Friday, July 29, 2011

Not Bad

For reasons that escape me for the moment, I am feeling a little sad. Maybe sad is not the word, though I don't know what it is.

I've been watching television, something I do relatively rarely. Usually, TV reinforces my decision to avoid it. But tonight I watched a "reality" show about how people deal with uncomfortable realities. And then another one dealing with how people respond to horrific personal adversity.

How can anything on my mind compete? It can't. But I don't want it to compete. Woof. Life can be a bitch, but it's not bad for me. Not bad at all.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

3 More Months

It's just a touch over three months now. Then, I'll be reasonably free to pursue things I've not been able to pursue for a long time. Like freedom. Like a new intellectual foundation upon which to base my life, or what's left of it. That may be a tad dramatic. But maybe not.

Monday, July 18, 2011


Well, what do you think about this?

Sunday, July 17, 2011


This is a personal post for me. Don't let it bother you.

I'm getting worried. Worried that I'm closing my business without giving it enough thought. Worried that I may, truly, be entering the realm of poverty, from which there may be no emergence.

I can't not deal with this because I have an obligation to my wife; I can't leave her in the lurch. But if it were just me, I could reasonably consider auto-euthanasia if thing got really bad. But I can't do that. I just hope I'm worried about things that won't come to pass.

Friday, July 8, 2011


I am having a rather tough time keeping my mind on work when I need to be working. There are obligations to meet, clients to satisfy, jobs to do, objectives to meet. But none of them hold any interest. They haven't for some time, but since I announced my intention, just about three weeks ago, to terminate my clients' contracts in a few months it has become worse.

There's no question I have the capacity to do the work, regardless of my level of interest or lack thereof. But something is keeping me in a constant state of lethargy with respect to "work" responsibilities. I keep telling myself it's only a few more months, I can stay focused...but then I realize I'm lying to get me off my back.

I can smooth this out. I can be mellow about it and get on to the jobs at hand. But will I? I must.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Abject Poverty

Abject poverty. It's a phrase that crosses the lips of a spoiled yuppie who describes what his life will be like in the future if he doesn't get a raise. It's a concept that somehow seems appropriate to discuss while suggesting the inadequacy of one's income. It is a condition most who know the meaning of the words cannot begin to comprehend.

Abject poverty is a condition of hopeless existence, in which the only certainty seems to be hunger and perpetual insecurity. That's not insecurity in the sense one doesn't know where the next month's mortgage payment is going to come from. It's insecurity in the sense one doesn't know where the next sip of water or the next morsel of food will come from. It's the insecurity of knowing there is no assurance of a roof over one's head tonight or a way to keep the searing heat of the sun off one's head during the meanest summer. It's having no place to turn for help, no one who can offer shelter or clothing or food to eat. Adject poverty is the most wreched condition, a condition that rips away every scrap of dignity and every confidence one will live until the next sunrise.

I do not know abject poverty. I only know of it. But what I know of it makes me think it would make me feel desperate and afraid if I had to experience it. There would be no room for humanity, at least not in my head. It would be a petri dish for depression and hatred and anger and suicidal thoughts.

Try to imagine, if you can, someone you love living in abject poverty. Imagine that person homeless, penniless, and threadbare--unbathed, uncombed, unkept to the extreme--starving and wondering whether the next meal will come before starvation or an untended wound snuffs out the last vestiges of life from a worn and fragile body.

I hope these thoughts make you feel uncomfortable. I hope they make you feel uncomfortable enough to dig into your pockets and pull out some change or some bills to use as a means of buying your way out of the discomfort by making a contribution to an individual or an organization who can help.