If you can't take the heat...
This could be brief.
Upped sticks briefly and headed North to assist in educational bruhaha. Kids arrive tomorrow, lessons commence Monday. Lord only knows what I'm going to say to them. Lessons only vaguely ready. In a very transitive sense at that.
But blow me, isn't it hot in here? Computers humming away. Oh the thrill of a memeplex.
Mnemosyne
A day full of memories.
Most clear, probably because most recent, is my memory of the girl I used to see on my way into school each morning. Most mornings. Weird, how in a city like this you can still see the same people over and over again simply by travelling at the same time each morning and standing in the same place.
Anyway.
She had a book. About A5 size, although I was not then as conversant with paper sizes as I am now (thankyou temping). A blue, school note book, if memory serves (and I think she does). She got on the train before I did and got off afterwards, so as far as I knew her life, she spent all her time writing in the A5, blue, school notebook. She leant on a briefcase on her lap and, hunched slightly over it, would scrawl away on the pages of the book. I remember thinking that the ballpoint pen would probably be marking the pages behind, if not the briefcase itself. I remember how fluently she seemed to be writing, not ever (so it seems to me now) stopping to consider, to compose, completely ignoring the people either side of her. I never got to sit next to her, so I have no idea what she was writing. It could have been work, I suppose. Hurridly finished reports, notes or lessons. She smiled, though, as she wrote. As if she were pleased, as if she were enjoying her own composition.
I'm not smiling. Maybe I should smile more when I write. Maybe that would make a difference.
I imagined her writing would be big and curly and overly cursive. So that the words were only sometimes distinct. Friendly, but private.
That's what I was thinking about on my way home tonight. Dinner with friends. Playing goosberry towards the end. Ah well.
So. Green tea finished in one warm, sleepy gulp and off to bed. I gave the backs of my hands a good staring at on my way back. Let's just see.
Night.
Hard to make a good beginning...
I've been thinking a lot about memes, recently. Hence all this.
Seem to be moving into the thinking thing seriously now, in a career-driven kind of way, so I suppose that's ok. To be thinking at all, I mean. "Good practice". Also nice to be thinking about things that are at least connected, if perhaps not fundamentally integral, to my latest career-move.
But you don't know about that yet. Unless maybe you do. Anyway, we'll let introductions wait.
So yes, lots of thinking. Lots of relevant thinking to boot. More directly relevant to the next few years of my life than my tesseract phase anyway. I'm not sure I could live up to a blog called "TESSERACT". A project for calmer times, perhaps.
Nights like last night always put me in a strange mood. Days like today serve only to amplify it. A day spent entirely and completely alone.
Toute seule, as the French would have it, barring a few phone calls. A very nice day too, spent lounging (sleeping) in a hammock, reading this week's New Scientist (which has managed, and not for the first time, to centre around things I have been considering. Nice to know I'm at the cutting edge. Nice to be carrying such up to date memes.) and eating salad for lunch. Hardly scintillating stuff, but pleasant. A sudden and very loud burst of Beethoven's 9th to keep the neighbours on their toes. All good. All, as they say, gravy.
Yeah. So.
I suppose that'll do, for a very tentative opener. No talk of memetics yet. Sorry if you were hoping for some. A few transmitted with the post, though. Hard to avoid, Particularly when delving into the ultimate memeplex, the urspace of the meme; the Internet. This is, afterall, what it was designed to do. All those other memes owe the webmeme a great deal. Meme meme meme.
Don't worry, I'll probably be talking about tesseracts tomorrow.
