{i love & hate you all[

We try not to hurt anyone. That’s the goal. At least, it has been stated as a goal. I heard it. I’ve said it.

We do what we feel we should in a way that we believe to be fair to everyone involved. We don’t want to hurt anyone. We say what we say and tell what we tell and give the glimpses that we are able. We don’t want to mislead. We don’t want to cause pain. We don’t want to cause strife.

But we just might.

This is what we have to come to grips with. The possibility that each thing we think we are doing to protect others may not be. That in our effort to not cause difficulty, we have caused pain instead. Even though our stated goal was to not hurt anyone. This is the choice we make with each action. With each decision. And it is ours to make.

But we don’t always see the other side. Our entire goal is to not hurt the other side, but because we are not on it, we don’t actually see it. We think we will do what we do and say what we say and act how we act in an effort to cause no pain. But we have not been them. At least, not today.

So we guess.

At our best, we are able to put ourselves in their shoes and act in the way that we would then want. But there are other times when we cannot. We simply do not have the experience required to put ourselves in their shoes. We do not know how we should act because we are incapable of understanding their motives and desires. We cannot know how they will or do feel because we have not or do not feel it. We cannot know how they will or even might react because we have not walked their walk. We think we do. We allow reason to provide us with answers. But that is a lie. That is our fallacy. It is our pride stepping in to say that we know what we do not know. This is especially arrogant because sometimes, not always, but sometimes…

Sometimes we could simply ask.

~ Christopher]

It began last night as reply to a simple tweet. After awhile, a couple of friends had jumped in and tweets were flying back and forth, all in good fun. And then things were kicked into the next gear. An email was received saying one friend had been tagged in a Facebook post by another. I suppose twitter’s character limit just got to… limiting.

Over the next couple of hours, there were over 200 comments across 3 profiles by 6 friends. Comments were coming in as fast as you could refresh the pages, each funnier than the last. It was an excellent evening among friends. Friends who are separated in some cases by other a thousand miles. Friends who live in 4 cities across 3 states.

It was as close as these friends were going to get under normal circumstances. And it was all spontaneous because the infrastructure was already there to support it. No one had to set up a meeting time for a conference call. No one had travel. No one had to think about it. No one had to contact the others to say “hey, get on facebook!”. No, Facebook just emailed whoever was tagged in the initial post. GNotify notified whoever wasn’t logged into their email account. Or maybe the email was pushed to their smart phone.

This is the true power of the internet. Sure, you can get up to the second data or buy the latest junk while in your pajamas or read the news from a foreign newspaper. But bringing people together is what it is all about. This is why I work on the web. This is why I bury myself in technical specs and obsess over layouts at one in the morning. It is all about bringing friends, both old and new, together. The web is about giving people the ability to live better lives, to live happier lives.

Sometimes we just need to be reminded why it is we got into our chosen profession, whatever it is, and why we have decided to stay there. For me, this is it. If at the end of the day, people aren’t better off and happier than when they started, then I have not succeeded. So I will keep reading specs, and doing research, and experimenting with code into the depths of night, because this is what drives me.

Why do you do what you do?

~ Christopher]

We do it to ourselves, you know. We immediately want to blame someone else. It is so easy. Surely it is their fault. Their self-centered ways, their lack of giving a damn about how we feel, their assumptions that only account for themselves. We want to blame them. We do blame them?

It is ours though, your’s and mine. Our mistake. Our assumption. Our lack of action. Our demons. Our weakness. That weakness. You know the one. I certainly know mine. I can’t name it. I can’t place my finger on it without something being not quite correct. But I catch it’s eye. I look it in the eye, and I recognize what is mine. So I push it away. We push it away because we aren’t sure how to kill it. If you can’t name it, how do you remove its power? If you only know it in general terms, how do you use anything except general weapons?

So we do what we know. We push it away. I push it away. I don’t blame anyone else. My weakness is mine and I place it on no one else’s head.

And that used to be enough. Perhaps it still is for you. It is no longer for me. For now I know this thing has simply fallen back for the day and will be back for me later. Not soon, no. It will be months, perhaps years, but it will show up. It will try to hide as nothing, as it always has. But I will look it in the eye and know its purpose. It is an old dance we do. An ancient dance. I am tired of dancing. But I have always danced. Dancing is all I know, all that I know works. So I dance. You dance. We dance the dance that wins us the battle, but we have not won the war. We do not know how. I know you do not know how. If you did, you would not dance.

But you dance, and I dance with this thing I cannot name. I have tried, you understand… to stop the dance. To destroy what keeps coming back. But I have not. It returns less often. It returns with less effect. But the bottom line is that it returns. The bottom line is that it still ruins my day.

But my choices are my own. My failures and successes of my own device. And today, as I will do until I find a way to win, I chose again that thing that does not bring final resolution.

Today I chose to dance.

We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.
~ Kahlil Gibran

~ Christopher]

We try, don’t we? We come to this point, each of us in turn. We come and we try. We don’t know what we are or who we want or who wants us. We don’t know how we got here or how to get away. Honestly, we don’t even know where ‘here’ is. But we try. We try to get them to understand. We try to understand what they want. We try to understand who they think we are. What we should have done. Who we should have been.

And failing those… we try to run away.

But we don’t want to. And we aren’t sure. We scream at ourselves that the best course is to leave, to escape the pain, that we shouldn’t be here, can’t make this better, that we aren’t needed here… aren’t wanted here.

We just want to know. We want to feel alive. Want to feel wanted. Sometimes we think we are. We think we understand. Perhaps they understand. We try so hard, and yet… and yet here we are. Wanting to run away.

We get blind-sided one day. It could be nothing. It is probably nothing. We try so hard. We want things to be better. But then we don’t know. Maybe this is better? Or are we fooling ourselves? Is it just the same unimportant mess as it always has been? No.. it has never been unimportant. Everything we are is right there. Every part of us is right there. Right out in the open. Not for everyone. Not for anyone. But for them, it is right there.

But we fear. When there is nothing, we fear we screwed up. When there is something, we fear that we aren’t quite correct. But mostly, we fear when we don’t know. When there is nothing. We are blind-sided by the nothing.

So we try. We try as we have tried. We have left ourselves open. And once we don’t know what to do, when we don’t know what is. It is then that we try to run.

We don’t want to run… but we just might.

And woman, lovely woman! thou,
          My hope, my comforter, my all!
How cold must be my bosom now,
          When e'en thy smiles begin to pall!
Without a sigh I would resign
          This busy scene of splendid woe,
To make that calm contentment mine,
          Which virtue knows, or seems to know.

Fain would I fly the haunts of men--
          I seek to shun, not hate mankind;
My breast requires the sullen glen,
          Whose gloom may suit a darken'd mind.
Oh! that to me the wings were given
          Which bear the turtle to her nest!
Then would I cleave the vault of heaven,
          To flee away and be at rest.

Lord Byron

~ Christopher]

You were great out there today. I was never into baseball as a kid, lived too far away from people, but you play right field like you were born for it. Of course your uniform was a disaster before the 3rd inning. You don’t have to dive for every ball, you know. Your mom spent a lot of time getting that uniform to be white as the day it was new. Ha! Yeah, I don’t know why she bothers either. Great grab in the 5th. You should have seen the look on their coach’s face when you snagged that easy triple right out of the air. That hitter was built like a tank, but it didn’t even matter, did it? Power doesn’t mean anything if they can’t get on base.

Keep diving, son. Keep diving.

You were great out there today.

But running. Now running, that’s where your passion lies. You used to give your mom a fit time when you take off down the street. You just take off down the street and end up at some neighbor’s house blocks away like it was nothing. You know your mom has a whole network of spies amongst the neighbors, don’t you? Probably never crossed your mind that she would worry. You’re old enough to take care of yourself, after all. I know, I know. You had a birthday in December. Ten is certainly a mature age. Double digits even! But your mom always knows where you are. The neighbors for a mile in every direction know to call her if you show up unannounced. She loves you very much. I get texts almost every day during the summer detailing your travels while I am at work. I hear that Mrs Evans makes the best lemonade in the neighborhood. Guess that is why you frequent her home more than others. I know you wait until right before dinnertime to come back so you have an excuse to run all the way home. So much energy! So vibrant! You told me that Mr Andrews tells you to slow down every time you fly past his front porch, a flury of movement and joy that God has reserved for youth. Don’t worry about him. I’ll talk to him. He just wishes he still had that joy.

Keep running, son. Keep running.

Running my fingers over the Dec 9th, 1998 etched in the stone marker, I place the flowers I brought on the ground, and rise from kneeling.

I love you, son.

I turn and begin the endless journey back to my car.

~ Christopher]