We are We

Dear J-

I’ll bet I know more about the people on train 102, southernmost bike car than I do about cooking at home. San Mateo: that guy’s getting out at Sunnyvale, the other one at Lawrence. Sometimes the guy who gets off at Redwood City is there too. Hayward Park and Hillsdale: those two guys who work for Stanford Maintenance. Belmont: the lady in scrubs, she gets out at Palo Alto too. So on and so forth; it was a long day yesterday and another long effort today will get me to where I need to go, although I do have to set up an appointment/meeting at some point. Business and opportunity; simple things will make your life easier.

It’s really more of a damning statement about how little cooking I do, although I do it passably well if my hand is forced. We fall into our little patterns and me having to do it all yesterday makes me think I should help out more in the evenings; that’s a lot of work. The forced perspective trick is pretty useful, hey? We have our own view of what happened in the past and it’s easy to keep yourself needlessly wracked by guilt when in fact you may have been able to save yourself some worry by just talking, or even doing the proverbial mile in their shoes. No one knows all the answers all the time, even those kids with perfect SAT scores, so it’s useless to feel jealous that way.

I’ve been pondering this since last night; you choose your battles and whether to be angry and outraged or not, whether what’s happened is too much or the last straw or which straw is the last one you counted and doesn’t that seem pretty arbitrary any way? You choose whether to look at the world in a sympathetic light or when to pass judgment on people you don’t even know but for their actions (by my deeds shall I be known?). At home? Poopy diapers? Not a big deal. How about this: at home, bringing Ferguson into the living room via the news and what’s happening there amidst the words and prior history and tear gas? You define your attitude.



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