Earlier, Nancy and I were exercising our creativity by composing an alphabet of despair.
Allow me to demonstrate.
a is for angst
b is for beatings
c is for cry myself to sleep
d is for despair
e is for ennui
f is for failure
g is for
h is for
i is for
j is for
k is for kvetching
l is for
m is for melancholy
n is for negativity
o is for
p is for paralysis
q is for
r is for
s is for shame
t is for
u is for
v is for
w is for weeping
x is for
y is for
z is for
We've had some brilliant contributions. How many letters can you think of?
Showing posts with label conversations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversations. Show all posts
Letter Never Mailed
Saturday, September 13, 2008 conversations, growing up, Nancy
I was flipping through my notebook, looking for my notes on Professor Gordon and Professor Mitani's joint conference, when I came across this instead. It was written, as far as I could tell, on June 18th. It is addressed to you, which is extraordinary because this intimate letter was written before our friendship became cemented by JASC. As it was intended for you, I share it here.
Dear Rachel,
I am writing this on an American Airlines flight to Tokyo Narita Airport. Four and a half hours into the flight. I'm watching a bad romantic comedy about, well, romance. But it's so bad that I neither want to fall in love nor have children.
Oh Rachel. I feel so young and so confused, only pretending to know what I'm doing. Like laughing at jokes I don't understand. I'm waiting for the moment when my deep intellectual paralysis and dysfunction could give way to something a little more presentable to the world.
And it's frightening because there is but one chance to do everything we ever want to do. Ever. And I'm terrified of failing -- how could I not be after growing up with only the knowledge of one lucky success after another. But, to spend a lifetime waiting for the extraordinary that never comes... well, I couldn't shed enough tears.
I am so afraid of being hurt. The human heart and the human ego are the two most fragile things I know. I wouldn't be able to get over a failure on this scale and still be the same person...
It's unfinished. Which is just as well. I fear I need more time to be able to write an optimistic conclusion to this sad, sad pile of fear and insecurities.
Dear Rachel,
I am writing this on an American Airlines flight to Tokyo Narita Airport. Four and a half hours into the flight. I'm watching a bad romantic comedy about, well, romance. But it's so bad that I neither want to fall in love nor have children.
Oh Rachel. I feel so young and so confused, only pretending to know what I'm doing. Like laughing at jokes I don't understand. I'm waiting for the moment when my deep intellectual paralysis and dysfunction could give way to something a little more presentable to the world.
And it's frightening because there is but one chance to do everything we ever want to do. Ever. And I'm terrified of failing -- how could I not be after growing up with only the knowledge of one lucky success after another. But, to spend a lifetime waiting for the extraordinary that never comes... well, I couldn't shed enough tears.
I am so afraid of being hurt. The human heart and the human ego are the two most fragile things I know. I wouldn't be able to get over a failure on this scale and still be the same person...
It's unfinished. Which is just as well. I fear I need more time to be able to write an optimistic conclusion to this sad, sad pile of fear and insecurities.
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