i'm still writing

Odd. At 11 pm on an election day, I am typing away, during my break, for a blog entry. In a few minutes, I will return to churning out my quota of articles, and I'm going to be doing this until sunrise.

I remember being hemmed in between the workstations of two old people in the office where I used to work. Listening to old people is nice. They're old. Some of them are nice. What is not nice is when they don't notice that they are shoving down your throat their cynicism about life, as they know it. Nobody needs that emotional burden, especially when writing takes from an emotional fount within.

My boss back then had me move out of that particular set up, into a more quiet area, where I was left deliciously alone, until I left that place entirely.

Now, I am still writing. A shift in content and format and purpose, yes, but writing still. I actually thought I'd have to try out a call center life and wait till my throat and tongue cramped up. Never thought there'd be a night writing gig like this one.

I could always go back to freelance if this one doesn't work out. Or even teach somewhere. But the odd thing is that I have never really tried another job other than writing.