And to think I called the previous week chaotic. Performed some last-minute BSD/Windows security testing. Got my dad a TomTom GPS unit for his (59th) birthday. Procured a Hanscom computer and SIPRnet account. Am incrementally experimenting with airport metal-detector sensitivity. (So far I’m (safely) up to watch, ring, wallet and belt buckle.) Compiled a list of yearlong accomplishments spanning forty-two projects(!!!) for my annual review. Attended a strangely Godfather-esque meeting in Crystal City to defuse tensions between two parties. (Right down to a surreal “I swear on the souls of my grandchildren I will not be the one to break this peace” paraphrase, even.) Bailed out of a companion trip destined for Baltimore. Learned some rather distressing things about a colleague’s mysterious absence. Have slept perhaps thirteen hours out of the past ninety-six.
Your humble Narrator presently finds himself laptop-surfing from a hotel lobby abutting Redondo Beach. (Yeah, yeah, it’s a SANS conference.) The entire Manhattan/Hermosa/Redondo region seems seedy and run-down at first glance; residents come in one of two varieties, bleached-blonde Californian beachgoer and indeterminate Asian-Latin melange. I am reminded of recent exchanges with my mother (‘I’ve never really felt like I was part of anything, which isn’t to say that anyone excluded or ostracized me, but rather that I’ve always felt alone, or maybe on the outside looking in’) and spouse (‘I think kids who grow up and escape their hometowns are now the norm, as opposed to townie types who stay put, extend roots and return to what they know’) and yearbook (‘Dear Sven, you will forever be set apart, Jeff Fuller’).
Things need to slow down a bit, however temporarily.