I didn't end up jumping on Sunday because the ceiling was too low. The class was fun though, and we did take a short flight to drop some jumpers for whom 6500 feet is adequate. I think first timers require 9000 feet. So we'll reschedule in a few weeks.

���� As excited as I was to do it, the postponement wasn't especially disappointing or anything: the constantly shifting meaning of jumping out of a plane has been a thrill ride in itself, and I think that will end once I actually jump.
����In the last three days I've shifted back toward fear and confound-ment, where Sunday night it seemed as natural and easy as diving off a boat.

���� The whole thing with Becky worked out horribly, because even less than we need conflicts over what's abhorrent and who needs to bend to whose will, do we need sneakiness and distrust.

����It's like I'm compulsively unraveling my life, and you know, it's just tedious.


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