I’m there again.  Sick, again, of being here.  I’m enjoying Austin being here, but I know he’ll be leaving and, frankly, I want to leave with him.  There are a lot of things that go into this.  One which I know is contributing to my foul mood, but which I think I should discount, is the simple fact that when I am working on a software project and it feels blocked (in this case, by my inability to grok the stupid stupid world of GUIs and the particular brain-dead library I’m using, because it’s the only thing with good sound-playing support I could find), my mood gets real bad—I enter a pretty persistent funk matched only by the joy I get on the other side, when I make things work.  But in the realm of GUIs, there’s something profoundly unsatisfying about getting them to work; it’s just fiddly crap, not satisfying wrapping-your-head-around-an-algorithm stuff.

So that’s part of it.  But part of it is feeling intensely like, despite being here, going out, doing things, trying to be here in an honest fashion, and trying this for 6 months, I’m still not succeeding.  I have made beginnings of friendships, and shied back from them, or found them uninteresting—even out of the people I knew back East who are out here, I’ve seen all but one of them, managed a few times, and then, really, lost interest.

And then, on the other side, I need more singing.  I think if I had managed to keep going to Meeting, I might have enjoyed the occasional singing there, but it runs deeper than that in any case.

There’s the one thing that really gives me pause, though, and that is the fact that my job is basically awesome, and it’s hard to envision a better way to be employed*.  So… do I risk that?

(A somewhat strange realization: one of the things I am particularly missing right now is late long summer evenings on Karl’s porch singing and picking.  It’s almost bringing tears to my eyes right now.)


* I choose my words carefully; for me, the idea of working for someone else is a little strange, since I grew up with self-employed parents doing something that they basically made up.  This seems to me the ideal.