Wit & Whim

There I was, halfway into writing the blogpost that would be my Pulitzer, when the shewoof begins reading over my shoulder, causing me to spaz and accidentally close it. There are very few things that make me spaz so badly as having some nosy interloper gawking at my unfinished work. File that topic away for later.... The majority of all drafts that I write never make it to publication, and this is indubitably for the better. The editor can't stand pompous tripe, and suggests that I find some other rag to publish it. I am really very lucky; this attention to detail has doubtless spared me many face-palm moments (whose the palm? Methinks there would be no shortage of candidates). Blogging, especially for someone of my relative youth and inexperience, strikes one (yes, one is me) as an inherently egotistical practice. The egotism consists in my assumption that my opinions are worth positing--that all must, naturally, benefit from the wisdom of what I have to say. Simple scenes from ...

It is such an easy thing to allow a blog to fall into neglect. I have the most time to write when things are slow on the home front, but I bore myself with the banal material and chafe at my own self-satisfied pomposity. And when something worthy of chronicling does come up, well, there never seems to be much time to spare for blogging. No, that's not true. I could easily find time to blog. I find plenty of time to putz around. Since the end of this last semester I have been lucky enough to remain busy with work, be that selling suits or demolition on the new house. Penney's continues to provide for moderately enjoyable work at a decent wage. There are of course aggravations, some from customers, others from colleagues, and still more from bosses who think that the fact that I do the extra work the others won't means that they should demand even more from me. But these are all petty annoyances, and are usually easily dealt with. The Job remains pleasant, the pay decent, and...