I am standing at my computer at home attempting to do this. The house is quiet, though the headphones attached to this microphone would hide most sounds anyway.
This is a test.
You see, I haven't been writing. I haven't exactly been pumping out the write-ups in the past few months anyway, but more than usual I've not been putting my thoughts to the proverbial paper. Things have been hectic. I took a new position at work, and I don't have the leisurely breaks in the morning or at lunch that I once used to pieced together something new. Now my day is filled with a modern-day Gordian Knot, as I attempt to untangle 20 years of randomly created database accounts, shell scripts that move files from place to place, and the entirely undocumented transfer of individual files from one person's desk to potentially anyone on the globe. Like Hercules, I'm starting to believe the only solution is to cut through the entire thing altogether.
And this makes me happy, this almost insurmountable task. It keeps my mind busy. It keeps me from thinking about things beyond my control. But at home, in the hours between making love to my wife and that last grasp of consciousness for the day, my mind isn't so occupied. It drifts to places better left unexplored, the place behind the wind and before the smile. It thinks about the inescapable Janus-face of life. Mors Vincit Omnia.
My wife is a patient and understanding woman. We have grown together this last decade, and hand-in-hand faced our changing world through the early years of marriage, parenthood, sickness, and all of the things that a couple meet in their journey. She knows in the past I spent more time here. With sympathetic ear, she has listened to my desire on more than one occasion to be able to write with my hands. Always encouraging me to get rid of stuff, my old college sweaters, dog-eared books I probably won't read again, the detritus of a man quickly approaching middle age, she refrains from discarding my journals. They remind me of a different corvus.
She suggested I set time apart each week and isolate myself in a quiet room in the house. This is to be my time to write with my voice recognition software. So here I am, daughter asleep, wife browsing Reddit or Pinterest on her phone in bed, alone with my microphone and arm braces. I'm trying this out to see how productive I can be with this old version of Dragon Naturally Speaking (from 12 years ago, no less) and with the day behind me.
It has taken me an hour to get this much written. Honestly, it is more than I expected. And it feels good, and my mind is busy.