semioticrobotic's microlog

Being an account of semioticrobotic's everyday life

2025-12-02

I needed to let some time pass between entries, because of the job interview. I never know who's reading or what kind of Impression Management™ I need to be doing, so I just ducked out for a while. But it's over now—a month of interviews, all told—and I didn't get the job. I've given myself the requisite period of sorrow and self-pity, so I'm writing again, trying to reflect. I'm sure people who are more seasoned interviewers than I am are able to do this kind of thing without the emotional investment that makes the losing part difficult. But I'm not that person. And after eight interviews with some engaging and inspiring people across four weeks of scheduled meetings, I was pretty well invested. I could see myself in the role, as the person doing all these things I heard myself saying I was capable of doing, fitting so meaningfully into the team's overall dynamic, being someone that someone needs. It's such a weird and unsatisfying dynamic: to invest oneself in a vision of the future that then decides not to unfold.

2025-10-12

All Things Open, Day 1. Lunch meeting with the crew from Red Hat's open source program office to discuss a potential, new project—getting the band back together, as they ("they" being the Blues Brothers) say. I was transported, tried to absorb the tenor of Deb's unhurried and tranquil demeanor, Brian's endearing and relatable insecurities, Ruth's optimism and unbridled determination. After that, a podcast interview about open source program management and open source program offices with Shibby, and old fashioned at the rooftop bar, catching up, trying to manipulate the synchronic time of the day, stretching the evening a little longer where possible.

2025-10-11

Annual trip to the Triangle region of North Carolina, my favorite time of the year. Spent the afternoon with Jainil, eating our customary dimsum and drinking beers outside. He caught me up on the status of his divorce (finally concluded, initiated even before I'd moved from the area). He told me about his ICE abduction contingency plans. We celebrated the granting—after 16 years of living and working in the States—of his green card. He told me about his son. I told him about my wedding, my wife, the challenges that lie ahead. Then we went back to his place where his mother, in town from India as she typically is this time of year, cooked us dinner (paneer and assorted Indian street foods). Steve joined us, then his son, now 11 (I've known him since he was a fetus). More hugs, more updates, more comfort, more warmth in my heart. We played Settlers of Catan until continuing the game seemed irresonsible. It was late. I didn't want to leave.

2025-10-10

Mike died this week. I learned just yesterday when Mom sent me scan of his obituary, published in our local paper. I was two steps from the front door to get a car to the airport, couldn't quite comprehend what I was seeing, the momentum of the pre-trip hustle carrying me away from the gravity of the news in a way that made me feel disoriented. It caught up with me in Durham, though, and I woke several times last night, memories of our friendship flooding in, keeping me up and restless. Mike was a force. He drove me outside myself, pushed me, constantly made me confront my own naivety. He was my intellectual sparring partner and my emotional sounding board. He was the kind of friend with whom every 16-year-old gets Up to Something, the buddy everyone needs to make them nervous before learning something important about who they are. He always had a scheme. One day we were going to make our own screen-accurate imperlial stormtrooper costumes (didn't happen). The next day we were going to announce varsity wrestling matches (did happen). The day after that we were going into business selling classic gaming emulation suites or Diablo II contraband. The day after that he was researching longsword purchases. We played Diplomacy. We played chess. We played the Star Wars collectible card game. We played Risk. We played Hero Quest. We played Dungeons & Dragons. He went to Chicago after we shared Senior Week at his grandparents lakehouse, reading, golfing, and chasing girls. Fast forward 10 years: he's back in town for substance abuse counseling. His mother taught us Sophocles and Shakespeare, Hugo and Hardy and Rand. Fast forward 25 years: she's writing the obituary flashing across the tiny screen I can hold in my hand, messenger of the unthinkable.

2025-09-30

Cancer. Amy has cancer. No matter how often I say it aloud and how closely I scrutinize the text on the screen, it fails to make sense to me. Amy has cancer. She felt some discomfort at the beginning of the month and decided to get her yearly checkup earlier than usual. Turns out that was the right call. It led to examinations and imaging sessions and consultations and a biopsy and then the phone call from doctors confirming the worst. Another appointment yesterday gave us a plan; I heard words like "surgery" and "chemotherapy" and "radiation." I also heard phrases like "early stage," "high probability of success," and "very treatable." We let the words swash over us, wave after wave of emotional bludgeoning while Amy took notes and I did my best to absorb it all. Last week we were feeling scared. This week we are feeling hopeful. And in between, I am feeling angry and resentful. This wonderful woman and I have so many great years ahead of us, together, and I will be damned if I don't do everything in my power to ensure nothing gets in the way of that.

2025-09-16

We got ice cream for dinner tonight. It just seemed like the thing we needed to do. Amy's day was shit, and while mine wasn't terrible the news of her shit day really did make mine shit too. So we talked about our shit days and licked mint chocolate chip, beneath the slight drizzle at the old giant cone one town over. It's a building shaped like an ice cream cone that sells, well, ice cream cones. If only everything in life were so starkly unconcealed and straightforward. So a shit day, but one with an ending I can't help but think I will reflect on years from now as evidence of our newlywed caprice, a spirit I genuinely hope never fails us. I'm just so happy to have a partner who'll go get ice cream for dinner.

2025-09-13

A weekend of computer work unfolding—not work at the computer as much as work on the computer, as I decided to upgrade to the latest version of Debian (13.1.0), which led to a few attempts to reformat my drive, which led to my accidentally erasing my greater-than-a-terabyte media drive, which lead to my needing to replace said drive with another physical drive, which led to my deciding to Just Upgrade The Entire Computer Jeeze Louise, which led to a series of backups and restores, which led to, finally a working system on which I am now typing this (and am actually rather pleased). I still need to run a few backups. But then again, I always need to run backups. Amy way away for the end of the week and the firs thalf of the weekend, so it seemed like a good opportunity to do this kind of solitary, absorbing work. As always, I learned a bit more about Linux and GNOME and Debian and all the digital scaffoldings I'm so in danger of taking for granted if I didn't do this kind of work at least once a year or so. It makes the the tools opaque and forces me to wrestle with them a bit.

2025-09-07

Tired today. The pure fact of the matter is that I slept terribly last night, owing in no small part to the mirth and merriment (read: whiskey and company) of Saturday. Spent the morning catching up on things around the house while Amy ran errands, then joined everyone at Kelly's so Amy could make French toast for her birthday brunch. We finally got to give her the sealed copy of Wacky Blasters, some odd, obscure board game she and Kelly used to play together as children in the 1990s, and it was the huge hit we'd hoped it'd be. I moved house with that thing. Glad to finally have it in the hands of its rightful owner. Then back to the house to tidy up before Chris and Emily came to visit and tour the new place. Gave Chris birthday gifts of his own, then hung on the deck laughing as the sun set. We grabbed a bite to eat (and more whiskey, duh) at the Black Sheep before driving home and crashing. I don't often do tht much socializing in a single day. I felt it that night as my head hit the pillow. Hence today.

2025-08-28

"And besides," Larry writes to me, "pessimism mostly helps those we oppose." He's right, of course, and it's important to keep in mind, even if it is poor palliative for my malaise. I'd told him I'd never felt more pessimistic than I do these days, as an American trying to make sense of what is going on around me, way past the point of scratching-my-head perplexity and shaking-my-head disbelief. Pessimism: that general feeling of futility coupled with a gentle and complete resignation. I know it is precisely the feeling Those We Oppose would have me feel—are trying so ardently to cultivate in me. And yet countering it seems so incomprehensibly daunting most days. Luckily, tomorrow is another one. And after that, another.

2025-08-25

Sometimes I just feel like sitting in the dark, drinking whiskey, and writing. I'm not sure if that's an impulse worth exploring, or what I might discover it revealed about me if I did. I'm not sure I care. I just know that sometimes I feel like sitting in the dark, drinking whiskey, and writing. Tonight is one of those times. Amy in the bath, the Phillies likely to blow another important baseball game, and my favorite vaporwave radio show about to start. We ate dinner on the deck tonight, savoring the remains of a cooler late-summer day, chatting idly as the gnats circled the porch lights. Breathing deeply the cooler air and listening to the locusts' oddly satisfying cacophany. I thought briefly about winter's silence and what we'll be hear--or not--so few months from now. Snow will coat everything out back, a felt pad laid across the entire scene, dampening. The stillness. I think that's perhaps what I love most about fall and then winter: the stillness. The way all the year's commotion comes to a head and finally gives way, ushering in something peaceful.

2025-08-13

The summer drags on. Now that all the milestones are out of the way--the move, the wedding, the trip, the birthdays--I find myself yearning for fall, not just the temperatures (though they're certainly welcome here!) but also the overall sentiment, the cooler breezes that bring change and inpiration, that spur new ideas and new rhythms. I already know I'll be nostalgic for school, for the university. I will hear the drumline practicing from a distance, even as I'm too far away for the sounds to reach me. I feel like I can breathe deeply again, turn my head and take stock. Assess. I've found myself scanning job listings more frequently lately. I wonder if that's because I'm eager for change. It certainly isn't because I'm unhappy at work. Instead I've been trying to ask myself what I'm really seeking, what the force of novelty really provides for me. What motivates the search for alternatives. So I've been poring over the family budget, too, crunching numbers and daydreaming about the day retirement becomes possible. Again: not because I am unhappy, but because I believe the days can be so much more.

2025-08-03

Might just be the longest pause between entries. But it also might just be the busiest few weeks of the entire year, too. Closed on the house, spent two weeks traveling first to California and then to Hawaii, returned to hustle around hte county, searching for new deck furniture, spent several days following up with the company that delivered said furniture and damaged our brand new deck in the process, celebrated Addie's sixth birthday, had dinner with Oma and the Hongs to celebrate the house sale, and started planning our wedding celebration. I simply cannot believe what kind of year 2025 has become for me, for us. I don't know as any other year of my life has encompassed so much change. But then again, I also suppose every year might feel like that, at one time or another. I missed writing. I want to do more of it now.

2025-06-11

Closing moments at the family home this evening, after work. I returned to sweep the floors, one final time enacting the ritual that always made me feel like a proper and worthy steward of the place. I left my note and gifts for the new owners, arranged the appliance manuals, emptied the trash, took photos. I listened once more to Kara Jackson's "no fun/party," the song that defined my era in that place, full of uncertainty, injury, and restoration. That song no longer made sense after I met Amy and the light starting coming through the windows at new angles. But I could recall what it helped me feel as I meandered one more lap through that empty and echoing place. I spoke with the grandparents and great-grandparents who had lived there, told them I loved them and conveyed my gratitude for all they had built, the net that caught me when I was falling, falling, falling. Then I locked the door and looked back only once, to recall what it felt like to stand on that porch in my Halloween costume, family members pretending they didn't know who I was, then inviting me in and filling my plastic pumpkin with hard candy. Now I'm writing in my new study, transition complete. The view from here is incredible. And I'm not just talking about what my eyes can see.

2025-06-08

And we are married. After weeks of trying to determine what would be best, we decided that what would be best would be to just get married. So we did, in our new backyard. We self-united in the Quaker tradition, which the state of Pennsylvania kindly recognizes. Joey and Kelly graciously and dutifully served as witnesses. We made our vows to one another, exchanged rings, signed some papers, and grilled dinner on the patio. Amy said it was the perfect evening (despite the on-and-off drizzle), and I couldn't disagree. I was just so happy she was able to have the wedding she'd always wanted—intimate, focused, endearing, personal, and devoid of pretense or spectacle. I just re-read my lifelog entry from the day of our first date (2023-06-25), where I recounted my first "first date" in two decades. Amy confesses she didn't know it was a date then. I guess I'm not so sure it was either, despite what I guess I declared in my writing later on—I just wasn't sure how to do dating, so didn't create the vibe I suppose I should have. But her patience led us both here, so we're vibing now. And tonight she gave me a card that thanked me for taking her on the "last first date of her life." She complements me once again in ways she doesn't even recognize.

2025-06-07

Moving day, part deux. My turn this time. The truck arrived earlier than scheduled and the four-man crew made such short work of loading my meager belongings I could have sworn they'd forgotten something. (They didn't.) All my worldly posessions, loaded and unloaded from a truck in less than half a day. Mom and Dad joined us for lunch and some unpacking excitement. Dad and I installed shelves (the same he helped me build, he doesn't realize, in the hours after Hailey's bithday party where Amy and I first exchange phone numbers), while Mom and Amy matched color palettes in the bedroom. My stuff is all over the place, but I'm here, and that's enough for now.

2025-05-08

It feels like it's my final night in my family's house. It isn't really—but it feels like that, since tomorrow the house is officially open for showings and people who aren't my family members get to traipse through it without any understanding of what it means, what it represents. I'll set my alarm and rise early to get my car packed, head out for breakfast and a few days in my new house with Amy while the house is a showcase. Rain is pounding the roof while I listen to the albums that got me through the first few months here. I'm sipping an old fashioned and just trying to arrest the moment, slow it, take stock of everything that brought me here. I write with tears in my eyes. They're full of both sorrow and hope.

2025-05-07

Mr. Hong arrived as planned today. He made final room measurements, then took photographs. Mom was here for emotional support (and to help ensure I didn't miss an crucial details). The weather has been downright melancholy this week. It fits.

2025-05-06

I've coordinated with Mr. Hong, who'll arrive tomorrow to finalize paperwork for the sale of the house. He assures me everything will be final by the end of the week, and we'll be ready to hit the market by the weekend. It all happened at blinding speed, but I know that's what was necessary—both for me and for my family, who could find any and every excuse to prolong the process of getting the house "ready to sell." The basement isn't clean enough. The flower beds need tending. Those old holes in the brickwork need patching. We'd do it forever if we could. So I needed to find some way to ensure we wouldn't. Oma had requested one final visit with the house her parents built and subsequently left to her, so Amy and I picked her up this evening and brought her over. My parents joined us. While I packed, everyone looked at half a century of photo albums and reminisced. None of it was planned at the start of the day, but I think it's the evening we all needed. The evening the house deserved. "Now it's onto the next stage of your life," Oma said as she hugged and kissed me at the end of the night. My heart and head were full f things I wanted to say in repsonse. "Thank you, Oma," was all I could manage.

2025-04-15

So much can happen in two months. Too much. Not enough. A matter of whichever way time is flowing on the day I choose to stop and parse it. The house is ours; Amy is living there, and I am trying to accelerate my timeline for move-in. It's exactly the kind of place we can build a life together. And yet that does not make the prospect of selling the family home—ours for more than half a century—any easier. I reflected on just what this place means as I listened to Kara Jackson sing about not having any fun. "It's hard to be patient when you're waiting on luck," she insists. That was certainly the theme of my early days here, the constant refrain every night as I played the album again and again and tried to make sense of just where my life was going post-divorce—not just where I was headed but who I was, fundamentally, as everything seemed to wobble and the future had no shape at all, save for the next day, and then the next. But this house gave it shape; the walls held me together, provided a container for the shapelessness. Another brick in the wall of everything my family owes it.

2025-02-15

And now we have a house. The speed with which "life"—this abstract concept naming the motifs that arise from a succession of days strung together by memory—can move when least expected is really unfathomable. We toured a house Friday as a means of gathering additional data to determine whether to build an addition onto my current home or "buy our way" to the necessary upgrades. And then we fell in love. We made an offer that evening. Today we received the congratulatory phone call. The house has everything we'd choose to create ourselves—as if it were plucked directly from the collaborative wishlist Amy and I have constructed laying awake at nights, wishing in the dark. The office is already painted her favorite color. The house numbers are forged in a typeface I've always wanted. Now we fall asleep talking about "our house," our "next adventure." To prolong the bliss I don't allow myself to think about all that will be necessary for getting there. The paperwork. The late nights and early mornings. The phone calls and messages. The stress and anxiety. I just did all this not two years ago. But now I do it with her, and it all seems manageable. It all seems possible.

2025-01-12

We are engaged. I asked Amy to marry me at the cocktail bar where we had our first date nearly two years ago. Even as I sipped my morning coffee today I wasn't quite sure if today would be the day. I just needed to feel the proper moment present itself. No guarantee today would be that day. But 15 minutes before we left I sent a picture of the ring to Brent and Joey. It was on. I just knew. And that's how it's always been with Amy, every day since the start. Everything has felt natural, relaxed. Unhurried and certain. Comfortable. It frightened me at first, to be sure. After my divorce, I just couldn't be sure I'd ever find anything like this again—whether I'd *want* anything like this again. So when everything started to click into place so easily, so frictionless, I worried I was perhaps clinging to something for the sake of it, rebounding from the trauma of the past year and throwing myself into something without heed. I told Amy I needed time. In her infinite patience and depthless understanding, she gave it to me. The Christmas holiday was a glimpse into our future; time togehter with family, both our parents, our nieces, our siblings and friends. Like it could always be that way. Should always be that way. So I resolved to make it so. Now the future is bright like a diamond, and with her it stretches to infinity.

2024-12-18

Spent the morning in the basement with Brent, wrestling with the new bike he and Kaitlyn plan to give Addilyn for Christmas. What an ordeal. But we finally got it pieced together. The front wheel wasn't properly aligned with the brakes, then the brake lines had too much slack in them, then the braking grip wouldn't sufficiently bring the bike to a stop. We were frustrated, but I did try to pause one or two moments to note how this was very likely to become part of the Christmas Compendium, one of the many stories we'll add to the litany of tales we'll recount in years to come, laughing over grapefruit or through the steam coming off a mug of morning coffee: that time Daddy and Uncle Bryan built a bike for five-year-old Addie in the basement a week before Christmas, swearing, bleeding, yelling at the poorly translated book of assembly instructions. Occasionally we'd dip into my grandparents' basement workshop to gather tools we could use to ratched this thing into place. I thought of Pop and Opa and all the Christmas gifts they built, likely with those same tools, to spark a moment of Christmas joy.

2024-12-10

Sick this week, fighting the typical winter head cold. I know I brought it on myself because I really overdid the celebration on my birthday weekend. Too much booze, not enough water; too much excitement, not enough rest. It happens. After a few days of being down, I'm already beginning to feel a bit better--my throat remoisturizing and less like coarse-grained sandpaper; my head less swimmmy, more alert. I suppose I'd rather get this out of the way now, before Christmas and end-of-year celebrations. All coming too soon. Yesterday, I worked while Amy baked, I'd say, roughly 300 cookies (or so). She made impressive progress despite the fact that her garbage disposal developed a destructive leak in the morning. Then we had dinner and wrapped Christmas gifts for our friends and family. It was wonderful.

2024-12-08

Another day of celebrating, at a different bar and this time with accompanying pierogi tasting. I ate way too much, drank way too much, didn't temper with water as I should have, so now the headache ensues.

2024-12-07

I am 42 today. First was breakfast with my family at Shady Maple, then a day in Lancaster with Amy. We went to the video game/vinyl store, the comic book store, and the distillery so I could sample some rye drinks. Everything they craft is just so good, impeccably good. Too good. As we were having drinks, Amy received word that her best friend gave birth to her first child: a baby girl, now my birthday buddy. Opportunities to share moments like these are what make long-lasting, durable relationships possible. I'm excited about what we continue to build together.

2024-11-25

Today I made the final payment on my mortgage, the largest loan I have ever needed to take and a real thorn for the debt-averse like me. It was necessary and beneficial, to be sure--I needed reosurces to buy my grandparents' home and establish an anchor at a time when my world seemed to be losing its moorings. I have no regrets. But I have even fewer misgiving about repaying it now. The feel is indescribable, in large part because I've had so little time to marshall my thoughts around it. I'll just note that I now have less money than I've had in perhaps the past five years, all told, but that I've never felt happier and more content, more confident in the future and more at ease with both myself and my situation. Funny how that works.

2024-11-06

Nothing else to write about save the election. And I don't even know what to say, other than that the sense of disappointment I feel is overwhelming. The sense of foreboding even more so. The sense of fear perhaps the strongest. For now, I can only note that is was the first time I've ever felt sad at Walt Disney world. We kept straight faces and stiff upper lips for the sake of the kids today. But in lines for rides I could not resist reading the headlines, trying to fathom which timeline I was living in. The Happiest Place on Earth becomes a bubble for the Scariest Time on Earth.

2024-10-29

I wasn't sure today would be my last visit with Wicket, but I had a feeling it would be. I like to think he waited until I was able to get to North Carolina in order to see me one last time—a final concession to me, in the end an admission that he really did care for me. That was always the running joke, of course—that Wicket far preferred Kate to me. He immediately recognized her as the alpha of the house and his allegiance was clear from the first day he spent with us. How unsure I was then. How strange and alien this furry thing padding tentatively through my house seemed. And how quickly my heart attached to him, its own kind of leash between us. Wicket was an aging pup by the time he came to live with us (on his eighth birthday). He was already an ornery old man, set in his ways. He acquiesced to a few changes, mostly to appease the alpha and ingratiate himself. That included begrudgingly learning how to walk down stairs. When he walked outside with me he preferred to forget that I was there. But when Kate left me three years after he joined hte family, he was the only other animated presence in the now-too-large house. He was my bud. We'd lay on the floor together and watch TV and night, him curled tight like a crescent roll in the crook of my outstretch arm, which would have fallen asleep but which I dared not move lest I disrupt the scene. Today he leaned into me with all the weight in his little body, so weak from whatever we keeping him from eating properly for so many days that he just couldn't sit upright on his own. His eyes told me he knew it was time. I will never, ever forget how the moment felt, to register the warmth and pressure of his tiny flank pressed to my thigh as we sat on Kate's couch and I reminded him of how good he was, how good he was *for me*, and how much I appreciated his patience and understanding as I tried to learn what it meant to have a dog.

2024-10-28

In the midst of All Things Open. Homecoming. I look forward to it every year. If I weren't in Raleigh for this, now the largest open source software conference on the U.S. East Coast, I don't know what I would do. Every year I'm in the industry, my network of contacts grows. That means that every year I attend All Things Open, I know more people from more phases of life. And that means I spend more time catching up and restoring the connections in that network than I do watching programming, attending sessions, or visiting booths on the expo hall floor. This year I attended only one talk (by a SAS colleague); otherwise, I was walking and talking and dining and drinking and otherwise catching up with the dozens of familiar faces, some of the people most precious to me in the world, people whose happiness has a direct bearing on my own. Dinner and drinks with Allison (whom I haven't seem in person in probably three years) Breakfasts and Fruit Loops with Fatima. Hugs from Chad and Matt and Heidi and Veronica and Jen and Don and David and Ceasar. Hugs and smiles and outpourings of fellowship. My heart is full to bursting.

2024-10-25

Flew into Raleigh this evening, for some social time before All Things Open. I wasn't expecting much--maybe to touch down, get a cab, and head to the brewery, challenge Marty to a game of Stratego and lose, as per usual. But Marty wasn't around, and I remembered the brewery no longer serves my favorite sandwich. Luckily Jainil sent me a message and asked to get together for another classic: dimsum and beer. I struggle to describe the sense of comfort and elation it all drew together and bundled up for me. To have someone go out of their way to not only meet me the day I got into town ("You get into town on Friday? Then why am I not seeing you Friday?"), but to carve that kind of space for me, to want to sit and vent and listen and commiserate and laugh and share and find affinity in what occupies the other side of the table. Now that I've moved, going back to Raleigh and Durham is like going home; it activates those same receptors, produces those same affects. It's part nostalgia, part warm blanket, part caffeine hit. The overdetermining feeling is gratitude.

2024-10-13

Double vaccinations had me down and out all day. Like many, I chose to receive my influenza and COVID-19 immunization boosters at the same time. Great for scheduling, but rough for my body. Luckily, after years (!!) of doing this, I knew what I expect. Came home from the pharmacy, had dinner, finished the chores, and went to bed. Slept nearly 12 hours, my body clearly working through the immunological puzzle I'd just proposed, a sub-dermal phishing scheme meant to trick it into action. Well, it did act. I'm tired even after 12 hours of rest, but planned to be and made sure I took the entire day off. Drinking juice. Watching more "Cheers."

2024-10-11

Plans cancelled tonight, which was at first a disappointment and then a welcomed reprieve after so much travel and sociaizing. Instead I settled in with my writing, and was delighted later to find that the continuous feed of "Cheers" happened to plop me right into a sweet spot: post-Coach (so, with Woody) but pre-Rebecca (so still Diane). That's my golden era.

2024-10-05

The thing I was never able to truly understand about Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater, I now see, is how it feels. But I got to stand in it today after years of poring over pictures, processing the details. Amy and I had a spectacularly good day for our visit: cool, but radiantly sunny with the kind of clear, pure light that just made the house's living room gleam like it had just been built yesterday. What the pictures and the slides and the university art lectures never impart is the play of the light against everything, the way a body can feel in the space. It cuts across everything, making tight slits that run perpendicular to all of Wright's horizontal lines. It glints and refracts off the tears in my eyes as I finally experience this place, take it in. Or, rather, as it takes me.

2024-10-02

Lately at work I've enjoyed doing some light web front-end design. It's the kind of work that's perfect for putting me in a flow state, allowing the hours to pass quickly and relatively unnoticed. And the results were not half bad. Everyone who needed to have an opinion at least had a positive one. The work necessitated new reading and learning, so I'm even more familiar with CSS than I was previously. I took some time this weekend, while camped on Amy's couch listening to the records we bought in New York City, refactoring my websites and making them even cleaner. I note all this because I tend to think of myself as someone who has no tolerance for (let alone skill with) programming computers. And yet projects like these lead me to believe that perhaps I could hack it (ha!) if I tried.

2024-09-18

So often lately I've noted something I should log here, something that while perhaps not the most poignant or interesting would perhaps make for the best kind of writing exercise, the best attempt to conjur some insight or practice making a point with words. And then I sit down and it all eludes me. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's just general fatigue. Dare I consider that maybe it's just my growing older. So this is an entry about why there's no entry. How original.

2024-09-17

Amy and I now share a phone plan. "It kind of feels like as big a step as when we decided we were going to start looking at engagement rings," she said to me at the bar yesterday afternoon, as the breeze blew through the open garage-style doors and mussed her hair a bit while she watched the Steelers game on the overhanging TV. I had to agree. A token of commitment in the 21st century. We shared the news with Chris and Emily and received from them a hearty and genuinely enthusiastic "Congratulations!" "They got it," Amy said.

2024-09-12

I blinked and weeks passed. They have been lovely, however quick and fleeting--packed with gatherings, celebrations, merriment, comforts. I hopped back into my occasional continental philosophy reading group so I didn't miss the current selection on the unconscious/non-conscious in Leibnitz, Spinoza, and Hume. Fridays with My People have really been wonderful, engaging, and restorative. The reading explores a fundamental question: Why do we see the better but choose the worse? Why do conscious thought, reason, and deliberation too often fail to serve us as we'd expect when we're faced with not just dilemmas but also the most seemingly mundane choices? What are those facets of our experience that form processes subtending, informing, and otherwise shaping conscious awareness, providing its momentum and contours? A robust dialog here, for sure. Amy has been at home the past few days, which means I spend my evenings doing housework, then sipping a drink while reading this work. I tried to watch the U.S. presidential debate; I mostly watched the Phillies instead.

2024-08-28

Summer made what I believe will be its final stand today: outside it felt like 105 degrees Fahrenheit, a sticky and soupy mess. I was only outside for a few moments and I disliked each one of them. Some of the moments were on the way to a dentist appointment that was cancelled because all computer systems were down and no one in the office could find a record of my appointment. I could sense the chaotic atmosphere as soon as I entered the place. Rain will fall overnight, a cold front thoroughly shunting summer aside once and for all; temperatures will drop by at least 20 degrees and won't reach this peak for the foreseeable future. Fall is trying to muscle its way in. Welcome, dear friend.

2024-08-25

A day with Amy and no agenda--perfect, in other words. I drove up in the morning and we spent an hour at the arcade. I wrestled with the Terminator (pinball incarnation) while she set the entire top score chart on Tetris. It's a good day when both of us are inputting our initials into electronic gaming machines. Sushi for lunch--her favorite broccoli and tempura rolls--and then whiling away the afternoon at the brewery, sipping the new fall offerings and watching the Phillies pull themselves out of a wicked and unforgiving slump. The woman next to us shimmied like they do every time they reached base.

2024-08-12

Today would have been my 16th wedding anniversary. I told myself it was just going to be Another Day, but of course treating it completely as such wasn't possible. Not yet. With the divorce still so viscerally close in life's rear-view mirror, I'm just not there yet. I was greatful both for work and Amy's decision to remain in town an extra day. Having her here to kiss good morning, to walk and laugh with in the evening, and to make tacos with while complaining about our workdays really was what I needed most. In 2008 so much of what I take for granted today just wasn't part of my life--and so much of what I took for granted then just isn't part of my life today. I'm grateful for everything that has endured. The rum tastes extra bittersweet tonight.

2024-08-09

Hurricane Debby flung a flew isolated storms our way, just threatening enough to make us nervous about losing power during the workday. I know from living in North Carolina just how weird the weather gets when a hurricane is responsible for it. Sunny in the morning, then gray and dark as dusk by lunch, winds kicking up seemingly at random, rains on and off like someone's thrown a switch. We stayed indoors all day, working at first and then, when we'd satisfied our requrements to our capitalist benefactors, making pizza and playing Tetris.

2024-08-06

Absolutely torrential rains this evening, courtesy of hurricane Debby. My basement is probably flooding right now, so I'm not even going down there until tomorrow morning. Why ruin an ideal evening for thinking and logging. I'm sipping rum and sitting in my easychairm listening to thunder and writing on the text-only computer I finished constructing last week. Tonight really challenges my belief in the non-existence of perfection. Cleaning the bathroom this evening was its usual thing, tedious and boring and annoying in its necessity. But it's done for at least another week. I'm thinking back on all the relationships I tried to nourish today--messages from Lauri and Jimmy and Adam and Heidi and Allison and Scott and Fatima, not to mention family like Amy and Mom and coworkers like Barry. I sprinkle messages like water dropplets to keep things supple, growing.

2024-07-22

Two more weeks of nearly nonstop activity amid nigh-unbearable temperatures. It's typical, though, for the summer, which has now (incomprehensibly) passed its halfway point. Following the beach vacation was another family outing, then a weekend in Pittsburgh at yet another. Each was tiring. Both were fun. And they're all part of a wonderful tapestry of summer memories woven each beautiful week this season.

2024-07-09

Explained to Mom and Dad how I'd love to have a high-paying job for just two years, bank as much as I could, and retire by age 45. "But what would you even do then?" my mother asks, incredulous. Everything, I think. Everything!

2024-07-08

A week at the beach, with no access to a useful personal computer in at least 50 miles. I can't remember the last time I'd experienced something like that. Three family generations in one rented condominium, spending mornings in the sand, afternoons by the pool, evenings around the giant dining table. I read. And napped. And played pinball. Mostly, though, I just tried to be present, to let the observations and emotions just crash over me like the waves that greeted me each morning, to take stock of what this new life configuration feels like.

2024-06-26

More than a month without an entry. Frustrating. But it makes sense given the absolutely packed calendar I see stretched across the summer months. Trip to Cary to visit the work team on campus was excellent; even better was the opportunity to show Amy some places and people that are very special to me. Traveling to the Triangle will always be emotionally complicated for me, but it doesn't mean I'll avoid future trips. In fact, we're already talking about the next one. Meanwhile, in Pennsylvania, summer continues to make itself felt. We've had temperatures that rivaled what I'd experienced down south. I temporarily rejoined a few academic efforts, mostly thanks to Greg. The reading group picked up the selection I chose before departing, so to take responsibility for my actions I agreed to work through it with them (*Lines of Flight*, by Felix Guattari). And I'm acting as an assistant for *Capacious* again, to fill some gaps until the team can find a more suitable long-term member of the editorial team. I spend my days working, then my evenings keeping up with the house, watching baseball, and reading. It's been lovely.

2024-05-23

A phenomenologist professor and mentor once told our class that there was no better way to be reminded that we are all bodies-in-the-world (that we are all enworlded) than to contract a cold. I recalled that moment this week as my body registered the effects of my own post-vacation illness, a cold I picked up some time between arriving in Florida and leaving again three days later. Bodies entwining with mine, fluids and leaks from all the openings in my skull, sensations that remind me of folds and tissues that I rarely attend to. I am very much aware of my body-in-the-world this week. But I dare say I am feeling better.

2024-05-15

Final day of work before a much-needed pre-summer vacation. Work has been wonderously slow such that I'm able to confidently wrap everything that needs wrapping before I head out. Checked into our flight last evening and received offer for extremely inexpensive upgrade to first class, on which we splurged. Neither of us have flown this way before. I'm ready to experience life in Group 1.

2024-05-13

Amy stayed in town an extra day after a weekend filled with family and celebrations of mothers, motherhood, and mothering. It was a meeting-free day, which meant (among other things) that I actually achieved a significant amount. Looming ahead of me is a vacation for which I am clearly not ready, but will need to be regardless of anything else. Tonight, had a nice long call with Greg, with whom I hadn't spoken in too many months. I'll be temporarily rejoining his journal in an editorial capacity as the team migrates to a new back-office manuscript management system (Open Journal Systems—finally!). I'm glad I can help, but also glad my commitment can be time-delimited. I think this addition is going to be just the thing I need to nudge my everyday in the new directions I've desired for the past few months. I've been feeling like I haven't really adjusted the parameters of my day-to-day in a proper response to my job change. In many ways I'm fitting new puzzle pieces into the same frame, novel rhythms into older cadences, and it's time to reinvent it all. Beginning in June, as the weather warms and the daylight stretches, I'll do just that.

2024-04-24

Working remotely for a few days, as Amy's parents are in town. I've welcomed the change of scenery, as lately has involved a good deal of solitary toiling away at stuff—individual work on larger, more collaborative projects. It's all been great, the kind of learning I hoped to experience with the latest job change, though it can be tiring. Last week I made my first contributions to an internal codebase, which made me equally frustrated and, when successfully completed, proud. These were updates to documentation, but even they required adhearance to the same coding and version control conventions our software does, so I really did "learn the ropes," as it were. It was one of those periods from which I emerged clearly more knowledgable and capable than I was before.

2024-04-11

This week has an unevenness that has made the usual disjunction between planning and execution even more significant. But that's just a way of describing the week without saying it's been a "bad week," which wouldn't be true. It's just been A Week. Eclipse Monday, which was fabulous. Amy and I agreed to make special plans for the next one, 20 years from now. The past two years especially have made that kind of forward-casting daydreaming uncomfortable for me; in fact, just this week I found myself admitting that I no longer saw much value in planning for anything more than five years into the future. I'd been thinking about all the plans I made, the milestones I'd imagined, and reflecting on what actually transpired. So imagining my life two decades from now? I just hadn't done that in, well, years.

2024-04-06

Saturday morning on the couch while Amy is at the hairdresser. Coffee, vaporwave, and some writing—letters mostly, and this bit of triviality to pass the time and ease into the weekend in the best way I know how. Yesterday's earthquake is still the talk of the town (though in this case it's the talk of every town in the northeatern United States). Date night tonight: dinner, drinks, and a screening of "Return of the Jedi" with live orchestral accompaniment.

2024-04-05

Earthquake! I was downstairs wondering why the dryer was acting up; Amy was upstairs wondering what unnecessarily loud thing the landscapers were up to. Turns out, it was simply the earth moving all around us. Most remarkable was the duration! I've only experienced earthquakes lasting 10 seconds or so; this one went on for more than 30. So I had plenty of time to break attention from work, cock my head and search my surroundings, and both feel and observe the rattling all around me.

2024-04-02

So dreary, these days. Today it has rained from sunup to sundown, consistently albeit with varying intensities. I was out for a bit. Errands. Boring. But I completed everything and came home as quickly as I could to take a hot shower. Work these days is mostly documentation—great, comfortable, predictable and engaging work I can complete intermittently, asynchronously with my team, which suits me and allows for luxuries like trips to the grocery story amid downpours. I do miss reading and writing things more complicated, complex. But now that I've got a nice rhythm going with Day Job, I feel like I've found viable moments for these things, too.

2024-03-26

A phone call just as soon as I'd managed to rouse myself this morning. It was the doctor's office, calling with the news that the latest round of bloodwork confirmed anemia. I was surprised, to be sure, though not worried. We'll get a handle on it. Meanwhile, Stephanie was headed over so we could go out for one of our two-hour marathon breakfasts. I finally got to show her the pictures from Disney World. We talked about the fact that I'd now been in the area a year, an unfathomable timeline in some ways, but completely reasonable in others. How much life has changed these past 12 months. Work was slow, but I welcomed that today. Maybe it's the anemia. Maybe I'm just tired.

2024-03-22

Another entry tinged with guilt over the time that's passed since the last one. Funemployment was wonderful and included a trip to Walt Disney World—but, sadly, it left only enough dedicated writing time to allow for final revisions on my contribution to the forthcoming collected volume on Larry's work and legacy. It's submitted. Then there was the new job: the First Day, the Second Day, the Third Day, until finally it was Week 6, and here I am, putting the finishing touches on some of my first major projects. I really think I'll grow to like the place. Spring is purportedly here, though the thermometer does not reflect its presence, despite the longer days and cool mornings that make me feel that familiar twinge of possibility.

2024-01-31

How quickly the time passes between entries, even as (especially as?) I tell myself that a daily writing habit is tantamount to my overall mental health and well-being. But the past few days have been like quicksilver on glass; I received the job offer, resigned from Current Role, started simultaneous onboarding and offboarding checklists, and generally just exhaled to relish it all. I know I made the right choice because of how eager I am to begin New Role. I'm already looking forward to the two weeks of what the kids today call "funemployment" between jobs—a vacation and multiple days spent reading and writing are precisely what I need right now.

2024-01-16

Back to work after a lovely and relaxing four-day weekend. Roughly four inches of snow fell overnight and through the morning, coming down in all kinds of consistencies, from light-and-chunky to tiny-and-pelty. I spent some time outside over my lunch break, shoveling. Dad stopped by to drop off lightbulbs he'd ordered for me. His was the only car I saw on the road all day, save for the plow. I wasn't surprised. No word from job interviewers yet, but I did learn that I was the first to complete the full interview process—and therefore the candidate with the longest wait. So it goes. I'll be busy enough to make the time pass quickly. Meanwhile, I'm drifting around my cold house, trying to keep the pipes from freezing, enjoying the special kind of peace and solitutde only a minor snowstorm can create.

2024-01-15

A holiday here in the States, which was a surprisingly welcome reprieve so close to the tail end of year-end holiday hiatus. I actually felt like I had time off. I did work a bit in the morning, primarily with folks in other countries for whom it was definitely definitely not a holiday. Then Amy and I played NES for a large chunk of the afternoon: Tetris and The Adventures of Lolo 2—both puzzle games toward which she gravitated rather naturally. We quit when her Steelers began their playoff game. She watched and cursed. I sat on the floor, piecing together a mechanical keyboard I'd planned to make for her. The Steelers lost. The keyboard was a big win.

2024-01-13

Another slow, gratifying weekend day at home. Amy and I watched the recently released Tetris historical drama, which we both found quite good and compelling. And for a film that is essentially a two-hour intellectual property negotiation with a car chase thrown in, that's really saying something!

2024-01-09

Unseasonably warm today at slightly more than 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Unfortunately it accompanied a storm that alternately trickled and poured all day. It was a mess. I ran through the drizzle to take my recycling to the curb. And of course it was the day my new dishwasher was to be delivered. That was a success, though it meant an entire evening cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen. Another satisfying day at work, all told. Still no word on the results of my job interview. I grow more impatient by the day.

2024-01-05

Job interview today. It's an odd ritual, the Job Interview. But I think this one went fine. The worst part of the interview actually comes afterward—not only the interminable wait, but the mental lap-running, replaying my memories of my answers to the interviewer questions, again and again, thinking about what I said, thinking about what they think I said, thinking about what they think I should have said based on what they said, and so on. I will say that I'd really like the job; I think I could both bring great skill and experience to the role, but also learn and grow much more from it more in it than I'm doing in my current position. Re-reading my lifelog, I realize I've been circulating job applications in one form or another for nearly half a year. That's a long time to sit with feeling a need for change. I hope 2024 brings that change.

2024-01-03

Today was a day of small victories, tiny advances warranting silent celebrations—a half-smile here, an extra satisfyingly deep breath there, and accomplished nod or two. It was my first day "back" to work, making an end to the holiday period and the official kickoff of another year's labor. I even allocated a few spare minutes to tidying up my presentation materials for a(nother) job interview this week. It's a fitting exercise in the season of fresh beginnings. The morning's organizational stressors underscored the need for that kind of change soon.

2024-01-01

Slept late—very late for me, anyway, but appropriate given the extent of last night's reverly. For the first time in years, I was awake to watch the year turn over. I ushered in 2024 at the usual family party, then capped with playing Tetris with Amy while sipping some excellent spiced rum. I do like making resolutions and setting goals, and here are a few I've concocted for the months ahead: Read at least 20 books. Re-establish a minor, comfortable exercise routine. Take steps to improve my overall job satisfaction. Reduce my living expenses so I can subsist on half of hwat I earn, then save and invest the remainder. And in January specifically, I'll aim to complete a decluttering challenge, discarding each day a number of items corresponding to the day of the month (one item on the first day, two on the second, and so on). It's like the thing-based version of a post-holiday dietary endeavor like Dry January—casting off the excesses that managed to stick to me as 2023 wound on.

2023-12-13

Today, I felt helpful and productive. I've found that the days I consider my "best days" are the days I'm able to make the biggest contribution to or impact on others' work. Usually (as today) I do that in some way that's related to writing or editing—helping re-draft something that's been troublesome for someone, or ironing out some sentences to help someone's voice shine through something that's become muddy. I often sweat when I'm doing it. That's how I know I'm invested and engaged. Don't ask me for any kind of coherent physioligical explanation otherwise.

2023-12-10

Dreary, rainy, bone-achingly cold kind of day. I felt it in my heart, then, when Amy left to return home after my birthday weekend concluded. After a full day of beer tasting, video game and vinyl record shopping, and nightcaps at the gin bar yesterday, we spent this one inside, reading, playing Tetris, and otherwise trying to fight the pervasive chill. At night I met Brent and Joey for a holiday toy run. We did alright. But I wasn't in it for the toys anyway.

2023-12-07

I am 41 today. So it seems like as good a time as any to recommit to writing here. Awoke just in time to see snow begin falling. The storm would eventually blanket the yard and the street in nearly half an inch of powder—but it melted away by lunchtime, when Amy and I left the house for sandwhiches at the shop. Joey was working and Brent met us there, so it really was like having a small lunch party on my birthday. I enjoyed it immensely, though it did make concentrating on work the rest of the day much more difficult. After work, Amy presented me with gifts: a shirt, a record album, collectibles, and some homemade Squirrel Nut Zippers, which are delicious. Dinner was at Mom and Dad's with Kaitlyn and Addie, and featured so many of my favorites. Addie helped me blow out my candles and open even more gifts. I really couldn't have asked for a better day.

2023-08-30

We're at that point, late in the summer, where the sunlight hits at the perfect angle for early evening walks. So Mom was over today for our usual trek around the neighborhood. We talked about last weekend and this weekend, my upcoming travel plans, her run-in with an old friend at the local department store, my romantic relationships past and present. The evening's oranges and yellows were an excellent backdrop for it all. The day was otherwise uneventful—pleasantly so, I hasten to add, as the beginning of the week left little time for enjoyment of much of anything (save the parts of DayJob™ work that one might deem enjoyable). This morning, I enjoyed 25 minutes of extra time in my easy chair, finishing *This is How You Lose the Time War*—my second time through but my first reading alongside Amy, who also loved it. Phone wouldn't seem to shut up today (making me glad I leave it in the other room while I work). Heard from Jackie. Heard from Stephanie. Heard from Jonathan. And via email, heard from Scott. Finished work, finished dinner, finished a beer, finished reading some work by Alain Locke. Finished this entry.

2023-08-26

Off work yesterday and a weekend today—all of which meant plenty of unstructured time at home, which is what I was craving. What a joy it is to act without compulsion from a daily diary, to see something that should be done and to simply do it without regard for whether it's *what I should be doing right now*. How liberating to follow an impulse, to solve and immediately pressing problem, no matter the investment it may require.

2023-08-10

Appeared as podcast guest for the second time this week. Interviewees happened to be two friends I had not seen in some time, which was a delight. Thought it might be a nice day to send Amy flowers, so did that too. And then there was work, which was work—fulfilling today, if not a little scattered. Trip to the barber and a few emails later, and it's time to pour a beer and read for tomorrow's meeting of the continental philosophy reading group. I'll probably spin a record while doing that. Perfect night.

2023-08-04

Front porch or back porch? Those were the options at my niece's fourth birthday party tonight. On the front porch: the younger couples, in their 20s and early 30s, watching their kids play in the sprinkler and wading pool, talking about their recent vacations, the local housing market, home repair exploits, everything their kids were doing to frustrate and amaze them. On the back porch: the older folks, from their 60s to their 90s, munching more slowly on the sandwiches and pasta salad, talking about the local baseball team, their charity work, their ailments and aches, the beauty and the glory of retirement, the price of gas. I wandered back and forth, listening, a 40-year-old man without a porch.

2023-08-03

Four meetings today, all lovely opportunities to catch up with teammates I had not seen in some time. I needed the refreshing conversation and the spirit uplift after learning that I won't receive an opportunity to interview for an opportunity to join another team. So it goes. Meanwhile, writing and editing the rest of the day made hours pass quickly. Early evening dinner with Amy was the highlight of it all.

2023-07-25

A long one today. Paperwork, paperwork. Took some breaks to engage in exciting activities like folding laundry and emptying the dishwasher. These are the joys of workign from home that all the remote-work boosters fail to mention. Walked the neighborhood with Mom in the afternoon, chatting about the week and the weather and my date last weekend and and my niece's upcoming birthday. Just lovely to be outside, to feel the sun. Still no word on my proposed interdepartmental transfer at work. Apparently that'll take some time. So I wait. Not always one of my strengths.

2023-07-13

The day began early—minutes past midnight, really, as I decided to stop tossing and turning and just get up, open the laptop, and write the cover letter for the new position that I'd been composing in my head for the past hour. It flowed out so smoothly, without caution or constraint. I submitted and went back to bed, feeling my entire body sink so deeply and so readily into my mattress, knowing that I had done what needed to be done.

2023-07-03

Work's frenzied pace forced a hiatus from writing. But it's a holiday week now, and I'm unshackled from the strictures of a workday routine. Spent a good portion of the day in the living room, continuing setup. It's the last significant project I need to tackle before I can say I'm "moved in." Not bad for four months. The air conditioning was out yesterday, but luckily the tech could get here at 08:00 this morning to repair it. The culprit was my grandfather's miserly ingenuity; he'd blocked the HVAC intake with some extra insulation to prevent drafts in wintertime. Once removed, air flowed freely—and the house temperature finally dipped below 80 degrees.

2023-06-29

An all-around average day at work, but a busier evening as Brent and I made a quick toy run before we celebrated Kaitlyn's birthday with pizza and ice cream. Then went to the local church league softball game. And on the way, Dad stopped to help me set up my newly painted and customized TV stand—that final major piece of furniture I need to really pull the house together. It's all going to look great. Continued to read for both my reading groups—Langer's *Feeling and Form* for the philosophy group, and Eghbal's *Working in Public* for the community building group. I'm hopelessly behind but really enjoying them both.

2023-06-25

First "first date" in 20 years. To say I'm rusty would be an understatement (and a tired metaphor at that), so I won't say it. Instead I'll just confess to being somewhat daunted by the prospect, conspicuously inadequate. She deserves better than someone who comes with training wheels.

2023-06-23

A day of spills. Spilled coffee on the new sofa first thing in the morning. Spilled oil while doing repairs in the garage. Spilled water across the floor from the dehumidifier when emptying the retainer. So that all set the tone for today and everything in-between—spillage and leaky boundaries, running from one messy puddle to another, dabbing at the edges, trying to contain the seepage. I was glad I could finally leave to meet Chris for ramen, the heartiest meal I've had in days. We looked at collectibles downtown and noted everything that once lived in our parents' basements.

2023-06-19

Recovering from two-night stay in the hospital. GI issues again, identical in nearly every way to incident two years ago. No surgery this time (thank goodness). But plenty of discomfort and fear. Just so happy to be home. Spent the day doing light chores and housework to celebrate being able to stand and move freely. Small wins, little celebrations, significantly meaningful.

2023-06-12

A dark and rainy one from start to finish, yet full of gratitude because the drought was becoming serious. The day was pretty Monday-ish, all told, but I did find a little extra time to begin work on the Closet Reorganization Initiative. Just taking stock of everything that's here—eveything I apparently deemed worthy of transporting from several states away—took about an hour. And I can already tell what's going to get tossed in the end.

2023-06-11

Hailey turned 8 today, so we all gathered for a beautiful, sunny-day party at the local community pool (note to self: when told the kid's party is at the local watering hole, know that it is indeed at the large, local hole filled with water). I stayed way longer than planned, but such is the nature of these things. Time spent like this—with family and friends and now their families—is the biggest upshot of post-move life. Then Mom and Dad and I watched the Phillies game at my place while installing Yet More Shelving. The Phillies won and so did we, because the shelves look great.

2023-06-09

This evening's baseball game was rained out. Everyone regretted the missed opportunity but no one was really too upset to see our drought-riddled town receive some sustenance. We really did (and do) need it. So the evening consisted of driving into the city, jockying for a parking space, walking several blocks to the ballpark, locating family amidst the crowd, pushing through said crowd to find general admission seating, directing one another where to sit to maximize group space, and then promptly standing back up and running for cover when the skies opened up. My niece was surprisingly resilient, and asked me to hold her while we waiting under an awning for the downpour to return to drizzle. She jumped into my arms and we stood there, her tiny body limp and fragile in my arms, her face tucked into my right shoulder crevice, waiting for the rain to stop. I was suddenly hoping it never would.

2023-06-06

Lots of writing, editing, and "content strategy" today—all generally ingredients for what I tend to consider a Good Day. So today was one of those. Accidentally slept late and wasn't sure why, but even with the bolt-upright, shotgun start the morning went smoothly. Went for a walk with Mom in the afternoon, and we didn't get too far before rainclouds rolled in and thunder quickened our pace. Still, despite the rush we got decent exercise (the storm amounted to very little—a disappointment for me, actually, because I'd been hoping for a strong Pennsylvania thunderstorm as soundtrack to reading and writing tonight). All the while, I'm making room for my new sofa and easy chair, centerpieces of my newly decorated living room, and preparing for a delivery of yet another set of shelves I can use to organize Nerd Stuff in my study. Every week, this place feels more like my house.

2023-06-05

Not a bad Monday, as Mondays tend to go: writing, editing, community management—the triunverate. I even had a short window of opportunity to go for a run before settling back in for the company's quarterly earnings call. Refamiliarizing my body with the motions and demands of running took about two weeks but, finally, today I felt like I was acclimating again. Runs remain much shorter than I'd like (I still tire easily) but I can already tell I'm regaining capability.

2023-06-01

All my writing energy has lately poured into my essay about Larry's early research and writing on the concept of "communication," so journaling took a back seat during the Memorial Day holiday. I was off from work for five days; it was glorious. Friends, family, food, and furniture (I build and organized more around the house). I worked in the morning, then left around lunchtime to run errands and grab a bite at the sandwich shop. Local school districts must have either had a half day or had already closed for summer, because many of today's lunch-hour clientele were kids. A young girl came inside with her mother, clutching tiny stuffed toys and chatting with anyone who'd listen. While her mother waited for sandwiches, the girl plopped herself on the stool next to me at the counter and wasted not a second telling me all about what she was going to eat (ham sandwich), what she was going to do next (catch minnows in the creek), and what she planned to do that evening (swim in the family pool with her uncle and cousins). How easy she made it all seem. Three other kids threw open the front door after dumping their bikes in the front lawn. An older girl (likely 12 or 13) was clearly in charge of the younger two (8? 10?), who scuttled about pulling bags of potato chips from the racks, lolipops from the displays, and ice cream from the freezer. I imagined myself and my friends at that age, doing something similar, recalling that feeling of empowerment and freedom the wamrth of the summer always seemed to bestow. Afternoon adventures never in short supply. I quietly munched my sandwich as my own childhood friend worked the cash register, ringing up the torrent of hungry customers who breezed through the shop, taking the kids' chicken nuggets order. That was us one day.

2023-05-24

Today was the kind of day remote work boosters obsess about. Woke early so I could check for work emergencies before heading to Brent's house, where I drove with him to drop Addie at school. Then we hit the flea market, where I hadn't been for probably a decade (picked up Monopoly for the NES and a still-sealed Rush record). Lots of new things to see. Even more had simply stayed the same. After lunch at the shop, I came home, took a shower, and started my work day around 13:00. Broke at 17:00 to set up my stereo, had dinner, worked more, and just decided to wrap at 20:30. Mom and Dad just stopped with a takeout meal from West Lawn Wednesday so I had some lunch tomorrow. To celebrate the final community dinner of the season, Mr. Hong made fried rice. I'll be eating it for days. So happy.

2023-05-23

Brisk one today, but I welcomed that. Editing in the morning, then a meeting, then lunch, then more editing and program management before a walk around the neighborhood with Mom. We ran into Diane, who revealed she'd "rescued" Oma and Opa's garden sundial from my trash pile this weekend. Just got off a 90-minute Zoom call with Greg, trying to help him recover files lost from iCloud drive several months ago. What a mess—a cogent reminder of why I ditched Apple nearly two decades ago. Tonight I'll probably do the dishes, pour another Reading lager, then finish reading for group tomorrow.

2023-05-22

My first thought on waking this morning was that I was about to begin a shortened, holiday week—which can only mean that it's going to feel like an incredibly protracted, interminable, three-weeks-in-three-days work week. Everyone canceled their morning meetings with me (no complaints), so it turned rather quickly into a productive time. Lunch was leftover Ranch House chicken cheesesteak. Throughout the day I took stretch breaks and worked on slowly filling my newly mounted cassette racks. My nearly 400-tape collection is now on the wall, looking sharp. After a decent run and a show, I'm ready to pack it in.

2023-05-21

Mom and Dad visited this afternoon. Mom watched the Phillies game while Dad and I hung some vintage cassette tape racks for which I was scouring eBay not long ago. (They look great.) Joey even stopped by. It was one of those amorphous, come-what-may kind of Sundays without pretense or scaffolding that just feels good every now and again. We capped off the evening with a trip to the Ranch House, arriving at 16:45 in perfect Berks County fashion, where I could buy Dad dinner and ice cream as small thanks for his afternoon of work.

2023-05-20

A full day at home was quite a luxury today. Cleaned and sorted my new cassette tape racks, installed a new shower head, put my tabletop vinyl record holder together, unpacked boxes, cleaned the laundry room, shined the kitchen floor, and went for a run when it was all over. After a shower (under the new hardware, natch), the best part of the day began: I poured a pint of light, Reading-made lager, turned on some ambient electronic music, and sat in my easy chair, reading beside the open window in my study. For about an hour, I was completely content, at peace, settled. The buzzing of the towels finishing in the washing machine changed that.

2023-05-19

Finally finished the entire, laborious process of registering my car in the state of Pennsylvania. Four stages of work spread across several weeks. What a hassle. But it's done now—just in time for me to buy an electric bicycle. Apart from today's walk to the mechanic, the day was a fairly uneventful, straightforward work day that involved the usual interviewing, reading, and writing. A box of books sits on my porch now, waiting for me, and tonight I think I'd rather read more than write.

2023-05-18

Such a bright day. Woke early to call Laura and catch up. I'd missed talking to her. Worked through the morning, then met with Michelle to discuss finances for the first time in more than a year. Afternoon meetings, and it was time for desk work before Boehringer's with the family. It was the perfect pre-Memorial Day evening.

2023-05-17

Not necessarily the day I wanted (lots of housework), but definitely the day I needed. A lighter meeting schedule meant that I had more flexibility (so I used it to wash socks?). Brent and I could even go see Joey at the shop for lunch. And I shipped my North Carolina license plate back to the NC DMV. It was a slightly emotional moment for me, seeing that plate (which I remember so vividly getting) being packed up and shipped out. North Carolina—the place and the idea—held so much promise, so much potential. That "new chapter" vibe was so strong, so exciting. Now that I've returned, the new chapter vibe feels different—a muted hopefulness instead of anticipation full to bursting.

2023-05-16

Awoke to a crew outside, tearing up the street in front of my house to prepare for gas line installation. They started at 07:00 and were finished by 16:00. Unreal. A lighter day at work meant I also had time to run to the notary and (finally) get my car registered in-state. So two of the three arduous phases of work to bring an automobile into Pennsylvania are now complete. Walked with Mom around the neighborhood in the evening, past the schoolyard playground where I once played as a first-grader. A cool breeze swept across the block tonight, making it feel like an afterschool day from childhood, too.

2023-05-15

Day began in a bit of a frenzy because one of my authored blog posts went live this morning, and despite all efforts editors still needed last-minute changes. So "morning work" didn't begin until after lunch, for which I ordered a pizza. Also went out for a run this evening, for the first time in uncounted months. While folding laundry, a songstress said she and the object of her lyrical musings were "compatible like the same two sides of Velcro," a statement that just kept getting more poignant the more I thought about it. Maybe I was just really hungry.

2023-05-14

Slept late today, reluctant to expose myself to the morning's chill. Organized my books, then set up my new TV. Cleaned my bedroom and my bathroom for the first time since moving in, then spent Mother's Day with Mom, volunteering at the homeless shelter. Initialized booklog. Initialized lifelog.