A story without a plot

Down in the valley

The sky is overcast and rain lightly falls today. I don’t know how and I really can’t explain it but I’ve found myself off-peak today. Nothing feels right. Every situation appears to be under a shade of gray.

I could try to figure it out. I could blame the sinus infection that still lingers. I could attribute some of it to the stress I relate to owning a home now that I do. I could go into a little envy and betrayal I feel towards a certain person and a certain sense of circumstances. I could say it is just a slump I’m feeling right now or one that I sense in my personal life. I could blame it on the weather.

I will write more about it privately, but to explain it here? Impossible really. Plus, this sense of impending doom only intensifies when I attempt to focus on it.

All I know is this; I’ve begun to identify feelings. I know I feel stress and frustration and discontentment with certain situations and I tend to try to ignore the feelings. That usually results in odd behavior. I know over the past few weeks I’ve stuffed certain thoughts down because I feel that I’m either being selfish, self-pitying, or whining. I do so because I’m afraid if I share it with someone I will be judged, or perhaps hear something I don’t want to hear.

The frustrating thing is that the feelings I have identified with situations that are troubling me will not be remedied by changing the situation. I can’t change anything really until my attitude and outlook changes. I’m caught in the same conundrum I always get into as I descend into the valley: I know I can’t “see” or “think” or “feel” my way out of the situation.

These feelings really hurt and when I am in them I start thinking it will always be like this and that it always has been. I “know” this isn’t true but that is how it feels. The valleys are not as deep as they once were though, mostly because I learned (or am learning) to stop trying to figure out the why of it.

Sometimes it just is what it is.

So how about you?

Today's events:

1. Sit on ass.
2. Maybe fix breakfest for dinner.
3. See what others are up to.
4. Perhaps rent/see a movie.

Cosmic crisis

The geek in me saw the geek in you, the rest of the world this week, as I perused the Internets and multiple news websites.

If you’ve missed it some parts of our media world have been abuzz with the reclassification of planets in the Solar system. Drama ran rampant in the geek-o-sphere all week.

At first some astronomers wanted to reclassify three celestial bodies – UB313 (aptly named Xena by some sexually frustrated astronomer), Ceres (a planet for about 50 years in the 1800s) and Charon – as three new planets, bringing the number up to 12.

Then wait a minute, no, said another group of astronomers They argued instead that Pluto and the other three small celestial bodies should be demoted and reclassified as “dwarf planets,” bringing the sum total of real planets to 8.

And so it goes. An association of astronomers changed the number of planets in our solar system with a vote. Pluto as a class A planet is no more.

Now the Internets are abuzz with the backwash of such a radical realignment. What about the children? What about their toys and textbooks? How will simple science fair projects be radically altered? How will planetariums and plastic solar system models be affected? The list of concerns and raging debate among the masses goes on. I giggle with a child’s glee.

The one thing that captured my imagination more than any other thing – comic books or literature or toys – was astronomy. The complexity and theories surrounding the universe (or multi-verse if you believe) consistently fired my imagination. The idea that I was made of the same cosmic stuff as what was out there blew my mind. I had every book imaginable when it came to the study of the stars. That passion went through college as I took three or four astronomy courses.

Today what strikes me as I read the news stories is this; with the quagmire of such a screwed up planet Earth at least a part of our culture can get lost in a rather insignificant debate. Is Pluto a planet or not?

I love the fact that people can stand on the cusp of something infinitely larger and more impermeable to time than us and struggle with the attempt to define it, to understand it. Whatever we as humans do or think really won’t affect it. That distant ice ball called Pluto will still be there doing what it does long after the voting body that bumped it down a notch are dead and gone.

Ironically, I find it equally important that scientist do so, that they focus on those big abstractions and sometime silly debates and definitions. It interjects some perspective, imagination, and childlike reverence for what is bigger than us, even as we pound the crap out of each other on one small planet over the ideas of creation, a creation that seams as equally infinite, impermiable, and viewed with shifting perspective.

Woof

It only figures that in my third day back to work I am as sick as a dog. I don’t know how sick dogs actually get, but if K9 sickness involves sore glands, runny nose, ringing ears, a stiff back, and a dry cough then I feel for our four legged friends.

So, I am slogging through my first day back on the job after a week off. Effing hell. There is so much to do. The week before a vacation and the week after is definitely punishment. Whatever “paid” time off is earned at the co. is amply paid back within the week before and after trying to get ahead and then catch up.

That said I am still finding time to take a brief respite during a mini-break to write this.

I’m caught up on most e-mail, the political blogs, news websites, and other local sources of information. In the act of looking to see what went on in the sphere I inhabit and was conspicuously absent from last week one thought struck me; this whole thing feels like a *soap opera. No, I don’t mean Patch kidnapped Marlana or Bo left Hope. I’m talking about the knowledge, much like growing up watching soaps in the summer with my mother, that I can walk away from plot threads for a week, return, and pick it all back up right where I left off without missing so much as a beat. Our bloated culture seems to get so caught up in the 24/7 news cycle, but really aren’t we all just saying and consuming the same plot line over and over again? Isn’t it true that real change or “news” moves in increments slower than a snail’s pace? If I can close my eyes and then open them later why do I need 24/7 seven coverage telling me everything that is going on in the world? How about waking me for the presidential debates or upcoming elections?

*Just so you know, I watched soaps at 11 through 13 because it was as close to soft-core pron I could view after my parents’ cancelled Skinemax. It haunts me to this day that soap opera star names, lines, and plots have adhered permanently to parts of my brain where things like mathematical formulas and grammatical rules will not.

My company email

    Never one to just let things be I began prepping some today for Monday. I checked my remote access to my company e-mail. My stomach sank. I think I have something like 200 to 300 new e-mails. A lot of them looked like junk. A few of them were marked URGENT! Ah, press agents and their go get'em releases. Others though were the kind I am going to have to start slogging through either tonight or tomorrow night in hopes of catching up enough to do the other important stuff. Of course, having been away a week it is all important stuff.

Done

    The move is complete. Everything is in its place. Furniture was moved and removed. Boxes were unpacked and stored. Hopefully this will be it for a while. I like the new place, even with the jitters of knowing my first real mortgage payment is due in a month. It's just like rent. It's just like rent. That's been the mantra. Well, that and it will all work out. Every new commitment in my life has.   
    More than anything I hope to return to regular posts and a regular way of doing things shortly. I must admit though a second week of vacation would be nice.

Pooped

Lost or Damaged:

• Two legs on entertainment center snapped off due to poor construction (and poor planning by tilting heavy unit up on its side).
• The little drawer on the underside of computer desk. Acted as a projectile while taking wild turn in busy intersection. Wood flew further than a Chinese throwing star. No injuries. No insurance claims.

Left to do:

• Finish clean up of apartment.
• Put things away in house.
• Re-route water and wiring for Thursday's arrival of washing machine.
• Cut grass. It is a jungle out there.
• Try to get one day rest during days off.

This is it

Today is the day dear reader. Most of the boxes are packed. My new(er) bedroom set is ready. At 8 a.m. I go and get the keys to the HOUSE. I guess getting the keys will make everything really real, not just on-paper real. Fear, nervousness, and excitement is the mood. I officially hold a mortgage. Eek.

Argh!!!!

One of the most disheartening elements of taking a vacation within a field where one’s life is ruled by deadlines is the week before vacation and the week after.

I’m slowly loosing my mind this week with trying to keep up on what I have to do this week while trying to think far enough in advance to have everything in place for next week’s production schedule so co-workers do not wish to end my life upon my return.

It is tough, particularly when there are special projects due, meetings to be had, and heart attacks to be avoided. Right now it is a diet of Tums and very long work hours. Of course I keep asking myself if it is all worth it, especially since I’ll be hulling all my crap into my new digs next week.

Perhaps I will need a vacation from my vacation.