Shortly after last week's entry, my new route home was derailed by Taste of Syracuse, a huge annual event right outside our building. Which means some exit routes are blocked. Interestingly, Saturday night was the first time my choice of detours took me far out of my way. I ended up seeing some of the city's nicer neighborhoods. As much as you can at midnight. It made the trip half an hour longer. On a dwindling tank of gas. Yet another adventure survived.
My brother commented that I need to do what he does as he traipses across Kentucky — listen to audiobooks. I'm there, but not with the technology he suggested. So far I've listened to CDs of Obama's "Dreams from My Father," "To Kill A Mockingbird," and "The Speeches of Barack Obama."
Last week, I started "Audacity to Win," by Obama's campaign manager David Plouffe. It's very interesting -- and the only one of the books, so far, that I hadn't read or witnessed some or all of already.
But, I find myself laughing whenever the reader (not Plouffe) changes to his "Obama voice" for dialogue. Sounds more like Barack Stallone.
Next up is The Elephant Keeper. Oddly enough, I didn't think I could bear to listen to the Elie Wiesel book that was shelved next to it. But, this is a Holocaust book, too.
Something tells me that if it's stress-relief I'm looking for, I ought to find something in the Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert neighborhood next time I'm at the library.
A DAY AT THE BUFFALO ZOO, by TJ SCHUHLE
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
TIme flies
I feel like someone who leads you down a potholed path right into a brick wall.
Sorry for the infrequency of this blog lately, and I wish I could promise it'll get better, but I guess this is what happens when real work comes along. Real, as in paid.
Since April 22, I've been working a few nights a week on the copy desk at a mid-size daily newspaper an hour from here. So far, I seem to have substituted work stress for driving stress. Almost every week I find, try or am given a new route home. Last week's was the best and may be a keeper. I knew it had potential when Co-worker Laura tried to look out the window and point out the first of two turns. (Tried, because it's hard to see at midnight.)
I've also been ... let's see ...
* editing copy for health magazines produced in the Midwest
* designing two brochures for my church
* finishing up minutes for three organizations I volunteer with
* editing and fact-checking 200 trivia questions a week
* looking for more work
* feeling guilty because I don't get more done
* looking into why an eBay seller prefers not to do business with me (Would you believe there are a bunch of top sellers who banded together to refuse to sell to anyone who leaves negative feedback to any of them? So much for accountability.)
Yada and yada and yada.
More to come.
Promise.
Sort of.
Sorry for the infrequency of this blog lately, and I wish I could promise it'll get better, but I guess this is what happens when real work comes along. Real, as in paid.
Since April 22, I've been working a few nights a week on the copy desk at a mid-size daily newspaper an hour from here. So far, I seem to have substituted work stress for driving stress. Almost every week I find, try or am given a new route home. Last week's was the best and may be a keeper. I knew it had potential when Co-worker Laura tried to look out the window and point out the first of two turns. (Tried, because it's hard to see at midnight.)
I've also been ... let's see ...
* editing copy for health magazines produced in the Midwest
* designing two brochures for my church
* finishing up minutes for three organizations I volunteer with
* editing and fact-checking 200 trivia questions a week
* looking for more work
* feeling guilty because I don't get more done
* looking into why an eBay seller prefers not to do business with me (Would you believe there are a bunch of top sellers who banded together to refuse to sell to anyone who leaves negative feedback to any of them? So much for accountability.)
Yada and yada and yada.
More to come.
Promise.
Sort of.
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