writing over cold cuts

Today I decided to escape out of the office. Ahhhh. The slight chill to a damp spring afternoon. Even in the 50’s it was a brisk thing to be greeted with but still a much-welcomed contrast to cubicle-land.

I’m learning the plague of taking an idea seemingly good in concept and managing to interpret it into something interesting, fleshed-out, and yet cohesive in black and white, 10-point Arial type. Argh. Much easier in theory than in practice. And the funny thing about memoir is you never remember the degree of detail that you could have droned on and on about to your friend the day after. Heck, even the month after.

Around about now, I’m missing those journals once upon a blue moon ago I used to keep. Why did I let that die? Didn’t I realize those would be invaluable? What would have been great would be old emails, but those are long since gone two or three email accounts ago and at least two computer and the big PC-to-Mac divide ago. Sighhhh.

What I do have are pictures. It’s been amusing to pull out pictures from that time to try to put myself back in that moment. Even if it’s only a footstep closer, it seems that months are flying away. And I’m seeing it’s a lesson in patience. It will come. All in time, it will come.

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