Warm, but not hot, here in Providence. There's a nice breeze from the south/southwest, about eleven mph. The sun is bright through the office window, shining through the leaves of the tree we saved.
Yesterday, I had to get my passport photo taken. My passport is my only form of photo ID, as I don't have a driver's license. In my old passport photo, taken in January 1996, I look maybe twenty five, though I was, in fact, thirty two. Looking at the new photos, taken fourteen years later, I look, at the very least, my age. Every year of my forty six are there in the photo, and maybe a few more than that. My preternatural youth slipped away at some point, some moment, or over however many years, when I wasn't paying attention. More than anything, I look at these new photographs and see exhaustion, of several different varieties.
Being sick the last few years has surely taken its toll, as have the insomnia, so much time spent in front of this computer screen, one particular person who shall here go unnamed, my general inactivity, and, well...yeah, I'm not a kid anymore. I wasn't a kid anymore in 1996, but some part of me still thought I was and would be for fucking ever and ever. Looking at the photos last night, 1996 and 2010 side by side, I resolved to stop playing that game. Here I am. I was born in 1964, and here I am today. I will age with dignity, and not cling and claw desperately to something I lost a long time back, just because society has a hard-on for youth.
So, that was yesterday. That was the important part of yesterday.
There was also some very good rp in Insilico, Molly and Xiang (X 1.5, id est Grendel) in their squalid, cluttered little room in the Skygate Motel. I think, after six months, the Xiang AI has achieved its primary directive, and ended the beginning of its journey towards humanity. It's actually a pretty good story, half forgotten and half scattered through a hundred rp transcripts. Xiang is, I suppose, the inverse of what the transhumanists think they want. She is a transmachinist. Molly's something else, something broken and left for human, and still has a long road ahead of her.
Spooky and I slept more than eight hours last night, which is nothing short of miraculous. We didn't wake until after noon. And here is today.