So I took a couple of days off last week, and I’ve been in a bit of a slump ever since. Sometimes that means more posts, sometimes less. I don’t know if it has been the inescapable “Welcome to London” weather or my job that brought it on. Maybe it’s a combo of the two. Don’t get me wrong: By no means can I sit here and pretend that my job is bad. It isn’t. I get paid ok, I don’t have to wear a uniform, my co-workers are generally smart and funny, but it’s not like I’m a playboy photographer or race cars for a living, either. After 11 years with the same company, it’s feeling like a walk down a dead end road. It’s a relatively pleasant walk down a tree-lined dead end in a safe suburban neighborhood, but it’s a dead end just the same.

So, I’ve been in one of those funks where I start bouncing my crazy ideas like the drift racing team, the bikini car wash, and other ways to make a million dollars off of my friends. Then, I try to calculate how long I could live work-free on my current savings. Most of the time thinking is done without showering while staring blankly at the walls. And the malaise usually fades away over time like a nagging cold.

And today, something changed.

I threw on a couple of t-shirts and set out for the beach, where the waves were crashing so heavily that they sounded like a busy highway from a quarter of a mile away. And when I got there, I just ran until I was sufficiently worn out. And then, I simply walked home in the rain.

When I got to my mailbox, two things were there. The first put an instant smile on my face. Brian over at www.schuss.net answered the CD challenge all the way from the great state of Washington (one of the few states that I have personally and aimlessly toured in a rent-a-car). Although the world champion distance in the challenge so far has come from the home office in Eskilstuna, Sweden, I think this edges out San Fran for the Continental US distance title.

Thanks, Brian. Way cool of you.

The other thing was a letter containing all the newspaper articles about Chris, my childhood friend, who died back in August. His mom sent them along with a really nice note thanking me for the post I wrote about him. When a mother loses a son, and she thanks you for a small post in some small corner of the internet, you might feel very, very humbled. And when you stop to think that Chris’s sisters and parents live with his death every day, while you sort of dumped your heart into a post and moved on, you might feel like you really don’t deserve the praise.

I can only say that the articles were fucking heart breaking, but had the right effect of making me think: I’m sober, I’m alive, and the small stuff really doesn’t matter.

Thanks, Barbara. I mean it.

Posted in Happy, Music, Philosophical BS, Work