I've decided to blog. Not sure why. It is odd spilling out your guts for the world to see. It feels narcissistic. This could be a short lived experiment.
Once upon a time I liked to write. I even won awards in grade school. Somewhere along the line though, I lost that voice. Maybe it was in engineering school where English was overrated and underutilized. Math was the linqua franca - even the marching band cheered in equations. But it's more likely that the sucker punches you take along the way in life forced the air out of me. So maybe, just maybe, this blogging thing will loosen up those old vocal chords and let the air back in.
I guess if I'm going to do this, I need to introduce myself. I live on a pier. No kidding, I guess you figured that out by now. Living on a pier is beautiful, especially when Manhattan is on the other side of the River you are living on. Of course at the moment it's really loud because a party boat is going by. Sound carries with almost no decibel loss across water. It so loud that the passengers must be really drunk and really deaf.
But I promise, living on a pier isn't the most interesting thing about me. All the other blog names that I wanted were taken. :-o The name does seem to fit. The water swiftly flowing about 15 feet beneath my chair is one of the constants in my life. Sometimes I think all of my troubles seep down into the floor and then are washed away by the water beneath my home.
It's a nice thought anyway.