This morning as I went off to work in the darkness, I was able to see through the partly cloudy skies and see a glorious moon in the sky to the west, and I smiled to myself as I got into my car and drove off. When I arrived at work there was a bit of a mystery to solve, in that the lights were on in my office but the door was locked, and my chair was suspiciously out of place. I kept the matter in mind until my coworker arrived some four and a half hours later and asked who had cleaned his desk. When I commented that the office light had been left on last night, he commented that he had locked the office and turned off the light when he left, meaning that we now had a mystery to solve: who had been in our office, and what were they trying to do there. Needless to say, in the absence of evidence, it was difficult to do more than speculate, and it is interesting to note just how quickly the speculation turned a bit dark, since there were few people who would have the key that would open our office, or possess the want to use our computers, since they were logged off, but it is a mystery that is begging to be solved nonetheless.
Today seemed to be quite a day of mysteries, far more than usual. I’m not sure what it means, but as I enjoy mystery I decided to roll with it. A coworker asked me for an example of Chinese phone numbers, which he had been unable to find online, and I used my mad Google skills to find a number from Shanxi province to him. At least that mystery was more easily solved than most, in that upon following up with the coworker he stated that he was being asked to build a portal for Chinese college students looking for health insurance. Other mysteries from today were more personal in nature, such as why someone from the United States was searching through my profile for my posts and book reviews related to PTSD and sexual abuse, one of the constellation of posts that tends to put me a bit on my guard, seeing as few people have any interest in that sort of subject, and to find someone very interested in the subject is somewhat alarming. Although, as I wrote it and put it out for the world to see, I should not be surprised if people were curious about the subject from time to time, seeing as my personal history is one of those elements that clears up a good deal of mystery about who I am as a person.
Recently I decided to listen to some of the negative reviews about the Harry Potter play  and there were a few worthwhile takeaways from it. For one, not everyone is as enamored with the idea of time travel as I am. Of course, I see nothing wrong in principle with imagining the possibility of changing the past, although the repercussions of it could be pretty harrowing. Perhaps there is more I would like to change or prevent happening than is the case for most people, though. For another, though, it was interesting to hear the reviewer’s take on what made the Harry Potter novels distinctive, and that was the fact that they were mystery novels. Now, I happen to be very fond of mysteries . Perhaps a bit too fond, mayhaps. This is worth some explaining, in that when you take out the fantasy elements of Harry Potter’s world, what you get is a mystery, where one big mystery is solved during the year because our brave heroes are so inquisitive and so unconcerned about the rules. At any rate, seeing the Harry Potter novels as mystery novels, set in a mysterious world, makes it all the more clear why I am fond of them, even given the elements about that world I find unsavory.
Many of us happen to be puzzles or mysteries to be solved, but all too often we are cold case that no one wants to solve. I have tended to find that everyone has something about them that is interesting and worthwhile if one will give them the time to reveal themselves. This has meant that my enjoyment of the company of others is much greater when they reveal aspects of their mysterious nature to me, and somewhat bored or irritated when all they have is a certain narrow window that deals with subjects like politics or auto repair, rather than opening up a window to what really makes them tick. Next to my bed there is a bookshelf that includes a fair amount of books that I have been slowly working my way through, and also a lot of puzzles. If I had the flat space, I would work through them one by one, and ponder on the way that I too am made up of puzzle pieces that people put together in very different ways, some of them alarmingly accurate and some of them equally alarmingly inaccurate. But unless one knows the picture that one is aiming at and sets the boundary with the edge pieces, how is one to come up with the correct puzzle in the first place?
 See, for example: