I had lunch with a friend the other day and the subject of blogging came up. For about a year and a half, I blogged almost daily. Then quite suddenly, I ran out of things to say.
I have made various attempts to restart my blog. All have lasted only a day or two. But here I go again…
…I have no topic. I am just rambling until something tickles my fancy.
New Life: This week I got another nephew. Well technically he has been around for some time, but he made his first external appearance this week. I am happy for my sister-in-law and her husband. In many ways I am nostalgic for the days when there was a baby in the house. But I am 99.9% sure that I am done with repopulating the planet.
Work: No one understands what it is I do at work, so I am not going to bore you with the details. But I work with 3 different project managers (PM) representing 7 projects. I recently started working with a new PM. He is very organized and regimented, but is rather a bore on the personality front.
Why do I say this? Let’s just say, I joke and kid…a lot! There are a couple of people at my work that think I am funny. Most find me mildly amusing. And then there are people like my new PM that either have no sense of humor or find my personality irritating (like a gnat circling your ear).
I hate it when I have to work with the non-funnies. I think joking breaks the tension and gets people to think outside the box. The non-funnies tend to believe there is an economy of words with a very limited budget. They tend to be frank and to the point. I can deal with the non-funnies, but it does cramp my style.
So imagine my surprise when I found out that the new boring PM that never laughs was once a professional comedian! This little revelation came to me about 330 on Friday. I was stunned.
As I grow older, I realize more and more that I am a terrible judge of character. In the last 5 years, I must have heard dozens of startling revelations just like this one. Old friends reveal a new dimension to their personality and I am left gawking. Which leads me to the most startling revelation of the past few years: I don’t know Jack (jack in the generic sense not a specific person). I am a boxer. Not the punching variety, but a person who observes small behaviors and categorizes them…put them in a box…for life. I don’t know why I do this. It only hurts me. Categorizing people tends to marginalize the person doing the sorting.
People are so much more complex than my tiny little brain can conceive.