“Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip, yip…”
I got a job!
If it’s Monday, it’s recap day… unless I tweak the schedule. But in this case, I didn’t. It’s the traditional time to take a breather, review where we’ve come from, and let Caleb get off easy by merely writing introductions to previous posts instead of another lengthy diatribe. For the record, I did cram more experiences into the previous eight days than the typical standard. Rationales being justified, or at least repeated, let’s get on with the storytelling.
Last Monday, December 12, I began the first in a two-part series on surviving the holidays. The beginning entry warned people to be watchful of the seasonal malaise that can strike friends and family (or ourselves) if one doesn’t defend against it.
Tuesday I concluded the holiday survival guide by explaining why Death deserves an invitation at the holiday table. The spectre of mortality can cause more damage if allowed to float unchallenged about one’s thoughts, but if the idea is given a position and held to it, one can better understand the meaning of Christmas.
Wednesday I had my weekly recap (which I had posted prior to my Monday flight to ensure interrupted posts during my trip to Wyoming) and a brief, stream-of-consciousness update to let people know I had returned to familiar terra firma.
Thursday kicked off a three day collection of notes taken during my trip in various terminals, planes, and altitudes. This post looked at my lack of flight fears, airport security, and in-flight music.
Friday continued the series spotlighting some of the changes one experiences when switching to a smaller, budget-orientated airline. Topics tackled included bourgeoisie seating, baby faced pilots, and wrestling with my subconscious not to make cannibalism jokes.
Saturday concludes the series with a hodge-podge collection of random musings. In it I explain why I personally don’t run in airports, the symptoms of altitude sickness, and the importance of picking the right song prior to your final descent.
Sunday, after I had an extended digression on frequency of happy stories in the news, I break the fact that I will be starting a copyediting job in Wyoming. After waxing poetic (or at least copasetic) on the responsibilities of the press, I now have the charge to do something more about it. Note: If you listen closely enough, you can hear the neurons in my brain fire YIKES/YEAH at the same time.
To come: I’ve still got some scribblings on zombies I can work up, salad day offerings, and scattered observations about life with my grandparents. Having listed these potential topics, you will probably see none of them posted this week.
