Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Those conversations Bemo decided to initiate one of Those Conversations last night at around eleven-thirty. Why is it that Those Conversations never take place at noon on a Sunday, or sometime around eight pm on a Thursday night over Chinese food? They always take place either way too early in the morning, or at night when one of the two parties involved in The Conversation is not really in the mood to trigger any higher brain function above the one that tells you not to stop breathing in your sleep. I'm sure I surprise no one when I say that the topic of conversation was Bemo's employment. And no, I wasn't the initiator of The Conversation. He was. And he initiated it in a way that metaphorically punched me in the stomach: by simply saying quietly, "I'm not qualified to do any kind of work besides radio. And I wonder about radio. And I'm scared that someday you'll finally lose patience with me and leave." We discussed him going back to college for a second BA degree in another field - say, computer science. We discussed grad school, but the big problem with both of these is that for him, student loans are out of the question because of his wretched debt situation. We're working on getting him filed for bankrupcy, but that doesn't touch student loans. Mostly he wanted reassurance. And I tried to give it. But one of the problems with Those Conversations is that because one person is so unprepared for it, I wasn't much good because it was so out of the blue. So I'm afraid I wasn't as soothing as I should have been. The final result of Those Conversations is always a foul mood the next day, compounded with guilt and anger. 2:28 p.m. - 2002-05-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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