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2003-04-02 - 12:52 p.m.
On Tuesday, people were hounding me for another update: see what happens when you update more frequently? It's NEVER ENOUGH. Typically, those who clamored the loudest were people who don't even have online journals, and that definitely smacks of some universal axiom. Still, to try and placate them, I took a shot at writing an About Me entry, then I took a shot at writing why I don't have an About Me page. I'm not happy with it, but I am posting it now just to spite everyone. People, people! Ask yourself, would you rather have regular entries of marginal interest, or sporadic entries that, God Willing, are fun to read? It's the Conan O'Brien paradox; you either get one excellent Simpsons episode each week or five nights of mildly amusing but forgettable celebrity chats. **********************You may wonder why I do not have an "About Me" page. It's because it would change too often. Taken now, I could be a productive worker, but in a month, I'd have to change that to unemployed nobody with an unemployed spouse-thing on the fast track to homelessness. One year back, About Me would have described someone completely adrift, without friends, a job, or a hometown, experiencing a torturous married life. A little before that, I might have focused on the effects of what was once called "supercommuting" (though there was nothing super about it). There are many other befores. Who knows where the Wheel of Fortune will set me down next? Not me. All these changes are superficial, you say? The Me that is Me was Me before, during, and after all these various upheavals? That is an even better reason not to include them in an About Me page, then, so as not to confuse who I am with my geographic location or current demographic group. But, since I have not yet had a defining event in my life, superficiality is all I've got. The only things that are fixed are my being a member of the generation named X, and my left-handedness. I like drinking water. I grew up liking water from the kitchen sink, out of a non-aerated faucet whose stream of water looked like an icicle that I could dip into. When I moved out, I liked drinking water from tiny wasteful Dixie cups pulled from a plastic dispenser. I have liked putting a cup of water in a glass-paned freezer, waiting until the tiniest shell of ice formed on it, then making a tiny perforation in the ice to sip from. I have liked ice cubes in many forms, from crushed ice to ones that resembled pats of butter to ones shaped like penne pasta. I like glasses of ice water on white tablecloths, with the light shining on and through it. I like Panna, even though it is hard to find, possibly because it is hard to find. I like how different countries have different national brands of bottled water, from San Benedetto in Italy to the rainbow label I saw all over Israel. I save the labels.
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