sometimes i am a jerk. what can i say – it has always come naturally to me.
my jerk-dom takes many forms, and while i have tried over the years to minimize the appearances it makes, it still bulges out between the seams of my personality occasionally.
last night it made an unwelcome house call during a discussion with Elaine about some short stories i’m writing (i’m still learning how to internalize constructive criticism). today, it reared its ugly head when she and i were weighing various moving options (although, in my defense, i will say that moving is as stressful for me as, say, flying standby from SFO to JFK on Thanksgiving weekend).
i have no excuse for my lame behavioral ticks. sometimes i’m just really mystified at my own behavior. life’s really too short, after all, to be wasting time with such nonsense.
almost every american alive knows what happened two years ago today. each generation seems to have this moment, the one where we can say, "i remember where i was when i heard…"
each has probably thought of those events and their effect, both on our lives and on the lives of others. these reminiscences and the emotions they inspire are intensely personal; i would never presume to guess how others experience their grief or anger or sadness or hope. my memories still bring acrid, angry tears if i decide to let them come.
in memoriam to those who died, in the towers, in the air, and in the belief that what they were doing was somehow the right thing, i present a list…a list of eleven of my everyday things, because what happens every day is what probably matters most in the end.
i didn’t know that black holes can sing. it’s kind of irritating, though, that stars (and other black holes) are the only things that will be around long enough to really enjoy the show.
[side question: would john cage think this was cool, or would he be jealous that his symphony won’t last as long?]