Obviously, I'm not able to produce columns at the same rate as when I was unemployed.
At some point in the last couple of months, my body and / or brain decided to go full bore with this "working" thing. I have no introspection remaining to me, and since my writing is -spection of some sort, either intro- or extro-, logic dictates that I'm not much of a writer right now.
January has been merely a month of survival, in the literal, visceral sense. I spent yesterday drilling in the woods, in the cold cold rain, and that was one of my easier days this month. I am sure I could regale my reader(s) with harrowing tales of frozen flesh and eyes crusty from staring into icy winds scrubbing the tundra, but I block out each and every day as soon as it is done. What I do is for work, not for dissemination of tales.
I told my wife, and I'll tell you: my days are so difficult and oppressive that I don't want to share them. I won't bring it home to darken my doorstep. I get home and try to be bright and chipper, if tired, and call that good.
I hope the morning finds you well. I am off, soon, to pick up an iPhone. The purchase of the smartphone symbolizes, for me, a checkpoint on the long and arduous road my family and I have traveled from the loss of our home, through unemployment in Texas, back to some semblance of security and tranquility in Pennsylvania.
I can truthfully say, we are doing pretty well. I hope you are, too. I can't wait for Spring, though. Winter is kicking my ass.
At some point in the last couple of months, my body and / or brain decided to go full bore with this "working" thing. I have no introspection remaining to me, and since my writing is -spection of some sort, either intro- or extro-, logic dictates that I'm not much of a writer right now.
January has been merely a month of survival, in the literal, visceral sense. I spent yesterday drilling in the woods, in the cold cold rain, and that was one of my easier days this month. I am sure I could regale my reader(s) with harrowing tales of frozen flesh and eyes crusty from staring into icy winds scrubbing the tundra, but I block out each and every day as soon as it is done. What I do is for work, not for dissemination of tales.
I told my wife, and I'll tell you: my days are so difficult and oppressive that I don't want to share them. I won't bring it home to darken my doorstep. I get home and try to be bright and chipper, if tired, and call that good.
I hope the morning finds you well. I am off, soon, to pick up an iPhone. The purchase of the smartphone symbolizes, for me, a checkpoint on the long and arduous road my family and I have traveled from the loss of our home, through unemployment in Texas, back to some semblance of security and tranquility in Pennsylvania.
I can truthfully say, we are doing pretty well. I hope you are, too. I can't wait for Spring, though. Winter is kicking my ass.
<3
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