Touched II - An ode to a recently rediscovered friend

Soft, warm eyes, a warm smile, a gentle yet strong touch and beauty, physical beauty to match Helen of Troy, intellectual beauty much sought but seldom found, a spiritual connection with similar beliefs that rivals any I have found to date and an emotional beauty of the moment that can be both astoundingly grand and as quiet as a still, wood-bound pond under the full moon.

I have known her before, in that there can be no doubt. No person could have this much of an effect on my life without having shared a previous one. I hope to count her among my true friends, though there is some doubt to that. Passions of the heart can cause interesting issues. Still, for my part, I think I shall always wish to call her friend. My love for another seldom dies, though it may change via the trials of time.

Here's to true friendship: May it blossom in the hearts of all man-kind to such a degree that the sorrows of the world may be put behind us.

Touched - An ode to an old friend.

I lived for the touch of a hand that was not my own and when I found that, I pursued it to the ends of the earth. I opened my heart for the very first time, so wide that the doors could not be seen. But you were swayed by another. I hoped and I prayed that each day, you'd return, but alas, I let you go and you chose another.

I found out later the fault was mine. Had I actually continued to pursue, you would have returned. Part of me is glad I didn't. I know now it wasn't right. I know now you would have suffered...and I love you too much for you to suffer, at least by my hand or by my heart.

Initially I trailed. I trailed after you like a lost puppy, gladly accepting any crumbs of affection or even derision and somehow that was enough. But then you moved away and although I didn't know it at the time, a part of me was glad. At least I couldn't trail after you like that any more. Maybe I could regain some self-respect. Maybe I could learn to love someone else.

I did, kind of. I found someone, younger, not you, not really like you. Long brown hair, narrow, almost angular face, excellent musician. I liked her. I think I even loved her, but there was so little in common. She left, I think or maybe I left her. It's hard to remember.

And then there was my first wife. Ah, but you know all about her. - You even know about my second ex-wife. And you know about all my lovers and all my friends. You know my life almost as well as you know your own. Yet here I am, still thinking about you, still wanting you, though differently now. What has it been, 13 or 14 years? The time just slips away like clouds over the horizon. I wanted to ask you if you ever cried over me, wished things had been different, really wanted me again, really wanted me when all the lights were on instead of a half-promise made during an inebriated evening. --- I would have, you know. I would have dropped everything for you, my wife, my job, my practice, my family, everything. I would have given you my life but you weren't interested. I can't blame you. It's not a terribly interesting life. Still...*shrug*

I almost wish I could really say good-bye. But even if we didn't speak anymore, I'd still miss you, still think about you and wonder what you were doing and how you were doing. All I'd do is lose a friend, a true friend, a real friend, closer than any other has ever been. So I continue wanting and I continue having and I continue losing and no matter how many come and go, no matter what happens, no matter if the world were handed to me on a silver platter with a picket fence around it, still I would think of you.

Empty.

I always wondered what a watermelon rind must feel like after all the meat has been removed; so empty, so bare, just a shell, not worth anything, even when correctly assembled to resemble a watermelon again, it is not. Now, perhaps, I know this. For I feel that certain choices of late have left me as this shell. I feel that I am empty and that I have left myself somewhere else. All that walks around now, is a shell.

The bloated truth.

Ah, another year and another Thanksgiving come and gone. *belch* The food was uncommonly good this year or maybe I'm just "starved" for a good home-cooked meal. No, that can't be it. One of my room-mates is quite an accomplished cook when she puts her mind to it. The company was pretty good, too. I secluded myself in a back room with my uncle and we chatted while I changed wireless routers for my mother and her room-mate. The swap took longer than expected but considering I had to guess at some of the passwords that had been in place and then had to find out why the one computer (room-mate's laptop) wasn't acquiring an IP, I think it went fairly well. (Incidentally, the reason it wasn't acquiring a new IP is because it already had a self-generated IP in the 169 range. Once I actually executed an IPCONFIG /release - renew, it acquired a new IP from the new router and allowed me to input the security credentials.)

The festivities were somewhat off-set by the fact that I spent several hours at work. Fortunately, the problem with the portal was nothing I could solve even if I did have permissions on the cluster. Instead, I played tape monkey, though that went well, too.

Confusion is still my primary mood these days and though I thought, late last night, I had briefly acquired some clarity, I find that it is gone again today. *shrug* More T'ai Chi, less synthahol. :p

Of privacy (and guns)...(Quote)

If privacy is outlawed, only outlaws will have privacy. -Phil Zimmermann, cryptographer (1954- )

The same can be and has been said of guns.

Footnotes of the world

There are books in which the footnotes or comments scrawled by some reader's hand in the margin are more interesting than the text. The world is one of these books. -George Santayana, philosopher (1863-1952)
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Isn't this what blogging is all about? We the bloggers footnote the world and oft our comments, our daily trials and tribulations are far more interesting than the "big" stories. Viva la footnote.

Quote and other foreign matter...

The mind is but a barren soil; a soil which is soon exhausted, and will produce no crop, or only one, unless it be continually fertilized and enriched with foreign matter. -Joshua Reynolds, painter (1723-1792)

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I'm not sure I really agree with Mr. Reynolds (above) but at the same time, I can definitely see a difference in the way most people behave given a college experience vs. no college. I hear from time to time the wailing and gnashing of teeth of some freshman or sophomore singing their tales of woe about being "forced" to take a GDR (general degree requirement, e.g. a math major taking an introductory English course) and I can empathize. Admittedly, it is unlikely that some people will ever use some of the information they are requested to learn. Still, I believe it is wise to expose a mind to many different ways of thinking. If only one method of thinking is available, then something new later on is more likely to cause confusion than edification.

I've been cleaning most of the day and still have much to do but at least a dent has been made in the process. It is moderately amazing how messy a house can become when four people (three, mostly) live here and only one cleans. That reason alone is cause for some amount of relief at the prospect of one less living here next semester and even fewer for summer. Please do not mistake me; I like all of them very much but I would still rather have my space.

Friday I did something I seldom do and enjoy even less. I sent a rather directive email to the aforementioned injurious student. It outlined what I want him to do, what he did to warrant this treatment and what will happen if he chooses to ignore my request. I believe he has received it, even though I received no read-receipt. I hope it did not hurt his feelings too much as that was not my intent. I simply cannot have him hurting the rest of the attendees of club. I guess time will tell. I just hope he doesn't decide to act foolishly against the requester or anyone else for that matter.

Although my home life has been interesting of late, I am not at liberty to discuss it here, but it definitely warrants a chapter in Dancing with Kobob. *whew* What a mess. Assuming I survive, I will be wiser, stronger and probably a bit angrier than I have been for a while. Still, the last attribute will likely pass while hopefully the first two shall remain.

I had some fun this last Wednesday. I was given the opportunity to play Tripartite Chess. This particular game is an invention of a colleague and (if I may be so bold) friend of mine. Loosely speaking, it combines three chess boards and most of three chess sets. The rules are fascinating though the basic moves are very similar to that of "regular" chess. I haven't decided if I really want to play again or not. Although it was enjoyable for the most part, it really brought home the feelings I usually have playing games against other people. Yes, it is just a game, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Well, so much for this. Time for more cleaning.

So many changes

There's so much to write about but so little interest. I've lost a girl-friend, acquired a good friend, experienced more emotional pain than I thought I would but the choices are for the best. She wants something I can't give her right now, possibly ever. She has every right to choose her own path. And, to be completely honest, I don't think she can give me everything I need from a good relationship, either. C'est le vi.

In other news, I think it's about time that a certain someone learned to control their actions before they hurt anyone else. I have a "student" in Taekwondo club who has managed to seriously hurt three people in just over half a semester. This individual has studied the art for 12 years according to him. I'd like to think that in 12 years, he would have learned the difference between fair play and bullying. I must have been having a moment of optimism. If it didn't go against everything I believed in, I'd just spar with him and snap a knee or utilize a move in T'ai Chi known as an arm break, but unfortunately, this would simply be bullying the bully. Two wrongs (or in this case, it would be four) don't make a right. Still, it is long past time to do something.

Haiku

Battle for control,
The People speak, voices clashing,
Now, things are worse.