None were sick and none were well

The Admiral has been taken to the vet, where he will likely be remaining until I return to the US this weekend. His very attentive and caring catsitters noticed his appetite was dropping off and that he was not using the litterbox much. The vet initially found that he was dehydrated; this renews the concerns about kidney disease or diabetes.

On a jet plane

An offhand conversation about a life of travel piqued my interest in how much I've really travelled.

Being the sort that I am, this lead to a spreadsheet of flights I've taken in my life. One of the implicit postulates is that I've flown to more far-off places than I've driven. At least flights are easier to validate afterwards.

I've accounted for not quite a decade's travel in the last day, yielding about two hundred thousand miles.

Along the way, I went through the stored email of ten years. Fascinating and more than a bit bizarre.

Searching for "e-ticket" and "confirmation" finds things I'd long since forgotten. Some of my travels and some assignations simply on my watch.

Write you a letter

I've been busy amending and correcting my 2010 address labels.

Nothing close to the 2009 travel schedule is in the works, but I'd still like to get postcards out on the short trips in the near future.

We have the power of will

Increasingly, I realize the key to getting what you want from people is to act as though it is not just inevitable, but in fact has already happened.

I am both pleased and terrified by this conclusion.

There are you and here am I

An introspective mood takes hold. Everyone, I believe, is someone different to all the people in their life. If only different by role and perception.

I think about who I am for the people in my life more than is usually appreciated. Because I care.

Read the lines

One of the goals I accomplished in 2009 was finishing memorizing the first section of T.S. Elliott's "The Waste Land". Since this is really only meaningfully demonstrable in person, you'll just have to take my word for it.

Chatting recently with a friend I mentioned that I was no longer entirely sure how this became a goal; this is not unusual for me, to decide to do something and see it through long after the impetus is forgotten. She suggested it was to impress girls - a decent motivation for a lot of my activities - but doesn't seem right on this one. Mainly as I can't see it as the least bit romantic as a work, and frankly the ability to recite award-winning but disturbed poetry seems like the worst pick-up skill ever.

Still, I got through part one. And I do recite it, only occasionally on demand.

Tell me secrets, tell me sweet secrets

Secrets by their very nature make each one rare, hence scarce, and hence valuable.

Mystery is a currency that can really only be spent once, truly. Prolonged mysteries grow at best dull and at worst blatantly manipulative.

At best, pulling back the curtain can be seen in an honest light. I don't really believe that happens, but it is the upper asymptote.