Now and then, I just lose the thread. Why am I doing this again?
Yes, some reasons are close to the surface: There’s a certain amount of fun in it. It’s satisfying to have my small but faithful audience. I tell myself that there’s a certain value to the practice in it: putting the words together, thinking a little about what’s going on out there outside the room, finding ways to distill what I stumble across into a coherent couple of paragraphs.
Yet sometimes that all seems pretty insubstantial. On one level, the world is full of people holding forth on the state of the world and everything happening in it. I don’t kid myself: There’s not much new I have to add to the general deliberations. On another level, any work benefits from a sense of purpose or direction. That’s what is occasionally lacking for me here, and is lackinng now: That sense of north and south, up, down, forwards, and backwards.
Of course, there’s a larger context for this: figuring out what the next step in my work life is. My journalism career has undergone a major change if it’s not in fact over. So what’s the next act: Well, maybe getting my B.A. so I can teach history to the hungry minds in a community college class somewhere — a natural place, maybe, for all that stuff kicking around in my head.