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Thursday, the 31st of May, 2001

The comfortable grey day has become a hot, bluggy day. It's nearly as bad as the hot streak a week or two ago. At least there's still a bit of haze over the Sound; temperatures should return to something more reasonable in an hour or two.

Of course, I'm basically griping about nothing, because it's all of seventy-odd degrees here, I'm wearing long pants, and I haven't yet bothered to pull out the fan.

I don't understand this: I never hesitate to do something because it might make me uncomfortably cold, but even moderately warmth registers as "unacceptably hot". Maybe I need to learn to treat heat the same way I respond to cold: something to deal with, but not to worry about.

Perhaps I've been feeling non-social because I've been coming down with a cold. It's here for sure today: clogging nose, slightly swollen throat. Oh well; I'll take it easy and drink lots of orange juice.

My futon-bed yields a decreasingly satisfying night's sleep. A futon is basically the only option for this type of apartment, but I can't afford to buy a better one. I'd like to simply replace the bent panel, if there were some way to do that. I can handle a not-very-comfortable bed, but a not-very-comfortable bed with a large dent in one side just isn't working anymore. Being a cheapskate, I'm basically just going to continue doing nothing about it.

Progress is flowing smoothly on my project at work. As I fill in the features of the language, something that approximates a useful tool is beginning to appear. My mind is beginning to brim full with plans and dreams, ways to make the project even more powerful. I'm having to convince myself to stop working and do something else in the evenings. It's a refreshing change.

Tuesday, the 29th of May, 2001

I took a stab at one of the pages from the art project I've been designing. It's a layout with thick, intense text above and below a stylized face of Medusa. All was going well until I got hungry and started drawing a little hastily - most of the text came out exactly how I'd hoped, but the last line is uneven and looks like something you'd find on a junior high poster project.

The failure got me thinking about ways to render good looking text with pencil and ink. I have an idea for a technique which may allow me to create more accurate (and thus better looking) characters than I had been hoping for. I'm going to create a sample image with a computer or perhaps a photocopy machine, then lay the printed sample over the destination page and transfer the outlines with a series of tiny pinpricks. I can use the pinpricks as a sort of dot-to-dot guide when inking in the text. Hopefully this will help keep everything consistent.

I've put a bit of thought into the integration of computers into the art-style I'm using. After all, computers are very good at drawing consistent text and crisp shapes with straight edges; why not use a computer for those parts, then fill in with the knotwork braids, spirals, and ornaments that are best done by pen?

In part, I've stayed away from computers because the entire point of this project is to reclaim some of the individuality and detailed craftsmanship that went into the production of a manuscript before the introduction of printing. I want little variations in the characters; I want the freedom to fill spaces with ornaments regardless of line heights or leading; I want the whole page to flow together, text and illustration, illuminating the words with colour and shape, as though some monk had spent weeks on the page as a sort of meditation on their meaning.

The problem, of course, is that I don't have weeks to spend on each page. If a computer can eliminate the tedium and free me up to focus on the broader creative aspects, it's more fun, more creation, and more likely to happen at all. I just need to think carefully about how to use the machine so that I don't lose the quirks, details, and overall level of strangeness that make these pages something to look at and not just something to read.

Thursday, the 24th of May, 2001

The hot spell is over, to my great relief. It's nice to look out across Elliot Bay and have difficulty making out Bainbridge Island through the grey haze. I wore only a short-sleeved shirt when Beth and I went out kayaking on Tuesday, and my arms are visibly red. I hope it doesn't set into a tan.

It's been a quiet, almost uneventful week. Besides kayaking, we've been down to the Pike Place Market a couple of times to get dinner supplies, went to see "Shrek", and played pool at the Capitol Garage. That's about it.

I'm in a mixed mood. I've been nonstop "up" for a few weeks now, so maybe a few days of relative blueness will do me some good.

The plan for my "Medusa" art project is finished. I can see all of the important details, and even some of the minor ones. Soon it'll be time to start putting marks on paper. I expect I will go through several drafts, and have been sketching out pieces in my notebook in order to get the look right ahead of time.

Tuesday, the 22nd of May, 2001

I found my missing crystal earring. I looked over and saw it, just sitting there on the floor. I'm glad to have it back, but I do have to wonder why I never spotted it before. Was it sitting there all that time, in that spot, cloaked by my inattention? Or was it moved by forces yet undescribed from wherever it hid in time for yesterday's seeing-opportunity?

Beth and I went out to the Garage last night. I played with my usual mediocrity. It was nice to see everyone again.

As I was about to leave, John (#2) offered me a "Flaming Doctor". Already rather tipsy, I was in a "what the hell" mood, and downed it. This led to a sudden, remarkable state of intoxication; nothing bad happened, but I think I will not be making a habit of that.

And yes, it really does taste like Dr. Pepper.

Monday, the 21st of May, 2001

Day one, life in a wireless office. Mostly wireless, anyway - I don't have the phone-forwarding set up yet, so there's a chance of missing calls if I happen to be out. This is not good, as I want to leave the impression that I'm sitting an my desk working hard during business hours. Whether that desk is in my apartment or at a cafe somewhere shouldn't matter, but the effect needs to be seamless. And it's not really day one, as I technically spent the day working on Friday - but this is the start of a new week, and it feels like a more appropriate point to say Look out world, here's my new life.

I have a good feeling about it.

Beth is a bit under the weather and has been spending a lot of time asleep. This is certainly the best thing for her right now, and I expect she'll be back to health in a couple of days. There's not much to do in my apartment but lay on the couch or the heap of pillows and read, so conditions are excellent for napping. I'd expected to be rather more active during her stay, but my usual guest-entertainment mode is somewhat frantic, and perhaps this unusual stay-at-home relaxing thing will bring more satisfaction in the end.

Saturday, the 19th of May, 2001

An interesting, if somewhat uneventful day.

Beth and I explored the Pike Place Market. She was amused to see so many tourists standing around just to watch the flying fish company sell their wares.

We visited the Utilikilts booth, where I tried on their basic black model and liked it rather a lot. I think I'll be getting one. I can't decide whether to go back tomorrow and pick up the kilt I tried on, or wait six weeks to have one custom-made in their "neotraditional" style with silver buttons. I'd also like them to omit the logo on the back pocket, or at least render it in black thread so it won't be quite so visible, but I'm not sure I'll be able to convince them to do it.

We wandered down the Hillclimb and out to the water. Then she got tired and we went home.

I'd hoped to drag her out to the club tonight, but she's been dozing all afternoon and I doubt she'll have the energy for it.

Thursday, the 17th of May, 2001

Back home.

I met a man named Julian on the plane - an artist, formerly in computers, now an illustrator of children's books. We had a spirited conversation about art, ambition, and the tempering of one's need for perfection with age.

DSL finally works. It's nice to have internet access at home, though I worry that I'll spend all my spare time trawling web sites instead of going out and doing real things.

I haven't been this excited about my "day job" in a few years. I'm actually looking forward to getting going on it tomorrow morning. I've already implemented one little piece, while sitting at the hotel last night.

Beth's coming to visit this evening. I'm looking forward to her company. It will be interesting to see how we get along in "real life".

Monday, the 14th of May, 2001

San Diego. Building REALbasic. Learning the software systems with which my upcoming days will be filled.

Olivia's visit went well. I hope she ends up moving to Seattle; I'd love to have her around. We went kayaking on Lake Union, shopping on Capitol Hill, out to restaurants and movies.

She had fun at the Metro - tried on velvet pants, a top with flowy mesh sleeves, a strappy mini-corset style top. She looked marvelous, but has little opportunity to wear clothe.s so dramatic and didn't buy anything.

There's nothing like spending a weekend with a mature young woman who doesn't happen to have yet spent 21 years on earth to show you the silliness of American liquor laws.

Wednesday, the 9th of May, 2001

I'm still in Austin. I've done no actual programming yet; what time I haven't been busy setting up a development environment has been spent in design meetings.

REALbasic is obviously driven heavily by marketing concerns, but after a few failed projects, I've come to the opinion that this is a good thing. Better a pretty good product that makes many people's lives easier than a brilliant piece of work whose excellence astonishes all two of its users. Besides, it's past the new-product hump and has reached the point where developers can pick neat improvements to focus on instead of having to point all effort merely toward making it saleable.

Beth and I went to a little Chinese buffet restaurant last night and will probably attempt cooking from scratch tonight. This is a short visit and we haven't had time to do very much, but we did manage to spend a couple of hours last night playing the new Myst game. It's been a surprisingly pleasant visit and we are both looking forward to her stay in Seattle.

Monday, the 7th of May, 2001

I'm getting set up at Real Software. I have a nice new laptop, a big pile of software development tools, some friendly co-workers, and a Mission.

Austin is pleasant. It's a bit warm, but I expected that, and it's nothing I can't deal with.

This feels like the beginning of something good.

Friday, the 4th of May, 2001

It is my last day at Real Networks. My office has a bright, washed-out look; with all my lamps gone, I've turned on the overhead fluorescent light for the first time since I moved in. The wall is big and blank where my sun-moon-stars tapestry hung. A box in the corner, stuffed full of books and knicknacks, sprouts a thicket of mother-in-law's-tongue waiting to be taken home. My mugs are sitting in a pile. Spare bits of computer hardware have been given away to deserving coworkers.

This is it. I'm a little sad, a little frightened. I'll miss my coworkers, the walk to work, the barista girl, the art on the walls, the pool table, even wearing that damned badge. I've had plenty of good conversations about interesting things with people here, and even experienced a few moments of transcendent technological bliss.

Tellingly, few of those conversations had much to do with work. Even as I'm looking around with a little bit of loneliness, I'm looking forward to the next thing. It'll be different, and it'll be harder than I expect in ways I haven't guessed, but it might just be the most fun I've ever had.

It's time to shut Calydon and Bantock down for the last time, get ready for my exit interview, and then head home.

Thursday, the 3rd of May, 2001

It was Britpop night at the Baltic Room. Anthony felt like trying somewhere new, so he recruited Ethel, me, and Shiloh to go check it out with him. The club is actually more of a lounge; it's a mildly swanky sort of place, with wood-panelled walls and high-backed booths. The drinks are pricey, but it's a good place to relax and talk with friends. You don't actually have to shout to be heard.

The music was fun, and I heard a few songs that I'd forgotten about. The dance floor was a bit small, but that didn't seem to bother anyone. The crowd was a lot more sedate than I'm accustomed to. I felt unusually flamboyant, almost uncomfortably so, and was glad that I'd been in too much of a hurry to put on makeup.

I doubt I'll make the Baltic Room one of my regular haunts, but I'll certainly be back every now and then.

Wednesday, the 2nd of May, 2001

My telecommunications needs will now be served by a Mitsubishi G310 cellular phone. A twelve month contract - never thought I'd be signing one of those. One more foot in the grave of yuppiedom.

This divorce thing is harder than I thought it would be. The immediate shock of the breakup passed quickly, but there's a low hazy sadness that flares up whenever something brings her to mind. This burns right now, and I feel mixed up regret and blunted longing. A little doubt creeps into the certainty that I did the right thing. It's easier to give a little sigh for what might have been than to remember the agony that made it impossible.

I will probably always feel a little pang when I think of her and what might have been. This is a comfort, in a way, because it makes me feel that what we had must have been worth something. It's also a frustration, to be unable to let it go and move on by force of will. I have to wait for the feelings to work themselves out on their own time.

The excessively helpful VoiceStream salesperson met with no success in her attempts to waive the mobile phone account deposit. Since I don't particularly care to make VoiceStream an interest-free loan of that magnitude, this means I either need to locate an equivalent account package with another provider, or stick to the landline.

Tuesday, the 1st of May, 2001

I can get by without a car. Really. It's not even hard.

But I keep seeing things and thinking - if only I had a way to get out of the city center, I could go do that, or see that.

I want to fix my jeep. I'm just worried that I will come to regret money put into it. I can make it last forever, I'm sure, but that gets expensive, and there are other things I'd rather spend the money on.

Still, it'd be cheaper by half to rebuild or replace all of my jeep's running gear than to buy an equivalent five-year-old vehicle. What I can't buy are things like a quieter ride, a more spacious interior, and peace of mind from reduced odds of a breakdown. How much are these things worth?

Yesterday was the tax deadline for those of us lucky enough to have experienced a few seconds of rolling earth earlier this year. Once again, I found myself dropping off the completed envelope at the post office an hour before the deadline. I thought I'd do better this year, and actually got H&R Block started on the paperwork two months ago, but some forms proved difficult to track down (thanks a lot, eTrade!) and once again the whole thing didn't come together until the last minute.

H&R Block didn't finish preparing the return until 5:00. They closed at 7:00. The return needed both my signature and Kelly's. Kelly couldn't leave until 7:00. I suggested that I pick up the forms, she could meet me somewhere to sign them, and I'd mail them afterward. She thought this would work, and with a crunching twist in my chest we agreed on a place and time.

It's been close to four months since I last saw her. It was a little jolt at first - her face was instantly recognizable, of course, but somehow no longer familiar.

We took care of the tax paperwork, signed the return, agreed on payment arrangements.

I took the divorce forms out of my folder. We looked them over, filled in the remaining details, and signed.

And then - tentatively, awkwardly - we started talking. Are you doing alright? How have things changed? Who are you now?

We've both more fully inhabited the skins we wore when we broke up. We've reached out and found friends, lovers, lifestyles that suit us.

In many ways we've reversed places. My need to change the world and perpetual search for a long-range plan always frustrated her, and her seeming lack of any care for tomorrow irritated me. Yet today I'm living a relaxed, largely unplanned life; I no longer expect to make any impact on the world around me and am willing to trust the future to take care of itself. She has become active in politics - lobbying representatives, supporting activist campaigns - and has gone to work for a startup. She has stock options and thinks about buying a house.

The conversation defined "mixed emotion". It was good to hear what's been going on in her life. I'm relieved that she's doing well and happy that she has found someone she can share life with. Still, it stings; I can't help the little what-ifs and nipping regrets. She's going on, and I'm not there; I never will be there, and truly I don't want to be there, but part of me misses her anyway.

The anger is gone, she says. She let it go when I left. That's good, I think; I can content myself with the thought that all that pain accomplished something in the end.

Maybe we'll get together for coffee in a few months. Maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter.