Statistics in Whatever Will Be Will Be

For a lark, I decided to see how many entries I’ve actually published this year. The counter says this will be my 53rd entry for the year. This is the 65th day of the year. So I got to thinking. I am a prolific writer. If you review my entry counts from many previous years, many years have me averaging around one and one third entries per day. So, I thought to look into the numbers on those years where I didn’t write as much.

2014: 152 entries. This was the first year I was writing in Prosebox and had multiple open books, so this number should be higher anyway. BUT this was also the year I graduated from Law School, studied for the bar examination, and began trying to find work. So… a busy year!
2017: 372 entries. This is the smallest number of entries that still results in more than 1 entry per day. 2017 was another year where I was passionately seeking out a new position, transitioning to that new position, and struggling in that new position.

But compare that to the year where I had my MOST entries.
2016: 503 entries. That was the year I got hired in Tiny Town. Moved and lived on my own for a while in a house without internet and struggled MIGHTILY with “First time living in a house as an adult” and “first time living in a house as an adult w/my partner” and “first time being back in Iowa with my partner” and “learning how to be a prosecutor without assistance” and “learning how to be a prosecutor while fighting the board who isn’t sure that they need to hire a replacement for my boss” not to mention all of the National Political bullshit that was going on that year.

All interesting in a “who cares” kind of way. If I ever actually DO have time to earnestly and honestly spend intentional time working on legitimate writing… I also have 33 items in Drafts, some dating all the way back to 2016.

My night last night was.... well… I got home and the deck was mostly gone and a large Dumpster completely blocked my driveway. The demo crew apologized by e-mail as they thought that they would be able to get the whole deck down in one day, but it rained. Which means they didn’t place the dumpster in a “drive friendly” place because they thought they wouldn’t need it overnight. And had to set a bunch of things in front of exterior doors to make sure me and the dog didn’t try to use the backyard with a deck not secured just hanging off of the house. So, I took Nala to the Dog Park. But it got rainy and cold, so we were only there for 30 minutes. Hermia’s friends had left stuff at my place after cooking breakfast on Sunday, and I told Hermia it would be helpful to me if I could bring it over to her. She wanted it, she has more use for it, and I don’t need perishable items hanging out in my fridge. I stopped by and… near perfect timing. As I walk in, you can hear Brad screaming and crying in his room. He was supposed to practice his cello and when his mom wouldn’t accept “looking at the music book and taking his cello out without playing it” as practice, he started spiraling. So, he was sent to his room to practice his actual cello and he was just… up there having a tantrum instead. She asked if I would go help him as a person that played cello. She never played a string instrument and her limitations, it makes sense that she would want me to help. And I know she went over the important stuff with him; but he tends to respond better to my “I am calm. When I am curt that means trouble. I will respond to your escalating volume by hardening my tone, not shouting back.” As opposed to his mom’s “You’re upsetting. When I’m shouting that means you’re not listening. I will respond to your escalating volume by my own escalating volume and heightened emotional stakes.”
So, I went to talk to him. And of course, yeah… he isn’t paying attention to anyone or anything. He’s actively not using his mind expecting this to be just a physical thing. And he’s upset that he will get a grade regarding cello instead of credit for participation. In other words… he is just now realizing he needs to try, he doesn’t like trying, and he’s upset that not trying will have consequences. He’s been taking cello lessons all year. He’s been in a school choir all year. We spent ten minutes working on rhythm. “Why are you only counting to four?” Because this song says 4/4. So each of these notes counts for a whole beat. And these notes count as two notes per beat. So you can approach the bar as 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and. So these two notes here are 1 and 2 and, then you change notes and this note is 3 and, this note is 4 and. “What are those notes?” That’s a D on the A string, four fingers. “Like this?” as he puts three fingers down on the D string in the center of the neck. And after every moment he puts bow to string, he then has to screw around for 2 minutes. He played D four times, when he was supposed to play it twice. I told him to read the music and see that these notes are different… they aren’t the same… that’s why they are on different parts of the staff. And he decided to play with a stuffie on the floor with his bow instead. Which again makes me think: Everything screwing this boy up is either Behavioral- he’s not paying attention, he’s not applying himself or Behavioral- he has unmedicated ADHD and untreated ODD.
But after that, I went to the store where I ran into a Judge! “Judge shopping” jokes flew through my mind.
Then back home. Where Nala was VERY unhappy that she was not permitted to check out her backyard. We’ll see if we’re allowed to use it tonight. I’m curious to say the least.

Today at work has been really busy. REALLY busy. Pulled in a dozen different directions because people were being sent down by the magistrate. The young, female magistrate that is frequently upsetting the other judges because she doesn’t know HOW to do things and thinks winging it is appropriate. Thus sending me every person that was confused why they were there. Seriously, had a person come down. “The judge sent me.” Okay, why? “I don’t know. I don’t know why this ticket?” Why this ticket what?! “She sent me down to talk to you.” FINE, I’ll look into it. She sent you down because you showed her an ID… were you the person to whom this ticket was issued? “No. That was my sister.” Does SHE have an ID? “No, she’s still trying to get her driver’s license.” Which is WHY she was given a No Driver’s License Ticket. “Oh. Why did the judge send us down?” Because she was just as confused as you are!
Because of course while all of that is going on… I’m preparing almost 100 different hearings. Because that’s my afternoon. Over 100 different hearings.

Always busy!

Last updated March 05, 2024