Not Grateful

Dear People,

Do you even read this blog anymore? I did start writing here over seven years ago as a way to update friends and family about my life. Now it seems I’m talking to empty space. A void.

I miss the details about your lives. I miss being involved. And present. And I realize what I signed up for when I returned to school, but I didn’t fully understand how much it would change everything.

Are we even friends anymore? I don’t recognize what this is, us.

Maybe I’m having trouble correlating my absence with the obvious consequence of delayed gratification. I’m used to being in the loop, instantly and constantly. Even when things were strained between us, when we were in the same room, at least we could share the elephant that stood in the middle of it.

Everything about all my relationships is palpable to me. They have texture and dimension. And when they seem to sublimate before me, I worry.

Is it really as easy as “Out of sight, out of mind”? It can’t be, else I might as well take Occam’s Razor across my wrist.

A Compromise

Well, I guess the world now knows I can survive a whole week without chatting and texting. Not really much of an accomplishment; probably ticked a lot of you off. Better yet, a lot of you probably didn’t even notice. And that just goes to show how much or highly I think of myself. One’s world is awfully lonely when it’s egocentric.

Starting Friday, July 30, I’ll allow myself to send 35 texts a week. That’s five texts a day.

Two hours of chat a day. It may not be at the same time every day. It may be split up throughout the day.

This doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Amuse Me

A white board hangs on our front door. Sometimes the roommates write interesting things on it. Yesterday I happened to look at the door and found these two ideas wrestling:

I can’t identify the handwritings. Two different people, out of the three who live with me. I could figure them out easily enough. I pass through the kitchen all the time, and often I do the dishes just because it’s nice to have a clean surface for my food to ass on. I’m on about three hours’ sleep today, and that apparent curse word in the last sentence was a crude and pretty tacky derivation of a French word, but right now it’s pretty dang funny, and all I can think of is how my professor says that 60% of English vocabulary comes from French, and so many layers of meaning seep through words by learning another language, intensifying and expanding my power to communicate. Muah ha ha ha ha! But here, in this instance, I just visualize sitting on a plate of food.

Much easier than trying to reconcile the white board.

No wonder the French are so skinny.

Weighing In

Sending a text didn’t even occur to me.

We just received our second midterms in class today.

With the two-point curve: 99.5%

Without it: 97.5%

On paper, I’m the ideal French student.

In practice, it’s gross.

The well-rounded Frenchie should be able to listen, write, and speak proficiently.

I can do one of those things moderately well.

But that’s because I’ve practiced a long time in English.

The listening carries over – I have to focus in French as much as in English. I’m lost otherwise.

The speaking – well, I don’t talk a lot in English, so I expect my talking to be pretty crappy.

The grade’s exciting though, eh?

Day Four

Yeah, four full days. With texting, I’ve found not too much of a difference. I’ve always texted more than received texts, but that’s because I’m pretty nosy and annoying. I understand that screening texts is far less guilt-inducing than screening calls. For me, it’s also considerably less offensive, just because the frequency of my texting can reach ultra-obnoxious levels. I’m very aware of this. Also, people have lives of their own and usually can’t be bothered. Besides, I don’t text more than a handful of people on a regular basis. If the news is urgent or important enough, an actual phone call will occur. Just last week I rang a couple of friends to tell them about the flash fiction contest. It was cool.

About a month and a half ago, I mass-texted a bunch of people I haven’t spoken to in a while, something like: “Hey, just checking in. Hope you’re well.” One of those people ended up calling me, and we talked and laughed for half an hour and arranged to meet for dinner later in the month.

Not chatting is a little more difficult, but it’s getting easier.  Before, I would click on a person’s name just to say hi, even though I have nothing to talk about. The brief contact is fun. The instant gratification has spoiled me.

Same thing goes, here: I’ll just send an email. If I’m not near a computer, I’ll call and leave a message.

If the person is busy, the email can sit. The phone call can wait.

If the person doesn’t use email, I’ll call. Or I’ll write an actual letter with paper and pen.

I’m reverse-plowing into the 20th Century: linear time can suck it.

I’ll ride out the rest of the week. Then I might consider cutting back with texting. Having entire conversations via my thumbs sounds more absurd every day. People don’t really need my texting as much as I’ve needed to text. But then again, this need is progressively decreasing.

Three weeks would change the habit. Hmm. If I can do one week, I can do two; if I can do two, I can do three. We’ll see.

I may resume chatting completely, however. I’ve dispensed/received advice and discussed papers/stories/etc. pretty effectively this way. Still, it’s nothing an email or phone call couldn’t achieve.

Am I alienating myself by doing this? No more so than usual.

Oh, Google, What Do You Think You’re Doing?

I received an email from a lawyer today. It kindly requested I correct some information about the person the attorney represents. After I made the necessary edits, I replied:

Per your request, I did correct the reference to [the person] in my blog, mayiwrite.com. The edit was according to the designation you provided, [the designation]. Please confirm this correction or advise to omit the name altogether. I’d be more than happy to do that.

There is another mention of [the person] on my blog, besides the post where you commented. It happens to be in an anecdote from one of my readers. If you scroll down to the comment of [this post], you’ll see [the person’s name]. If I should do anything with this particular comment, please let me know.

It was never my intention to offend or misinform. I apologize for any oversight.

Thank you.

May Anderton

The esquire promptly replied, thanking me for making the change. He also said he read through some of my other entries. He said they were interesting and that I am an excellent writer. Keep up the good work, he said.

This whole situation is a pretty big deal, because our favorite search engine listed my blog as third from the top when I typed the person’s name in the window that dares me to find anything I absolutely want in the whole universe. How does that even happen?

My bad information could have turned into bad blood.

Very interesting experience. Always learning.

Hilary Hahn – Interview in French

This interview dates back to 2006. Hilary is about three years younger than I am, so at the time she was 26 or 27. (Her birthday is in November. And I was a very enthusiastic follower once upon a time.)

Girl does most of her touring in Europe, so it makes sense that she knows how to speak French. And German. But French here. Skip over this entry if you wish. The interviewer and she speak slowly enough for me to understand most of their conversation. It’s great how she’s not ashamed to ask about a word she doesn’t know. I love how in part two she avoids using the word email and goes for its purer form, (un) courriel. L’Académie would be proud.

Also, the Paganini/Spohr is a great album.

Vodpod videos no longer available.Hilary Hahn – Interview in French Part 1, posted with vodpod

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Status as of 26/07/2010

I broke down and sent one text this morning, about 30 minutes ago. It was more or less to confirm plans for Thursday night. An old French classmate and I are going to see her voice teacher / my friend from New York City perform in a production of 110 in the Shade at the Hale Center Theater in Orem. I’ve already heard this girl sing – I know she can wail – but I haven’t seen her on stage. I’m very excited. I missed the run when Audra McDonald performed, but I already saw her last summer in Twelfth Night in Central Park for Shakespeare in the Park. She’s lovely. And she’s perfect in the film production of Wit with Emma Thompson. I’ve tried to get a few of you to see this film with me – I own it and everything – to no avail. It’s an amazing film. Sure, it’s depressing as hell, but very well done.

A few people texted me this weekend, and I didn’t respond. Sorry about that. I usually send about 10 messages for every three or four I receive. I did make up for it by leaving a few messages and talking on the phone with a friend for over an hour. It was hard leaving my phone alone, but I figure if I can last this week without texting, I might give it up for lent. I prefer human voices and somewhat thoughtful emails. Kind of takes me back to 1996 when my life was so, so much simpler.

Another short story is in the works. I’m at 3,300 words, and it feels about 60% done.

Oh. I’m having a crisis of faith.

There’s that.