Dateless
We live our lives. We are engrossed in our personal issues. Wars break out. Sometimes we retreat. Sometimes we get hooked on click bait or social media. I recently read that the earth is indeed turning faster than before. So time has indeed sped up. It is not just an illusion! I was right! Do you feel it too? Or is it just me with my recent birthday, that I think I am feeling even older, more challenged.
Speed Dating
I cry tears as I listen to personal stories of friends and colleagues. This morning it was a speed dating of young and old. Three minutes to answer one question, one-and-a-half minutes each. Ding. Next. Do you want to go first? What do you think of the question? What was the most joyful event of the last month for you? If you could, what one thing would you change in the world? Young and old. Experienced and talented.
Next
So here I am on my Dream Job Blog and I have no idea when I wrote the above. It is not dated. It is not published. But perhaps I can figure out when we did the speed-dating. It was first and second gens. I was so happy to meet Carina.
Now I have made an index for my blog articles in my database. I’ve added some links in the database to be able to go straight to the articles. It began when I wanted to know whether I had already published an article on a particular topic. Now I don’t even remember what that topic was.
Memory
I am memory challenged and so want to process my photos to leave a story for posterity. On my Trello board I have, or think I have, should have, or want to, put an item to write short stories. These short stories can then be put together into a book. Leigh Turner writes lots of short stories. I just finished reading his book: Hitchhikers Guide to Diplomacy and it feels like lots of short stories put together. That is certainly one way to write an autobiography. And if this blog and my other one are not also exactly that, then I don’t know what is.
Writing
Have you read stories that have obviously just been written to fill the space? I mean it looks like the writer had a job to do, needed a story and then began just writing about their own life, in quite a different way than their normal journalistic work? Their job is writing so they write and they get money for writing. In the end it doesn’t even matter what they write. They write. It gets published. They get paid. I feel like I am doing just that right here. I want to clean this draft out of my back office and post a blog. How superficial! How ordinary. How boring. I still need a picture.
Picture
So the picture I think I’ll post is the buds of the cherry tree getting ready to burst open. The changing of the seasons is another metaphor for the earth turning, not only on its axis, but also, around the sun. And it is taken another few months after the initial draft, marking the coming of spring.
