There will be rain at last. The parched desert floor and my sinuses are grateful. I am battling my lack of energy by engaging myself in more projects, both at work and outside of it. Hoping my life will get more well organized as a side effect. Some of it has to do with missing my father and grandfather, I think. They were undeniably smart and undeniably ethical and had character. Somewhere inside me I have that too, I am still that 19 year old would-be agitator, reading “I Rigoberta Menchu” and hanging out with radicals in the PCC basement cafeteria. I still believe there are differences to be made and battles worth fighting. But if I’m going to fight them, I’d just as soon do it in a monsoon downpour.