I think reusing the same random post titles is a sign of old age.

Back in the office to fix an implosion and get some off-hours cleaning up done to my satisfaction. Blasting Bryan Adams, singing along like my usual eff-tard self, migrating Virtual Server guests to KVM.

I’m generally pretty okay with the way I feel, I don’t really need to be told it’s okay. I think sometimes I need to be told it’s okay with others that I feel the way I do, because I’m not so sure about them. Those others. They.

I have had a few constructive comments saying that missing L is because I’m thinking about her. It’s an interesting chicken or the egg perspective. It was certainly easier to miss her when I knew I’d get to see her again when the best I can hope for now is that I’m not too upset when I do see her. I certainly was thinking about her often, and if I am now, it’s not usually an active choice. I’m pretty sure choosing to think about the past is just going to upset me and not provide me with a whole lot moving forward. So it’s an interesting implication that I miss her because I’m thinking about her, because I have to then ask what part of me is thinking about her? Oh, well, the part that got attached to her personality and company I suppose. That’s getting pretty ethereal.

I once said this was a terrible idea. I stand by that. Obviously. All my indulgent ramblings and emotional outpourings haven’t really changed my values, maybe a little, but mostly it’s something else. But, it doesn’t really matter, this wasn’t really a situation where my thoughts mattered as to it’s course. Which is fine, and reasonable, and I get it. I still feel bad/sad/upset/etc about it and like I said, I’m pretty okay with feeling that way.

Fucking Right.

Go read the accompanying post. I keep trying to explain to folks about how I feel simple interaction and bonds are so vitally important, which is why breaking up is so very hard for me. If you don’t see this, you’re missing the point.

I was going to stop by your party but then Jack decided to paint the floor with his dirty diaper.

Win.

Also, techie bike hippie kids drink a lot, news at 11.

I’m getting a lot of hair. Also, I <3 bikes. Talking to Tori this morning we recalled J saying that “Love me till my heart stops” would make an excellent tattoo. Yes, it would. Thanks for being awesome guys. Like my favorite a softer world comic.

Tori and I rode the tandem up to Stellar to see M. M and coworker were going over to FBK for a show, so Tori and I conjured up a plan to go back to the house and put the keg in a bike trailer. Upon arrival at FBK we found J and J on the porch and joined them. J had apparently been talking about how they should come over to our house. I can’t really convey the awesomeness of all of this. How funny it was, and how much I needed it.

It was tough times all around, there was “wants more space” and “wants to see other people” so I added “doesn’t have time for me” to the deck and we talked for a while about how hard it is liking people. M and coworker disappeared into the show, and some others came and went from the porch (including apparently, awkwardly, one other), upon whom we forced free beer. Chris showed up after a bit too. Somehow we ran into J, who profusely apologized for missing our party and explained he and a friend had recently been dumped and went on a drug bender instead. Eventually Dookie showed up, being sort of himself, and after chatting with him for a minute I organized our team to head back to my house.

And we sat, bullshiting in the living room, J, J, and I continuing to bond over the difficulties of having feelings and falling in love. J had a tattoo of a “Falling Rocks” road sign with “in love” gratified into the space between that made it for me. On a day of insensitivity and having my feelings that felt left outside on a rainy night to begin with, further trivialized from afar, it was awesome to end it with like hearts, even if we were all sad. It was great having people I genuinely like also be people who love and lose and have no idea what to do about it.

S IM’d me a while ago, asking if folks needed to be worried about me. I’m not sure if I mentioned this, and this laptop is currently too slow to go and look. I know I’m hinting about this subject a lot, but I can’t emphasize the importance of having people respond to me in ways like this that are above the bar of marginalizing my feelings. I don’t really put thought into people reading any of this, but I know there are folks out there that do, especially when gossip goes around with the likes of “Guess what I read about Bryan on his journal!”

So I did get an email this morning from P, which I appreciate. Some clips,

Please don’t use the bar to drown your feelings or escape. You have far too much family history to go down that road.

I doubt greatly that L will continue to be a large part of your life. Picture your life happy without her. It will be. I can be.

L was very special to you. Please, don’t make her into your religion where your memories inflate the reality of her. You may have to consciously continue to change your thoughts. Everything reminds you of her because she is foremost in your thoughts. Distraction is a good thing.

I know that you are hurting. I don’t offer any of this lightly. Nor am I trying to minimize any of your feelings for L. I just hate to see you continuing to gnaw on the bone that has lost its marrow. Remember all that you have in your life. It is good.

Somehow lately my journal’s been more trouble than good, insofar as there’s more people talking to each other about what I write about than to me. I have to chuckle at that, I’d like to believe they’re just to shy, or have nothing particularly constructive to say. The latter is sort of cancelled out by the reality of folks having something to say, just not constructive, and just not to me. My brain can’t really come up with a reasonable alternative code in which to write, as cryptography requires more technical than emotional comprehension. Someone needs to come up with the ROT13 of the heart.

From a friend’s (acquaintance?) journal, “I’m a below average swimmer, and water’s tried to kill me a good number of times in the past”.

The float planes on lake union remind me of flying over Shin Pond when I was young. It was impossible to not think about the water looking like land, and the plane was so rough, even your breathing would shake. I think of the photo of 4345M on my wall and miss her. This conjures up good memories of the L shaped camp, dad, mom and me.

54, 6, 67, 9, 61, … Meh.

This reminds me of L, like breathing. Water and breathing… It’s impossible to avoid what reminds me of L. I wish all of these memories didn’t fall into missing her. There’s a bar in Georgetown with my name on it right now.

“People only see what they want.” Thought terminating cliché, or excessive summarization of basic tendencies?

This means more to me than my [lack of] skills can portray. Maybe it’s the sun that makes it feel like fifth grade. Probably the lack of definition. That place brings me memories of wonderful heart skipping a beat feelings. Being there was nice, coming home was still upsetting.

Most bizarre accosting ever:

Security Guard: You know, this is Coast Guard property
Bryan: I’ll be out of here in a minute, I’m just painting.
S: You’re what?
B: Painting.
S: Oh, you’re the artist
B: Well, I guess I’m an artist [confused]
S: You’re painting the container yard?
B: Yeah.
S: Yeah, we’ve seen you on the cameras.
B: Uh, ok. Well, I’ll be out of here in a minute anyhow.

Gossip about L and I finally made enough rounds that it got back to me. Inevitable, but, upsetting. It would have been nice if it could have waiting longer, perhaps when it would be less upsetting. I know, who knows when that is.

Chalk up another semi-productive day of figuring out how to do things the internet doesn’t know how to do. I’m getting less bothered about flaking out on my class and feeling failurish there by being successful in the open source world, and with my hobbies. Some of my debian packages are showing up in Ubuntu karmic with the sync starting up. This is nice because this was the original goal. Still having problems finding/keeping a reliable sponsor, still trying to find someone I know to leverage social connections.

I’m headed out now to get away from everyone [on the internet] and go chill among the containers, visit a memory, and see how it makes me feel when I sit with it.

I love that I’m able to help bring events like this together. This is what I live for.

22:58 <@malouin> Ry: Story of the wreath
22:58 <@malouin> Dec 2008: it snows, Trader Joes throws the wreath in the dumpster.
22:59 <@malouin> Me and some math nerds hike to the top of the hill past people skiing down to get hella frozen meat out of the dumpster and take the wreath back on a giant REI backpack
23:00 <@malouin> Dec 2008-Feb 2009: wreath hangs on my door until it becomes crispy
23:00 <@malouin> Mar 2009: I get the idea that it would be fun to burn
23:01 <@malouin> May 9, 2009 8 PM: I bring the wreath down to my studio for the art attack thinking that there’s going to be a fire, but the fire people are out late on a job, so I throw the wreath away.
23:02 <@malouin> May 9, 2009 9 PM: I arrive at btm’s birthday party to discover that there is a fire there, so I call colin and tell him that there’s a wreath waiting in the dumpster, so he brings it by bike trailer.
23:03 <@malouin> May 9, 2009, 11 PM: the wreath is immolated in front of a bunch of hackers and bike kids.

Back to listening to Dido. M once accused me of being sexist because I like most female vocalists. Funny girl. I need reminders right now that I’m not alone.

It’s a good things I have so many hobbies to keep my mind distracted. When it’s allowed to, my heart gets a hold of it. Under normal circumstances the worst of this is a bit of romanticising about crushes I probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to admit to. This kind of got me through a lot of life.

I cut and welded the feet back on a city bike rack that had gotten flattened by a truck today. It’s a little short and silly, but usable until they replace it. Everyone seemed to be sure I was up to no good, but nobody approached me and the police never showed up at my door. I gave painting a try, I think I’ll do more of it. And I got most of the platform built for the trailer today. Pretty product-full day in a number of different areas.

I cleaned up my room up a bit today to have some space with natural light to paint and put my old backpack in the closet. It contains my old journal, mostly prior to writing online. I laughed thinking about how everyone knew I liked K, but a couple at most knew I liked M, and remembering writing in my journal with a fear that some day someone would find out how much I liked M and be jealous.

I left those fears behind a while ago. When I compare that to L, I have no feelings of my own to hide, but everyone else’s to protect. Which one is worse? One must of course ask, “for whom?”

The trials of putting M behind me were benefited by there being hypocritcal behavior to be discovered once I peeked beyond my feelings. There are still feelings there, I’ve walked away from them. They say moved on, but tend to leave out the reality that you always live with those feelings.

Every heart wrenching experience in life seems to rewire us. Supposedly we get independent and cynical. Are the strong independence of my mind and the love of my heart destined to be forever odd and misplaced? I can believe folks can be however they are, or want to be. I’ve never been one to argue with someone about how they say they are.

Pondering how to put L behind me hurts. Like I’m stabbing myself hurts.

I check my email and phone multiple times a day, breifly hoping for contact from L deciding having me in her life is better than not. My head knows her heart works differently than mine, and it’s not likely. I feel with my heart, and it’s an innocent little fella who tends to keep on believing in people and love. I’m totally a romantic insofar as I believe love will perservere in the end.

Time. Sure. Fine. But ya know, it’s not that I don’t want to think about L anymore, I just don’t want to feel hurt when I do. Pfft.

In retrospect, I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever felt understood when it comes to matters of my heart. I feel more like there were times when I was happy enough to not think about it. It really means well, more than the rest of me for sure, it just seems to get the short end of the stick a lot.