Teeves of the world unite

It’s been some little time since my last update, a good few days. Weekends are never the ideal time for this – there’s so many better things to do than to blog. But, back at work, and blogging is Go.

The job description for my immediate manager’s job is now available to apply for. I’m tossing it up as to whether to apply, although I almost certainly will. I have to decide whether to stay here and go up a notch, or to move departments/places of work after the summer. Not sure yet. I need, as usual, someone else to tell me what to do. As with my car, which has just this moment been broken into. Accursed teefs of North London.

The most pressing thought on my mind over the last weekend though, atypically, is morbid, and sad, and not a little confusing, and not a little beyond the scope of mere words. I ended up with friends from the internet – some I’ve met, some i’ve not. I met one in New York, I’ve met a pile from this country, I met a Canadian, I met my best friend. It was never my intention. I also know people that I wouldn’t consciously call my friends, but I hold a deep-seated affection for them despite never having met, face to face. A Strange New World, to be sure, this web lark.

Over the weekend, an internet acquaintance – one whom I often disagree with but whom I respect greatly – died. More to the point, he took his own life. The thought crosses: how would anyone outside of regular societal contact know? This complex, individual man took the time to send out packages of possessions – cd’s, posters, etc. – to those with whom he’d become acquainted, at least online. I haven’t received one. I don’t know if I will, I’m waiting to see. The thought, and planning, and interest this man had in his own death is a sight to behold, and perpetuates his own, enigmatic persona. I’m using long words in honour.

More than this though, it’s sad. It’s good to know that a bunch of people he met, with whom he shared just one tiny facet of his life, had some sort of effect on him enough to inspire a reaction. But I’ll never understand what he did, or respect that, I don’t think, and although I still don’t understand it all – least of all my own reaction to the whole bizarre affair – I have a feeling this whole concept will float uncomfortably before me for a few days yet.

How well can we know people whom we’ve never even looked in the eye? Not well, it would seem.

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