Is it safe to come out? I think Ivan's finally gone, taking wind and rain with him. I'm glad I'm in Middle Tennessee where our only real fear was flash flooding and maybe a few trees or limbs down. I stayed indoors all of yesterday because I'm just not a big fan of rain, but maybe today I can go walkabout and check on things. My boss called me late yesterday afternoon to let me know that I shouldn't have skipped the "town meeting" Wednesday afternoon. They gave out the People's Choice Awards for employees in Informatics who "exemplify the Informatics Core Values ", and surprisingly enough, I was a nominee. All jokes aside, I'm truly touched, because it's my understanding that I had several nominations. I just do my job, and most days I don't think I'm doing a very good job of it, but apparently I am making a difference. I'd like to say thank you to those who thought of me when they filled out those forms - you've made my day.
Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
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