Stories from a life in progress.


Last week I was away from home, but I still planned to do some work. I didn't actually do very much.

I came home over the weekend but had to leave right away again to attend a concert, my older brother and the barbershop chorus he sings with. There was some relaxing time this weekend but more chopped up than usual.

Today I'm trying to get sorted out at home again, but I don't feel like I got very far. I'm also fighting with some rough anxiety edges, not debilitating so far but enough to make it harder to get to work than it should be. I feel some of those rough edges now. I'm not comfortable, not entirely settled. I don't know why. So I don't know how to help it either.

I've done some good for my family, last week and on the weekend and today. But my working life is treading water. I don't know what to work on or what to write about, and it's harder to face than usual. Scarier than usual. I don't know why that is either.

Today my life is untidy. I don't like it. I don't like the absence of purpose I feel, or my frozen, deer-in-headlights reaction to not knowing what to do. In this moment, I don't have a plan to go forward or a clear idea of what I could do next. All I've got is nerves and worry.

Today my life is untidy, and I don't like it.