Begin with a cleaver title:
how to get totally immersed in something you love doing without anyone knowing about it
Part I: it begins with a thought in the back, and now front, of my head
I have this little secret, and I’m almost afraid to tell you. But if I don’t tell you, then what’s the point of me knowing about it? A secret is only a secret as long as someone else will benefit by hearing what it is.
Part II: something very important that happened today
Today I learned that a person who is very important to a person who is very important to me was given a positive report by her doctor. What was once thought to be distress is now hope. Love grew through hope today. I’m not exactly certain what that last sentence means, only that today, even though I didn’t see or feel them, I know there were lots of tears, and lots of joy. And lots of love. I am happy to know those I love, and happy to love those who make me happy.
Part III: the big things that bug me in life right now
I do not like my boss, and I fear writing about this issue because it may, as she would put it ‘come back to bite me in the ass.’ I do not like being bitten, or having been bitten, in the ass. I have written about my professional relationship, but only when I have not had an audience. I would like you to know about my woes, largely because I feel you would understand and perhaps feel a little pity, or perhaps send good juju my way. I like juju. I like juju and juice. I like both of these things more than I like my boss.
Part IV: a way of looking to the future, just to see how far away it is
I am considering a career change. I hope that, in sharing this information with you I am not setting myself up to be bitten in the ass. Instead I am looking to, perhaps, network, or to ask you if you have a job I can have, or to ask you if you think I would be good at certain things, like perhaps cooking without all the pressure of being in a resturaunt or without having to know how to spell r-e-s-t-a-u-r-a-n-t.
Part V: create a cleaver divergence; distract yourself and your reader
When things are at their worst, or perhaps when things are just not the way I would like them to be, I often look to my dog Petey, and I tell him this:
We could move to Nova Scotia and become tugboat captains.
I think it’s a fine idea, really. I have worked on a tugboat before, and I think I was pretty good at it. I tied ropes and chipped paint and worked on the engine (scraping gunk off the manifold) and I drove it a little. I liked driving the tugboat. I could do that. I’d be good at it. And Petey could be my first mate. I’d even get him a little hat.
Part VI: use humor as a way to disguise your true feelings
Speaking of little hats, I am also pretty good at coming up with band names. I have thought about creating a band name generator and charging people to use it, but to create a generator like that you have to know something about computers and when I have to know something about computers I generally call someone.
At any rate, I had (and still have) this great band name:
Mao’s Little Hat
I just googled it and nothing came up, so I doubt there are any copyright infringements at stake. Let me know if you have a band and if you want the name I’ll give it to you. I also have other band names, like The Cockeyed Nipples, Sourpuss Chew Toy and The Removable Squeakers. (I should tell you that Petey is the inspiration for the last two; a too-tight sweater is the inspiration for the first. I don’t know where Mao’s Little Hat came from, except that I always thought Chairman Mao’s little hat was funny.)
Part VII: an inward end–what they don’t need to know
I have strayed far off course. I meant to tell you about my day, and how it came to be that I should be here tonight, feeling fortunate for my good health and family and friends and how it came to be that I should want to write about all of it tonight but just not be in the mood. I wanted to tell you, too, about my job and my employer and how it came to be that lately I should be spending my evenings scanning the want ads.
But I’m not going to tell you any of that because I have found that I don’t need to. In writing a seven part blog entry that is, at first glance, superficial, I have realized a lot about who I am and where I am and what I need to do at this juncture. Amazing that telling you about tugboats and little hats could get me to a place of comfort and, dare I say, empowerment, but it’s true.
So once again, dear reader, I thank you for giving me a reason to put all this stuff down on paper so that I may see the stuff that’s not on the page.