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The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget. |
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Thursday, January 8, 1998
Today at work I used Microsoft Netshow to watch some presentations that will be given at Web TechEd in a few weeks. They were being previewed today so the speakers could practice.
I find this to be a very useful way to listen to technical talks, especially these all-day conferences or technology previews. Some topics are very important to me, some aren't. With a Netshow presentation, I can listen with half an ear, and see a (postage-stamp-sized) video. I can do other work, and just pay attention when needed.
The most amusing part was the fact that mikes were live for about ten minutes after each presentation ended. Nobody said anything bad, but it was obvious they didn't know they were "on the air."
* * * * * * * *
Tonight was the night my sister M---- and I were going to meet up with my brother. I had somewhere I wanted to be at seven thirty, but I figured this was more important. M--- picked me up and we drove to the espresso place where we were going to meet him, and a strong, calm male friend was also supposed to be there. My sister neglected to tell this friend that he should come inside the place, rather than wait for us on the sidewalk, so the entire conversation with my brother took place while the friend was outside!
It was strange seeing him. He looks well, not puffy as he has in the past when drinking. His teeth are in bad shape from smoking and neglect. We all sat down with our lattes. Conversation was awkward, because M---- and I were waiting for the friend before starting in on what we really wanted to say. So we chatted for a few minutes, and he talked about his hopes for jobs and stuff in Seattle. Then M---- got down to it.
While we wish K--- well, we really don't want more frequent contact than we had when he was in Virginia. I don't know what it would take for me to feel comfortable with him in my life, but it hasn't happened yet. The strange thing was, he recognizes that he has done bad stuff to me in the past, but he doesn't understand my sister's attitude at all. "That's pretty cold, but if that's the way you want it," he said. He may not be drinking much now, but the whole AA making amends thing hasn't sunk in with him. He doesn't get it, that the combination of his bad behavior and my parents' problems has affected all our lives!
Unfortunately, he'll be living right in my neighborhood, at least for right now. The idea of running into him when walking to the grocery store creeps me out. The whole thing makes me very sad. So after a few minutes he said goodby, and went walking back to the rooming house where he's staying. My sister and I reassured each other that we were doing the right thing, even if we do seem like first-class stone-cold bitches to him.
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So the whole thing didn't take long, and my sister was able to drop me off at my latest dance thing after all! It was the first lindy hop class held at the Russian Center by Chris Chapman and Jen Paur, two members of the Swing Kids club at the UW. The Russian Center is a former neighborhood movie theater, now converted into a community center type of deal. A good sized dance floor, with the novelty (to me) of mirrors on the side walls, to distract you while you dance. At least one partner was watching the mirrors and not looking at me!
The class was large, about 75 people! We spent the entire first class on the Charleston, which is the easier part of the Lindy to learn. Then there was lots of good practicing at the dance afterwards. I enjoyed sharing my little bit of Lindy knowledge with one young man and his partner; he was an experienced lindy dancer, but she wasn't, and the follow's part is a bit different than the lead's. It gave me an excuse to dance with him as she watched closely, trying to pick up on what I was doing with my feet.
The activity put me in a better mood! I walked through a fog that was just on the point of freezing. The small change in altitude from the dance hall on 19th to my street at the top of the hill meant there was frost on the cars when I got close to home.
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