Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you’re keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls…are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.
-James Patterson, ‘Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas’
It goes like this.
Hold it. Squeeze it. Give it a hug and a kiss. And…
Kick the rubber ball as high as I possibly can.
No time to watch where it goes. I need to build a really big shed to live in.
(Rachel calls it little cabin)
Grab a hammer… no no. Nails are too permanent. Grab a screw gun.
Measure. Cut. Screw.
Put up a window. Put up a wall.
Put the tools away and sprint back to the ball.
Tell Me More →
It is a mathematical term.
Represented by a symbol: ~
It links to a page where I use my words to give the best approximation of myself. Approximately equal to what I am about. As equal as equal can be, when represented by digital words on a screen.
About me, but also about Burger A and Burger B.
I’ve also added a couple of features.
Footnotes. I saw The Internet’s Own Boy the other day. I really enjoyed it. It inspired me to read some of Aaron’s blog. I liked his use of footnotes. Seemed like a good way of not interrupting the flow.
Fonts. I like pretty things. I’d be happier if my blog was prettier. I think fonts help.
Contact. Feel free to use it. I’ve actually got it sending to my personal email. Is that dumb?
Hope everyone enjoys some good family, friends, and food this week.
Off to find a turkey.
The rooster crows early. Still dark. It’s off key.
One of the many sounds of the night out here. Fewer and fewer wake me up as my ears have gradually grown to identify them all.
Each sheep chewing cud makes me picture it’s cute face. Pleasant night time images.
I’ve been finding sleep more restful. But last night I was restless.
Thoughts. Ideas. Wanting to get started. My excitement is matched by my anxiety of trying to piece it all together.
I checked the time at 6. The alarm went off at 6:30.
Last one out of bed makes it. I fell too easily into that routine. But the past week has been better.
We get up together. She grabs her work gear. I grab mine.
It is unusually warm this morning, so I get back in bed.
No fancy chair. No dress code. No wifi either. But the commute is short.
I lay on my belly writing. As I pause to think, my eyes drift. The bed sits under a big old barn. Massive beams support a corrugated metal roof. Rachel is wearing a cute fluffy hat while she milks the goats and sheep. Animals are all around me. Including Rachel and I, we are one shy of twenty sleeping under this roof.
This morning, this is my office.
Out to Sea
I’ve been a lot of places. I’ve never been anywhere like this.
My mind is a wheel. As it continues to spin, I realize I won’t fall asleep until it slows down a bit.
But that’s hard. The sunrise after next, four wheels are going to be spinning an awful lot.
Our mapped itinerary resembles one of those old connect-the-dots drawings, one penciled by a 6 year old navigating his first wet fart. Over 25 stops. Over 100 hours of driving time. Back to back family reunions. The company we seek from age 6 months to 85.
Where does this meandering path lead?
I can’t say. I don’t know.
But I can tell you why, and that I know it is right.
Another time. The spin is beginning to slow.
There will come a day that I will want to stop working. Then what?
That’s what I’m told, that I should start planning for retirement.
The abstract has structure too. A base on which things are built. It’s simple physics. If the foundation loses its structural integrity, there is risk of collapse. I’m an engineer, I should understand that.
But what I was doing felt too much like floating. Why worry about physics if I’m defying gravity?
But I wasn’t. I’d been trying to tell myself that. The cruise was terminal.
The road had not yet been built.
This thought had not yet fully manifested. A gentle knocking. A wisdom nugget shaken loose after months of introspective calcification. I ignored it.
Instead, realization came in the form of a collision. Pedaling down a road, I was struck by a bus.
Lost. Deep in the woods. The first big ride of the season. I was exhausted from the tricky terrain and steep hills. Chugging along because what else is there to do. As long as you keep moving, eventually you find something. Something familiar maybe, anything to give you a sense of where you are and what direction you need to go. Read On…
You should know, I’m coming for you. Your scent is in the air. Like blood to a shark. The water is murky, but I will find my way.
When you least expect it, I will appear. I’ve been shut up. My own doing. I’m kind of pissed about it.
Now I’m hungry.
No idea where I’m going. Know not what I’m doing.
But it’s time to feed.
It could get messy.
But rest assured.
It will be a feast.