While breaking computers for their own good, I caught the end of BSG again as Tanya was watching it. It is emotional, but there is one particular scene that tears me up. And I wonder because of that how much more is conveyed through emotion. Like “a picture tells a thousand words” so does empathy(?).

Finally finding closure with M made a lot clear in ways that are too significant for me to verbally articulate. Like being told a life lesson when you’re young and it making sense alright but it isn’t completely clear and appreciated until you’ve experienced it.

I consider A’s comments about justification in hindsight of our actions, comparing April with January. It’s interesting to face a very similar choice in both circumstances but find that much has changed. I feel like I “should” stamp all of this in some standard way, like fingering immaturity or fear, pointing out others failures or victimizing myself. I’m tempted to say something about “the way I am,” and I catch myself. Is emotional the way I am? I can’t reconcile that, in that way. It’s clear that my words are a fucking burden. Perhaps that was the catalyst for aforementioned mystical clarity.

As I sit and consider the judgements made, I try to remove myself from the situation. Not to be logical and devoid of emotional influence, but to be fair and limit the bias. The accusations? Maybe. Something made me engage the same escape techniques I use in meetings, that I use when bailing out of a situation that I’ve given the opportunity to prove my suspicions wrong and it’s sliding right where I expected it to. I don’t feel like it’s throwing my hands up, there’s no frustration. I’m reminded of sitting on a ledge on Double-top Mountain in Baxter State Park, some ten years ago or so, thinking about the insignificance of… baggage? life’s troubles?

The meeting analogy is interesting, thinking about the compromises and movements I make to satisfy someone when we’re simply not able to communicate on the same level. Focusing on what it is they want, what they’re trying to achieve. This is an empathy skill? A tech support skill? Is this the same thing that creates all those large recipient emails I write that garner “well said” responses? Is this a product of many hours thinking about other’s passion? Hard to say. While my words being a burden has interesting implications, I can’t do anything more than remove myself. I discern the easiest way out, and walk away. Go sit on that ledge again. Not just away, on. It’s not sad, or unfortunate. It’s probably partly a product of making sure I had no regrets, of making myself vulnerable and offering that openness and repeatedly having it not be embraced. Trying wasn’t so I could tell anyone else that I did, it was so I know that I honestly and openly did the best I could at the time, and there was no interest in that.

And so today (friday) was the one year anniversary of the public release of Chef. There’s so much there I still wish I could share with M. Everything that I’m excited about that’s transpired; debian packages, ubuntu bugs, ruby code, essays, talks, implementation, soap boxes; why it all matters. Perhaps that part is a little sad, because I feel like I’ve lost part of that, like I’ve lost part of the excitement for that because of settling into a place, a classification if you will, that is the past and not the future. Maybe that was what changed, the realization that there is no future to that relationship… it won’t grow into anything. It will always be what once, for a short time, was.