I like to get up early and do most of my actual writing when the house is quiet. At anytime during the day, ideas can pop into my head, and sometimes I make notes about them, but if I really want to get some words out of my brain and into some sort of more permanent form, its best done in the early morning. I like the quiet, and on a clear morning I like to see the last of the stars through the picture window as the horizon slowly starts to lighten and the night gives way.

I usually put the kettle on first thing, but I don’t turn the fire up all the way, because while I like my coffee, I’m not ever in a hurry for it, and as much as anything else I enjoy the anticipation that goes with drawing the whole process out a little bit. Once its made, the time frame to enjoy it is only a few minutes before it starts to cool, because it needs to be enjoyed steaming hot, and so by taking my time with the preparation I can increase my overall enjoyment, savoring it that much more, with only the cat to share my private little ritual while the rest of the house remains asleep.

On rare occasions I’ll have second cup, but it seems to never be as good as the first. Hemingway wrote that the first whiskey and water in the afternoon was the finest one, and if you ask me the same rule applies to coffee in the morning.

So this morning I realized that this is a lesson in here somewhere. I’ve been out of the game for a while, and thoroughly enjoying myself, but it’s time to get back into it. To elaborate, I was employed by a large firm and compensated very well for the last three years, and in my opinion we produced almost nothing tangible, but we billed the client for every minute we could, expected (and told) by management that we as employees should be thankful for a job, with no acknowledgement of the violation of one’s personal character principles or the complete disregard for all the corporate posters on the walls proclaiming our high standards of excellence and it became obvious to me at an early stage that I had made a mistake in accepting the position, believing at the time that we were going to make a difference and that I was going to establish myself in the corporate world. Like the adage about owning a boat where your happiest days are when you buy it and when you sell it, my best days with this firm were when I started, and the day I left. In the meantime I grew complacent, whored myself for the money, gained weight, and to paraphrase Austin Powers, I lost my mojo.

So now I have enjoyed for a few weeks the liberation that comes with professional unemployment, namely a nice severance package, and some time to relax and enjoy the end of the year. But now it’s January, and in spite of the holidays I am back to my ideal fighting weight, wearing a pair of Levi’s that have been in the closet for years, and I’ve realized that even bad experiences in life can ultimately be positive because the dark and dismal shadow that they cast creates a sharp line between them and the contrasting brightness of everything that is good.

I’ve enjoyed my time off, but like my cup of coffee, its time to drink the last of it before it gets cold and stale. It’s time for me to get to back to some real work. I don’t necessarily expect it to be quick or easy, but what matters is that I know this, and metaphorically like the dawn through the picture window, the next day in my life is about to begin.