“Are you happy?” The friend I haven’t seen much recently peered down at me over his horn rims.
We were huddled at a party at the Web 2.0 expo, chatting after much time apart.
“Happy? Yeah, I guess so.”
“You like your job?”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“Your blog’s shot to shit, so I hope you’re happy.” He shrugged.
I laughed. “Well, I’m having a personal life.”
“Just so you’re happy,” he said, and we both laughed.
(Susan sez: It’s impossible for me to think about the time when I was blogging the most–and probably the best–and how it coincided with some truly bad stuff in my personal life and was that one good thing I had and could control. These days, I know I could spend more time blogging, but I don’t choose to–and I consider that a higher order problem, one I am fortunate to have.)

“Are you happy?” The friend I haven’t seen much recently peered down at me over his horn rims.
We were huddled at a party at the Web 2.0 expo, chatting after much time apart.
“Happy? Yeah, I guess so.”
“You like your job?”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“Your blog’s shot to shit, so I hope you’re happy.” He shrugged.
I laughed. “Well, I’m having a personal life.”
“Just so you’re happy,” he said, and we both laughed.
(Susan sez: It’s impossible for me to think about the time when I was blogging the most–and probably the best–and how it coincided with some truly bad stuff in my personal life and was that one good thing I had and could control. These days, I know I could spend more time blogging, but I don’t choose to–and I consider that a higher order problem, one I am fortunate to have.)