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None of you can know how much I've missed writing out one of these. It's been a long while.
If you are one of those who only hear from me through a mass email like this, I know what you are thinking: you are asking yourself why now, why this out-of-the-blue email, what the hell is this guy (who might or might not once have been your friend) doing, emailing out his spam after so long without even a peep or a simple hello? And never mind that it's a two way street and you're probably as guilty; it's still annoying to get a long tirade from a dusty memory, from some guy who thinks he can still talk to you as if he knew you, like he used to. Never mind, I sometimes (sometimes??) talk to my memories, talk to myself to try to make sense of the world. Doesn't everyone?
Never mind, never mind and let's talk together - and even if you have hear from me recently (maybe even yesterday, or sometime in 2000) allow me to tell you some of what has happened and what I have found since then (whenever then might have been). If not, well heck, just hit the delete key if you have no time for the random ramblings of a possibly long forgotten fool.
I don't myself know what's kept me: Maybe it was the fact that I was doing too much multitasking, or maybe the knock knock of middle age playing havoc with my already feeble mind. Yes, surely there are many excuses and few enough reasons. But here's something that's not even an excuse. Perhaps it was one too many blonde joke:
A blonde and a brunette are out walking in the woods. The brunette says:Ach well, that's poor, admittedly, it's terrible even. Let's move on. I don't really know what caused it - it certainly was not a lack of material. More likely it was inertia, the more there's to write about, the less the motivation. I don't know why, but that's sometimes the way it seems to work.
"Hey, look! There's a dead crow."
The blonde looks up and asks, "Where?"
Was it because I was just a no-good, so-called friend, petty and forgetting all-too-soon? No. I don't think so. Or to quote my favourite film critic:
First of all, I am not petty. I AM NOT. Secondly, it is not my fault that there are so many stupid people on this planet. If somebody backs over their own child with their new SUV, that's one less genetic mishap on the planet, as far as I'm concerned.Sorry about the off topic - but I still hate those SUV monstrosities. I think Ford should make the next model three times the size of their latest one and call it the Exterminator. Anyway, what's happened to me you may ask (or not).
Well, I assure you I have not yet adopted-a-sheep, but some may want to think about it.
I hear that it's therapeutic, quite unlike some (removed dead link to article about some weird plastic surgery) which I think is just sick, sick, sick. The lengths people will go to to look better never fail to amaze and sadden.
And now, for the real meal deal, the gusto, the meat. THE NEWS:
I am outta here. Here being Pittsburgh. Here meaning academia even. Here encompassing living with good friends, cooking for fun and not profit, paying little rent and throwing the occasional party. Yes, I have sold my soul (and I hear there's a new place opening up for me in the only surefire growth area left in real estate these days). As of Oct 15th, I will be a cog in a different machine all together - yours truly will be a Scientist I (for whatever that means) with Millennium Pharmaceuticals in Cambridge, MA. As of Sep 15th, I will be taking off to Turkey for a deserved vacation. As of tonight, I believe I am officially throwing in the academic towel: No more Mr. Idealistic; and none of this "my life should have meaning beyond its pathetic existence" dream. No more thinking that my labour might have an impact on something, somewhere. From now on, "Money Talks Baby!" From this point forward, it's the Cushy Biotech job; it's work toward finding the next acne medicine or whatever management says will make money; and they probably can't fire me, not unless I incriminate myself like a Canadian Commodore, that is.
As I look forward to my upcoming conversion to being a normal person, rising up the class ladder and becoming a part of the Establishment as it were; and even finding myself agreeing with viewpoints that I might not have before, I can't help but survey these past thirty years. I'll spare the public the gory details; and skip all of it but for two things which I have kept, just as a confused old dog will keep its half eaten bones:
One: A poem that I have translated recently, which sounds much better
in Turkish. Even in its butchered form; however, it should still mean something:
You'll live simply. SIMPLY.Two: Letting aside all the poems and the half remembered memories (I somehow always remember lying down for the mandatory afternoon nap in my grandmother's house in the small town across the Marmara Sea and playing games on the ceiling with the images formed by my almost closed eyelashes and the dim light that filtered in from the heavy curtains on the windows. Some street vendor always seemed to cry out his wares; his cries getting farther and farther away as I drifted off. Like the memories I have and will have of you), if you are getting this email, it means that I have not forgotten and will not forget - that is, not everything.
As simple as drinking water when you're thirsty, for example
Two times two will always give you four.
The gadget in your hand will have a single button;
A single button, like a single sentence...
Like the "I love you" which you will say
Without beating around the bush, when you're in love.
A simple kiss will be enough for you...
A simple, warm kiss;
And with that kiss will your days fill
all your dreams, too.
You will have the fight of your life for that kiss,
And get the beating of your life for it.
You will have an untidy letter - hand written
as your most valuable possession - always carried on you, never thrown away.
You'll get dressed in a second
And undressed, too.
The time between waking up
and getting on the road will be short,
As short as the time you spend between those warm arms and
starting the next voyage.
Even you yourself will understand what you write
Your eyes will even explain themselves.
Your expectations will be simple, too;
Happiness will be waiting on this side of the hill.
You will be thankful for a healthy pancreas
As you close your eyes.
You will make the victory sign
After you exit the bathroom.
A cheese toast will be what you look for
At the table you sit
Without the proper etiquette
With your fingers as your most valuable fork.
It will be enough to know only the 'm'
of make-up.
Your most expensive perfume will be the smell of cleanliness.
You will simply say "I don't know" when you don't
And it will be very normal that you indeed don't.
Your watch will only show the time;
A small notebook will be all you need for your computing needs.
You will simply, simply live.
Just as if one day this life of yours
Will simply end.
M.
Pittsburgh 5 September 2001
Copyleft notice: Copyright (C) 1999-2005 Mustafa Ünlü. This information is free; you can redistribute it and/or modify it under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by the Free Software Foundation; either version 2 of the License, or (at your option) any later version.