New FAVE song not on itunes.

http://www.spin.com/reviews/new-cold-war-kids-mp3-something-not-right-me

Earthquake!

My first big one. I thought it might be the after-effects of long trm narcotics usage but it actually happened.

Back to expenses. Sigh.

And now...

The fire is out.

It's hot.

I want to drift around my apartment while "Goldfarb's Record" from the Klute soundtrack plays on a loop. You know what I mean.

Tonight.

A fire finally burns on the horizon.

What the hell am I doing?

I'm in that discombobulated state - again - where I have literally no idea where to begin with all the crap I have to do. Meanwhile, I age.

Work. Or, Work!

Driving in my car (take me out, tonight) I was struck by some thoughts as I was passing that giant ugly Universal Amphitheater sign.

In order for us to do Good Jobs, we have to approach everything we do from 9 to 5, or 8 to 7, as if it is just as meaningful as the things we do for ourselves on our own time. At least for me, I think it will be the only way to get things done well. I suppose this is what it means when people talk about "owning" things or "getting their arms around" other things. The latter string of words falls squarely into a category that I have ranted on here about before. That phrase though is quite interesting because it calls to mind the concept of incoporation, actually putting an idea or task right next to or even inside your body, with perhaps even some sort of Capitalist undertones. Instead of hugging a person that we love to our collective breast, we are supposed to hug tight a concept, or a task, or series of tasks.

So, in other words, I'm supposed to press a meaningless task to mySelf and then I'm a good person/worker. Isn't that counter to every psychological professional's insistence that we must maintain strong boundaries? Am I wrong people?

Well, shame is a motivator.

It's been four months since I've written anything here. So sorry.

A lot has been happening.

I seem to be in the middle of a mid-life crisis, which is not terrible, but seems to be visting earlier than it visits most. Since we only have our 3 score and 10 according to the Bible, and my birthday just past, I am apparently I am smack dab in the middle of it all now. I did the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, and I didn't do too bad, thank you very much. Something about finishing that race, which I had built up in my own mind as being such a major deal, seems to have set off other things in my head. I am sort of more "active" in general, and am now training for a 5k. It's half the length of the Mud Run, and does not involve swimming across a river, so I think it will be fine. Started the official training program for it last night, and my main complaint about it is what I have about running in general, i.e. it bores me. I think I will get over it eventually. I'm also considering (quite seriously) going out for a gay rugby team. I'm thinking they will be welcoming. From what I can see from Facebook, they really like talking about rugby. Justin, of course, played at Emory and wants me to ask them about "shooting the boot" or some such, which sounds more than a little filthy to me, so I am more than happy to do so.

And then there's marriage. Apparently I can do so now if I want to. Suddenly the urge for mating has become, well, urgent. A phantom uterus has begun to tick. Loudly. Desire for 3 bedroom home with two and half baths is becoming an obsession. This is also precipitating a scrutiny of my career path. Although I do not condone shortcuts in life, I am beginning to wonder if some adjustments in direction need to made (and soon) if I really want to be hanging out with some toddlers by the time I am in my early 40's. The idea being that they are my toddlers, not someone else's. Of course, all of this has nothing to do with getting married per se, but it seems to be connected in my mind.

Am I more conservative than I think?