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I have a guitar lesson today, so I have been practicing with reckless abandon. Also I have "touch Me" by The Doors stuck in my head, because my teacher said something about the song while she was explaining the guidelines for a project due October 7th. The project is about "the Drummer Boy of Shioloh" which is apparently a book or story of some sort. For the project we can write a letter to a family member about being in the Civil War from, the viewpoint of a soldier. We can draw a picture depicting a scene from the story. Or we can write a song about the battle of Shiloh with lyrics set to the beat of an already existing song. I think I will do the song, give me a chance to combine my love of writing and music. I think I will set it to the beat of "Unknown Soldier" By The Doors. It has that part where John Densmore does the drum break and is has a very military sounding feel to it. In addition the story is about a drummer boy so it fits well. I just introduced a friend of mine to E2 and I hope she joins the community.
Until tomorrow,
Goodbye E2 Sincerely,

Dr.Jimmy

One of my previous write-ups is about the women who influenced my life. Today, with a prick in my heart, I realised I'd missed one.

I got a new singing teacher today. She seems nice and I am looking forward to my lessons with her. But it made me think of my singing teacher back home who taught me for five years. She was perpetually single, probably in her late thirties, and was one of the most genuinely empathetic people I have ever met. Although she is similar to me in the way we both mask our true feelings with sarcasm and a grossly British sense of humour, inside she understood exactly what I was feeling. She was more than just a singing teacher; she was a really good friend.

And then she got cancer. We all know that it seems only to happen to the most kind-hearted people. It started out as a melanoma and by the time it was operated on it had spread to her lymph nodes. A series of recent and somewhat awkward email correspondence with her has told me that it is now in her lungs and throat and is untreatable. She can no longer sing. 

As I write this I feel a dull ache in my heart, which I know is a total cliché. But whenever I think about her I start to well up. I've moved away now, and saying goodbye to her left me in tears for hours. We don't really keep in touch because we're not the best at writing our feelings down to another person. But even if my new singing teacher is a better teacher than her, she will never be a better friend.

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