- I sent an email to Evan, the English Instructor from the story below, on Friday. I told him I was in his class, recalled the story and mentioned that I'd written something and posted it on my blog. I did not tell him the name or URL of the blog. I also let him know where I work and what I majored in and that I have a Ph.D. I cut and pasted the content of the post into the email(though I edited out the line where I say I "saved his ass").
I also got to wondering what the papers I wrote for him were like. I have a file box with most of my old college papers and I found a manila folder labeled "English 200, Fall 1984." Inside was one exam and two papers (nothing else—no syllabus, no notes). I got a 3.8 on the exam and a 3.6 and a 3.5 on the papers—both of which I rewrote. It's not that much fun to read your old papers, but I have to say, these weren't bad. I at least deserved the grades I received, but maybe even higher ones. I think he expected more of me based on my in-class performance. I also found a folder marked "grades." My actual grade for the class was 3.9. When I saw it, I remembered exactly how I felt at the time, he couldn't just give up that final tenth of a point for the 4.0? But, it was an A+, so why am I complaining? I also remembered some of the other things we read, Dubliners by James Joyce, The Tempest by Shakespeare, and The Blithedale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I loved the Joyce and the Shakespeare. The Hawthorne was the only thing by him I ever liked (I'd already read The House of the Seven Gables and The Scarlet Letter and found both impossibly dull) and it inspired me to buy a copy of The Marble Faun, a novel of which, to this day, I have never read one word. It was a good class, I liked the reading and I learned a lot. I wonder if "Evan" will write back. I'll let you know if he does.
- I fixed the brakes on my bike. Ideally, I should install new pads, but I can make do with what I have for now. I had a hard time getting the adjustment right and they were still squealing to high heaven on Saturday. I did a little more tweaking and on Sunday and today, they were quiet and serene. Go me.
- There is an update on David: it's over. More later. The story is a slightly painful one and I'm figuring out how to tell it without seeming like I'm asking for sympathy or coming off as pathetic. I'm almost there. It is a case where I want to get lots of comments telling me how great I am and what a fool he is. Yet, I don't care that much about him and since I already know how great I am, I feel silly asking for it. I'm trying to write it in a way that you give me the positive comments because that's how you really feel, not because you think I need bucking up. However, if anyone says anything mean, I will have a problem with that.
How's that for some suspense?
Grateful for: competence.
Drop me a line.