Straight Edge Life

I got an email from a good friend just the other day saying she feel like the world is wooshing by in slow motion. I wish I could say the same. I’m sitting here in the dark of my apartment, surrounded by couch cushions and an abnormally large number of normal pillows just praying it will all slow down. This week has been rough. The server upgrades and migration to the new facility kicked my butt.

So get this… Some of my friends are on anti-depressants. Others are on anti-anxiety medications and heavier anti-psychotics. Some take the self-medication route and smoke pot. Each one I have known since before they started their respective “treatments”. Good people in their own rights. Folks I don’t just want in my life, but whom I want close to me. I respect them all for recognizing something was wrong and doing what it takes to eliminate the problem. That’s hard enough on it’s own. It takes humility, strength, and courage.

I don’t really agree with the pot smoking thing. But then I think about what the difference really is between three or four substances that are all used for the same thing. I think there is a fundamental difference between escape and treatment. And I’ll be honest, treatment, in whatever form I’ve witnessed is treatment. Yeah, my friends are different from who they used to be… From chaotic, reckless, downward-spiraling messes they have resurrected themselves. While perhaps desensitized, they’re more stable, more in control, more settled, more at peace. Less dangerous. No less passionate, no less themselves.

I want to see my friends healthy. I want that far more than I want to see my beliefs adapted by those in my life. I value them for who they are. I love them for everything they teach me. Most of which I couldn’t, or wouldn’t learn on my own. I’d say them by name but I don’t want to disrespect their privacy. You know who you are. I love you. Don’t change a thing and don’t ever think I would judge you for taking care of yourself.

The truth is that I often wish for a magic bullet. For something that could slow my life down and drop the stress level by 50 or 60 points. But I know all too well that my troubles and stresses are self-inflicted. It’s amazing how easy it is to say that out loud and how astonishingly difficult it is to actually do something about it. To realize with perfect clarity the traps and limitations I set for myself mentally; and then simply lack the courage to change it. I justify working too hard with some sort of messed up pragmatic logic. It’s no wonder so many people in my position have heart attacks. They don’t feed their heart by doing the things they love. They feed their wallets, or their sense of puritan responsibility with inhuman amounts of work. It’s a known quantity. It’s encouraged in our society, blah, blah, blah… But I know… and I bet every guy who’s felt that evil pain in his chest knows… work isn’t anything but work. Health is the only thing worth pursuing. Health in all of it’s forms. Passion, love, adventure, pleasure. Pleasure and Adventure. I should capitalize those words from now on.

I’m in the middle of a massive upgrade to the server that hosts this site. This includes changes to the hardware, database and lasso systems. On Friday night the entire setup will be moving to a new hosting facility. This site will be offline for most of Friday night.

I spent the whole week walking around thinking “damn, who did I cut off in traffic to deserve this crap?”.

Ever have one of those weeks when you can’t get anything right? You’re going along, just doing your thing, no changes from normal and just nothing goes your way? Maybe you’re a bit stressed and a bit withdrawn, letting the small stuff slide… yeah, nothing all that unusual. And certainly not deserving of some sort of cosmic retribution.

I don’t like it when the events of a week bring me to question my own intentions, my own motives, and my actions. I don’t like walking on eggshells. Relationships are a pain in the ass sometimes. And it’s not always in your control. It’s not always predictable. And it certainly doesn’t always have good timing. It just is. They just are… whatever. You know what I mean. Relationships are a thing unto themselves.

They give away all the good bits in the preview. The rest of it was pretty much formulaic. It’s worth a go if you’ve been living in a void and haven’t seen any previews. Otherwise take someone pretty shallow to see it. They might be amused. Maybe.

Something so very strange happened to me this weekend. I woke up on Saturday and unconsciously just got up and started to do a whole bunch of things that I want to do. I tooled around in my shop for a while, helped out a friend for a bit, and even did a bit of photography stuff. I didn’t worry for a second about the things I had to do. I did them, but didn’t worry about it. I didn’t worry about money. I just sorta chilled and helped my dad with his house, watched a few episodes of CSI and hung out around my place.

Could this be the end? Have I finally stopped worrying? I’ve got reason not to worry, I’ve got some ducks lined up. And I’m sitting here right now with a million more important things to do than worry. I’ve got photos to print, an apartment to arrange and clean up because my sister is coming to town tomorrow, frames to build and trips to plan. All I know is that I had better be ready when I am finally able to stop working so hard. When I’m free there will be no time to waste. Cities to see, photos to take, people to meet, and things to do.

Gotta chill. I have a strange restlessness in me. Sure, I’m overdue on a few bills, I’m waiting for a paycheck. That always drives me nuts. But this is more than that. I’m physically restless. I guess the point just came when I realized that I haven’t done shit ot make my mark on the world for the last few years. I mean I’ve actually been enjoying the obscurity of programming. The subtle zen sense of invisible glory… of a job well done but unknown. There are beautiful things about teaching yourself to do something that almost nobody understands, fewer appreciate, even fewer respect, and almost none find beautiful.

It’s one way to live. But one thing it does lack is beauty. Beauty is meant to be shared. It is bursting to be shared. The “beauty” of code is very odd. No matter how much I love or appreciate the code I write, it’s never going to inspire someone. It’s far to practical for that. It’s not beautiful in that way. It may do a beautiful job of making something happen. But in it’s own right it’s not beautiful to anyone besides the person who wrote it.

I will make beautiful things again. In their own right. Beautiful in that they change people, or make them think, or make them cry or just make them smile. I can’t live in this cocoon anymore. My feet have to walk, my hands have to work. My body has to move. The things I make… I want them to bring me closer to people. To help me understand them and to help them understand me.