Like My First Car, This Blog's a Rambler.  

Email. Without it, how would the self proclaimed hermit make contact with his world? Yes, yes, I know. Any self respecting, self proclaimed hermit wouldn't need to keep contact with his world--thus the "hermit" title and all. Still stick with the plot here, and check your ability to reason at the door.

Yeah, sorry bout the plot thing too. It can be a bit of a disappointment to me too. Then again, I'm a self proclaimed hermit, where do you think I'm going to find a plot?

Ebay? For sale next to the Thighmaster? Not highly likely. Still, there is one place I can buy a clue, find a plot, whatever I like.

That's right! In email! It's in media, Rob! Yeah, it's sort of like in media res only less action and far more convoluted with unintelligible dialogue. Think Macbeth without the title lord and lady.

MACDUFF (standing in a field of grazing sheep, sword in hand): Despair thy charm!

WOOLY (yes sir! Yes sir! Three bags full.) BLACK SHEEP : Baa?

MACDUFF: Then yield thee-- Ya know, screw this! There's no climax! Where's my villain? Untimely ripped?

Yeah, I'm the black sheep: I just make no sense, no matter what scene you place me in.

"I'm your huckleberry, Johnny Ringo"

"Baaa!"

See? So I'm the self proclaimed hermit living through email. Today's email said, "Enjoy life for a bit!"

Yeah, I wasn't sure how to fit my wooly butt into that scene either. "Enjoy life?" But I'm too busy for that! Couldn’t life settle for a "cuddle" right now? Enjoy? How do I create that scene?

Life is funny that way. We forget to enjoy it sometimes. Sometimes we're too hurt to enjoy, still when the chance presents itself, we need to. You know, for at least 8 years I let my day job control me. Sure I made time for small excursions into life, but most of those were plotted kidnappings by MyEx. Was it my job that drove her off? What if I said yes? Would that change the end of that story?

No. It's already written So why ask. Still for the record, no; it wasn't my job. It was me. But see? Here I am returning to the scene of the crime. That's in media Rob. I don't start in the action and come back, I always leave the action to return to the beginning to grab a cup of whine. Yeah, not much of a story really.

"My Precious!"

"Baa!"

Changes the whole story don't it?

"Enjoy life."

What the heck does that mean? Right now I'm a relatively free man. That's scary as hell. I'm trying to devote my time to my writing, but having trouble finding the rhythm. Oddly enough there I have a story. It's just wringing it from grey matter into keystroke magic without checking my Facebook status. I'm writing, I enjoy it. I like where that story is going, no matter how slowly.

What about life? Am I enjoying that? Do I like where that story is going? I'm a chubby blogger on the cover of Heavy Metal with a Pirate Queen holding my waist and fending off the Care Bear hordes: Funshine skull, trapped under her heel, Share Bear wriggling from the queen's rapier, while Grumpy Bear goes, "I knew this would happen," and lives to tell about it. What do you think? No, really, what do you think? I need help. Is this enjoying life?

I'm a writer not a liver. After I lost my job, I decided to take time off and work on my book. Sure, I would doggedly pursue employment opportunities, but less like a Terrier on steroids, and more like a Labrador on Quaaludes. My focus was my story.

In working my story I spent two weeks with the Pirate Queen getting to know her, and now I'm spending two more weeks helping her move. Which story am I concentrating on here?

"Enjoy life."

I guess I am. So why do I feel guilty? Am I shirking my writerly duties or is my inner hermit showing his outer paranoia? I spent so long concentrating on daily survival that it's easy to unravel in just having fun. I'm facing two great opportunities here: to write and sell a book, or to woo and date a pirate.

Why can't I do both? Because I've been trained: you can't have your cake and eat it too. Which is the cake and which is the eating? I know what the Pirate Queen is rooting for.

"Eat Me."

"Baa."

"Ok, Rob, the sheep thing is creeping me out."

See? When you've locked yourself down, it's hard to get back out there, to enjoy life, pretty soon enjoying life seems like more of a chore than the routine. I'm trying to break that cycle. I'm trying to have fun. I'm trying to write. I'm trying to live. In media Rob. I've returned to the scene of the crime, now it's time to move forward.

It's an adventure. I'm scared. I asked the Pirate Queen to hold me, she's said, she would. That'll help. Adventures are better when shared. Maybe I'm working towards the part of life where I fit in.

"Et tu Brutus?

"Baaa!"

"Oh, that is a nice sweater, thank you very much! What's this embroidered in the collar? 'Enjoy Life!' Yes! Yes! I think I will."

Me too. It's just a struggle keeping my inner hermit at bay. He's such the critic. So forgive my rambling blog if it's font shadows have offended, I the sheep blogger will make amends ere long. Give me your e-hands if we be friends and enjoy life.