Broken Thumb Blog - Personal Musings

No regrets? Maybe once.

nospam@example.com (Brian Gaither) — Mon, 23 Oct 2006 11:34:10 -0700

I have, so much as possible, tried to live a life without regrets. As a result, I have given the big decisions in my life all the attention they need so that I haven't had to regret them. And once a decision has been made, I have accepted all the ugly consequences I overlooked. I believe regret distracts us from the challenge of leading a happy life.

However, there is one bundle of regrets I can't overcome. Three times in my life I've made decisions to relocate (or not relocate) from one coast to another, and three time I think I've made a mistake.

Experience makes all things relative, and what I once considered to be the fault of bad timing now seems to have been more the fault of bad judgment. When I was younger, I was impetuous and a little short-sighted. I was closed-off emotionally, focused solely on how to make myself happy. I thought I had more control over things than I actually do, and I desperatley wanted to get someplace in life I thought would make me secure.

At 31, I feel I've mostly corrected these personality flaws. Though, I feel it may be too late to make much difference. I hope I'm wrong, but how does one seriously accept that his life is only just beginning in his early 30's? How does he prevent old regrets from spawning fresh doubts?

I know now that I made some bad tactical decisions in plotting the course for my life. But it's impossible to know how the arc of seven or eight years will play out. Ironically, only at the end does someone see the full impact of missed opportunities. I look back now and wonder where things would be if I had picked an alternative course on just one of those occasions.

If I'm lucky--truly lucky--maybe I can salvage some lost time. If I'm not, then I at least hope to make a final peace with my regrets.

Centered

nospam@example.com (Brian Gaither) — Thu, 19 Oct 2006 16:43:28 -0700

I have found my center and become a gyroscope. Wobble me, bobble me; still it holds.

It's been three years since I came to Seattle, and (finally) I think all the nasty edges have been whittled away. There are still a few areas I'm working to improve. But, the legacy of other places and times has mostly been erased.

Before, I was cruel and impatient. My misanthropic tendencies governed my attitude. I was indelicate and ungracious in expressing my opinions. Slow to praise I would rush to criticize. Now I am tolerant to the point of impracticality. I consider the impact of my words and actions on other people and wonder how to be a less discomfitting presence. I enjoy the calm that comes from allowing other people their way in the world. If a thing is one I cannot change, there is little point in letting it knock me out of balance.

I mention all these things because they became obvious to me while in New York. In the subway tunnels it was common for the crowd to push around me, like a river runs past the legs of a bridge. I was slow and plodding quite nearly to being still. They were limitless and in motion. One evening as I was walked down Central Park West an elderly gentleman sped by me. I don't remember anyone lapping me in New York when I lived there, not even spry old folk. Once I would have picked up my pace, joined the crowd and run by, or over, anyone who blocked my progress. I certainly wouldn't have been overtaken by the elderly.

The hard part, I think, will be finding the right momentum to hold my center. I am, after all, become a gyroscope.

New York, New York

nospam@example.com (Brian Gaither) — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 18:12:49 -0700

It's been a busy few days. But I think my New York itch has been scratched.

Though I consider the Big Apple to be my home, I'm happy to enjoy the fresh air and pace of life in Seattle for a long while more.

Seattle, New York. New York, Seattle.

nospam@example.com (Brian Gaither) — Fri, 13 Oct 2006 14:48:21 -0700

I love Seattle, but I've lately realized that my true home is New York. It's a good thing to realize, but unexpected. Last time I traveled to the City, I decided I didn't want to be there; I chose to stay here.

However, I recently began questioning that decision. First I thought it was simply because I couldn't be happy in New York. When I first came West , it was because I hated the crowds, the filth they generated and the target they represented post 9-11. I desperately wanted to commute in a private carriage with reserved seating, a radio, and a place to put my bags. Here, the pace of life has helped me get centered. I've quit smoking, I'm eating healthier, I swim, I go to the gym, and I have time to blog. When the air smells of anything it's pine and rain, not piss and trash.

But in leaving behind all those people, by getting in my car, I was cutting myself off from the part of life that makes it so wonderful. All the millions of people in megacities enable a diversity insupportable anywhere else. Statistically, all manner of businesses, organizations, and activities are viable in places like New York simply because it takes such a small percentage of the population to succeed.

Living on the West Coast is very much a process of active self-removal. People exile themselves from public living. They commute in cars, often alone, and physically detached from one another. In subways and on street corners it’s the easiest thing imaginable to say “excuse me�? or “can you move to the center of the train?�? – a thing different, by definition, from the blast of a horn. And when West Coasters are not commuting, they wall themselves off in constantly re-decorated homes with immaculately landscaped yards. It’s easy to filter all manner of uncomfortable ideas and people without seeming too much of a snob. If you pick the right neighborhood, choose the right friends, and watch the right TV, life becomes a blissful little hobby.

Seattle has its charms, but great museums, dozens of old bookstores, and the thumpa-thumpa of global commerce are not among them. I once told Gavin that New York is a city with a park in the middle, while Seattle is a park with a city in the middle. I still hold that opinion. But now I miss the daily staple of unexpected events. I crave the barrage of uncomfortable ideas and a people willing to always speak their mind.

Having a car and wide open spaces has been wondrous. But I need to be around people; to eavesdrop their conversations held in Portuguese, Russian or Yiddish; to see them slink, saunter, scurry and strut along streets and in subways. I need to hear them yelling at one another and telling each other stories. I need to see middle-aged punk rockers loitering on 57th Street and silver-haired dowagers chasing down cabs. I need to be offended by the odd juxtapositions that only occur in New York. And I can’t do that from my car.

For now, I am happy enough here. I have a good job, a good life, and good friends. But at some point the detachment, the geographic distance, the personal isolation, and the cultural paucity in the Northwest will all become wholly intolerable. I will succumb to the draw of New York. I will go home.

Ick!!Ewwww!! Tax Day :(

nospam@example.com (Brian Gaither) — Mon, 17 Apr 2006 23:07:30 -0700

I filed an extension. I'm not eager to deal with the paperwork this year. Something about government spending on war, Medicare Part D, Gitmo, excessive regulation, and my general repugnance for politicians sapped my motivation to "get around to it." I'll report my income later, with the help of a discounted, day-after copy of Turbo Tax.

My intention was to blog about pollution in China. But that invariably led me to think about U.S. grain exports that may be needed to feed the Chinese (whose remaining arable land is being sucked into megacities). Then, I started thinking more generally about trade with China which meant thinking specifically about the federal deficit and the national debt. It all led back to the fact that today is Tax Day, which just wears me out.