Dear George – .theet ruoy hsurB

Dear George,

I tried something new today.  We all have our patterns in our lives.  Our morning routines.  How we turn the pages in a book.  The way we kiss our loved ones good night.  On this eve, after my shower, I added my pea sized amount of toothpast to my toothbrush and began the motions of brush bristles against my tooth enamal.  What was different this time, and what did unwittingly at first, was to start brushing the my bottom teeth first.  First the front, then towards the molars on my right.  Once I was cogniscent of this change, I continued on the thread basically completed my entire dental routine in reverse.  Something that normally took zero thought had suddenly become a minor mental effort.  And as simple as a task this may have been, the discomfort of changing what has basically become a lifelong routine has left me questioning everything else about life.  Why is this small ripple causing a tsunami?  I don’t get it.  I know tomorrow, when I absent mindly return to my normal motions everything will feel as right as rain, but for now, I am left feeling lost and confused.  I dare not try and change anything else, lest I become crippled with disorientation.

From the lines,


Dear George – Day 2

Dear George,

Another birthday has come and gone from both sides of the globe now.  I appreciated the wishes I got, and found myself surprised at some that I had not expected.  Sometimes I feel as though I’m a spectre that failed to make it into Tobin’s Spirit Guide.  Gone but not forgotten, and celebrated on special days.  An ethereal figure that occasionally manifests and materializes to his loved ones when the Ewoks throw a party about victory and mixed metaphors.

I was having a discussion with one of the recruits the other a couple of days ago and it the conversation turned to trying to understand who we are as individuals.  I had never really had much discourse with this individual up until now, with hindsight indetifying how intense a topic that was with people who really do not each other that well.  With I being the older one, he inquired how one does discover their true selves.  How do I answer that question?  The moment I finally understood myself came like an epiphany presented in neon lights and musical dance number starring Danny Kay and Bruno Mars.  Certainly there was ground work that was completed through readings that I would have never understood when my naïvity and raging emotions were at their peak.  Rationalization was not a weapon in my arsenal and observations were done at face value.  The best I could tell the lost soul was to read historical and philosophical texts in earnest and it would come to him eventually.

There remains a reverence to those who are culturally recognizeds as educators and experienced, but despite my accumulated cycles, am I in any way qualified to give guidance?  I wonder.

Tomorrow is a day of rest.  I believe I have earned it.  However, I’ll leave it up to history to be the judge of my actions.

Regards from the lines,


Another restart. Dear George. Day 1

Dear George,

By now you’re certainly aware that you do not exist.  Sure, there is a George out there.  There are even a couple of Georges that I have met along the way.  But you George, are not real.  I’m going to be a dick and use your monicker for my own end– which is to try and keep me motivated to write more regularly.

Some of what I write you will be true.  Some of what I write you I may believe to be true, but may be wildly inaccurate.  And some of what I write will be, to put it bluntly, will be complete and utter bullshit.  You will be my audience of truth and lies and you will enjoy it.  You will enjoy it because I will you to enjoy it.  You are a figment of my creativity after all.  Maybe you might even write me back sometime, however let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

Moving on, then.

Today was a day like any other, which is to say that I woke up, I broke my fast (I will never use this George R.R. Martin device again, I swear on the blood of every last Stark), and went Building 2 to commence with my day’s classes.  Also, thanks to modern travel and the ongoing use of time-zones, I began commemorating my birthday more than a full twenty-four hours before my actual time of birth.  This creates an intersting void where well-wishes feel either late, or being unconciously witheld or forgotten.  It’s true that I am generally unconcerned with birthday greetings, but I am always half-prepared for them.  It is now the end of my day, and only now, just as I prepare for bed, that I am starting to recieve a small wave of them.

There is more to say George, but I grow weary.  More shall come.  Some letters may be larger, and some may be smaller.  But they will come.

Regards from the front lines,