watching the river at midnight

I'm so tired I can hardly think, but I can't sleep. So I'll start a blog.

We're staying at a hotel on the 100 block of 60th street, and I can see the river out the window. Ellie's sleeping off some chocolate martinis that she drank a little too fast.

I like these times of unexpected wakefulness-even if I'd prefer to sleep-because I don't feel like I have to make any phone calls or send any e-mails. Tonight in fact I will release myself from the obligation of mentioning my company's name, and giving a link to the Web site, on introducing myself. If you want a reason,it's that I'll be able to speak more freely if I don't name my company. And when you start and manage a company, speaking freely becomes a rare treat.

I think I've worked more than 80 hours this week. Again. Sometimes I'm happy with this. But I have recurring doubts about my career. It often seems like my work doesn't exist to meet a real need-kids will get a good enough education with traditional textbooks and homework-but rather to satisfy duelling senses of obligation: the obligation to do something to improve the world, and the obligation to make sufficient money to give my kids the lifestyle that I had growing up.

I hear Ellie stirring.