President's Day weekend marks my one year anniversary. It's been one year since I stopped drinking.
Oops. That's not me. Sorry.
But it's been one year since I lost the love of my life.
Well, he's not exactly lost. I know where he is. And maybe he's not really the love of my life either. Boo holds the official title. When I'm drunk, my little brother shares the title. But that's only because I used to change his diapers. Apparently, changing one's diapers or emptying one's litter box will make you love them like no other.
But it is true that it's been one year.
One year since the break up of a perfect relationship.
Of course you need to disregard a few things if you want to actually see the inherent perfection.
Just disregard the fact that we were living in opposite directions. Disregard that he preferred to be alone. Just ignore the fact that he shoveled snow while it was falling even though I prefer to wait for the final snowflake before beginning to shovel.
But for those couple of things, it was ideal.
But it has indeed been a year and life's pretty good despite the trauma. In fact, life's been somewhat interesting. I've tried lots of things I hadn't been into for a long time.
Like staying up past ten o'clock.
Like eating something besides cereal for dinner.
Like going out to a place where you don't have to say how many inches you want. In your sub, of course.
Yeah, it's been interesting. Sometimes it's been fun. Sometimes it's felt a little decadent.
And none of it has changed who I am.
In taking stock, I realized that whether I have cereal or haute cuisine, I'm still basically the same idiot. I still refuse to buy toilet paper at Giant if I know it's on sale at Safeway. I still prefer falling asleep on the sofa to walking my fat ass to the bedroom. And I'll always have a challenge when it comes to waking up in the morning.
I'm not saying I'm not open to change. I'm just saying that certain fundamental things are now confirmed fundamental.
It's partly comforting and partly unsettling. I honestly thought I was more flexible.
And so it was that a year ago, I began dating different kinds of guys.
Feeling liberated from the burden of a nearly-perfect relationship, I threw caution to the wind and explored the wild world of other people. I was really living on the edge. I went to restaurants that use cloth tablecloths. I went out to hear live music and came home smelling like an ashtray. I even ventured beyond the gates of Starbucks to coffee shops that call a large a large.
It was a crazy time, man.
And one year later, I realize it was just an act.
I kinda knew it a few months ago, but I didn't want to believe it. I was fighting my own stigma.
Until this past week.
It happened on a weeknight. I won't say which.
And there was another person involved. I won't say who.
And there was a problem with a website...I won't say what.
But the other person on the phone and I...well, let's just say we engaged in what might be characterized as a pretty hot and heavy couple of hours of phone code.
That's right.
He did it on his end. I did it on my end. We both stayed on the phone the whole time.
"Is there a way to make it check for more then one BR per bracket set?"
"The thing to remember about Perl's regexp is that it's inherently greedy in nature. It'll try to grab the largest match rather than the smallest match. That's why you're seeing only the last tag getting replaced, because the first (.+) in the regexp matches everything up to the last BR tag, including all the preceding BR tags. One solution is to override the greedy matching by using ? in the regexp. "
"Okay, I'm using ? in the regexp now."
"Oh, baby."
"Now I'm refreshing the page."
"Oh, baby...don't stop!"
After months of wining, dining, dancing and otherwise experimenting with a normal social life, I had the biggest orgasm of my life while fixing web pages with a stranger via the telephone.
Okay, he wasn't a stranger.
And of course it was a completely intellectual orgasm.
But since that night, I've been craving more phone coding.
Guys look at me on the street and I think "sure, you could probably get me going in all the usual ways, but can you phone code, big boy?"
A year ago I thought it was easy.
Just find somebody cute who negates all the cons.
Somebody who's living in the same direction. Somebody who wants to be with people instead of alone. Somebody who shovels snow after it falls.
A year ago, I thought I should be flexible and try new things.
And one year later I'm jonesing for a good session of phone coding. Even a bad one would do.
I'll venture to say that I haven't changed. I'll even go further: it appears I'm becoming much more set in my ways.
So maybe when we say we want to change, we shouldn't go near the fundamentals. Maybe our resolutions or "new school year" lists should be categorized more specifically.
"Things I Want To Change About How I Do Things" and "Things I Want To Change About Myself"...
In the past year, I've made a short list of things I want to change about how I do things.
For instance, I'm very poor at prioritizing. Perhaps it's because I take on a lot. And perhaps it's just the luck of the draw.
But I know I do what I'm passionate about at the time and not necessarily the thing that really needs to be done.
This is why I can only do marathons and not triathlons. I can go out and run, but I only run in the way I'm feeling inspired. If I'm feeling passionate about running a long way, I run a long way. If I'm impassioned to run fast and short, I run fast and short.
Luckily, in running, it all comes out in the wash. Get in some longs, get in some shorts, you can do the whole enchilada.
But in triathlons and life, it doesn't add up the same. Swim everyday because you just want to swim and you'll be hurting on the run.
Work on your book or your golf swing or your house remodeling for too long and something else suffers. Two parts golf and one part taxes doesn't necessarily add up to a refund.
So I've focused my attention on focusing my attention.
No more eating just the carbs. Gotta eat the veggies, the meat and the carbs in relatively equal parts. Assuming that's what's on my plate, of course.
So hopefully I can get my refund. And keep life mostly balanced.
The prioritizing seems to be something I can work on. And even something I can change.
But what about changing myself? I'm not sure it's possible. And now, after my night of phone coding, I'm not sure it's something I want.
I tried to be lighter. People always said "lighten up" and so I tried to be lighter.
I tried to be looser. People always said "just try it" and so I just tried it.
And my mind was definitely open.
In fact, I was excited about becoming somebody different.
But the fact is that I'm not. I'm just not somebody different. And it's not about whether I like to stay up late or eat in fancy restaurants. It's really just about what turns me on.
Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand, two of my foremost arch enemies, once sang about how somebody didn't bring flowers or write love songs anymore. They pointed out to the poor sucker on the hotseat that he or she hardly talked anymore when he or she came through the door at the end of the day.
You know what? I don't care.
Keep your flowers. Keep your lovesongs. Keep your thoughts to yourself when you come home if that's what you choose to do.
Take me to Subway or take me to The Prime Rib. If you can deal with the fact that I'm a complete embarassment in fancy restaurants, The Prime Rib's fine with me.
Shovel whenever you want. If you want me to help, just ask. I may not say yes, but feel free to ask.
Do whatever you want. I don't care.
But once in a while, maybe you could just call me and tell me your thoughts on borders in linked images, parameters, values, cell spacing, wrapping and horizontal scrolling.
And maybe you could show me how to write br with the open/close tags in text without causing a line break.
And maybe you'll share one of your favorite codes.
And maybe, if I'm really lucky, you'll let me view your source.
If you show me yours, maybe, just maybe, I'll show you mine.