4/30/2017 ‒
The more we build a community

In those exceedingly idealized versions of the world we live in, it doesn't matter who you are or where you came from or what you believe in - we can all get together.

But that isn't the case. And even if it did, we will, sooner or later, manage to break it.

It's really just how we are, come to think of it. No matter what we say, or what we write, or what we believe, we will find a way to break it. Yes, let's all get together, but no, not really. We'll impose some criteria, some unspoken criteria. We'll turn this whole thing into a numbers game, because knowing more people, having more people at our beck and call - wouldn't that be nice? We'll want to look better so we can have more numbers, and we'll only want to have the right people by our side, and then, boom. It's broken.

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4/28/2017 ‒
Some things must go

I now have three travelogues (roughly) in my head, and I have not had the time to get down and write them. I am actually forgetting some important details. It's a desperate situation.

Unfortunately I have moved to the point where I write long essays than encompass multiple narratives, rather than vignettes and short observations. I don't know. I guess I'm finding it fun, the whole journey thing, coming into this thing and sticking with it throughout its twists and turns. But then, this is something you read, and you can get off any moment. Like, right now. Jump in one of those twenty-nine other tabs or something.

Well, that takes time, of course. And, once again, I'm writing about how I don't really have time these days. So now I have all these thoughts for essays that stay thoughts, all these thoughts that come up randomly, get formed somehow, and then get parked again. Too many thoughts these days.

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4/13/2017 ‒
Muscle memory

I looked straight at her face and noticed, for the first time, that she smiles a particular way.

Granted, I have not really met Mika a lot of times. This must be the third. The first was when I waited for Dia Frampton. We forced ourselves to spend some time together because there really wasn't much to do, and the conversation, at least on my end, was awkward. We're not complete strangers, but we only really talked through tweets before, buoyed by common friends and, arguably, common interests. And then, this.

The second time, I was treating her to lunch. A few months prior we had a bet. Something about American Idol. I had long stopped watching the program by then, as I had moved to a new job, but it was all still recent, so I predicted that a guy would win again. She thought a girl would. She won, so lunch was on me. The resulting conversation, at least on my end, was awkward, or perhaps it was because I was dwelling more on the fact that I am treating her to lunch because I lost a bet. She paid for dessert anyway - that frozen yogurt place has long closed - so I guess that's fine.

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4/04/2017 ‒
Another birthday missed

A good ten years ago Arlene said that she will never forget my birthday.

It didn't stick with me because I'd gladly take anybody remembering my birthday. It stuck with me because that told me that I should not forget other people's birthdays, too.

I'd like to think I exerted some effort to do that. Facebook was a good tool to remind people of when you're born, at least until people hid their birthdays, perhaps in a bid to determine who actually remembers their birthdays. (I don't see the point.) I remember a few years ago when I went through all my friends' birthdays and put them on my phone. Every year I would get a reminder, down to the age. I'm still a sucker for specificity.

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