Does anyone out there know me? A friend of mine told me that my journal wasn't very personal. I don't think she's wrong. I don't know ... somehow, spilling my guts all over the internet seems wrong. References to people would be thinly veiled, guessable. What would that do to my friendships? With my emotions laid bare, would I have anything of my own? When I met someone, would I have anything insightful or personal left to share? Then again, maybe I have it all backwards. Maybe this me in this journal is more honest and straightforward that my personal communications. Maybe people reading this, even this censored account of my thoughts, are realizing things about me that they didn't know. Well, I will try to be a little less impersonal, both online and off. That's all I can do for now.
Ugh. Updating this journal is tougher than I thought. Yeah, yeah, I was delusional for ever thinking that it would be easy. Anyway, quick update: Snowboarding last weekend sucked. Beginners: don't try to snowboard on ice. It's hard and it's hard(i.e. it hurts). Anyway seven days later, my ribs still hurt. Despite this, I went climbing on Wednesday. Personal Milestone: I was able to finish a few V1s.
Valentine's Day. Yeah, I'm sure everyone wants the gory details of my life. Well, guess what ... :P Anyway, what I've been thinking about lately is friendship. A good friend of mine posed this question to me indirectly, "Why are you my friend?" I thought about it a little, but in the end, it's real arbitrary isn't it? Friendship start (though with more frequency) like all good loves, by chance.
The real question is, what makes a good friend? For those of us with problems (you know who you are) I suppose a good friend is one who's there for you. But we all have friends who have lots of problems, and with whom we rarely have a quid pro quo arrangement, so where do those fall? I think for many of us, our sanity is kept by keeping others. Just as learning often begins with teaching, so helping others does provide a certain self-solace.
In the end, I think that friendship is made with those with which we share a certain kinship. In that way we feel less alone. In that way we feel less strange.
Lastly. My offer on a house in Castro Valley was accepted. Escrow to close April 1. You know what that means. Mark you calendars, July 19th, house party.
Independence. We talk about it alot, but what does it really mean? We have a Declaration of Independence that proclaims us a free nation. Yet we depend upon others for trade. Our actions are answerable to the world community. We exercise our economic and military might on others and we must be accountable and responsible for our actions.
Independence. This existential idea that the world is what we perceive. Cogito ergo sum. A statement that leaves our mind/soul/body, utterly alone in the end. A powerful idea, if I control my reality, then I control my happiness, then I can be alone and happy.
Interdependence. I'm driving down the freeway. I have control over my speed. I can safely navigate through the random scattering of cars. I don't depend on anyone. But I do. I expect that people won't try to hit me, because they could, even if I was driving the limit. I rely on others to observe certain courtesies. I'm dependent.
Maybe we are like that, cars on the freeway, passing each other in the night. And we find our own destinations, get there at our own paces, by ourselves -- utterly alone. But we interact. We are kind or we are angry. I often wonder at those who don't sense this community, those that believe that they find their motivations and goals in a vacuum. I wonder if they are just parked.
I've been thinking a lot about my house hunting. The mantra is location, location, location, but somehow I'm not so keen about living in Alameda. There's a house in Castro Valley that's caught my eye, but that moves me away from my work and my social circle. In the end though, after the choice is made, I don't suppose I'll know the difference between what is and what might have been. That is the nature of all choices I suppose.
Another disturbing thing: I've discovered that while I've been slogging through my work, the political climate there has changed. How naive I've been. And now it seems to me all to clear that I should have taken specific responsibilities, and what little influence there was to go around, when I had the chance. Just remember kiddies, everyone's in it for themselves, they have jobs and families to protect. Moreover, people fight for what they are, so if they tell you that gender and race aren't an issue, don't believe it. So make sure to fight in what you believe in, at work, at home, at the voting polls, at rallies and public meetings. It's everyone's right and responsibility.
My friend, Gillian, came up to visit me for the day and we went to SF to do some shopping and visit the MOMA. On the way into the SF Shopping Center, she turns and says, "Did you hear about the Columbia? It disintegrated on re-entry." I was floored. I used to be one of those kids who dreamt of going to space camp. Even now, as disinterested in national affairs as I am, I spend the occasional moment to check in on the shuttle flights.
I remember that day in fourth grade, watching the Challenger launch, carrying the first teacher into space. I remember being confused. The external tanks didn't do that when they detached did they? Where's the shuttle? The teacher turned off the tv. It's not something you normally teach in school.
January 27, 1967. January 28, 1986. February 1, 2003. Apollo, Challenger, Columbia. The nation's grief is enormous. Again, we bear witness to national tragedy. Yet, there is something deeper at work than the sympathy for those aboard and those who knew them. We are reminded that though we bicker about nearly every issue under the sun, sometimes we dream collective dreams, and sometimes those dreams are cut short.