Random Words in the Stream

My 18-year-old is excited that he can vote and that he can get a driver's license and that he can legally get a tattoo in California -- the latter of which he accomplished last night.

But the DMV is no longer open on Saturdays, so our trip there yesterday resulted in disappointment. We're both anxious for him to get his permit so I can help him continue to learn how to drive a car.

Not far from the empty DMV was a crowded soccer field where my youngest had her second game of the season; they lost again but battled back from an 0-2 deficit to score late and almost tied it up as well.

After looking a bit tentative at first, she kicked into gear in the second half as the good defender she is.

I'm just starting to get to know some of the other parents of players on this team -- a big departure from the experience of knowing lots of people well after years of watching our kids play together.

So my son's team is 0-2 also. This does not look to be a year of championships for either squad.

***

Day after day, I write and write. The words tumble out, I post them, and move on. Occasionally I hear from someone who's read them, mostly I have little idea whether they have any impact at all.

Old friends and readers drop away, move on, find other sources for information. It's a political season, but there's relatively little worth saying about it, actually.

That's because the balance of power appears unlikely to change. Obama has a clear if not yet definitive lead over Romney. It looks like the House of Representatives will stay pretty much as it is now, firmly in the GOP's control. The Democrats have no chance to retake the House, given the current math.

The only house of Congress in play is the Senate, but even there it looks like the Democrats will maintain their control, though perhaps losing a seat or two. At 52, they need only 50, assuming Obama wins, and they appear to have 48, with six seats still in play.

They should win at lest three of those.

***

At least there is one source of excitement around here, as the San Francisco Giants close in on winning their division and returning to the playoffs, as they did two years ago.

The writer's problem is not finding the words. We have too many words, if anything.

The problem is the silence. Your own words end up in an echo-chamber much of the time, speaking back to you louder than you'd prefer.

Escape from this can only be found through human connection. But a journalist's work, all too often, relies on continuous conversations where we are the ones taking notes. So, as fabulous as the conversation may be, we're working at it and hardly enjoying ourselves.

A real talk, not for work, feels far better, even though every person I interview I try to forge some sort of connection with, even if only briefly.

After all, that brief moment may be the only one that breaks the silence, shuts down the echo, and allows some sort of relief from life on the hamster wheel.

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