Isolationism

… But not because I’m spring cleaning. It’s been over a month since I’ve so much as touched the keyboard here—not that anyone’s noticed except me, feeling guiltier for every passing day. That isn’t to say that nothing’s happened; whether it’s worth sharing (or reading) is a different question altogether. I wonder lately whether I should bother to keep a blog at all.

There have been big changes at work to adjust to, which has sucked up some of my time—but change is always like that, then you get over it and life goes on. I’m settling into the new routine with each passing day, so hopefully that part of my life will stabilise again (for a little while, at least).

I have been doing a little bit of work with Django lately (well, a little while ago—I haven’t touched much of anything in the past three weeks), which turns out to be a delight to work with; I commend its designers for their brilliant object model implementation above all else (although the templating system is quite elegant as well). I had been doing some work in CherryPy as well for work, which is a different but similarly enjoyable experience, it being raw and simple where Django is refined and comprehensive, which lets you spread your wings a bit while developing.

I ended up going with Kid over Cheetah for templating in CherryPy as the former seems a bit more “seat-of-the-pants” and a bit less involved to learn despite its many shortcomings—it’s also what TurboGears uses by default, which had some influence in my decision—although I may go back to Cheetah and give it another shake at some point in the future. I don’t know if I’m that interested in TurboGears though, given its somewhat poor performance (from what I’ve read, anyway—who has time to try everything out for themselves?). Anyway, sadly that little CherryPy side-project has been shelved indefinitely since the switch-up at work; who knows when I’ll be coding Python professionally again (if ever) because of the recent regime change.

At least there are still hobbies. One of the most interesting developments over the past couple months is the revival of Boodler, software which needs no introduction to my readers; after having contacted its creator for a second time (the first was in August of last year), he agreed to resume development on the project in grand style: He opened a Sourceforge Project and purchased the domain name Boodler.org at my suggestion, along with a Dreamhost account to host a web site which will hopefully have a bunch of neat stuff on it in the future. All we need now is something to put up there, which I (perhaps rashly) volunteered to design—but lately I haven’t had the spirit, or the energy, to do much on the project than make the occasional reply on Boodler’s mailing list to keep things rolling. Hopefully I’ll get my second wind soon.

In other non-nerdy news, we also had the recent pleasure of Sunday brunch with my good friend Marc’s mum, Nyam. I confess it isn’t as nice as when Marc could join us, too, to share his levity and unique insight and perspective in the most seemingly mundane subjects.

I miss all of my friends terribly: Mike, on the west coast with a family of his own whose members I long to see and talk to again (besides the occasional email to rant about how Michael Bay is destroying our childhood memories). Maybe MCM’s kids are old enough now not to be as shy when they meet me… but that was only ever because they don’t remember me, and how depressing is that; Michel and Adrienne, whom I fortunately get to chat with regularly and maybe a visit a few times a year—although their visits are always too brief. Pat, who is here at home in Ottawa, but who leads a very different life now, unemployed and unable to leave the house much of the time due to his illness, except to endure all manner of horrifying treatments to try to return to a somewhat normal life again; I’m glad for our regular chats on the phone if nothing else, just to know he’s OK and to get a different point of view from someone who’s not shy to speak their mind. And there is Alex, who now lives further afield from Montreal, having made his divorce from Tania final and moving on with his life of which I know little; it seems that our distance has driven a wedge deeper between our friendship over the years; I hope he’s as happy as he ever was, and in good health.

But most of all, I miss Marc.

It’s been a little over a year now since I shook his hand, or went for a walk to talk about everything and nothing, and have him see my life through my eyes, and help me decide what to do the way only a most-trusted friend can do. It’s been that long since I made a meal for him and he dined at our table; always complementary even if I got it wrong and turned the beef with bell peppers into soggy mush, or chili’ed the rice with peas up to its flashing point. I’ve tried to stop feeling guilty for not leaving a small portion of big meals aside for him now, in case he should suddenly show up at my door out of the blue the way he would sometimes, and we’d have nothing to offer. It’s been the same amount of time since I had a simple, casual conversation with him the way we so often would; now any words we exchange at all are few and far in between with satellite relay delays to contend with, or emails, or blog messages … and of course, for nearly half a year now, there’s been no words at all.

I regret not having spent the time we had together doing … more. Not that watching movies, eating, chatting, walking and talking was bad—but now that he’s halfway around the world with not so much as a ballpark return date to look forward to, it’s sinking in that things may never be the same when he returns—if he returns at all. I wish I had taken the opportunity to absorb his culinary skill, but I was always too busy preparing something here, or enjoying something that was already made at his place when we were invited over and never thought to ask; maybe I thought things would last forever the way they were, that there would always be time. I regret not talking to him more about himself; it seems he’s too successful at being a good listener, and I have been only too eager to fill any silence with my blathering. There was so much to ask, and tell, about himself—and I am regret for not letting him do so.

Worst of all, I wonder if I’m part of the reason Marc has all but found a new life half-way around the world, it seems to me, in my darker moments. I don’t entertain the thought that I drove him away, but that I could have been a better friend for all of the reasons above … and that I should have been more accepting and supportive of his decision to move away in the first place, instead of greedily hoping for his trip to be postponed again for a few months—or indefinitely—as I am guilty of having done for all the wrong reasons which—to my discredit—I know Marc would never have done, had our positions been reversed.

I still haven’t given up hope that some day, Marc will find what he sought out to Taipei to look for, and come home to his family, and his friends. Whether he stays abroad for another day or a decade, I hope he knows without a doubt that I love him, and miss him—as only a best friend could.