So much for the best laid plans. Where I was on the road last week, so too shall I be on the road for the entrity of this week.

Nothing in particular bothers me about this sort of on the road, primarily physical work. It is a combination of things together, acheiving in unison one state. It is this state which troubles me. For myself, it is rather not unlike being drunk.

I don’t particularly mind being physically tired. This is something which can be experienced simply by being, paradoxically, sedentary, which I would be, were I not in the reserves. However, being physically tired generally goes hand in hand with mentally tired—and it is this state that pertrubs me so.

I don’t like getting drunk because then I can’t think. Evidently, others get drunk because then they think they can think (or else it doesn’t matter), but I can feel the slippage, and it bothers me. On the plus side, I’ve discovered by virtue of the fact of being half-German that I can drink quite a lot of beer before getting to this state, so it’s easily avoided. Couple that with the fact that I only drink when I’m around other people—and that I don’t go out of my way to be around other people, unless they are a specific few—and it is unusual that I find myself in this situation.

This state is also comfortably distant in the normal course of my work, especially considering that I can—and in fact, have—gone all day getting things done without talking to another person. This pleases me to no end. Also I don’t have to answer the phone. [Insert heavenly chorus here.] I do not think it would be an exaggeration to say that the thing I enjoy most about my job is that I rarely need to use the phone.

However, on these trips where I am installing components—rather than shooting photography of the still or moving sort—I tend to dip to the state of not being able to think. I hate not being able to think. No doubt you are familiar with Vonnegut’s short story Harrison Bergeron in concept, if not title. (I had to look the title up myself, to ensure I had it correct.) The Handicapper General oversees the true equalization of all peoples, and the main character, Mr. Bergeron himself, is subjected to a crashing noise via an implant in his ear, restricting his ability to hold a train of thought for more than a few seconds at a time. Completion of the previous sentence, for example, would be impossible. After a few days of required ongoing human interaction, and moderate physical exersion over long periods of time, every last cackle is equivelent to the Handicapper’s handiwork.

But the worst thing relating to all this is not only am I unable to think, but in turn, I am unable to write. If you have guessed by now that the entire point of this entry is an elaborate excuse for why I’m not posting this week, you are correct. It is. Conveniently, it also wastes takes up an entire day.

I’m going to do what I did last week, with a slight change in method. I don’t know whether or not anyone cares about the prose as much as they care about the rants. I think the rants are more popular. They’re what most people talk to me about in person, if that’s any indication.

First, the backstory: an aquaintence of mine, Gail Martin of L’esprit de L’escalier has revived something which she had previously been involved with before it fell off the interents. This is the Fantastic Friday Flash contest. A random word is given on the morning of Friday, and participants have twenty-four hours to submit a piece of flash fiction related to that word. Flash fiction, also known as the short-short story, can vary by word length, but tends to be around 500. Gail has mandated a 350 word limit, so the task is especially nefarious.

The downside? Yes, of course: the entires will be around 350 words. Less, I admit, than you’ve come to expect. Also not as good because, after all, I have approximately a dozen hours to write the stuff. Anyway, we’ve done two rounds, now, which should nicely fill out the rest of this week, while I once again struggle with interpersonal relationships on the job.

That being said, feel free to vote on round two at The Friday Flash Blog. It has not been easy to choose in the past.

As for my excuse, it is only so much whining in the face of adversity. Also kind of an explanation as to why all this prose is suddenly popping up on my site. This too, shall pass.

-Ted