10/23/07: What if...?

What if the Hokey Pokey is what it’s all about? Once again I found myself amused by something very silly and insignificant. I read that on a t-shirt this afternoon and laughed out loud. It’s great when life causes you to laugh out loud. I was wasting away at a trade show today, hoping that each person that came in the general vicinity of my booth would keep walking. I find most trade shows to be about as fruitful as walking down the beach with a metal detector. In the parlance of this Dilbert Generation, this show was a veritable Barney Fest. (I love you, you love me….) We generated exactly one (1) lead today, and I think I’ve actually talked to that guy before. It’s like going to that one good nightclub in a small town. You see the same people every time, and yet you have to act like there’s something new to talk about and that you don’t know what’s going on in every else’s corner of the industry. There was a lot of head nodding; a lot of arms folded head nodding (the “I’m listening, engaged and intrigued by what you are saying”); a lot of arms crossed, with the right hand holding the chin (the “I’m listening, and you are saying something so profound that I have to ponder it for a minute before responding” or “you sure are full of yourself and talk so much, that I’m really just doing this to look intrigued and can think of nothing except that when a segue presents itself I’m cutting this short and leaving you standing here); and of course plenty of people just looking generally disinterested and looking around the room.

But what if putting your left foot in and your left foot out and shaking it all about is what it’s all about. I sat in a whole lot of traffic today and had plenty of time to think about all kinds of stuff, not the least of which involved “what it’s all about”. I thought about work. I thought about family. I thought about friends, old and new. I thought about the lady that I always see on the corner of 17th and Castro on most days, begging for change when I get off the freeway on my way home. I thought about whether or not I’m supposed to try to help her when I see her, or if I’m supposed to help everyone that I see that is less fortunate than myself. I wonder if I should befriend her or bring her some food, or ask her name or pray for her. For the time being, I resolved to do the best I can, and whatever I can.

I ended up hanging out with some friends this evening and having a pretty good time. We went to have some so-so Cuban food and then went to hear some live music at another spot in San Francisco’s Mission District. This place renewed all of our interest in going to Brazil. There we stood, arms folded, bobbing our heads to the samba rhythms of the Boca Do Rio band.

Intrigued? Indeed. Engaged? Absolutely. It seems as though Brazilians, by nature, have an unfair advantage when it comes to having fun. It’s like a whole country was born with the fun gene and the rest of us have to try to develop it like we might develop a singing voice or a left hand.

The band’s drummer really had it going. He was workin’ the timbales, the bongos, and even a tambourine. San Francisco is an amazing city. I love the fact that on any given night, you’ve got so many cultural options to entertain yourself. Well, that’s it for tonight. I’m sure glad my 11th grade English teacher isn’t grading this and forcing me to write a suitable conclusion to this little personal essay. Nos vemos…