A dry bike ride into work this morning.

> over a hundred hours of therapy has taught me that while it is very difficult, it is what it is.
> feelings are a funny thing to traipse through.

I made plans last night to be irresponsible and go hang out with R. Thus, it was ironic to get email from M this morning asking me to yield.

These two events have made this morning particularly crazy. Excited, cautious, anxious. The expected and the unexpected collide.

I need to email T back, and I’ve been pondering how long it feels it has been since I had a decent two-sided conversation. Probably since K and I dated?

Man, so many conversations to have, but they’re meaningful so they take so much energy.

100 ways to say I love you.

Go Modern
(76) Get rid of the old girlfriends from your social networking websites;
(77) from your cell phone;
(78) from your email address book

That crosses my mind now and then.

I was up too late last night
with the lights down low and a bottle by my side
wondering if you’d call me up to talk

I really don’t know how it’s all going to work out, but somehow I have faith it will, eventually, perhaps a bit late.

P: Act One, in which she pretends she doesn’t care about him.
P: Act Two, in which he pretends he doesn’t care… and goes right for her.
P: Act Three, in which it all plays out the way she planned it. She’ll eat him alive.
W: We’ve got to stop them.
P: Stop them? You were her excuse for coming here.

M said to let it go. And then, as if on cue, it knocked on the door, head in hands. I told M I was worried I didn’t care, and she said I obviously did because I was thinking and discussing the situation. There’s really far too much going on though, and I really may need to hide.

Dad used to say, “there are people that I like, [pause to catch his breath] but I don’t like people.” For an introvert, I like people, except, I think they wear on me. I think, as I get older, they wear on me even more. I feel like I have no spare energy for complicated conflict resolution. I’ve been wondering if there being an answer to “what are you going to do about it?” is a valid test. Accepting “think more about it,” as an answer makes it feel so. This feels makes me feel not quite alone, but, distant.

J had a lot to say about meaning. I was trying to place my indifference to how people live their lives and she thought the key was that the choices I make are meaningful to me in some way, and others choices are meaningful to them. Watching TV after work, or keeping a dead-end job have meaning as long as it is important for someone that they not be stressful or not feel they owe something, or other items of importance.

I’ve heard people who identify as introverts say clearly that they need time to recuperate from social interaction. I always go back to Caring for your introvert.

Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?

If so, do you tell this person he is “too serious,” or ask if he is okay? Regard him as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?

Oh that always makes me giggle and feel better.

Family often asks me what I think they should do with my father. I want to tell them to just do what he asks until he dies.

Is that wrong?

I had a bit of an argument with T the other day about It’s Kind of a Funny Story. She thought the movie trivialized the lives of mentally ill people in the course of providing an unrealistic plot device. I called bullshit, literally, then tried to find a way to explain myself. I still don’t know how to. I feel like there is a relationship here with being frustrated with the focus on anti-racism in some of my social groups lately and the us versus them mentality surrounding the Seattle PD lately. I usually joke that I’m an offensive man from a small town in the woods and somewhat kill the conversation. I don’t intend to kill it, but I give most people an out from there.

L told me recently that I was a conundrum. I forget her evidence, but none of it was a surprise. It was something like that being a flannel wearing bearded man who swaps transfer cases doesn’t fit with being an emotive blogger who volunteers a lot. M responded a bit to my inquiry about how she feels about fitting into the world, which excited me. There is some interesting confirmation in L calling me a conundrum and my conversation with M about being a round peg in a world of square holes.

I only recently remembered that I’m meeting J tomorrow instead of our usually Tuesday. Boo.

Work more.

Swapped the transfer case out in the GMC with the rebuild today. At some point soon I’ll put something together on aggregate to document this, however someone asked for a material list for the chicken coop on flickr today so perhaps I should do that write up as well. The transfer case swap has me thinking a lot. Of course, there’s the disappearance of M. I’m unconvinced she wants to hear from me at all, even if something is horribly wrong. Despite all that conversation with T about the people that get passes in our lives, I just, am unconvinced she cares.

Particularly, I’ve been comparing this transfer case job with the last. Around six years ago I had rebuilt the transfer case in the Chevy with some help from Matthew. At the time a number of folks were eager to help but like most of the opportunities I tried to give they wandered off eventually. M’s relationship with this swap is quite a bit different, but not entirely so. Promises, indication of interest, no follow through.

Mom and I had dinner with T and I urged her to get her drivers license. In my head I’ve been thinking a lot about responsibility. At the time, I was thinking about how getting your drivers licenses is one of those things you should do, but usually are pressured to. It reminds me of Dad saying that the key to taking advantage of opportunities is being prepared to take them.

What’s changed in six years? I’ve gone from a 1993 Chevy with around 80,000 miles (150k now I believe) to a 1997 GMC with 210,000 miles.Really, everything. Still. I thought about how so few people I know here know what a transfer case is, let alone what it would mean to swap one. Yet, I had confidence in doing the job. Partially because my automotive knowledge gives me a good idea of what it would be like, but also because I’ve done it before. When I thought about writing about the job, I got thinking about mechanics that do this every day, and how it isn’t a particularly special thing. Then again, I doubt I know anyone here who has swapped a transfer case before.

I spent eight hours out in the cold today doing the work alone, except asking one of my roommates to run one of the jacks as I extracted and replaced the transfer case from the under-body. Last time, I spent most of it alone, although I had great help (mentorship?) from Matthew. That’s what struck me. I tend to think people aren’t doing anything, but I’ve also managed the last couple of years to fill my life with people who are. So what’s missing, why was I doing this alone? Or why did I spend three days alone on a mountain last weekend? Or take two dirt bike trips alone the weekend before? At least half of it is finding people who really want to do these things and will follow through. I wonder how much is preference.

Mom proposed I may want to wait until it was warmer to do the work, but I was committed and didn’t want to put it off. I said to her that I had done much worse and I was reminded of installing a block heater on the P30. It was in New York, in the parking lot of a motel, in real snow. It was cold to begin with, but I had to flush most of the coolant to add the block heater, so it was wet and colder. The situational conditions didn’t provide much comfort either. I had to take a taxi to an auto parts store to get a battery charger and the parts.

Anyway. I’m excited to not fit and be alone right now. Weird.

Look what arrived. Woooooot. I guess I know what I’m doing on Saturday. I had plans to rebuild the transfer case on the GMC with L1, but she’s been relatively flaky, and she was extremely flaky to being with. Thus getting a rebuild and swapping it myself. I hiked Mount Si last night in the snow with L2, which was absurd but fun. This also meant we had a lot of time to talk, and was interesting to boot. Somehow Friday is nearly here. I wanted to do the FHR this weekend, but I’m oncall for ARC. I could have found someone to cover, but there’s an AA work party, and I’ve got to work on the truck, and, and. and. Anyway. Off we go.

To love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person.

Fromm, from The Art of Loving. I stumble across some notes, while waking up. I’m working from home today because some contractors are coming by to do some measuring on the house.

What a strange twenty-four hours.

I’ve had a lot on my mind, which made for an interesting hour with J. Surprisingly that was preceded by lunch with K where we talked mostly about businesses and organization. I spent the afternoon sitting in the surgery waiting room with my mother waiting for my stepfather to get out of back surgery. Dinner. Then I got incredible frustrated with one of my volunteer organizations, so I turned to distracting myself with comfort movies. Next thing I know, it’s the middle of the night. A sudden bout of facebook heckling came up, which spurned a couple serious conversations. And then there is the other thing.

Today is going to be long. I’m going to brew coffee.