Today was marked by an odd trend that I hope, at least in some ways, continues in other respects. That theme was being asked about various matters of interest. The theme started at work where, as I was somewhat frazzled even more than usual by a surprisingly busy Friday (which is my shortest day of the work week by far) and by being part of a ludicrously understaffed department, I still managed to provide at least a little bit of information about a matter that will, likely, involve a special report at some point next week. For some reason I cannot help but give myself more work, simply because I feel compelled to open my mouth. If I pretended to be ignorant, much might remain undone, but because I feel compelled to speak , I end up giving myself a lot more work. That too was a theme of today, and whether that is a good or a bad thing is not something I am sure I can say. At least it makes life interesting, and provides some sort of novelty and some sort of variation to routine, and that at least is something I consider on balance a good thing. Life can become too stale anyway if one does not change things up every now and then.
After finishing with work for the day, I rushed back home in order to make it on my computer on time for a meeting I had scheduled with one of the publishers I read books from. This publisher had reached out to the most prolific bloggers as part of the publisher’s platform, and unsurprisingly perhaps I was #1 on the list and the first one to talk to him. We spoke for about forty-five minutes about my experiences with the platform, some of the bugs I found in it, what sort of books and material I would want to see more of (more reference materials and audiobooks), and related matters. It was a pleasure to be able to engage in shop talk with someone involved in the publishing industry, given my interest in reading or writing. From the sounds on the teleconference, one could tell he was taking a lot of notes and found it quite striking that I had a lot more bandwidth as a reader. As I told him, if they allowed one to read three books or four books at a time, I would have no difficulty doing it, and I also let him know about my own process of reading and reviewing books at a fairly efficient clip.
After taking a break to eat lunch and do some reading (where I got finished with a book from a publisher that I had received yesterday and nearly finished with a large book that I had been loaned by a friend a long time ago that I had long delayed reading because of my concerns about its political bias), I returned home to find that another person was asking my opinion about a matter of interest, and that is the matter of news reliability, as I had answered a survey on the reliability of the media and given a somewhat pugnacious response. My reply to the newsperson was polite but blunt as I told him that I would have no problem speaking to him for up to an hour, but that it would be very difficult for me to find news sources I considered sufficiently reliable. Who knows where that conversation will lead.
Meanwhile, while all of this was going on, I had a look at the blog entries of mine that were being viewed, and I noticed one of those odd periodic confluences of blog views where it appears that someone was looking for what I had written about matters going back to 2013. Now, I must admit that in the course of my eventful life that was a very eventful and even fateful year, and one whose repercussions and consequences still haunt me on occasion. One of the quotes I had read the day before yesterday in a book expressed the belief that it is a more terrible nightmare to face the monster that you are than a monster that is chasing after you, and that was definitely a period of my life (going from about September 2012 or so for more than a year) where I clearly saw the sort of monster I could have been in the monster that people feared I was. And while there was an escape of sorts for me in knowing that I was not so monstrous, it was impossible for me to avoid the realization that what they saw was certainly not an unreasonable inference, however inaccurate it was. Needless to say, the period prompted some very painful soul searching on my part as to my own motives in certain areas of my life, and that reflection has clearly not ended yet. The fact that people were looking for some of my earlier reflections on the subject brought me considerable unease. Perhaps they will ask me in turn, or charitably read it even if they pass along in silence. If writers and other creative people are not kind to each other, who will dare to be kind to us?
 See, for example: