look, it’s 01:32, and the notebooks in the pits of my drawers are not enough for the horror that is tropical disease biology studies…


I wonder, when you decide to voice your questions, when you send off your impressions, when you speak or write or type, out of the blue, to your unsuspecting peers, is it done with an obstinate hope that you will receive at the very least any kind of response? A measured reply, despite the overwhelming standard of there seeming to be so few who would not only appreciate the question, but would consider an answer at all.

In a manner that is self-deprecating, I think, I have been hunting for forms of connection that are more opportune for people who would rather not engage in anything so “aggressive” if “cute” without first throwing their daily habits into disarray. For whom such randomly expressed vexations of admittedly pretentious proportions pose as minor amusements, surprising puzzles, forms of performance art, and above all, a craving for approval–the latter, undoubtedly, many of my hurriedly scribbled down remarks are, but more, I suppose, a form of reassurance to myself that it is fine if I cannot help myself. Rather that than a kind of validation that is supposed to instill in me, over and over again, my sense of self-identity and worth. That would be very silly, don’t you think? But it is to be expected that more often than not we will seem silly regardless, and are loved despite of it, than seem as we want to be, and are loved because of it. So herein then, ought we not to give free reign to the expectations of others, and to our own, and tailor our contentment accordingly?

From there has emerged, I reckon, the infamous, “Nevermind that,” for which I am chastised here and there alike. Yet it occurs to me that I do not dismiss so much myself, but what I see as the toil and burden for you to bear if I did not do so.

I have never thought of it like this before, or thought of any of it for the longest time, if only in passing sneer in relation to my own expectations of people. Suppose I have dismissed thinking about it entirely, but wouldn’t that truly be considered as “settling”, after all?



2 thoughts on “look, it’s 01:32, and the notebooks in the pits of my drawers are not enough for the horror that is tropical disease biology studies…

  1. I was surprised how often people were silent in response to impromptu txted thoughts. (The usual conversational maxim “don’t ignore people” doesn’t apply cos it’s still relatively new?) But I love using sms for unconcrete things even without replies – and anyway I *think* they’re viewed in the appropriate way – as friendly invitation to comment, and implicit compliment (“made me think of you”) – so. It is just twitter on a narrower beam, of course, but twitter is ugly and of concern.

    Is it aggressive, though? Because only quasi-personal? Because gnomic? Non-sequitur? Or maybe its being a hybrid of public and private – a little temporary talk-circle at a party – undermines communication.

    The sad thing is how few peeps muster the attentional and emotional reserves to write letters. (In this case, it’s probably down to the paralysing sense that Letters Are Witty and Deep. I’m not blaming modern life or the internet or anything; probably most literate people have always not been arsed about it.)

    As for your alternative connections; how many of them can be done 500 miles away? How many of them require the time of others, rather than just requesting it?

  2. Yes

    I think, is the answer to your question. Goodbyes are always tinged with a little sadness, aren’t they, even if you’re glad you’re leaving?

    This post reads like a signing off on the self-exploration (and world-exploration) that seems to have been at the inception of this blog. I think settlement is a worthy stand-in for conclusion. If you’ve reached a certain contentment and equilibrium, well, be happy!

    Sparing a thought all the same for those of us who enjoyed reading your thoughts, who empathised even while being puzzled, who looked forward to new posts and enjoyed poring over them and their range of quotations and listening material. These questions and ideas have been a source of comfort, intellectual stimulus, and introspection these past couple of years. If this is one is a wrap-up (it certainly reads as one), then so be it. If you make your writing public, remember, then that means you have a public, and you can’t hold it against us if we feel a little sad, maybe even resentful, in spite of ourselves, when the project comes to and end.


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