Author: Josh

Today is my last day at the company that I’ve been with for seven months. Earlier this month I was presented with the fantastic opportunity to run a small web-based software company. Elise, who is really excited about this opportunity for me, and upon my decision to accept the job offer asked, “So, what is this, something like your 10th job since Maly was born?”

She said this in a jovial manner, and I, of course, said, “No. This is only like my…” And then I saw her eyebrows rise as she watched it come to realization in my mind.

I’ve had 10 jobs in five and a half years.

1) The Drug Dealer

When Maly was born, I was running a small pharmaceutical-grade nutritional and wellness product wholesale company. This was a great job. My boss was great. He taught me how to run a business that maintained inventory. I managed a team who ran our fulfillment center, I learned strategies to cut costs, increased our margins, built a team who liked their jobs, kept our clients happy, grew revenue, and sold to pharmacists and physicians without having to get a boob job. I lost this job (and so did my entire team) when the company was sold to large pharmaceutical company.

The Dark Period

Then I entered a very, very dark period. Maly was but a few months old. I was happy to be a new dad, but having an infant added to the household made for some new stress. My dad died about a week after I’d lost my job. I was close to my dad and loved him very, very much. We had a new baby, my dad died and I was the unemployed breadwinner of our house. That’s why I call it the dark period. I was very isolated, confused and drunk.

2) The Organic Trail

A month later I was recruited by a little dot-com start-up in Austin. The owner was interested in me because of my accounting experience (I owned the P&L at my previous job). This job turned out to be three young adults working in the owner’s and her husband’s garage-turned-office (formally known as the husband’s mom’s apartment before she passed). One was hired for sales and advertising. The other for marketing. I was hired to manage ecommerce, financials and operations. What we all ended up doing was manually populating the website’s database with product photos and descriptions for $10/hour while our boss spent her days at Whole Foods and getting colonics. The economy and job market weren’t that bad at this point, so the three of us had options. I came into work on a Friday after having been employed for only 2 weeks. I politely and professionally told my boss that I just didn’t think the job was a fit for me and that I was going to pursue other endeavors. She was amenable to that and gave me a hug and an all-natural fiber cookie on my way out of the garage.

3) The Email Law

On my home from quitting the job above, I called my best friend in the whole world. I told him I’d just quit a job and that we should go get lunch and have a few beers. He asked if I might be interested in coming to work at the software company he was running. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I went to his office. It didn’t take long and I wound up working at this little software company. And we had lots of fun for a couple years, growing the client roster and revenue. Invariable the management structure at our company and at the parent company changed, and the overall company culture changed, and things just started getting ugly all around. It wasn’t a fun place to work anymore. We were losing clients and people weren’t happy anymore. I looked for another job and quickly found one.

4) The Spammer

I left my previous job to run the email program for a business-to-business lead generation company (a spammer). I was oversold (financially) on the job. It was a terrible job, but the coffee was really good. This company was listed on a world-renowned email blacklist, which completely shut down the facet of the business of which I was supposed to be in charge. After I started, the company was miraculously removed from this blacklist. And then 3 days after I started, they were blacklisted again (by nothing of my doing). It was a terribly toxic environment. Since the email operation was at a standstill, half of my team had to be terminated.

The Gray Period

Then I entered a brief gray period. A tree fell on my mom’s head (I can’t make this stuff up). So I rushed to her house during the middle of a Sunday night after she’d gotten stitched up and received a clean bill of health at the emergency room. Elise and Maly drove in the following morning so they could stay with my mom and so I could get back to my job. After making the long drive back to Austin, I was informed that my services weren’t needed any longer. I was effectively fired. That was a relief and a blessing. My boss was a tyrant and I was honestly fearful of my own and my staff’s emotional and physical well-being. I drove over to Starbucks after learning that I’d been terminated. Usually patronizing a Starbucks isn’t a memorable occasion. This time it was.

The Beige Period

Then I entered somewhat of a beige period. I had a lot of clarity, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do next. I couldn’t put my finger on what I wanted to do when I grew up. The creative juices were flowing. I did some soul searching. I read quite a few books. I enjoyed the downtime. I even wrote a hip-hop album that wound up being huge in Denmark.

5) My Own Business

I remember lying on the couch reading Jason Fried’s Rework, and that’s when I decided to try my hand at starting my own company. I worked 10-17 hour days for an entire month and started a little software business. I invested my own money (which was hard to do seeing how we were now living off savings and state unemployment compensation) and worked my ass off. And I had a total blast doing it. I was happy. I was motivated. I smiled and laughed a lot and sent screenshots of my software as it worked to my father-in-law and he said things like, “Wow! That’s fantastic!” and I’d pump my fist!

I started a software company in exactly 30 days. Three months later, I received my first sale. That, to me, told me I’d done it. I’d built something that was of value to someone else. That was, and still is, a great feeling. I’d never known a feeling like that (that I can recall) up until that point.

On October 17, 2011, my little software company turned a profit. It took me one month to build and less than a year in sales to be able to say that I started, own and operate a successful and profitable software company.

My “job” at the time was building Scrubbly, but I didn’t have an income. It was time to get real, be a man and support my family financially. I decided I wanted to try my hand at full-time, commission-based sales.

6) The Coupon Peddler

I don’t exactly recall how I came across the opportunity, but I was quickly and eagerly hired on as an outside sales representative for an Austin-based deal-of-the-day website (a Groupon competitor). It was a hot industry and I was ready to rock and roll and make gobs of cash. Come to find out, deal-of-the-day group buying coupon sites are a dime a dozen in an already overly-saturated market. Before even making my first sales call, my colleague told me she was on her way out the door the moment the next opportunity presented itself. She was already tapped out in her short-lived online coupon-peddling career. That wasn’t very inspiring or motivating. But I thought, “with one less sales person, that means twice as much business for me!” And then I learned that the competition required exclusivity in their contracts. I couldn’t work with a client who was already working with Groupon or Living Social. And Groupon and Living Social had already swept the nation. The only local client I could go after was Bubba’s Fresh Dead Bait and Discount Tanning Salon, and I just didn’t want to do that.

7) The Host

I don’t recall how I came across this next job either, but I was quickly hired on with a local web hosting company. My boss and I hit it off immediately. We met for barbecue at Rudy’s one afternoon and chatted for hours. He was like the father figure kind of boss and I liked him a lot. He was really leaning on me to drum up some new business. I think he was really leaning on me because he was having a really hard time drumming up new business himself. Neither of us had much luck generating an even lukewarm lead. I could sense that my boss was on his way out, and being a commission-only sales guy meant that I had absolutely no cash coming in until I sold something. And even then, it would take many months before I could build up enough residuals to cover my family’s expenses. I had the come to Jesus conversation with myself and realized that I need to get a real job with a steady salary and health insurance.

8) The Association

My father-in-law, who lives in Des Moines, IA (which is a French word for the Moines) has always touted a vendor that he’d used for a couple years. This software company provides database-driven websites and member management for non-profits and associations. They’re a really great, stable, profitable, service-oriented company and it seemed like a good place to plant myself. I looked them up and, sure enough, they were hiring. I submitted my application, was told that I was overqualified for the job I was applying for. I told them, “I don’t care, I want to work here,” and a week later I was sitting in a cubicle. And they even brought in kolaches on my first day. The people I worked with were great. Even the people I didn’t work with directly were great. The handful of clients I interacted with were great. The CEO knew everyone by their first name and he liked me. Everyone was just great. But I was bored out of my ever-loving mind at this job. I was hired to populate databases (again). I don’t know how I’ve managed to get myself into two database-populating jobs in less than five years. I’m not even a database kind of guy.

After around a month, I decided I was going to put some kind of plan into action. I really liked the company and the products & services that they provided, I just didn’t enjoy my particular job. So I started poking around internally to see if there might be another part of the company in which I could work. I’d also started putting my resume back out there and I let people know that I was casually looking for work. I began a correspondence with one of the Vice Presidents at the company and we were finalizing our plans to get together and put me on a path that would enable me to not only have fun at my job, but to also make a direct contribution to the growth of the company.

And that coincided with another conversation I began having with the CEO of the company that I’m leaving today.

9) The Agency

Over the years, both professionally and by my own personal doing, I’d gained valuable experience and knowledge in online marketing. That boded really well for me with this small agency that specializes in affiliate marketing. During our first phone conversation my boss asked, “did you read the job description?” to which I said, “of course! It’s right up my alley.” He then said, “You know you’re way overqualified.” And I told him that I didn’t care. I wanted to work there. It was a small company and I envisioned lots of room for me to grow. So he hired me just as he was moving to Austin to open up a new office. It was great timing. The company had previously been a virtual one with ~25 employees scattered about the U.S. I was going to be employee #1 at the company’s new home in the heart of Texas. I helped open the new office and hire the next 5 employees.

The job was great. The people were awesome. I really valued the work/life balance that I was afforded. All-in-all, I was happy, but I didn’t feel like I was doing much for my own personal and professional growth.

Then one morning I got a phone call from a friend. He said, “I have a buddy who needs someone to run his software company. I recommended you. You should be expecting a phone call from him.”

10) The New Job

I start that new job on Monday. On Halloween. It’s the job that I’m the most excited to take on since receiving my very first job after graduating from college over a decade ago.

Ten jobs in five and a half short years. I’d always thought that I’d grow up to be like my dad; that I’d graduate from college and work for the same company for 30-some-odd years.

My, how times have changed… and how I don’t really know any different.

A little software company I started over a year ago turned a profit this afternoon. I can now say that I started, own and operate a successful and profitable software company. It was never my plan to get rich from this project, but my heart is rich with a sense of accomplishment right now, and I’ll gladly take that to the bank.

Click here to see the new website announcing the pregnancy and to watch the video where we tell Maly she’s going to be a big sister. Needless to say, it’s been a crazy, exciting and exhilarating past few weeks. I’ll update soon with posts about “feelings” and “emotions” and “fart jokes.”

I don’t know when I did it, but many months ago I urged our daughter to get into the habit of making her bed first thing in the morning. I didn’t think the idea would stick, nor did I expect the bed making to become a habit, but it did. And what I thought would be a healthy, tidy habit, has turned into a textbook case of obsessive compulsive disorder. There is a process to the making of the bed, and there is an equally intensive process to the turning down of the bed.

She has a select entourage of approximately 87 stuffed animals, each of which having their exact place on top of the bed while the bed is made, and when the bed is to be slept in. She has four pillows that also have their exact spot. When it’s time to go to bed, the decorative pillow is placed vertically at the right top of the mattress, slightly bent so half of the pillow is on the bed, the other half is propped up against the headboard. The pillow on which she lays her head is placed horizontally at the top left of the mattress. The cross-stitched pillow is placed against the wall, with the hearts facing toward the bed. Going down toward the foot of the bed, the bean bag pillows are also placed against the wall – pink pillow first (southern positioning), then the green one. And at the foot of the bed, and still against the wall is a tightly-rolled pink blanket. The crocheted blanket is carefully and geometrically folded down, as is the sheet. She has a purse-like duffle bag in which a segment of her stuffed animal entourage is carefully occupied. This bag is then placed in the center of the mattress, a foot away from the footboard. Riley (the real cat) sleeps at Maly’s feet, just before the bag of stuffed animals. Maly shares her pillow with a My Little Pony named Sweetie Belle, who also has her own little purple pillow and blanket.

My documented recollection doesn’t do this process anything near justice. What’s become a topic of debate and instilled a house-wide sense of urgency has been the making of the bed in the mornings, especially since school has started. It usually takes Maly 10 minutes to make her bed. Ten minutes is a lot of precious time in our house in the morning. The solution here would obviously be for everyone to wake up 10 minutes earlier. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Usually I’m the calm one with time on my side, however, this morning, I somehow subconsciously joined in verbalizing the sense of urgency in getting ready for school. Maly became distraught because she really needed help with making her bed. Elise graciously helped her this morning, and I think somewhere in this process, Elise had a talk with Maly about the time that bed maintenance has been taking.

Tonight Maly decided to rectify this problem. She insisted on sleeping on top of her bed. I just checked on her and she’s all curled up on the bottom half of her bed with her entourage and pillows at her head, and the cat snuggled up in his normal spot. It’s a tight squeeze, all in the name of a made bed.

A year ago our little neighbor friend came over to the house to visit Maly. I immediately noticed a little brace on both of the girl’s wrists.

“Carter, did you hurt your hands?”

“No. They’re guards to get me to stop sucking my thumbs.”

“Oh, wow! Those are cool. Let me look at those.”

I inspected the little guards that went around her wrists and the surgical plastic that encased her thumbs. The guards are a very well thought out design and product. I made a mental note and filed it away for later retrieval.

Fast forward a year to present day. Maly has started Kindergarten and it’s about time we start working on getting her to stop sucking her fingers. Ever since she was an infant, she has sucked her middle two fingers. Over the past year, she’s scaled back to only sucking her fingers when she’s tired or stressed, and Elise and I have both been okay with that. Maly’s even admitted to us that she doesn’t suck her fingers during school, but she’s expressed an interest in quitting.

Elise and I have never pressured her to stop sucking her fingers – we’ve just asked or talked to her about it. Elise and I were both thumb suckers when we were young, so having a child that sucks on her fingers wasn’t a surprise, and we’ve recognized it as a self-nurturing and soothing ritual.

On the past two occasions that I’ve talked to Maly about the finger sucking, she’s expressed an interest in quitting, and she said she wanted the same guards that Carter used. To me, that’s a win-win. The child is willing to quit sucking her fingers, and there’s a no-brainer retail solution.

But I’m cheap, and I have a tendency to try to do things on my own. This past weekend I decided to look into those finger sucking guards. I was kind of shocked that they cost $70. I guess if you compare $70 to the cost of orthodontics to re-allign crooked teeth from years of finger sucking, the $70 pales in comparison. But $70 just seems like a lot of money for something that could be turned into a Do It Yourself solution; and a redneck one at that!

Here’s the Finger Guard kit I could buy on Amazon for $70 to help my child stop sucking her fingers:

And… here’s the Vista Mega Tuff Glove archer’s glove I could buy from Cabela’s for $7.88:

I figure I can modify my redneck finger guard with a week’s worth of 5¢ zip ties and save myself $60. And I might just use that money I’ll save and buy a nice bug zapper for the house and a two pack of sausage casings.

This conversation took place ~10 minutes ago, as close to verbatim as I can recollect:

“Daddy, how does a baby go from being in a mommy’s belly to being born?”

“Well, you see, Sug… there are tiny eggs that live in a mommy’s ovaries. Then they take a ride through what’s called a fallopian tube where they land and rest in the uterus. And this is where the egg gets fertilized and then turns into an embryo, which is an itty itty, bitty baby. The baby lives in this little protecting bubble called and embryonic sack for nine whole months. That’s almost a whole year!”

“Wow!”

“Yeah! And while the baby’s in the mommy’s belly, it gets its food from the umbilical cord, which is a tube that goes from a special sack in the mommy’s belly straight into the baby’s belly. That’s why everyone has a belly button — because that’s how we were all once fed while we lived in our mommy’s belly.”

“Hey, Daddy?”

“Yeah, Sug?”

“But how does the baby actually get into the mommy’s belly?”

“Well, you see. Ahem. That’s something that the mommy and daddy do. You see, with me, I took a 15″ sheet pan and greased it with a lot of butter, then set it aside. Then I took 4 cups of flour, 2 eggs, a teaspoon of vanilla extract, a tablespoon of baking soda, a cup of milk and a package of active dry yeast and mixed on high until I had a good dough. Then I proofed the dough in the oven at around 150-degrees for about a half hour. Then I took the dough out and pushed it down onto the kitchen bar that I’d spread flour onto. Then I took the rolling pin — you know, the rolling pin you used the other day to make your little cake? — and rolled the dough out to, oh, I don’t know, maybe a half inch or so. Then I folded it over once length-wise, then over again. Then I folded it from the top, and then again from the bottom. And then I put the dough in a padded envelope, walked it up to the mailbox and sent it to God…”

“…”

“Yeah, and then a few days later, God sent an email to your Mom to let her know that she was pregnant with you!”

“…”

“Alright, Sug. Love you! G’night!”

“…”

First day of school today:

First day of school last year:

First day of school 2 years ago:

First day of school 3 years ago:

Maly starts Kindergarten tomorrow. Our little baby will be attending her first day of real, public school. Elise and I have known this for months, years even, and yet, I don’t think either one of us is really prepared. I think we’re both feigning its acceptance and together we’re strong, but apart, we could just as easily be the ones starting school for the very first time tomorrow.

Maly knows she starts school tomorrow, but it won’t affect her until 7:30 tomorrow morning when we’re having to pry her clutching fingers from one of our forearms as tears pour from her face.

I think tomorrow beholds the most painful event that Elise and I will have to endure as parents to date. I say this because I’m pretty sure this past Friday was an indication as to how this whole starting Kindergarten thing is going to play out. We had our “Meet the Teacher” event at the elementary school on Friday afternoon and it was ten times more brutal than Elise and I had anticipated. The first 30 minutes were spent with the principal addressing the incoming students and parents, and the last hour were to be spent touring the classroom and meeting our daughter’s Kindergarten teacher. Maly was holding up really well until yours truly took the 15 pencils that she had carefully sharpened and poured them onto the collective pile of shared pencils on the table in her classroom. And that’s when she lost it. She needed the excuse to release her fears and anxieties through tears, and I’d given her just that. Thankfully we had the opportunity to make formal introductions with her new teacher just as we arrived at the room, but once those pencils dropped, so did the tears.

She cried non-stop for a good 30 minutes. There was nothing we could do to console her. She told us that she was upset because she wanted to keep her pencils all to herself, but we think she was just overly nervous and scared. Elise couldn’t get our daughter to articulate her fears or anxiety, so we were that family with the bawling daughter. Our teacher did a great job of temporarily calming Maly down for a few minutes, but even still, she didn’t want to interact with this new stranger. Even the principal came in and took the time to kneel down and talk to Maly. It was valiant and very much appreciate, but, she too was a stranger, and Maly was still stressed and nervous. The tears started flowing again and our only recourse was to just leave. We had our opportunity to meet the teacher, principal, see the classroom and get all of the paperwork we needed for our new Kindergartener; so, albeit is was stressful as all get out, it was a fruitful and necessary Meet the Teacher event.

The stress of this past Friday afternoon took it’s toll and set the tone for the rest of the weekend for us. In fact, Elise and I almost divorced over a dispute about children’s chewable vitamins on Saturday morning. Ordinarily a conversation about children’s chewable vitamins in our house would go something like this:

“Hey, I bought some new chewable vitamins for the kid.”

“That’s cool. Hey, come here and check out this picture of penguin wearing a hat!”

We’re all a little on edge and a little out of sorts. We’re all nervous. Elise and I want to make sure our daughter’s feelings and fears are heard (or not heard) and validated, and we want to make sure that she knows that everything is going to be okay.

Elise has always been great in new places, new things and with new people. I’m not in that I prefer order and familiarity. Maly definitely takes after me in this regard. But we both know that once she gets used to her new environment and schedule, she’ll do just fine – it’ll just take her a little bit longer to adjust.

I’m excited for her. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll have fun at school. I’m also sad because our little baby is going to real school now. It still seems like only yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital.

This evening Maly rode her scooter and I my longboard to the mailbox where we were both pleasantly surprised to find a card from my sister. The card was well wishes for Maly’s first day of Kindergarten, and included a gift card from Target.

When we got back home five minutes later, we had this conversation:

“I can’t wait until tomorrow. I want to go to Target and buy something!”

“Now, Sugar, why don’t we wait until there’s something that you really want or need, and then we can go to Target.”

Without hesitate, her eyes grew as big as saucers and she said:

“Ooh, Daddy! I know! We could take the money to your Rotary Club. We could use it buy a toy to give to the kids who don’t get to get any toys at Christmas!”

I’ve had some proud moments in my 5+ years of being a father, and this is one of those that ranks mighty high on that list!

The last thing we discussed before she closed her eyes to go to bed tonight:

“Daddy, how does the remote control for the TV work?”

“Well… the remote has batteries in it, and when you press a button, it sends a signal through a tiny little light bulb at the front end of the remote control.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve seen that little light bulb thingy!”

“Yeah – so there’s a little sensor on the TV that receives the infra red signal from the remote control, and that signal tells the TV to change channels, turn on or off, or turn the volume up or down.”

“So it’s kind of just like sending an email, right? It just sends it!?”

“You’re five. How do you know this stuff?!”

“…”

“…”

Last month I was inducted into the Rotary Club. I’ve started going to bed much earlier and waking up much earlier. I talk to people about the weather and the lawn. I worry about our economy and my child’s education. I enjoy woodworking and peace and quiet. I’m getting old, and with that, I think I’m letting myself become more refined. And now I shave like a refined man.

I bought myself a safety razor for Father’s Day this year. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but I’m now the owner of a beautiful, German-crafted, stainless steel and chrome shaving razor. I remember watching my dad carefully and meticulously shave his face in front of the bathroom mirror when I was a little boy. He always used his safety razor and if memory serves me, it had a black handle and stainless steel top. That image of him shaving is forever with me as part of who my dad was – he was always well-groomed and clean shaven.

I went on a “date” on a Saturday night back in my junior high days. My parents were taking my girlfriend and me to see a movie. As I was preparing for my date, I thought it would be manly of me if I shaved my upper lip. I probably didn’t need to shave, but I did it anyhow. And ever since, I’ve had to shave. I hated shaving back then because I was probably the only one among my peers who needed to shave. And as I embarked upon the manly rite of passage known as shaving, I learned to do so with cheap, disposable razors. I don’t know why my dad didn’t teach me to shave with a safety razor; in hindsight, I guess the disposable variety were mainstay and accessible.

I remember one particular morning in my early teen years after I hadn’t shaved in a couple days and my dad said, “Come here. You look like the devil.” I followed him out to the driveway where my dad positioned me where my face was directly in the sun and he shaved my face for me with his electric razor. I was probably going for some kind of “look” that week, and I hated the fact that my dad was shaving my face, but that was one of the smoothest shaves I’d ever had – probably because my dad was anal about keeping his electric razor in top-notch condition and he raked it over my face a couple dozen times. I think he only used the electric razor at that phase of his life because my mom and I probably bought it for him for a birthday or a Father’s day. He probably would’ve still used his trusty safety razor.

In later years the commercials told us men that we need two blades – one for lifting, one for cutting, for the smoothest shave ever. Then they pushed the envelope with three blades. Then four. The blade I threw away this morning had four blades and an “aloe strip” that left a film on my face after the blade passed over it like a slug leaving a trail of goo. Schick and Gillette have done a fine job of manufacturing demand, making millions of dollars and leaving men with stubble and razor burn. We’ve been taught to press hard to get as close of a shave as possible and hurry through the process, which should be an art, of shaving in a feeble attempt to make ourselves look presentable and distinguished.

A few days after ordering my safety razor, it came in the mail. I hadn’t been that excited about a parcel in as long as I could remember. I immediately opened the box and was fascinated by the razors weight, sturdiness and shine from all the chrome. It was like I was holding a tool, not a piece of plastic manufactured in China and sold at Walmart. I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow lost my brand new safety razor between the mailbox and our house. I slowly retraced my steps twice to no avail. By the time I realized I’d lost the razor, I’m sure someone else had found it and was equally mesmerized by the chrome’s shine at least.

So I had to order myself a new safety razor. It arrived in the mail yesterday and I shaved with a safety razor for the first time this morning. The process was like cutting room-temperature butter with a hot knife. I had to keep touching my face after each pass of the blade to make sure I was actually shaving. After 20-plus years of pressing expensive, poorly-designed, mediocre razors against my face for a shave that still left stubble and burn, today I am changed man with a face as smooth as glass.

After splashing on some Old Spice and feeling that real burn from a real, close shave, I had Maly feel my face. She said, “Whoa! That’s smooth! Except you missed a spot there on your chin.”

It takes some patience and finesse, not unlike using a real tool, but I guess that’s the simple burden of getting that clean, close and smooth shave like dad used to always have.

Every once in a while I’ll catch Elise complaining about how I post on Facebook too much. She used to go to Janicek.com to catch up with our lives and whatever desperate attempt at witticism I’d convey for all the world to see. She frequently reminds me about how we lost all of those precious documented memories of our trip to New York City in 2009 because I was posting said memories to Facebook from my iPhone (“In Chinatown looking at penis-shaped seafood”). I didn’t much have a leg to stand on, but I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I would, one day, be able to get those documented memories and archive them in some fashion.

On Facebook, I get an immediate audience and I use it for quick posts — something that doesn’t necessary warrant a full blog post; more of a thought or an observation, or more importantly to me, something that might make someone smile or LOL. I like to think that I’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding obscurities (“grrrr, I know she didn’t!'”) or pop culture and/or current event glib (“is watching Jersey Shore”). However, when it’s all said and done, whatever I might share lives on Facebook – to one day be sucked into the distant vacuum not unlike MySpace. I’m a huge advocate of owning your own content. Every once in a while, I’ll go back to the archives of Janicek.com to see what we were doing on Father’s Day Weekend of 2002 or to remind myself of why I loathe the Dell Corporation. I also want to be able to go back and read all of my Facebook posts one day. And on some future date, when my grandchildren are doing their research papers on me, they’ll need to be able to quickly find information about the Chinatown penis-shaped seafood experience of 2009.

Last night I went to Uncle Google and asked, “how can I export and save all of my old Facebook posts?” And he said:

1. Login to your Facebook account
2. Click on “Account” in the upper-right side of your screen
3. Select “Account Settings” from the drop-down menu
4. Click the “learn more” text link under the ‘Download Your Information’ section
5. Type in your password and click the ‘Continue‘ button

Facebook will then email you a link that you can click on which will download a zipped folder that contains all of your profile information, photos, videos, notes, messages and wall posts — all in a nifty HTML format so you can read it like a website and click on links, photos, videos, etc.

So with all of that valuable information, I created http://facebook.janicek.com. It contains all of my Facebook posts dating back to December of 2007.

Worth noting is that this Facebook archive information contains Messages. While I don’t regularly check Facebook Messages, it did have email messages from folks that I don’t necessarily want the world to read or to get indexed by search engines. I added an http redirect to the messages.html file, so it will just redirect to my “Wall” page.

While it’s a manual archiving process, it’s still good to be able to have access to my old Facebook posts (online under my own domain and backed-up locally) should Facebook just up and go away one day.

I’ve been an avid user of Google Maps since its early days, but now that I’ve started riding the bus to and from work, I’ve really become a fan of Google Maps.

I asked the Internet for some help the night before I embarked on my first transit on Austin’s Capital Metro. A golden nugget of advice I quickly received was “Google Maps is your friend.” This person provided me with link to a specific Google Map that had recommended bus routes highlighted. I’d never really paid attention to the Bus, Bike and Walk routes from Google. And now Google Maps really has become my friend…

Here’s my quickest bike path to the Park & Ride:

And here’s the quick and easy “Flyer” bus route from my neighborhood Park & Ride, which drops my off 1.5 blocks away from my office:

And what’s also cool is Capital Metro uses interactive Google Maps that show you the exact bus routes complete with specific pick-up and drop off times, exact schedule data and even Google Street View photos of each bus stop (just in case you’re looking for a landmark or something to find the right bus stop while on foot).

I’ve been riding the bus for a full three days now and haven’t a single complaint. As another person pointed out in my request for help in understanding Austin’s public transit, “we [bus riders] aren’t all window-lickers.” The Flyer route that travels to and from Oak Hill to downtown is just a limited-stop commuter bus, hauling folks to and from their jobs downtown. It’s a busload of approximately 50 professionals — not that I have anything against window-lickers or anything.

And for the price, well, you just can’t beat it if you have to commute to work. This week I’ve spend $6 on getting to and from work by bus (one-way for $1.00). My Jeep gets 14 miles to the gallon and at $3.50 per gallon (or whatever it is today) with a 22-mile round-trip commute, that would’ve cost me nearly $20 already this week.

This evening I went to the grocery store and bought a 31-day Metro Pass for $30, which gets me unlimited trips on any Capital Metro bus. So now my daily commute will cost me approximately $1.36 (that’s my assuming 22 working weekdays a month).

So anywhere between $200-$350 per month to drive myself, contend with rush hour traffic and allow myself to get stressed, or $30 per month to relax, read, meditate or lick windows. Those windows taste mighty good to me!