Nothing from Stephen Harper

I just opened up Microsoft Word to write nothing. Seriously, nothing. Janet Rubin threatened to do something to me if I didn’t submit something soon. I can’t remember what that something is but it must have tethered itself to the “fear stupid” portion of my brain. The “fear stupid” portion being directly underneath the “What’s That?” lobe. So, I sat there catching up on all my lapsed blog readings because …. well, I forget to read them on a regular basis. Some people are known for their humility, their character even their wickedness. I’m known for forgetting stuff. “oh, that’s steve. He mostly shakes hands, calls you by the wrong name and always asks what the date is”. But I digress. I forgot, I am also known for digressing. Anyway, read I did to be inspired. Who’s kidding who, read I did to steal. I needed an idea so I was going to piggyback on the wonderful posts from Art for the Heart. Turns out I can’t even crawl up on the back of those pigs. Not that any of those posts could be mistaken for a pig unless of course it was about a pig. Oh. Yeah, I didn’t catch ALL the way up on my readings. So, if you indeed wrote a devotional about us sending our personal demons into the metaphorical pigs of our lives to run screaming to a metaphorical or even a metaphysical sea or had a beautiful photo of the sun setting behind a ….. pig …. then I apologize for missing it. Well, maybe not for missing that particular visual epic because, y’know, it’s a pig. Big fan of bacon but aside from Arnold on Green Acres one can’t really point to a pig at any time in history as a reference of beauty, an inspiration for war or something that Michelangelo would have chipped in marble to be auctioned off for sick millions of dollars at Sotheby’s. And we all join in as I say “but I digress”. What am I getting back to? You guessed it kids, nothing. And that is my point. At 51 (or there abouts. My wife will correct me) I have traveled from knowing exactly where I am going to a grinding painful halt of nothing. I do my job. I even like my job. But it’s sort of like the guy that sets up the equipment for the bands. It’s the bands that give juice to the performance. The band that inspires the crowd. Sometimes you want to be the one that inspires. So, I do the lifting and I go home but I notice that I just sit. Nothing. I read, watch the tube and …. nothing. I could create a sitcom about nothing but Seinfeld already had it’s run. No piggy to back there. So, I opened Microsoft Word and typed in the default font, Times New Roman. And I’m thinking of writing about that. I am a Times New Roman. Pretty tasty subject, no? No. Well even if it is it’s going to have to wait to the next threat because this ain’t nothing. And doing something is exhausting. Peace.