Tuesday, 15 July 2003 | Saying no

Including the time that I was horizontal, wrapped in the comforter cover I use for a blanket and thinking about things I can't recall, I was at home for exactly sixteen hours this weekend, all because there were too many things worth doing and because I can't say no. I never learn to say no, because, looking back, I can't say I would have sacrificed any of the events for more sleep or some "alone time" or to have the dishes washed and the clothes on hangers. I do those things, of course, but not when they have any sort of competition. N tells me that a busy, sleepless lifestyle means I am going to die younger than I would otherwise. Sometimes I feel like telling her that there's something to be said for living more now, but I never do, because I'm not sure I'm right.

Speaking of living and the way one chooses to do it. Eric has been sending me email from Arusha, Tanzania, where he's spending the summer working for the UN, helping prosecute war criminals of Rwanda. Reading his writing makes me want to be exactly there, to help somehow, to escape the western bubble for a little while, and to appreciate new degrees of superficiality. (If he decides to put his stories online [there's a possibility], I'll be sure to mention it.)

Speaking of superficial (albeit entertaining) western culture. Look what I got in the mail yesterday.