Return to the Normal

The thing is. . . I like my rituals and routines.  I've refined them over time and they suit me.  They give my life a structure that I enjoy.  They are, by and large, quiet and beautiful.

I like travel to other places, too.  It allows me to see my life from the outside a bit, to analyze it, adjust it, and redefine it where needed.

It was nice to get away.  It is nice to be back.

That may change in a few minutes, though, when I return to the factory.  Travel also provides perspective on that.

By and large, I know my life is grander than it could be, and I am what I have made myself to be.

Both for the good and the ill.

And that is the way it is with most people.  There is nothing special about my observations here.  It is common talk.  There are clever and stupid people everywhere, and it is easier than ever to exhibit that publicly.  I am not sure if I care to participate any longer.  I grow sick of the yammering--mostly other's--but my own as well.  I am tired of the common parlance.  I don't wish to swell the vocal crowd.

We'll see how I feel tomorrow.  My trip home was long and tiring (I want to sway "arduous," but that may be overstating the case), and I am still a little worn from it.

I have been without the internet, and it is awful to come home and read the news again with the exception that a man who fell in love with his teacher when he was fifteen and later married her when she decided to leave her husband is now President of France.  There was some hope in that.

Now, however, it is time for a return to the "normal."

But for a few moments. . . .