QOTD

Under a sky wide open
Alone on an empty plain,
We live, and we go on living
To choose, and to choose again.

—Jo Walton (papersky), here

QOTD

Under a sky wide open
Alone on an empty plain,
We live, and we go on living
To choose, and to choose again.

—Jo Walton (papersky), here

This may constitute a disclaimer

I want to understand people and why they do things. This applies especially to people I know or interact with, or to people who I feel connected to. That connection can be from multiple thin strands, or someone who I know barely if at all who is close to, or has significant influence on, one of the people I love.

One consequence of this appears to be that, especially if the people aren't available [at the time or at all], I speculate, based on some combination of what I know [about that person or people in general] and a desire to believe that something other than inchoate malice is at work. That is, I'm prepared to think "well, we know that P doesn't like Q, so zie might have done this in order to avoid Q/stop R from helping Q/etc." but not "S did that because zie is a supervillain/possessed by the devil."

This sort of speculative quasi-analysis isn't likely to be applied to my partners--I can ask them what's going on. It's more likely to be someone who one of my partners or good friends is musing about, or a relative or supervisor.

I think I usually manage to label these speculations as what they are. I hope so. And I hope I don't later treat them as actual data because they were stated out loud or on screen/paper, heard or seen by me in the course of this, and not refuted. But memory is weird.

This may constitute a disclaimer

I want to understand people and why they do things. This applies especially to people I know or interact with, or to people who I feel connected to. That connection can be from multiple thin strands, or someone who I know barely if at all who is close to, or has significant influence on, one of the people I love.

One consequence of this appears to be that, especially if the people aren't available [at the time or at all], I speculate, based on some combination of what I know [about that person or people in general] and a desire to believe that something other than inchoate malice is at work. That is, I'm prepared to think "well, we know that P doesn't like Q, so zie might have done this in order to avoid Q/stop R from helping Q/etc." but not "S did that because zie is a supervillain/possessed by the devil."

This sort of speculative quasi-analysis isn't likely to be applied to my partners--I can ask them what's going on. It's more likely to be someone who one of my partners or good friends is musing about, or a relative or supervisor.

I think I usually manage to label these speculations as what they are. I hope so. And I hope I don't later treat them as actual data because they were stated out loud or on screen/paper, heard or seen by me in the course of this, and not refuted. But memory is weird.

Alan is heading home, as am I

alanro spent the weekend with us; we all took it easy, just hanging out and catching up and playing Scrabble. (OK, yesterday afternoon we combined a few useful errands--apparently there's a niche market for Q-tips with wooden sticks, served by Village Apothecary (my source for cinnamint toothpaste) and including Alan's father--with dinner at Mingala. But mostly we took it very easy.)

The weather being as it has been, Alan wasn't sure he'd make it out of LaGuardia to Seattle today, so I insisted he hang on to our spare keys. He just called from Dulles to tell me he'd barely made his connection but is on his way home; I surmise the crew instructed everyone to turn off cell phones a couple of minutes after we talked.

I am going to go home, trying to stay dry en route, and snuggle under my blankets. Good company, even if just hanging out, can translate into staying up too late and talking my throat raw. Rye bread can wait.

Alan is heading home, as am I

alanro spent the weekend with us; we all took it easy, just hanging out and catching up and playing Scrabble. (OK, yesterday afternoon we combined a few useful errands--apparently there's a niche market for Q-tips with wooden sticks, served by Village Apothecary (my source for cinnamint toothpaste) and including Alan's father--with dinner at Mingala. But mostly we took it very easy.)

The weather being as it has been, Alan wasn't sure he'd make it out of LaGuardia to Seattle today, so I insisted he hang on to our spare keys. He just called from Dulles to tell me he'd barely made his connection but is on his way home; I surmise the crew instructed everyone to turn off cell phones a couple of minutes after we talked.

I am going to go home, trying to stay dry en route, and snuggle under my blankets. Good company, even if just hanging out, can translate into staying up too late and talking my throat raw. Rye bread can wait.