I have a new living arrangement and the person who came seems rather taken with what she says are twinkly eyes. My eyes don’t twinkle.
I have to suppress a snort as I think of my first room-mate in Atlanta asking us all if we were fascinated by her eyes (it had been one of the weirdest first bread-breaking experiences I have undergone). She had the oddest fascination with her eyes, I remember. Then again, perhaps we are only as odd as our times, and in some other time, men’s fascination with the shapes of their cocks and women’s fascination with the shapes of their breasts would be considered odd.
The people you end up living with, by necessity than choice, often bring into your life stories you are glad to be spared living through. My life sucked, for the greater portion of its timeline, thanks to fate and family both, and I still think I am better off (emotionally) than most people I have ended up living with through rooming arrangements made for financial reasons.
Perhaps it doesn’t all boil down to just privilege or money, in the end. Perhaps my mother was right, and will is as powerful as anything else. She tells me sometimes of her ancestral house, and of privilege and money, and how it was all broken into smithereens on the precipice of the world they refused to change for.
In 2012, I ended up with a family in San Diego for a weekend. The three kids had taken a fancy to a song and played it repeatedly while we were driving from the airport to their home. Three years later, the song continues to be an ear worm. I suspect that the kids have moved on. I am stuck still, remembering the lyrics with painful precision.
We have been doing an Agile workshop. I suspect that the only way to sell Agile to our benefactors across the ocean is to wrap it well in the lean manufacturing principles they so adore.