Doing work on a Sunday is a exercise I haven’t done in quite some time. And while I chose to leave my Sunday’s reserved for lounging back, it did feel decent to get some stuff done. I don’t think I’ve ever been this inundated with work in my entire corporate existence. Returning home at night around eight has become the norm for the last two weeks and working on Sunday to keep myself from getting buried on Monday makes the weekends float by in seemingly blink of an eye. Doing work with a glass of wine next to you computer has a certain therapeutic nature to it. And while too much would undoubtedly lead to sloppy work, just the right amount makes things much less tedious.

Despite its short nature, the weekend was spent productively for me at least in terms of checking my inflated memories and related ego boost. I was cleaning out some stuff from my foot locker and came upon some old tapes, where I was basically acting like a rude bastard. Funny to remember to not really remember how crass I often was back then, it is one thing that I have really mellowed out.

I also read a few entries from my old journals and I’m really starting to get some perspective on myself. The two most glaring things being that in the past I often compared the present to the past not realizing the beauty of things until after gaining perspective. The other being that I was always in search of that perfect significant other. Its that history and experience that has led me to where I am now and what I’m truly starting to realize is that it takes of a lot of life lessons to land in a relationship as wonderful as mine is now. Everything is an adventure.

My good friend Steve asked me to be in his wedding party this weekend, which was a bit unexpected, but an honor to hear and except. I can only hope to do half the job he did for me. Almost Simpsons time and then the week begins again. But for once, I feel I have a decent perspective going in.

The war in Iraq is got ugly today and I’m still staying away from the MB.

Brought up my old bass from home a few weeks back and have taken it out the last two nights. I've been looking at some bass tab, which I hear is known as the lazy mans way of learning to play anything, but it been fun. I actually came down here to write tonight and then hit the bed before 11. Well...I've been learinng to play First Tube and parts of Jibboo. Yes, real easy bass lines, but its been fun...and time has slipped away. It just felt good. Perhaps I'm better trying that than the old bongos. At least I have some familiarity with the bass.

Forty-hours give or take presidential discretion, until we drop the first bomb over Iraq. It’s a sinking feeling to know that conflict is soon to become engagement somewhere in the world. I’ve felt for some time that Saddam must be removed from power, but I am unsure of the trigger-happy, gung-ho, fuck the rest of the world way President Bush has gone about it. I suppose further diplomacy would only prolong the inevitable. None-the-less, to hear that ultimatum issued, one we all now Saddam will pay no mind to, sent a chill right through me. I can’t help but wonder how vulnerable we will be to terrorist attacks on the home front. I suppose at times like these you can only put faith in your leaders and trust they are truly working in the best interest of the people they work for. Me, I can only turn to my loved ones. But if war is inevitable, as it seems it is, we can only hope we are in and done quickly. I don’t think this country is in any condition for a long battle. I know I’m not. And I’m sure our soldiers aren’t either. Makes me wonder if he gave St Patrick’s Day as a deadline figuring a quarter of the country would be drunk and would take the news a bit easier. Speaking of, it was the first St. Pat’s day in sometime that I didn’t do much to hold up my Irish heritage. Of course, it was because of work, which is a situation unto itself. I’d imagine the moral is lower than that of an LA Clippers fan.

There are a lot of unsettling things happening in the world right now, that anxiousness must be contributing to my negativity lately. I realize the cynical mind-frame is what I have always filtered my views through, but I wonder if it has always been so prominent. Every thought I verbalize lately seems to have some sort of negative drip to it. It's pissing me off, but more importantly, I believe it is getting to others around me. This paranoia that I am indeed encroaching on others steadfast happiness led me to taking an indefinite break from the message board; I simply could not post anything not negative. And when I did, I believe it was always taken as sarcasm.

The mere notion that something like a message board could be so dear to me is almost ridiculous in its own right. Taken in a two-dimensional realm, it is nothing more than a bunch of people with whom I share a common theme who occasionally get together to party like we’re still college kids. But in the three-dimensional world we feel in, it obviously goes much deeper.

These people are a group who had a direct hand in giving me the confidence to make a life choice that has ended me in the place I am right now. I remember a party not to far after the general crux of the MB had met for the first time. It was a love fest, that, in spite of being ecstasy infused, still had deeper meaning, I did something I had never done before, and to date, have never done again, I opened up my journal to people I really just met. Bones wrote something in that night that has always stuck with me about the peeps in writing “he will never again walk alone.” It’s a simple statement that is as true as the come. Look at him now, he has moved completely across the country into the arms of an amazing group of people all connected by this message board. His isn’t the only story, there are so many to tell. The story itself is such an amazing one, but for some reason, I have become completely jaded with it.

To continue on my subconscious need to spit clichés, perhaps familiarity really does breed contempt? Perhaps or perhaps I merely have got it in my mind that I have outgrown things and the people, but I know that is nothing more than a very arrogant take on things. I think somewhere underneath everything I’m feeling, there is some inherent jealousy of what the folks out West have. I miss that closeness with people. I’ve witnessed a steady stream of people who have become my close friends move out of the city and on to better things in my life. I don’t have the core group of people within driving distance like I once did, and certainly nothing like that which Bones has moved out to. Or maybe it is simply that I can’t adapt to change so much.

Change was high on my agenda when Phish struck that final note before the hiatus, and I certainly checked it off several times over. Change has also been the one thing in my life that I have never truly been comfortable with, preferring instead, the romantic’s view of events past. But I vowed to work on it and I’m truly wondering if I don’t have the threshold for it any longer, as if buying a house and getting married were all I could take in a year’s time. Now, with Phish not the band I remember and the peeps not seeing or hearing the same things I am, I’m trying to change them to coincide with my beliefs, a notion as selfish as it gets. Seems almost childlike, but it is thinking like this that has led me to take some time away from the board.

I need step-back and reflect. I need to remember why these people were and this board was so important to me. What I need to do is make more of an effort instead of barricading myself in my basement lamenting the old days. I need to be happier with work to and to do that; I need to find a way to start seeing things from a more positive perspective. My morose negativity has truly led me to believe that people flat-out don’t want to be around me. Its like I’m not the cool kid in school, which undoubtedly plays to some deeper issues I have about needing to be the Yurtle the Turtle of the pond. It also probably plays to my career aspirations and desire to be a writer. In short, I just feel that life is moving to fast; I need to find a way to catch-up before I’m left too far behind.

Somewhere there is a good analogy for the constant ebb and flow that is my work experience. I suppose the pendulum theory applies loosely, loosely in that the highest of highs here does not come close to comparing to that of my outside life.

I can't decide if I am extremely tired or just too doped-up on over-the-counter decongestants. I'm inclined to default to the latter simply because there is a deal of paranoia playing through my head as well now. About the only thing I can definitively hold as truth is that this place remains unhealthy to my psyche. It is all my brain can think of (just read below); how to figure a way out of this situation into an ideal life. But I never know what path to follow and I have a real motivation issue when it comes to actually continuing down any particular path. Instead, I typically take a few steps and then jump to another path I think might lead to something better. I am a constant purveyor of the grass always being greener on the other side; the ultimate parody of myself, consistently dreaming and lambasting myself for not chasing them.

And then there is my work, and by work, I mean the actual physical nature of being present in this seat and collecting a paycheck. I've done squat lately, just enough to get by and continue to take the same approach. I also continue to berate myself for not doing anything. Perhaps, I'm the ultimate cliché?

And Monday marches on...

I just scoffed down a blueberry-glazed donuts one of my co-workers was "kind" enough to bring in. I have kind in quotes because I can't help but wonder about the shear amount of fat I just stuffed into my gut. And as a curious mind will do, I've found it to be somewhere between 12-15 grams of pure fat which form what the health freaks tell me, is a hell of a lot of fat. None-the-less, I feel I have to be more health conscious as I'm getting older, but I do miss those days as a kid of being able to pile in two or three donuts in a morning. Especially those vanilla cream -filled puppies from Dunkin Donuts...those were pure sugar bliss as a kid.

And speaking of being a kid, this work stuff remains for the greedy. I've been looking for change, but there aren't any jobs out there. What's worse, is that I've become extremely busy at work and my writing has taken a back seat over the last 10 or so days. I just hope I'm not regressing back to the suburban norm. In nay event, I'm looking forward to getting through today and landing myself up in the White Mountains for the first time this year. Pearl Jam tickets are on-sale in a few short minutes.

I may have inadvertently offend a woman this morning. She was gathering her belongs just as we were pulling into South Station when here scarf fell onto my seat. Not noticing it, I alerted her with a "Pardon me, Mamm, I belive you dropped this." She thanked me of course, but being a woman no older than 40, she seemed a bit taken back by my calling her Mamm. Really, I was just trying to be polite, but not being able to claim a Southern heritage, I think she might have been offended. I didn't meant it of course.

Too little time at night continues to be my main issue. That, and no focus. Wasted a whole day a work today which led to me scrambling at the end to justify my day. I accomplished that, but nothing in the way of my writing, which I may add, I've been slacking on since last week. I guess its a bit of resting on my laurels, but I had been cranking stuff out. I need to get back to that pace fast.

And they continue to just get worse. I'm starting to wonder just how much of a head-case I am, in other words, shouldn't I just be thankful I have gainful employment? Stating that the economy is horrible is to state the obvious, especially in the field of PR and Marketing. For a barometer, we need look no further than the amount of job opening in my field. When I was looking for a job change toward the end of 2000, there were upwards of a dozen to two dozen new listings each day. Today, I'm lucky to see a dozen new openings in a week...and that is a good week.

Taking into account the number of unemployed, yet highly qualified folks in my experience range, it's no wonder the callbacks have been none existent. Yet, I lament my fate here feeling equally frustrated and guilty. Monday's seem to always extenuate these feelings, feelings that generally tend to subside as the week progresses.

I'm feeling particularly restless today, certain only I don't want to do work, but not sure what project of self-improvement I should tackle next. Instead, I sit stirring, back aching, waiting to call it quits.

Sunday has managed to stare me down once again as I'm minutes from closing my eyes on the weekend. The weirdness that permeated my post from the wee hours of Saturday morning seemed to carry through to now. I'm still not sure what it entails. I do know I didn't accomplish the writing I had hoped to this weekend as the metaphor piece on Phish is still in the works. Although, I did manage to get some thoughts down, they seemed rushed. The reason being was that we needed to head to RI to visit with my folks and my grandfather, who was fresh off of knee surgery. He looked good, albeit a bit groggy. Had dinner at my parents and ended-up back home a few minutes after The Simpson’s began.

The season premiere of HBO's "Six Feet Under" tonight left me feeling a bit spooked as that show tends to do. It dealt with life and the choices we make that not only have ended us in our present position, but those we didn't that could lead us to completely different realities. Its a heady topic for this late on Sunday, but it does get the wheels turning. Tracy had a strong reaction to it and mentioned how she felt her life would have been completely different as would have mine if I had decided to turn around in that snowstorm on my way to interviewing at Faulkner. I'd never really given it too much thought, but that single decision to plow through that storm, even after I'd skidded-off
I-95, was a huge catalyst to what my life is now.

Weird thoughts have been going through my mind since Wednesday’s show and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to digest and interpret my feelings with regard to the Phish. They took a part of my psyche from me in Hampton and while, Worcester showed a ton of improvement, I'm still left feeling odd. After all, it wasn’t a poor show; it had some gems. However, it also had some low moments, enough to convince me not to make the effort to head to Nassau. And then they play Destiny and rise my faith in them. Phishiness at its original core. It has actually left me feeling a bit better. Still distant, but better none-the-less.