Ambition To Squint

Hey.

Sorry I haven’t written in so long. I hope you know it’s not that I don’t think of you.

And it’s not that I have nothing to say. Or that I don’t know how to say it. Call it fear, call it inertia, call it a malfunction of chemical receptors in my brain. All of these could be reasons, but all are definitely excuses. I’m going to try to say things this way. It might work. Stranger things have happened.

Something has been bothering me, something that is uncomfortable to bring up, but might be another (hidden) reason for my silence.

I am intimidated by you and The Physicist. I envy you both. You are grownups, doing grownup things, having babies, doing physics, living productive lives. I know it’s ultimately my own gig to get over it. I’m not exactly proud of my work. I want to change that. But there are obstacles.

And part of the problem, I’m ashamed to admit, (here’s the big confession) is that I don’t remember The Physicist at all. I remember watching bastketball with him, I remember sitting in the apartment on Richmond. I remember when you got married. But I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup to save my life. This hurts, because I do remember how important he is to you. And perhaps if I remembered him, I might not have built him up into such an intimidating force.

About now, you’re probably laughing out loud. “The Physicist? MY Physicist? Intimidating?? Har-har-de-har! He cleans the cat boxes for crying out loud! I still have to help him pick out his clothes so he doesn’t look like he did in 1989! Har!”

And the wife has seen you both in the past few years, and promises me The Physicist doesn’t wear pants made of blinding light nor shoot shrink rays from his fingertips. So obviously this is my gig to get over.

A person should be more that what they do, yeah? But The Physicist actually DOES something. And I’m not sure I want to. Do. ANYthing. So, you’re saying maybe embrace that? Good point. You always were smart.

More later.

Yours ever,

jm