Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery August 1, 2008

and I can’t fit into my friggin’ backpack.

I didn’t want to be lugging 100 pounds on my back…but maybe the pendulum has swung too far in other direction? I have spent entirely too long battling the bag – to no avail – and I still have yet to work it out. Literally 29 hours until I’m at the airport…

The Short Story July 31, 2008

Okay. I’m working on about three hours of sleep here. I’m one of those people that is zombified on five hours sleep and more or less comatose with less. How does Donald Trump do it!?!??! Is that why he thinks that hairdo is in any way acceptable??? Anyway, in order to minimize the wacko punctuation, spelling, and irrational digressions, let’s just drill down to the hard facts:

1. Meeting some dude a solid forty minute drive (each way!) from my house at 8:00 in the morning to turn in my company car, computer, and phone. Awkward.

2. Boss NEVER called me. NADA. Not an e-mail, a text, a postcard, an IM, a smoke signal, or an ESP message. Zero. Zilch. Dick.

3. Grappling with inner monologues such as, “Why do I feel I need to take a 13-week trip? How come everyone else is so satisfied where they are? It would be nice to just sit around and do nothing. What is WRONG with me? It won’t be summer when I get back. I love summer. Was that my exit?”

4. Got some insane idea to start a companion blog. It’s Patton Oswalt’s fault. And Lewis Black. It’s called “Random Thoughts From a Disorganized Douche Bag.” I know, I know.  I’m not from Long Island. What do I know about being a douche bag (or baguette)? It’s got ‘bad idea’ written all over it…

5. Tomorrow is the big pack. If I get enough sleep to remember and am thinking straight, I’ll make my first video for you. That’s right. Try to hold it together: A VIDEO OF SOMEONE PACKING!!! I think I hear the porn industry grinding to a halt…

Some days I realize this may be a bad idea June 12, 2008

LATE-BREAKING NEWS: The backpack has arrived! First impressions

• LOVE the color
• It is small. So very, very small.
• It scrunches my boobs a bit
• It’s a very nice bag – high quality. NOTHING like last time. Although that delightful Army Navy store bag is long gone, I can still remember its aluminum external frame and cheap green baggage compartment. Oh, the times and the backaches we shared!
• Flashing back sixteen years, how the hell did I manage to carry a tent, a sleeping bag, a sleep sheet, books, clothes, several worthless things I never once used (like those pills to make poisonous water drinkable. That’s a bad idea if I ever heard one), and personal effects enough for seven months!?!?

I’m feeling a little bit deflated at the sight of its smallness, so I think I’m going to procrastinate the official “trial pack” for a few days. I think the next step is to get all the clothing and shoes and other things I want to bring into one pile. Then divide it in half.

Then scrutinize and  ultimately slim by another third…and take that third. From there, it’s “project overload”: force, squeeze, roll, twist, crunch, and cram.  After the seams are breaking, and there is nary room for another atom, it’s off to get on a scale with the whole mess to make sure I’m not trying to carry more than a third of my body weight. Feeling ever dubious about the whole thing…

Speaking of which, I woke up this morning and had an idea as to how to open this paper I need to write for work. I was kind of buoyed by that since I’ve been procrastinating my @ss of on some of these writing projects. (IHMJ) Then I noticed it looked like it might be a sunny day outside (an illusion, as usual), when this overwhelming feeling of WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS (meaning planning to take an unpaid leave and/or quit my job and backpack Europe by myself for thirteen weeks) came over me, and I felt like crap. And then I thought about this blog, and sure, it’s only been a week, but I can’t help but notice that I am essentially keeping a secret diary. Hell, I may as well start confessing some embarrassing sh*t, because no one will read it!!!!!!

I log into WordPress and the crickets start chirping…   Despair.com sells these t-shirts, “More people have read this t-shirt than my blog,” and if weren’t the equivalent of a post-it with the word “loser” on my own back, I might get one. But this too shall pass!

Moreover, since I seem to need to constantly remind myself, the reason I’m doing this all is because the job is not what I *really* want to do with my life – not even close. Things are not working out, and I feel really futile and even kind of useless. Moreover, even if they were going along swimmingly, I suspect that would serve only to mask my calling to more creative and fulfilling pursuits. As it is, I’ve already blown through my twenties and now half my thirties without listening to or heeding the siren song.

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll share with you THE BIG DREAM so that all this wavering and push and pull and moments of self-doubt become a little more clear or a little more pitiful. Whatever.