Talking with you, who wanted to talk, it became clear to me that often, choices are difficult because you can not frame them into questions that you can answer. Like those word problems that I used to get in fifth or sixth grade math - the really difficult ones where the question wasn't what the answer was, but whether or not you had enough information to have an answer or if there were no answers at all. The discussion was like a word problem in my head, a rubik's cube twisting and turning, and all I was trying to do was get one side all one color, because otherwise it's just a jumble of shifting patterns. You state the problem simply, this job or that. It's like most choices, like black and white, except that there's too much history there. It's more like the choice between quicksilver and mercury, because it's all shades of gray.
This strikes you true though, it's a choice between a position that you want and a job that you want. So which do you choose? What's more important to you, what you are, or what you do? That's one way to look at it. Toss in all the facts and churn through that math though and you still might not get a distinct answer. So you start over and dice it up another way. In the end though, its really not as simple as a math and you never have enough information. You never get the piece that you really want, how it will turn out in the end. And every choice, so carefully considered, ends up being a leap of faith.
On the way to the Coldplay concert, after realizing that I had left my jacket on the floor:
Me: Damn, I left my jacket on the floor
She: You can wear this Haas Business School sweater, it's got this toothpaste stain on it, but otherwise it's okay.
Me: [disdainfully] No.
She: Are you telling me that you'd suffer and be cold rather than look bad?
Me: Yes.
She: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!
***
I wondered aloud (insofaras my keyboard makes noise) if pain had an interest rate. I often defer tasks until a later date because I can't abide the inconvenience today. In short, I procrastinate. Like joy in that Swedish proverb, a pain delayed is a pain doubled. If somehow I could harnass this effect, I'm sure that I could solve all the world's problems, war, hunger, poverty, intolerance ... and yet, I'm sure that if it were at all possible, I'd still be here, waiting for a moment that isn't now.
I'm far from perfect, so far in fact that mediocrity might be a better yardstick to measure by.
There's a noise I hate when I'm sitting at home organizing the ephemera that's collected in my rooms, playing video games or just simply minding the mindless crap that's on tv today: the doorbell. How inconvenient it is to get up, in my boxers and undershirt, stop whatever meaningless thing it is that I'm doing and answer the door. Usually, I just pretend I'm not home. Yes, I am that much of an ass sometimes. Luckily, this time, I decided to see who was at the door.
To my surprise two girls that live down the street were standing there. They said simply (and quite adorably in unison), "Your garage door is open." It was about 9:30pm and quite dark outside. Usually when I get home from work I close my garage door, close my house and myself to the world outside. I like to pretend sometimes that I don't have neighbors. Pretend that here, in my home, I have no obligation, no responsibility to interact with anyone. "Thank you," I told them as they ran back home. It's just that though, pretend, because in the end we are all part of something larger. We all have these slight interactions, driving down the highway or passing an open garage door. A chance, an opportunity to do something nice for a stranger. And tonight I was reminded home much depends on the kindness of strangers and the grace of two girls. Tomorrow I'll try to remember to be a little kinder, drive a little slower.
And tomorrow perhaps, I'll try to measure up to larger measures.
I don't have much time to get it all down, so here it goes.
She came in on Friday and so my weekend started a day early. We drove into the city at round about two for a beach bonfire that started at nine. Somewhat like the previous weekend where I drove into the city a little before twelve to meet up with friends at three. Somewhat, but not at all, such is the way my mind works. But I digress, and so did we. Along the way we hit an ale tasting which turned out to be a bit to much on an empty stomach. Who knew they made ales that were 12% alcohol? We also found our way back to a sushi restaurant that we hadn't been to for over a year because of distance and time and all sorts of things that Einstein liked to talk about. We ended up getting to Ocean Beach a little too early so we helped out with starting the fire and ended up smelling a little too much like BBQ Ruffles.
Saturday found us at the Aloha festival, which was fun and very much a group mixing experience. Again, like the previous weekend, but not at all. Except for one, to whom I owe a new mat, because hers got damaged in the ensuing chaos. To you, thanks for coming up to the city twice in adjoining weeks, even though I know you weren't coming for me.
Sunday was somewhat a day of rest. If you call jumping up and down, dancing to Miyazaki, to entice my niece to eat, rest. We had some good comfort food at AJs in Cupertino Village and we drove back home with the top down, racing the setting sun.
And now my time is done.