Still no progress in increasing intestinal fortitude. Nothing else to say on the topic except for holy Hindu cow, he gets cuter every time I see him.
Oh, and I of course get less and less attractive. I bought new shorts at Walmart the other day because I would have to do laundry like every three days otherwise, but the new shorts I have show sweat like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The general idea I get from the world is this: shirt sweat is fine, shorts sweat is not. So I’m disgusting. Haha.
He’s still really cute, though…. In two weeks, the guys have a tournament in Alabama and about ten or eleven girls (including me) are accompanying them, so hopefully at that point I will be able to come across as sizzling-hot, hilarious, witty, and intelligent. (The chances of this happening are slightly increased from normal because at least Miguel will be several states away from me. So the odds go from 0.0% to, like, 0.7%.)
On a totally different, less self-centered note, I was flipping through the poetry section of WordPress and stumbled upon this video of a spoken-word poem. Even if you don’t read the rest of this post, watch this video.
Like the person who posted this video, I am hesitant to say anything for fear of sounding ethnocentric or condescending—both of which I hope are never characteristics attributed to me. But whenever I see anything like this, or read books concerning the same topic, or watch television shows centered around the epidemic of both AIDS and poverty in Africa, I feel like I hear something. We talk a lot about vocation in C&CT (which from now on will be my abbreviation for Communication and Critical Thinking), and on and off throughout my entire life I’ve felt a sort of calling towards that continent which is such a melange of cultural richness and physical poverty. Is that where I am meant to go with my life? Because, somehow, every other possible plan for my life eventually sounds hollow, but I keep coming back to the into-Africa idea. A particularly deep set part of me wants more than anything else to do something where I can fully dedicate myself to other people, not as a sidenote to my professional career but as my professional career. Even if I didn’t end up in Africa specifically, some other impoverished area of the world would be just as meaningful. I just want… to have make a difference. Not one that will be recognized with a Nobel Peace Prize or a mention in a history book, but in the lives that are improved and continued because of me. I don’t want to be remembered, but to have a legacy larger than myself live on after me.
I guess time will tell.
The New Infamy 