I have been extremely maxxed on the work/work side. I've achieved a sort of work-life "balance" that is so tipped to the work side that the phrase "work-a-holic" doesn't quite get the dimensions of the beast. Part of it is my emergence from the battle with depression (I think I can proclaim victory, but it's not over -- just beaten into submission).
I'm who I am, and I can live with that; I guess the biggest issues I've faced have been my own haunting fears (things that will get you in the end if you don't face them). Some have been rather hard to face, others just plain funny.
I think the biggest issues have been dealing with my creative side and the fact that I have nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to making people laugh, or making something that didn't exist before. When it comes to creativity, my basic thoughts are that most people have it inside of them, but its mystery and connection to the almighty scare them away from using it. When it comes to creativity and being accepted as a male, a third fear is added.
Whatever.
I had a good, creative day, yesterday. Some things I had been pressing against finally broke like they should have (barriers) and something came into being. I worked a dozen different directions -- and a long day. Brulant is a different place. It's hard to explain, but from what I can tell, I'm here for all of the right reasons and it makes me smile.
Driving home after a thunderstorm (I drove the Orange Mach 1 -- the weather report indicated a "bad convertible day"), I rolled through 271 and Cuyahoga national forest. Mist covered about 1/3 of the view and I felt an unusual mystical connection -- alive, human -- the gentle sound of rolling V8 thunder behind me. I know this doesn't probably sound like it all goes together but I guess you had to be there.
In the mirrors I spot a white GT convertible rolling up slowly behind me. As the car pulls alongside, I see the driver. Smiles -- thumbs up. Mustangs are crude animals. They have suspension issues, fit and finish problems and for the most part are "just barely practical (see prior posts). But they're also something else. And it's not just me. Suddenly, for just a couple of seconds I feel that I'm not the only one who understands this.
Some things have died inside of me over the past few months. I'm letting go of some of my bewilderment at the stupidity of the world. I'm not saying I'm ready to forget it -- just that I understand that it happens and that some people are destined to simply be thieves and liars -- and that they have to live with their choices. Those choices inevitably change their worlds in subtle ways that everyone around can sense, but not necessarily see in an overt sense of the word "perception". As tiny as that sounds, the fact is that its enough.
I'm not dead, and neither are they, in the sense that they're still walking the planet. Still, it's a death of a kind that brings not a sense of anger, but simply pity.
--FeriCyde
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4 comments:
It is good that you are still alive. The world needs more men like you. A young lady I know once wrote:
"In my opinion, the toughest man is the one who is not afraid to show emotion. The one who isn't afraid to cry sometimes, you know? I think that the men who conceal all emotions are the ones who just put on a persona for the world, and that isn't tough at all, to be honest and upfront, and to show who you are and how you are feeling - that's tough. Especially on a man."
As always, it is a matter of truth for you: of being true to yourself, and to others. Few people ever learn the lesson in this world, and it is much more painful to learn it in the next one.
By the way, I am sorry to have disappointed you concerning your Java project, but I should not bother to explain, as you would never believe it.
Keep the faith my friend.
-- Thomas Corriher
It really was not fair to leave things with a "you would never believe me" statement. You can read the full story about what happened here: http://hencor.com/sarah/content/outline.html
I am working on a book about it, and I enter the story in Chapter 6. By coincidence there was another named Paul involved in the situation.
Wow, the rough outline is scary enough. I'll keep you in my prayers. Talk soon, if you wish,
Sincerely,
--Paul
I feel the same way. I know what kind of person you are, so I know that if you had been aware of the events in my life just after our discussions of Batch Login, then you would have told me to forget about the programming and do what needed to be done. After the crisis ended many months later, I figured that the programming thing was just not meant to be. Now I have some time to reflect, and I realize that should have informed you of the situation instead of just disappearing, but it seemed to be an emergency requiring my full attention.
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