not for sloth

What a lonely blog. More neglected than anything else, since there has been just too much going on. If I use this for anything, it's a benchmark, and there's probably no greater benchmark than the number of days you have lived on this earth. So here I am, at my 24th benchmark (That's 8,765.81277 days in case you wanted to know), on this blog.

For continuity, I will leave a similar picture to when I turned 20. A similar image, but a slightly different context (in a better way).

Because this time, this scene has the person I was missing the first time around.

And this time, we'll never have to part.

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Addendum:

Today's Bible verse on my Mac

1 Corinthians 13:8

"Love never fails."

Apropos.

Prospects

Exciting news for 2011 coming soon!

A Memory

There was an event of some sort, in the M common room.

I think we had just finished eating in the dining hall, and as we were walking out, the group was cleaning up.

There it stood. A collection of about a hundred balloons, framing the entrance door. A balloon arch with nowhere to go, but the trash.

So we saved it. And offered to take it to our high-ceilinged room. A with one end, and me following behind, we walked out the door into the brisk night...

And then we started to run. To flatten the arch, of course. But it felt like we were on a chase, and a long bubbly dragon was flying above our heads. Holding it was so effortless, as if it were pulling us along. We passed one or two moonlit silhouettes, but we continued to run across campus, in front of the clocked tower, between the mirrored stone buildings, through the darkened trees. Faster and faster we ran until it lifted us up and we were suspended in air amidst the stars for a few breathless moments, looking down upon the silent campus.

We finally arrived at our hall and ran up the stairs that wrapped around the elevator like a far-too-long caterpillar, until it was safely in our room. It stood for weeks, first standing tall, and then...slowly, slowly drooping towards the earth, but reminding us of the night that we got to fly.

A Bookstore

Nestled on the hilltop neighborhood

of Santa Teresa,

surrounded by ominous dark trees,

we stepped into the warmth

of this inviting bookstore

for a spot of cafezeinho

at dusk.

Brazil

Traveling once again!

It has been so busy this past month that I haven't even gotten a chance to enjoy the pre-departure adrenaline.

But here it is! It has been a dream for oh, I don't know how long, but I am finally going to Rio, and I've been listening to bossa nova non-stop for the past few days. I'm probably longing for the Rio days of old--or perhaps even a Rio that never existed, but that's the soundtrack I want when I'm sitting on Ipanema.

Mannnny pictures and words to come.

Two small boxes

(Her own mother, she said, had been an inspiration: she died at 101 with only two small boxes to her name. “She gave away things for years,” Lydia said. “You have to stop accumulating, and start clearing out early.”)

From the NYT

This really struck me as soon as I read it. It reminds me of Boltanski.

Whose Law?

I just got my mind rocked

about the real culture gap

and how we dropped the ball

rather, tossed it aside

gave it up

somewhere along the way

when State becomes salvation

when the dots don't connect

but instead grow larger and larger

into giant potholes

with no safety nets

and people fall and are diminished

to meaninglessness.