Writing to an Invisible Audience
There are still new goings on at work. I lost one team member before, but as of this week I have two new ones, and a bunch of new responsibilites. I haven't felt this much excited exhaustion since I first took over my category. The only drag is that I'm still doing all of my former stuff since certain members of the team have yet to be notified of the changes. In fact, it's probably a good idea to hold off on publishing this until that happens.
It's generally a good idea not to write about work stuff here, because I don't know if or who of my colleagues may be reading this (big shout out to those of you who have found me). I have checked in on a couple blogs written by people at my company--some of whom I know, others I don't. It can't be a big deal; it's not like I'm invading their privacy or something. If I didn't want anyone to read this, I wouldn't publish it on the internet. If I wanted it to be anonymous, I certainly wouldn't put my name on it.
I write on this blog because there's something nice about writing to an invisible audience. I've invited Wendy to read it a couple times, but I don't think she does regularly. By making this public, I feel like I have to try to keep it interesting or at least focused. And this format encourages me to continue more than any of the haphazzardly scattered journals I've kept over the past decade.
Speaking of the origins of this blog, I started it after my father died. I was struck by the thought yesterday that with all of the changes at work, it had been a least a day or so and I hadn't thought of him. It's natural, I suppose. I read a short story in Harper's and in it there was a line in it about the deaths of those close to you become like small, hard lumps in your skin that never go away. The loss has gotten smaller and less painful, but it hasn't gone away.
It's generally a good idea not to write about work stuff here, because I don't know if or who of my colleagues may be reading this (big shout out to those of you who have found me). I have checked in on a couple blogs written by people at my company--some of whom I know, others I don't. It can't be a big deal; it's not like I'm invading their privacy or something. If I didn't want anyone to read this, I wouldn't publish it on the internet. If I wanted it to be anonymous, I certainly wouldn't put my name on it.
I write on this blog because there's something nice about writing to an invisible audience. I've invited Wendy to read it a couple times, but I don't think she does regularly. By making this public, I feel like I have to try to keep it interesting or at least focused. And this format encourages me to continue more than any of the haphazzardly scattered journals I've kept over the past decade.
Speaking of the origins of this blog, I started it after my father died. I was struck by the thought yesterday that with all of the changes at work, it had been a least a day or so and I hadn't thought of him. It's natural, I suppose. I read a short story in Harper's and in it there was a line in it about the deaths of those close to you become like small, hard lumps in your skin that never go away. The loss has gotten smaller and less painful, but it hasn't gone away.
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