Mostly Unhappy Stuff

So it's been something like 3.5 weeks since K. got her diagnosis. It was a bit shocking for both of us. At one point I told K. that I felt back for reacting to it more emotionally than she has, and she said it was in part because she was dealing with the problems caused instead. At first I found myself largely incapable of doing much else other than my work routine, which is why I cancelled my Saturday gaming 2.5 weeks back. It seemed like way too much (especially with a con going on that day). Then, a couple of weeks after her diagnosis I felt more capable ... but realized that I was constantly on the verge of emotional upheaval. Some little problem would come up (typically through work) and I was on the edge of not dealing. I think things are starting to come around from that, but I'll have to wait for the next small problem, I suppose.

I did run my Pathfinder game this recent Saturday, and it was good. Part of it was more open-ended, and I think everyone enjoyed working through what to do about a problem.

Unfortunately I've also recently been hit with some troublesome user-related issues, related to people that our staff has opted to kick off various services (very rightly from what I've seen). One of these users has responded by saying that he's going to try and drag *my* name through the mud all across the internet. Unless I fire some of our moderators, or have them moderate like he says, or something else that has no chance of occurring in a reality-based world. Yep, good times. Over the years, I've also been physically threatened, legally threatened, and had my house threatened because I have the audacity to sort of be in charge of a few online sites. So that's pretty much what humanity has come to in the internet age. I'm getting a little tired of it all. (And this is why we don't have nice things.)

To burn off my anger last night I decided to do a major bike ride of the sort I hadn't done previously on an evening after work. So I biked Tunnel Road all the way up to Grizzly Peak Blvd, then took that across to Claremont and back down. 10 miles; 1000 feet up and down or so. It was a nice ride that certainly burned all the emotional energy like I wanted to (at least at that moment). It was particularly cool when I was biking along Grizzly and suddenly the clouds/fog was barreling across the road. It was actually quite thick at some parts of the ride after that, and when I came back down to civilization, and it cleared, I felt like I'd returned to another world.

Meanwhile, construction started up again near our house at early-o-clock this morning. This time it seems to be some apartment buildings one house over from us. They've been renovating them for many months, and actually have a sign up now that says they're "renovat*ed*". But they were hammering and sawing early this morning, and when I passed by them today on the way to pick up some mail, it looked like they were *gutted*.

Over the last few weeks I've been looking at my to-be-read shelf of books that I recently cleaned and reorganized ... somewhat sadly because I haven't touched it since then. That's because I've been reading Toll the Hounds for a few weeks (900 pages in!) and my other attention has gone to library books. In any case, I'm really looking forward to digging into some of those excavated books soon.

Tonight: a play. We've been delaying those a bit since K's diagnosis hoping things will be better down the road, but this is the last Wednesday to see the Shotgun's current show ...

Sea of Reeds, by Josh Kornbluth

Went to see _Sea of Reeds_ today at the Shotgun Players. It was, quite simply, a brilliant play. Kornbluth is an incredibly charismatic orator, who kept me enthralled throughout the play. However, the writing was at least as good. It's a complex, multi-layered series of stories that Kornbluth dances in and out of, and along the way he says something meaningful about liminal moments of change.

The text is literally about Kornbluth making his own reed to play an oboe with, and about rediscovering Judaism and being bar mitzvahed at the age of 52, and about the Jews making their Exodus from Egypt across the Red Sea -- or if you believe Kornbluth's claim of a more proper translation, the Reed Sea. But it's about more than that, under the surface. It's about life and fear and change. It's all interconnected brilliantly and thoughtfully, as you think about the connection between blowing wind into the oboe and making a leap of faith to cross the Sea of Reeds, and how the result comes out messy and ... lifelike every time.

Well, well recommended for anyone interested in stories or Judaism or, really, life. Funny at times, but I was in tears by the end, not due to any sadness, but due to the rawness of the emotion and the truth of the writing. I think it's only showing for another week or so more, though, so get a move on.