It’s Sunday night again

So…it’s Sunday night and another week gone. I read and re-read all the books on writing and freelancing that I can and I dream of the day when I truly can say I am a freelance writer. I guess I can now, although, no new assignements in the last few months, just the ongoing ones. I would dearly love to have an entire 12 hours to sit at my keyboard and write articles.

Other than that, we haven’t been real great about meeting together in the mornings (my husband and I), since the 18 month old alarm clock we have seems to know when we want to be alone and wakes up that much earlier. We’ll need to find another time of day.

I listen to NPR now all the time in the car. It occurs to me that people are interested in just about anything, now aren’t they? You can listen a whole hour to someone talk about the benefits of playing in a woodwind orchestra and not notice that you haven’t ever cared about that before. I think it’s the announcer/interviewer’s voice. They must hire people with voices that are just hypnotic, because anything can sound interesting.

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Sadness in the midst

I am saddened and somehow slowed down by the events in the Gulf. Hurricane winds and rains have ravaged this country and my daily life now doesn’t seem to matter. The things I worry about and the things that I seem to hold dear, no longer count when placed alongside the sufferings of others. My life is so trivial. I watch mothers hold hungry babies and wonder why I worry about what to make for dinner. I watch old women die in wheelchairs and think, there is my mother but for the Grace of my God.

What saddens me most is the idea that in this great United States, these things shouldn’t happen. As though we were somehow immune to tragedy and suffering. That is a lot of uptight, proud thinking and so wrong. We are no more human than others and no more important that the victims of any civil war, any natural disaster or any tragedy in any other part of the world. But our arrogance goes before us and says “Why me?”