The wee hours of Monday morning, following a busy weekend of socialising. Taking time out to note down a few things that crossed my mind during the first Skype session. Firstly, that technology is catching up with the Azimov novels I used to read. Cross continental, multi-way conversations where someone shows me their computer screen, or themselves, gave me flashbacks to other impossible ideas made flesh. Once I had got past that, I began to feel daunted by all the reading. I didn't actually reach terror, but certainly horror at the mountainous task I appear to have undertaken.
Oddly enough, my general demeanour is that of a glass half full type. My knee jerk reaction is 'how hard can it be?' Broken down into manageable pieces, most things are, of course, achievable. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step and all that. So, I'm crashing in on this blog business, not sure what exactly I'm supposed to be doing with it.
So much information was imparted, I was only able to retain a portion. I did hear something about LinkedIn, I believe. I've heard of it and understood it to be some sort of shop window for 'other people', office workers. Do I have to do that? Really? To what end? I read through the handbook and started scribbling my Reflective Journal. First I had to choose the right book. It matters. The right book engenders the correct mixture of gravity and aesthetic pleasure. There was handbook advice on different ways of writing. I'm afraid I just dived in. I worried about it for two days, but ran out of time, so had to start. Similarly, here I am. No idea what I'm supposed to write, but, hopefully, that will become clear in the fullness of time. Or, when I receive the electronic equivalent of the red pen.
With the aforementioned red pen in mind, I shall cease babbling and fall into the arms of Morpheus. Adieu.
Rhoda
