Shutting it all down for a time

2 08 2009

This should come as a relief for some, an outright cause for celebration among others.

Alas, I have to shut everything down for awhile.  The people that I work for are closing up shop.  That’s twice in three years and, frankly, it is starting to piss me off.  Be that as it may, I have accepted a nice job offer in another state, and will be moving the entire tribe some 800 miles over the upcoming weekend.  We’re going in blind, as I will not be able to arrange housing and such until we actually get there and see what the place looks like.

It’s scary, but it’s kind of exciting as well.  If I didn’t have a family to care for I think I would be a lot less stressed and a lot more adventure-minded.  What bothers me more is the interruption of my writing schedule.  For a time I won’t have my beloved "writing space," and even after we find an apartment it is almost certain that space will be limited.  I remember living with my first wife in a tiny one bedroom apartment back in the late 80’s.  I actually cleared out the bedroom closet and used it as an "office," complete with a small wooden chair and a very tiny folding table upon which sat my typewriter.

Stuffy.  That’s what I remember most about that.  And dark.  I hung a flashlight from the rod where you are supposed to hang your clothes.  It was a very focused environment, I’ll give it that.

And there is the fact that I will have to give up Internet access for awhile.  Maybe a pretty good long while.  For as many things as I despise about the Internet, there are an equal number of things that I truly enjoy.  I wish I could afford a laptop, and all that wireless Internet access stuff.  Of course, it’s fifty-fifty as to whether or not I could ever figure out how to make the wireless thing work anyway, but it’s funto imagine.

Life comes with all these strange synchronicities, though.  A couple years ago I bought an old Remington Quiet-Writer manual typewriter at a thrift store.  The machine works great for all of that it must be at least fifty years old.  I found ribbon for it and messed with it for awhile, then put it away in a closet.  As romantic as the idea seemed at the time, it simply wasn’t practical to work with it, largely because I am too lazy to consider retyping everything onto computer later.  As well, I like to write in the wee-small hours of the morning, and in spite of the label, the Remington "Quiet-Writer" is anything but quiet.

I drug it back out of the closet yesterday.  It lives in a nice–if somewhat worn–hard-shell case, bulky but not unmanageable.  I think I’ll take it with me, and use it for awhile.  There is something oddly comforting in that.




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