Hello again

Happy 2022! I talk too much, because I do not write enough.

In the sense that this blog has been with me (haphazardly) for many years, — we have much to catch up on. In the sense that I abandoned it as I dove in to muggle work 4 years ago, it’s time for a new season.

There is a vast, deep, embarrassing story I need to start telling– that may come out of me in bits here.
There is a new season emerging here that may also see some daylight.

but mostly, there is a middle-ish age-ish recognition on my part that I do better – my work, life, relationships, and creativity flow better with a bit of separation, and when I do not practice good professional hygiene my work life and my relational life are negatively affected, so I am endeavoring to write more often.

Morning pages — so Julia Cameron tells artists to free write every morning. It’s amazing what it produces: one – it demonstrates to me that I exist apart from my role in my corporation. I also exist apart from the role I play in my family. By my nature, I am a noticer and a verbal processor..so these little aphorisms and analyses wind up cluttering the machinery. I’ll share them with the first person I encounter that seems receptive– even if that’s a professional error! They need to be unpacked/aired out .. so that they don’t affect/disrupt my ability to do productive work during my day. There is simply a bare minimum of self-expression I need to function well, and its quite a bit more than many of my coworkers are prepared for.

Work is great when work is a puzzle.

Truth is not as useful as you might think in getting leaders to make a decision. There’s a great paragraph in Emergent Strategy about this, but right now I can’t find it to quote.

I am also looking for ways I can share these essays in person/out loud – at least to try something new. So please DM me if you know of any.


In the beginning, I did not want to be rescued. What I wanted, was for this to finally work– at least enough that we could get moving again. There we were on the side of the highway, in the dark, on fumes. My wife beside me, my daughter in the back. (and unknown to me.. another daugher in utero!). It was not going well. Well this next turn, that will take us back to the highway. I’m sure there’s a connecting road over here- there has to be! We left that road because it was going the wrong place, and now we’ve been on this one as its slowly dropped from 4 lanes, to 2 lanes, to one lane.. and then gravel…and now grass. I was sure if we kept going it’d get easier any minute. The tank read E. The car rolled to a stop. My stomach was a knot.


“You need to talk to Jen.”

I was sitting across from James at a coffee shop, where I was trying to get him to hire me. He was not biting; he worked at a big local firm, they hired hundreds of people at a time… he listed well, but didn’t say yes.