Prewritten instead of paying attention in class

It’s a titration, you see. Coffee is bitter (or perhaps acidic) and you need to balance these factors with the cream and sugar. Too much cream and you don’t really have coffee anymore. Too much sugar and you’re drinking a sludge-like syrup at the bottom of the cup. But without enough cream or sugar the sting of the coffee irritates the back of your tongue and gives a strong bitter aftertaste. So it’s a matter of balance and titration, reaching the point where the strong roast turns into caffinating goodness. I maintain that it’s all my new roommate’s fault; she’s got me thinking about coffee everyday. I mean, I’m going to 2nd Cup and ordering Ethiopian Medium instead of a vanilla bean latter or a hot chocolate. This is madness.

I’ve been feeling happy about the sate of my life recently. Looking back at the summer and the craziness that was going on there, being back in school is a desirable outcome for this fall. I had offers and pleas from various constituents at the ol’ pension company to stay on for an extra 4 moths until I solidly figured out what to do next. I see this as a corporation trying to sink its claws into me before I could get away so they could gain another compliant and efficient worker to positively adjust the processing statistics and better their corporate reputation.

I did apply to humanitarian organizations: the UN’s World Food Programme Wycliffe Bible Translators, the Himalayan Trust Fund. I feel that work along those lines is definitely in the future for me, that volunteering and working with the world’s poor and isolated is something I was always meant to do. I was uneasy at first, thinking that doing my MA would postpone this work for an unknown amount of time. Now that I’ve started grad school it seems likely that more grad school will immediately follow until I’ve done it all. Now I don’t know when I’ll get back to the 3rd world, but I’m hoping that somehow my further education will open doors to get there. I’ll have to pick a relief work-appropriate language to study.

I don’t want to keep saying, “I’ll do it someday,” b/c then it might never happen. I think about the women I worked with in Kolkata, and even though they made a bigger difference to me than I did to them I can’t leave them forever.

But I do feel happy, at least today. I try not to be moody, but the poetic part of me feeds off quiet melancholy.