I am not one to throw things away. I have letters people sent me twenty-five years ago. I have t-shirts that could be applying for college. I have hummus in my refrigerator from before the time of masks. So it is with Marc’s Terminal Illness. I have been paying the monthly hosting dues on this website for the better part of a decade, yet I haven’t posted here in nearly half a decade and the total posts? Just about two times a decade. So what am I doing here dear reader?
Well, every once in a while, you find something that you have been holding on to for years and it actually has some use again. It’s one of those things that you uncover, and you feel like you won the lottery of junk in your own house. Like a bottle opener you got at some radio show promo that suddenly pops up when you are scavenging for your normal bottle opener. You pull it out of a junk drawer and nod your head knowingly, “I knew there was a reason I hauled you around for three moves.”
That’s what this blog is for me. My own little junk-drawer on the internet, where I basically have been paying my storage fees for years. I’ve decided to take out the bolt-cutters, open up the garage, see if the dead body is still where I put it, and maybe add some new things. Maybe I will get motivated. I may even clean-out the stuff that has been sitting in moldy boxes and decide whether it brings me joy. More than likely, I will keep it. Because, let’s face it, it’s easier to just keep adding to the pile of stuff that’s here and if I need to, get another storage locker. To be honest, I have never been able to Marie Kondo my own house, so I am definitely not starting with my blog.
I do have it in my brain though that I am going to start writing again. Which is why I am here anyway. I started this blog a long time ago as a frustrated, regional airline pilot. My life has gone through giant ups and downs since I first wrote anything here. It culminated with being a major airline pilot. Things were good. I was living in the land of milk and honey and then a global pandemic hit. So now, I am a stay-at-home pilot, which, if I am forced to confront it, means I am not much of a pilot at all. Then what am I? You, me and the Russian bots that still visit this sight will find out. Maybe we’ll even make it feng shui. I guess first I’ll have to look that up and really understand what that means.
