Disentanglement . . .
That is my word of the night, or I should say, the morning given that it is 1:40 a.m. in Quebec. But, hey, it’s 10:40 p.m. in my adopted city of Beverly Hills . . .
It has been a week of entanglements, following a few weeks of such, and a lifetime before that. I’m thinking I want fewer entanglements in my life, from the various credit card bills and the like to the seemingly myriad other financial crows that constantly beg for scraps.
My partner and I are thinking of downsizing, selling our rather large home and buying something considerably smaller and more energy-efficient — and paying cash upfront for it. With one fell swoop, we can eliminate all of our debts, buy a new abode and start planning for our eventual retirement. Which could come sooner than later, considering the downsizing in the media business these days.
Then there’s my LGBT advocacy writing in my other blog. It seems some people don’t realize it is a blog, which is entirely different from straight reporting or even a column. Mine is rather unique for a mainstream media setting, and I am not sure the folksy approach is working anymore. Thing is, I don’t get paid for doing it — it’s not part of my job. It is a labour of LGBT love, in my free time. I wish I could devote 7 hours a day to it, and do all sorts of research. But there is just no time for that . . .
I suppose we are all entangled souls, no matter how you look at it — both spiritually and physically. For a time, anyway. Eventually, we’ll all be released . . .
Which reminds me of song. I’ll listen to it as I sip the rest (2 ounces) of a glass of Cupcake red wine.
Good night . . .