Stanford, California — January 3, 2005
Air travel never seems to bother me. It’s weird. I have to juggle heavy bags, walk long distances, sit in cramped spaces, stand in long lines, and undergo other small deprivations, and yet it’s oddly enjoyable, I never mind.
At the airport, there is little to do besides watch the CNN Airport Network. Today, they somehow manage to find time in between the interminable commercials for CNN (CNN: the world’s most trusted name in propaganda!) to bring us an important news story on the danger of laser pointers.
Unfortunately, the booker seems to have only been able to find someone with a few remaining shreds of honesty. While he does concede that pointing a laser pointer at a plane might be a bad idea, he steadfastly refuses to admit that they could be used for terrorism. Better luck next time, CNN.
Car. Plane. Monorail. Shuttle. Train. Bus. Bike.
It feels weird to be back here at Stanford. I know I don’t fit at home but I don’t quite fit here either. I feel extraordinarily tense, misshapen, and lonely, especially when other people are around.
Already, I’m back on the treadmill. There’s always too much to do, days are booked solid with events, tasks overwhelm. It’s hard to find time to reflect. The anxiety is overwhelming. There are so many people, all around. There always looking at you, expecting things, rewards and punishments behind their emotionless gazes. It’s all too much.
What am I saying? I’ve only been back a couple hours. I’ll adjust.