congratulations, and i'm truly sorry
mah jongg money, december 2001-present
2007, boy, i don't know. 2006 was a year full of big plans and spectacularly painful disappointments, 2006 kicked me in the teeth so hard that i spent most of 2007 just trying to roll with the punches. it's hard to think of anything particularly good or particularly bad to say about 2007 because i spent most of it being a spectator in my own life. it was, if anything, my year to be phil, and not even have anybody to be a disaster with.
but the whole reason i started making this post every year was to remember that you can get through something, not accomplish much of anything and it's still not nothing, you know? i talked my way into a big, fat promotion, i had a moving day so smooth and painless that i had time to go see a movie, i got a tattoo of a design that i sketched myself on a piece of notebook paper, i watched my favorite baseball team win the world series. i definitely cut some proverbial weeds, and 2008 is gonna be better, even if i have to pull a querada and throw myself through a sliding glass door."You know," Phil mused, a distant gleam in his eye, "they can take away our land and everything on it; they can force us into submission and slap our wrists from here to Mongolia; they can blow us off the face of the earth if they want to. But no matter how rich and powerful they are, they can't wipe out the moments we've had, the odds we've beaten, the memory of six hundred kids marching out to cut weeds!" Phil was on his feet for this last statement.
"Sit down, idiot," Sam intoned.
"Phil, that was beautiful," said Simon.
"Beautiful, but useless," Sam agreed grudgingly.
Phil sat down, nodding sadly. "Yeah."
They walked in silence for a while, then Phil stopped suddenly. "Where are we, Simon?"
"About three blocks from your house."
"No, I mean where are we really? I mean, what have we accomplished in these three months? Antiflux is going down the drain, you lost the Vishnik Prize, and I'm marking time waiting for someone to hand me a one-way ticket to Greenbush High. Wendy was a disaster, Barbara was a bigger disaster, and I didn't even have anyone to have a disaster with. Even Sam, who won himself a prize, isn't that happy about it because he's still got a serious hang-up about painting camels. We didn't do so hot, did we Simon?" Phil stopped walking again. "I mean, think about it Simon. What have we accomplished? Really?"
Simon shuffled uncomfortably. "Not much, I guess."
Phil looked at him. "Then why was it all so good?"
-- Gordon Korman, Son of Interflux
happy new year, everybody. may you all have all the hockey sticks you need to build all the fences to get you where you want to go.
2007, boy, i don't know. 2006 was a year full of big plans and spectacularly painful disappointments, 2006 kicked me in the teeth so hard that i spent most of 2007 just trying to roll with the punches. it's hard to think of anything particularly good or particularly bad to say about 2007 because i spent most of it being a spectator in my own life. it was, if anything, my year to be phil, and not even have anybody to be a disaster with.
but the whole reason i started making this post every year was to remember that you can get through something, not accomplish much of anything and it's still not nothing, you know? i talked my way into a big, fat promotion, i had a moving day so smooth and painless that i had time to go see a movie, i got a tattoo of a design that i sketched myself on a piece of notebook paper, i watched my favorite baseball team win the world series. i definitely cut some proverbial weeds, and 2008 is gonna be better, even if i have to pull a querada and throw myself through a sliding glass door."You know," Phil mused, a distant gleam in his eye, "they can take away our land and everything on it; they can force us into submission and slap our wrists from here to Mongolia; they can blow us off the face of the earth if they want to. But no matter how rich and powerful they are, they can't wipe out the moments we've had, the odds we've beaten, the memory of six hundred kids marching out to cut weeds!" Phil was on his feet for this last statement.
"Sit down, idiot," Sam intoned.
"Phil, that was beautiful," said Simon.
"Beautiful, but useless," Sam agreed grudgingly.
Phil sat down, nodding sadly. "Yeah."
They walked in silence for a while, then Phil stopped suddenly. "Where are we, Simon?"
"About three blocks from your house."
"No, I mean where are we really? I mean, what have we accomplished in these three months? Antiflux is going down the drain, you lost the Vishnik Prize, and I'm marking time waiting for someone to hand me a one-way ticket to Greenbush High. Wendy was a disaster, Barbara was a bigger disaster, and I didn't even have anyone to have a disaster with. Even Sam, who won himself a prize, isn't that happy about it because he's still got a serious hang-up about painting camels. We didn't do so hot, did we Simon?" Phil stopped walking again. "I mean, think about it Simon. What have we accomplished? Really?"
Simon shuffled uncomfortably. "Not much, I guess."
Phil looked at him. "Then why was it all so good?"
-- Gordon Korman, Son of Interflux
happy new year, everybody. may you all have all the hockey sticks you need to build all the fences to get you where you want to go.