Wednesday, September 18, 2019

September 17-18: What Happened, Fresh Starts, Words

Our heroes are about to be Kill-O-Zapped to death . . .

But the end never came, at least not then.

Quite suddenly the barrage stopped, and the sudden silence afterward was punctuated by a couple of strangled gurgles and thuds.

The four stared at each other.

"What happened?" said Arthur.

"They stopped," said Zaphod with a shrug.


"Dunno, do you want to go and ask them?"


They waited.

After reading Tuesday night's post, many of you might be thinking, "What happened?"  Usually, I avoid engaging in political discussions.  My only answer is that it was late, and I was tired and cranky.  For those of my disciples who were turned off, I am tempted to apologize.  But I stand by what I said.  The United States has become a society that has legitimized bullying.

That being said, I promise not to talk in this post about Donald Trump and the criminal acts he's committed since taking over the Oval Office.  If there's one thing that I've learned about bullies in my life, it's this:  bullies love being the center of attention.  Therefore, I will not waste any more energy on Donald Trump.

In fact, I am so tired at this moment that I'm going to have to turn this into a two-part post.  Everyone has gone to bed in my house, my ten-year-old son a little reluctantly.  I am surrounded by night sounds--a clock ticking, the wind rattling my windows a little, and deep sleeping breaths.  Every day is a new beginning, a chance for fresh starts . . .

And this is a new day.  Thanks for hanging in there with me.  This week is turning into one of those weeks where many little and bigger things are encroaching on my time.  Projects and bills and work.  By the time I sit down in the evening, I'm one of two things--exhausted or busy.  Neither is conducive to writing blog posts.

It's strange, but, when I don't write at least one blog post a day, I feel a little off center.  The balance of my day is thrown awry.  Writing is the thing that keeps me in touch with my inner artist, which doesn't always get a chance to come out and play during the work week.  These blog posts are sometimes my only creative outlet.  They force me to pay attention to what's going on inside my head and heart.  Thus, if I don't blog, I neglect an important part of myself.

Tonight, I'm feeling anxious for various reasons.  Being away from my wife and kids does that to me.  When I'm present at home, I can sort of maintain the illusion of control.  I know it's an illusion, but it keeps my mind at ease.  I sort of thrive on that illusion.  It allows me to sleep on sleepless night.

So, I give thanks for these few minutes of writing on my laptop, sending my thoughts out into the world.  Even with these small paragraphs, I am more grounded, until I can get behind the wheel of my car, drive home, and walk through my front door.  See my wife.  Son.  Daughter.  They remind me why words were invented.  To say, "I love you."

Words have saved Saint Marty, over and over and over.

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