I don't kick ass and take names. Nor do I kick names and take ass. I have taken kicks before, and I suppose I've named an ass or two, but those seem meaningless in not only the grand scheme of things, but the little things as well.
I don't take notes on life, unless you want to count this blog. I can't foresee myself years from now digging up this site and rereading it to see where I was in my head, but that could be because my foresight is only slightly better than my crappy memory. Overall, I tend to live in the present. Yet, I've not owned a pair of overalls since I was in elementary school.
2009's Christmas has come and gone, so I have the aftermath of annual updates to attend to. It's a quirky phenomenon: people feel it necessary to send out yearly letters to fill in details about new additions, significant changes, and goofy photographs of themselves in coordinated, ugly sweaters. These status checks are the lone contact I have with most of these people - an uncle in California, a [steadily-increasing] family who's moved twice, a college friend-turned-solicitor... Reading their letters prompts warm memories, but little inspiration to reply. Want a generic log of my activities? Give me a call. (Do people use telephones anymore?) Better yet, swing by the house and we'll put you up for a meal and/or a night.
Even so, I'm vowing to myself to respond to at least four folks - the forementioned trio in the last paragraph, plus a former next-door-neighbor. Will I successfully compose entertaining/endearing/informative commentary on life as a Becker? Will I bother finding photos to accompany the letters? Am I merely using these as the current procrastination from completing a writing job I deem important? I have no answers to any of these questions. The only surety I have is you won't receive one.
Video may or may not have killed the radio star, but email definitely slaughtered the post office. Outside the Christmas seasons, I don't think I received a personal letter in years. I hold Dennis Hopper personally responsible.
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