Quantification of the Individual

I have a question that events and conversations over the past few years have created. I will not recount these conversations or the people involved because that would take more time than I want to spend, nor do I think it’d be fair to the participants, either (even if I were to disguise them like I do with every story that appears here). Suffice it to say, I’ve sat back and merely observed these conversations, watching what was going on around me. I have not come to any conclusions, so I suppose you could say this post is a mental exercise to try and at least come close to placing my finger upon something firmer than I currently have in my head. What I’m searching and have formed a hypothesis for is the answer to the following question: At what point do we quantify individuals, determining there has been a certain juncture where they merit or acquire a fixed label that solidifies them for the rest of their lives?

Graduate School Questions

Unfortunately it appears I’m now on a month-to-month cycle of posting here, and I do not like that, but the beast that is graduate school has seemingly dictated such a rhythm must now exist. Or should it? I can’t tell if this matter of being busy is something I’ve construed or if it’s just the way graduate study naturally is. Either way, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I’m going to do something aside from class, work, and studying (like writing this post right now), it’ll have to occur because of a conscious decision to do so, not because it will just naturally happen.

Thirty-Two Years

Today is my parents’ anniversary. They’ve been married thirty-two years. That is longer than I have even been alive. They are a perpetual blessing, these two people. I could sit here and type up different stories of memories that are funny, but it’d be too hard to select one. Instead, I think it’s appropriate to mention a time when I realized how much of a team they are together.