word of the day: bellow

1) to shout loudly, especially in a deep voice
2) to make the deep sound that a bull makes

Bob was a fellow
Who loved Jell-O
That definitely had to be yellow
And Mellow
To make him bellow

word of the day: perfunctory

done quickly and withour interest, and only to satisfy people's expectations

I was only vaguely aware that my decision was perfunctory, to meet what I thought people expected me to be.

word of the day: escapade

1) a sexual relationship that is exciting or risky, but that is not considered serious
2) an adventure or series of events that is exciting or risky

What was planned to be a little escapade with a detective novel and a cup of coffee turned out to be an unescapable all-night ride.

word of the day: prosaic

boring, ordinary, or lacking in imagination

Despite the desperate effort of the planners, the new development in the Glen, with all its ostentatious frills, does not succeed in defying the hopelessly prosaic nature of planned communities.

happy birthday, sensei

Today is a birthday of a person who is personally very important to me and whom I bertayed years ago. He widened my perspective, enriched my life, and encouraged me to be and express myself. He was very important to me when we were physically close, but even now, after nearly three years and thousands of miles apart, he still has a special place in my heart. Of so many stupid things I have done in the past four or so years, either from my carefully hidden hubris or from my childish irresponsibility, my inability (deriving from shame) to have any contact with him is probably what I regret the most.

I had a dream of him this morning for the first time since I willfully estranged myself from him. I was at some kind of reception, and knew he was there. I stole several glimpse of him chatting with others, but could not look up when I felt his gaze upon me. I knew this would be the last chance to talk with him, but I was petrified in shame. I did not know how I could face him for all I had done. I pretended not to have noticed him, deep in my own thought. He seemed to be trying to reach out for me, but he also failed to summon the courage to look me into the eyes. He drifted away. I woke up. The familiar wet pillow felt cold.

My selfish vanity that still remembers the long-withered glory does not allow me to go up to him as a failure that I am now. I need to find a way to bear the irrevocable past if I am to have contact with him again. I do not know if it would be possible. All I can do now is to timidly murmur a happy-birthday to him in my exile.