Re-enforcement
Day two of my new enforced writing habit. Pity on you finding yourself here. The new maid hasn't shown up yet (this would be day two for her too) and I feel slightly rejected. Not that I'm likely to fall into an interminable funk or anything, but again it proves the adage that good help is hard to find.
I made a list of things to do in the middle of the last sentence. Took a shower, shaved, watched a bit of a movie on TV, cleaned up my desk and a couple of other things. Anything to take a break from writing. It's times like these where I'm both heartened and wonder whether I should really bother.
I've been scouring the internet for news and other tidbits to give me ideas to write about. I wrote a thing a week or two ago about Steven Vincent, who was doing what I wanted to do, but it sorely lacked. It was all about me at the end and I chucked it. This morning I read his widow's response to the Middle East expert Dr. Juan Cole. It was bracing, and proof of another adage, no good deed goes unpunished.
Cindy Sheehan has been making the blog and news rounds, and I'm glad I had none of it. Caught in the minutiae of the bizarre there is really no answer to events such as this. Each side finds reinforcement for its own views and fault in the other's, thinking that what they think is so obvious. It does reinforce my own views of the idiocy and self-importance of the major media, something that in my version of the perfect world would be reserved for blogs such as this one. I yearn for the learned and wise council of a media that takes its task seriously.
A friend of mine and her daughter are headed for the States this morning. The young one, aged eight or nine, is intended to stay for a year or so to get a taste of the monster. She'll be staying outside of Boston with friends of the family and will be sure, I think, of getting a good dose of liberal education. She's pretty, and spoiled, and will likely enjoy the attention she'll get, but she's also smart and I hope she pays attention to the condescension. It will be fascinating to speak with her in a year's time.
This afternoon I'll break out the book and see what the hell I wrote already. I keep getting new ideas but I have to suppress them, as they don't fit in with the original gist. My original idea of coming down here to write, as I would have none of the distractions up north, has been shot to hell, which proves yet another adage, no matter where you go, there you are. There, aren't you glad you came by?
