Hey there! Hi!
Yeah, I don’t blame you. The past eight months since my last real entry have been wild. I went to a virtual speed dating event, matched with a dude, we chatted for a month before meeting, and then we never saw each other again. (I thought about writing a blog entry about it, but that split happened months ago and he moved back to Minnesota, so fuck him.) Then I met another guy, this Brazilian cutie, but after four months of talking (and finally meeting), it deteriorated over Christmas. 0-2 in 2020. Not great.
In terms of work, I got a glut of speaking gigs at conferences, which was a quick way to bring in some money since the job search was still turning up nothing. Something did eventually come through — a gig working for an Amsterdam-based startup — but after six months, I left and started a new gig stateside (which between me and you, I’m also about to leave.) But the economy is starting to rebound in this country and jobs will be coming up soon as fiscal years end, so the market is actually kinda good right now.
Let’s see…what else. Oh! Things actually happened out in the world! We got a new president and our first female, Black and Asian vice-president! Angry MAGAts stormed the Capitol in Washington DC! And now 2021 is halfway over and Americans are out living it up this summer, despite less than half of the country being fully vaccinated as of the date of this post. (I got my Pfizer shots back in March and April, and I’m still at the house. Thanks delta variant.)
Did I mention that I turned 40 also? Yeah. Ouf.
Listen…a lot has went on. And in some ways, nothing has gone on. It’s funny how this past year and half has really fucked with all of us. I’m still in the process of discovering (and re-discovering) parts of myself after this period of time, and I think I’m finally ready to do the one thing I’ve put off for years and years — write a fucking book.
This book — which I’m calling A Book Called Draft — will be a collection of essays from, well, the Draft section of this blog. I’ve had ideas to write about this whole time, but just never sat down and typed them out and shared them. A Book Called Draft (or just ABCD) is going to be my last hurrah in the ongoing iterations of my online identity as the writer/blogger “Karsh”.
Why a book? Why now? Because I don’t have any more “blogging” in me. Blogging was something I started in my teens, did throughout my twenties, and tried half-assedly to continue in my thirties. Now that I’m ten toes down in the big 4-0, I’m not kidding myself anymore thinking I’m going to keep up the regular habit of blogging to an audience which probably doesn’t even exist anymore. Hell, I’m not even on Twitter that much these days, and I used to light that place up.
I might explore all that in the book. We’ll see.
Right now, I have nine essays in draft (and in Draft) with subjects ranging from love to sex to family and more. Not sure that’s going to be the final number, but I’ll see what else I feel I need to say once those are done.
So…yeah. I’m writing a book! Wish me luck, because I’m also using Scrivener to do it and am lost as hell.