out of words

it feels good to write each day. like a mental cleansing of my soul but afterwards, it leaves me feeling drained. out of words by the time i can sit and write a post, i am so tired that my snarkiness just gets sucked right out of me.

i am beginning to think that each time i think my working self will get a little downtime or a chance to catch up and catch my breath, a heavier weight or bigger project opportunity (depending on your point-of-view) gets dropped on me. and me, being the sucker/do-gooder or opportunistic-ladder-climber (again, point-of-view) takes the bait everytime. i am beginning to think i am a corporate whore. dirty girl that i am, sometimes, i even like it.

in the true spirit of multiplicity, i am just not a happy gal if all sides of my life are not in balance. so while i may not be able to share everything that i am working on these days in this format, i'll try to include a snippet here and there. and for those editing types -- you know who you are -- who i really piss off by writing for myself in ALL lowercase and sporadic punctuation, i'll even leave it in a proper writing style.

see, even i can be nice from time to time. a snippet is included below:


When animal control officers walked in with the stray, it was a scene that upset even the most experienced shelter workers. Jennifer Mead, then Director of Animal Welfare Programs at the shelter, remembers her first sight of the dog. “He was completely emaciated. My heart broke.” The stray, with his skin sagging, showed every bone in his long, lean body. His sunken eyes were cloudy and distant. His body fat stores had been depleted from weeks, possibly months of starvation, causing the bones on his face to take on a skeletal look. The shelter workers easily wrapped their hands around the top of his skull outlining where fat and muscle should be, dismissing their initial thoughts that his head was deformed. His coarse coat barely protected his protruding rib bones that seemed to end too abruptly at his narrow waist before meeting up with his jutting hipbones. Between the sagging skin and slow gait as animal control officers led him into the shelter, he gave the appearance of an old man, shuffling along with the animal control officer’s rope leash tied loosely around his thin neck.

* * * * *

let me know if you want to read more.