July 26th, 2002

self portrait

Wastin' away again...

And me without my salt shaker.

Work is slow again today, but at least it doesn't look like I'll be sent home early. So I should get in enough hours this week.

I'm still not used to this whole hourly pay thing. I got used to salary for 10 years, even when I was and exempt employee and got overtime I never got paid for less than 40 hours a week. (Well, not while I wasn't having time off without pay, at least.) Now I've got a time clock to punch (well, slide the bar-coded card through) each night and morning. Being five minutes late is a big deal and leaving five minutes early is a big deal. Make either of those a half hour and fuggedaboutit.

Strangely, drove in to work today. That had more to do with going out to my friend Bob's for weekly gaming than the weather. Though it did give my gloves and shoes a better chance to dry out before being pressed into service again. If my gloves are still damp this morning, I'll have to find a drier place to hang them up. Maybe near an A/C vent....
  • Current Music
    Perfectly Good Guitar--John Hiatt--Perfectly Good Guitar
self portrait

Dangerous thoughts

Half-formed musings run through my head without finding good outlet. Are things worth saying? Should I say them here, to youse guys? Should I say them "out loud" in a private posting? If I think them is that enough? Is it dangerous to think them? Will saying them at all be hurtful to those I care for?

It's all very vague to me (and to you, gentle reader, I'm sure).

I think I need a confidant. Someone I can talk to about dangerous things. Things that need release but don't necessarily have a purchase on reality. Thoughts without attachment. Ideas one never means to follow through on. Someone without attachment to my family, friends and community. Someone who not only wouldn't but really couldn't let something slip and bring possibility of hurt into the real word as thought touched reality like anitmatter, exploding beyond all intention.

Makes me wish I was Catholic and had a confessor.

I suppose I could look up a mental health professional. Work has a referral network of some sort. I don't think I need fixing, however, and it seems inappropriate to pay (through insurance, sure, but still) for someone to listen to me vent or gripe or just ponder one thing or another. And I think it would take me either a good chunk of time or a good bit of whiskey to trust a stranger enough to open up in that way.

Hmm. I don't know that there are answers to my dilemma. Or, again, that it needs resolution, really. I've always had thoughts like these, I suppose, sometimes more, sometimes fewer but always a dark thought or two bouncing around whispering in an ear, promising something or warning of something that, when exposed to the light of logic or the stillness of deeper thought, proves to be unfounded or not aligned with my strongest wishes.

Here's a thought that might help me exorcise my inner demons. Given that some of you reading know me to one degree or another: What is the worst thing you think I'd be capable of doing?
  • Current Music
    Favorite Thing--The Replacements--Let It Be