Antisociology

Drugs

Posted in Uncategorized by antisociology on September 29, 2008

Been quiet the past few weeks due to illness. I seemed to be getting better until last week when I took a business trip over to the left coast. We left on a 7AM ET flight, and landed six hours later, drove straight to the office and worked a pretty full day. By the time I’d gotten to bed that night, I had pretty much been up for forty hours. On returning to NYC, my cough was back in full force and getting worse.

I finally hauled myself to a doctor last Friday to get checked out. The doc suspected a case of pneumonia (!). Unfortunately, being between insurance right now, the chest X-ray to confirm was a bit pricey, so I opted to skip straight to the antibiotic. I’m one of those people who believes that we, as a society, overprescribe antibiotics, but they seem to be working in this case. I’ve got two more doses left, and then it’ll probably be another few weeks till I am 100%.

The business trip was good. We had a solid brainstorming session, and I got to meet the rest of the technical team that, up until now, I had only interacted with over e-mail and phone. Also interviewed some job candidates. It’s much nicer being able to talk face to face rather than just over the phone.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been at this job for six months (or is it seven, already?). Things are going pretty well, and people seem happy with my work. We just moved into spacious new offices. At night, I can see the big “New Yorker” sign on the New Yorker hotel, and 1 Penn Plaza. Unfortunately, the building bike policy is being argued over right now. I’m not sure if I want to go ahead and get my commuter bike ordered, or if I want to wait. I guess, in some sense, it doesn’t really matter since I can still use it for getting groceries, or visiting friends at points distant.

I do feel like I need a new side project, but I can’t quite seem to get myself excited about anything enough to actually start.

The Geek’s Dilemma

Posted in Uncategorized by antisociology on September 11, 2008

I am not sure if I should be writing this mostly because I am not sure who is going to read it. It’s something I need to say somewhere, though, and I have long gotten out of the habit of keeping a personal journal. Maybe I’ll get back to that if this comes back to bite me.

I upset someone I really like. We are going to talk about it soon, but I feel like I need to write all of this down, lest I forget it in a moment of despair and embarrassment. When I found out I’d made this particular person uncomfortable, I was confused and hurt. Perhaps most alarming was the manner in which I’d induced this discomfort. The episode turned what I thought I knew all topsy turvy.

The what and why of the matter is not so important as the how — how I came to do this thing. Some of it is a badly tuned sense of humor. What I thought were innocent flirtations were taken as something entirely different. Some of these things I said, I said because I like to help my friends. I’d be lying if I didn’t sometimes have another motive, though.

People like this person I’ve upset don’t come around my life very often. With even lower probability, do they show any interest. I can count on one hand the number of people that have made feel like this person has. I want so badly to be able to make this person happy. I respect this person, and look up to them in many ways. I thought things were going well, and desperately wanted to know in no uncertain terms that these feelings were shared.

You see, I’m normally a shy, withdrawn person. Social interaction was not something that was actively encouraged by my parents. In a way, I feel like there is some social code that I was never let in on, and I have to learn it the hard way now. The point of this is that what I did, I did not with any expectation, but out of some fear that things would slip away as they have on many other occasions. I wanted this person to myself, even if just for a few moments.

So, I asked, and I asked. Sometimes in jest, and sometimes because I wanted to help. Sometimes I asked because I wanted those quiet moments alone. I asked too much. I hadn’t thought that all of these moments might have added up to a picture of me that might cause an uncomfortable feeling, but they did.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but I’m ready to admit that I fucked up. Sort of. With some explanation.