Quantifying the immeasurable

This may wax mushy so skip past this if that's not your thing.

I spent a good long time on the phone with Tia this evening; two hours, to the second, to be precise. That should strike you as odd because neither of us talk much on the phone. Me, I'd rather chat in IM or in person, and Tia favors primarily the latter though the former will do.

As is typical with conversations between boys and girls, not so much of it is remembered. Though I do recall delving into such juicy issues as what God has been teaching us recently, Tia's lofty plans for the future, the startling beauty and simplicity of God's creation, and the dependence on faith of the effectiveness of God's work. A very rewarding conversation, including the gaps.

And as do boys and girls who have developed a very deep bond, we miss each other, a lot. Here's where it really gets interesting though. She expressed specific things about me that she missed, while I found myself unable to fully articulate my accompanying feelings. I, the linguaphile, meeting difficulty in vocalizing my impressions. Strange.

But I thought about it after I hung up and was puttering around, preparing lunch for tomorrow. What I miss about Tia are not necessarily any specific attributes. What I miss is the whole of Tia herself; I miss her physical presence in my life. The individual things are too numerous and/or subtle for me to elucidate. What I miss is the companionship and everything that came with it.

I've learned that men and women treat friendship differently, and I believe this distinction extends even into co-ed friendships. Most of this has come from discussion with my mother, who is always amazed that Alex and I never seem to know what's going on in our friends' lives, yet we remain steadfast in these friendships. Here is the difference as I see it: Men tend to bond on a level that runs deeper than language; the link extends not above, but below conscious appreciation. Men are friends simply because we are. Women, on the other hand, seem to define their friendships much more discreetly. They know what they like about each of their friends and why, and they can tell you if you ask them. (Please correct me if this is not the case) Perhaps it has to do with the more verbal nature of the female gender, or perhaps it hs more to do with a sixth sense men have about each other. I don't think it really matters, it's just the way God saw fit to design us.

And that's what makes it wonderful. Of course, in human interaction, there is no black and white, but everything is a mixture of poles. Therefore, the friendship between Tia and I (and probably all relationships like ours) is something of a hybrid. I can tell you many reasons why Tia is one of my best friends. So too, I'm sure she would tell you that she just likes being with me, no reason needed. Likewise we can talk for hours about everything or simply enjoy some activity together and never share a word. Both have happened many times.

I'm probably revealing way to much in a public setting, but it was an observation that refused to be stifled. Maybe it will prove constructive to someone. At the very least, this exposition changes absolutely nothing in my mind about the bond between Tia and I. Truly God has made this friendship, and do with it what he will now that we are separated by distance, I obtain joy to consider such threads He weaves into our lives. May it bring joy to you also as you consider your own friendships.

Et cetera: I've yet to write anything about my misadventures with the computer desk, hurdling my cousins into the water, the strange encounters at my front door, some ninja gaming, and why you really can't serve both God and money. Well, the Lord add his blessing to my musings and to you all. Over and out.

Try again, Kochese; make a turnip.

Single dwellers alert: Got two or three servings of spaghetti sauce you don't know what to do with? Buy a can of chili beans in medium sauce and simmer them together. Makes a darn good chili. But then, mom's recipie is pretty hearty to begin with, it ain't no marinara.

Following Kento's lead, I decided to head on down to the weight room, having excess calories to burn...ya know, since I use so many sitting at my desk all day. Although I noticed that, since the stairs are by the bathroom door and they're outdoor and each floor in my building is a good 20 feet tall, that it makes a nice blood churner to hike down them and back up at breakneck pace. Anyway, I made a full round of the complex workout room including a one mile run, a full upper and lower body workout, and more crunches than I care to remember. I will be wondering what possessed me to do this in a day or two. I went swimming on Tuesday though, and that was good. As I said to Joel, moving around isn't so bad once you get used to it.

Something occurred to me. In the week I've been living here, I have seen only two other tenants who are white. Everyone else is East Indian or Asian. The complex has like 900 units. And another thing I noticed. Every single Indian family has at least one small child. In fact every Indian family I've seen anywhere around here is carting one or more brats around. Is it some sort of law that they must be in possession of a toddler at all times? And what happens when the kids grow up? Do they skip their teenage years entirely? I've seen no Indian youth here, only children and parents. It's very odd.

My cubiecle at work is among the coldest in the building, I found out. Some of my coworkers, who sit several spaces away, were bringing down blankets and space heaters to work last winter. I also dress WAY too formally for this job, which I'm pleased about. I probably couldn't get away with wearing jeans and a T-shirt, so I'm off to the thrift store tomrrow to get me some polos and old dockers. Who knows, they may even let me get away with my baggy skaterish jeans. I suppose the worst they could do is chide me and tell me not to wear that anymore. So hopefully I can teeter as close to the normal clothing threshold as possible. We'll see.

Before I completely destroy my circadian rhythm, I shall leave. I've been getting up at 6. I feel so OLD doing that, but getting off work at 4:30 has its benefits. For those of you who have been praying for me, thanks. Everything's going smoothly, I have want of nothing, save furniture, and I'm currently saving up for that. It'll be ready by christmas when the folks come down, and indeed long before that. If you're gonna be in the bay area, look me up. My phone number will be changing soon, but I'll be darned if I'm gonna post it here. You'll just have to ask me yourself. Well, tata.

Comfort Food

So I though to myself, "I'll go broke if I keep eating out." And sure enough, I spent a lot of money this weekend. Geesh. It's very difficult starting out on your own, especially when you're the type of person who wants to get everything setup at the beginning. My apartment is still a shambles. Blech. That's what weekends are for I guess. But I digress.

I decided to cook myself something and settled on spaghetti. Of course, I don't have a recipie for the sauce so I gave mom a jingle. It was easy enough, and 10 bucks later I was on my way (plus other stuff I forgot I needed...blasted unexpected expenses!) I've already written about how smell is closely tied to memory. So it was comforting to have a familiar aroma fill my kitchen...assuages some of the aloneness. I'm not lonely, mind you, it takes quite a bit for me to get that way anymore, what with new friends at work and the internet (and phone if I need it).

It's even good to have the time to myself. Gives me a chance to do some much-needed introspection and talking with God. I was recently enlightened to a rather serious character flaw I had been exhibiting unknowingly so I've been praying like mad for God to change that about me. Unfortunately it's not something I can be proactive about. I guess I'll just have to be patient and vigilant...whoopdedoo. Praise God for trials, I suppose. Sooner or later I'll hafta change my attitude about that. Every corner you turn you realize you have to depend on God for yet another thing. Too bad it's so hard to let yourself be so weak.

Outside of the Box

At long last, here I am, my own apartment, my items scattered about the floor in quasi-disarray. But at least I'm here, all my stuff got here, and I have cable internet.

Moving in was actually pretty uneventful. I pulled into the lot about 10 minutes after the movers did. Woops. But they were looking for #507 instead of #307 and having much difficulty since there is no fifth floor here. The guys, Pete and George, leathery men about my father's age, sweatily hoofed the boxes and furniture off their truck, down the 30 foot walk, and up three flights of stairs into my apartment. After we verified all items, they unpacked everything in a flurry of cardboard and recycled paper, and having stowed it all in their truck (I kept a few boxes for myself), had me sign the paperwork and drove away. End of item one.

Naturally the refrigerator was completely empty as were all the cupboards, so I moseyed over to Safeway, which is in the U-Villagesque shopping center across the street. I had BahaFresh tacos for lunch then went inside. Before I left, I consulted mom to compile a grocery list, which ended up being quite long. So I paced to and fro throughout Safeway, edging closer to the 3:00 deadline when the cable guy was to come. The cart reached saturation just in time and I cashed out. $265 later I was on my way. Maybe $50 of it was spent on food. :-D A full trunk of groceries is quite a task when you have to haul all those plastic bags up 4 flights of stairs. I grabbed a large gym bag that I nabbed from mom and dad when I moved and filled it to the brim with groceries. It weighed an unholy ton but it sure went fast to carry them that way as I still had free hands to grab more bags! End of item two.

Returning to my car I happened on a mystery. I bought a 32 oz. bottle of wiper fluid concentrate and espied it sitting in its place in a plastic tub built into the trunk (specifically for such items), about 2/3 empty. That's not right, I only used 2 oz. to make the solution and only once. So pulling it out of the tub I was slightly mortified when a number of gooey drips slid off the bottom of the bottle. Quickly I emptied my trunk of its contents in search of the large, sticky puddle/mess that was surely inside. I scanned the entire trunk space, all the way down to the spare tire cavity and could not find any trace of concentrate. All I found was a small layer in the tub, which was easily cleaned up with napkins. Very strange indeed. I want to know who thought they needed to use 11 oz. of concentrate in their windshield fluid tank. Have fun unclogging the nozzles. End of item three.

Leo, the cable guy, arrived during this little diversion and snuck up to my front door while I was down in the parking garage. He called me and said he was here so I ok'd him and ran up to meet him. He wasn't there. I called him from my front door and he was in the parking garage. I love how that works. He got the cable up and running in a jiffy and even volunteered to do the setup on my computer because he could see I was computer savvy and didn't want to install their messy software which leaves little Comcast stains all over windows. There was a minor glitch because I had been using the connection at my parents' house for some time but he cleared that up after some holding on Comcast's line...the inside tech-only line. Let's hope I never need to call them for service if they make their techs wait for service. After that was cleared, up I was ready to go. End of item four.

Only I wasn't, because I found out I had a whole bunch of things to go buy that weren't groceries. After more consulting with mom, I charted a course for the nearest Wal-Mart discount store since it was likely to be cheaper than Bed, Bath, and Beyond, though less quality. This was a grave mistake. Let me tell you why.

Wal-Mart is located in Milpitas, and affects an entire quadrant of this enormous shopping center. They close at 9 and I rolled in about 7, eager to get in and out so I could cook dinner. Well it just so happened that the management must have summoned every single family in Santa Clara county with at least two sub-teen children or three cohabitating generations. I theorized that perhaps Wal-Mart simply produces them en mass. I guess somebody has to supply overweight, unhappy Americans. You might expect to see white trash. Aye, there was, but it didn't stop there. I saw Mexican trash, asian trash, Indian trash, and even a little black trash in that Wal-Mart discount store. It was truly a multi-racial trash effort. And so, skillfully navigating the maze of aisles, floes of shopping carts and seething throngs of cranky grandmothers, upset fat women, screaming children, and exasperated fathers, I collected my treasures. By the time I made it back to the checkout stands, the line for each was backed up all the way across the main aisle, rendering it impenetrable, and into the clothes racks opposite. I subsequently finagled a line that seemed shorter than the rest. I say "seemed" because in reality they were all long. This one because the checker was slow and there was some enormous Indian family with two carts full up at the register. Yadda yadda I made it to the door where an even SLOWER woman was checking off receipts. I tried to circumvent her but was stopped by a courteous pre-recorded voice announcing that I was a thief. Eventually the lady got to me and I got everything to my car. Then, in a fit of desperation, I plunged myself once more into the fray and ate dinner at the MacDonald's built into the store. I felt unhealthier, but satiated. Flinging myself from that accursed place for the last time, I drove home to the smooth sounds of Chevelle. End of item five.

Upon domestic re-entry I once more played Sherpa and replaced my new belongings into the apartment. I washed some dishes and here I am. Tomorrow my main task is to get things into a semi-permanent place. I can tell you about what I've been doing at work for the last two weeks next time. For now, though, I've written a book so you simply must abide in torturous uncertainty. I highly recommend it. Flagellating, Bryan. End of item six.

P.S. I have a new email address: beamer "eighty-one" (as a number) at comcast dot net. (Gotta guart against the spam webcrawlers.)

Disconnected

I am having serious internet withdrawls. I didn't realize how closely I kept up on my friends' lives until I no longer had regular access to the internet. The information age really has done away with time and space as now we can keep each other updated on our lives with the push of a button. But not me, at least not right now. I'm still stranded aside the information highway for a while. I can't move into my apartment until Friday (the 13th, my lucky day!) so I have one more week of isolation to endure.

A lot has happened in the past week. I wish I had time to expound on all of it but I simply don't. This weekend I'm spending with my cousin and her family in San Jose. Last weekend I stayed with my aunt and uncle in Auburn, CA (ENE of Sacramento). The first week of work has been pretty easy, mostly introductory things. They stuck me in the new-guy program right off so it won't be until thursday that I actually start work. Bonus: I get every other friday off, it's called the 9/80 schedule: 44 hrs the first week, 36 the 2nd. Nice. I've toured some places, learned buckets about LMSSC (the division of Lockheed Martin that I work for), and a bunch of stuff about space and satellite design. Good times.

I feel like I'm missing out on everyone. My best friend Tia has been having a rough go recently and I feel horrible that I haven't been able to talk with her, but it's a good training exercise for her (and myself) in seeking the Lord for true comfort. Still, it bothers me that I can't console and encourage her on a daily basis, she is one of the most important people in my life. Kento has also been having some difficulties and I'm just now finding out about it. Who else's life is taking twists and turns while my attention languishes in the daily routine?

I really am a child of the internet generation. I cannot fathom how people kept in touch before the days of instant messenging, email, and blogs. The phone? The number of conversations I've had on the phone that have exceeded two hours I can still count on my fingers. And what about before that? If you went away to war or college and returned, your friends would be completely different people. You could catch up, but that bond would have rusted. Maybe the mettle of a true friendship was better established in those days. But it raises a question: Have we become so impatient and nosy that we no longer have the ability to remember our friends? My thoughts have been strangely quiet regarding my loved ones, and even my prayers have begun to stagnate...I simply don't know what I should pray for about them. The distraction of a new job and a new place may be at work, but I've essentially abandoned entire sets of friends twice now: once when I moved to WA, and once when I graduated high school. I am determined not to let that happen again, as the friendships I made at UCU are some of the best I've ever had. But it's a handle I cannot grip; already it seems my memory is slipping away with an indefatigueable force. It scares me. It's not a question of clinging to the past; it's the undeniability of the present that drags me away from it against my will.

It feels so hopeless, Lord. Will these relationships that I've come to treasure disintegrate simply because distance has intervened? I pray not, but what can I do? If I place those relationships in your care, Lord, will they be preserved? It's impossible to tell from down here, and my field of view is so limited. Change is inevitable, but does it have to mean the obliteration of the past? Please preserve these connections that are so valueable to me, Lord. I'm scared and unwilling to leave them behind. I don't even know what I'm asking...I don't know what to ask. Maybe just patience and trust...I've never been a superstar at either.