Introspect

Stardate -- 313356.96.  Your mission:  Drive to Mammoth Mountain Resort and assist in setting up a WatchGuard demo, then continue the drive to Los Angeles.

So, I start this day at 4 a.m, waking up, packing up, and getting on the road by 5.  I needed to be in Mammoth by 11 a.m., but since it had stormed the night before, I wasn't sure of road closures or delays, so I left a couple of hours early.

Who, in their right mind, thinks that the ongoing conflict in Iraq is a good idea?  What, exactly, is it solving?  One friend stated, "for every soldier we lose, they lose three."  Why is that acceptable?  What makes us think that killing jihadist fundamentalists is somehow helping our country to become more "secure?"  What are we willing to trade for this false sense of security?  What makes us think that we have control of it in any way, shape, or form?

I ask these questions because, very recently, I have seen someone who is close to us have their life completely changed by this war.  No, he isn't dead.  But he is changed, and it is breaking her heart.  She weeps, and Teresa and I sorrow for her.

No, it isn't "entirely" the war's fault.  I, of all people, know that you can chose to break the pattern and be purposeful in your living and choose right, no matter how hard.  But I also know that things would have been much easier without the negative influences. I know that not everyone feels they can make that choice, or even see it as a choice to be made.  That doesn't negate the existence of the choice.  I also know that there can be, and likely are, many other factors.  But I also KNOW that no man can endure 1+ year of conflict, aggression, and loss if life without being significantly changed.  Rarely for the better...

She is devoted to him and loves him deeply.  She is a beautiful person (not perfect, but who is?).  He is rejecting her and wants to live his own life without her around.  If he ever reads this, he needs to know that he is making a mistake that will be a lifelong regret.  If she ever reads this, I hope she knows that she isn't broken as a person because of his current attitude.  And that the story isn't over...it's dark now, but while breath can be drawn, there is hope.  They can make it alright, if they both work at it.  But he has to change how he is seeing this.  He is rejecting a godly wife and loving woman.  That is a fool's path, and anything that he tells himself to justify his action is piling lies on top of foolishness.  I may sound harsh, but it's because, in part, I know what he's doing and that he really does have a shot at making this better, if he grows up and acts like a man.  He just needs to think longer than right now and be willing to swallow his pride.

I may be completely wrong about him.  I hope and pray that I am, because there's a better shot of it working out if I am wrong.  But I don't think I am.

And I know that his time spent in conflict has much to do with how he is making choices right now, and how he sees the world in general.

Go back to her.  She needs you and wants you and loves you, and you can have an amazing life with her.  Go back.  Do the hard thing, because the hard thing is always worth it.  Always.

So...about Brandon and Chad.

I don't think you could find three guys with more different backgrounds.  I always viewed Brandon as "rich."  You see, rich and poor made a big difference to me when I was a kid.  We always had very little, and, at school (especially in Jr. High), i really felt the difference between the haves and have-nots.  Anyway, i thought Brandon was rich because he lived in town and wore nice clothes.  Chad and I had more in common, economy-wise, but I still felt that he had more than me.  Anyway, it had a bearing on who I thought I could be friends with.  As it turns out, and lucky for me, those guys could really have cared less.

Brandon was the smartest guy in school.  He may not say so now, but I know that he was.  chad and I weren't fools, but I don't think we were as smart as Brandon.  At least, I wasn't (and probably still not).

The friendship formed slowly over time.  In fact, I can't exactly remember when it started.  I know we shared some classes together...and Brandon and I were on the track team.  Brandon also played football, but i was too shrimpy to play football or basketball.  Anyway, it started by us meeting in the morning before classes and playing cards in the library.  We would play spades, hearts, pinochle, or bridge.  I KNOW.  Three high school guys in the school library playing bridge.  Girls were throwing theirselves at our feet.  The coolest time, though, was when the three of us would go over to the Shaw's on Sunday afternoon to play pong and Nintendo.  I remember Chad and I working out the sequence to beat every character in Mike Tyson's Super Punch-Out.  Remember, this was before Al Gore invented the Internet, so we couldn't exactly Google it.  I remember losing every game of ping pong to Mr. Shaw that I ever played.  I don't know that any of us ever beat him.  I remember shooting baskets in the backyard with the two Shaw boys.  Everything was down in the basement, and we would just show up, go downstairs, and pretty much take over.

This was all during our sophomore and junior years.  I had alot of family drama towards the end of our junior year.  Funny thing, I don't remember the major stuff...I remember conversational snippets and particular events very clearly, but I can't string them together into any cohesive timeline.   The mind does funny things to defend itself.  Because of the drama, our friendship changed, especially in our senior year.  Plus, I got a serious girlfriend (at least, I thought it was serious).  So you know how that goes.

Chad and I would also go out with a group of guys and get into various bits of trouble.  Patrick, Steven, Marshall, Eric...just to name a handful.  We would go bowling, or go buy toilet paper, saran wrap, and shaving cream to torture the guy who couldn't hang with us that night.  Or the pretty girl of choice...it didn't matter.  We would go to Patrick's house alot cause they had a pool table, and his dad would turn a blind eye to our shenanigans.

There's more, but I have a hard time dis-entwining it from my bad/lost family memories.

Okay, time to jump back into the way-back machine and come back to the present.

Not sure what category to put this under..Religion? Geeking Out? Introspect? I think it's some of all of those.

If God Wrote Code..

• It would be bug-free. No patches, no service packs.
• 1.0, which means that one release would have every feature required. And, as new requirements were found, the software would already have this feature implemented.
• User Interface. The software would work the right way and feel the right way, regardless of the user.
• Everything. Regardless of the application, the software would solve the problem.
• Adaptive. My install and your install might be very different, because the software would know us, know what the requirements are, and install itself according. It would also change with us. And change us over time to be more like Him.
• We don't have to use it. But using it makes us better.

Flying home today. w00t! I have to pass through airports, which aren't any fun (I've covered this already), but the passage back home is always more pleasant than the departure away.

Having spent six years in the Navy, I am familiar with the feelings of departure and arrival. The difference is, obviously, scale. When I fly on business, it is short and the time spent during these phases of travel brief; the pace frenetic. Leaving port is an entireley different ordeal. It takes several hours to prepare a ship for departure. During that time, while busy, my mind had the opportunity to experience departure very deeply. Securing my workspace for sea; securing my berthing area; locking away valuables; reporting to the fantail to join the crew on line 6 to prepare for departure. Stories are swapped and sailors laugh and skylark. Loosing the 6 inch line that is extending the shore to your ship. Making that disconnection always feels like a ragged cut has severed you from you, and the person that you are on shore is standing on the pier watching the sailor depart. The sailor at sea has taken over. I watch as the pier slips away behind us, thinking of Teresa, and home, and friends on shore; holding on to that shore-person as long as I can. As I become a sailor, I laugh and cut-up with the rest of the crew, getting my job done and watching those familiar Bay landmarks shrink and disappear in our wake. Inside, I mourn the loss of home, knowing that it won't be seen again for two weeks, 2 months, or 6 months...each timeframe different but each departure filling the same time-space, creating the same feelings. The shore-sickness is a sea unto itself, shifting and rolling underneath the surface of the sailor, masked by bravado and humor. It's always there, always part of the sailor. The return home is an acknowledgment of this sickness and it allows us to dive into that character again, daydreaming about the first day home, the sights and smells and sounds of shore, as different from sea-life as dark is from light. The anticipation lasts a day or two, or a week, or even a month. Each day closer brings you back to you, merging the lubber and the sailor until the two have met again, the line tossed on shore and made fast, the gangway lowered and liberty called. Teresa hated me leaving and hated me coming home. Leaving hurt too much and she had to buffer herself against that pain and loss. While the shore-person inside of me might have stayed, she received no benefit from his presence. And when I came home she had to adjust to my physical presence, which is always different than the mind-presence of a person you miss. Plus, I smelled like the ship. She hated the Navy, and with good reason. I hated it then, but hate it less as time separates the sailor from the shore-person that I am now. It is times like this, times spent in airport chairs eating airport food, that I catch glimpses of the sailor I was and experience again those feelings of loss and gain. It is a brief encounter, but one that makes me remember that gulf and appreciate the life that is being lived now.

I was going to write some stuff about this weekend, but I'll let this post stand on its own. More later.