"DUDE!!! Did you hear that?!! That was my skuulllll."
- Sean Penn, Fast Times At Ridgemont High

"Waw wa WA waw WA WA"
- The Teacher from any of the Peanut's cartoons

"Your lips are moving but I can't hear what you say."
- from Comfortably Numb

"My brain hurts."
- from the Gumbys (Monty Python)

January 28th, 2004

Information overload - it's a terrible thing.

I don't want you to be deceived by the title of this rant. This is not the "mind fried" of too many extra legal drugs or the feeling of watching a three day Teletubbies marathon. No, that's not the feeling I'm talking about.

You know that feeling I'm talking about. College students usually experience it during final exams week. WWII paratroopers experienced it right before the invasion of Normandy when they had to know the exact geography of 3 separate coast lines. It happens when you have to know a vast amount of information backward and forward with very little time to absorb it. Or when you just have to know several things very intimately in a very short amount of time and everything hangs on the condition of whether you know it or not.

I'm going through that last scenario right now with work.

Normally, I have no problems assimilating the average project plan and new technology. I try to either look at it as a sophisticated game or as the script to a part I've been assigned to play in a show. I find with that outlook the absorption process comes into play a lot easier. However, this time the stakes are just a bit higher and my mind isn't what it used to be.

My company in its infinite idiocy has assigned me one of the highest profile projects it has. Normally, that's not a problem. But couple this with the fact they just SCREWED me on my last annual appraisal, I'm less than enthused with playing my "pretend it's an acting role" game. Pile on top of that the fact that I not only have to know this project for me, BUT I have to know it well enough to train 4 or 5 offshore development QA people who will be my responsibility to coordinate a test strategy plan. Add to that the event of every workday morning of speaking intelligently on a conference call with India that would take place at 6:AM to accommodate the time difference between here and there. Doing that without hallucinating about animated "Care Bears" will be a major achievement.

It's a bit overwhelming.

I knew the project was going to be daunting when the requirements document was over 50 pages in length with appendices. I got wind of the length of the document 2 days before I went in for my last surgery. The moment I got back from the hospital I printed out a copy. I attempted to ingest this document like bulimic at a buffet table. It was too much data to assimilate at that point. I knew this document was going to need several passes. Also, one of reasons for the first pass readings was for QA to determine whether or not the document was valid and whether or not the product in question could actually be tested with that document as a baseline. Three revisions later (and counting) a high level design document might be written from that.

The first mistake I made was to read the document while I was medicated with Vicodin. This was a precautionary step from my surgeon to take care of any pain I might have while I heal from the operation. I realized that no matter how much coffee I drank and how much studying I did I would always have the comprehension ability of the average Joe listening to the "Peanut's" teacher talk to Charlie Brown (Waw WA WA waw WA waw waw). Vicodin and concentration don't mix.

After a week of weaning myself off of the medication and attempting to study, I was starting to get a formation of the entire application and how it was going to work. It was hazy, but it was hopeful.

That was when real trouble began. I thought I'd be home free when my boss told me that this project would be the only one I'd be working on.

No, no, no, it seemed like God's personal cat toy was going to have some more games to play.

I was to finish the projects I had already started. One of which was testing a new form of CLEAR (an FTP UNIX utility used for encryption). My problem is that I don't know UNIX at all. So, I had to learn UNIX basics. Two of the offshore developers (who incidentally are two super nice guys and were very patient with my idiocy) showed me basic UNIX commands. Unfortunately, it looked as if there was very little RAM space left between my two ears and the words and concepts nestled temporarily in my head then evaporated into the netherworld. I tried to take notes but I'm a notoriously bad note taker and, upon reflection, it was a complete waste of time.

Somewhere in the middle of the demonstration I felt my brain go, "BzzzzzzzzzzzzzT...POP!" and all I could think of was the fact that "I like ice cream." I feigned amebic dysentery then thanked my two UNIX teachers for their kindness and time.

By the end of the session, I needed a cigarette.

Of course, that meant me bundling up in heavy winter gear due to the machinations of Mayor "Idiot Smoking Nazi" of New York City and going outside in the freezing cold weather. I grabbed my coworker Pravin for some company and we headed outside. He and I started talking on our way to the elevator. I heard his voice. I saw him speak. He said words. But other than that, I couldn't understand him at all. I had reached maximum capacity. We got outside and I started to babble about... something. I think the best thing I did was to not drool on myself in mid puff. I finished my cigarette and could feel the RAM space start to clear in my head. Pravin started to say words I could understand and I figured that if I took another 10 minutes for myself I'd be okay.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. I had to explain the minutes of the last few data feed meetings and faster then you can say "data warehouse" I was a babbling idiot again.

Next came another project I had to put to bed. This was for the secretary of the corporate CEO. I initially took this project as being a "slam dunk" as I knew the developer was very competent and the project manager was quite good. Unfortunately, no one managed to cement a set of requirements for this project. That meant the scope of what we had to do for the production release really could not be verified. So rather than this being an exercise in intelligence it was one of patience and diplomacy. This assignment started in the beginning of January and is still a problem as of this writing.

So, what can I say? I have found my intelligence has definite limits. That was disturbing. In addition, I'm putting my capacity for patience to an extreme test. That is dangerous.

I may be an ADD adult but that does not mean I'm a candidate for the Special Olympics and it certainly does not mean I'm a borderline psychopath. This phase of mind frying has left me taxed. I can't read anything on the bus because now I can't concentrate long enough to enjoy anything that isn't work related. I can't read anything work related because I can actually feel the nerve synapses of my brain start to overheat. I can't sleep on the bus because my sense of responsibility keeps telling me that I should be reading more about the material of my current project.

That means within the next two months I'll be making an appointment with a tailor to get a form fitting jacket with eight foot wrap around sleeves and large buckles. That is if I'm lucky. If I'm not lucky it'll be because I've been caught committing the homicide of the idiot who put me in charge of this project to begin with.

I have found some kind of resolution to all of this, though. After of a day of Kentucky fried mind frying, my wife and I have turned to the spiritual showings of TBN, The Trinity Broadcast Network. She and I can watch televangelists like John Van Impe, Bishop Eddie Long, John Hagee, T. D. Jakes, and Jesse Duplantis.

This, in actuality, is damage assessment.

If I go longer than 10 minutes while any of those programs are on and NOT scream, "WHAT A PIECE OF F#$%CKING TRIPE!!!!", my wife knows to call a doctor and get me to the nearest available psychoanalyst. She has yet to take that kind of drastic action although the periods of inactivity are getting longer and longer. Technically, this viewing plan is shock treatment. It is the spiritual equivalent of a cold bucket of ice water thrown on male genitalia.

It's 9:30 on Wednesday. I'm wearing a drool bucket. It's time for Pastor Jack Van Impe with his Christian news report and my nightly scream.

Say, "Night night."