Hello! Somewhere in the last few years I laundered the garb of a wandering web-based beggar and now I can be seen in a pair of black shiny freelancer's shoes (I bought 'em used). Back then I was honored to write and have a place to share it; the web motivated me to "over-share" in the parlance of my generation. I pumped stories through my fingers daily and occasionally when asked about my plans I said, I hope to get paid for this.

Hah! I get paid for the side-effects of an internet expression addition. Curiosity about tools and machines and a penchant for watching people has me paid to observe and note the habits of highly gadgetized human communicators.

Recent death is threatening to upend my sense of value in life and work. My ancestors may be responsible for my overdrive optimism and a tendency to aggressive production. Most members of my family have found graduate education, companies and stricter professions to drive their potential. I've somehow tried to train myself outside of that structure.

I asked Jane tonight, what are your dreams? My partner at my side begs a constant question; what do we make? It nags at me - I can't imagine how we live if I don't see what we make. When I'm quieter I remember that she washed my feet after a long day at Bass Lake, and I remember that my restlessness likely comes from a day away from my productivity pacifier. I may not achieve much in the course of most days, but stroking the keys and filling the wires gives me a sense of continuity.

But I call it a pacifier because there are bigger questions to consider; questions I have been trying to explore offscreen, when my mind is my own. Death makes a life vacuum and amplifies passing moments. How nice it would have been for Jane's mother to meet her grandchild. How nice it would be for my mother to spend some time with her own.

The largest creations seem to be children; but I don't feel prepared yet for parenthood. Should I train my mind to that task, if I see it up ahead? Should I plunge and let beautiful life, family and friends surprise me? Any child of mine would have a wonderful assortment of aunts and uncles, miscreants and miracle-workers. Imagining childmaking is less hard with pregnant popping friends nearby, but this enormity of supporting other life razes all the smaller plans of work and bill paying. Until I manage courage or stability, the search for a surrogate totalizing project continues.