A few unrelated observations:

1. I’ve installed Windows Vista Beta 2 and the betas of the various Microsoft Office 2007 apps. Apart from some mild inconveniences related to sound (Windows didn’t detect my AC97 audio and I had to manually install the drivers), things have been smooth. I am pleased with Microsoft’s latest offering, and IE7 and the newest Media Player are the best yet. If only I hadn’t deleted the partition table on my data drive, life would be great.

2. Shannon has been doing her best to fix me up with a cute vendor who occasionally stops by the office … she just needs to find the unmarried ones. Hint, hint. 🙂

3. My grandmother is preparing to move into a condo. She and her husband built their house more than 30 years ago, so it’s the only home of theirs that I’ve known. To be sure, it’s sad to see the “ancestral home” move to a new family — there’s something vaguely disconcerting to have such a rock of stability suddenly moved about — but this is good for Granny. And, I now have the chance to make new happy memories at her new condo.

4. Esse est percipi. Berkeley’s famous phrase — “to be is to be perceived” — is a philosophical touchstone of metaphysical idealism. But it occurs to me that there’s a less profound meaning to the concept, too. I do not ordinarily fuss much about my appearance, but I realized last week, as I was driving around, that some of what I had been doing was intended to foster a certain perception of me in the minds of others. When I realized what I was doing, I felt a bit foolish — but the temptation was powerful, and I viewed the seductive nature of peer pressure in a different light. When the goal isn’t to be one’s self, but to convey an artificial sense of self to others, the whole ethos of pop culture becomes much more obvious.

5. My dear friend Tony passed the bar. Woo hoo! I never doubted he could do it, and I’m quite proud of his accomplishments over the years.

I moved into my present accommodations about three years ago. At the time, I was quite pleased with the apartment complex and my new neighbors. The property was quiet, the relations distant but respectful, and the scenery (overlooking a duck pond) tranquil.

I’ve learned that for most of this time, the complex has been operating at less-than-full capacity. This has recently changed, however, and I’m curious as to whether property management lowered their standards to effect this increased occupancy rate.

Over the last six months, there has been a noticeable increase in the number of new residents who act as if they’re the only people in the building. Foot traffic (e.g., stomping) has been a constant nightmare, and now there are people everywhere — by the pond, at the door, on balconies — playing loud music and holding very public cell-phone conversations about fights, drinking, who’s cheating on whom, and court dates. In a grating patois of English, Spanish and “urban slang.” Twice in the last six months, I’ve had to call the police on noise disturbances from my neighbors.

A year ago, I would not have been too worried about leaving my door unlocked. I didn’t always know my neighbors personally, but we knew each other by sight, and there’s a certain comfort in that. Now, though, I don’t recognize many of them — and of the new residents, I feel as if I’ve stepped into a climate marked by a much lower degree of socioeconomic development.

My growing apprehension about my immediate environs is matched by a certain frustration about the economic development of Kent County, Mich. Historically, the suburbs of Grand Rapids grew counter-clockwise from the southwest, starting in Grandville and moving around through Wyoming/Kentwood and then to points north, along the East Beltline. The “West Side” — consisting of Walker and outer Grand Rapids on the west side of the Grand River — has been the last to grow, but the outer ring of suburbs is now effectively closed.

It looks, though, that the process is beginning again. I’ve been driving lately to points south of the Grand Rapids metro area, down to the Kent/Allegan county line. It is astonishing to see how many McMansions are popping up in developments in heretofore rural area along US-131, in Byron Center and various points south. Whether this is a function of the M-6/”South Beltline” development or the next phase of growth in the Grand Rapids area is beyond my ability to predict.

Yet, it raises the ugly specter of a long no-mans land between the revitalized urban core and the new, wealthy suburbs far along the periphery. I’m not sure there’s a coherent plan for ensuring that the miles and miles of developments in between don’t slide into decay.

Just three years ago, for example, the two strip malls by my apartment complex featured reasonable retail establishments. Those have gradually been replaced by a variety of check-cashing fronts, tanning salons, and other harbingers of socioeconomic malaise.

Perhaps this means nothing; perhaps I’m simply viewing my surroundings in a new way because of the changes to my own circumstances. Even if so, the signs of decay are growing. Will we, as a community, have the prudence to avoid the decline of metro Grand Rapids?

I am eager to see how this plays out, although it will soon be from a much different vantage point.

The weekend before last, my church celebrated the First Communion of several dozen of our young parishioners. I was in attendance, as the sacristan of the Mass.

After the Mass had concluded, I was attending to the removal of the altar vessels to the sacristy for cleansing when I was stopped by two young women. Two young women who happened to be classmates in high school.

I graduated in 1994 and really didn’t maintain much contact with those people. Partly because I didn’t much like many of my classmates, and partly because I am highly skilled in the art of allowing personal relationships to grow dormant.

Yet, it was a great pleasure to see Anne and Michelle again. Anne had an infant, and Michelle was excessively pregnant with her second.

I’ve seen and heard of other high-school classmates over the years. Many are married (or divorced) and have children. Some have moved on to respectable achievements; others, despite their early promise, have faded into middle-class obscurity.

Makes me feel old.

Here’s the million-dollar question: When you feel that you’re being tossed without mercy upon the stormy waves of fate, what do you do?

Over the last two weeks, five of my closest friends have confided some degree of epistemic ennui about their lot in life. To varying degrees, they feel adrift — that they’re not on the right path.

I suppose most people have been similarly situated; I know I have been. With great fascination, I am watching each of these people work through their self-doubt. Each has a different level of self-understanding; each is taking a different approach.

My counsel to most of them has been relatively simple: When you’re lost at sea, sail in a straight line until you find the shore.

It’s interesting, though. I’ve long been of the opinion that contemporary culture and human nature have been increasingly at odds, and that at some point, there will be conflict on a massive scale because of it. The basic human tendency to roam, for example, is more and more limited by the anchors of modern society — things like credit and criminal reports that cannot be outrun, and relationships that linger beyond natural levels. We have built a society intended to elevate us above our base natures, but which has isolated us from most of our instinctive behavior. A correction is inevitable. I think part of a correction occurred during the first half of the last century — genocide and war are rooted as much in psychology as in politics, and the brutality of the Holocaust and the genocide in the Balkans and Rwanda can be explained succinctly in terms of collective outbursts of aggression inexpertly pent-up by modern society.

On a personal level, my friends are struggling with their identity in a world beyond their control. Perhaps, just perhaps, the problem is less with them and more with a society that has grown too far beyond many people’s ability to reconcile.

Once; coincidence. Twice; perhaps something to think about.

On Good Friday, I was browsing (ultimately unsuccessfully) for new shoes at a local Target store. As I was scanning the shelves for appropriate footwear, a young man — my age, or perhaps a few years younger — walked up to me and asked if I attended Western Michigan University. I suspect that my brown-and-gold “Western Michigan” T-shirt may have been a clue. Long story short, my interlocutor and I spent about 10 minutes talking about absolutely nothing, including the state of WMU’s philosophy program and the sorry state of US-131 in winter, at which point he gave me an inkjet business card and suggested I call him sometime to check on whether there are any “openings” in his self-run business.

OK; perhaps he is young and inexperienced and thought that chit-chatting for 10 minutes in Target’s shoe department is a good way to find new employees. Unlikely, but stranger things have happened. And it’s entirely possible that in the course soliciting these potential new recruits, he thought it prudent to tell nothing about the fabulous opportunities that await potential employees except that he’s in the “health products” industry. Perhaps.

This evening, as I was browsing the book aisle while for groceries at the local Meijer store, another young man approached me and started talking about the weather, launching into five-minute give-and-take about our respective jobs. In this case, though, the young man (probably in his mid-20s) was almost certainly flirting with me. Which was a shame, since he really was quite good looking, and a charming conversationalist to boot.

So … twice in less than a month. I lose 110 pounds, change my personal style, get out more … and I get hit on by gay men.

It’s a good thing I’m easily amused by irony.

Two weeks since the last entry. Two very busy weeks. A few recollections may be in order, in no particular sequence.

1. Today, I completed my annual eye exam. No change to my vision status, but I had an interesting few hours after getting some eyedrops to dilate my pupils so the doctor could check all of my retina. The impact of the drops was such that, with my contact lenses in, I could see just fine at a distance, but things up close were blurry. Since my close-distance vision is better than 20/20 uncorrected (I only need lenses for distance vision), it was quite an experience to be reversed like that.

2. I recently took up running. In January, I ran four miles my first time out (and paid the price for it, with inflammation). I started again two weeks ago, starting more sanely at one mile, then two, then three, then four. Yesterday I ran six miles, the first time at that distance, in about 54 minutes — which isn’t great time, but given that two years ago I couldn’t climb three flights of stairs without becoming winded, this is quite a victory. Although I’m going to be extra-protective of my knees, I’m finding the running to be enjoyable and physically rewarding.

3. My cousin Callista is coming home soon, after spending a year in France teaching English. I look forward to her swift and safe return.

4. Holy Week and Easter are over … and what a relief! I spent about 10 hours at church on Holy Saturday in preparation for the Easter Vigil, not to mention the time spent preparing for Holy Thursday, the Good Friday liturgy, and the extra stuff surrounding Palm Sunday. Holy Week 2006 went well at my parish this year, and I look forward to debriefing with my colleagues on our parish liturgy commission.

5. Work has been interesting. Duane and I are conducting some “getting to know you” meetings with the key management and administrative staff in our division. So far, so good.

I ran into my second-grade teacher yesterday.  We chatted for a moment; quite pleasant.  She said something that gave me pause, though:  “I always knew you’d be successful.”

Well, now.

I suppose, all things being equal, that I’m not doing too bad.  I have a roof over my head in a rather pleasant apartment complex.  I have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a happy vehicle to drive.  Life is good, I suppose, even though I often wonder about what might be, had I not made certain decisions in my youth.

And yet, decide I did.  And although certain doors were closed to me, others were opened, and I don’t think I have paid sufficient attention to the good while I lamented the bad.

It’s humbling, though, to realize just how much of my background is dependent on sheer luck:

• The defining aspect of my undergraduate years was my involvement first in the student government at Western Michigan University (the Western Student Association), and then my time at various appointments at the Western Herald.  Yet had it not been for a random call from the WSA chief of operations to join the student government leadership for a retreat (before I had even stepped foot in a classroom as a college student), I never would have participated.
• My volunteer work at church would never have happened had I not received a casual invitation from the guy who would eventually become our deacon, to join in lay liturgical service.
• Had it not been for a series of short-term temp jobs, I would not have been qualified for my current job — nor would I have thought that I could do what I’m actually doing.
• My interest in ethics, the field in which I actually earned my degree, was originally raised through casual conversation about “superenlightened egoism.” 
• Without my friend Duane, I probably would not have actually done anything — except think wistfully — about my writing.

My comfort is a function of my luck; there is a great deal of truth, methinks, to the “accidental hero” version of history.  Although I have capitalized in certain ways upon the luck that has befallen me, I am acutely aware that I haven’t really earned most of what I have.

I’m lucky.  But at least I know it.