NaNoWriMo: Day the Thirteenth

Tonight was the monthly SoHud Block Watch meeting, so I was late in getting to the keyboard tonight.  Also, my computer had some issues when I tried to log on and get started, so I was late hitting the ground to start writing tonight.

My energy was at a low ebb because I was IMing with an old friend until nearly 2 a.m. this morning.  It was the type of conversation where I would have loved to stay on all night, only because talking face to face was not possible.

The best conversations I ever had, whether in Athens, Cincinnati, or here in Columbus, were the ones that happened at night, and then, when you finally stop and take a breath, you’re wondering what that odd light is you’re seeing in the window, and then realizing that it’s the sun, and it’s rising.

Besides the sleep deficit, work today was far from interesting.  As much as I complain about the doctors’ various idiosyncrasies when I listen to their dictations, I almost prefer their reports to the drudgery of typing hearing officers’ orders.  The ones who type out their orders in a template make my life easier, since all I have to do is cut and paste the words and phrases into a document shell, proofread it, and then its on its way.  The ones that the hearing officers dictate are much more time-consuming and frustrating.  And orders were what I did today.

As much as I love and admire Karl Marx, he was way off base about this.  I never feel like I'm manipulating anything.

As much as I love and admire Karl Marx, he was way off base about this. I never feel like I’m manipulating anything.

I have never considered bureaucrat to be a pejorative term, although I am more fond of the phrase civil servant.  I think the latter term has more dignity.  Per the dictionary, a civil servant is anyone employed by a government (with the exception of the military).  The work is often boring, and boredom often fuels the fire of depression, even though I am very conscientious about taking my medication.  Boredom is as much a trigger as the many triggers that someone who has post-traumatic stress disorder may experience.

My fingers are barely going where I want them to, so that is a sign for me to post this entry and fall into bed.


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