I Can't Talk About It

You may have noticed a long period during which I haven’t blogged. In part, this was due to my recovery from Shingles, a process that is far from complete. I didn’t feel like writing.

But lots of things have happened that are worth writing about. The problem is, I can’t write about them.

This is because the events of the past month or so are related to experiences at work. Yes, I have a real job. And it’s a real job in an industry that takes itself very seriously. The kind of industry that fires people for writing about their job experiences.

Trust me, there have been events of high drama and outrageous humor. Events involving people who hold elevated corporate positions and would not like to read about themselves. It is killing me to not write about it.

Instead, I have to content myself with the comparatively mundane events that take place outside of work, and those events just don’t seem to measure up. It’s hard to feel inspired by my silly, predictable life when I go to work and it’s like watching Clash of the Titans.

So here are a couple of quotes from my lunkhead brother (I’ll call him Albert).

ALBERT: “Hey Tim. Do you ever go online and check the value of your house? My house is worth less than I paid for it! I’m getting screwed!”

Apparently, Albert has been living under a rock.

ALBERT: “Hey Tim. A message keeps appearing on my computer saying that there’s something wrong with Internet Explorer. What the hell is Internet Explorer?”

TIM: “It’s a program you use to go on the Internet.”

ALBERT: “No, I use AOL.”

Yep, under a rock.