Checking For Vital Signs

Have you ever had someone disappear on you for such an unbearably long time that the morbid half of your brain pauses now and again to wonder if said someone is, in fact, dead?

Yeah. Me too.

Sorry to have been the cause of your latest death-musings.
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Seriously, that would make a sweet greeting card. "Sorry I faked my own death" and the like. Very popular among Mafia goons, eccentric billionaires and soap opera characters.

Not only am I alive, I am chock-full of interesting things to say and share and contemplate. So why, you may ask, haven't I written for the last month?

Two things, really:

a) I'M BUSY! No, really. It looks like I'm on vacation, but I haven't had a free day in a loooong time. And YES, I know I can't whine, MOST jobs never stop at all, blah blah...

Society as a whole has a big ol' chip on its collective shoulder about teachers getting a summer vacation when the rest of the civilized world has to work nonstop. Trust me--not only have we earned our time off, it's the reason why more students aren't killed by their teachers each year in an act of frustrated rage.

Know how I know? 'Cuz golly by golly, that almost happened to me...but that's another post.

Anyway...even without official work happening, the days keep filling themselves! Sadly, the bank account does not. So in that sense, it will be nice to get back to work, but it is kind of a fun existence being faux-unemployed. Like I could fulfill some excellent professional hobo riding the rails fantasy because I have time on my hands, without falling into actual, crushing unemployment that involves having to search want ads and employ head hunters.

P.S. This is also why, if you live within the sound of my voice (no, really, I'm uberloud, that IS all of Southern California, stick your head out of the window right now and see if it isn't true!) you not only haven't read anything I've written lately, but you haven't seen much/any of me, either. My existence at this point is something of an urban myth. Blurry photographs exist, and a few people claim to have sighted me at the gas station or In-N-Out or something, but really, at this point, I'm like Elvis: only my rabid fans hold out enough hope to believe those stories.

Which brings us to:

b) I DID WRITE! No you didn't, I'm looking at your blog right now and I can SEE nothing's been written since July...do you think us totally daft or what? Bear with me, irritated readers!

I really did write--in fact, right on time, within a week of the last post, I totally brought an entire off the wall essay together, and then I lost it! No lie. I went to check a preview of my post to see what it would look like (because I'm so vain and previews are the mirrors of the writing world. In case you're curious, or feeling smart-alecky, YES, I do think that song is about me. I've gone on record several times about that fact!) and when I came back, the page was BLANK. Oh, it was tragic. That was a gorgeous post, it was.

So, I set out to rewrite the thing, and in doing so, a lamentable thing happened: I got too tired to type. Combo of two things: I write very late at night as it is, and I was frustrated at not being able to replicate the gorgeousness of the OG post. Which is when I discovered a VERY dangerous thing:

Save as Draft

As in...start this now, come back to it when you feel like it, I'll hold your place 'til then!

"Save as Draft" is a sexy little icon at the bottom of the typing page I use that reassures procrastinators like me and gives us free reign to put FINISHING our work off for infinite mananas.

Very dangerous. Because when I came back, I didn't feel like THAT post anymore, so I started another. Got tired. Saved as draft. Came back. Had lots of good ideas, but really wanted to get this new idea out into the world. Started a third post. Got tired. Saved as draft. Went on vacation. Came back. Wanted to write about the vacation...you know, "while it's still fresh!" Got tired. Saved as draft.

Yes sir. Yes ma'am. I have four works-in-progress on my behind-the-scenes page. And remember than unfinished for me is like an encyclopedia for a normal kid, so we're talking about a decent chunk of hidden work.

See, I'm not a nasty old liar. I did write. I just never got around to actually PUBLISHING, is all.

Oh. That's an important step, I guess.

So what did I do when I signed on this evening? Why, started a fifth post, of course! You see, I needed to explain what all this silence from the cabbage-front was about. But fear not, loyal readers: I'm not allowed to Save as Draft here...I need to be strong and face my fear of endings.

As school is starting again soon, I have to pull together all my summer vacation loose ends--and THIS is one of them. Hidden work must be given a chance to play in the sunshine!

Stay tuned over the next week for posts on: 1) Why sexism is really quite refreshing, 2) The worst form of psychological torture, 3) The future will be a scary place, 4) The band so incredible I asked security to rebound my poorly thrown panties back toward the stage.

I kid you not.

And as I do better with deadlines, even artificial ones, I figure if I finish up one unfinished symphony per night, I'll be all caught up by the weekend. Which should give me plenty of time to write one more new thing: "Germans: Not just for world domination anymore!"

And then, seriously: don't ever expect that kind of flurry of activity from me ever again. Once a week is plenty, thanks!

Please consider this my contract with you, dear readers. Then, if I don't deliver...you can come after me with a pitchfork and lit torches.

Until then!