The past few weeks have been very busy indeed. New recruits at work have occupied me. My guitar has occupied me as I've learned more material and prepared my first two (short) public performances. Longer hours of daylight have even led to more riding. Days have passed, and weeks, without a free moment to sit down and write. It's not that I haven't been writing anything. There have been reports to prepare at work, making me think and requiring some creativity.
Then there is the matter of my wife's tax. As a US citizen who has lived abroad for a decade she didn't know that new laws obliged her to declare all savings over $10k. These include joint savings. So now we're in the ridiculous situation that I - a British national who has never lived or worked in the US - has to declare my financial details to a foreign government. We owe no tax. But I need a US tax code and will forthwith be tracked by the IRS. Worse than that, I will probably be fined by a foreign government because my income has taken our joint account above $10k. My income, earned by a British national in Britain. Even though we owe no tax. I object deeply to my income being raided by a foreign government simply because of my spouse's nationality. It's fascism, and an affront to my rights. And we'll probably have to dip into our retirement savings to pay off those Washington fascists. Now finally I begin understand why so many American citizens are alarmed by their government, and why they value their liberty and their guns.
The ground is beginning to dry out, helped by days of stiff breeze. We've ridden fast across the smooth hills, breathing the silence.
A horse gives a fine sense of liberty. There we are, the two of us, free to travel. We're companions on the trail, looking after one-another.
There isn't much more to tell. Life goes by. Work takes a lot of time and energy. There is some stupid crap, as I have told you, and that makes me angry. Sometimes I get out with Brena, and then I can put the bad stuff out of mind for a while. When work is intense, it too drives everything else from my consciousness.
Playing guitar can be obsessive too, and I've learned something about how I learn: repetition. Not tolerating mistakes. Time, and more time, spent at the activity. Self-criticism. Much like I ride, enjoying the activity but also picking at what I do in order to correct faults. It makes me wish that I'd started riding and playing guitar when I was a lot younger.
Anyway, it's time to plunge back into life, the good and the bad of it. The bad won't get any better, but perhaps it will be over soon. One lives in hope.