For some reason, I’ve alawys seemed mysterious to people. I honestly have never fully understood why this is so, but I think I’ve started to comprehend it a little better.
You see, I just Googled myself. And it is truly as though I do not exist. I have successfully made as much of a dent on the web as an ant makes a footprint in the sand. I’m honestly amazed.
This is not really any kind of existential crisis that I’m having. I suppose I’ve just been very protective of my own identity and there are no actual online records of my existence.
That and I have a fairly common name ;o)
I Googled myself not for vanity, really, but because I was trying to find a high school friend’s email address.
Her name is Alpana Singh.
Now, I do happen to know that she is quite the Chicago personality, but that is not why I want to contact her. I seriously have been thinking a lot about her and in the process of stirring stuff up around my apartment (trust me… a LOT of things get stirred around here) I ran across what she wrote on our Senior yearbook. I was actually getting misty-eyed as I read it.
And of course, Alpana shares a birthday with my son. I actually was thinking about her as I thought about my horrible gas. Not that the two were related, of course. But truly, I tell you… is it not the thought that counts?
Alpana was a really good friend. She was funny and kind of kooky and a really hard worker and she often covered for moi, the jobless, broke-ass mooch.
She made those long interminable hours of AP English (for which I am thankful, actually, since I did learn to write there) far more entertaining with the daily jogger and other inside jokes we had. I remember driving around in that old Mercedes she had, not thinking about anything in particular but just enjoying.
It’s funny how sometimes in life we’re so busy living that we forget to enjoy. And we forget why we liked people in the first place.