score: a direct hit

>> Thursday, July 10, 2008

I actually just got coffee in my eye. It came back up at me through the little hole in the plastic lid of my disposable cup. I am too impressed with the chance accuracy to be irritated by it. It's also a reminder that I should have been using travel mug, which sits on my desk unused for days on end. At this point it's more of an accessory, an announcement to all who stop by my desk that I went to a much better university than they did. Of course, they probably then measure this fact against their (significantly weightier) experiential evidence that I'm actually kind of an idiot. The end result is that I am single-handedly bringing down the reputation of my undergraduate institution. I do feel a certain amount of guilt over this.

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this was a heartbreaking year

>> Saturday, July 5, 2008

an uncle of mine passed away this year. It happened the same day that Benazir Bhutto was assasinated. My mother woke me up twice that morning, the first time to tell me about my uncle, the second time to tell me about Bhutto. Only the second shocked me. My uncle was only about 10 years older than my own parents but had not been in good health. Still, it was unexpected.

The two youngest of his three children live here (in this country). I haven't spoken to them except to offer birthday wishes as those came up. We're not particularly close, but I'm not very close to any of my cousins (since most of them are far away). But I'm always far away, even from the ones who live here. At the time I told myself they wouldn't really care to hear from a cousin who had always been on the fringes of their life anyway, that they would prefer to be surrounded by close family and friends. Now, of course, I regret not saying anything at all.

This year (meaning since September - I measure all my years in school years) was never going to be a good one. You can feel them coming on, and by the beginning of November I knew. That's when I found out that my high school English teacher was dying. I thought about him every few days and thought about writing a note to tell him how much I enjoyed the classes I took with him (three) and...well, that's as far as I ever got. He passed away within a few weeks.

It's a good thing these years end in the summertime, otherwise the whole effect of them would be too sad. I'm reading again (three books at a time), making plans, and behaving more or less as usual once again. Except that I feel much older now than I normally would in a year. And suddenly I find that I know everything there is to know about things I had never really thought of before.

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this here ma blog.

I like to talk about things I have no particular expertise in. Especially music.

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