Michel.Evanchik.Net

It gets lonely writing for a blog and not knowing what people think of it.  So If you are reading, say hello.  Tell me if you like anything.

I know this sounds like a pathetic cry for attention, but it really isn’t.  What I mean to convey is the incredible loneliness of writing.  A professional writer gets paid to write.  Money signifies recognition, even praise.

The amateur hopes for recognition, but suffers silently, worried that either he has no audience, or that they don’t feel any compunction to respond.  So don’t be shy.  I can’t hear you breathing.  You have to tell me you’re there.  Stupid Internet.

Mrs. Monica Evanchik, my lovely and talented wife, has made an excellent mini-documentary on a US Infantry officer who got wounded in Iraq. In a short three minute piece, she gleans, from hours of interviews and many photos, this soldier’s story of attending West Point, being unexpectedly called back into service, getting wounded, and recuperating and rotating back into his civilian life.

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Sometimes the brain gets tired and it just wants to lash out. It does not want to think and consider, it does not want to explain and illustrate, niggling out every minor detail for the ignorant to grasp. The brain gets tired. The brain would like you to know this or that, maybe where to go shopping for a gift or what it thinks of an upcoming event, but thinking of the words, and typing them, and editing them, are too much.

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I had previously begged off any serious blogging to catch the Sopranos series finale.

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After years of a dry inkwell, I wrote thousands of words over 48 hours. Now I am sick of writing and I have four recorded Sopranos episodes to catch up on before tonight’s series finale. I am lousy at pacing myself.

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Hah Hah Hah!

I beat all of you to it! The first post is mine!!!!!