs can be narrower.

So far I have more luck / interest through my Craigslist applications and have even had my first interview.  The jobs on Craigslist seem to be much more fluid and some are even outcome based, e.g. I need help to achieve better web presence, greater efficiency, etc.

Then finally on the paid for service, I saw a project manager job with a list of competences and skills I felt I could easily and effectively demonstrate.  Hmm, am I beginning to change my language already? Anyway, I click on the 'apply on the company website" button.  The company website has an additional requirement not mentioned on my paid for website... "Candidate must have built at least 3 jails."  I still can't help but laugh at that phrase.  I've seen news reports and read articles about how many Americans are incarcerated, but really how many people can say that they've built 3 jails?  Surely only a handful of project managers are eligible.

It gets better when I find another job advert with similar competences... click.... "Candidate must have built at least 2 hospitals."  Must be trickier to find good project managers who've built hospitals so they've dropped their normal requirement by a third.  Though I guess no matter what kind of economy we're experiencing, there's always a need for jails and hospitals.

Overall I'm quite liking looking for work, as it's quickly become a voyage of discovery into American culture and, let's face it, that's why I'm here.

Notes.

Image by Paul Watson via FlickrI don't like to take notes, but now I think I should.

Once upon a time I used to take copious notes; whilst I endured High School, whilst I studied for my electronics degree and when I started my first proper job.  Then I discovered I did better without them.

It was during my MBA that I met an interesting chap called Harry Humble and he didn't take notes during lectures.  He said that writing notes stopped him listening properly and meant he'd miss out on understanding.  He was right.  Though it turned out his real name was Mark, he just prefered to be called Harry for the double 'H'.  As I said, he's an interesting chap.

When I don't take notes, I learn more.  When I don't take notes, I have more time to interact and explore more.  However, there's two minor issues.  First, all of those years taking notes and the consensus that it's the normal and right thing to do, means that it's a difficult habit to kick.  So to help wean yourself of the habit, you have to come prepared not to take notes; which is a more positive way of saying you have neither pen nor paper.  So what if you have to remember a non-relevant fact, like an address or a phone number?  Well, that's what smart phones are for.

But now I have a new foible to the no notes policy.  When you tell your wife about a minor detail of the American, stay-home Dad experience and she laughs.  And she doesn't just laugh a little bit.  She really laughs, hard. Then she says, "There's a blog in that."  And you agree, it's a great idea.  And the next night you find yourself writing about how you don't like to take notes, because you've no idea what that blog was to be about.

Guilty

The guilt trip starts here.

I feel like I achieved nothing last week.

Monday was probably the best day of the week.  My youngest had a trike-athon at his pre-school.  He was the epitome of awesome. (I must be proper a American now just by using the 'awesome' word.)  Initially all the kids were a little confused.  My guy just kept shoving his oversized rollerskate thing into the back of whoever was unfortunate enough to get in the way.  So I told him to go around and overtake his class mates.  Well he liked this and so he immediately turned the procession into a race.  Not a normal race as he was the only one racing, but by the end of it there was no doubt as to who had won.  My boy did 8 laps and his closest rival did 5.

He didn't win because it wasn't a race, however if there ever is a race he will have the mental advantage through his performance that day!

When I picked him up from pre-school later on, he seemed a little warm.  After we'd been home for about 30 minutes he was definitely hot and so I immediately gave him some paracetamol to lower his temperature.  Young kids can be susceptible to febrile convulsions due to fevers and there has been some history in our family, so we never take chances.

And that was the beginning of the end of my week.  He was fine all day Tuesday - and so he should have been, Dad was on hand at a moments notice for his every whim.  He wasn't lethargic and was fever free, so I took him back to pre-school on Wednesday.  By 10:30 he was back home, having had another mild fever.  He had another episode later in the day and so I took him to see the doctor on Thursday morning.  Apparently he had a mild bronchitis, so he has yet more antibiotics and had to stay home on Friday too.

In my mind, throughout the week I failed to give the level of care and attention to my son that I should have.  At the same time, I had tried to continue to progress my existing projects and tasks, but ultimately I had failed to make headway as much as I thought I could have.  I felt that I should have taken him to see the Doctor on Tuesday, not waited till Thursday and that I should have been able to focus my time more effectively to achieve more.

When I talked to Lynn about how rotten I felt about the week, I discovered that this is not an uncommon experience for the stay at home parent.  As ever, she managed to sum the whole thing up in a sentence.  "When you're looking after a sick child, you earn a PhD in Guilt."

So I am trying to cut myself some slack.  No one was hurt.  I juggled one sick kid, one healthy child's school schedule and still managed to progress some of my project commitments.  It's not a race and even if it were, it's not a race that can be won.

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