punkbassoon

... after a great tune has ended, save the occasional whir of traffic and the hum of electronic devices. And a few scattered voices in the distance, of walkers. I scan the stately firs and some of the pines in the distance through the sliding glass door in my living room, thinking about the beauty near my immediate space, beauty observed without the presence of another.

The presence of another, or lack thereof, has been a continuing theme in the last near ten years of my life here in the bay. No, it's not that I have been totally alone during all these years. Nor is it a situation of lacking friends in the area—I have so many of those here, not to mention many other friends abroad, some I've known for more than 20 years, one for more than 30. But even with the smattering of relationships I've had during my time here, the time in those does not even equal half my time in the Bay Area. Yet for every year and every moment I've been alone, I think to myself that all that time has been an experience about learning what to do with all this alone time. And more so, in this journey, I'm beginning to find friends that have actually helped me discover what makes my situation unique, and why relationships are much more difficult than most would like to admit.

In conversation with such friends, I'm learning that perhaps I'm much more "alone" than most people care to be, even myself. I'm no social groupie—which doesn't mean I don't socialize—but I don't chose to jump for just any company. It's not that I would qualify myself as picky. There's something about being selective about who you chose to spend time with, and I'd rather it be a fully comfortable time alone than an uneasy companionship.

Perhaps all that time alone was practice for more time alone. There's a sort of stark beauty in all this silence, being able to fully be myself, having no expectations on me even in the basics of when and where I should be (within reason, without speaking of work responsibilities, etc.), and not needing to answer to anyone.

Even with all these "advantages," I still wonder at times about romantic notions of actually being with someone. What is it to have that midnight kiss on New Years? Or just being within each other's physical presence while each is doing his own thing? What is it to celebrate a true anniversary at one year? At five years? Or even a decade? I wonder if I'll ever know.

Christmas. Quiet. This morning I tossed and turned yet enjoyed the warmth until the images between full consciousness and dream cease and I was compelled to get out of bed. Not to rush to get showered and dressed and rush out somewhere. It's relaxed this year, perhaps more than last, even if I'm actually doing something this year on the 25th over the staying-home I did last year. But that's later in the day, so no worries. Beside the point. I sit around my place—it's not fully organized or cleaned, albeit better than last week when I was still facing the full brunt of research proposal writing.

Sure, it's fairly still here, besides the whirring of the external hard drive off the desktop computer and the refrigerator hum. Sure, I haven't been able to raise my sister on the phone today (my father I did last night, albeit I did have a brief word with my sis yesterday too). A few texts from friends, but mostly keeping abreast of the holiday messages via scans of Facebook status updates.

Really, it's not as horrible as it sounds, spending part of my vacation and holiday time alone. Yes, in some ways, it's a choice, and yet in other ways, it's just a function of my situation. I'm unattached, but the roots I have put down reach deeply and are spread very far apart, geographically-speaking.

Perhaps I think of this Christmas holiday as an extension of Thanksgiving, a time to think less about what or who may not be in my life, but about what I do have, those I do have, what I can share, and what could be in the future, without too much pining away. It's not that I won't do the latter, but I acknowledge these feelings as a part and parcel of who I am.

I'm still amazed at where I am, and wonder at times, how the hell did I make it here?

Best Holiday wishes and a most happy New Year to all, especially those reading this.

I've neglected my pet writing here. Sometimes, I need to breathe, at least in the expressive, communicative sense. And here I am, recalling the spirit of many seasons past, of being in the middle of the term crunch and between the two major fall/winter holidays. At this time, I've been not only inundated with the work at hand (and that's school AND work put together all those times), but also attempting to send out my holiday cheer, holiday greetings to those far and near. I'm a bit behind on that this year—that is, preparing and sending out holiday cards. The funny finances due to pay period schedules, paying of rent and all the damn bills haven't helped one bit, aside from the end-of-grad school stuff (yes it's nearly the end, but so far still—that's for another LJ entry). But that's been my tradition, my past time, my mainstay. Some constant that helps me keep anchor in an unstable world. (I'm a bit weary of study being the constant, but perhaps that may too shall change, at least at some point it won't be what defines my life as it has for so many years.) So albeit late, I will get to those cards hopefully in the next week or so. Creating and sending those has been such a pleasure, and something I could not abandon.

Gotta get back to the reading and writing of academic material, though less willingly and not as quickly as I would like it to be. But I have what I have. So I endeavor on.

So amazing that Rheingold talks about—in the early part of this decade—the radio-linked chips that would inhabit our everyday lives (see ch. 3). Perfect example: I would have never thought of owning a mobile device, something pocket-sized, that would have computing power well into the 600mHz range. That device, today, is my iPhone 3G S. Wow!