Ms. E, my English Literature teacher for my last 2 years in high school was very influential during that confusing period. The characters in the stories, the emotion in the poems, and the spirit that came abound on those written works of art she had craftly presented to a rowdy class of '96 - all came alive. Even until now, most everyday events of some considerable gravity can be related to, say... a chapter in the Iliad.
Lord Byron wrote the poem on the subject line in a state of melancholy. It was deliberated in Literature class that it was meant to portray his new resolve - no more free spirited approach to life and loves. He was living an existence akin to a contemporary rock star.... apparently, even that got tiring. Lord Byron presented this poem to the modern world in his as he broke into his 30's.
Just recently had a conversation with a good friend about the changes that do happen at that transition. She had a somewhat jaded view, which did not help an equally demented me. On the surface, men and women, acquaintances and relationships, facts and opinions - evolve, or so is the ideal. "Not really, they (men) don't," she says. I mostly listen. "Hmm," I would say every once in a while - almost agreeing. At what point do people get that point of enlightenment and say, "I'm done." I only wonder because more and more details lead to the [truth] that age is not the only measuring stick there is.
Roving to Rowing
I miss being on the Charles River. There was a time, not so long ago, when I will be rowing down those murky waters and loving every minute of it. I still do - I just hadn't gotten a chance to schedule accordingly. There were bigger projects that got me sidetracked from that plan. My schedule and running program goals just does not leave me time to do it anymore. Plus, I have to renew that swim test certificate.
Crock-of-bull[bleep] excuses.
I picked up HJNIY as a light read, almost as a joke between Kam and I. Laughed at the pseudo-situations and scoffed at some of the comments. But that thing ruined me, because I lost my sense of rationalizing. The premise of that book was that: "If [he] really liked you, [he] will find a way to come and see you and doesn't matter if there was a tornado warning head-on." Made me think, if I really wanted to pursue rowing, I would make it work no matter what. First 3 years into the sport I lived in Wakefield - a good 40 minute drive home from the boathouse. I ate my dinner on the way home after practice... while driving a stick-shift. I would even go as bold as to say that I decided to move to Cambridge, partly for that reason - to be somewhat close to the CRI Boathouse.
While running the other day, I ran past the Mass. Ave Bridge where several crew boats were practicing. I was back in that same state of mind as I did several years back when I first got into rowing. I recall stopping in my run to see the boats go and thought to myself, "Quiet agression. I like that."
On that recent moment of deja vu, I thought: "I need to be reminded of how good that felt. I have to get back." Carried on with my run humming Dirty Water in my head.
Which reminds me...
Sox-Yankees Series, NY bags it 3-1
http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/news/gameday_recap.jsp?ymd=20050717&content_id=1135031&vkey=recap&fext=.jsp&c_id=bos
Good effort on their the attempts to revive the scoreboard towards our favor - but it came up short. Still fairly optimistic for the year, more so than I actually was when the bases were full at no outs on the bottom of the ninth. Still think that: Nixon should have just been allowed to run straight home when he stopped at third, and that call for Alex Cora on first base should have been a safe. But what do I know...
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