Diary of a Network Geek

Okay, now I know for sure I’ve had enough of this.

So, I’m rushing out of the office to get home, let the dog out, change clothes and get back in the car to scramble to my friend’s, J.’s, birthday party when I get a “private number” calling on my cell. I have a simple rule with that stuff, namely, “no ID, no answer”. Then, I get a text from ER girl.

“Your vm cut me off…”
Getting network busy
“Weird…”
Yeah In car What’s up?
“Yes was just trying to call you back”

From last night? I think. Little late for that, don’t you think? So, when I pull into the driveway, I call her. We’ve got terrible reception and I have a hard time making out what she’s trying to tell me. Also, I’m trying to get the dog to go out and “take care of business” before I run out to fight traffic to the opposite end of town for the party. And, honestly, I’m irritated that she thinks it’s okay to skip a prearranged meeting, even if it was just on the phone, so that she can interrupt my schedule later at her convenience. I guess it didn’t occur to her that I set that call up for Thursday night for a reason. Also, when I’m trying to get out the door and do two other things at once, I kind of lose all patience with poeple that don’t seem to be acting with a purpose. And, by that I mean I can be a bit of an ass. Again, I know this and that’s why I scheduled the call at a more relaxed time. So, we agree to meet for lunch Sunday, even though I’m really not sure it’s a good idea at this point. Still, I’m willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, so I’m willing to risk the small investment of time and lunch.
Just to make sure she knows everything’s still okay, I send her this, via the Match.com e-mail system:

Sorry, I was so short before. Trying to get dog out before I got changed and went out again. How late should I call tonight? Or should I just try you tomorrow?

Then, I change my shoes and head out to fight traffic. The party was good, and maybe I’ll write up a post about that some time this weekend, while I do laundry.
But, when I get home, I have first this e-mail:

“I will b up fairly late call anytime b4 1am”

Then this one:

“How was the party? I’m just online replying to emails. I got a very nasty email from one man who said I lied about my profile. He told me I shouldn’t have said I’m a few extra pounds because he thought I was too big for his taste.

I asked several men and women what I should list and they said a few extra pounds because i’m closer to that than full-figured. But then some people said full-figured is the same as a few extra pounds.

Anyway, I leave it up to you. If you prefer thin or atletic women, let me know. I don’t want you to waste an afternoon meeting up for lunch. If you’re familiar with women’s sizes, I’m a size 16.”

And, with that, I was done.
Honestly, well before this point, I’d figured out that she wasn’t exactly tiny, but that’s not really the point. I mean, I carry a little more extra weight than I’d like, so I’m pretty open-minded about the same thing in anyone I might date. But, again, she’s putting me off, and, in my mind, telling me that I’m, at best, her second or third choice. And, this is going to make me want to go out with her how? I guess it’s part of that new math in relationships that I missed somewhere in the past ten years or so… Really, it’s not about the weight, or even that things kept “coming up”. I’m just tired of doing this particular dance with this particular partner. I think I’d rather sit this one out, so, I replied with:

The party was fine, thanks for asking. My friend, who was the birthday boy, and his girl-friend announced they were getting married. I’ve known for a bit, but it was supposed to be a secret.

I’d like to think that I’m more concerned with who a person is than what size they are. Besides, I’m not exactly a “light-weight” either.
Honestly, after missing the pre-arranged call time last night, I was going to pretty much call off anything on Sunday. You’ve put me off several times and, while I’m pretty forgiving and patient, after setting a time that I was going to call and not being there… Well, that was about it. I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and follow through, just in case my first impression was really off, but, frankly, it seems like a pattern.
I also found it less than promising that you didn’t seem to be able to read all of the first few, short, e-mails I sent and we had to go over and over the same questions and answers. I felt like you thought I wasn’t really worth your time. I’m no Nobel-prize winning super-model, but I think I’m worth paying a minimum of attention.

We’re both busy people and I feel like we’re wasting each other’s time at this point, so maybe it would be best if we just called it near miss and moved on. No harm, no foul.

I’m sure you’ll find the right guy for you out there, somewhere, but I don’t think I’m it.
I’m sure someone, somewhere, will take me to task for something I’ve written there, but, really, enough is enough. I had a better time joking with the married couple, gay choir director and the red-headed federal probation officer I was sitting with at dinner tonight than any conversation I’ve had, or can even imagine having, with ER girl. (Actually, the probation officer is kind of cute and she volunteers for the Miniature Schnauzer Rescue, which I think is pretty cool.)

At the time of writing this post, I haven’t heard back from ER girl. I’m not sure that I even will, given her history of communication. I don’t know, do you all think I over reacted? Do I need more patience than that? Or, should I stick to my standards of basic courtesy? LK sure didn’t seem to have a problem with these kinds of things. Even my ex-wife managed this much, at least when we were dating. It doesn’t seem like so much to ask to me.

Surely this qualifies as Friday Fun…

I subscribe to TechRepublic to try and keep up with the latest tools and trends in IT. They track everything from how well the SCO lawsuit is doing to the latest Linux management tools. But, this week, the sent an e-mail that included a link to a rather special graphics gallery.
The really cool images there were generated by a program called Apophysis, which can be downloaded for free at Apophysis.org. I did that and, in longer than it took to type this e-mail, generated the fractals you see in this post. Now, before you all get too impressed, with my work, keep in mind these were done with the default fractal calculations built into the program.

I’m still looking for more and better fractal functions to use with this, but I thought the standard stuff was worth sharing.

Certainly, it was worth a Friday Fun Link, right?

Yeah, that must be it.

Sun spots are interfering with her phone. That’s why she didn’t answer when we prearranged the call and time and everything. Or, maybe, she’s on the way to the emergency room with her friend again. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Say, ladies, that’s not code for fantasizing about the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy or something, is it? Well, whatever. Maybe I’ll meet someone tomorrow night at my buddy’s birthday party. Or not. You know, there are just too many potential posts in all this that I just don’t even know which way to turn with it. Maybe Saturday or Sunday, I’ll write something more. Maybe I’ll have a better story than the emergency room by then.

Oy! I’m about ready to give up!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"A desk is a dangerous place from which to view the world."
   --John le Carre

So, the ER girl from Match called.

Apparently, we’re still on for lunch this coming weekend.  Now, all I have to do is find a decent restaurant between Jersey Village and, roughly, Highway 6 and Westheimer.

You’re got until about this time tomorrow night to make suggestions.  I’ve been instructed not to call during Grey’s Anantomy, so I have until it’s over to pick a place.

“… Nothing stays still.”
– Heraclitus

I’m in between and I can feel it.
I’m like that guy who’s read one too many books on sleight of hand and stage magic that can see the trick happening on stage and know how it’s done, even if he can’t quite manage the trick himself. I’m not the man behind the curtain, but I can see his shoes poking out from back stage. I can see the gears that drive the smoke and mirrors of my life.

Neither “here” nor “there”, wherever those two mythical places may be. And, as always when I feel dislodged this way, adrift between destinations, every movie on cable features a prominent character smoking. Closing his eyes and drawing in the grey, cloudy poison that cuts the edge and smooths the rough spots and fills the time while we wait. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for anymore, just perched, ready for flight. Ready to go where the wind takes me, just as soon as the still, thick Houston air stirs with any kind of a breeze that might ruffle my feathers and give me the urge to leap.

Change is all around me.
I have a friend who’s announced that he’s planning on getting married. He and I are the same age, give or take two months. He’s never been married before, and I’m trying so hard to embrace his hope and innocent vigor. I don’t want to taint his wonderful news and hopeful energy with my dark cynicism and poor choices when it comes to marriage. He’s picked a wonderful girl, who suits him so well, and I’m sure, so sure, that they’ll make it. They’ll be the other fifty percent. The half that don’t end up with hard words and court dates and cold, silent stares that end in long walks with cigarettes.
They just have to make it.

I know another guy who’s on the way down and out.
I did what I could to help him, which wasn’t much. Of course, now, I wonder if I really helped at all or just prolonged the inevitable outcome of choices he made long before he met me. But, I fought to counter my darker half and tried to believe in the best of him, only to watch him slip away behind a curtain of cigarette haze and an ocean of amber. Nothing I could do, but cut the line and let him sail his own course, out to sea in the storm. And, now, I lose sight of him, while I stay in safer waters, my surface calm like a sheltered marina harbor. Nothing more I could do, so I go below deck and try not to think about the glowing tip of the cigarette and what it all means.

No, I don’t know what any of it means, except that I can see the changes starting to happen. Something new is coming. Something I haven’t seen before. Something I cannot know because I have never known it. New territory, freshly discovered and entirely unexplored.
With no native guides, how will I chart my way?