It's Time

In the interest of full disclosure, I am a Barack Obama supporter. If this post tends to lean towards that point of view, don't be too surprised.

It's time to put an end to this. The Democratic Party holds their Rules and Bylaws Committee Meeting Saturday to decide the fate of the Florida and Michigan delegates. The party rules, as laid out before the first primary or caucus, was that neither of these state's delegates would be seated at the convention due to their disregard of the timeline set forth for scheduling primaries.

In my opinion, a reasonable compromise would be to seat half the delegates for Florida since all candidates were on the ballot. This would punish the state for not following the rules, and would still give the voters a voice at the convention. The primary date was moved by the Republican Governor and Republican controlled state legislature in an attempt to create the chaos in Democratic Party which now exists. They (the Republicans) disenfranchised their residents, so the voters should not be completely unheard.

Michigan is a bit more of a problem. All of the candidates were not on the ballot, as many of them removed their names to stay in line with the party's rules. Hillary Clinton did not remove her name and received 55% of the vote. A full 40% of the voters selected "uncommitted" meaning they wanted any other Democrat besides her to represent them. Again, a fair compromise would be to seat half of the delegates. The "uncommitted" delegates should be awarded to the only other non-Clinton Democrat still vying for the nomination, Barack Obama. Like Florida, this gives the Michigan residents a voice in selecting their nominee.

Now that I've settled that, let me move onto why this won't resolve the issue. The thing is that Saturday's meeting, or even the final primaries on Tuesday, will not be the end. When the sun rises on Wednesday, Obama will have a majority of the pledged delegates and likely will have enough of the superdelegates to surpass the number needed for nomination; regardless of the disposition of the Florida and Michigan delegates. It is obvious that will of the majority of party voters want Obama to represent them in the general election.

Unfortunately, the Clinton campaign is no longer about rescuing this country from the eight disastrous years of the Bush regime... it's all about Hillary. She will file suit to win in court when couldn't win at the ballot box. She will drag the convention into pandemonium. She will strong arm superdelegates. She will continue to play on the bigotry of a number of her supporters. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she mounted an independent run at the White House. She's a power hungry egomaniac no better than the current President. My fear is that no one can reason with her and demonstrate how she is jeopardizing the Democratic ideals she espouses to represent. The only person capable of doing this is Bill Clinton, and he's gone off the deep end.

This has to stop. The idiocy of the war in Iraq, the economy spiraling into depression, the decimation of the Constitution, the disappearance of the middle class, the disregard of the environment, the governance of fear and religious fanaticism. The time has come for the Democratic Party to get their act together, to unite behind the justly selected nominee, and work to elect Barack Obama.

I'll be solving the problems in the Middle East, the schism in the Anglican Church, and the debate between paper or plastic at a later date. Stay tuned.

Damn, I look too good to be here

I'm not a dress up for work kind of guy. People who know me will attest to that. If I could get away with it, you'd find me behind my desk in shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers. I'm lucky in that my job allows for a bit more casual attire than your typical office on many days. Think of it as Casual Friday four or five days a week instead of one. There are days that call for taking it up a notch, and extra special days like today that call for more drastic measures... like a suit and tie (not this tie).

I try not to look at myself in any mirrors. The Abode of Bobness has only three mirrors. The two in the bathroom are fixed, so I can't really do anything about them short of covering them. Fortunately, I don't spend that much time in there. I'm either TCB'ing (no mirror there) or in the shower (again no mirror). I do have to look in the mirror when shaving, but fortunately I can concentrate on the task at hand and not subject myself to the entire full picture experience. That image first thing in the morning is even too harsh for my strong constitution.

The third mirror, attached to my bedroom dresser, has been strategically placed so that my gaze will not inadvertently fall upon the disturbing image projecting back from it. But this morning, I had to strike up the inner courage and fortitude to face my face and put on my tie for the day. I was shocked... I didn't look too bad. At my best I'm marginally average, but this morning I may have been able to elevate myself to slightly appealing. Decked out in the grown up pinstripe suit (dark colors can be slimming), I'll spend the rest of the day looking all spiffy for the co-workers and the guests at our wingding this evening.

I look too good to be here at work. OK good is a stretch, but I look too better than marginally average to be at work. Wearing this surprisingly still in style suit, you could drop me into a dimly lit room right before last call and if the light hit me at just the right angle I could almost be mistaken for somewhat handsome. So here I sit, all dressed up and no place to go. Seems a shame to waste this peak moment of Bobness toiling at work.

Coming around the corner

I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but it seems like things may have turned the corner for the better. It's funny how when things are going bad, you can't even catch a lucky break... but when things are going good it starts a chain reaction. It may have started back on track Monday, but picked up some momentum on Tuesday with a lucky break in the morning and a thoughtful email from an old friend in the afternoon. Today was steady as she goes, headed back in the right direction. There may be an unexpected curve down the road, but for right now I'm keeping it in the center lane and traveling down life's highway.

Free Spirit and Passion

The Band of Heathens latest album, their first studio album, hit the stores last Tuesday. This band of talented individual musicians from Austin, Texas kind of just found each other and instantly clicked. One of their members is a guy I know and have a great deal of admiration for... Ed Jurdi. I met Ed through a mutual friend, watching him do gigs at the Tin Palace, Dolphin Striker, and any number of little bars and pubs throughout the Portsmouth/Durham, New Hampshire area. Those were some fun nights, hanging outside on those patio decks on warm summer nights with friends sipping on adult beverages and listen to Ed belt out his own original works and the occasion cover of a Van Morrison or Black Crowes classic.

I've always thought Ed had a lot of guts and heart, and these qualities definitely come through in his music. He's a free spirit in every sense of the word. You really need to have a love for music to make your life from it. He'd play two or three gigs a week, sometimes for not much more than beer money or a small cover at the door. Countless weekends, smoky bars (yes you can still smoke in NH), and packing and unpacking the equipment for those few bucks he was making and for his music. Eventually he and his wife moved to Austin, a hot bed of live music to make more of a mark. Bigger bars, more attention, and the happen chance meeting of Gordy Quist and the rest of the guys who would make up The Band of Heathens.

I often wish I had the free spirit and passion of Ed Jurdi. His creativity, writing skills, and of course musical talent is inspiring. It may be a job and what puts food on the table for him and his family, but it's also a passion and that's something missing from my life. I've always thought that I would be a much happier person if I had more of these qualities. Unfortunately, I know I could never live comfortably without the security of a regular paycheck. I'm enough of a wreck knowing that direct deposit is coming every two weeks. I used to love what I do, but the bloom is off the rose and now it's just a job... living paycheck to paycheck. There's no passion in playing referee between difficult employees, creating yet another spreadsheet, or signing purchase orders. It's become void of any free spirit, creativity, passion and therefore any fulfillment.

I sit here tonight, putting out these words listening to Ed and the Heathens. I tear up a little, yearning for those peaceful nights with friends at the "TP", the total absence of free spirit in my makeup, and for the passion that has been slowly worn away in my life. This blog is my small chance to be creative and to bring some of what is left of my inner passions to the surface. I hope it moves you the way Ed Jurdi does for me.

Mute Monday: COURAGE

Less for More

It wasn't a very Lucky experience when I went grocery shopping yesterday.

<-What's wrong here->

What the heck is going on here? Hormel Chili "without beans" is $1 more expensive than the same size can of Hormel Chili "with beans." That's a huge difference for maybe two servings of chili. You've got wonder what the reasoning is here. How can it cost more to make chili with less ingredients? Do they make only one batch of chili (with beans) and then pick out the beans? Is that $1 worth the convenience of not having pick out the beans yourself?

What other products am I paying more for less? Is my 2% milk more than whole milk? Is skim milk even more expensive that 2%? Is my Folgers Half Caff more expensive than regular? Is fully decaffeinated even more costly? At least with these products, there could be some reasonable rationale. It's not like anyone can take home whole milk and take out some of the fat or buy regular coffee and decaffeinate it themselves. There is a cost to the additional processing it takes to produce this different product. Would you pay extra at a fast food joint for a burger without onions? Heck no. If they tried that stunt you'd pay for the regular burger and pick the onions off yourself.

I never paid that close attention at the grocery store in the past. Beans or no beans I would have just grabbed what I wanted. Now that I have the pleasure of paying $4.1299 for a gallon of "cheap" gas and forking over an extra $100 per month rent starting in June every penny means more. That means spending more time in the aisles comparing prices, buying generic store brands, and buying the higher fat content ground beef because it's cheaper. Looks like I'll be buying the regular chili and eating my way around the beans thank you very much.

Olbermann Special Comment

I quit

I had a really good, positive posting in mind that would have gone here but that will have to wait for another time.

I quit (almost) #1: I came this close to quitting my job today. Without a backup plan or nest egg to land on, it would have been a huge mistake. It took me a few moments to mull over the benefits of homelessness vs. my shitty job, shitty co-workers, and right now shitty life choice. Reason won out. There's no guarantee that I won't wait till that next paycheck comes and a full month's rent is payed that I might not say fuck it. I hate these people, I hate how they're ruining a tremendous opportunity, and I hate what they do to my mental stability and ability to enjoy life. I'm not a religious person at all, but I'm going to pray tonight that the resume I sent out recently or the inquiries I've made amongst industry friends will yield an opportunity and get me out of this fucking hell hole.

I quit #2: I quit Elsie. Maybe the more accurate statement would be that I quit the hope of Elsie. It's a good bet, short of a miracle, that you'll never again read that combination of letters again on this blog. She is a great person. She's beautiful, intelligent, witty, entertaining, and down right sexy as hell. She truly is the only really attractive woman who's ever shown any interest in me. I've met some nice women, cute in their own way, but no one like her, ever. We were both in a place in our lives where we knew what we wanted, or didn't want, and somehow I thought they matched perfectly. I don't know if she ever really meant it when she said she wanted to get together again when things slowed down in her life. She'd always been honest with me before, so I took her at her word. But someone who can't put aside a few hours in over four months to even sit down for dinner and drinks isn't trying very hard. Someone who won't even return a "how you doing?" message isn't trying at all. I read a quote on a blog last night (I'm so sorry I don't remember which one, they really deserve credit for it): "Don't let someone become a priority in your life if you're only an option in their life." It's clear I'm not even an option. She was my lone light in this now horrific choice to move to California, and she snuffed it out for me. I have enough misery to deal with (see #1), I can't allow "what could have been" with her to depress me any more. I quit.

I quit #3: I quit thinking there is someone for me. I won't even start looking anymore. I've resigned myself to the fact that person doesn't exist. I'm in full lock-down, crisis control, self defense mode. I was never an open person. The few times I've lowered the tower gate and permitted someone behind the castle walls they've crushed me. I'm not an attractive person. I'm not tall, dark, handsome, or wealthy. More than once a women I was interested in has said: "You're a great guy, women should be lined up to meet you" or words to that effect. She (see #2) being the most recent with that bullshit inspirational message. The ironic thing is when I reply: "we should try going out then" the answer has always been no. It's funny how that works out... you're good enough for all of those women in line but not me. I've never seen this mythical line, and I suspect there never has been, is, or will be one. The immediate reaction of the depressive mind is to seize on a negative thought and build upon it. I can't afford to torture myself right now a with series of what if's and what will never be's. Erase the doubt and stop trying.

I quit (maybe) #4: I possibly quit sobriety. I have abused alcohol all my adult life. Drinking for me has rarely been about feeling good, it's been about not feeling bad or not feeling at all. Over the years I was able to get away with it. That was until last year when it finally bit me. Since that fateful night in January 2007, I've promised myself I will only have a drink when I want one, not when I feel like I need one. 16 months later I have lived up to that commitment to myself and have not drank to escape the demons inside my head. A wine at dinner or a beer at the ballgame sure, but not a self-prescribed dose of numbness. There's an ice cold twelve pack in the fridge right now that may not be there in the morning.

I quit (not) #5: I'm not quitting blogging. Quite frankly this exercise and those people who I have "met" over the past week are the only things keeping me sane right now. In what is a terrible time professionally and nonexistent time personally, you're the people I see behind me like in the Verizon advertisements. Blogging has become the therapy I am not getting elsewhere. Please know that the support, encouragement, laughter, and tears that those of you who are reading and responding bring me are a lifeline at this moment. You are a far-away light that flickers faintly with the message that there may be light somewhere in this darkness.

Peeking in the mailbox

What's in the spam mailbox today?

Work From Home... Job Openings in Your Area
If I work from home how could it not be in my area?
NursingLink... Huge Shortage of Nurses
Maybe I should work as a nurse from home
girls chat... Alert: girls online NOW
Hmm, they must have taken the Work From Home course
Cancun Getaway... You Have Been Awarded 3 nights in Cancun
3 Days not included
Vegas Vacation... Claim 2 Free nights in Las Vegas
Does this include hookers, strippers, and unlimited gambling?
Casting Dept... Casting Calls In Your Area
They must have seen my all of my YouTube credits
Language Learning... Learn a Language in 10 days
I haven't mastered English 40 years, how am I going to learn Yiddish in 10 days
Remarkable Income... The 3-Billion Dollar Home Business
I should have read this one before the Work At Home ad
Power Tea... You've Heard it on Oprah
I heard Tom Cruise too but I'm not becoming a closeted Scientologist either
Video Game Schools... Find Your Route to a Gamers Dream Career
Finally I can get rich playing Solitare and Leisure Suit Larry
Forex Assasin... Stolen Stock Market Secrets
From the founders of Enron, Tyco, and Global Crossing

Honey, I'm Home

My baby is back!!! As has been widely reported, country singer (and Canada's greatest export) Shania Twain is getting a divorce. After denying herself true love and eternal bliss with the Essence of Bobness, my Shania has finally come to her senses and cleared herself of any impediment to our future nuptuals. To begin, she made a monumental mistake by committing herself to music producer Robert "Mutt" Lange. It was a career move for her, so I certainly don't fault her for it. She believed, incorrectly, that Mutt could take her career to the next level. He's rock, she's country/pop so I knew that it wouldn't work out. Notice how many great albums she put out in Lange's tutleage? She should have known... he's a "Robert" (not a Bob) and that meant trouble from the beginning. Don't even get me started on the whole "Mutt" thing. Ladies, never fall for a mutt unless he's on four legs and chases a frisbee around the back yard. She put her career ahead of her undying love for me.

Make no mistake about it, she absolutely adores me. Worships the ground I walk on might be too strong an expression, but it's damn close to it. I'll share with you the moment it happened, this ultimate instance of love at first sight. It was at Fiddler's Green Amphitheatre in Denver, Colorado. She was performing a concert on my birthday in May 1999. There's no doubt in anyone's mind that she specifically routed her North American tour that year to be in Denver on my birthday. In all the venues she could have been that fateful night, she chose to spend the evening with me. Anyway the group of friends I was with had seats about six rows back, right in the center section. It was a rather chilly night, many people bundled up in blankets, passing on beer and drinks for coffee and hot cocoa. She looked radiant as always, tight black slacks and a jacket to keep her warm on the cold spring evening. During her hit song You Win My Love, she made it a point to scan the entire audience of 20,000 people and find me in the sixth row. I know her stage manager must have told her where to look, on her orders of course. She belted out that song in her most heartfelt voice and looked straight at me. Even with the concert lights and flashing cameras, the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes made it well known that she picked that moment and that song to announce her unconditional yearning for me. It was a bit embarrassing, but flattering nonetheless. It was at that tenderest of moments that she was expressing her true feelings about me to the world.

So now, the future will be ours. She's in what I would call a semi-retirement and has not toured in quite a few years. It's apparent that she is ready to settle down and has come to the realization that she can no longer live the Mutt charade and deny her true feelings. I can't imagine the pain she must have been living through. Knowing in her heart that the road to her happiness was within reach, only to be kept away by a monumental mistake in judgment... her career over her heart. But all of that is in the past now. It won't be a big wedding, just the closest of our friends and family. We will share our joy with those who mean the most to us. We complete each other, and our love will shine like a beacon in the night for the world to behold.

Keeping Score 3.0

1. When I clean my ears, it seems like the left ear is always more waxy than the right ear;
2. Conversely, when I clip my toenails the right ones are always longer than the left ones;
3. It dawned on me today that 18 year olds who will vote in their first Presidential election in November have never known a time when a Bush or Clinton wasn't the President;
4. Good Boston cancer news: Red Sox pitcher (and cancer survivor) Jon Lester pitched a no-hitter Monday night against Kansas City;
5. Bad Boston cancer news: Long time Senator Ted Kennedy was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor Tuesday;
6. Everyday I find another read-worthy blog by checking through other people's blog roll. Today I found Crissy... through a Recovering Californian who I found from Oakland Heidi
7. "Elsie" and I haven't chatted in nearly two weeks;
8. The Stanley Cup Finals begin Saturday. It should be a great series between the Red Wings and Penguins.
9. Absolutely nothing happened in my life today. Zip, zero, zilch;
10. I gotta get out more.

Regis, can I use a lifeline?

I called my mother today. While this may not seem a grand revelation or something noteworthy, it had symbolic meaning to me. I love my mother dearly and we have a good relationship. We normally talk on a fairly consistent basis. It's not every day or even every week, but still it happens on a somewhat regular schedule.

I haven't been a good son lately. I didn't call on her birthday (April) and I didn't call her on Mother's Day (May 11). I didn't forget either date, they didn't slip my mind. My cell phone had plenty of minutes and there were ample opportunities. When my depression takes hold of my life, I can't bring myself to call her. Part of it is the isolation that depressive thoughts bring with them. The more pertinent reason is I can't let her hear me like that. I can't let her know I'm not the strong, smart, capable son she thinks I am. I can't disappoint her. Of course, I bear the guilt of not calling on these important dates which makes it all the more difficult to pick up the phone.

One of the sad things is that I suspect she already knows. Maybe not that I've sought out treatment or had some therapy, but on some level she realizes I have some emotional problems. I think she understands when I drop off the earth for extended periods of time that things aren't good. Many years ago when I was living at home she found a letter in my dresser drawer which sounded an awful lot like a suicide note. It honestly was not, but an outside reader could have certainly interpreted it that way. It went into great detail about how my funeral would go, how no one would be there except her and my brother, that type of thing. When she found it, she was in tears and begged for me not to harm myself and that she would pay for therapy. I was in my 20's, and that was only the second time she had cried in front of me. That image of the hurt I caused her is burned into my memory, and I can't allow her to feel that way again because of me.

I know my mother loves me. She's done so much for me in my life that I could talk to her about all of this and she would be loving and supportive. I can't do that. She's had enough pain in her life, I won't add to it. I finally felt well enough to call today. We talked about an hour, a long time for us. She sounded so good and it lifted my spirits just to hear her voice. All of the good things going on for her were icing on the cake. It made all of the crap that is my life right now go away for those 60 minutes. That's why the simple act of calling my mother is symbolic. It means I've beaten back the demons for now. They always regroup, but for right now I've reached an uneasy truce with them.

Mute Monday: Different Sports Strokes

YIM or YAWN?

I'm pathetic, I'll be the first one to admit it. I do consider myself to be a little less pathetic than before, but pathetic nonetheless. Exhibit "A" of evidence is Yahoo Instant Messenger (or YIM for short). Every night when getting home I fire up the trusty laptop and go immediately to turn on my YIM. Now the reasoning behind this should be obvious... I'm waiting (o.k. hoping) for an instant message from someone.

Those messages used to come a lot more frequently. No, I don't mean the "hi cutie, cum visit my webcam" messages, although those do arrive frequently enough. As if the Viagra and penis enlargement spam emails weren't enough, now these scammers feel it imporant to instantly detach me of my money $3.99 a minute at a time.

But I digress. "Elsie" used to chat with me a few times a week on YIM. It was always after 10:00pm, which I surmise is when the kids were safely tucked into their beds. Sometimes just chatting about the events of the day, sometimes a little racier, I've always enjoyed them. At times they were quickies as one or the other had to get some sleep, but other times I'd look at the clock and it would be 2:00am when we signed off. We weren't (aren't) getting together as much as I wanted (want), but at least our chats kept me connected. Well, circumstances have changed... she's busier than ever and doesn't even seem to have time for this. Needless to say, it's frustrating and disheartening. At some point in the future there will be a blogpost for the ladies to tell me if I'm naive or optimistic.

Now why am I less pathetic than before? Well, in the past I'd wait and wait for that familiar "ping" to let me know she started a conversation. I'm not exaggerating when I say I would stare at the screen like a puppy dog waiting for a table scrap. Those sad eyes, waiting and waiting. Sometimes the "ping" would come and my tail (among other things) would start wagging. Sometimes it wouldn't, and I'd go to bed with the sad puppy face and start the next morning with a dour outlook. Now I still wait for the "ping" but without the drama. I wish she would shoehorn me into her spare time, but don't fret if she doesn't. It has taken a lot of strength and will power to change my attitude to "in her own time, I won't rush her." The change has helped to keep The Fog away for the time being. But right now, it's more YAWN (Yahoo Always Waiting, Nothing) than YIM over the world wide web.

Olbermann Special Comment

Personal vs. Personnel

Yes, they sound very similar... and are even spelled almost alike. What gets me is that many of my personnel over the years can't (or don't want to) understand the line that differentiates the two very separate things. Now those of you independently wealthy folk or those who work for themselves may not get where this is going. If not (or if you're bored already), you have my blessing to skip the rest and surf to your merriment. This might be a cool place to start.

I draw a line when it comes to personnel and personal. It's none of my personnel's business what's going on in my personal life outside the confines of the workplace:

Q: How are you today?
A: I'm fine.

That's it... end of discussion. If I had wanted to share anymore then I would have. Sometimes I will bring more to the table, but that will be of my own volition and not by prodding or inquiring more. In fact, questioning will generally bring a total shut down and a swift end to the conversation. I'll be nice about it... but it will end right there. I'm not heartless, but I frankly don't care if that reaction offends them. Some get it... and they are usually the ones I end up liking more. People who understand boundries and don't cross them get my instant respect.

The frustrating ones surmise (wrongly) that letting it rest for a while and coming back with a different approach is going to work any better. Usually this in the form of a statement, not a question, that is intended to elicit a forthcoming response. Somehow, they think by not asking but speculating that I'll open up to them like a close friend or therapist.

You seem a bit distant (distracted).
You look like you have something on your mind.

Now this ends up being much more annoying. Not once but now twice they've attempted to cross the line. The first time I've been courteous, and as an employer I do have to set an example. A second foray into my personal space and I turn unpleasant. Standard operating procedure is the "I'm fine" response combined with a terse, icy cold look and an awkward silence. It's the kind of look that pierces right through you and is meant to send a chill down the spine of the receiver. (Chances are I learned this one from my mother during numerous trips down the cereal aisle as a child). This almost always works and has the secondary effect of dissuading similar tactics in the near future.

Thinking about it, I have some responsibility for this. As the co-worker that always seems enthused (more background), when I'm curt or non-responsive it encourages further probing. He's not his happy-go-lucky self, there must be something wrong that I can fix. Yet still, personnel should understand that "I'm fine" requires no additional questions. Friends are another matter entirely, but these people are not my friends. I don't go out with them on Saturdays, they've never been to my place, and I certainly don't call them for personal advice on my off time. They are personnel... not personal... and the two shall not meet anytime soon.

Tie me up baby

There has been much discussion on another blog about my choice in neckwear. This is one of my favorite ties. I think it looks good, and looks good on me. It's a bit like putting lipstick on a pig, but I do what I can to at least elevate myself to presentable to the rest of the world.

Here is a little closer up look. It's a kind of difficult to tell the color from the cheesy camera-phone photo, but it is a muted yellow. Now yellow is supposed to be a power color for ties. Against the solid blue button down dress shirt and accentuated by the snappy sport coat, it was a very appropriate selection. The I.D. lanyard does sort of break up the GQ look I was trying to achieve.

Now here is a close up of said sartorial splendor. Here you can make out the details of what makes this tie extra special. Again, another bad camera-phone picture but you get the general idea. The print pattern is that of blue golf bags, old style. Interwoven are random displays of golfers, caddies, and other golf themed items. They are all throw-back images, with golfers in knickers, long sleeved shirts and ties, and hats from the era of Ben Hogan and Bobby Jones. Once again, the blue golf bags work well with the blue dress shirt... and the tan highlights in the golf bags fit perfectly with the sport coat.

There you have it.... the yellow golf power tie in all its glory. I wish I could remember where I bought this beauty so everyone could share the same pride and joy that I do when I find an opportunity to wear it. Then again, it sets me apart so even IF I do remember, I'm keeping it all to myself!!!

Will She or Won't She?

Will she or won't she contact me tonight?

Looking rationally at this question, from a detached perspective, there are only two possible answers:

YES/NO

But when have I ever been rational when it comes to "Elsie"? A few of my psychoses relevant to this discussion will be my penchants for overanalysis, reading too much into a situation, and setting myself up for disappointment. So here's the back story... I last chatted with her on Saturday night. It didn't last very long and I suspect she wasn't too excited to hear from me (overanalyzing). I saw her online using Yahoo IM, which is a rarity. She must have slipped up and not logged in as "invisible" as she usually does. My plan was to wait and see if she would respond to a previous offline message and initiate a conversation (my need for acceptance). After what seemed like an eternity, in reality an agonizingly long three minutes, I couldn't hold back and made the first move. I was funny and flirty, she was more matter-of-fact-ish. I sensed (overanalyzed) she was bothered that she had left her profile visible and now was placating me (reading too much into a situation).

Anyway, it's Wednesday now. I've given her some space and won't press my luck. I'll wait for her to contact me. Left to her own schedule, I hear from her about once a week, less if she's traveling. This is a constant source of personal consternation and doesn't help my self-image issues. As you can see, if she doesn't I'll be setting myself up for a disappointment. I promised myself that I'd be patient and let her move at her own pace. But just like Saturday night, I keep jumping in and trying to rush things. As an aside, this is because I think she's great and we could be perfect for one another (how's that for setting myself up for disappointment!). Hopefully I won't torture myself if she doesn't check in. In the past, the world would come to an end if I didn't hear from her. Now it just jerks suddenly like a small earthquake... enough to get your attention but not disrupt your day. Maybe I'm getting better at rolling with the punches.

The Fog

Many years ago, probably more than ten, I played golf at the Crooked Tree Golf Club in Petoskey, Michigan. For those who don't know where Petoskey is located, it's on Lake Michigan at the very top of the lower peninsula of the state. It was the last day of my summer vacation, and it was a bright sunny day which seemed perfect for 18 holes. While I was making my way from the clubhouse to the first tee, a thick layer of fog rolled in off the lake and made it virtually impossible to play. The fog was as thick as I had ever encountered and I could maybe see only 20 yards ahead. Of course I gave it a go playing the first three or so holes in the fog, losing quite a few balls and racking up a big score. Eventually, the breeze blew the fog away and the day was very pleasant.

As someone afflicted with depression, I will at times (now included) suffer from a condition I call "the fog." Very much like Crooked Tree, I never know when it's going to roll in. Any number of things can trigger it, with no rhyme or reason. At one time extreme stress will trigger it, other times stress does not. I've found things like frustration, confusion and disappointment can initiate an episode. Holiday's usually don't have any affect on me, although I will concede that my birthday this year likely contributed to my current condition.

While it's difficult to explain "the fog" I'll give it a try. My mind goes what I'll term numb, except for the dull, ever present headache. It's hard to concentrate on any task, no matter how routine. Indecision reigns, making it tough to figure out what to do next or how to do it. I'll often walk into a room, forgetting why I went in there. Even though the brain goes numb, the nerve endings seem to ignite. The senses become heightened, making such things as bright light and loud music not just annoying but actually painful. "The fog" also enhances many of the common characteristics associated with depression including low self esteem and worthlessness, helplessness, isolation, feeling overwhelmed, thoughts of suicide, etc.

Much like the atmospheric condition, "the fog" is possible for me to muddle through. Just like you can drive in fog, I can operate at a much reduced field of vision and speed. It's murky and dark, but slowly and methodically I can inch along. Also similar to the real thing, "the fog" burns off slowly and eventually yields a clear mind and outlook. How long it takes to clear varies with each episode. Much like the randomness that sets off an event, there is nothing that I or anyone else can do to help. I have to ride out the storm and hope it doesn't linger an extended period.

As you can gather from the length of this post my current "fog" is starting to lift, allowing me to slowly return to my semi-normal self. It also explains the last two days of blog posts, an outward expression of the pain and inner turmoil that "the fog" brings. I'll be ok, but it's going to take a while... until the weather changes and the clouds return anew.

Sunday

Life is cruel

Life dangles the promise of joy
of all that can be,
It teases and tempts
giving a reason to pursue it,
It offers up a glimpse
of heaven and nirvana,
It flashes up moments
that shine like the sun,
It tickles the fancy
with the hope of ecstasy,
It entices the mind
with dreams and ambitions,
It moves you emotions
that can not be equaled,
It lures you with visions
of splendor and peace

Life rips them apart
the promise and hope,
It crushes them flat
the heaven and nirvana,
It strips them away
the moments of joy,
It takes them with malice
the dreams and ambitions,
It blinds them with spite
the splendor and peace,
It denies them the light,
and snuffs out the sun

They were never there
a mirage all along,
They never existed
a trick of the mind,
They seem so real
yet never realized,
They appear within reach
but never attainable,
They are just a lie
meant to destroy

Life wins again
the light fades away,
The darkness envelops
what's left of the heart.

???

A 10/90 Kind of Day...

The axiom goes... 10% of your personnel take up 90% of your time. Anyone who manages staff knows this is the truth. Well, today (and a Friday on top of it) was a 10/90 kind of day. My calendar wasn't crazy today (as I try to do), but the only meeting I had scheduled was an important one. It was a Finance Committee meeting to present the 2008-09 Budget and request an emergency allocation for a facility renovation project. No pressure there... asking for $750K to keep the lights on for the next 10 years, and presenting an operating budget in a state that's facing a $20-billion budget deficit. Needless to say it was important.

So getting into the office at my usual 8:30am, I started making the coffee for the crew (as is my routine), and getting my thoughts together for the meeting. Then in comes "trying" employee #1. Now he usually comes in to update me on what he's working on, which in the nature of his position is important for me to know. But today's update rolled right into his semi-regular bitch fest about the people he works with, how he isn't appreciated, and people take advantage of him and his department. Sometimes he does have legitimate grievances, but Friday brought what I would consider more whining than issues. This venting session lasts about 30 minutes. At this point I'm zapped of much of my energy, going round and around with him. Probably more importantly, my attention has been diverted, prep time reduced, and set a bad tone for the day.

After some additional information and ammunition for the meeting, in strolls employee #2. Refer back to yesterday's bullet point #1 for another trying discussion, a carryover from Thursday. Here comes more dialog on a difference in philosophy that won't likely change anytime soon. At this point, one hour of my Friday morning has been consumed with 10% of my staff taking up 90% of my intellectual energy on non-issues. All of this and I haven't even gotten a sip of the now brewed coffee or reviewed the material for the Finance meeting. One hour into a Friday morning and I can see the whole day disintegrating in front of my eyes. I'm drained mentally and the big meeting still lies ahead. Fortunately I have great people around me that pull it all together, make me look much better than I am, and come through in the clutch with the Finance Committee.

Now more than ever, I'm convinced that colleges and universities need to design programs and classes to help train tomorrow's leaders on personnel management. All of the technical skills aside, manager's spend 90% of their time dealing with 10% of their employees. They drag down the entire operation, cause drama and angst among the other 90% of the employees, and distract the focus of the common goals of the organization. People end up expending much of their time and energy figuring out ways to work around the 10% rather than working with them. It's not that their efforts aren't valuable, because much of the time their work product positively impacts the organization. I wonder sometimes whether their efforts are worth the time and trauma invested to get it.

For Those Keeping Score 2.0

1. Some people, as much as you like them, are just very trying. You're drained after just a few minutes of conversation.
2. I sent a card to PostSecret on Monday. It did make me feel good to get it off my chest and I'll see if it makes it to the web.
3. I've almost totally given up on keeping a journal since I started blogging here. I guess I get more satisfaction from sharing my thoughts with the 10's of you reading this than just writing to myself.
4. Thinking back about the last year, and all of the things that have changed for both my friends and myself, I continue to be amazed by how fast time passes.
5. My fortune cookie on Tuesday said, "Your luck has been completely changed today." Well, I'm still waiting and the Fried Rice is gone.
6. It would be nice if "Elsie" contacted me today... it's been a week since our last chat.
7. This 39-degrees wine is good. Thanks to T.F. for the gift.
8. Tonight would have been Game #1 of the NHL Western Conference Finals for the Sharks if they had gotten past Dallas.
9. I'll be rooting for the Flyers in the NHL Eastern Conference Finals. Not only were they my first favorite team (before the Florida Panthers were created or moving to San Jose), but I also have some very good friends in the organization.
10. I've set the wheels in motion for another major life change. We'll see what happens.
11. I've got plenty of more revealing ideas in my "drafts" folder, but I can't do them justice tonight (see #1).
12. My wine glass is empty, so it's time to go!

Just another 1,440 minutes

My birthday is right around the corner and I'm not happy about it. Being another year older really doesn't have anything to do with it. I'm a firm believer that age is just a number. Afterall, what the heck is the difference between 40 years 364 days and 41 years? 1,440 minutes.

I don't celebrate my birthday, it wasn't my choice to be born. It sort of happened nine months after something else just sort of happened. It's not really an accomplishment as I see it. If anyone feels compelled to make note of it, then they can have a whoopie doo, whiz bang time. Just don't expect me to be a part of it. I don't want or desire the attention... and looking at the scale I don't need the lousy grocery store cake and fruit punch office get-together.

Last year I had a great 40th birthday. I wrapped up things at a business conference in the morning and spent the rest of the day driving six plus hours home from Philadelphia to Amherst, MA by myself. No one was the wiser, no one said anything, it was just another day. It was heaven... none of the silliness that goes along with people fawning over the "important" day. No celebration, nothing special to mark the day... just work then a long drive up the Jersey Turnpike stopping only for gas, bathroom breaks and Diet Coke.

This year it falls on a weekend, which is good. I can go about my life just like any other day... alone watching the NHL Playoffs and maybe doing chores around the house. Nothing special, just another 1,440 minutes.

P.S... Mom, when I say I don't want anything I really mean it... I don't want anything.

A Weighty Issue

This is my home scale. Well, not the exact scale but a representative photo of the one in my bathroom. Mine is not that old, probably no more than four years. Every morning after my first cup of coffee and daily constitutional, I'll strip down for my shower and find out what kind of day it's going to be. Lately things have been looking not too bad, consistently around 195 lbs. depending on last night's meal and whether I had that second beer at the hockey game. I wish it was lower, but I'm slowly working on that.

This is the scale at my gym. Well, not the exact scale but a representative photo of the one in my gym. I weigh myself every other day (Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays). There's no set time (morning, afternoon, night), but it's always before I start my exercise. The thing is this one is registering right around 210 lbs. Seriously, the gym scale is consistently 15 lbs. more than the home scale. 197 at home = 212 at the gym. How can that be? I can understand two scales differing by a few pounds, even up to five, but 15 lbs. consistently?

I have a theory, not a very solid one and certainly not based on fact or science (kind of like creationism), but it's a theory nonetheless. The scale in the gym is located in a locker room below ground level. Not deep, deep down but one floor below grade. My home bathroom scale is on the second floor. The extreme altitude shift between the two locations, all of about 30 feet, has altered the laws of physics and magically erases 15 pounds of nachos, Fat Tire, and years of under-activity every morning. Taking a look at the other side of the coin, the gym scale, being located significantly closer to the earth's core, burdens my otherwise healthy specimen with 15 pounds of excesses that I never got to enjoy.

The choice is yours to decide which scale is more accurate... but my drivers license lists 195.

The Essence of Bobness

What does it mean to be a Bob? Afterall, Bob is not just a name, it's also a noun and verb! A great book The Bob Book was published in 1991. It's a humorous, and shockingly accurate, look at what it takes to be a Bob. It's a must read for anyone who has (or wants) a Bob in their lives.

I truly am a Bob. I only use Robert for official documents, checking accounts, business cards, etc. Robert is way too formal for me, too stuffy, and a tad bit pretentious in my mind. I mean take a look... Robert Redford, Robert De Niro, Robert Klein. Don't you think they all, in their own way, take themselves too seriously and self-important? I sometimes worry about comedian Robert Schimmel, someone I find to be very funny. From his life story and on stage comedy act, you can tell he really is a Bob. Why he insists on putting on this false air of being a Robert is beyond me. He needs to admit his Bobness or lose his true identity.

Rob is definitely out too. I could never be a Rob, although I did try the name shift when I moved from Florida to Colorado. I tried growing a mustache too. What the heck was I thinking? Rob's are way too flashy, flamboyant, and otherwise too visible and out front. Rob screams out pay attention to me. Rob Lowe is probably the best known... and look at him. Videotape scandals, nanny scandals, attention grabbing activism and a need to be the leading actor in all of his movie and TV projects. Rob Reiner is really a Robert trying to make himself fit in with rest of the world. Nope, definitely not a Rob.

Bobby is an interesting one. I've "allowed" only two people to ever call me Bobby. One was a young hockey player named Roman Hubalek. When I worked for the West Palm Beach Blaze, a minor league hockey team, Roman was a Czech born player just grasping English as a second language. He was such a nice guy, working hard to assimilate to the U.S. that I didn't have the heart to correct him. The other bestowed Bobby Rights is a woman... a co-worker who became a friend and briefly what could loosely be called a girlfriend. She's an interesting case. We'd spend a lot of time together at work... then we started spending a lot of time together away from work. Funny thing is, it was platonic for the most part. She was in a difficult place and situation; and I was probably the only male at that time that she could trust as a confidant. Our meetings were never called "dates" although dinner or drinks or movies or fill in the blank between a man and woman could technically be a "date." This separation was important to her. One night and a few drinks later two friends out on the town yielded a kiss. The next meeting yielded a few more kisses and some hand roaming. It was an unofficial date on Valentine's Day 1995 when I got the "let's just be friends" speech. I was devastated and to this day still have a bruise that hasn't fully healed. There are plenty of Bobby's out there, my two favorite being Bobby Orr and Bobby Jones. For some reason Bobby always seemed immature to me, although those two were the epitome of class and style. Early on I needed to feel grown up and I guess I never felt you could be an adult taken seriously as a Bobby. It would take a lot to allow someone else to have Bobby Rights. "Elsie" has the potential to be Bobby Worthy.

So that left me Bob. It fits, spells the same forward and backward, and makes for a nifty shorthand signature. But what does it mean to be this Bob in particular? What are some of the characteristics that are the Essence of Bobness?

• Isolation... I can be alone in a crowd of 20,000. I build a great many walls around myself, allowing only a very few people behind them (although some get a glimpse through the cracks)
• Insecurity... I'm not a self-confident person, always finding fault in myself for one thing or the other
• Depression... I live and struggle with this day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour. I quit taking the medication, but through therapy am able to deal with it more effectively
• Intelligence... I'm smart, sharp, and will analyze a situation rationally before reacting
• Genuine... I hate fake people and would never be one. I guess honest would fall under this too.
• Compassion... It pains me to see people disturbed or sad. I feel like I need to help them, sometimes to my own detriment
• Weight... something I've always struggled with. Today I'm tipping the scales at 210 lbs. As a teen/adult I've weighed as little as 160 lbs, as much as 235 lbs. Ideally I'd like to get to my comfort weight of 180-185. This is the second most influential factor in shaping who I am from my formative years
• Emotional... I take things very personally and invest a great deal of energy on people and events. People outside my walls don't see this.
• Introvert... I internalize most of my emotions. This blog is my attempt to start vocalizing some of my thoughts and feelings
• Anger... at myself, at others, at my situation, and sometimes at life in general
• Messy... I am not clean, organized, and definitely don't have all my shit together
• Funny... although sometimes I question whether I truly have humor in my life or it's just an act
• Serious... Ironic that I put this right next to funny, but I do take things serious... sometimes too seriously and I push "fun" aside too easily
• Romantic... the opportunity hasn't arisen much in my life, but I'm a sucker for the whole scene... music, candles, flowers, etc.
• Morality... My morals definitely do not jive with many, but I do have a code of morals and ethics I live by. They can be boiled down to "Do no harm" and "Treat others the way you want to be treated"
• Devotion... to my job, to the few people in my life, to my sports teams
• Chivalrous... I still hold the door open and pull out the chair for a lady. Manners still go a long way for me

I'm sure there is a lot more that goes into the Essence of Bobness. I wouldn't be surprised if you saw Version 2.0 or even Version 3.0 someday on this blog. But that's it for now on a contemplative Sunday morning/afternoon.

A Freak of Nature

I'm not a plant guy. Most plants that have been left under my care reached a premature untimely demise. Honestly it's not that I don't put any effort into them. Some water when they're dry, some sun when I thought they needed it. For whatever reason, I am not blessed with a green thumb. I've even killed plastic plants. For a person who likes to be outside, it is a mystery.

But this little ficus has bucked the odds. When I inherited him in June 2007, I didn't give him much of chance of making it to Labor Day. In an office full of women, I figured eventually one of them would have to take pity on it and nurse it back to health after I plunged it into intensive care. Amazingly, not only has it survived but it has thrived. About 1/3 of the plant you see is new growth. What a trooper!

My not so little buddy is a bit of an inspiration. He's overcome some long odds. Maybe I can too.

Unprompted Advice

WOW... did I get a reminder that I need to practice what I preach last night! I've always resented getting unprompted advice from people. It all stems back to being a child and learning to play golf on my own. I read a lot, took a few lessons along the way, and slowly got better. Well, I'd play along side adults who felt it was their obligation to pass on sage advice to the kid. "Keep your head down" or "Extend your left arm" or some other hot tip they just read in the same magazine I did. What especially fried my ass was that this was coming from people who had never seen me play before in their lives. How can they know my swing after 30 minutes? And who the hell asked for their advice in the first place? Geez, I was already hitting the ball better than they were. Ever since then, I've always resisted the temptation to try and "help" anyone on the golf course. If they ask, I'll watch for a while and try and pick up on something that may help. I don't volunteer golf advice and don't want it either.

Fast forward to last night. "Elsie" got in touch with me for the first time in over a week. Needless to say I was thrilled she hadn't forgotten me and chose to contact me on her own. (There is a little spring in my step today that's been missing... but I'm trying not to go overboard). Anyway, this was a really nice chat... detailing how busy she's been, sorry it's been so long, some laughing, some flirting, etc. At one point she offered a piece of advice... unprompted. Not wanting to ruin the mood, I deftly chose to change the subject and continued on while my mind churned. "Who is she to give that kind of advice? How does she know what's best for me? How dare she?" I was a little fired up. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Rewind the clock and over a week ago I was doing exactly the same thing with her (as detailed here). What must she have been thinking on her side then? Probably the same things I was last night. I felt like such a heel. I had become the annoying golf partner. That was a wake-up call.

My mind has begun to become less clouded lately... a feeling fellow depression suffers fully understand. I probably wouldn't have noticed (or cared) a week ago. I can and will do better on this!

My Life...

Wake up
Make coffee
Do crossword
Drink Coffee
S.S.S.
Drive to work
Work
Drive home
Make Dinner
Eat Dinner
Blog
Sleep
Repeat