Magic Happens
One Friday evening, during the summer of 1998 in Corvallis, Oregon, I was just starting a personal-growth weekend. I had not been feeling well all day, especially as the afternoon and early evening progressed, but I decided I would participate in the workshop anyway. About an hour into the evening, I left the group and went to the restroom...and experienced a very big surprise when I began to pee pure blood. (Hang with me here, the story will get better. I promise.)
I’ll skip the really gory details, but I did end up spending the entire night in the emergency room of Good Samaritan Hospital. I was probed, tested, monitored and examined by not only the ER doc (who looked like he was in junior high school) but by the on-call urologist. Even before the consultation with the urologist, however, Doogie Howser had a diagnosis for me: bladder cancer. He informed me of his diagnosis while standing on the other side of the room, slipping the word “carcinoma” into the conversation as if I wouldn’t notice, while he was visibly backing away from me toward the door. What a piece of work this guy was!
When I clarified that he was actually telling me I had CANCER, I informed him... “well, it’s at times like these that I tend to experience high anxiety. A good, strong sedative would really be appropriate right now.” He obliged. And, a little while after it kicked in, I was a lot more relaxed...even good humored and tending toward the philosophical. I remarked to “C” – who was with me at the workshop and had taken me to the hospital – “well, see, this is why I get up every morning...you just never know what’s going to happen on any given day.”
Now, at this point, I had just been diagnosed with cancer. A little while later, the urologist would agree with Doogie’s diagnosis. Here I was, my life about to take a dramatic downward turn, and I was joking. Actually, the drug was simply allowing me to be relaxed enough to act as a truth serum. I really was espousing my philosophy of life: you never know what the coming day will bring. You might as well embrace it when it comes.
Shit really does happen, though...and sometimes it is just terribly difficult to be all that happy about it. Thankfully, for me, that night the doctors were wrong. I did not have bladder cancer, as a procedure in an urologist’s office two days later would confirm. (Apparently, I had merely passed a kidney stone.)
Sometimes, of course, totally delightful things happen when you least expect them to. I had an example of that yesterday when I went to a local Starbucks to do some writing. My “usual spot” in the store was taken, so I put my computer bag down at the next table. I went to the counter to order my tea, then returned to my seat and set up my machine. As I was settling in, the woman sitting at “my” table remarked on the Apple logo I had placed on my Dell PC, and started asking me some questions about the relative merits of PC laptops vs. Macs. (She is going to buy a new computer soon.)
Well, one thing led to another. I learned she was a blogger, so I asked for her web address and I looked it up while we talked (across tables). We continued talking like that for a bit, but then, as the conversation went on, I invited her to sit at my table. We eventually shared much of our personal biographies, including a number of stories of family and relationship issues -- topics that tend to really expose a lot about a person. She was (is) an exceptional listener, and didn’t back away from eye contact. She was non-judgmental in her approach...as I was feeling really listened to and totally accepted. We covered many other topics as well, such as inclusion and human touch and letting go. Our conversation rambled all over the place: for a total of three hours, during which time I didn’t look at my watch even once.
She eventually had to leave. She was meeting her father for dinner. And, then she had plans to drive back home to Los Angeles this morning. Which is what I’m assuming she’s doing right now as I write this.
You just never know, though...what any day is going to bring. Yesterday brought a little bit of magic into this otherwise drab life of mine.
Soundtrack Suggestion
If you believe in magic, come along with me
Well dance until morning ’til there’s just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I’ll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we’ll go dancing, baby, then you’ll see
How the magic’s in the music and the music’s in me
(“Do You Believe in Magic” – The Lovin’ Spoonful)
Digital Intimacy
I signed up for a Facebook account in July. At the time, I had no idea that I was playing with fire…that I might be embarking upon some kind of transformative path in my life…that this was a journey that would provide me, in very short order, with great highs and ultimate lows.
But I was (doing all those things). And here’s a little bit of the story.
Although I have had for some years a very broad and active online presence (evidence: this blog, my old blog, a personal website, a LinkedIn page, a Match.com profile, and a Flickr photo-sharing site), I had, however naively, neglected an entire universe (millions and millions) of people out there active in social-networking sites (namely MySpace and Facebook). In fact, if I thought about such internet destinations at all, I asked myself: What’s the attraction? What’s the point?
But late last June I did another Google search that led me, yet again, to someone’s Facebook page…which, of course, was unavailable to me since I was, first: not a Facebook member, and second: not that person’s Facebook “friend.”
This was not the first time this had happened. I sighed. Dead end.
However, this time, for whatever reason, I thought about it some more and within a few days, I signed up for a Facebook account. That was the ridiculously easy part. Now what? I thought…am I really going to start a “page?” If I enter some information, what will this mean? Who will I share it with? Am I going to seek Facebook friends? Do I even know one single person here with whom to be friends? And: what, ultimately, does it mean to be a Facebook friend, anyway?
In essence, I was asking: Why am I here?
The eternal, existential, question.
Well, little did I know that I was entering, what Clive Thompson (in the September 7 New York Times Magazine) calls, the “Brave New World of Digital Intimacy.” In this thoroughly absorbing article, Thompson discusses the attraction of social networking and how the “omnipresent knowledge” of what others are doing is “intriguing and addictive.”
And, indeed, while he tries to explain all of this, Thompson and the individuals he interviews all seem to acknowledge that the phenomena of “ambient awareness” and “digital intimacy” are very difficult to communicate: that you have to actually participate to understand how this all works. His discussion starts out with a story about Facebook, but much of the article is devoted to a description of the so-called microblogging tool available at Twitter.com, which gives individuals the opportunity to broadcast to the world short updates about their lives (in answer to the question: “what are you doing”), in 140 characters or less. The bottom line, for many people (and certainly it’s turned out that way for me), is that the quality of ambient awareness of others created by Facebook and Twitter is a way for a person to “feel less alone.”
So, yes, I have come, slowly, during the last couple of months or so, to feel less alone in the world. This has been a very positive development in my life. And, perhaps, as I said in the first paragraph: transformative. For while my physical being continues to be on a healing path, my emotional self seems to be in a similar recovery…partly attributable, I believe, to more social connection.
The dominant relationship that has been enhanced is with one, dear-to-me person I used to work with in Portland. The emails, instant-messaging, and the “mobile” aspects of Facebook (when I’m away from my computer, I get a text message when she updates her page or sends me an email), have brought us much closer together. She visited me here in person last week.
Of course, nothing good goes unpunished. I had my first real Facebook dilemma last week as well.
Facebook had become the one place in the universe that seemed to be left for me to maintain my relationships with “C”’s (adult) kids. All three of them, two of their spouses, and one significant other, had all befriended me on Facebook. To the extent that any of them logged in and updated their page(s), I was able to keep up with their lives. C did not have a Facebook account.
Until last week, that is. Last Wednesday morning I opened up my page to discover, on my news feed, that “daughter-in-law and C” were now friends.
I was stunned. Aghast. Angry and upset. What is SHE doing here?, I asked. This is MY place!, I exclaimed. (To myself.)
Upon poking around, I found that I had access to C’s page and she to mine (because of the manner in which I had configured my privacy settings). This would not do! Neither would being in the same social online network with her. That very day, I wrote a painful (for me) note to all six kids, indicating that since C was now on Facebook, I was going to have to leave. I sent off the emails and then deleted them from my list of friends.
For me: great angst. Great. Angst.
But, really, the only way.
Facebook: it’s just like real life.
Only not.
(If you need help finding me on Facebook or Twitter, just ask…)
Soundtrack Suggestion
I feel the sorrow,
Oh I feel dreams,
Everything is clear in my heart,
Everything is clear in our world,
I feel the life,
Oh I feel love.
(“Oh My Love” – John Lennon)
Update on October 9, 2008:
An astute reader writes in to remind me to remind you that my latest postings to Twitter (my five most recent “tweets”) are always available here in the right-hand sidebar of this page…in the TechnoMonk’s Tweets section.
Update on March 11, 2026:
The above update no longer applies to the new version of this blog.
Strangers in the Night
I guess I’ve been watching girls since…well, how long now? I imagine since sixth grade. At least that’s when I had my first girlfriend…so I must have been noticing them some by then.
And, all these years later, wouldn’t you know, I’m still doing it. Watching them, that is.
I took the Larkspur Ferry into the city this past Saturday for an afternoon of wandering-around photography. I hadn’t really pre-planned this activity for the day. I did something entirely rare for me: I made the decision to do this spontaneously after my haircut appointment that morning. I quickly packed up a camera body and lens into one of my most compact bags, and drove over to Larkspur Landing to catch the 11:40.
The weather was absolutely perfect here in Marin, with a similarly favorable forecast for the city, so I took a chance and dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt. (For those of you who know San Fran, you realize visiting the waterfront attired thusly is a risk.) Specifically, I had on khaki-colored shorts from REI, a faded-red souvenir t-shirt from Taos, N.M., and a Nikon-logo baseball cap. (This information is relevant later.)
When I boarded the ferry, I didn’t have much of a clue where I wanted to sit. Perching myself inside on such a magnificent day seemed a little weird, so I scoped out the entire selection of seats and finally settled on a spot on the upper deck, outside, in the rear of the boat. (I guess that’s called the stern?)
Shortly after I settled in, I noticed three women (I guessed them to be about my age) sit down on the bench directly to my left. We were in the same row, all facing the water, so I didn’t have a great view of them; but I knew they were there all the same. One of them, especially, caught my eye…as she was dressed in (what I’d call) an elegant black dress. It was a very hot day already (in the 80s, headed for the 90s), so I was asking her, in my head: what possessed you to wear that today? Another of them was wearing a large dressy hat, which also drew my attention.
For about half the trip, we all sat that way, facing aft. But then I realized that, by sitting in direct sunlight on this very hot day, I was perspiring rather profusely and sitting in a small puddle of my own sweat. (More than you wanted to know, I’m sure.) So, I stood up to air myself out. In doing so, I turned myself around, facing the other direction (fore), and was able to both brace myself on the bench and observe where the boat was headed. Of course, this allowed me to watch these lovely ladies, out of the corner of my eye, as well.
Well, watch was all I did. I couldn’t help but notice the rings (or lack thereof): Hat Lady had ringless fingers; Black-Dress Lady had rings, but they presented an ambiguous situation; the third had, what appeared to be, a wedding band. Ms. Hat Lady had a small digital camera and she spent some time taking pictures through a side window that protected us from the wind and spray. The three of them talked and were generally enjoying themselves, it appeared. Although it would have been nice to engage them in conversation…well, that never happened. Frankly, I didn’t have an opening line: for what was I, dressed the way I was, going to say to Ms. Elegant-Black-Dress Lady? I couldn’t come up with a thing.
But, there they were: attractive women, my age. And surreptitiously watching them was a good way to pass the time for the final part of the voyage. (NO, I didn’t ogle them…I did not make myself obvious.)
We reached the city, everyone went ashore, and I figured that was the last I’d ever see of these three.
Once inside the Ferry Building, I took my camera out of the bag, strapped the bag around my middle (it’s a fanny-pack type), and walked north on The Embarcadero. I took the entire four hours (before the return ferry ride) to wander up to the Hyde Street Pier and back. Not that I didn’t rest at times along the way. I had a muffin at a Peet’s Coffee shop. I also stopped at The Cannery to have ice cream and listen to music.
The solo musician in the courtyard when I was at The Cannery played a wonderful acoustic version of Death Cab for Cutie’s “I’ll Follow You Into the Dark.” Although the lyrics speak of an entirely different kind of lady in black, I was reminded of my traveling companions on the ferry…
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
“Son fear is the heart of love
So I never went back…