Sincerest Flattery
October sunset from my apartment building. Compare with June.
NOVA has had some brilliant autumn days. I have been too busy locked away with computers to significantly experience them, sigh. I console myself (ahem) that in this isolation I also missed the cold rainy days and may miss the piggy flu. (“NOVA” is the local shorthand for Northern Virginia, connoting “new and exciting” or else “doesn’t go“. Take your choice.)
I am blogging today because rain drenches the gold and red leaves. When weekend weather has allowed I have taken an afternoon to bike further up the C & O trail. You don’t need more pictures of that just now. My sloppy knee feels better from biking. That’s a wonderful reprieve, because last winter I was almost scheduled to have the knee replaced. Bionic or not, the technology lasts only 15 years, more if you sit perfectly still, less if you actually use the knee. I am glad to put that off. A new friend is not so fortunate, and will be going under the knee knife soon.
Thursday I saw a show, Musical of Musicals, the Musical! It was about 30 minutes away in Alexandria, at the Metro Stage, a theater that seats about 90. Imagine taking the memorable songs and lines from the big Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals–Oklahoma!, Carousel, South Pacific, The King and I, The Sound of Music, Cinderella, et cetera, et cetera. Chop these into phrases. Stir vigorously. Compress into one 15-minute scene. Serve over an energetic accompaniment almost but not quite quoting “Surrey” and “Climb Ev’ry Mountain”, and you have just the first of five scenes.
Musical of Musicals (the Musical) is intense. When Big Willy sings a tune resembling “Oh what a beautiful morning,” a verse I remember goes like this:
The chipmunk is reading the Bible,
With the lark that is learning to pray.
Impossible? It is not;
You’ve got to be carefully taught!
The allusions never let up! There were five performers, counting the piano player who would wryly comment on the manic action. The effect was part clever parody, part happy homage, and all from the heart. At first the firehose of Broadway references was so relentless I could scarcely chuckle for fear of missing something. Dance, set changes, and props also were thoroughly milked. The other four scenes gave similar treatments to Sondheim, Herman, Webber, and to Kander & Ebb. The feel of the music shifted masterfully from Rodgers and Hammerstein schmalzando (™ Nora D) to atonal Sondheim and beyond. The show ended with the number “Done”, from A Chorus Line as composed in some alternate universe. I wobbled off in a daze. This would be worth experiencing again to catch the bits I missed. But time is dear.
Confession: I aspire to be imitated. I want to be imitated not because I’m particularly vain. I want other people to imitate my work so I don’t have to work. Take my computer work, for example. Imagine about a dozen cabinets each about seven feet tall. None is labeled. Each of these racks has a dozen or twenty drawers in it–none of them labeled. From each drawer run multiple wires, none of them labeled. The software inside each drawer/computer is likewise not particularly cataloged. Now, do you label your own computer? If you had two, would you label each one? Would you tag three computers? This complex grew by such little steps to quite a tangle. So I amuse my co-workers by labeling and cataloging and indexing stuff. If you know me, you know I am far from a compulsive neatnik. Nevertheless, when sanity and survival are threatened, I can get organized. I propose changes before I do ‘em, and log what I do, and am building an operations manual of “how to” notes. Such notes benefit me as noob and a forgetful person. But the deeper principle is not entirely in the notes themselves, but also in the practice, to “show, not tell”, to practice then preach. If everyone chips in on best practices, the office can survive an individual’s vacation or flu-absence. Maybe I can get out more often. Impossible? It is not.
