OK, we all know I'm a dog sap, but this story was so sweet. I've never thought of Harley Davidsons and dogs as things that belong together. I think a lot of people will now. Be sure to check out the accompanying photo gallery too!
Yes, I'm still here, and I'm determined not to be a statistic in the blog graveyard. But...I just haven't had it in me to write lately. I think I'm still in recovery from the massive report I completed at the beginning of May, which was akin to writing something that is much more than a thesis but less than a dissertation. It took 3 solid months of my almost undivided attention to get together. Stressful as it was to do, having it done and off my plate leaves a weird void, like somebody scooped out part of my brain and forgot to fill in the hole.
I'm now in a writing cycle on another project, though not as intensively, and I'm struggling with that as well. I really need some time out in the field looking at something new instead of sitting at my desk regurgitating something I researched a year ago but am only just getting to now. I've had at most 2 days in the field this entire year so far, not counting a couple of conference days. Seriously, when you'd rather be out on the mean streets of inner-city Baltimore than at your desk, you've probably been at your desk too long.
On the creative end, even if I have an inspired thought during the day, my words are gone by the time I get home, get everyone fed and in bed, and have some time to spend on blogging. I have a strict self-imposed ban on blogging at the office. No blogging, and no Facebook. Period.
I don't dare try Twittering either. I know I'd never be able to resist the tweets if I were interested enough in someone's doings to "follow" them. Status updates are fascinating little snippets, and thus a major threat to my general attention span. Also, Twittering seems like it might require me to acquire a Crackberry or some other handheld digital device, which I am resisting, because I don't want or need to be that reachable. If I'm away from e-mail for a day (or more), it doesn't faze me. Other people I know can't unplug for more than a half hour without full-bore panic on their part, or static from their clients and bosses. E-mail aside, I don't even send or receive text messages (well, except when stalked).
It amazes me sometimes to see how much things have changed in 20 years. When I was little and my parents went out without us, they would leave the name and phone number of wherever they were going for the babysitter. When I got older and had to babysit my siblings or other people's kids, I was the one entrusted with the phone numbers. I can remember occasionally needing to call my parents at a restaurant or some party they were attending, but it's amazing to think how much time people were just unreachable - in the car, on the train, in a movie theater, at an outdoor event. Your house could be burning down, and you'd be sitting there gawking at early Spielbergian special effects.
And it's equally scary to think how reachable people are now, and how imperative it is that people can always find you and communicate with you, wherever you happen to be. If you're a parent these days, not having a cell phone is bordering on irresponsible, if not downright negligent. Is it even allowed? I know on days where I've forgotten mine, I feel like one of the worst parents on earth. I have to call whomever's watching the kids to give them a land-line number of wherever I happen to be, and that commonplace task of the 1980s and earlier just seems so weird now.
Yes, I'm still here, and I'm determined not to be a statistic in the blog graveyard. But...I just haven't had it in me to write lately. I think I'm still in recovery from the massive report I completed at the beginning of May, which was akin to writing something that is much more than a thesis but less than a dissertation. It took 3 solid months of my almost undivided attention to get together. Stressful as it was to do, having it done and off my plate leaves a weird void, like somebody scooped out part of my brain and forgot to fill in the hole.
I'm now in a writing cycle on another project, though not as intensively, and I'm struggling with that as well. I really need some time out in the field looking at something new instead of sitting at my desk regurgitating something I researched a year ago but am only just getting to now. I've had at most 2 days in the field this entire year so far, not counting a couple of conference days. Seriously, when you'd rather be out on the mean streets of inner-city Baltimore than at your desk, you've probably been at your desk too long.
On the creative end, even if I have an inspired thought during the day, my words are gone by the time I get home, get everyone fed and in bed, and have some time to spend on blogging. I have a strict self-imposed ban on blogging at the office. No blogging, and no Facebook. Period.
I don't dare try Twittering either. I know I'd never be able to resist the tweets if I were interested enough in someone's doings to "follow" them. Status updates are fascinating little snippets, and thus a major threat to my general attention span. Also, Twittering seems like it might require me to acquire a Crackberry or some other handheld digital device, which I am resisting, because I don't want or need to be that reachable. If I'm away from e-mail for a day (or more), it doesn't faze me. Other people I know can't unplug for more than a half hour without full-bore panic on their part, or static from their clients and bosses. E-mail aside, I don't even send or receive text messages (well, except when stalked).
It amazes me sometimes to see how much things have changed in 20 years. When I was little and my parents went out without us, they would leave the name and phone number of wherever they were going for the babysitter. When I got older and had to babysit my siblings or other people's kids, I was the one entrusted with the phone numbers. I can remember occasionally needing to call my parents at a restaurant or some party they were attending, but it's amazing to think how much time people were just unreachable - in the car, on the train, in a movie theater, at an outdoor event. Your house could be burning down, and you'd be sitting there gawking at early Spielbergian special effects.
And it's equally scary to think how reachable people are now, and how imperative it is that people can always find you and communicate with you, wherever you happen to be. If you're a parent these days, not having a cell phone is bordering on irresponsible, if not downright negligent. Is it even allowed? I know on days where I've forgotten mine, I feel like one of the worst parents on earth. I have to call whomever's watching the kids to give them a land-line number of wherever I happen to be, and that commonplace task of the 1980s and earlier just seems so weird now.
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