January 2011
2 posts
Now is the winter of our discontent...
made glorious summer.
Mustiny. It’s a beach. Every trial must necessarily exist for our benefit - for so sayeth the book of life. I look forward to the summer - for now, perseverance.
There should exist some sort of trial quota; when filled, others are disallowed from hurling any further trials at you. A turquoise T, rather than a scarlet A.
Thanks, Johnson, God.
4 tags
Dad
The last conversation I had with my father was over the phone, a month before I never saw him again.
He called to wish me a happy birthday, and asked if I had seen his e-card yet (i hadn’t). I told him I had (a futile attempt at lying to my dad? some things never change). I updated him on my looming finals week schedule. He laughed, asking if the subtle subtext was hinting for a hang-up;...