Because I Insist

Balloons

Now that I’ve reached the point in my life where I’m actually getting paid to blog (during portions of my work day), I nevertheless insist on being as senseless and meandering as possible with regards to this blog. Why?

Because I need a space where I can type thoughts without having to organize material according to the standards of typical blogging. When I first started blogging, oh, about eight years ago, I remember having to think of a topic and write as though I were producing an essay for my English teacher. This kind of blogging is time consuming. And isn’t it mentioned somewhere on the net, something about nobody having any time for that?

In addition, writing without purpose actually sharpens my academic and professional blogging. Being able to drift in between structured and non-structured blogging seems to do wonders for the mind. In fact, if I wanted to be true to the matter I’ve been describing thus far, then I’d have to abandon any further comments about blogging and…

…and tell you about writing after having taken a pain med. It’s not very thrilling. I only allow myself to take them on Fridays or Saturdays, kind of a like a weekend wine drinker would do. I’ve been taking them again lately because after twenty something years of chronic pain in both my lower legs and ankles, I get tired of the agony. Contrarily, I’d prefer not take them. I think I’d rather be curled up with someone nice here in my bed, talking about great literature or making plans about going to the Redwoods. Ironically, sadly, it’s been the chronic pain that’s been keeping me from pursuing a relationship, but who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky; but interestingly, I at least have to ask someone to go with me somewhere, even if it turns out to be for one day.

See, I have to visit some friends; my degree was mailed to their house. Well, I’ve known them for quite some time and I can read their minds: they are baffled because I come off as the garden variety asexual type. Or maybe they think something worse, because I’m certainly not gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that). At any rate, I’m tired of whatever it is they’re perceiving — them, in their lovely married life — and so I’m going to hire a lovely young woman to travel with me to go pick up my degree. I don’t expect my hired girl to like me, so long as she pretends to, and at the end of the day, the perception my friends have of me will have altered, and I can drop off my employee wherever it is that I picked her up. I know what y’all are thinking, but I have lousy success in the dating department. And no, I’m not hiring a prostitute — shame on you for thinking that!

On another random note, I have a story about a person who I’m extremely enamored of, because we have so much in common it’s insane and well — and well, stay tuned! (Because it’s a nutsy story that is so nuts, you will have to read.)

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