I got a new apartment, I’m moving this month. After three years here, might as well be three years wasted, I’m getting my own place, getting my own life back; having a place of my own, a home. Isn't that what I said when I moved here?
Will my life turn around amidst my insistent overture that I don’t want it to?
I sense a joy these days, like I feel that there is someone out there who loves me. A feeling that is usually limited to when I know that there is someone out there who loves me. Is there someone who loves me that I’m sensing, that I don’t know about yet? Doubt it.
For now, I’m caught up in the anxiety of the actual move. I have so much shit that I have no idea how to organize the move. I can’t make it haphazard like I’ve done before, making multiple trips as I was able to. If I did that this time, it would take a frustratingly long amount of time.
Showing posts with label futility regret. Show all posts
Showing posts with label futility regret. Show all posts
Sunday, December 02, 2001
Tuesday, February 20, 2001
1557 Noe Street, San Francisco
I don’t even know what it means to fall in love anymore. After Amina, after Shiho, after Josephine, I have no idea what the feeling is anymore. I don’t think I can fall in love anymore. It’s a practice in futility. Any approach to loving someone would solely be an intellectual exercise. I will never just fall in love with anyone ever again. Because of Amina, because of Shiho, because of Josephine, I will always have my defenses up, I will always be looking to protect myself, and with defenses and protections up, I will never be able to love again. I will always be gauging the other person’s behavior to determine whether to fall in love and how I fall in love. That’s not love. Love is not a response, it is an affirmative act. Otherwise, it’s not love. How do I absorb the fact that I will never fall in love again? I need to think deeply about that. If my feeling is a response to another person’s behaviors, it is not love.
Saturday, June 03, 2000
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
New lows. I'm wasting so much money these days going drinking with Ritu after work. That really has to stop, there has to be more to life than that. The band is on extended hiatus. The other two are going on vacations that take up most of this month.
New lows. Life is so useless. I'm stuck between knowing that there is a truth to life and reality to pursue and being stuck living the life of someone who knows of no such truth.
New lows. I'm ready to leave San Francisco. I'm sick of it and its weather. If I'm still around by December, I'm moving somewhere else. I don't care where, I am out of San Francisco by next year. San Francisco has given nothing to me. I've lost the two loves of my life while living in the Bay Area. I've also floated through a lifeless, uninspired, and depressing relationship, and a relationship that was so traumatic that it destroyed my desire to be in one at all. I can't say that the Bay Area has been good to me.
New lows. Life is so useless. I'm stuck between knowing that there is a truth to life and reality to pursue and being stuck living the life of someone who knows of no such truth.
New lows. I'm ready to leave San Francisco. I'm sick of it and its weather. If I'm still around by December, I'm moving somewhere else. I don't care where, I am out of San Francisco by next year. San Francisco has given nothing to me. I've lost the two loves of my life while living in the Bay Area. I've also floated through a lifeless, uninspired, and depressing relationship, and a relationship that was so traumatic that it destroyed my desire to be in one at all. I can't say that the Bay Area has been good to me.
Monday, April 12, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
Almost halfway through April - the hardest month to get through and this year is no exception. There’s a sense of my whole world crumbling around me and nothing being real and nothing having meaning or mattering. I’m getting closer to accepting that Josephine and I are through, but I’m still a far way from coming to terms with it and closing with her. I need to do something major to reach closure, I’m thinking of something with all the photographs I have of her, compiling them into one collection. Unlike with Amina, I’m not going to throw anything away. Josephine I want to keep with concrete memories.
I don’t know what the purpose of that is, it does feel empty, and the flood of memories is overwhelming. She was so full of life and she made me feel happy, she was a little ball of fun. But we had problems that we couldn’t get over and so it ended and it’s better that way. It’s hard to look to the future and think I might want to be with someone again, I just don’t see it. I’ll get over her, I know, but I will be just as sad thinking about her even when I do.
I don’t know what the purpose of that is, it does feel empty, and the flood of memories is overwhelming. She was so full of life and she made me feel happy, she was a little ball of fun. But we had problems that we couldn’t get over and so it ended and it’s better that way. It’s hard to look to the future and think I might want to be with someone again, I just don’t see it. I’ll get over her, I know, but I will be just as sad thinking about her even when I do.
Sunday, April 04, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
I’ve been anti-social and distanced from people and friends. Even the people closest to me, my housemates I’ve been keeping at arms distance. I’ve begun sitting again which is really good if I can keep it up. It may be a whole new phase of spiritual development. By spiritual, I mean the relationship between myself and the rest of the world and how it relates to existence in general, my existence, and my role as an individual as part of an interconnected whole. The first phase was mostly the learning phase, being exposed to new concepts and formulating my own ideas. The second phase is...whatever, I have no idea; whatever comes next. Now, that is. The second phase is getting over the feeling that I have answers and re-figuring out what the questions are.
It is a phase that also comes with age. Becoming thirty and having nothing under my belt to show for my twenties. I didn’t do anything for the whole of my twenties and there’s no going back. I’m trying not to regret it, I should take it as fate. But with my twenties in the past and nothing having been done, I look at my thirties before me, and whatever I do in my thirties, it’s only ten years until I hit forty. And I do not intend to live much longer beyond that unless I enter a monastery and renounce the world.
I’m still trying to let go of Josephine. I think we’re out of touch now. There’s nothing to hold onto anymore, all the meaning has been negated and rendered moot. Nothing left to even warrant a response to a call out. I am so adverse to getting intimate to anyone now. I’ll get over it, I’m sure, but whenever I think of the possibility of getting close to someone, I just react against it.
I need to work on my inability to feel and the layers and layers of repression that have buried my feelings. I am aware that there is something in me that I’m completely out of touch with. How to get in touch with it and what to do with it after I figure it out is my task.
It is a phase that also comes with age. Becoming thirty and having nothing under my belt to show for my twenties. I didn’t do anything for the whole of my twenties and there’s no going back. I’m trying not to regret it, I should take it as fate. But with my twenties in the past and nothing having been done, I look at my thirties before me, and whatever I do in my thirties, it’s only ten years until I hit forty. And I do not intend to live much longer beyond that unless I enter a monastery and renounce the world.
I’m still trying to let go of Josephine. I think we’re out of touch now. There’s nothing to hold onto anymore, all the meaning has been negated and rendered moot. Nothing left to even warrant a response to a call out. I am so adverse to getting intimate to anyone now. I’ll get over it, I’m sure, but whenever I think of the possibility of getting close to someone, I just react against it.
I need to work on my inability to feel and the layers and layers of repression that have buried my feelings. I am aware that there is something in me that I’m completely out of touch with. How to get in touch with it and what to do with it after I figure it out is my task.
Monday, August 28, 1995
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
What a waste of time. What a waste of my life. What kind of job am I going to be able to get after law school? I have no experience. So what have you been doing with your life? I dunno. Why did you go to law school? Or if I end up in Japan and meet a friend of Shiho's, "oh, you graduated from law school? What are you doing now?", "Teaching English", "Oh". Pathetic. I don't even want to think about dealing with the 'rents about taking the bar. In that case, I'm not sure I want to deal with Shiho. In fact, I doubt that I will want to deal with myself when the time comes.
Tuesday, March 02, 1993
Englewood Cliffs, NJ
How far am I going to take this charade? I finished my law school applications and sent them off. While writing my personal statement, I found myself actually convincing myself that I want to go to law school. One step back and, “what the hell am I doing?”. It is with utter contempt and disgust that I let this go on like this. All the hatreds resurface. I have to remember what I must remember and face how difficult this is, and think about California and that my life doesn’t start until I get there.
I haven’t written to Shiho since December. That in itself must tell her something about my doubts. I have to write to her now. I need to figure out what to tell her and what to withhold for the time being. I do have pangs of regret, of making things complicated, but I do think the facts are facts and that trying to make a relationship work would be futile.
And in the meanwhile, Amina and I just get closer and closer and the future with her looks so good. I want to say that everything is rosy and wonderful and all the gush that comes with love and lovers. But everything is rosy! Everything is great, and I’ve never looked so positively towards the future before. Except that I still don’t want to live to a ripe old age, I still don’t want to be condemned to that. Not yet.
I haven’t written to Shiho since December. That in itself must tell her something about my doubts. I have to write to her now. I need to figure out what to tell her and what to withhold for the time being. I do have pangs of regret, of making things complicated, but I do think the facts are facts and that trying to make a relationship work would be futile.
And in the meanwhile, Amina and I just get closer and closer and the future with her looks so good. I want to say that everything is rosy and wonderful and all the gush that comes with love and lovers. But everything is rosy! Everything is great, and I’ve never looked so positively towards the future before. Except that I still don’t want to live to a ripe old age, I still don’t want to be condemned to that. Not yet.
Sunday, January 10, 1993
Englewood Cliffs, NJ
Being here is tearing me apart. The ‘rents have been trying to be really nice now that they’ve got me to agree to take the LSAT and apply to law school. My thinking and feelings go around in circles, perhaps starting with a statement like, “I resent them”, and then the thoughts start going back and forth, each thought or feeling prompting an opposite thought or feeling.
I start with a statement like, “I resent them”. I arrive at a room. It is chaotic and confusion. I run around and look at the options; the options are doors. The options are all the ways I can react to the juxtapositions, the opposing feelings. Finally I choose a door that leads me to the appropriate thought, the good supportive argument against them. But that’s never the end, there are more thoughts, more feelings, more arguments to chase, so I have to run around more until I find the right door for the next argument. And when I’ve gone through all the doors, I’m left with the original statement, “I resent them”, present and as strong as ever.
All the arguments, all the explanations and justifications for my feelings, attitudes, and actions have been written down. I’ve already gone through them. But for some reason, I can’t keep those feelings in my head or heart. Every time I do something in opposition to them, I have to go through the whole runaround to justify what I do.
It’s draining to have to go through the full circle every time I have a feeling for or against the ‘rents, and it’s so unnecessary because the bottom line is that I can’t stand them. But every blasted time I go through the whole thing. I’m fighting a losing battle that I won’t lose because it will never end.
Ching Ching and I got reacquainted today. I had heard that she was in New York attending Columbia and I’ve been thinking of hunting her down, but she called me first and I went to visit her today. She was among the very first people I befriended at Oberlin, how odd how natural it was to find us having lunch at Tom’s Restaurant so many years later after having so many ups and downs.
It was terrific seeing her and being with her. We connect in so many ways, but it’s clear to me that our paths were meant to be different. We have so much to teach each other through our different experiences if we just connect every few years and share what we’ve been doing. But only if the connection between us stays the same.
I spoke with Luyen for several hours the other night. She got suspended from Oberlin for poor academic performance. The suspension part, sound familiar? More parallels between us.
It was so weird when she was going through her troubles last Spring because I would listen to her and I knew exactly what she was going through. I knew what she needed to hear, the answers she needed to get out of the woods, but I couldn’t tell her. I realized that four years prior, if someone had come to me with the answers I needed to get out of my torment, I would have resisted. I would have said that it wasn’t that fucking easy.
Answers are only answers if you understand why they are answers. For me, the only way out was through personal experience, walking the path was the only way to understand where it led out of the woods. So I thought Luyen had to do the same, but I thought I could help by pointing in certain directions; plant seeds so that when she encountered key experiences, words to help understand them would have already gone into her ears.
It feels like it was such a mistake to go out with her, but how else could I have gotten close enough to be any help? It may have been the only way to get her to trust me enough to open up and listen. Of course I didn’t think this through back then, it’s easy to say this in retrospect, but the truth is that it was all impulse and feelings back then. I wanted to give a relationship with Luyen a chance after Hiromi was out of the picture. Not a very good reason when things obviously weren’t going so well.
The ‘rents have been trying to be really nice lately. It makes it necessary to put in an extra effort to resent them. I have to remember that there is a price, nothing they give comes free. I told them what I want to do and they just steamrolled right over it to push their agenda. Their interference in my life plans is not something I should forget about just because of some immediate feel-good gestures on their part.
I start with a statement like, “I resent them”. I arrive at a room. It is chaotic and confusion. I run around and look at the options; the options are doors. The options are all the ways I can react to the juxtapositions, the opposing feelings. Finally I choose a door that leads me to the appropriate thought, the good supportive argument against them. But that’s never the end, there are more thoughts, more feelings, more arguments to chase, so I have to run around more until I find the right door for the next argument. And when I’ve gone through all the doors, I’m left with the original statement, “I resent them”, present and as strong as ever.
All the arguments, all the explanations and justifications for my feelings, attitudes, and actions have been written down. I’ve already gone through them. But for some reason, I can’t keep those feelings in my head or heart. Every time I do something in opposition to them, I have to go through the whole runaround to justify what I do.
It’s draining to have to go through the full circle every time I have a feeling for or against the ‘rents, and it’s so unnecessary because the bottom line is that I can’t stand them. But every blasted time I go through the whole thing. I’m fighting a losing battle that I won’t lose because it will never end.
Ching Ching and I got reacquainted today. I had heard that she was in New York attending Columbia and I’ve been thinking of hunting her down, but she called me first and I went to visit her today. She was among the very first people I befriended at Oberlin, how odd how natural it was to find us having lunch at Tom’s Restaurant so many years later after having so many ups and downs.
It was terrific seeing her and being with her. We connect in so many ways, but it’s clear to me that our paths were meant to be different. We have so much to teach each other through our different experiences if we just connect every few years and share what we’ve been doing. But only if the connection between us stays the same.
I spoke with Luyen for several hours the other night. She got suspended from Oberlin for poor academic performance. The suspension part, sound familiar? More parallels between us.
It was so weird when she was going through her troubles last Spring because I would listen to her and I knew exactly what she was going through. I knew what she needed to hear, the answers she needed to get out of the woods, but I couldn’t tell her. I realized that four years prior, if someone had come to me with the answers I needed to get out of my torment, I would have resisted. I would have said that it wasn’t that fucking easy.
Answers are only answers if you understand why they are answers. For me, the only way out was through personal experience, walking the path was the only way to understand where it led out of the woods. So I thought Luyen had to do the same, but I thought I could help by pointing in certain directions; plant seeds so that when she encountered key experiences, words to help understand them would have already gone into her ears.
It feels like it was such a mistake to go out with her, but how else could I have gotten close enough to be any help? It may have been the only way to get her to trust me enough to open up and listen. Of course I didn’t think this through back then, it’s easy to say this in retrospect, but the truth is that it was all impulse and feelings back then. I wanted to give a relationship with Luyen a chance after Hiromi was out of the picture. Not a very good reason when things obviously weren’t going so well.
The ‘rents have been trying to be really nice lately. It makes it necessary to put in an extra effort to resent them. I have to remember that there is a price, nothing they give comes free. I told them what I want to do and they just steamrolled right over it to push their agenda. Their interference in my life plans is not something I should forget about just because of some immediate feel-good gestures on their part.
Thursday, May 21, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
I’ve decided to stop drinking. In a moment, I had poured all the alcohol in my apartment down the drain. Alcohol had taken a symbolic position in my life, things ran in cycles and the times that I bottomed out and got smashed helped mark the cycles. I would plunge into life-threatening oblivion and wake up the next morning and find myself disappointed at still being alive.
At the same time I’d feel refreshed, I’d get on my feet and feel a sense of renewal. I could stand on my feet and it would feel so good that I was able to. I could be dead and I may still wish I had died, but I’m not, here I am, life goes on, start picking up the pieces of the previous night, day, or week. Go about my day and don’t let anyone know what had just happened. When things went too far, alcohol helped throw everything in the air so that things could resettle and restart.
But now I feel that alcohol has served its function. It helped me get through college and the type of stress college life brings, but that’s over. Now it’s life and alcohol is not going to help me function in life. I don’t need the anger it brings, not the depression, not the pain.
I was in bed and I couldn’t get to sleep, staring at the ceiling. I started thinking about every aspect of my life and everything in it. It was all so depressing. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t frustrate me and seem futile. I realized that despite how real those stressors seemed, those feelings were being exacerbated by the alcohol that I had consumed earlier. The function alcohol served has ceased to be productive.
In a few days, my time at Oberlin will be over. It feels like it has been my whole life. Whatever happened before Oberlin is so inconsequential now. Everyone says “congratulations”, but I don’t see what’s the big deal. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, I was tracked into college, and completing the course work was inevitable. It wasn’t a huge challenge and I didn’t even find what I wanted to study until too late. Kind of a waste. But at least I got a lot out of the last year when I did study what I wanted to.
What I’ve studied hasn’t prepared me for the next step. I don’t know what I’m going to do next. I’m directionless with only a vague plan to go to Japan and find something there. I keep fading between realities. Sometimes I feel that the symbolic world really is all of reality, which is where most human beings seem to be. Sometimes I feel that I’m missing many simple things that other people are able to get, and therefore they are able to get more out of what they are doing than I do. Sometimes I realize the impermanent nature of the symbolic world and that is the basis of truth, the beginning of a journey that I want to be on. And that is the perspective I feel I’m leaning towards, that the symbolic world isn’t all of reality, but only that - symbolic of a reality that we can’t touch with our limited knowledge of life, reality and existence.
At the same time I’d feel refreshed, I’d get on my feet and feel a sense of renewal. I could stand on my feet and it would feel so good that I was able to. I could be dead and I may still wish I had died, but I’m not, here I am, life goes on, start picking up the pieces of the previous night, day, or week. Go about my day and don’t let anyone know what had just happened. When things went too far, alcohol helped throw everything in the air so that things could resettle and restart.
But now I feel that alcohol has served its function. It helped me get through college and the type of stress college life brings, but that’s over. Now it’s life and alcohol is not going to help me function in life. I don’t need the anger it brings, not the depression, not the pain.
I was in bed and I couldn’t get to sleep, staring at the ceiling. I started thinking about every aspect of my life and everything in it. It was all so depressing. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t frustrate me and seem futile. I realized that despite how real those stressors seemed, those feelings were being exacerbated by the alcohol that I had consumed earlier. The function alcohol served has ceased to be productive.
In a few days, my time at Oberlin will be over. It feels like it has been my whole life. Whatever happened before Oberlin is so inconsequential now. Everyone says “congratulations”, but I don’t see what’s the big deal. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, I was tracked into college, and completing the course work was inevitable. It wasn’t a huge challenge and I didn’t even find what I wanted to study until too late. Kind of a waste. But at least I got a lot out of the last year when I did study what I wanted to.
What I’ve studied hasn’t prepared me for the next step. I don’t know what I’m going to do next. I’m directionless with only a vague plan to go to Japan and find something there. I keep fading between realities. Sometimes I feel that the symbolic world really is all of reality, which is where most human beings seem to be. Sometimes I feel that I’m missing many simple things that other people are able to get, and therefore they are able to get more out of what they are doing than I do. Sometimes I realize the impermanent nature of the symbolic world and that is the basis of truth, the beginning of a journey that I want to be on. And that is the perspective I feel I’m leaning towards, that the symbolic world isn’t all of reality, but only that - symbolic of a reality that we can’t touch with our limited knowledge of life, reality and existence.
Wednesday, September 04, 1991
Third World House, Oberlin
The summer was uneventful and numb, but it was swift. I’m OK now. I think something’s been wrong, but I can’t tell. It feels like a rug has been pulled from under me and I didn’t notice. I’m back at Oberlin and I kind of hate the place. I feel old and everyone else seems so young. Four years is a good length for college life and I’m stretching it to five. Five years and my life isn’t pulling together at all. I still feel dysfunctional, directionless, useless, and without potential.
On the other hand, returning to Third World House has the advantages of familiarity and company. I feel like I fit in and belong here, so that’s comfortable. I’ve been unusually social. I miss Amina, she’s added so much to my life, even in her absence. It’s like nothing can go wrong with her in my life, even if we’re slated to just be friends. Someone I noticed last semester has moved into Third World House. Her name is Hiromi and I’d like to find a way to engineer meeting her. Maybe Japanese lessons.
Shiho and I got through my doubts this summer and there isn’t any bad blood between us. I don’t think she would hold things against me. She has a good heart and there’s so much I love and admire about her. If I got mad at her, she’d be very straight forward and tell me her side of the story and I’d be disarmed at her honesty. But I can’t say that I know her, so I don’t know. It’s been such a long time. We are going to have to see each other, meet up and find out what we’ve missed. Probably too much.
On the other hand, returning to Third World House has the advantages of familiarity and company. I feel like I fit in and belong here, so that’s comfortable. I’ve been unusually social. I miss Amina, she’s added so much to my life, even in her absence. It’s like nothing can go wrong with her in my life, even if we’re slated to just be friends. Someone I noticed last semester has moved into Third World House. Her name is Hiromi and I’d like to find a way to engineer meeting her. Maybe Japanese lessons.
Shiho and I got through my doubts this summer and there isn’t any bad blood between us. I don’t think she would hold things against me. She has a good heart and there’s so much I love and admire about her. If I got mad at her, she’d be very straight forward and tell me her side of the story and I’d be disarmed at her honesty. But I can’t say that I know her, so I don’t know. It’s been such a long time. We are going to have to see each other, meet up and find out what we’ve missed. Probably too much.
Saturday, July 27, 1991
Fort Lee, NJ
I did something I shouldn’t have. I went through everything that Shiho ever sent to me. It took over three hours and it was very painful. I had nightmares afterwards, the guilt was so overwhelming. What I’ve put her through was an injustice. She did try, she wanted so much from me that I know I was able to give. She took in so much of what I wanted her to. She deserved so much more than I gave and in the end she was an innocent victim of all my personal difficulties. There’s a good reason why she’s so far away now and how I do deserve it.
Back in high school years, Shiho and I decided to go out with each other a few weeks right before she left for Japan. It wasn’t enough time to make much of an impression and when my mental stability declined after she left, she got more and more overshadowed. By the time I got sent to the hospitals after my first semester in college, I was totally numb. The letters she sent from six months preceding my admission into the hospitals are filled with subtle pain that I totally missed.
The hospitals started in February 1988 - the same month Shiho managed to return to the States for a visit, a year and half after she left. She actually visited me with Liz when I was in the second hospital and I think she was quite shocked at what was going on. Immediately after that, I don’t think she knew how to approach me. I don’t think she was even able to ask if I was alright because she might have been scared of my reaction. We considered ourselves broken-up soon after that. Nothing said, it just happened.
For another year I was numb and minimally functional. A year after that, March-April 1989, corresponding to my move into Third World House, I started getting better, developing a positive outlook with death as its ironic base. Shiho and I had kept in touch writing occasionally, but I guess by then we had pushed each other into the margins of each other’s lives that we were already on a pen pal type letter basis. We’d gone our different directions.
She got hurt, she was a victim of my self-destruction. It’s a self-destruction that isn’t designed to succeed and this time, the cost has been Shiho’s trust; a very high cost. I guess I shouldn’t see the tragedy of Shiho in tragic proportions, though. It’s all abstract, theoretical and emotional.
I imagine one day we’ll be sitting in a coffeeshop in Japan, sipping at $7 coffees and talking about the too many years we’ve missed. I’d look her straight in the eye and recollect this weekend to her and tell her how sorry I was. She wouldn’t give any indication that it meant anything to her and she’d tell me to forget it, there’s no need, perhaps because that’s exactly what I’d tell her if the roles were switched. The coffee would be my treat.
Back in high school years, Shiho and I decided to go out with each other a few weeks right before she left for Japan. It wasn’t enough time to make much of an impression and when my mental stability declined after she left, she got more and more overshadowed. By the time I got sent to the hospitals after my first semester in college, I was totally numb. The letters she sent from six months preceding my admission into the hospitals are filled with subtle pain that I totally missed.
The hospitals started in February 1988 - the same month Shiho managed to return to the States for a visit, a year and half after she left. She actually visited me with Liz when I was in the second hospital and I think she was quite shocked at what was going on. Immediately after that, I don’t think she knew how to approach me. I don’t think she was even able to ask if I was alright because she might have been scared of my reaction. We considered ourselves broken-up soon after that. Nothing said, it just happened.
For another year I was numb and minimally functional. A year after that, March-April 1989, corresponding to my move into Third World House, I started getting better, developing a positive outlook with death as its ironic base. Shiho and I had kept in touch writing occasionally, but I guess by then we had pushed each other into the margins of each other’s lives that we were already on a pen pal type letter basis. We’d gone our different directions.
She got hurt, she was a victim of my self-destruction. It’s a self-destruction that isn’t designed to succeed and this time, the cost has been Shiho’s trust; a very high cost. I guess I shouldn’t see the tragedy of Shiho in tragic proportions, though. It’s all abstract, theoretical and emotional.
I imagine one day we’ll be sitting in a coffeeshop in Japan, sipping at $7 coffees and talking about the too many years we’ve missed. I’d look her straight in the eye and recollect this weekend to her and tell her how sorry I was. She wouldn’t give any indication that it meant anything to her and she’d tell me to forget it, there’s no need, perhaps because that’s exactly what I’d tell her if the roles were switched. The coffee would be my treat.
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