Disconnected

Like most folks I've moved several times throughout my lifetime. Since leaving the house that I grew up in back in '97 I've relocated one, two....six times. I imagine that's pretty common in your twenty-somethings. Moving happens. What I'm surprised about are all the little unexpected things, the quirks and charms of both the new place and the process itself.

The act of moving itself went pretty much smoothly. I'd packed up everything well in advance, gotten help from Richard and another friend, and we knocked out the task in just one trip.

I did manage to knock out one more thing: the mailbox. U-Haul trucks, I've discovered, are difficult to maneuver and have absolutely no rear visibility. I attempted to back the vehicle into the driveway (after a fifteen point turn, I might add) and was clued in that I was slightly off-target by a loud cracking noise, followed promptly by a thud. This did delay the unloading process for a couple minutes, while we all stopped to laugh at my impeccable skills.

But don't you worry. I've propped up my fallen comrade, and will give him an appropriate burial this weekend.

Unpacking is progressing nicely. It'll be a while before true order is restored, but I'm starting to reclaim my stuff. The homestead's beginning to take shape and I can picture where everything goes. Boxes are being slowly broken down, the essential items are all out and about, and I can navigate relatively hazard-free.

The only real pain so far has been getting the cable back up and running. About a week prior to the move I'd made arrangements to have all the utilities switched over, cable included. The plan was for a cable guy to turn off service at the apartment, then just flip the switch over here. Simple, right? No so much.

Sometime Saturday night (and again on Sunday) I tried plugging everything in and got nothing but static. I grumbled a little bit, and just focused on the other projects in the house. No cable or internet, but tons of DVDs and enough work to keep me busy. Annoying, but I could deal.

Monday morning I call up the fine folks at Cox Communications and ask them what happened. Customer Service pulls me up in the system and say that everything's done. I explain that the living room's completely dead, and I'm getting antennae quality reception in the bedroom (around six spotty channels, including oddly enough a second non-local ABC station). They can't get anybody out until Wednesday.

Two days later the technician's here, and he pretty quickly finds the problem: the last tenants had satellite and unplugged/rerouted everything. The tech ended up running new cable and rewiring everything (why he didn't just reconnect everything I'm not sure). It took about an hour and a half to wire up the two outlets, but the connection's great and I've got most of my services back.

Except my old account, that is. While I've got internet and HDTV I'm apparently not the same person I was before. At least that's my theory, 'cause they turned off my e-mail. My profile doesn't exist and the server's rejecting my passwords. Since the account's dead so is my web storage space. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get the blog's banner back.

On the bright side, at least I'm not getting bombarded with spam about my penis any longer (pun unintended).

Buried in Boxes

It's odd knowing that my nights in the apartment are numbered. Four nights from now I'll be sleeping in the new place, my first house -- our first home together, Allison and I. While it will be a few weeks before the us part kicks in, it's still great. Not so much the moving part. But the rest, definitely.

The side effect all this is that the current pad is riddled with boxes. The former serenity has been shattered, and it's becoming difficult to cross the apartment without colliding with cardboard. I don't have much stuff, granted, but I don't have much space either. When you utilize drawers, cabinets and closets five-hundred square feet goes a long way. When you don't...

My question is where does all this stuff come from? I'm at the point in the packing that all that's left are odds and ends. The exceptions -- stuff that doesn't belong in any other box. I don't know where half of it came from. Even amongst the stuff I can categorize and sort there's weird stuff.

...when you buy furniture, you tell yourself: that's it, that's the last sofa I'm gonna need. No matter what else happens, I've got that sofa problem handled. I had it all. I had a stereo that was very decent, a wardrobe that was getting very respectable. I was so close to being complete.

I have a turkey baster. Never in my life have I had a need for one. Not once have I gone, "Hmm, I wish I had a turkey baster." It wasn't a gift, I didn't purchase it, it's not stolen. It's just here.

The funny part: it went into a box.

Cliff Notes

I owe everybody some content. There's a huge gap here that I need to fill, and I hope to get that taken care of in the coming days and weeks. But tonight I'm tired -- so you get the Cliff Notes.

- Back in September, as I mentioned, I went to Florida to meet Allison. It went well. Very well.
- On that same trip I took the scenic route home, stopping in Houston for a few days to visit John and Mike. Also good stuff.
- In November, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, Allison ventured out to California. She'd never been to San Diego, so I gave her the dime tour. We did touristy stuff, visited with most of my friends and (most importantly) spent as much time as possible together. Allison returned to the Land of Humidity (tm) a few days later, and parting at the airport was more difficult the second time around.
- In February I made another trip out to Florida. Somewhere around this point Allison and I finally got fed up with the long-distance thing, and decided that we needed to close the gap. 3000 mile commutes suck.
- Allison and I talked for a while, and decided that we were ready to move in together. Florida, being Florida, lost the battle (it was pretty much a no-brainer). The exodus would happen sometime in the summer.
- The Move is scheduled for June 1st. I'm flying out there, and the two of us will drive home together. To our home.
- On the return trip to California the two of us will make a pit stop in Evansville, Indiana (her home town). We'll spend a couple days in her old stomping grounds (since we're not sure when the next opportunity will be) before setting our sights on the west coast.
- I'm moving in less than two weeks. My current studio apartment isn't going to cut it. I found a three-bedroom house for rent in Oceanside. Deposits are paid, boxes are packed, and we're slowing approaching D-Day.

With moves there's (obviously) a lot of things that need to happen: finances, logistics, schedules. We're at the point that everything is pretty much set. Now it's just a waiting game, and the dates are closing in. This is a good thing.

The new chapter's getting ready to start.

224 Days Later

So, yeah, it's been a little while. I hadn't realized just how much time had passed until I pulled up a calculator and did the math. Then came the double-take.

Dead Body: I'm not dead!
Dead Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead.
Man: Yes he is.
Dead Body: I'm not!
Dead Collector: He isn't.
Man: Well, he will be soon. He's very ill.
Dead Body: I'm getting better!
Man: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.

I've gotten some gentle (and no so gentle) prodding from a few folks, wondering what's been going on with the page. Tell you the truth, I just haven't really felt like doing anything with it. At first I just didn't have the time. After a while, though, the reflex to blog about something just...stopped.

Dead Collector: I can't take him.
Dead Body: I feel fine!
Man: Oh, do me a favor.
Dead Collector: I can't.
Man: Well, can you hang around for a couple of minutes? He won't be long.

A lot has happened since the last entry. Hell, the Blogger interface even changed! Once I figured out how to use the new one (and switch everything over to my Google account) I decided to ease back into things.

Man: Well, when's your next round?
Dead Collector: Thursday.
Dead Body: I think I'll go for a walk.
Man: You're not fooling anyone, you know. Isn't there anything you could do?
Dead Body: I feel happy. I feel happy.
WHACK
Man: Ah, thanks very much.
Dead Collector: Not at all. See you on Thursday.

I have returned. Tada and stuff.

Wow

Yeah, that's how I'd describe the first leg of my trip. Things couldn't have gone better in Florida. Amazing covers it pretty well.

I've been in Houston since Tuesday night. While I'm happy to be hanging out with John and Mike, I find my thoughts keep dwelling on Allison. It's going to be a while before I can make a swing back out to Cape Coral. So, in the meantime, I'm stuck doing the long-distance thing.

It's a lot harder now. There's now something tangible behind the voice on the phone. Sure, I'd seen pictures before heading out, but that's not quite what I'm talking about. I spent more of the time basking in her little mannerisms, sharing stories, and just getting to know a very special person. Those were my souvenirs, and they've made things very real.

I'll talk more about my trip (both legs) in a couple of days. I just wanted to let everyone that I'm safely in Houston, and that I had an incredible time in Florida. Oh, and I've cancelled my subscription to eHarmony.

Travel Prep

The adventure begins this Friday!

For the past couple of years I've been watching the number of available vacation hours grow and grow on my paychecks. I'd use just enough to get the pool back down to a "safe" level, never doing anything special. I've taken a day off here, a week there, but it's never been spend doing anything memorable. Maybe catch a movie on opening day, or lounge around the house for a couple of days. The last substantial trip I took was around three years ago, when I helped John trek out to Houston.

I found a good reason to venture outside of California once again: Allison. A little while back I mentioned some promising activity on eHarmony and, well, here it is folks. I'm not sure why I haven't really mentioned it to anyone -- I think I was afraid of jinxing something. The two of us have been talking for a couple of months now, and it's gotten to the point that a face-to-face is in order. I'm really amazed how well we've been connecting up to this point. We'll see how things go when I arrive in Florida.

And, because I'd be hunted down and killed if I didn't, I'm making a swing through Houston on my way back to Southern California. I haven't seen John in a couple of months, or Mike since his ill-fated wedding, and I'm well overdue to catch up with the both of them. Plus, it's my turn. John's been back home a couple of times over the years.

Two vacations rolled up into one! Both legs of my trip have the potential to be very, very memorable. I know the boys are already plotting stuff to do in Texas, and I've got a great feeling about meeting Allison.

Oh, and I've decided that the Department of Homeland Security will only let deviants fly nowadays. This concerns me. I don't think I qualify, but I've already bought my plane tickets. Why am I concerned? In preparation for the flight I visited the TSA (Transportation Security Administration) website to check out the Permitted and Prohibited Items list. There's been a lot of fuss lately in the news about Homeland Security (don't get me started!), so I wanted to cover my bases and avoid any issues getting through all the checkpoints.

I'm officially annoyed that they've banned all sorts of liquids and gels. Yeah, I understand why, but if someone's really willing to play junior chemist on the plane and blow me up with their toothpaste, well, more power to them. You'd think someone would notice the prep work on that one, but what the hell do I know? Regardless, it boils down to the fact that I can't board with any sort of toiletries, so my plan of not checking any luggage is pretty much shot. I feel a George Carlin rant coming on, so I'll just skip past all that and highlight some of the items on both sides of the list.

Prohibited Items:
- Shampoos and Conditioners
- Toothpaste
- Deodorants (gel or aerosol)
- Lip Gels (Carmex, Blistex, etc.)
- Mouthwash
- All Creams and Lotions

Permitted Items:
- Cigar Cutters
- Corkscrews
- Personal lubricants (up to 4 oz.)
- Gel-filled bras and "similar prosthetics"
- Tools (wrenches, pliers, screwdrivers - 7" or less in length)
- Safety Razors (including disposable razors)

Sounds like a party, eh?

I really wish I could have been in one of the meetings where officials debated on some of this stuff.

Full Circle

This is me, one year later.

Yesterday marked the first anniversary of this little opus of mine. I was surprised to realize that. Where does the time go? It's been a great year, one filled with plenty of happiness and change, humor and triumphs, self discovery and rantage. Who would have thought that this blog of mine would have lasted as long as it has?

But it has. It's grown, as have I, into something that I'm proud of. This forum has allowed me to gain some clarity and perspective, something that I'm very grateful for. And rumor has it I may have even entertained some folks in the process.

I don't know what tomorrow will offer, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

Metamerism

In addition to making me sound smarter than I actually am, tonight's title references a concept I've been studying for work, one that has seeped into everyday life. Why? Because I like to think about stuff.

Metamerism is a term that pops up in the world of Color Management. Believe it or not but color is not as simple as one would think, and controlling it requires both careful planning and a little finesse. There's a science behind it all, filled with enough logarithms and obscure equations to make my brain hurt. Luckily there are folks out there with doctorates in the field to do all the heavy lifting.

While I don't need to be an expert, a passing familiarity with the concepts and theories has become a professional necessity. When things break I need to have a basic understanding of how they work, so I can communicate with the guys that live and breathe this stuff. So I decided to grab a book and start studying.

Simply put, metamerism is a phenomenon where two different color samples produce the same color sensation under certain viewing conditions, and a different color sensation under different conditions. Translation: Colors change based on how they are observed (different lighting = different color), and by who looks at them.

This relationship can create issues when you're trying to match colors, because you cannot always predict the perceptions of your audience, or environment they're going to view the work in. It's all about perceptions and expectations.

Here's where my thoughts shifted, away from work and back into the personal life. If we all perceive events in different ways, so how much deviation is there between two accounts of the same event? How well do we translate to each other?

This all leads back to a romantic thread, but I won't say anything more than that here, except that for the first time in years I see potential in something, in someone. I'm just trying to wrap my head around what it all means. Who knows?