mirror mirror

Originally from Saturday, June 13, 2009

I’m always hearing of other people with my name (firstname surname combination that is).  It’s not all that unique.  If I google my name, I find them: there’s the college squash champion, the woman who does triathlons (sweet!) and the computer programming expert.  There’s also a woman by my name who attends the nursing school at my university.  I get a lot of her email about rotations and childcare seminars.  It’s a kind of strange peek into that life.

Today, I discovered that there is also a model who shares my name.  She lives in the U.K.  I found some pictures of her, and it was my first time looking into the eyes of another “me,” in a way.  She is tall, thin but not uncomfortably so, and, unlike a lot of models, strikingly beautiful, with an intriguing semitic face.  (That may keep her from actually making it big).  Some friends I know who have gone through life with unusual first names are troubled to find out, through the power of the internet, that they’re not the only ones, but I was happy to find this other R.  She’s quite pretty, for one, and it doesn’t particularly bother me to discover I’m not the prettiest R.  I also liked getting to see a picture of “another me”.  Maybe that makes me a little strange.
My current reading is beautiful but slow and rather amorphous.  I suddenly realize I’m lost in a Nabokovian labyrinth and wake up to find myself in a field of rare butterflies.  It must be one of those books that the author writes strictly for himself and not for the pleasure of his audience, so I don’ t know how much I will get out of it except a deeper understanding of the author’s world, but there are some lovely parts.  There are many exquisite things, out of which I chose this one to post (from a passage about what happens after the departure of the narrator’s father–Zhaksybay is an old man from Uzbekistan or somewhere who had lived with the family):
“The shade of Zhaksybay, who had died the preceding autumn, slipped off the porch bench and went back to its quiet, handsome paradise, rich in roses and sheep”.
Well, now I have things to attend to before I go to sleep (which might be soon, despite the unexpected and overwhelming three hour nap from which I emerged only a couple hours ago).  These things are mainly letters, some to old friends, some to college friends– and one to a long-lost person.  I want to be a better preserver of friends, but I am a good letter-writer, so that’s a start.
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