I’m in a strange place right now. There should be different roads and avenues for me to take yet I feel trapped in a tunnel between two ways of solving an issue at home that gnaws at me like a pesky gnat while enjoying a beer soaked brat on the porch during a hot summer day with a little breeze coming through.
What do you do when you’ve beaten a subject to death, and then throw it into a microwave for good measure? Yet it comes back up like undercooked pork leaving a raw taste in your mouth and gasping for someway to feel whole again after praying to the porcelain gods. I have no words for the emotions I have gone through in the last two weeks due to my sudden entry into mainstream life again. No longer do I require an army of friends and family to shuttle my handi-capable ass around like Lieutenant Dan needing to procure more shrimp. There’s one less logistical reason for me not to grab that piece of paper from a scholarly institution to advance my career at work (if I choose to do so, but at the moment I enjoy my job).
How do you look at the love of your life knowing that something is being held back yet cannot explain it? It tortures me that the effort is there but the actions are not. Do I press that small pair in middle position with five big blinds left on the bubble? Sorry for the poker analogy but being that this was once a poker blog and that I play once in a while still, a little card tangent seemed fitting.
I do not love my life any less, but yet feel a piece of the puzzle is missing. There’s a want out there with no name (cue “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly” theme song and a dusty Clint Eastwood with a hand rolled smoke hanging on the side of his mouth, strolling into town to kick ass). Seriously I’m fucked in the head right now and Vegas didn’t alleviate mental ping-pong that has been going on for a while. If only life were as easy as a Jimmy Buffett song maybe I wouldn’t be pecking away at these keys wondering why I didn’t even touch the computer last night due to apathy towards my favorite hobby.
Ok, I’m going to end this self-gazing before I rip too heavily into Sidney “Cream Puff” Ponson for his stellar batting practice performance last night on the hill. A hint to the hockey haired, sumo wrestling gutted hurler… throwing looping change-ups over the middle of the plate will get hit hard. Chew on that next time you’re thinking about blaming the hen-pecked fielders (for one error) that had to deal with the lasers coming off those over-priced Yankee bats.
Thanks for dropping by, now I promise to make it to the next bloggerchallenge.com MOOOOOOOOOkie tourney and retain my poker playing blogger card.
What do you do when you’ve beaten a subject to death, and then throw it into a microwave for good measure? Yet it comes back up like undercooked pork leaving a raw taste in your mouth and gasping for someway to feel whole again after praying to the porcelain gods. I have no words for the emotions I have gone through in the last two weeks due to my sudden entry into mainstream life again. No longer do I require an army of friends and family to shuttle my handi-capable ass around like Lieutenant Dan needing to procure more shrimp. There’s one less logistical reason for me not to grab that piece of paper from a scholarly institution to advance my career at work (if I choose to do so, but at the moment I enjoy my job).
How do you look at the love of your life knowing that something is being held back yet cannot explain it? It tortures me that the effort is there but the actions are not. Do I press that small pair in middle position with five big blinds left on the bubble? Sorry for the poker analogy but being that this was once a poker blog and that I play once in a while still, a little card tangent seemed fitting.
I do not love my life any less, but yet feel a piece of the puzzle is missing. There’s a want out there with no name (cue “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly” theme song and a dusty Clint Eastwood with a hand rolled smoke hanging on the side of his mouth, strolling into town to kick ass). Seriously I’m fucked in the head right now and Vegas didn’t alleviate mental ping-pong that has been going on for a while. If only life were as easy as a Jimmy Buffett song maybe I wouldn’t be pecking away at these keys wondering why I didn’t even touch the computer last night due to apathy towards my favorite hobby.
Ok, I’m going to end this self-gazing before I rip too heavily into Sidney “Cream Puff” Ponson for his stellar batting practice performance last night on the hill. A hint to the hockey haired, sumo wrestling gutted hurler… throwing looping change-ups over the middle of the plate will get hit hard. Chew on that next time you’re thinking about blaming the hen-pecked fielders (for one error) that had to deal with the lasers coming off those over-priced Yankee bats.
Thanks for dropping by, now I promise to make it to the next bloggerchallenge.com MOOOOOOOOOkie tourney and retain my poker playing blogger card.
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