[Previous entry: "Dont shoot quail; shoot Quayle!"] [Next entry: "Procrastination"]

I often have the tendency to demonize myself, especially after the whole lying-cheating-deception trifecta I endured when the person I called "the love of my life" dumped me for some fast-talking used car salesman type. But, it's often nice to know that you've actually made an impression, you've changed someone, a person is different (and indeed) better for having known you.

I got an email from an old friend. I haven't talked to her in six years, aside from the email every two years or so updating each other, often very factual and polite. But, she not only emailed me, but also took the time to write about me recently. I quote:

"Today I stumbled across the blog of an old acquaintance, someone who used to challenge me, who made me watch (and bade me love) Heathers and read Ayn Rand, who was always full of questions, who probably thought I never had answers. Someone who challenged me by making me feel insecure, who brought out the worst of my introversion."

First, it's very cool that she prominently uses one of my favorite Eliot poems. Prufrock is an implicitly nostalgic poem, full or dread and trepidation. But, still there is hope, an ascending of the staircase, towards better things implicit in the process of suffering.

Times like this make me nostalgic. I think about the things that were said and unsaid in my current situation with "Amy" (apparently Thena's new pet name), and the endings always make me think of the beginnings, the good times I had with people whom were there for me before I could point out Tampa on a map, and indeed have greatly shaped what I have become. I owe a debt of a thousand "thank you"-s to many people, which I have so far neglected to repay.

I had a great time with her, and I was probably not the most caring or affectionate person back in those days. Hell, I'm still not. We didn't part on the best of terms. I feel deep remorse for the way I have treated a lot of people at times now past, Miashell included.

But, it strikes me. At times like these, I'm glad to hear a voice pointing to my (many) character flaws as a reason to enjoy my presence, not a reason to leave it for another. But put quite frankly: I needed to hear something like that right about now. Now, I've had plenty of people around recently trying to cheer me up, and I'm not trying to downplay them. But, for someone who has no explicit reason to track me down, and to do so, means something more valuable than all the idle praise I might receive from my parents, or my students, or my colleagues, or my friends.

Not the least of which is the prominence of the source. She is, as she notes, also pursuing a Ph.D., and all the while encouraging the minds of young feminists and radicals, scholars and activists, friends and lovers, rekindling the same lessons we both learned from Sr. Meg Causey and Michela Walsh).

Thank you, Miashell. I miss you.