I Lost My Pen!

As people we can get too attached to objects, to things, based on history, or cost, or sometimes just because it is pretty.

For me, there was this pen.

I already have this thing about ink. I prefer blue ink when I write. I am not sure why or when this happened, some of my oldest notebooks do in fact include the forbidden black ink, but not in years.

Getting attached to a pen, saying things like “this is my WRITING pen” isn’t such a great idea. I would spend more time searching through my desk or pockets or car for a single missing pen rather than write. I would push aside piles of blue pens, for the ONE pen, as if it was the only thing I could use to put down my ideas, as if it was the only thing keeping me from writing.

Meanwhile I am not writing. Whatever was in my head is slowly sliding out, and I am proving, yet again, that I excel at procrastination more than anything else.

Throw it out. If you have one of these pens, throw it out. I left mine in a bar, seemed appropriate. Use cheep pens, nice pens, use your keyboard or hammer and chisel, whatever. Just write.

And yes, I am writing to myself, but you can do it too.

These are the Ramblings of the Newly Old

“What do you want to do when you grow up?”

The question was asked to all of us at one point. Where is your direction in life? Where are you going? What is it you want to spend the rest of your life doing?

The rest of my life.

That is a bit of time for one thing, one task, one GOAL. Seems too much for any one thing to take, a burden even Atlas would cringe at.

So perhaps instead of what do I want to do, it should be what do I want to do for now? Now I seem to be doing well as an engineer, part time writer. If I had a say, it would be the other way. Writing every day and consulting as an engineer. One of these days, no?

That being said, I was a web programmer once upon a time. Something I still dabble in, still mingle at parties with. I’d go back there too if it was something interesting. Database programming for corporate websites would not be my ideal.

So what do I want to be when I grow up? Well, since I don’t have plans to grow up, I suppose I have time to figure it out.

June, a retrospective

June found me in the desert. It found me in the car. June drove, occasionally, but only when I didn’t want to go that way in the first place.

June found the floor of my house after ripping up the carpet to install laminate. It did not, however, stick around to finish the job.

June brought a new motorcycle in my garage that I don’t own, but had to fix. It found my motorcycle in parts and ignored it.

June read a kick as Sci-Fi novel one morning at the pub, pint in one hand.

June called twice, and left messages, but I never called back.

June was a wedding outside with five friends who have never needed tuxes to stand by each other. It was hot, but we were prepared. There was dancing and laughter and re-arranging furniture.

June found ice on Mars.

June never found time for a blog post, which is why this is in July. Or at least, that sounds good.

June taught me capoeira angola, watching as I did cartwheels, ginga-ed, and laughed until my body was sore in new and creative places.

June reminded me I am still young.