Cleaning out the cobwebs

To continue the vehicle metaphor from a few days ago, it seems like my writing engine is starting to warm up a bit.  The cobwebs hang from the block, blown backward by the force of the fan, and one by one, they drop away.

I’ve actually found myself wanting to write new poems, or songs, or stories.  I’ve felt a need to do something for me lately, and writing is my natural first choice.  That sounds selfish, but I’ll let it stand.  As much as I’ve chastised myself to think otherwise, it’s okay to be selfish sometimes, and in the area of creativity, it may occasionally be essential.

I’ve been thinking a lot about our friends who live in the area of the Crystal Fire; they haven’t lost their home, but the last few days have been very stressful for them as the winds shift the fire toward and away from them.  Fortunately, it appears that firefighters have complete a fire line on the edge of the fire closest to them, and containment numbers continue to creep up.  With luck, hard work from multiple fire teams, and continued cooler weather, hopefully the fire will no longer be a threat to anyone after the weekend.  Robyn & Chuy, our thoughts are with you, the family, and the animals.  Be safe.  To those who have lost their homes, I can only imagine the devastation you feel, and as weak as the sentiment may seem, my heart goes out to you, as well.

Uncle Sam and the Deep Blue Funk

I’ve been in a deep blue funk for a while, and today’s news didn’t help much.  I found out that my Uncle Sam died.  It was not unexpected, but it was not really welcome news, either.  I’m just glad he wasn’t in pain when he went.

I’ve never been very close to my extended family, but I can say that Uncle Sam was the uncle I enjoyed being around the most when I was a kid.  He was my mom’s “little” brother at over 6′ tall, and he embodied the southwestern personality of Coyote, the trickster (as opposed to Trixter, which is an entirely different thing.)  And man, he made a mean pot of posole.

Adios, Sam (Sheridan) Moulder.  I miss you already.

Rumblin’ to Life

I open the lid, dust off the keyboard, and sit in the driver’s seat.  I’ve been driving a lot of other blog traffic lately, but I don’t have the same history with them as I do this one, my blog from before the term “blog” existed.  I miss it, and I need to spend time with it.

I put my username in the login screen, then my password, and the blog rumbles to life.  It seems to be running just as well as when I last visited, despite my neglect.  I need to update the version, turn comments back on, and get back in the habit of driving traffic.  It’s key to getting in the mindset of actually writing, if I’m ever going to do it.

The look and feel needs a facelift, too.  I need to get back to the format that the rest of the blog has, and then I need to add all the static content to the database so it truly becomes part of the real blog.

In due time … in due time.  You can’t take a trip without making sure you have a course mapped out and the time and materials to get there.  I’m gathering all of that right now, and hopefully I’ll get back to the daily updates I was doing several years ago.

Messing with Perfection

Yesterday, two trustworthy people who don’t know each other used the word “perfectionist” when describing me.  Neither were trying to offend, and both were offering honest feedback.  I was a bit taken aback, but it got my attention.  I generally see myself as a bit more easygoing than that, and I always thought of other terms to describe myself.  Tenacious?  Yes.  Tending toward OCD?  Definitely.  Reluctant to leave a task only partially completed?  Absolutely.  But perfectionist?  Why does that word carry a negative connotation for me? What do you guys think?  Am I a perfectionist, and is that okay?

The Privilege to Bear Arms?

I saw a bumper sticker a couple of days ago that said, “Buy a gun: Piss off a liberal!”  I consider myself to be liberal in regard to most things, and frankly, someone buying a gun doesn’t bother me in the least.  It’s a Constitutional right; if someone wants to own a gun, that’s his business, and I have no problem with responsible gun ownership.

However …

On the same truck was another sticker that read, “If I had killed you when I wanted to, I’d be out by now.”

Is this person deserving of the right to bear arms?