Your Own Editor
One of the managers at my office (who sits just over the way) is travelling to Sri Lanka on her own nickel next week with a group of doctors to help out however she can. I will contribute another nickel to help pay for her trip. She's a photographer, of course, a beginner - landscapes, as it happens - although this isn't a condition to offer aid (along with the rest of the office). How will this change her life? I have no idea. She's been to Sri Lanka, she has a relationship with a group of Sri Lankan doctors who live in the Bay Area, so this isn't some total leap into the dark. I say good luck and I say a little prayer of protection from diseases and after shocks. Particularly after shocks.
This new job is going better than I had reason to hope. This, my friends, is a much appreciated gift, although I must give it more time to really say one way or another. My current position, one I've had with this company in the past, doesn't require the insane pace of my last assignment. I was happy to have my last assignment, what with rent and food to put on the table. The cameras it allowed me to buy. I am, however, crossing my fingers and buckling down. In a new job, even a job you know well enough to hit the ground running, you still have to buckle down.
This seems, at least to me, a sign this year is starting well. It's been raining, I've been driving to work rather than walking, but otherwise there's a spring in my step and I continue to have lunch with attractive (albeit married) women. I'm not someone who interferes with marriages, they're hard enough to keep alive as it is, but I've found having attractive women around not only gets you introduced to their single friends (actually it doesn't, they don't have any single friends, although it sounds rational) but it does get the blood pumping and makes you sensitive to your surroundings. It's good to remain sensitive to your surroundings. I know many people my (not really so advanced) age who've lost connection to their surroundings and disappeared like ghosts into the pale vapors of their monotone lives.
Oh, man. That's way too fucking purple.
It's late. Things like that happen when you are your own editor.
|
