It's funny, I wasn't so terribly psyched about this birthday as I have been about previous ones. But then again I have very few outside of the family with whom to share this event. Oh well.
A fairly frequent thought of mine is, "if I were to suddenly leave this world, for what would I be remembered, if at all?" Now, I'm not saying I'm suicidal, far from it, but to a certain extent this thought does animate some of my choices.
To put it in hackneyed army terms, I try to "be all I can be," without of course joining the army... ugh.
Recently some of my efforts in this direction have been my learning to read and write Devanagari ("script of the city of the gods"), which is the wonderful alphabetic syllabary of Hindi and a few other languages. In keeping with my multitudinous and ever-increasing Indic interests, I'm also endeavoring to learn to speak Hindi itself. And what a wonderful language it is... far closer, if fact, to Latin and therefore English than one might think. It's proving to be quite enjoyable.
Anyway, I'm still writing my horrible sketches and other dramatic material, trying feebly to compose music, studying European History, and learning how to draw cartoons as well.
It's a strange life.
