Let's face it. This isn't about games anymore.

So, it turns out that my wife's boyfriend likes the Calls for Cthulhu show. Not a huge raving fan or anything, but he does like it. That's kinda weird.

What's more weird is that he likes video games (huge WoW fan) and wants to talk about how games are made, what the process is like, how console programming is different from PC programming, and stuff like that. It seems really strange to talk to him about it.

But the weirdest part of all was that he's a big Civilization fan. Well, I'm working on Civ right now, so I asked Sid for an autograph, and gave it to him. I mean, sure it was a small nice thing to do for someone, no big deal for me, and a big deal for him. So from a rational standpoint, it was all cool. I'm not an angry person, not vindictive. I don't blame him for what happened between my wife and me. There's no reason I shouldn't do something for him, if it's in my power.

But it does feel strange to be doing nice things for the guy who tried to break up my home.

Like everyone says, I don't update this enough. It occurs to me that huge changes have taken place, which I really should have written about.

First off, I found someone. She's actually someone I met on Mindsay, some of you guys know her, so for the moment, I'm going to keep her identity close to my chest. The most I'll say here and now is that she is wonderful, kind, shockingly supportive, and my best friend in the world. And hot - did I mention hot? And those legs, the way she walks when . . Anyway.

We've known each other for a few months now, met here right after my wife and I split up. Our relationship is moving, by any normal standard, way too fast. Thing is, she has such maturity, and we've both been hurt in relationships before, so we are taking everything so carefully, it doesn't really matter that we're moving too fast. My co-workers say that I am totally crazy. I can't reply in any way other than to shrug and say that, logically, I can't think of any reason why this wouldn't work.

But now it gets weird. Yesterday, (wednesday 4/16/08) the wife flew out here with her boyfriend, so they could rent a truck and figure out what they want to take.

If you've read the other stuff on this blog, you'll know that I don't really bear any animosity for my wife. I don't agree with her decisions, but I think she's doing what she has to do (and, without trying to sound like a dick, I think I'm better off . . .).

So, yeah. It's not like there's any fighting over the sofa or anything. I mean, she does want one of the XBoxes, which is a little painful, but then again, I've got three of them. I can't really complain.

Anyway, so she's staying with her boyfriend in the guest bedroom (I wouldn't send them away to a hotel, not when the guest bedroom is right there). And right now, while I'm at work today, she and her boyfriend are packing up stuff with the help of my girlfriend . . .

Yeah, this isn't weird at all. . .

I'm in a large concrete shack with vaulted ceilings, where dim lighting exposes a small circle of people sitting so close to each other their knees are touching. Each of them holds an African drum between their legs. The smell of incense is missing, but the air is redolent with it. The light scent is pervasive without offending.

When we entered this back room, with its orange concrete walls and polished hardwood floors, we took off our shoes. Everyone else kicked off their slippers. I however, unworthy intruder that I am, had to unvelcro tennis shoes before entering.

There are only enough chairs for the worthy, so I sit cross-legged against a wall and watch.

Between sets, they discuss posture and stretching the hands to prepare for the intensive drum sessions. The teacher is a spindly youth, with glasses, a beard, and bells on his feet. There are three women and one man in the acolyte circle. They range in age through the 30s and 40s. Jeans and casualwear abound, except for the man, who sits in a business suit, jacket thrown over the back of his chair. He uses his lyrical British accent to impress upon the class the fact that slavery caused the migration of music.

The drum itself has really only two sounds, a thick baritone from striking the center, or a tinny tenor from tapping the edge. The only other way to change the sound is to strike harder, varying the length and volume of the sound.

But this isn't really about the sound that one drum makes. By giving each person one specific rhythm, they can combine and mesh, fading in sections, then releasing them.

It's the rhythm they are studying, not the sound. They are learning how to work together, how to hear each other, how to predict. The teacher calls this a "life skill" and I'm not sure everyone knows what he means.

But I see one student swaying with the music, eyes closed, with hair hanging over her face. I look over at the wall where they keep the yoga mats and the tiny Buddhist shrine, and I think there's something beautiful here.

I would not be here, sitting against a wall in this tribal room, feeling the percussion in my bones match the beat of my heart, if I were still married. That's not an accusation, but rather a joyous recognition of what my life may yet be.

There are many drum circles. There are dances. There are plays. There are games. There are sports. And there are people. Oh, so many people.

Okay, this is going to sound like I'm joking, or mocking. I am doing neither. I'm honestly curious about this.

 

In the last few weeks/months, Junior Senator Hillary Clinton has been deriding Barak Obama for his lack of experience. In some situations, she has made fun of him because he seems to trumpet ideals over experience. The insinuation there would seem to be that experience is more important than ideals.

 

But if that's true, why don't the Democrats support McCain? I mean, he has more experience than either Clinton or Obama. If the argument holds water that experience is more important than ideals, shouldn't the Democrats be able to put aside their ideals, and embrace an experienced Republican?

So, I was pretty obsessed with my wife before the breakup. Luckily, we were seeing a marriage counselor who, although he couldn't patch together what was so clearly unravelling, did manage to help me see my obsessive problem, and deal with it in a healthy manner. All the same, I may not be obsessed, but I am still really lonely.

I've met other women, been out on a couple of dates. Nothing serious. I mean, it really couldn't be serious, could it? After a relationship of seventeen years, everybody else is going to look like an abject stranger. Or maybe I haven't met the right girl yet.

Either way, it doesn't matter. The point is that I'm alone, and needing to get used to that.

For the first few weeks, it was the physical loneliness that bothered me the most. You'd think that, with my wife spending five days a week in another state, I would have become accustomed to being physically alone. In a way, I am. But for some reason, when we broke up, my lonliness felt different. It was no longer a condition that I had to bear for just a few more weeks, months, or years. Now it's permanent. I was suddenly thrown into a desperate need to touch anyone, hold any warm body so I could go to sleep at night. You'd think that would be the hardest part about the breakup.

It's not.

Neither is the emotional loneliness. I've got a dog. Yeah, I talk to the dog. Bite me, the dog looks at me and acts like she understands, which is better than I can find from a grocery store checkout clerk. I can get by with the emotional estrangement (at least, until I start thinking the dog is talking back).

No, for me the hardest part is the new things I cannot share.

Recently, the project I'm working on passed a pretty big milestone, and I got a nice bonus for it. Far more than I'd really expected to see from them. As soon as I heard about it, I rushed to tell . . . who? My ex wouldn't care, my co-workers aren't that close with me, and all my online friends know me very peripherally. So who could I really share it with?

(As an example of just how bad this is, I actually did call my ex to tell her about it. She steered the conversation to finances, and how I could declare the bonus as my property, rather than splitting it with her. A kind thought, but not really what I was thinking about.)

Then yesterday, our company (Take2) fended off a bid from EA for around $2 billion. I may be working for EA soon, they may downsize us (and they may not, it's paranoia talking now), I may have to find another job out here. I may have to find a job back in Austin. My whole life, which had been getting progressively more stable, is now spiraling out of control again. So I rush home to talk to . . .

Nobody. Nobody can help me think through this situation. There's no one to weigh my choices with, no one to argue the benefits of each side. I can handle the idea that I have to take responsibility for my life. It's just the idea that I would need to do it all alone, without anyone I can talk to, bounce ideas off of. I want someone I respect to say, "Yeah. This makes sense. This is a good plan."

That's the worst part of the loneliness. The idea that I have to make decisions on my own, without any cool, calm head to advise me. That part of being alone scares the shit out of me.