March 20-26 2026
March 20–26, 2026
Work took over the week. Back-to-back sessions, full days, the usual rhythm. In a strange way, it gives me energy rather than draining it. I like the work. Being a communications trainer still feels right to me, even after all these years. And doing it online changes everything. No long commute, no wasted hours getting back and forth. Just step upstairs, run the sessions, and then step back into my own space.
Before the week started, though, there was the weekend. That was different.
A friend came out to the house and ended up staying the night, which almost never happens. Usually it’s a daytime visit, a few hours, and that’s it. But this time he suggested we just stay up and hang out. He drank. I didn’t. We talked. A lot. We finally crashed around two in the morning.
He’s one of the few people who’s been around for a long time. I don’t have many friends, and I’ve never really wanted many. But he’s stayed. And this time we ended up talking about things we hadn’t talked about before. He opened up about parts of his life I didn’t know. I did the same. It was honesty. It was The Diane Method between friend.
It also made me think about something I don’t usually question. I don’t crave social contact. I don’t feel the need to be around people very often. I’m content with my wife, my daughter, the dog, and whatever I’m working on—music, writing, whatever project has me at the time. I can go months without seeing anyone outside of work and not feel like anything is missing.
And yet, when something like that night happens, I’m reminded that there is something there. Not a need exactly, but something that still matters.
Of course, I still make people come out here rather than going into town myself. That hasn’t changed.
The writing continues in the background. The memoir is moving forward, piece by piece. The truth-telling side of it—the Diane Method, if I still want to call it that—is still doing something for me. Not dramatically. Not in any life-changing way. But it’s not hurting anything either, and it might be helping in small, steady ways.
That seems to be where things are settling.
Work during the week. Quiet out here. Occasional contact. And the writing, continuing underneath it all.