Dumdeedumdumdeedeedum
After nearly three years in the UK, I am starting to think more about writing. I've gotten completely out of the habit -- not just LJ, but keeping my own journal and the big stack of poetry I'd been working on. I honestly believe it was the trauma of leaving and trying to get used to everything being upside down. I think I've been a bit shell shocked.
Of course the problem with not writing anything for three years is that you kind of forget how you used to do it, so I think this is a good place to start... even if LJ is now Russian and Putin will hold my thoughts hostage or have his puppet Snowden hold me up as an example of western oppression. Or more likely, western fatandlaziness.
Just now, the dregs of Hurricane Bertha are rolling through my neighborhood. For a good ten minutes I watched the last big band of storm come up. The sky changed from white fluffy clouds to dark as night really quickly. The wind picked up and I could hear the roar of the rain about ten seconds before it got here, which gave me just enough time to leap inside and close the sliding door. Giant drops of rain blowing sideways -- it was brilliant! I stood in front of one of the open front windows and watched the whole thing. The best bit was the rain and wind kicking up the smell of the lavender that grows under the window and saying out loud, "now this is rain" like the irritating American that I am.
It's so rare to get real weather here. Of course, when it comes, it creates chaos. Everything floods, everything gets cancelled -- except for work of course. You still have to get to work and if you can't they dock your vacation time. So not the workers paradise we'd all like to imagine... except I do get 28 days of vacation so, whatever.
K is working today -- a consulting shift that pays very well since it's a Sunday. The last time he did one, nearly a third of the scheduled patients didn't show up. But it's the foreigners what are using up all the money in the NHS. Malarky. They need to make people for missed appointments and repeated treatments of drunken injuries -- then they'd have plenty of cash.
Of course the problem with not writing anything for three years is that you kind of forget how you used to do it, so I think this is a good place to start... even if LJ is now Russian and Putin will hold my thoughts hostage or have his puppet Snowden hold me up as an example of western oppression. Or more likely, western fatandlaziness.
Just now, the dregs of Hurricane Bertha are rolling through my neighborhood. For a good ten minutes I watched the last big band of storm come up. The sky changed from white fluffy clouds to dark as night really quickly. The wind picked up and I could hear the roar of the rain about ten seconds before it got here, which gave me just enough time to leap inside and close the sliding door. Giant drops of rain blowing sideways -- it was brilliant! I stood in front of one of the open front windows and watched the whole thing. The best bit was the rain and wind kicking up the smell of the lavender that grows under the window and saying out loud, "now this is rain" like the irritating American that I am.
It's so rare to get real weather here. Of course, when it comes, it creates chaos. Everything floods, everything gets cancelled -- except for work of course. You still have to get to work and if you can't they dock your vacation time. So not the workers paradise we'd all like to imagine... except I do get 28 days of vacation so, whatever.
K is working today -- a consulting shift that pays very well since it's a Sunday. The last time he did one, nearly a third of the scheduled patients didn't show up. But it's the foreigners what are using up all the money in the NHS. Malarky. They need to make people for missed appointments and repeated treatments of drunken injuries -- then they'd have plenty of cash.