I'm having one of those weird days, where I'm finding it hard to find myself. I know why that is...I'm writing a column for the head of our cancer center, to be put into the next issue of our cancer center magazine. And I'm writing it as a letter...i.e., in his voice. So, basically, I'm currently channeling a 50-something-year-old, tall, South African cancer researcher. No wonder it's hard to be 39-year-old, short, transplanted New Yawker me right now!

When I do this sort of writing--at various times, I've had to write speeches and letters 'as' the dean of the medical school, or 'as' a renowned ophthalmologist, or even 'as' the president of the university--I really do try not to sound quite so much like me. Me loves alliteration and colorful words, and me eschews jargon. But the head of a cancer center? Not so much on the alliteration, and definitely way big on the jargon. Still, I wonder if he's going to read it and get all annoyed because I've used some phrase or logic that is counter to everything he believes in. (Paranoid, much?) It's my first time writing for/as him, so I'd like it to be well-received.

Monday starts my new schedule, with very early arrival times at the office, but three days a week when I'm out of here either just before or just after lunch. We'll see how it works. Lately I've been wanting to stay up late at night, but that's just not going to fly when I have to start leaving the house at 7 or so in order to drive to work, get N settled in at daycare, and trek on over to my office. There used to be a direct line from my parking lot to the building I work in, but now they're building yet another hospital building in between the two, cutting me off. So the walk is now a healthy one...and I enjoy it. But it requires an extra ten minutes or so, which I need to consider when I plan out my morning...and when I choose my shoes.

See what I mean about not being me? I'm talking about shoes. What's that about?