Always Between Never

Always Between Never
The electrons that ripped through the sky in California in the recent winter storm took the form of lightning — this could be a symbol if you want it to be. I wish it so, so I'll tell you what I heard in that flash of static that washed out of the radio speakers when the lightning stabbed the sky.

Before the music came back, I reminisced about the electrons that our minds churn for constantly, the muse of the technology industry. For example, in all of the following happenings — Electronic News recently said "NEC is to Boost Wafer Production At Shanghai Plant," ednmag.com asks you "Conventional DSP or configurable microcontroller: which way to go?" why isdmag.com recently announced that "FSA Announced New Slate of Board Members," and why EDAC has an "Annual CEO Forecast Panel" on January 31, 3001 — the constant, among other things, is electrons.

Electrons are always there, tugging at technology, its companies, products, and the dreams of a lot of people — like the moon tugs at the current beneath the sea. So, I thought about the effect of these particles on my radio, my profession, and realized that, like many important things, they were always and never there — it was only in the brief respite from my radio, when they effected my thinking, that I chose to think about them at all. Yet, when I heard the thunder followed by the spark of light I remembered that these bits of energy are always around. In the same manner I considered the transparent particles that move the electronics profession, I thought of things that I did — the events that have always and never taken place for me.

I never did those pushups on my birthday. I never wished the man at the booth good luck when I finished taking a flashing key chain from the bowl in front of his stomach. I never convinced my Aunt to come to the family reunion. I never turned the volume down when I left the door open at the office. I always ate lunch between 11am and 4 pm. In the morning, I always depressed the accelerator till it contacted the red carpet beneath the steering column. I never learned Verilog.

I never grabbed my stomach with two hands and jumped up and down in front of my window at work. I always closed the door. I never sat up straight. I never asked her what her name was. I never thanked the PR people for all of the nice Christmas cards. I always answered Sy Wong's emails. I always appreciated a conversation with Jim Ashborn. I never wrote enough. I always liked the Am chord. I always asked "explain it as if I don't know anything about it." I never was impressed. I always bit my fingernails. I always liked Clive "Max" Maxfield's book, "Bebop to the Boolean Boogie." I never finished reading it.

I always kept curious. I never minded condescension. I always liked the idea of the "Porch Dawgs." I never heard them. I always knew there was something to finish. I never knew when to end it.