September 30, 2014

We used to sit on that bench, outside the coffee shop, every Tuesday throughout the spring. We’d meet inside, and I’d buy two americanos; you’d put a dash of honey in yours, I’d make a joke about it, you’d giggle, and then we’d peer out the window to see if there were still spots on the bench outside. There undoubtedly was, every time.

It’s hard to make new friends when you’re older, and it’s even rarer to forge a friendship that is deep, heartfelt, and not mediated simply by a common workplace or activity. Sitting on the bench, we both new that we had found a friendship that was unique, a friendship that had depth.

And then, one Tuesday, you said you didn’t feel like getting coffee. After that, you stopped messaging, stopped finding excuses to spend time together. You shared secrets that were spoken in the confidence of friendship, and you used them to antagonize. You pulled away, completely, and I never really did understand why. Instead, now, I drink coffee on that bench, alone.

• What it’s like to write about the dead every day. An interesting interview about obituary writing and its role in journalism.
• In conjunction with Singapore’s Breast Cancer Foundation, design firm DDB Singapore is spreading awareness by releasing edited versions of the logos of popular social networking services.
• Free yourselves from the shackles of spoilers. My exact thoughts about spoilers: they don’t matter. Enjoy a piece of entertainment not for the surprise twist, but for the way it is crafted.

October 1, 2014

• Derek Jeter may be done his career as a baseball player, but he’s just embarking on his career as a sports publisher. I’m excited to see where The Players’ Tribune will go.
• Your apples are a year old. I had assumed everyone knew that apples were cold-stored and sold months later, but apparently this is news for some people.
• Honoré de Balzac may or may not have died of coffee poisoning, but he sure could write eloquently about the beverage, which didn’t have the popularity back then that it does now.

October 2, 2014

This morning, I realized I had run out of Advil Cold & Sinus. I was faced with a simple decision: lazily put on some clothes and brave the outdoors, walking three blocks to the drug store in my coughing and weakened state, or to stay under the covers in pyjamas and suffer the wrath that would come from this viscious sinus infection. I chose the former.

The only times I wear sweatpants outside the house is when I have some gardening or raking to do and there is a chill in the air; this morning, I eschewed the jeans or the chinos and put on some sweats. I arrived at the drug store disheveled, sneezing, with barely any voice because of the soreness of my throat. My local post-office worker, Guru, saw me in this state and made me a cup of ginger tea as I picked up my painkillers and cough syrups.

I drank my tea, bought my drugs (and some stamps), and went straight back home to bed. I have not yet taken off my sweatpants.

• A generic college paper. I still read essays and reports written this way, at work, generic in every way.
• Defining the ideal essay: “It is a glimpse of something uncomfortably recognizable, a requiem for the quotidian, a look over the newly-gilded edge.”

October 3, 2014

So much to do, not enough time to do it in. Feeling overwhelmed. Breathing quickly. Realizing that I will end up dropping the ball on a few things, that I may not be able to complete everything to the standard I expect from myself. Reminding myself that it’s okay — that sometimes there will be too much to do, and that’s okay. Life keeps moving on, and I keep moving with it, at my own pace.

It is all worth it. Every day, even a sad day blurred by headaches and filled with business meetings, is magical and infinite. This dance, this particular proton dance, will never come again. This tune we’re too busy to hear will not be played again. Never forget to be thankful for your life. (Jeffrey Zeldman)

• That ballpoint pen in your pocket? It has had quite the history to get there.
• Everyone’s favorite mascot, Bibendium (or “The Michelin Man,” if you must call him that), used to be called “the road drunkard” and went from sinister to cuddly.
• Together we make football. Football’s current violence problem is a societal problem amplified in a gladiator sport arena. We can fix it.

October 4, 2014

• You never forget. A 36-year-old teacher learns how to ride a bike from a student, and realizes that teaching and learning — of all kinds — is a complicated game. (Reminder to self: learn how to ride bike.)
• Blues on wheels. Any dream I had of quitting my job and being a postal carrier — because of my absolute love of the postal system — has now been effectively dashed after reading about how horribly the system treats its employees.