The first Saturday of the vacation sees me, after a good bicycle ride and a visit to the Yamaha dealer, in Tijuana. I am searching for artificial life money (and nootropics). Each pharmacy that I visit has huge signs for Cipro - the anthrax antibiotic. I do not buy any but I do buy other...um...things that I need. Towards the late afternoon I head back for the border. It turns out that the extra security as a result of the September 11th disaster results in about a 3 hour (a bit less actually) delay to get back to the USA.
I am in a hurry to return to Long Beach because Brandon and Joe want to go to West Hollywood and party and I want to join them. We meet up at a club - but only after I've already met someone and started a fun conversation. (I actually saved the guy from an old troll who kept bothering him.)
There is the intermediate interogation (after the prelims): Ray: "You look latino" Person P: "Do I? I'm not. I'm asian." [Of course] Ray: "From where?" Person P: "From Vietnam." [Of course] Ray: "What is your name?" Person P: "Peter." [Of course] Ray: "What do you do?" Person P: "IT stuff." [Of course] Ray: "And?" Person P: "And I go to school." [Of course] Person P: "And do volunteer work." [Of course] Throughout the evening we hang out together and apart as we each mingle with the crowd. When Person P wants to leave at the end of the evening, he specifically searches me out to say that he is leaving. And I say, "It doesn't sound like you have much time, but if I gave you my number would you call me?"
And the response that Person P gives, which is actually the one that I want to hear, is "I am way too busy now. But hopefully we'll run into each other again soon." (I want to hear this response because I don't really want to be involved or starting to get involved with someone who has no time.)
Here's another series of days where I get to sleep near 3am and get out of bed to go for bicycle rides just after 7 or 7:30 (depending upon how cold it is outside).
On Christmas Day, just as I'm getting ready for a long bicycle ride, the telephone rings. I debate whether to answer or not. The answering machine picks it up and it is the worst case nightmare telephone call that I was dreading. I pick up the phone and start talking. I have scripted this telephone call once each day for the last 30 days (the last time that this person was heard from). I stick to the script: "How was your final exam?" and "Why are you calling?". This gets the conversation started and it is actually a reasonable conversation though the other person still doesn't see anything strange about calling somebody eight times in five days, saying how much you are missed, and then not calling for 30 days. I DO notice that he uses carefully chosen words at times: 1) He says his phone was "...unavailable..." (What does that mean?); 2) He says that he "...isn't really..." reading the dairy. (Either you're reading it or you're not.) I leave the call with "I am not going to call because everytime that I call you feel pressured" and "If you can be considerate and responsible, then you should call again".
[I jump ahead here for a moment: Person T*'s explanation of a Buddhist thought helps me out here. He owed me something from a past life and after two weeks of friendship - the most that he is capable of - the debt was paid and he should leave my life.]
After a good cranking bicycle ride down to Huntington Beach and back, I have little recollection of the conversation. And there appears to be no emotional fallout.
Daniel from San Francisco comes over and we drive to downtown Los Angeles to walk around and take pictures and look at buildings. We eat lunch, on Christmas Day, in a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant on Broadway near 5th. And enjoy walking around the junkies and hookers and imagining how the area used to be in the 1940's and 1950's.
Person T* and I go to the IMAX theatre near USC. (Person T* is the one who withdrew the invitation to the Avionics System Center Christmas party after I disappointed her.) I keep asking the questions in order to steer the conversation away from me. The entire outing is made reasonable when her Buddhist lesson to me makes sense: Her husband owed her something from a past life and when the debt was paid, he died.
There is an appropriate inscription in a brick at the California Science Center (where the IMAX is). It says, "Is love in the heart or in the brain?" Exactly! Perfect! For me, love is in the heart. Unlike others.
For the seven day period starting on Saturday before Christmas and ending on Friday before New Years the total bicycling mileage is approaching 300 miles. Not quite 300 miles, but close. (After Fridays 45 mile ride I examine the rear wheel of the road bike and find that a spoke ripped the metal off the hub! Now, even though I own two bicycles, both are in need of rear wheel spoke/hub repair.)
After another little incident, I finally admit that I have lost a few pounds lately. I decide to stem the tide. I absolutely pig out on Saturday and Sunday. There are lots of slices of bread, huge chunks of cheese, full glasses of milk, and mountains of cookies. Did I mention mountains of cookies?
The Saturday appointment with Dr. B, my oncologist, is cancelled. I decide to go out and party instead! Tonight I go where the junk takes me. I get an offer from Person C that I don't know how to refuse. Here's another night of getting to sleep at 3am only to wake up just after 7.
Today, January 2, 2002, I celebrate my 15 year anniversary at TRW. A long time here! Cool people. Fun work (at times). Frustrating work (at times).