Tuesday, September 25, 2018
In My Room
So, Lynette scratched an itch I didn't know I had.
Inspired by Joe, as so many of us were, I started this blog in the mid-aughts and posted sporadically until 2010. I have a notion that I can't really write when I'm happy, but I'm testing that idea now.
I miss those days and the friends I made through this practice. For the most part, many of us still remain dear friends. We bared our souls to each other here and that certainly helped to cement our relationships.
Some of us are still blogging, but Facebook (hitherto referred to as FB) provided more immediate gratification and we mostly migrated there. Now, lots of people have given up on FB (where are you, Mike Roberts?). I've always thought it to be a good way for me to meet people, albeit online, and to keep up with family and friends. I'm not one to get myself riled up into a political frenzy most of the time, and sometimes I have to step away from my computer when that happens. FB has been a magic mirror that showed me the love and hate that exists in country and the world at large.
I retired eight months ago. That's a longish story I might tell later. I've really enjoyed not working. I hadn't taken an entire summer off in 45 years.
I thought I'd work on my writing, but my mind is not nearly as sharp as it used to be and new ideas don't come easily to me. I considered working some of these ancient posts into a series of short stories. Of course, my main issue here is that I haven't a clue what to do with them once they're done. I wouldn't know where to start or who to speak with about the process. I have FB friends who are published authors, but I feel that asking would be an imposition. Yes, I'm still socially awkward.
Rereading this blog, I know some of the writing is good. I find my preoccupation with aging to be sort of funny, sort of whiny and pretty much right on the nose. Guess what? I'm old and happy. Who knew that things would work out this way? I can look in the mirror and not be horrified. I'm rarely noticed on the street these days, but I don't think too many people want to check out almost-64 year olds. I'm not helping matters by chucking my contact lenses and letting my hair and beard go white, but who cares. I have what I want and it's everybody else's turn now. I'm contented, like an old cow. I'm even back in therapy for the first time in decades and it's quite helpful, as usual.
So here I am. Not sure what where I'll go with this, but it will most likely keep me off the streets and out of traffic until I figure the next steps out.
Anyone still out there? Give me a holler if you are!