The handwriting not on the wall

Because Leah tagged me...

Overserved

overserved: an individual who has had waaaaay too much to drink... transferring the responsibility for this drunkenness from the individual to the bartender. "Q"... you were really overserved last night.

I'm still making my way around the Internet... if I haven't gotten to your blog yet give me some time. Anyway, I'm back at the Abode of Bobness after four days at a conference in Boston. Of course, I returned to a shit storm at work but coped with it through my extreme exhaustion. Yes, these conference things are work, but I won't misguide you and give the illusion that it is all work.

Each day turned into night which turned into late night/early morning catching up with friends from around the country. From quiet coffee and conversations to four course client dinners to midnight cruises on Boston Harbor, it was a whirlwind that lasted many hours but not enough days. About the only thing I was expecting to do that didn't quite happen was a trip to Fenway Park for a Red Sox game. At least they won 3 of 4 games while I was there, even if I didn't get to go.

I made some new acquaintances that may become friends, helped out a damsel in distress that had her purse stolen, made some contacts that may help in the job search, was rudely awaken by a random false fire alarm, and took on some added responsibilities within a trade organization. I even learned a new term... overserved. It was refreshing, although tiring, being around a group of people I like, respect, and who have an appreciation for me. It boosts my spirits being around professionals, and makes me yearn to get "back in the game" with these people and escape my current exile. I laughed, I thought, I reminisced, I had a few too many drinks, and left with a renewed hope that there are people working behind the scenes on my behalf.

Overall... some good times with good people with good intentions. A welcome change from my current situation. I can't wait to take all of you with me when I join them back in the real world for more than four short days.

Theme Thursday - Shoe

There was an old woman
who lived in a shoe
her 401k disappeared
and she got foreclosed too

The stock market did fall
a most perilous drop
Soon she moved into
a worn out old flip-flop

This sandal had seen
much better days
There were holes in the straps
that let through sun rays

She had two dear children
with no place to go
Their school was closed down
The state had no cash flow

So the kids did stay home
and played in the yard
They watched over the sandal
Their home they did guard

Down to her last dollar
the Old Woman did get
A crisp lottery ticket
her lucky numbers she bet

When the balls took a tumble
the Old Woman had won
Sixteen million dollars
would bring them great fun

As she raced to the capital
her anticipation grew
Then Governor Arnold
gave her a state IOU

So she traveled back home
to her meager flip-flop
No money for food
She couldn't even shop

The moral of the story
is what can burn ya
when you live in this state
Welcome to California

For Suzanne

For Suzanne... here is the full size photo. Ignore the thinning/balding spot on the right.

I'm Shipping Up To Boston

Be back in about a week... be nice to each other while I'm gone.

The Dropkick Murphy's

Stages of Life

Stages are my life. They have been for a very long time, ever since I got into my current profession as a young adult. Sometimes the stages look like this.


They bring the world's most popular musicians, actors, actresses, comedians, speakers, and performers up close and personal. They bring a cast of characters like Big Bird, Barney, and Mickey Mouse to life for children to enjoy and learn valuable life lessons. They bring local and national politicians to the public, convincing us to vote for them or informing us of what they are doing for us. They are altars for clergy-persons of all faiths and denominations celebrating high holidays and mourning the loss of influential people like politicians and celebrities.


Sometimes the stage looks like this. They feature the beauty and artistry of ice dancers and figure skaters. They bring together a school or community to rally around the home hockey team against their rivals. They dazzle us with fastest and most athletic skaters in the world playing the sports they love the most, sometimes just for fun and sometimes for profit.


Sometimes the stage looks like this. Giants in life running, jumping, shooting and rebounding... bringing a roomful of people out of their seats and on their feet with their sheer wizardry and skills. Dramatic blocked shots, thunderous dunks, and buzzer beating three points shots are the center of attention on these stages.


Sometimes the stage looks like this. The theatrics of muscle bound wrestlers playing out modern day drama plays happen here. The sweet science of boxing and the newly popular melding of mixed martial arts into ultimate fighting take place in the squared circle.

The ironic part of it all is that although my career relies on stages, I would rather not be on stage. I can build a stage and book the entertainment to be on it. I can advertise the shows, and sell the tickets for people to come and watch them. I can park their cars when they arrive, and feed them their favorite snacks. I can keep them safe and comfortable. About the only thing I can't do is entertain them. The stages in my life are for others to occupy. Being behind the scenes is fine for me... thank you very much.

Paradox

I get very torn at times. This is the view outside my window this sunny Sunday afternoon. The mobile home has been parked in the same place for at least two weeks, possibly more as I haven't kept track. I truly do feel sorry for this couple. I have no idea how they came to be in this circumstance, but living your life out of an old travel trailer begging for money is tragic. It hurts me that people have to live this way, seeking the charity of others to eek out the most basic of existences. The other morning he was actually outside sweeping the sidewalk near the trailer like it had become his own backyard. It was so sad.

Then, on the other hand, I don't want this thing parked in front of my home. I don't want people panhandling and begging right outside my very window. A public street it not a mobile home park. What kind of neighborhood is this becoming if this is allowed to continue? What if other wanderers hear about this and bring in their campers? Recently the windshield had one of those bright neon orange stickers on it, so the police are aware of its presence. Why don't they do anything about it? There has to be some sort of zoning laws or codes that prohibit people from just wheeling up one day and setting up camp in a residential neighborhood.

So there lies the paradox. I have pity for these people, but I don't want them here. Do I not say anything as they try to survive, or report them to the police to get them out of the neighborhood? I wish people didn't have to live like this, but I also wish they had not picked my block to do it. Should I be selfish, or selfless?

No time to cry

I didn't get the job I had been hoping to get. I found out today that they have selected another candidate. To say I'm disappointed would be an understatement. To say I'm devastated would be fairly close to the way I feel right now. It was the PERFECT job for me. I would have gotten to return to doing what I'm trained to do and what I enjoy. It would have been in Denver... and I love Colorado. For the past 10 years since I left Colorado Springs I've always said that if I had the chance to get back to the Rocky Mountain state that I would. Get this... the best part of the job would have been that I had no staff. That's right, no personnel issues to deal with because I would have been just another indian and not a chief. Can you imagine finding a job that lets you do what you love to do, in a place that you love to live, and you get to discard the most troublesome part of your life? It was the PERFECT job. Now, can you imagine how it feels not getting the PERFECT job?

The folks in Denver have been great. From all of my interactions with them, they have been first class and professional in every aspect. They are a tremendous group of people and whomever the candidate to work with them is he/she will be very lucky. The selection committee did take the time to point out that they were impressed with my presentation and interview with them in June. Apparently not impressed enough. I honestly don't know what to do next. I obviously can't afford to quit where I am at now, even if it is killing me at a rapidly increasing rate. But there's no time to cry. No time for my standard depression driven pity party for weeks. It's time to move onto the next opportunity, with a resume in at Nevada-Reno for a similar type position. It's not the perfect job, but closer to what will help to make me happier.

Time marches on, and someone got their perfect job today. Maybe I spent too much time daydreaming about how tremendous this was going to be. Maybe I set myself up for a bigger disappointment and heartache than I needed to. I know that vision of a better life was getting me through some trying times this past month. I don't know what to do next. I don't know how to ward off the dark thoughts that will creep in to occupy the place of the idyllic vision. But I'll try, because there's no time to cry.

Still open, kinda

I haven't been a very good or enthusiastic blogger lately. I'm not really sure what's going on, but obviously it's not exciting enough to put into words for the world to read. For the 10 faithful readers over the past week, you certainly are a dedicated group.

Someday something will happen that you'll want to read about. It could be later tonight, this weekend, next week or next month... I don't really know. I'm reading your blogs, and commenting on most. I'm alive... just treading water, keeping my head above the waves.

By the way, just after noon today it was 12:34:56 on 07/08/09.

Hi Megan... Hi Blottie... Hi Leah... Hi Kylie... Hi Cece... Hi Karen... Hi RC... Hi Merelyme... Hi Annie

All American Weekend

Home Made Garlic Hot Wings

Firecracker 400 from Daytona

Cold Miller Lite

Fireworks from my patio

Giants vs. Astros on Sunday

That's what I call an All-American Weekend