Let me start by saying that pretty much my whole life has been a preface to this occasion. I might add that if this is Current Resident reading this I have been getting some of your mail for a number of years. Let me know where to forward it. Most of you are probably wondering what this thing is, so let me clear that up for you. This is not a pretzel. This is not a credit card or even a credit card offer. This is not a musical instrument (although it could be used as one). This is not a form letter asking for money! It's a form postcard asking for money. There, now that I've got that out of the way, I would like to digress for a little while.
Most form letters are boring and not worth reading, but this is different. If you read this postcard in it's entirety five times and are not completely satisfied, please return it to me with postage due for a complete refund. My attempt is to make this postcard read as if I were actually there just telling you these things in a conversation. I hope this does not prove to be inconvenient for you if you happen to be sitting on the toilet while you read this. I am not actually there with you, it only seems like it.
If you think this card is more Chris Taylor than you can handle at one time, read parts of it over a number of weeks. By way of introduction, I feel it would be appropriate to relate a few "highlights" for me this summer.
As you probably know, I have been commuting to EROS Data Center to work. One day I chose to go rather early to work. It was about 3:00am and still dark when I passed a car that didn't have it's lights on. As I passed I honked and motioned to him that his lights were off. He looked over at what I presumed to be his wife, and she said something to him. Then he rolled down his window and yelled, "It's okay. I'm blind. I can see in the dark." Now I know why they have the braille lettering on the drive up instant cash machines. Another interesting incident occurred when my brother and I drove out to New York to visit relatives last week. We pulled into a gas station and I filled the car with gas and went into pay. A woman stood behind the counter. I soon learned that she had all the subtlety and wit of a speed bump. She must have had a few pages stuck together because she told me that I was ugly. No big deal, right, I could take it. I've been taking it for twenty-two years. However, we had been in the car for a number of hours and I was less than my usual pleasant self. I turned to her and said, "I may be ugly, but you're fat, and I can have plastic surgery." I don't know if it was the car that came crashing through the front of the store and hit her, or what I said that made her start crying.
With the extra commute to and from work, I have had a little more time to think. I have worked through most of life's difficult questions, but there are still a few that puzzle me and a few questions about you that I didn't bothered to ask you when I had the chance. I have listed a few of them in hopes that you may be able to help me with them.
Once there was a woman in Pittsburgh. We will call her Gina. Gina really wanted to make a difference. Ever since being exposed to subtraction in third grade she had always been fascinated by it. Due to financial difficulties Gina had to abort her quest to make a difference and just stick with addition.
Edward Hamilton has a sad story as well. Eddie was in his second year of a Ph.D. program and things turned sour. A number of home improvement projects gone bad caused some financial difficulties that Eddie couldn't seem to deal with. Eddie dropped out of school and went off the deep end. He swam to the other side and got out of the pool. He then went off the shallow end. He knocked his head on the bottom of the pool. I know that there is more to this story, but Eddie doesn't remember it.
As you can see from the last two stories, graduate school is not a picnic. I am not looking for sympathy. I am not looking for empathy. I am not looking for apathy. I am not looking for antipathy. I am not looking for telepathy. I am not looking for osteopathy. I am not looking for a handout. I am not looking for an easy way out. I am not looking for my socks. I am not looking. I just want to give you the opportunity to assist in a noble cause. I have heard that money is the root of all evil. I have also heard that we need to have roots. Therefore, I am asking you to consider this matter. I am not suggesting that my experiences will be like Gina or Eddie's if you choose to slap the hand that has written to you. I realize that my situation will probably be much worse. I am prepared to deal with whatever I am forced to endure. However, in all fairness to you, I am offering you the opportunity to make a difference. Do you really need that pair of jeans, sofa/love seat set, CD, or book for your history class? Don't make a hasty decision now and then regret it the rest of your natural born life. Please, take some time to consider the question: "Does the universe revolve around me, or can I make a difference in the world in which I live?" Given the chance that you may decide correctly, and choose to assist me in a monetary way I have included number of ways of contacting me this fall.
Sincerely,
107 copies were made for Chris Taylor at a cost of $n per copy.