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Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
I probably should have paid better attention to the car in front of me. Instead I ran into it and managed to shatter my radiator grill and my hood.
My emotional state was already tenuous at best. This morning I wanted to kick someone. It is possible that they might total the car. I love that little car. I bought it when I separated from wife ten years ago when my old car exploded on the highway at two in the morning. It might be time for a new car. Maybe something with less than 250k, no coolant and oil leaks, and one without a lit check engine light. I am almost old enough for an expensive convertible with a hot chick in the seat next to me. Just another ten years, a bit more hair loss, and I will be perfect in that car. I might not fit in with the rest of the mid lifers, but if it comes with a car and a girl half my age, I think I can deal with it.
I have been watching old 80s music videos, and I have a theory on why I never fit in anywhere at any time. It may have to do with the fact that I do not have the right hair. I grew up in the age of Tom Cruise hair. My hair looks like someone left a small shrub on top of my head. So far shrub hair has yet to be popular. Curly hair seems to be in style now, but now I am too old. If awkward forty somethings ever become in style, this can only mean that I am fifty.
Work lately has been an exercise in frustration. I don’t have enough motivation to pretend I am motivated. Engineers often use the technical writer position as a kind of put down. They say something like “damn all you are is a glorified tech writer”. Hell I wish I was a glorified tech writer. Instead I am more like the guy they ignore in the corner. I am a glorified house plant. At least they pay me.
I am going to try doing some public posts here and there. It means I may have to be more cryptic, kind of like my future, which is starting to spiral around like a bird that has lost its wing.
One of the reasons why I was unpopular in high school might not of had anything to do with my hair. It might have been because I tried so very hard to be a rock, devoid of emotion. This was because I watched rocks and when life stepped on them, they never said ouch. Life slowly worn them away, but that only made them easier to hold. Rocks were safe. Safe isn’t living though is it. Rocks are dead inside.
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
I probably should have paid better attention to the car in front of me. Instead I ran into it and managed to shatter my radiator grill and my hood.
My emotional state was already tenuous at best. This morning I wanted to kick someone. It is possible that they might total the car. I love that little car. I bought it when I separated from wife ten years ago when my old car exploded on the highway at two in the morning. It might be time for a new car. Maybe something with less than 250k, no coolant and oil leaks, and one without a lit check engine light. I am almost old enough for an expensive convertible with a hot chick in the seat next to me. Just another ten years, a bit more hair loss, and I will be perfect in that car. I might not fit in with the rest of the mid lifers, but if it comes with a car and a girl half my age, I think I can deal with it.
I have been watching old 80s music videos, and I have a theory on why I never fit in anywhere at any time. It may have to do with the fact that I do not have the right hair. I grew up in the age of Tom Cruise hair. My hair looks like someone left a small shrub on top of my head. So far shrub hair has yet to be popular. Curly hair seems to be in style now, but now I am too old. If awkward forty somethings ever become in style, this can only mean that I am fifty.
Work lately has been an exercise in frustration. I don’t have enough motivation to pretend I am motivated. Engineers often use the technical writer position as a kind of put down. They say something like “damn all you are is a glorified tech writer”. Hell I wish I was a glorified tech writer. Instead I am more like the guy they ignore in the corner. I am a glorified house plant. At least they pay me.
I am going to try doing some public posts here and there. It means I may have to be more cryptic, kind of like my future, which is starting to spiral around like a bird that has lost its wing.
One of the reasons why I was unpopular in high school might not of had anything to do with my hair. It might have been because I tried so very hard to be a rock, devoid of emotion. This was because I watched rocks and when life stepped on them, they never said ouch. Life slowly worn them away, but that only made them easier to hold. Rocks were safe. Safe isn’t living though is it. Rocks are dead inside.