Briarbabe
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2013
- Messages
- 684
- Reaction score
- 0
It's been a coons age since I've checked in here. But today it just felt right.
I laughed when I logged in and read my profile: Job - Writer (and someday I might get paid for it.) Today I handed in my resignation at Penn State. Five years in the books. My last day will be August 31st.
And I'm leaving it all because my freelance writing business has taken off like a rocket, yes, even during a pandemic.
I'm in the midst of a breakup (No pity for me, it's long overdue. You can pity him, he's lost more than he can fathom just yet.) making big career decisions. I'm sitting out here on my balcony in this blasted heat sipping a Manhattan and thinking of John (Fatman/Santa). What I wouldn't give to tell him, "I did it! You said I could, and I did."
So, for the first time in years, I pulled out my churchwarden (Boswell's) and a good pinch of Berry Cobbler (also Boswell's, first pipe smoke of my life, so fitting) and sat here sipping my cocktail, smoking my pipe and wondering what in the hell all of you are up to.
On my end, life is good. Hard-won, but good. I'm living in a nifty little apartment in an old newspaper building from the Victorian era here in Bellefonte, PA. I'm writing and making damn good money. And sipping cocktails on my balcony while I watch the world burn. (I'll save that for the Rubber Room.)
How goes it, fellas?
I laughed when I logged in and read my profile: Job - Writer (and someday I might get paid for it.) Today I handed in my resignation at Penn State. Five years in the books. My last day will be August 31st.
And I'm leaving it all because my freelance writing business has taken off like a rocket, yes, even during a pandemic.
I'm in the midst of a breakup (No pity for me, it's long overdue. You can pity him, he's lost more than he can fathom just yet.) making big career decisions. I'm sitting out here on my balcony in this blasted heat sipping a Manhattan and thinking of John (Fatman/Santa). What I wouldn't give to tell him, "I did it! You said I could, and I did."
So, for the first time in years, I pulled out my churchwarden (Boswell's) and a good pinch of Berry Cobbler (also Boswell's, first pipe smoke of my life, so fitting) and sat here sipping my cocktail, smoking my pipe and wondering what in the hell all of you are up to.
On my end, life is good. Hard-won, but good. I'm living in a nifty little apartment in an old newspaper building from the Victorian era here in Bellefonte, PA. I'm writing and making damn good money. And sipping cocktails on my balcony while I watch the world burn. (I'll save that for the Rubber Room.)
How goes it, fellas?