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Sunflowers make such pretty weeds. This one snuck through my weeding process and bloomed this morning. I have a little yard work to do this afternoon when it cools off, but I think I’m going to leave it a couple of days since it’s so pretty. Work is busy today and I have a presentation to finish for tomorrow. My boss is going on sabaticle for 3 weeks starting Monday and has left me to cover his post, so this is my last week of normality for a while when it comes to work. More later…

As I type the first few letters of this post, the clock ticks 3:06 a.m. and all the hopes I’d had of this being an early night for me drift away between me and the TV… muffled amidst the HD video channel striving to be the MTV of 1981 where music reined, commercials were few, and no one knew what the fuck Reality Television was (nor the negative impact it would have on life as we would come to know it). My mind drifts. Imagine stepping across the surface of a liquid just fast enough to know that if you were to slow, you would sink. That is the state of my consciousness now-a-days. Stop to reflect and get caught in the web of it all. I don’t represent my opinions as a statement of position anymore as much I just as reflect upon observation on others. It’s like my own flavor of Reality TV. If you put all your time in watching shit around you, you don’t actually have to take ownership in living your own life. Just go through the motions. It works. Ironically, there are a series of complicated observations in my personal and professional lives recently that I want to loquate here but haven’t the strength to make it through the paragraphs required truly convey my thoughts. Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. Perhaps some random dictation would be a start? My best friend, Sean, seems more distant than ever and although I know this is not intentional, it makes the geographic distance between us more real than it needs to be. I’ve fulfilled a new role at work and now am having to move into a new arm of the organization that presents itself as a double edged sword. It brings new opportunity, new potential, yet possible political implications resulting in drama… all tiring.  EL’s close friends and family seem to have found a way to move forward (perhaps on) and I can’t seem to stop the bleeding. I have a network of men in my life, accumulated over fortunate experience and time, that make up the closest thing I could hope for to brotherhood. Their recent inaccessibility to me makes me question the possibility of my becoming a burden in their lives somehow by not being the man they knew before June of last year… as if I’ve become someone to groom out of their Rolodex. I have many friends that I really want to give my time to… that I want to share myself with, but I just can’t. That social butterfly found his way back to the cocoon. My life is becoming quite discontiguous. I don’t know which way is up.

Another night to bed past four. I dug up some photos I took of my cousins and developed the images. I went downstairs to get a drink, sat on the couch as a movie was coming on whatever channel was on the television, and stayed for the whole thing. I don’t know what’s up with me. I hope tonight will be different.

“my heart is drenched in wine…
but you’ll be on my mind…
...forever”

Holy shit.

I have been up past four aye emm the last 4 nights in a row or so… not in-the-least-bit (that’s one word) tired. My mind isn’t necessarily churning anything useful during that time. I just simply can not seem to wind down without pharmaceutical assistance. I’m not diametrically opposed to such ingestion. I hate that it has become a prerequisite. I’ve tried to maintain a level of sociability with geographically convenient friends rather than succumb to hermitism (is that a word?). I dig the thought of not seeing or talking to anyone, but it is so completely against the grain of my personality to be isolated. I’ve been in a lot of pain. Other than being inexplicably emotional recently (always well concealed), I’ve not been able to shake this aching muscle cramping in my back and shoulders despite an ass kicking deep tissue massage at a reputable five-star salon in town administered by a arguably militant, large, black woman. At times, I thought I might cry. It’s rapidly approaching two and I’m wide awake. Not only must I work early, I have a conference call right off. The plan is to avoid speaking. My brain already hurts at the envisioning of dragging my ass out of bed in the morning. Henry suffers the most. He struggles to stay conscious and ride out daddy’s insomnia by his side with his fluttery little heavy eyelids. My plan to spend a significant amount of time in the yard this weekend was foiled by frequent rain showers. I managed a little here and there, but mostly I avoided the elements opting for A/C and icy libations. Just when you think there may actually be light at the end of the tunnel, you get a lung full of soot and dirt in your eye. 

I spent more time than usual downtown this week. I can’t recall how I managed to do that commute for so long. It seems further each time I drive… like there is some sort of geographic expansion going on between trips. My time there was relatively productive, so I don’t mind the to and fro. Every day seems fuzzy to me outside of the temporal instant that is happening right now (in any given now). If you were on the open ocean, where the horizon fades into the curvature of Earth, and there was no reference of land or star… you were just there… you would find me. Finding empty purpose to spend the currency of time for the sake of having something to do besides eat, sleep, and defecate for the duration of your finite number of breaths on this planet seems so counterproductive… almost indistinguishable from doing nothing at all. You would never miss the taste of a succulent dish if you have only known stale bread. I had direction and goals. I knew the deepest love and was building a life as part of something bigger than myself. I had passion in life and was stronger because of it. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Waiting to die sounds so morbid and is, finally, inaccurate since I am apathetic toward either outcome. I had some lists drawn up in the ‘ole noggin for this year. Step 1, I suppose, was the create of the list itself. I’ve not gone much further. I acquired my Class II pilot’s medical certificate, but never filed for VA benefits to continue training. I started guitar lessons again, but found work was conflicting more often than not to continue. I started going back to the gym and was making terrific progress and then fell off the wagon subsequent to a few back to back out of town trips that sabotaged my schedule and diet. I cleaned up my SPAM problem and re-energize my blog publishing system only to rarely post. I have a stack of unopened Christmas cards from last Christmas on the dining room table I bought fro EL to keep the piles of unsent mail company. If it were not for my hatred of being late for anything, I would probably not pay my bills on time. Life is different… and barely life at all.

I spent a few minutes starting to pull the St. Augustine choking my loriapi from its midst, but realized it was going to take more time I had to invest at the moment, so I’m hoping to find dry enough weather to finish this weekend. I need to re-pot my plumeria this weekend as well. I am struggling with life, the universe, and everything at the moment… but maybe I’ll show my face around here more often soon.

ps. the little critter mugshot was just a camera whore perched upon a twig on my patio… it seemed an injustice to not go grab the camera for a snapshot

pps. happy birthday mom… I love you. I tried to call several times, but you retired folks must be out on some sort of adventure. 

I am never eating bacon again. From now on, the artist formerly known as bacon will simply be known as “pork candy”.

I have discovered that when one is in the IT industry, unless you can completely disassociate yourself from your job (and I’ve not met someone yet that can), you tend to collect (often unwillingly) techno-stuff. I have entirely too many computers in my home. Most of them are fully functional… perhaps limping on three legs, but functional. Since I built a new system, I’ve been going through what I always go through when I make an iteration in technology in the space known as “the home computer"… migration. I resist it with every breath. There are sentiments and lost little forgotten thingamadoos on the old system. There are random thoughts, my wife’s stuff, disorganized everything that represents a collective of me over the last since my previous upgrade. Inevitably, some things will move to the new system and some will end up on CD’s or DVD’s as archived data… and regrettably, some will fall through the cracks and remain on the existing drive to be rotated into the dust collection of old hardware I have laying around my completely untidy office. I really dislike the entire process.

So one might ask where the fuck I have been… might. I have been, more or less, here… hurting, reflecting, remembering, and struggling with this quilt of life swatches I have left before me. I drove to my mother’s the weekend before last. The anniversary of EL’s death was not as difficult as her birthday, but I didn’t need to be sitting home alone for either. My dear friend Rob twisted my arm into going to a quite interesting mullet-fest taking place at Concrete Street in Corpus Christi. Yes, I witnessed a Ted Nugent concert. Gasp! He was dressed head to toe in some form of denim or camouflage and referred to himself as “Uncle Ted” the entire show. All the songs had sexual undertones and he had the stage decorated with machine guns. He constantly talked about hunting, killing, and guns and referred to himself as a snakeskin wearin’ shit-kickin’ redneck cowboy. Ooookay. I was ok taking in the humor of it all since I figured a large percentage of the attendees were just there to hear Stranglehold and bail. Then the show took a terrible turn for the worse. He sang some tribute song to the old geezer that taught him how to bow hunt (an activity for which he embraces activism) and during the song, he played video footage on the big projection screens of forest animals being slaughtered by arrows from his weapon. I’m no PETA freak that chains is body to a cage and pours “blood” everywhere preaching animal rights, but I can not stand to see animals in pain. I share a lot of the underlying ideals of the extremists, just in a more sensible fashion. I could have left then and there, but I was a guest and didn’t want to be a party pooper (and I didn’t have a ride… I hear the ability to hail a taxi in Corpus Christi is an urban legend). It was good to see my friends and family. I wanted to see Beth while I was at the coast, but she was sick with ebola or SARS or something. Poor thing. The week ahead was slated to be busy with travel, so I left the pups with grandma and headed home Sunday morning. I flew to San Antonio during the week and to Virginia Thursday night. I spent the weekend visiting old friends from when I lived in Virginia Beach. I went to an open air concert at the Naval station on Friday night. The main act was not someone I was familiar with (Travis Tritt), but it was fun to people watch. Apparently, he is a well known country singer, but I didn’t know any of his music. He did cover a Bon Jovi tune from the 80’s… heh. I attended the 12 year birthday celebration of my exgirlfriend’s daughter (whom I’d not seen since she was 2 and a half) on Saturday in Norfolk. I didn’t get to stop by my old house in Virginia Beach, but I did manage to make it to Colley Street in Ghent and eat at The Baker’s Crust. The menu is completely different. Bienville Grille is closed down. Sad Panda. It was a nice weekend to just get away and not think about RealLife™ for a while. I flew back Sunday morning to receive my mom and stepdad with the pups shortly thereafter. Norah Jones was one of EL’s favorites. I remember catching her beautiful voice, which she normally keep well hidden, peeking through when she would sing along with Norah’s CD’s in the house. I purchased orchestra seats to the Norah Jones concert playing at Jones Hall (no relation… heh) on the night of EL’s birthday. She would have so loved to go, but given the circumstance, I took my mother instead. The show was great, Norah was great, her opening act (M. Ward) was great… the evening was something EL would have been so pleased with… instead, I just cried. My flea problem in the yard at the house is better. While mom and Bob were in town, we re-treated the yard and sprayed in the house. I called a professional pest control service and they said this season is really bad. In fact, they said almost all their calls are for flea outbreaks. I can only assume it is squirrels bringing them in, but I’d never do anything to hurt the squirrels, so I just need to deal with the little buggers as they come.

This week has been work and regularity. Nothing special. Just work. Okay, this next bit is a little geeky, so skip it if you so choose. I attended the Magtheridon raid on Monday night as my guild prepares for Serpentshrine Cavern and Tempest Keep Eye attunement trying to get into The Black Temple. Skullcrusher is my realm by the way. Magtheridon is a very calculated battle. It takes about 5 tanks and 7 healers in a 25 man raid to execute a strat precisely over about 20 minutes or so with no mistakes to complete successfully. Every single person has to be on their “A Game”. Mid-fight, one of the raid tanks DC’s, but he is in Vent with us and doesn’t lose that link. Then, he logs back in, drops raid, and hearths out. WTF? He was being hacked. He immediately logged into Blizzard’s site and changed his password. In the 8 minutes it took to do that and log back in the thief had emptied every bank and all bags on his main and all his alts… every epic gone… all gold gone… everything… gone. Apparently there has been a rash of trojan keyloggers embedded in UI add-ons that people get from public sources and his password was captured and sent to the bad guys. Ok, geek story is over.

I was approached about shooting a wedding in a couple weeks. Wedding photography is one of the most stressful ways to use a camera I can think of, but I’d be willing to do it to help someone out. The bride sounded stressed. Urs and Sandra’s wedding was the only one I’ve ever done, so I’m really not experienced at it at all. On the subject of photography, one of my landscape shots was licensed last month for a web site and another wildlife shot was licensed for a tourist magazine in Canada. I haven’t been able to regain any passion for photography… or life in general for that matter… since EL’s accident. I just don’t seem to care the way I used to about much of anything. It sucks. My father is trying to set up a web site for the B&B he and his girlfriend run. I offered to assist since they are completely ignorant of all things Internet. I’m no web ninja, but I can at least help them set up a basic site. They want to put up representative, yet beautiful photos of the land and indigenous animals along with the location and business info, so I’ll probably try and do some sort of shoot for that, but I just can’t seem to get my heart into it. That’s why you’ve not seen anything from me in soon long with regards to landscape, wildlife, etc. Basically, I’m just… meh.

I am in disrepair (again). My recent travels have hosed up my workout schedule and I’ve allowed them to equally disrupt my healthy diet. Laziness. My back is in knots and I can’t seem to sleep well. I scheduled a deep tissue massage and pedi for tomorrow morning. I hope that helps. I have to head to a meeting downtown, so it’s time to brave the afternoon traffic. I often think of things I’d like to post, but they all slip away (along with my motivation) by the time I get to a browser. I think I would be lying if I said the last couple of weeks were exceptionally hard. A more realistic statement would be the last couple of weeks were equally hard. I try to lean on my friends to help keep my mind occupied, but at the end of the day, the hurt is just as strong. I’ll try to write more this weekend. I really have no excuse.

How has it only been a year? I feel like it has been forever. It hurts too much to talk about… even still.

I really have nothing to say these days. My week was plagued with insomnia… the worst I’ve had in years. Thursday night, I didn’t go to sleep until 4:30 Friday morning. It wasn’t from gallivanting around like a partying rock star either… it was just plain ‘ole boring can’t become sleepy syndrome. I would have taken a pill, but I didn’t have enough time between ingestion and work to regain normality, so it would have been counterproductive in the grand scheme of things. As the day nears, I find myself avoiding thinking about it all as best I can. I have a lot on my plate this coming week to keep me busy and perhaps I’ll have a moment with a modicum of conscious clarity to write something worth reading in this little spot. Sadly, it’s been so long that has happened, I may not recognize it. I’m off to see my grandmother. Have a nice weekend.