So I took a two month blogging break. Shoot me.
After becoming unemployed, I decided to take a break from everything. Anything I felt was an obligation, I unplugged from it. I took the severance pay and took time to myself to purge the fixation. Simple as that.
I also did not blog. Why, you ask? The short answer was that for those two months pretty much nothing was going on. I sat around here and did nothing. I tried to work on my book but it jammed on me, no idea why. Pretty much I sat around and played video games for almost two months.
You might find that idea somewhat repulsive. Self-indulgence to the highest degree. You know what? I don't care. I needed it. I needed a nice, long break from the grind. Now that I've had it I can go back.
At first I thought I'd try something different. I contracted myself and my truck into a nightly delivery route of medication to nursing homes around Indiana. The work was enjoyable, though a bit on the humdrum side. It turned out that it wasn't for me, though; not only did the company take every chance it could to screw me out of money, I also hit a deer and destroyed my truck. I'd only been at the job for two weeks and I'd already obliterated my vehicle. The signs, as the eight ball say, pointed to no. So I quit that and am now returning to my office, which coincidentally developed an opening for me.
I feel that--and correct me if I'm wrong here--that my unplugging from everything may have accidentally disconnected me from my relationship with my friends as well. That I would also like to remedy, if you guys are still reading. Here's hoping you are.
Anyway, I will write more tomorrow. Time to start hooking back in to life.
1 comment:
My love, we are creatures of self-indulgence. There's no denying it.
This whole mess has had its highlights. Quite a number of enjoyable lunches, we've had a bloody wonderful time laughing and goofing off. I ended up with ideal work hours and you discovered that perhaps being needed in a less-than-glamorous environment has its own humble rewards.
I wouldn't worry about the book. When you're ready to write it, you will. I think you've been forcing it every time you've tried. If it's right, and if you're ready, you'll find the time and the inspiration. I hate to sound like a self-help booklet (wink), but this is one case where such sagely observation seems universally true.
You can't force creativity. God knows I've learned that.
Well, I've always known that you and I are not suited for ordinary life. We're disconnected from the norms because the white noise just doesn't penetrate. While I wouldn't say we're "out there"--leave that to Chris and his ilk--we're another breed that is equally distinct. We pursue our own happiness for the simple sake of wanting to be comfortable and sated. If this is hedonism, it is an entirely nerdy sort.
All I can say, dear, is that I've not been this at peace and this entertained in a very long time. If I could maintain this feeling and share it with you, I'd really never want for anything more.
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