What can YOU say in six sentences?
I busied myself writing up a storm—more than I had produced in the previous ten years, and getting more of it out there to be looked at and commented on, while at the same time being exposed to truly impressive work by peers, (and having hitherto always been avuncular in style, substance, and chronology, that peer thing was important), my day job suffered in that I timidly avoided expressing the authority given me for fear it would require extra hours in maintenance—hours that would have to come out of those dedicated to my first love. Recently, however, requests for changes were granted, and though I was correct in assuming my writing would suffer, I was pleased to have my suggestions taken up and enjoyed the ripples beginning to emanate from my toe-dips until late yesterday when said changes appeared to be in danger of being swept away and disregarded, and that depressed the hell out of me all night long, so in the early morning hours, feeling like a diva whose aria has been upstaged, I wrote a brief six sentences half attempting to express my torment in a teapot, and half emoting in a vacuum. Today, on discovering more was manufactured out of the whole cloth of a misunderstanding and that my blurb had reached empathetic eyes, peer support solidified in my perception.
I rose, thought I was falling, cried out, you were there. What more could anyone ask?
Well, a day at the beach would be nice.