Last month ago, I posted a rather incomplete piece of prose, which was basically done to show everyone what happens when you become sidetracked by the ultimate minutia that is called "work". Today's post will be another example of becoming sidetracked by another type of minutia called "why am I writing this blog post using my Dragon Software?"
Back in mid-October of 2010, I decided to make another attempt at writing a piece of something using my Dragon Software. For those of you may not remember this litttle tidbit about me, I seemed to be deathly afraid of writing with my voice. Brain to hands, not a problem (well, physical yes, mental, piece o' cake). Brain to mouth, unless I'm telling a funny story or having a chit chat with a friend, major malfuction.
Anyways, I opened up a Word document and started up my voice app. While I was waiting for it to open, I tried to find a naturally comfortable position order to "write" my post. I should tell you that the previous times were spent with the hands placed on the keyboard like I was going to type, then I started speaking (and doing the ocassional typing).
I finally found a comfortable position to sit in and began to write. It really was a struggle trying to write while speaking because I kept wanting to type everything out. Eventually, I was able to write about a page's worth of text before the well dried up (thus the abrupt ending). However, I did discover that there may be hope for me yet. I think that the only way that I can make this work out to my satisfaction is if I start treating writing by voice like I was having a conversation with a friend/co-worker or just extending one of my hourly five minute tangents that I do at work.
In any event, here is the post in question. The topic of choice was one of my bi-weekly/monthly drives to the Hemlock Hills campground up in Litchfield CT. Not sure on where I wanted to go with this, but perhaps this could give you a little peek into what my frame of mind was in around the early fall of 2010. I originally had no title for this post, so the title of today's post should suffice.
As I previously stated in my post of October 10th, I went out for a drive. Well, not really a drive, but more like a long road trip, at least for me anyways. As most of you know, I don't do long road trips anymore, simply because my decaying body can't handle being cooped up in a car for anything longer than twenty minutes at a clip. But, in this case, it was a necessary evil, because I had to pick up my wife and daughter at the campsite and bring them back home so that the daughter could go to a birthday party later in the afternoon.
So I got my tired ass out the door and on the road by nine thirty, and after stopping at the gas station to take care of some personal business, I was truly on my way at nine forty-four. Now normally on drives like this, I usually have the radio blasting, but since my radio was broken I had nothing to keep myself entertained beyond the thoughts that were rambling around in my head.
At the start of my drive about the only thing I really thought about as I was making my way through the suburban jungle and out into the country, was my short story Dandelion Tears, which I had started working on again this weekend. I was trying to figure out how best to advance a particular scene without throwing in a moment of gratuitous sex, but not having much luck.
I eventually stopped at McDonald's for a pit stop and coffee. Once I did and got those particular items done I was back on the road again, this time traveling through the suburban countryside (or rather, what passed for countryside in the Farmington Valley) towards Litchfield.
Once I got setting into a comfortable driving position, which for me was one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding the cup of coffee, I allowed my mind to start wandering again. However, unlike the first part of the trip where I was thinking about my story, this time I was letting my mind be influenced by the mountains and the rural countryside.
About fifteen minutes or so in to the second part of my trip, I had a peculiar feeling come over me. Driving through state routes 4 and 118, and observing the scenery passing me by, I suddenly felt like I was traveling back in time, or rather through a hybrid mix of two distinctly different views of America: Disney's version of America and Norman Rockwell's version of America.
It really is kind of hard to explain what I was going through during that one hour drive, beyond the fact that for the first time in a very long while, I felt completely calm and relaxed. I didn't feel like I was simply getting in touch with my spiritual side...