Now everyone chats about this and talks about that. As business owners we all wear 73.2 different hats (I think that 74 is right around the corner)
So what else do you do? What other hobbies do you have and enjoy? Do you mix and mingle your personal talents or do you keep them hidden and secure?
I do a lot of online marketing and writing, but write personally as well. One of the reasons I started blogging many years ago is that I am interested in many fields and like to combine my artistic skills whenever possible (writing, photography, graphics, etc)
One of my "other" sites is a poetry blog that I have on and off promoted over the years. I have also maintained graphic blogs and stores selling my graphic design work.
I find the act of writing out questions I have asked my friends to be very illuminating as an experience, often presenting me with personal and professional questions that I would not have encountered myself.
Here is one I wrote today.
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Wounds of War, a declaration of being unfit.
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(This was written for a friend, who shall remain nameless.)
In a private conversation, I declared that I was unfit for duty.
I told my friend that I could no longer wear a badge of honor.
Somehow, I found that the shadow of bravery crept over my soul,
and fell upon the silent ears of those who were defined valiant, or criminal.
I was not a hero. I was not even someone who cast forth a reflection worth seeing.
The way I found myself, was a haunting memory of distant declarations,
words that could never be understood by someone as simple as myself.
Yet the wound I felt, brutalized my soul more than any harm could.
I saw myself as having fallen, upon the fine, sharp sword of victory.
My chest was covered with fine treasures of respectful ignorance,
yet my hands and body were as unclean as I have ever felt.
I do not know how to cleanse my life of such indiscriminate stains.
I return home, to a family who loves, friends who adore, and none of them understand.
I am not the person they love, no, I am the person they fear in distant nights.
The hand of god holding the life of innocence, of illicit personal ending.
My choice, to disbelieve, that my hands act with ignorant cruelty.
I sit with those I love and wonder, how many brethren no longer sit at a table I emptied?
That as I, a human soul, cared for disregard so deeply that I acted,
again and again, I acted. To take away that which was not mine.
I was the fool played as both pawn and king, to which I gave away control.
I am asking for redemption, begging for a sweet mercy I never gave,
trying to forget the moments of unsettled fear as I closed my eyes,
and forced myself to hear screams that will never go away.
Simply, I am not fit for duty.
http://www.trueloveofcoffee.com
So what else do you do?