handsoap in an airport bathroom

Timothy Geithner's Eyebrows Speak for America

2009-06-02T12:17:00.000-07:00

Gains are Private, Debt is Public

2009-04-02T11:54:00.001-07:00

As if I needed an economic crisis to fuel my disinterest in, and dislike of, American cars, GM and Ford's new payment protection plan, a la not having to pay for your car if you lose your job, makes me vomity sick. So, the products that the free market have shown to be mechanically inferior and overall unappealing are being subsidized by the taxpayer. I think the initial negotiation for the bailout was arcane enough that, although it was generally distasteful, didn't really resonate with the average taxpayer in a transparent way. Like most people, I just thought, "oh, that is pretty bogus, but I drive a Toyota." Well, this load of political and corporate smoke and mirrors is now shedding its disguise and is having a coming out party in the form of our tax dollars paying for some one's piece of crap Chevy Malibu. No, this is not intended as a personal diatribe against American cars, but as invective against nonsensical policies that engender morally hazardous human behavior. I don't see why American cars can't be great. They were once. Why can't they be again? Why, can these federally subsidized companies offer $500 for up to 9 payments in the case of GM, and $700/month for a year after purchase of a new vehicle in the case of Ford? The American taxpayer is going to be paying for quite a few new cars over the next couple of years, not to mention the mortgages that we will be paying for. (Subsidize is a very nice word I think. Paying is perhaps a bit more enlightening and direct.)

I recently heard a man on NPR who bemoaned the current state of the American auto executives. The man hearkened back to a brighter day when Lee Iacocca was able to charm the American public back into buying good American cars. Well, newsflash, Iacocca's biggest accomplishment was probably when he marched onto an ethically loose Capitol Hill and boozed and schmoozed his way into a multi-billion dollar bailout for his effectively bankrupt company back in 1979. They have been benefiting from the vapors ever since. My point is two-fold: 1) if we want people to buy American cars, let's encourage them to buy them, and not subsidize, I mean pay for, them publically; and 2) in order for people to buy American cars, they have to want to buy American cars. Let's not just "restructure". Let's revamp. Rebuild. Rethink. etc. etc. etc. Gut the companies. Let them go bankrupt. Let people feel responsible. If companies that provide a needed service fold, that service will not be lost in the mess, it will simply be provided by a more innovative or efficient entity. If that is a restructured version of the original firm then that is fine. If it is a new firm, that is fine as well. It's not like we haven't been down this road before. How many times do we hear about JD Rockefeller's stellar timber and railroading companies, or Leland Stanford's trading empire? Things change. I am ok with that. Let's stop using private capital to publically pay off debt.

Losing our shirts.

2009-03-05T17:35:00.000-08:00

Like a social nicotine, the American public (myself included) has flocked to the screens of our news media industry to suck down the latest headline in real time, perhaps in hopes of being the first to know of something good…or really bad. (There is real intellectual and social utility derived from knowledge like that, right?) Why do we do this? In a perverse way, I seem to derive a certain amount of catharsis from this process—perhaps because I believe that I’ll gain closure or resolution by knowing the ‘bad news’ up front. Maybe it is just front-end masochism. Like eating the steamed broccoli first and saving the savory meat for last.

I think at this point we would all breathe a sigh of deep relief if Tim Geithner looked the nation and the Senate Finance Committee, or whoever, straight in the eyes, for once, and said something to the effect of, “Mr. Chairman, right now we are all screwed, and will lose everything before we can gain it back again. Thank you.” At least we would be honest with ourselves.

What's G?

2009-02-24T11:27:00.000-08:00

Today I reference an article featured with some prominence on the homepage of NYTimes.com, "Four Hours Without Gmail." Now, I do not claim to be particularly tech-savvy, nor do I claim to fully comprehend the relative importance of many of the interconnected online systems that the world has learned to rely on for our otherwise overlooked necessities, but Gmail? Come on.

The Article shared the front page on cyberspace with headlines like, "Worry of a North Korea Missile Test," "Fed Chief Offers a Dire Economic Forecast," "Retail Earnings Reflect Slowdown in Consumer Spending," "Controller Tells Tale of Hudson Landing," and "NASA Satellite Fails to Reach Orbit," among others. Maybe I am naive and do not grasp the gravity of an event such as a temporary Gmail meltdown, but I am pretty sure that it is not to par with events that threaten human life and welfare.

Maybe I am wrong. After all, I do spend about half of my workday on Gchat. Maybe it is not about being right or wrong. Maybe I am missing the point. Maybe the point is that Google has branded and marketed themselves in such a way that they earned a spot on the front page of NYTimes.com for doing nothing. They earned that headline through years of market domination, not as a result of some everyday mundanity--as was the case in this story. They are a corporate celebrity completely independent of a personality like Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Jerry Yang, Michael Bloomberg, or Rupert Murdoch. They are just Google. I guess that is pretty G.

2009-02-23T10:53:00.000-08:00

Isn't it funny how affected a person can be by the current economic downturn? I mean, I have never really paid much attention to the financial markets. Although I recognized the power of it all, the financial community always seemed too enigmatic and arcane for a layperson such as myself to take more than a periphery interest in it. Now it seems that this otherwise foreign world has engulfed my thinking and emotions in a strangely tolerable, yet invasive, way. I seem to gauge life subconsciously through the DOW, or the most current augmentation of the stimulus saga. If the DOW is up, my worldview is up. If the DOW is down, then...well, life seems a lot harder. If money is given to the Big Three in some misfangled bull-crap-ridden bail-out designed to do nothing than assuage idiotic shareholders who decided to invest their money in a product that hasn't produced for forty years, then I also get down a little bit. Today the DOW is down, and it looks like our friends in Detroit are getting theirs, but I am not too down. I think that I am getting used to this mess. How has the financial crisis affected your psyche?

50 Years Ago I Was -24

2009-02-04T11:05:00.000-08:00

When people ask me what my musical influences were growing up, I unhesitatingly respond that I grew up on The Beatles and The Beach Boys. This is true. Yet, there was another influence that came before the boys of summer or the fabfour.

There is a fuzzy, sepia-tone memory of going to a Hills Department Store and buying a record with my dad that is at the beginning of this story. It was 1987. Not a particularly stand out year for anything, except Luis Valdez's classic film, "La Bamba." The record my dad bought was the soundtrack to the film, and the rest is history. Aside from the Disco Duck record that I had received for a birthday a couple of years earlier, my understanding of pop-music/rock'n'roll was pretty limited at the time. So, hearing "La Bamba", even if it was Lou Diamond Phillips lip-synching to Los Lobos, was revelatory. In fact, every time I listened to the record I had to perform. I used to get out my mom's old Chris Evert tennis racket and sing along into a microphone made out of constructs. It was pretty hip. I miss those days. Point being, that record and the artists it represented, namely Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, and the Big Bopper played a big part in the development of a part of my life that I really love. It is for that reason that I was a bit surprised and saddened when I neither heard nor saw anything on the 50th anniversary of their deaths, except a small blurb on a KQED morning show, that celebrated the contributions that those early pioneers made to rock'n'roll. Did Don McClain ruin it for everybody? Anyway, my hat is off to those three who had such a profound impact on the face of rock'n'roll as it has been played since 1959.

There are a lot of things about me that you don't know.

2009-01-28T23:54:00.000-08:00

I used to hate Rock Band. I thought it was perverse. That was, until I played it. Now, I can't get enough.

I used to think American Idol was ridiculous. I guess I still do, but that doesn't stop me from watching it and enjoying it.

I used to hate herbal tea. No flavor. What's the point? Just add milk and sugar dummy. Now I love it.

There are lots of things you don't know about me.

Less Talk More Soft Rock

2009-01-28T23:23:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while, as impulse permits, I get the urge to find some good 'pop-music' on the radio while I am driving to work. This phenomenon is perhaps akin to buying chocolate-covered pistachios at Trader Joes--a delicious treat to be sure, but I am not a treat kind of guy.I like leftovers and chips. Anyway, every time I indulge this desire I end up surfing until I find a nice soft-rock station. Here in San Francisco that station happens to be KOIT. I don't know how it happens, and I don't know if I should be ashamed. It's as if there is some thirst in my subconscious that can only be quenched with soft rock. Without thinking I instinctively remove my hand from the search button and gently place it back on the wheel as soon as the soothing tones of one of the 1970's greatest augmentations to rock'n'roll makes its way from the speakers to my eardrums. It is a catharsis. It is mom singing you to sleep. It is a guilty pleasure that you feel no guilt about. Yesterday, it was Chicago with, "You're the Inspiration." At other times it has been George Michael, Michael McDonald, and Sarah McGlaughlin. I am not ashamed. Bring it on KOIT. Less talk, more soft rock please.

2009-01-21T19:46:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one who will not be disappointed if Barack Obama ends up being the conciliatory, level-headed, intelligent, kind, objective thinker that I voted for? Already, I have heard pundits and apparent intellectuals bemoan what they see as a potentially crippling shortcoming in Obama's obsessive commitment to reaching across the aisle, making friends, and surrounding himself with people who seem to be committed to thinking without the moral shackles of dogmatic ideologies.

President Obama is the first Black President. Does that mean he has to be a black president? He had the most "liberal" voting record in the Senate (a relatively non-descriptive adjective indicating not too much more than voting on the other side of Bush policies). Does that mean he has to be the most liberal president? Will he fail the American people if he tries to do what is best for all American people? I thought we were the post-partisan, post-racial, post-civil rights generation. Shouldn't we let our president represent that? Isn't that the Hope, and the Change, that we rallied around?

Ah Blagojevich!

2009-01-09T14:15:00.000-08:00

In response to the Illinois' House of Representatives 114 to 1 vote in favor of an unprecedented impeachment, Governor Rod R. Blagojevich held a press conference voicing his complaints over what can only be referred to as a playground-like estrangement from the legislative body that apparently prevented his implementation of several social projects that could have otherwise benefited Illinois like, withholding funds for childrens' hospitals in lieu of campaign contributions, or preventing personal capital gains for pay-to-play endeavors. Ok, ok, we all know that this guy is as corrupt and silly as they come these days, but what I really want to know, and what the NY Times failed to explain, are the identities of the individuals pictured behind the governor in this photograph. Are they his slaves? It appears that there is a small child lying face down on the floor. Is this intentional? Did he kill this child for not paying his way onto the dais? None of these people look particularly interested in what is going on, nor do they look very happy. Do they even know why they are there, or did some Blagojevich aide coerce them from the street? This is really too comical. At first, I thought that this story was going to be an incredible screenplay that could possibly make a sweep at some future Academy Awards night, but comedies never win Oscars.

What does this mean?

2009-01-07T11:23:00.000-08:00

According to my best intuition, the photo shoot banter went like this:

George H.W. Bush: "I know Barack, you are a lot smarter than Junior."

Barack Obama: "Yeah, and I'm a lot cooler."

George W. Bush: "Homerun! heh, heh."

Bill Clinton: "This furniture would probably look good in my office."

Jimmy Carter: "I need to keep my distance, because if I catch cold the doctor said I would disintegrate."

...or something like that.

What's your ideal job?

2009-01-06T16:14:00.000-08:00

My ideal job would be talking--just talk about whatever. An appendage and subsidiary job to the ideal would be that of a notetaker, occasionally writing something someone else would want to read. I would report to work everyday and be given a topic and start talking about it. The destination of the discussion would be secondary to simply letting the discourse flow. It would resolve itself, rather than passively being resolved in the interest of time. When something profound is stated it would be written down. When something trivial is stated it would be left alone and the discussion would progress seamlessly over it. Today I would talk about how productive I have been at work g-chatting and then writing this useless paragraph.

2009-01-06T11:16:00.001-08:00

I have a new New Year's resolution. It begins with the letter, "this picture is awesome."

2009-01-05T22:12:00.001-08:00

So here is a shocker. I am a huge college football fan. Further, I am a huge Penn State Football fan. Consequently, I had a hard time on New Year's Day during the Rose Bowl. USC, although arguably the best college football team in the nation, represents a portion of what I detest about the athletic industrial complex. The press loves USC. The fans love USC. Disneyland loves USC. Who doesn't love USC?

Pete Carroll, who rakes in $2-3 million dollars a year, always coaching with his boyish beach bro smile--ugh, it makes me barfy--is never camera-shy. What is it about LA that turns people into celebrities? Pete Carroll is a football coach, right? Could've had me fooled. Every time I see a postgame wrap-up with the cast and crew of the USC Trojans I almost expect to see Ryan Seacrest and the team from the E! Network.

Last time I checked Joe Paterno, the winningest coach in college football history, makes $1/2 million a year despite his 50 year reign at Penn State, and gives most of it away to charity. Furthermore, his modest ranch home that I used to ride my bike past sits in a neighborhood of engineering professors, primary school teachers, contractors, and yes, Joe the plumbers. That is a far cry from Pete Carroll's $2 million palatial estate in Rancho Palos Verdes among the sycophantic celebs of the LA coastline.

What is up with the Hollywood complex that seems to have all network commentators duped?If it was up to Kirk Herbstreit and Lee Corso, the starting lineup of the USC Trojans would have Nobel Prizes, get gold stars, and probably would have beat out Barack Obama for the presidency. So what if pretty much every player at USC, including the waterboys, will be drafted into the NFL. So what if all of their receivers are 6' 5" and run 4.3 forties. I could do that. Besides, who wants to make millions of dollars to get injured anyway. No thanks. Penn State football players have it made. Go low in the draft, sit the bench for a few years, and then do something else. I am a bit cynical I suppose. I just get sensitive about my redneck, blue-collar roots sometimes. So what if California has sunshine and Pennsylvania doesn't, and who cares if USC beat Penn State. We could probably beat them in a sauerkraut eating contest.

2009-01-03T11:46:00.000-08:00

My right ear is bigger than my left ear. How do I get over this misery? I drown it out with running and scope.

2009-01-03T11:06:00.001-08:00

This is the first post that I have made in months, years even...one year even. What do I have to show for it? A lot has happened since I last submitted a healthy piece of prose to this cyber-publisher. USA Volleyball came out on top in Beijing. Penn State Volleyball downed Pepperdine in the Mens Volleyball National Championship. Obama Baracked the vote. Steve Chu was appointed as the new Secretary of Energy. Chad Hokama rediscovered his adolescence. Penn State finished 11-2 falling to the supermen of USC in the Rose Bowl. My sister Emma got her driver's license. I moved to San Francisco...by myself, and stuff.

Let's focus on something I can really get excited about. Steve Chu. Joining the ranks of an already impressive team of scholars, this Nobel laureate, adds a voice that really makes me shiver.This cabinet, of at least intellectually rivaled individuals (not idealogues), has something to show for the specialized positions that they are filling. For the first time in history foreign policy, security policy, environmental policy, energy policy, etc. will find intersections that have not been crossed for a long while in the halls of congress and the White House.

That's about it.

2007-12-17T17:50:00.000-08:00

Dear Sirs:

I am a young professional of exceptional talent and ability. I am writing in regards to the position of successful success as advertised on your job board with the recommendation of whomever is qualified enough to influence your selection process.

Most recently I have sat in an office and in a parking lot not paying attention to much more than the time on my cell phone. I encouraged co-workers in their personal pursuits for happiness and tried my best to avoid discussing the details of the workplace. Sometimes I brought my lunch. Usually leftovers. Sometimes I would splurge and buy a beef bowl from Yoshinoya. I spent nearly half of my earnings on gas.

During the summer of 2007 I took advantage of public transportation and friends' couches. The heat was sweltering. I pursued dead-end idealism, and applauded the achievements of rhetorical friends. I argued alot, and cried sometimes.

As an assistant to assistants' assistants I was used. But, I liked it. I got to think about a whole lot of interesting stuff and fix copy machines. Lunch was always on someone else's bill and the walks to and from work were always on my feet. The wind was fierce.

I am a capable and knowledgeable person. I work well as an individual or as part of a team unless there are too many people of differing opinions or who make me feel inferior. I know a lot about how to do things and would love to learn the system that you did. I look forward to speaking with you in person.

Timothy Koide

College graduate

2007-07-09T09:56:00.000-07:00

Brain splitting post-music.

2007-07-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

I was reading an essay by Haruki Murakami last week. The man loves jazz. He never intended on becoming a writer. He fell backwards into writing, just like he fell backwards into jazz. Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers in Japan. A birthday present gave him access. A jazz concert spawned a writing career. That makes sense to me. In my opinion, true expression, and true art should be transcendent. No matter the media, art should create a sphere where all other media can find a mutual bond, thus transcending the bounds that humans have set to define it categorically. When I see a painting that moves me, it moves me because all at once I can hear the music that it provokes, and see the words that it creates. Music should easily transfer into words, and painting should transfer into music, etc. But I digress.

I would like to think that jazz is transcendent. I don't think that it has a very rigid definition. Then again, try to label something that isn't jazz around someone who knows what is, and there could be a problem. Maybe defining it verbally is impossible, but on some esoteric and sensory level it isn't. Falling backwards into something, yet without forfeiting volition, is jazz. Those are the moments that really cut and make you smile. Epiphanies, when a premeditated thought materializes into a burst of brilliant spontaneity, can make even the most structured people melt.

For some reason I have never been a risk-taker. It is in my DNA. However, at the same time, there is something very attractive about living a life of jazz. Maybe I only want to rationalize my own indecision, but I really like the idea of falling backwards into something. I never had any intention to become a musician. I get sweaty just thinking about it. I can't justify it; and I see no clear path towards doing it the way that I want to, but I still want to try.

My work is stiff.

2007-06-07T09:02:00.000-07:00

I am a working stiff. Literally. I work at a desk, in front of a computer, sitting in a chair, and my body and my brain go stiff. Occasionally, there will be a brief respite from the doldrums of drudgery when I get thirsty and go to the water cooler and quench a thirst that I only think exists in order to give me an excuse to get out of my chair, off of my desk, and away from my computer.
I can try to convince you that I believe in what I am doing--because I do--but, that seems too cliche right now. Is that cynical, or just honest? Maybe it is not me that is stiff, but my work. I need to loosen it up a bit. How do I do that?

2007-02-15T13:46:00.000-08:00

2007-02-14T20:17:00.000-08:00

For the sake of being too nostalgic, and so I don't embarrass myself or others for the lack of substantive things to say, I will only say that without summer memories I would want to sleep through the fall and the winter and the spring.

2007-02-14T20:13:00.000-08:00

Is it Valentine's Day yet?

thinktank tim

2007-02-14T13:20:00.000-08:00

Washington D.C. is a fascinating place. I have met more job titles, affiliations, and organizations than I have humans. If you were to meet me right now I would extend a business card and say, "Hi, my name is program assistant at the Mansfield Foundation, what use are you to me or to my organization." I haven't sensed yet that people care about learning more than what self-interest dictates they should.

A Generation of Access

2006-11-28T16:19:00.000-08:00

It was a cold night—the kind that can be expected in Utah in the middle of January. Snow was piled up on the sides of the roads, but there were people everywhere. It was the Sundance Film Festival after all. Filmmakers, actors, and other celebrities, as well as film-enthusiasts were out in full force despite the frigid alpine climate. That night was a special one for me. Under the stars of Park City, there would be two experiences that solidified a lifetime of conditioning, and revealed who I and a segment of my generation had become.
The first experience was well-thought out and required the assemblage of a large group of people. Hours were spent in preparation. It was the year of a controversial new movie, and we wanted to let our friends in the film community know how we felt about it. The plan? Lots of myspacing, and text messaging in order to mobilize the hands and mouths that would reveal the truth behind the film…oh, and about 500 tennis balls.
Main Street in Park City was packed. About 100 of us began combing it up and down passing out fliers as we went. The fliers connected the new movie’s plot to the life story of a famous tennis player. Our intent was not to belittle or humiliate this tennis player; I, in fact, happened to be a fan. Yet our access to the event, the controversy of the film, and the ridiculous parallels found in the life of the star, were too much to just stay at home and watch a movie. After intriguing the crowd with our literature, we gathered and, posed as the director’s nephew, I began spewing a nonsensical speech about the truth behind the film. Did people believe us? Absolutely. However, that wasn’t the point. At the end of my speech we charged across Main Street and released the tennis balls. It was beautiful. That wasn’t the point either.
I’m not sure that my generation created the controversy or whether or not we even cared, but we definitely took notice of it, and despite a lack of real interest we still found enough motivation to take issue with it. I really don’t think that there is any generation more comfortable with confronting controversy than mine. Civil disobedience is so institutionalized that it has almost become trivial. How many generations can claim that free-speech demonstrations, and anarchists marching on the state capitol, were either applauded or disbanded without incident, and that they took part in both without any real motivation? Further, I really don’t think that there is any generation that takes issue with more things than mine.
As a result, we have to find release. We just can’t take life too seriously all the time. You see we’re kind of schizophrenic. At the same time that we have created a standard of social elitism through taking stands and raising awareness on pretty much anything, we are also very conscious of our overall well-being and quite simple-minded. We need to laugh. When the news media exposes us too aggressively to the world in which live, we turn to John Stewart and Steve Colbert.
Thus, when I say that we took issue with this movie, I don’t think convention will be able to define our position. The sides drawn over the controversy, and even the controversy itself became subordinate to the humor and release found in celebrating our access to it, which brings me to my second experience.
This experience was not deliberate at all, and perhaps is more indicative of the deeply engrained principles that were illustrated in the previous anecdote. Walking and mingling with the crowds during the Sundance Film Festival gives the average person access to the ideas and personalities of a very diverse array of minds. I really enjoy that type of free-access to interpersonal interactions, and that night I happened to run into a guy that personified the generational essence I am trying to articulate. He was a documentarian and his film was about moustaches. His purpose was as lacking as the hair on my face. Perhaps that was the point.
The irony behind the film was as stratified and complicated as the irony behind the moustache. Like many things that have become chic recently, the moustache was not cool at first. It was mocked and laughed at. That was until some cool people who grew them as a joke persisted in wearing their jokes until the lines between serious/funny/ironic/sarcastic were so blurred that acceptance had to be decided by popularity, and popularity was wearing the moustache. Well, we still laugh about them at the same time we grow them. That was about the gist of the film. We didn’t take each other seriously at all, but we both took very seriously our prerogative in being able to make such a ridiculous documentary. Sure, the film didn’t serve any didactic purpose really, but that wasn’t the point.
The point is this: life is much too serious to go through it without laughing. Mine is a generation of access. This access has submersed our worlds into a sea of ever-changing issues and conflict that at once can be stimulating and motivating, as well as overwhelming and depressing. I learned on that cold night in January that without proper release of the pressures associated with the rigors of our world we might just miss the point. If we can unite more over the punch lines, even if we have to go to great lengths in making them, maybe we will be able to be more united over the things that really do matter.

Anticipation and Anxiety

2006-09-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

Time is an interesting matrix that provides a playing field for progression and regression. At certain points digression occurs, which seems to expand or contract time , leaving everything a little more diversified, a little more defined, but despite digression (whether positive or negative) life still seems to function in a bipolar world of experience that leads eventually to either progression or regression.
I would like to think that I am engaged in either one or the other--progression or regression--but my better judgment tells me that I am sometimes simply suspended in the viscous dimension of waiting. Waiting seems to transcend time yet is completely dependent on it; i.e., the gap between two points of time becomes inconsequential to reaching the end point, but nonetheless waiting is the gap between two points of time. Perhaps my biggest problem is not using this suspended time to make decisions regarding the path of progression that I would like to take.
Life can be a very competitive place, and often coerces individuals to forsake a pursuit of passion for a pursuit of security and prominence. I am not so bold as to claim one is better than the other, simply, I wish to say that one may be more rewarding than the other dependent upon motivations. Take for instance two people who pursue careers in a similar business field. For the sake of illustration we will say that that field is the sale of medical supplies to various types of practices around the country. The one individual enters the field with great excitement over the pending prospect that successful sales will bring him large revenues. The other enters the field with hopeful optimism that he will be able to provide a necessary medical supplies that will benefit eventual clients. The first man comes home at night and prides over his profit and his elevation in the company based on his performance. The other enjoys the intangible idea that many are being helped through his comapny and his work. The first painstakingly strives to find more opportunities to gain greater market share and elevate himself in the company. The more sales, despite actual needs of the offices, the better because he works on commission and is mainly concerned with revenue. The latter continually works at penetrating more areas of his region in order to provide better services to help more people. He recommends only the best equipment to suit the needs of the offices he services because he is mainly concerned with the permanence of the practices providing adequate care to their patients.
The example is a little tongue-in-cheek, but the point is clear--perhaps, motive matters more than career. I think that this is the main reason why I perpetuate my restless state of teetering between possibilities for the future. I have not yet allied my motives with my career choice. Until then, I suppose that I will continue to wait. Thus, time will continue to pass, and others around me will continue to progress or regress, and I will keep wondering what it is that I want to do.