No maps for these territories

My productive activity for the day has been sweating. It is so hot. In a certain perverse way, I don’t mind; I’ve only had the air conditioner on a couple hours. But, this also means I haven’t gotten anything else done. My brain turns off at temperatures over 80F, I think.

Yesterday I went into San Francisco for a meetup, and it was WONDERFUL. I drove to the East Bay and then took BART in, so it wasn’t even terribly stressful driving and parking wise, which is my least favorite part of going to the city. And I wore a jacket! and jeans! And it was appropriate clothing! Sigh.

Of course, the best part was seeing everyone, including the unexpected appearance of the lovely Ms. , who graced us with her appearance all the way from D.C. Since Erik was in town from Germany, I think we might win some kind of “people from far away places showing up” award, better even than last winter when a few of us Americans crashed a London meetup.

Of course all of this pales compared to Wikimania, but I am panicking over the conference coming off and would prefer not to talk about it, kthnx.

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Coming home on the BART, on the long lazy curve through West Oakland, there were gasps from the people on my side of the train as we passed over the West Oakland Fire Arts Festival, where people demo their work for Burning Man and other magnificent firey art. In retrospect, I should have gotten off at the next station, turned around and gone directly back. I was disoriented, though, and tired, and and and. It looked crazy and beautiful from the air, though; at first I thought there was a housefire, then I saw the spinning wheels and jets, like a deranged burning carnival. This sort of thing, incidentally, is why San Francisco is distinct from anywhere else I know; while I already know I don’t belong here [there] for the long-term, I appreciate the strangeness and righteous beauty for now.

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My capacity to be whiny and self-indulgent, perhaps even bitter and cranky, while things are approximately ok by all reasonable measures never ceases to amaze me. Do I have roughly my dream job? Check, x 2 or perhaps 3 if you count the conference work. Do I love my living situation, enjoy my colleagues? Sure. Do I have great friends (albeit ones who are all far away from here)? Of course. Do I make a living wage? And then some. And yet: and yet, and yet, I haven’t had a date in a year, I don’t have local friends, I feel betrayed by a couple people I really care about, and most of all I’m just sad.

I hope this ends soon. This year so far has been reminiscent of the spring-to-spring year when I was 16 and 17; desperate, superficially ok but rather horrid emotionally. I don’t know why, but I suspect similar things are at work — I’m lonely, feeling a bit abandoned, trying to make my own way without any choice in the matter. Who made me an adult, anyway? Is what I wanted to ask then, and is sort of what I want to ask now, a decade later.