"i feel grace rush over me
it runs through my veins
and what i taste
is bittersweet" - Plumb
The air was cool this morning with a lower than usual humidity outside. My favorite season is autumn and it is not far away. I can't put my finger on why, but I've always loved that time of year. Today is my father's birthday and I managed to get in touch with him this morning before my meeting. The location of the customer site was nestled in the forest embraced areas on the outskirts of The Woodlands. The path toward the entry door contoured a pond (probably man made) with a large fountain in the center. The oxygen rich air and sound of water falling added to the enrichment of the cool morning atmosphere. It's a shame I was destine to sit below banks of fluorescent overhead illumination and listen to the technical woes of man when connection with nature was only a few plate glass windows away. My mother and sister are leaving after lunch and I have more work to do. Cocktails on the patio should be nice this evening with this surprise break in the heat.
"Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." - Proverbs 3:5,6
my little sister and her camera fun |
The day has gone well so far... nothing too crazy. I worked from my home office to avoid those awkward moments at work where the coworkers fumble for the appropriate thing to say. The lawn service came this morning. Since I was home, I could pay them the money I owed them for the previous several times they groomed my greenery while I was MIA. Henry doesn't like to pick up the ball as much when we fetch after a mowing. The freshly cut grass tickles his nose. My mother and sister drove in late last night for a short visit. I took them to Sweet Bella for lunch and it was packed. Ironically, one of the only tables open was the spot EL and I sat the first time we ate there together. We sat there and the food was as tasty as always. We split an order of Bella Cheesecake (EL's favorite dish they prepare) in light of it being our anniversary day. After lunch, before returning to work, we stopped at the grocery to pick up a few items for dinner. I'm going to grill since the weather is so nice out. I'm a little tired and feel like a nap. Undoubtedly it is due to dealing with stuff somewhere inside me, but on the surface I'm hanging in there... for the most part. It's nice to have family around. I have received a lot of thoughtful emails today from people that don't normally keep in touch with me. I'm thankful and appreciative to have such good people in my life... even if they are tangential friends or more distant than I'd like them to be. It is humbling.
As the day winds down, I feel like the whirlwind in my head is still steaming flank. I'm looking forward to a deep glass of red wine and the feeling of my bare toes on the various textures found following work-shoe removal. The sound of birds in my yard over the distant hum of a neighborhood lawnmower or children laughing down the street beats an abrasive phone ringer and the pitter patter of computer keys sending an over-abundance of email into cyberspace any day.
There is a life for me somewhere between this pain, that happiness, and my unknown future. I hope.
"Pain and me are old buddies. I gotta see this out..." - James Howlett a.k.a. Logan a.k.a. Wolverine
As I approach log-in to my fourth conference call of the week, I thought I might share a little humor. My boss's boss has started calling me "Wolverine" when I come into the office in the morning instead of his usual "Clay-tone", "C-Dawg", "Clay Man", "C-Meister", etc. attempts at lighthearted cross generational greeting. I don't know many people that try to make that stretch given my age and professional stature during the work day, but I usually just chuckle and let it roll off my back without comment. The "Wolverine" thing caught me off guard though... after some thought, I realize it's because I've attended some recent work related events of significance importance looking a little rough around the edges. In my own defense, I am not sure what I want to do with my hair at the moment, and I'm making do with my current doo. Also, I have very sensitive skin on my neck and face. Shaving daily hurts. Further, I like my sideburns long and money. I don't want to be the cookie cut Stepford wife at the conference table when I visit client sites. They knew the risks. They can deal with it.
Solid.
Since I am talking about names, let me share this nugget. There is a guy that works in my region named Scott. Good fella... I like him a lot. At a previous employer, he worked with a man that got so frustrated with new hires coming and going and trying to remember their names that he just started calling everyone Bobby. It stuck with Scott, so when he is around the office, everyone is Bobby. It doesn't matter who you are, what your name is, what your job position or title is... you are Bobby. That seriously cracks me up. You know what I mean, Bobby?
I have been traveling away from Houston so much that I've procrastinated going to the market. There is virtually nothing to eat that doesn't require MacGyver type ingenuity to craft into a finished product left in the cupboard. Last night, quite spontaneously, I ordered pizza. When I first discovered I was "running low", I planned to go out, but the sheer number of miles I'd been on the road of recent deterred me from putting key to ignition. Ordering pizza online was just a click away. Around 3:30 this morning, a stray tomcat decided to bring his itch to my front windowsill. It woke the dogs, which woke me and my unexpected acid indigestion. Getting old sucks. I took some OTC relief and drank some water while writing a quick email that I needed to send before heading back to bed. While so briefly at the computer, I realized I forgot to mention why the last post was entitled as such. The quoted phrase in the title is a line from a
Chevelle tune. Daddy likes Chevelle as far as Gen-Y rock goes and they played the Toyota Center in Houston this weekend while I was out of town.
/sigh I am sure that was a great show.
The Burden Brothers are allegedly fronting an act at Scout this weekend, but I haven't seen anything published to confirm that show. Those guys define Texas rock and if you've never seen them, I highly recommend you attend. Be prepared. Fronted by a rocker I have nothing but respect for, Vaden Lewis, they are a feast to be experienced in this world of airwaves so quick to play the same poppy crap over and over. Ironically, once you see them live, they are nearly ruined when received any other way. You knew the risks. Well, the chillins' are fed and I'm dragging my feet getting ready for work. I need some motivation and some serious caffeine. In light of my sister, whom I rarely see for more than a moment or two a few times a year, having consecutive days off work that envelope my forthcoming wedding anniversary, my mother and her are planning to drive up for a visit this evening. It will be nice to have someone besides me in this quiet house. I think they are more worried about me than I am worried about me at this point. I've long since thrown my hands in the air. In the air they will stay until further notice from the management.
darkness falls |
velocity and refraction
all the many facets of the same sinner lead to just one core
interfaces and adaptations
the spaces between truth and perception sustain his entropy
awareness and self-reflection
darkness, pain, pause, humility
the passage of time is the only certainty that remains
.
It felt good to be home. It didn't feel bad to be away, but the two are not on a measurable parallel. My big 'ole list of things I need to do was refreshed as I walked through my dark, quiet house last night for the first time in 4 days. I sorted the stack of bills and unnecessary junk mail from the mailbox and contemplated pouring myself a drink or making dinner. I could say I was too tired for both, but for the first time recently, that wouldn't not be accurate. I just didn't care. I've learned that I have to keep breathing despite it's apparent pointlessness. I find moments of happiness mostly in others, but ever so rarely alone. Hope. Time provides perspective that can't be obtained when so close to the wound. I have to focus just before me, never too far ahead, else I'm overwhelmed with confusion about everything and how it all fits. Events in the past and potential in the future... what could have been, what may be... it all is too much for me to handle. I never had this problem before and I suppose it's like professional driver that takes one into the wall or a gymnast that takes a bad fall with anxiety for getting back into their profession with the same drive and confidence. Fear. My anxiety is life. It doesn't so much effect me physically as it does emotionally. I have a great emptiness within me that was once brimmed and overflowing. I get lost in that space if left to my own devices. I cried myself to sleep last night with little Henry all curled up next to me... trying his best spoon. I slept well with the exception of awakening to a playtime request around 1:30. I simply whispered, "Not right now Henry. Daddy is trying to sleep." He sighed and crawled under the covers again. I think he was back asleep before me. The next stop was daylight through my window. If it were not for the low hum of my new dehumidifier trickling in from the other room, you could hear a pin drop in my house. A perfect morning would have been fresh ground coffee to sip, a tender kiss and loving touch, the caress of a cool breeze on the patio while watching the family of woodpeckers pass through for breakfast as daylight stretched across the top of the piney forest and covered the sky with nothing ahead but good things in life. My morning was a rushed shower, uncomfortable clothes, sad eyes that would rather plea for my attention than eat the breakfast poured into their bowls on the cold tile floor, and Monday morning conference calls in an unattractive and dank office where the only spot of humanity to be found is in the few small remnants of her touch. It is almost too much to bear even now. Wednesday is our anniversary.
Update. Read all about it. I finished work in the glamorous little hideaway of Monroe, LA with enough time to attempt a standby flight to Texas. I got a little frustrated at the lack of fueling stations anywhere in the remote vicinity of the airport, but managed to find what had to be "the one". Every pump row was not only full of filler-uppers, but sported eager future customers in neat little lines waiting for their turn at the nozzle. The restaurant next door to "the one" refueling facility looked local friendly and I'm always down for that, so I stopped for a bite. Alligator and crawfish gumbo was at the top of my list, but I changed my mind at the last second on a texture decision. It really sounded delicious, but I wasn't in the mood for the texture. Everyone has their quirks. Welcome to one of mine. The way something feels in your mouth is almost as important as how well it tastes. Perhaps on the rare occasion, even more important. There were tables built in wooden cradles with wheels set in tracks. You could put your feet through the bottom into the cradle like driving a Flintstone's car and push to rock yourself (and the table full of your dining companions if applicable) back and forth as you eat. I wasn't seated at one, but thought it might be fun for a future visit. I documented the construction with my cell phone's craptastic camera so my step-dad can see how it all works. I can envision him building something like that for "the ranch". Back at the airport, I hooked up a standby seat for the next flight out, but my seat confirmation couldn't take place until security cleared passengers to enter the gate. I went upstairs looking for the hot spot in the cocktail lounge. It was out of service, but using my cell carrier for dialup, I caught up on work email, did a little surfing, read some work documents that I had flagged to look at but never got around to it. I eavesdropped on the conversation between the bartender and the patrons about Katrina evacuees and depressed economy, etc. Then the other male imbiber left to take a call leaving me the only man left in the place. I must have been a fly on the wall because as soon as the other guy stepped out, the conversation took a drastic turn. They all started complaining about a raid that happened yesterday in the city's only chain of adult novelty shops. I forget the name, but it was on par with Zone d'Erotica in H-Town. The elevated banter about having to "having to buy our dildos and vibrators over the Internet" was quite amusing. One lady even went over her now-defunct shopping list that was foiled by the closures. The gentleman walked back in and not another word was said about any of it. It was back to welfare and real estate. Content that I'd observed the most entertaining part of the conversation, I gathered my things and headed for the counter. (pee ess. I was the only traveller in the lounge. The rest were locals.) Fortunately a seat was available and I found my passage to Texas aboard a rickety turboprop that spelled like a stadium men's room. My seat was broken.
The difficult part of landing in a major airport with a connection is that the geographic dispersion of your arrival gate and departing connection gate is control by Murphy. I landed in terminal A with a connection in terminal B. The only way between them is bus and the flight I was trying to get on was boarding in a few moments. I managed to get to the correct terminal and find someone to get me on a standby list. The desired flight was not only completely full, but I was to be number 10 on the list of standby travellers. TEN. The odds were strongly against me setting foot on that plane. Simmered down, that means 2 more hours of airport time in an airport I was already intimately familiar with from the weather fiasco the day before. It felt bad to feel good about another flight missing their connection and thus opening enough seats to squeeze me aboard. I am looking out the window at little fluffy clouds and wishing for my weekend to start. I want to close my eyes and exhale. I want to find a way to get the knots out of my neck and shoulders. I want to wake rested without an alarm to jolt me. I feel frazzled.
Beatnik Joe
Little, Black, and Round
Heaven, Dark Roast, Ground
You kiss my lips and
Touch my Heart in ways most profound
Whether bitter, thick like mud,
With crappy, floaty crud,
Or smooth and regal nectar,
That lingers as my master
Your end becomes my means
To not succumb to
Murderous temptation
Each morning
Ohs noes! I'm decaffeinated. I have a few hours before my flight and I'm still at the office like a busy bee. The locals I met adjacent to the consumption of alcohol last night told me the cocktail lounge upstairs at the local airport serves
LIIT's with 7 shots of liquor for 7 dollars. If my flight is delay again today, forward my mail. Apparently only 4% of the clientele at the airport bar are travelers. Locals drive to the airport to drink. That cracks me right up. I'm really looking forward to setting foot back in Texas. It's only a few hours away.
I'm off to find caffeine and possible something yummy for lunch.
I originally intended on writing last night about Plan B. How I ended up with that other drivel is beyond me, but I'll keep this short because I have to go to work. I am floored by the decision to make Plan B so readily available. Any woman over the age of 18 will be able to purchase it over the counter at your friendly neighborhood drugstore with no questions asked? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over? All arguments about abortion aside, it is not and never should be used as a form of birth control. This is a terrible thing that is happening.
That is all.
After reviewing my phone as I placed it on the charger, I feel I need to make a public service announcement.
I want to sincerely apologize for the potential event of you may or may not having received unsolicited, drunken text messages last night. Please be a glass is half full sorta person and know that if you did receive said messages, which I am neither confirming or denying, it was because I was obviously thinking of you in my moments of inebriation. I hope no one was offended by things that may or may not have been typed. I'm a special kind of drunk.
Check that out!
I don't even remember typing that crap. I don't remember going to bed. Fortunately, it was a bar across the street from my hotel and there was no driving involved. I just wish I hadn't spent so much money on drinks. "That's funny right there... I don't care who you are..." I am not hung over in the least which bothers me. I feel like I'm not really getting the return on my investment. You know, I'm being shorted on the misery I deserve for such self disrespect. Don't be concerned with the dark references. I'm positive it was nothing more than a little drunken self pity. In retrospect, things are getting better slowly. It is frustrating to have been so emotionally and mentally stable with a sense of direction and control in your life and to watch that person disintegrate before you as you gaze into the mirror. I don't deal well with being this broken. Oye!
I am going to get my self ready for work and some more (hopefully uneventful) travel. It's back to the great state of Texas this evening. I hear they have big chickens there... :) I am going to be daydreaming about sleep.
In my oh so humble opinion, the only blogging better than out-of-town hotel blogging is drunk out-of-town hotel blogging. It's difficult for me because I'm pressing all sorts of letters I shouldn’t be and I need to rely on spell checker and auto-correct to un-fuck my drunk typistry. I left Houston yesterday with plans to deliver my little man Henry and his big, black mama Éclair to my mother's home before jetting off to Louisiana. The only flaws to the plan were: a) the weather messed up my travel and 2) it wasn't a jet. I turboprop'd into Monroe around 1:20 today after literally 4 or 5 hours of delays due to thunderstorms. I worked the remainder of the afternoon, but found myself back in the same rut of sadness as on the plane. I miss my life as I knew it. Deal with it. I managed to find my way to a watering hole after work and spend way too much money on demon alcohol. I think I had something related to a hamburger quesadilla before I drank 7 double Crowns and some scotch. I think there was a beer or so in there somewhere. I'm tired and want to sleep. There are so many reasons to not continue this miserable existence, but my love and respect for her binds me to taking the high road. God bless you Erin. You saved me without even knowing it.
Meanwhile, I am drunk and lonely. I want to sleep.
Peter said to Paul, "you know, all those words we wrote…are just the rules of the game and the rules are the first to go. Now talking to God is Laurel begging Hardy for a gun. I got a girl in the war, man I wonder what it is we’ve done."
Paul said to Peter, "you gotta rock yourself a little harder. Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire."
"I got a girl in the war, Paul, the only thing I know to do is turn up the music and pray that she makes it through.
Because the keys to the kingdom got locked inside the kingdom. And the angels fly around in there but we can’t see them. I got a girl in the war, Paul, I know that they can hear me yell. If they can’t find a way to help her they can go to hell. If they can’t find a way to help her they can go to hell."
Paul said to Peter, "you gotta rock yourself a little harder. Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire."
"I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne. They sparkle, bubble over, and in the morning all you got is rain. They sparkle, bubble over, and in the morning all you got is rain. They sparkle, bubble over, and in the morning all you got is rain."
- Josh Ritter
Overall it was a relaxing evening with none of the emotional breakdown of the previous night. I spent most of the day with busy work in the office and had a meeting in the afternoon that sort of finished things up. Sam stopped by for a couple of beers and we chatted about geeky work stuff. He recently started at an IDS/IPS shop and seems to like it quite well. He ran out of beer about the time he left and I started foraging for sustenance in my barren kitchen. I really should have bought more schtuff at the grocery yesterday. I watched "
When Harry Met Sally" (again) over a bottle of wine before trying to sleep. So far, this morning has not started well. Although I know it is to be expected, I just can't find shelter from this sadness that consumes me. I keep praying that it is time that I need and I just need to be patient and wait for things to get better. I've begun to find some humor in the suggestions people offer "that will help" my recovery.
Bless their hearts. Remember the movie "
Strange Days"? It's the one where people could put on these recording devices that would record everything the brain was interpreting to the sensory systems... everything you saw, felt both physically and emotionally, tasted, and smelled... the whole gambit, but without the thoughts. If I were an evil, twisted, and terrible man, I would record some of my moments to share with all the self proclaimed therapists.
I desperately need to clean my house. My general apathy has cause clutter to build into a larger issue. It's probably not as bad as I'm painting, but I know it is much easier to keep a lived in home clean than one where you simply exist. I am still driving the Honda around this week. I need to change the oil in my truck so I've just been commuting the short distance to the office in Erin's car. What I really need to do is sell it. Time. I just need time.
Well, I'm off to a client site this morning. The decay of my wellbeing has left me with little to say. Sorry.
