We celebrated my dad’s birthday last night, and the man acted like a giddy little boy. He tore open the box of an iPad Mini and was transfixed for hours. He was, I might add, severely lacking in his ability to take selfies.
In other news, I am writing my teaching initiative and personal statement to teach abroad. You would think that after writing hundreds of pages of history papers in college that I would be somewhat in touch with words. False. I am only now realizing how hard writing is when it is personal.
When I am churning out a history paper I am hundreds of years removed from my subjects. These people have come and gone, in the process leaving enough of a mark on time that I am thinking about them – indeed, losing sleep over them – 150 years later. Their deeds are done. But when I am faced with writing about myself, that comfortable barrier of time is removed. I have to concern myself with making a mark on my own time. And that thur is a little weighty, ya dig?