It’s my birthday today. I’m turning 33. Only 33 more years until I am 66.
Once I got past the big round 3-0 – I kind of have to remind myself how old I am by subtracting the year I was born from the year I am in – and then figuring out if I am before or after August.
Age, which was so important for a while, is becoming more of a fluid concept. At least as long as I am the second youngest person (still) at work. (Only by 20-something days, but… )
I’ve already had a co-worker tell me, “you’ll understand it when you get older.”
Probably not. But today is my birthday, and I am on holiday, and I will sleep in and try to figure out how to get all my stuff to fit into my new apartment, and possibly head to IKEA to make myself crazy.
Everything in the universe, and everything of man, would be registered at a distance as it was produced. In this way a moving image of the world will be established, a true mirror of his memory. From a distance, everyone will be able to read text, enlarged and limited to the desired subject, projected on an individual screen. In this way, everyone from his armchair will be able to contemplate creation, in whole or in certain parts
– Seeing forward from the early 20th century
– Cataloging the World: Paul Otlet and the Birth of the Information Age by Alex Wright
Then an academic, a Nigerian woman, told me that feminism was not our culture, that feminism was un-African, and I was only calling myself a feminist because I had been influenced by Western books. (Which amused me, because much of my early reading was decidedly unfeminist: I must have read every single Mills & Boon romance published before I was sixteen. And each time I try to read those books called “classic feminist texts,” I get bored, and I struggle to finish them.)
– We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I’ve spent almost the past month (it feels like) boxing up my books and movies. I went to my local wine monopoly store and asked if I could have some of the empty wine boxes. (My new neighbours will think I am a drunkard if they spy all the boxes going into the flat. )
If I can unpack the boxes fast enough, I can unload them at work for a move we’re doing there.
I have reached the stage where I can actually see an end to all the books and movies. Now all that remains is the rest. My clothes. The kitchen stuff. All the odds and ends that I have put into drawers over the years as I have lived here, and never looked at again.
It is time for the stage of the packing which likely won’t have me stopping up every 10 minutes going: “Hmmm, it’s been a long time since I’ve read that.”
Well, he read in the strangest way. I mean, I could never read unless I’d have a rainy afternoon or a long evening in bed, or something. He’d read walking, he’d read at the table, at meals, he’d read after dinner, he’d read in the bathtub, he’d read—prop open a book on his desk—on his bureau—while he was doing his tie. You know, he’d just read in little, he’d open some book I’d be reading, you know, just devour it. He really read all the times you don’t think you have time to read.
and am currently waiting to see if my loan application go through. Signed the contract on the house yesterday.
The bank gave me a pre-approval for a sum before I went hunting, and I am actually applying for less loan than I was pre-approved for. So, theoretically, I should be ok. Still a jittery process. Waiting. Waiting.
I move in June.
I started packing. I have packed a (large) box of dvds and three (smaller) boxes of books. I am almost unable to see that on the shelves. May is going to be a long month.
“There is boring. There is sensational. There is mediocre. There is lazy. There is good. There is evil. People do implausible things all the time, and they run the gamut of moderately weird to truly extraordinary. But there is no normal. The world is an unbelievable place full of unbelievable people doing unbelievable things.”