omfg i found it

 life is an odd thing. we are born and know nothing. we don't know that we know nothing and are totally cool with that fact. as pre-humans, we learn by default. how to eat, what mom smells like, not to eat our fingers, that we can't taste our toes, and how to crawl. 

we explore the world around us, increasingly so as our capabilities increase. 

i don't really know when i first realized i was a person or gained consciousness. i suppose it was when i was born but early life is really pretty fuzzy some 43 years and change later. we are fed what people think we should eat or what they want us to eat. we do what people make us to and later, what we are told to do. 

we enter school and are funneled through a lazily organized sequence of bored instruction delivered by largely unattentive, paid drones. they care for us, mostly make sure we are fed, clothed, and awake and emerge out the other end of the experience with a stamp of approval that says something to the tune of "yep, this one was conscious and can at least flip burgers as a productive member of society."

we're taught to be on autopilot for a dozen years or more depending on one's tolerance for rote instruction. paying more for education likely translates to a better outcome or maybe just a feeling of entitlement. either way, we're not really fully formed until 25 or maybe even 30. it's a strange process. 

the creation of mandatory formal schooling surely had good intentions but at scale, often withers and delivers underwhelming results. i'm definitely underwhelmed at myself and have been for most of my life.

after schooling, we frantically cast our net around us, much like pre-walking babies casting their arms out in search of something new to shove into their mouths but in our new adult-sized bodies, we are now in search of jobs. in reality, all we want to do is procreate without result and party, but all of that requires money. we are the primate in the jungle banging on our chests. instead of chest hair and exposed ball sacks, we instead show off our fancy cars, nice clothes, and gym-shaped bodies. 

unlike the monkey in the jungle, our cars, clothes, abs, and overpriced dinners serve very little functional purpose. 

we slog through and get jobs. we advance on merit, tenure, or on the coat tails of relationships we've cultivated and life goes on. decades perhaps. it does fly. we don't really know why we're doing it, but we're told to move up, find a job at a reputable company people can brag about and to just keep our head down and plow forward. up and up, young one. 

add a wife, a few kids, a house, dog, and all the thanksgiving trimmings and now you're fully locked into the game.

decades later.

time passes. 

retirement becomes the topic of discussion but it is yet again a dead end road. we live to work to save to not work to die. what a shakesperian tragedy. 

the magic is in the story

we get to write our own story

rewind the story of your life and take up the pen

whatever stage you find yourself in, it is yours

this one thing

this brain, body, feet, shoes, and clothes

none of it matters

we all end up in the dirt

we all end up dirt

its just the way of it

enough longing

enough wanting, hoping, wishing

time for action

now

go

Project: Rebuild Your Life

The last 2 weeks and change have been crazy...and it all started with a text message. My brother in law Zach pinged me about the Thomas Fire which all other sources said was just a small thing north of Santa Paula. He said that it was moving fast and might even be passing his house in East Ventura. I went out and lookup up at the sky and saw all that I needed to know - smoke billowing down out of the north and being pushed right over the top of our house.

I cautiously split our emergency kit gear between our two cars and prepped them to be loaded up. Another glance upwards a few minutes later showed that the situation wasn't getting better and with the gusting winds picking up, was bound to get worse. I went up and woke Sokny up to get her up to speed on the situation and as the sleep worked its way out of her eyes, she started to pack up some of her things as well.

We had the kids sleeping in the living room for a sleepover with daddy that night which put them in the best spot possible to be staged for easy loading into the car. The power begun to cut out...then on...then out...taking our already spotty internet up and down with it. A few more glances up at the sky made it clear that it was likely we would have to leave so we started packing up some things for the kids, clothes and some key electronics.

As the power continued to flutter on and off, I handed out flashlights and staged battery powered lights around the house to allow us to continue our preparations without having to stumble around more than necessary. I shared with Sokny that we needed to be 5-minute ready...ready to leave with 5 minutes notice which was barely enough time to get the kids in the car and go.

That point came sooner than either of us expected as the next check outside revealed a strong orange glow emanating from a point just over the ridge to the north east of our housing tract. I quickly ran across the street in my socks to wake our neighbors with 4 kids at the same time noting that most of the neighborhood was completely devoid of activity, with only a handful of lights visible from other souls who had been alerted to the proximity of the fire...or perhaps just responding to the lack of power in the area.

As the orange glow brightened even more, we carefully loaded the kids into the car with their backpacks, blankets and pokemon cards to keep them company. They didn't have a chance to pick out anything to bring but as a consolation, they didn't have to experience the tense rush out of the house consciously.

The power was out so after we backed out of the garage, I disconnected the connection to the automatic door opener and eased the door down into place, which thunked down with all the finality of a tombstone. We eased down the street, into the flow of a handful of early adopters who similarly feared what the later hours of the night might bring to our homes.

It dawned on me that many of our neighbors had not been alerted to what seemed to be imminent danger so I cautiously gave the horn a few honks wondering if when the morning came, I would be remembered as the village idiot or the town hero. As we rounded another dark corner, I sounded the horn a few more times with a bit more confidence. As we went down the final stretch of the neighborhood, I was at full confidence, sounding the horn to alert any and all who dared sleep that something was amiss in the hopes that they would realize what was coming over the hill to consume the beds in which they now slept.

We evacuated to my parent's house just a few minutes down the hill and set the kids up for what seemed like a fun sleepover with the grandparents. Sokny and I wouldn't find much sleep that night, with the police scanner reminding us of the rush of activity to and from our neighborhood and those near us on the hills of Ventura.

As the night wound down, the winds continued to stoke the fire. At its peak, the fire moved as quick as 200' per second, carried on winds gusting at up to 80 miles per hour. From my parent's house, we could see the fire dancing across the hills, making them seem like a playground for a fire-breathing dragon. It was a tense night as we attempted to decipher cryptic calls to remote fire teams to various 'blocks' around town.

At 3am, our bodies gave out and we succumbed to sleep, waking just a few short hours - that would be easier quantified in minutes - later to more of the same. The fires continued, with the daylight only serving to remove

<unfinished>

April still feels like march

I don't really understand the inner workings of my mind. For the last 2 years, my brain has felt full, slow, overwhelmed and warm. Like someone squeezed a pack of handwarmers and set it in there under my brain...it's just too much.

First, the cancer. When I first found out I had cancer, it was so fast...from diagnosis to the right radical orchiotomy (removal of a testicle) that it was essentially a non-issue.

When it came back a few months later, I was excited because it meant time off work...and that should have been way more of a trigger than it was at the time. It was a relief that I didn't have to continue in the hell that work had become. Working 14 hours + per day as many days/week as I could fit in. So stressed out that I couldn't sleep more than a few hours per night which only made it that much worse.

Neither brains or bodies function well without enough sleep. The cancer coming back meant I had to undergo chemotherapy...I think it was a BEP cocktail bleomycin, etopside and cisplatin and boy was that gnarly stuff. It took all my energy away and made me feel sick. Truthfully, I was spared most of the terrible symptoms associated with chemo but it still wasn't much fun. I did have fun cracking jokes at people who instantly become overly sensitive about everything because chemo is awkward. I'm the same person...but my body has been poisoned...by doctors...on purpose...over and over and over for 9 weeks.

But yeah, I was happy for it. I gleefully drove out of the P&G Oxnard plant the day before chemo, absolutely stoked and feeling free as a bird. It was only supposed to be 9 weeks...then extended to 12 with a few weeks for recovery, but it felt amazing. To be honest, if I had to pick between staying at P&G in that role with that leadership team or chemo, I'd take chemo any day. It saved my life...and not just from cancer.

Before I was forced to take time off, the stress, the insanity of how much they put on me without any support felt normal. It sucked, yes...but it felt normal. Leaving for 2 months...3 months and what ultimately was 6 months was the best thing that ever happened because it was a long enough break that it showed me what life without stress was like. I wasn't as stressed about the cancer as I was about work. With cancer...through chemo and later, surgery, I was able to sleep fine. I was able to breathe fine without feeling like I had a bag of cement on my chest.

In the middle of chemo, I became sick and had a chest xray to check on that...and they found that the tumors in my lungs had not changed in size at all. Because I had a 'mixed' cancer, it was likely that it was going to require chemo and surgery to remove as half of the cancer responds to the chemo and half wouldn't. The lumps in my chest were the non-responsive type and required surgery.

Thankfully, all 3 tumors were in the lower lobe of my right lung which was removed (right lower lobectomy) at the skillfull hand of a da vinci robot, controlled by the leading surgeon in the field in Santa Monica, California. We were excited that the robotic surgery was an option as the alternative was to cut open an incision between two ribs and spread me open, making a larger scar, and required a longer time to heal.

The surgery wasn't stressful except for the hour or so leading up to it. Moving into the operating room was freaky and I definitely could have used some anti-anxiety medication but I went to sleep and woke up with stitches and a tube coming out of my lung. The details aren't important but suffice it to say that it went as planned and I was back up and at 'em in no time.

I returned to work a few months later and that's when it really hit home. Immediately, P&G resumed dumping work on me and the stress came back within a matter of days. It was as if I was watching the whole thing on TV. The amount of stress they put on each other and accepted there was comical. I had a hard time taking it seriously because it was just so absurd. Not so much because of what the work was but because of how they treated it.

Work is work and I have never had a hard time doing work...hard, dirty, long...whatever. Get it done and get on with it. But the way the leadership treated the rest of the staff there was embarrassing. That wasn't the company I grew up in or the kind of company I wanted to work for. I pushed back a bit as change only happens when people with vision drive the change and see it through to completion but I simply did not have the energy...physically or otherwise...to do that and I knew it.

The residual effects of the chemo would last nearly 2 years before I felt normal again and I was still in the very early stages of that process. Within 2 weeks of returning to work, it was clear that it wasn't going to be long term for me...even after spending more than 17 years with P&G. It blew my mind but I've never been one to linger or reminisce once a decision has been made.

I started lining up options and paving the road out of P&G. I was back at P&G just over 2 months before I put in my notice and left the company on April 27th, 2017.

With all that has transpired, my brain has changed. It feels like aging but I'm not willing to accept it. I attribute it to part chemical thrashing from the chemo. I'm not clear on how much of that is long term damage and how much is short term damage...or if this is even a factor. I don't think the much hyped detoxes actually do anything though it may be worth a shot.

Another part of this is just the sheer volume of stress crap that I've piled on over the last few years with the first round of cancer in 2015, the second round of cancer in 2016-17 including chemo and surgery, quitting P&G, the fire burning our house, moving, rebuilding...or something else? Relationship stress? Dunno. Life is crazy. I wish it came with a manual...but it would probably be wrong anyways...or I wouldn't read it :)

Sorting all of this out...maybe a blog or introspective journal is the right format, maybe not. I suppose it helps to talk through it with myself which is what I liken this to. Perhaps even better would be a therapist that knew the questions to ask, the pain points to look for and the roads leading outward and upward from it. It's not pain so much as it is just clutter in my head. It would be nice if I had a pressure release valve or lever I could pull to purge the buildup from my head.

I'm leaning into Tim Ferriss' books and podcasts for sharp lessons and poignant observations into life, functionality and effectiveness for clarity. Some of his stuff is great. Most is mediocre. That's life. Most of it is mediocre. Some of it is great...and that's ok. It's more likely that the mediocre stuff of his just isn't relevant or as relevant to me at this point in my life. Maybe that will change. Maybe it won't and that's ok, too.

I think daily journaling and some form of meditation would be helpful. Maybe I need to start taking my phone into the sauna after working out to listen to podcasts while I steam. That's another Tim thing...something about raising the core temp of the body after a workout to help it heal and minimize soreness after tough workouts. I'm leaning into daily protein shakes to minimize the muscle loss that seems to be eating away at my physique. Not sure why physique matters...I just want to be highly functional both at the mental and physical levels. Not so much to climb a mountain or run a marathon...but to hike what I want to hike, when I want to hike it. 

The Beauty of the Burn

Fire brings destruction but it also brings heat, warmth, cooked food and cleansing. When the Thomas Fire consumed our family home the morning of December 5th, 2017, we were shocked. We evacuated knowing that it was the safe thing to do but had no way of knowing that we would be back a few short hours later to find little more than a pile of rubble where our home, hot tub and comfy couches had been.

Losing our things was rough at first. It fuzzed up our heads, leaving us confused and overwhelmed. Did we really just lose our home? Are all our things really gone? It took a few days but when that reality set in, it was like a weight dropped onto our backs. So much work to do to find a place to stay, figure out what we would do for food, snacks, underwear and slacks and that was only the beginning.

No tools, laptop chargers, stickers or beds for our boys. It wasn't so much an emotional journey but a stark confrontation with the magnitude of the task at hand. We were together and left an hour or so before the mandatory evacuation so we were all physically safe and healthy which was by far the biggest blessing from the entire experience.

As we sorted through random donations and ran errands for hours on end, the tables turned. We encountered an entire community that had faced the Thomas Fire together. Our entire community stayed up all night watching as it danced around the hillsides, at times moving as fast as one acre per second, buffeted by 80 mile-per-hour winds that carried ash in overhead rivers of fire.

We discovered beauty in the ashes. Not of our home...as not much was left there...but the ashes spread around our community. As friends and family rinsed the ash off of their cars and homes, they were compelled to pour out onto those who, like us, lost everything. We were humbled by the outpouring of support from family and friends

<unfinished>

When inspiration hits...

When inspiration hits, grab on and don’t let go. Open up the tap and let it flow. Find an outlet and let it out. These ideas, inspiration, energy is a response. It can be conscious, subconscious, internal or external but it comes for a reason. They only visit for a season. A few minutes, a week, several months and when it is gone, it is gone. Nurture it as you would a delicate flower. Tenderly, fleshing out the stem and petals then touching on the nuances. Texture of the petals. The glint of light off of the stem at this angle but not that. The nuances of color. The temperature of the stem. The delicate look of the petals. The graduation of color from the center of the flower to the outside. The bright pop of yellow from the stamen. The delicate dusting of pollen. The lure that makes one question what lies at the center, down the delicate yellow brick road into the center of the flower where the nectar is pooled.

These variables and this inspiration is fleeting. It is one of the more fragile things in life that we are blessed with experiencing and it must be honored or it will be lost. We are taught to hide this. Not overtly but in the subtle nuances of culture that affect us. It is taboo to react to music with our bodies. We should not react because it is weird. We should not express ideas that are contrary to the popular opinions or the thoughts of the experts. The truth is…that it is only the rebels, those bold enough to hold onto the faint flame of inspiration, that are willing to throw their bodies in front of the winds of the popular to protect the glimmer and use everything they are to nurture the idea, to feed it, to create a culture that values inspiration and provides fertile ground for them to sprout, to burst into flames.

Ideas are one of the only powers we are gifted with at birth that have the potential to drive massive change in the world. It is not intelligence or effort, but inspiration. Inspiration followed by intense, intentional perspiration to see them through to fruition. At that point, they must be validated. Not every inspiration will go somewhere productive and that is ok. We must first recognize inspiration and learn to nurture them…

Step Next is the vetting process. The idea is now more robust. It is a small campfire that can sustain itself. We have champions around us that see the idea for what it is and eagerly seek to vet out its merit. As idea factories ourselves, we must recognize and persevere through less than stellar receptions. We must boldly hold our own and push through to develop a vetting process that embraces and values the things we hold most dear. The reason for “our” existence. As an individual, as a company, as a church body, as a non-profit, activist organization, team or couple. The values we intentionally embrace are the only things we have to stand against everything we do not intentionally embrace or turn away.

Life is fragile. Ideas, more so.

Turn that music up. Dance to your own beat. Tell the world to fuck off. Be inspired. Dream bigger. Partner up with other dreamers. Dreamers unencumbered by should and should nots, emboldened by rebel peers and world changers. FUCK THAT.

Journey into the unknown

With so much of the world being mapped, explored and paved, the truly unknown regions of our lives are largely non-existent...externally speaking. The true mystery in life now lies within. Our minds represent vast unexplored regions of life, unavailable and inaccessible to anyone but us. It is as though we are lost inside of our very own amazon jungle, left alone to explore - or not - the vast expanses of wilderness.

When life stresses us out, worries us, causes us to fear or to get excited, we only see the surface of one piece of that jungle. We experience the rises and falls but are blind to the underlying cause of happiness. Why do we react that way? Why does the thing that makes me cry cause no reaction from the person next to me? Why do I get excited about cars driving through the desert when my kids only get excited about Pokemon?

Life on the inside - no, not prison - is a mystery. Do we explore it? Do we simply live life in reactive mode with no true understanding of the why that triggers our surface emotions, reactions and actions? For the most part, the answer to these questions is the same - humans have historically not explored the inside because life on the outside - "in the real world" - demanded too much of our physical and mental energy to truly penetrate our motivations.

Yes, there have been some exceptions to that but by and large, we have only had capacity to react. To experience. To be boggled by our own actions and reactions that are rooted far deeper and broader than we could possibly imagine.

So when I say I was stressed, lay that thin layer of reaction out on top of the vast unknown of my mind if you please and understand that I am all too aware that the reaction is not completely logical or rational but that it stems from something deeper. Those reactions are important. Listen to your gut, they say. I just knew, he said. It felt right, I was afraid...the list goes on. For me, it was stress.

Stress manifested itself in many forms. When I went back to work, I rather immediately felt the weight of stress on me. It was as if a constrictor went to work on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. At first it would be when I logged into my email then it backed its way out to the entrance to my office area then to the gate. Eventually, it would find me on the freeway heading to work then to home then into my sleep which it would ultimately consume. The constrictor became an ever present component of life.

It knew no weekdays or weekends, it simply was. Then it started pulling tighter and tighter. It made my head throb. The lack of sleep it caused encouraged a closer friendship with the coffee machine at work. The coffee machine introduced me to the restroom on a more regular basis where each glance into the mirror reminded me just how tired I was, sending me back to the coffee machine.

Stress is a vampire. It leeches the life out of even the most persistent forces. It pilfers our passions, tosses them to the curb and into the gutter, to be trampled on by passers by. It consumes our energy, our wit, our passion, our drive, our logic. It is also extremely persistent.

Stacking stress on top of a physical constitution that was not fully restored made for a very challenging day and week at work. Studies show that when stressed, we make worse decisions. Worse decisions with regards to food, financial, work and social aspects of life only compound on each other, creating a vicious cycle that feeds on itself. I eat more to help me feel better about the stress then I gain weight. The extra weight takes away more energy throughout the day and on and on the cycle goes. Stress, to steal a phrase from one of my favorite movies, is the mind killer (except it was fear in that scenario).

Compounding all of those factors is the high bar I had set for myself. Perhaps more accurately, a high bar that my supervisor had set for me. I was aligned to it. It was stretching and I wanted to stretch. Not stretching encourages complacency, a lifestyle I abhorred...but at the time, I simply did not have the capacity to do the work, let alone do it well. Obviously, not doing well does not improve the situation, nor does it reduce stress. It stacks. As do many (most?) other areas of life. The bastions of love, peace, support in life begin to dwindle as the castle walls crumble.

The natural response is to curl up. To tuck up and to protect oneself. I suppose I went through that phase though I honestly don't recall it. I soothed myself with humor and made light of the situation. I was in disbelief that people could actually live in conditions so clearly unhealthy and toxic. Perhaps not so much that they could live in those conditions but that they would continue to live in them. I am not a rebel but I found that when pressed with certain forces, I do not lie down. I rebel. I bite. I snap my head back and frolick about. Frolick sounds playful but in this case, it was a violent, intentional action. Wreckless on the outside, its intent was to break the hold of that which constrained. Bruises were incurred. Some mine, some for others. Life is messy.

Fuck.

Thinking back on this time is not pleasant. Wine, please. Jack into the headphones. Music is a solace in times of distress, times of blank emotion, times of rage. It comforts, it soothes. Music is one of the most therapeutic, shaping, tuning, intense forces on the planet. Find what soothes you. Find what evokes an emotional response and feel it out. No, I'm not talking about her. It's the things. It's the whats and the whys not the whos.

Within music, there are different flavors, different textures, different emotions and concoctions. Each plays differently at different times in our lives. Some music is morning music, gently ushering in the day or lighting the fuse that will carry us out into the world with a bang. Some brings us down and smooths over our rough edges. Oh, we do have rough edges. Make no mistake about that.

Two long pulls of wine, 5 minutes and 4 and a half minutes of resonant piano and I'm back off the edge. No, not the edge of life but the edge of emotion. We react to that which rises to the surface. Again, life is an intense balance of evoking and rolling in the sheets with the violent emotions we are tuned to react to...the resonant frequency of our lives, if you will...and the peace of the day to day. Being happy with who we are but also able to dance in the rain when the weather is just right.

I love dancing. I love music. I love that I am every so often able to throw off the oppressive bullshit that we are overcome with if we let ourselves. Do not be constrained (DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT!)

aside for a passionate monologue

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

/aside

we are built to dance in the rain. we are built to react to the music and to find the chords that resonate to our core. we were tuned from the outset for specific reactions to trigger specific actions. not predestination but to be present on the way towards your ultimate destination. do not let your life pass by as if it were something to get through but instead, grab that bitch by the sensitive parts and jump on for the ride of your life. chase that which seems worth chasing whether it at first appears unattainable or not. truth be told, if it feels attainable, you are likely shooting at something you already know you can hit. aim higher, aim at that which scares you. aim at the target you would love to hit but don't believe you can. stretch yourself. allow others to stretch you and similarly stretch and encourage others to do the same. find likeminded people that encourage you, and pour your everything into encouraging them as if they were your life's mission and hope for the same in return. live with passion. eat fresh fruit, smell the fresh bread then deep into it with vigor, though it may be hot at first, a life that is always fresh out of the oven is the one best lived.

RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF YOUR PASSION
THIS IS YOUR LIFE, LIVE IT TO THE FULLEST
GET A TATTOO, QUIT THAT JOB, TAKE THAT NEXT STEP

Too much stuck in my head

Lately, way too many things have been swirling around in my head. It's like my conscious brain has been reduced to limited functionality while my subconscious throws a rip roaring party, eating and drinking everything in sight. On top of that, it seems that my subconscious has decided that it's not too interested in sleep while my physical body and conscious mind are both exhausted.
why?
Well, quite honestly, it's really straight forward. Working through major work changes again and truly considering putting this book away in favor of another. Often times, we get so comfortable with one aspect of life - work, in this case - that we put everything else in submission to that thing.
when that thing is work, things can easily go awry as work doesn't care about me. It doesn't understand what my hopes and dreams are, what I'm passionate about or, and maybe most importantly, my work life balance. Work can consume thoughtlessly. incompetent leaders can overload under the guise of "ensuring we're contributing at our potential", unwilling or unable to see that capacity is finite.
I'm personally very proud of my career at that place I spend so much time. I've learned a ton, done some great work, matured, realized a lot about myself and become much more organizationally competent. In my sleepy brain, that all makes sense. But truly, I'm freaking exhausted. I've been burning every candle I can find with a flamethrower, just walking around wrecklessly spewing out my energy as fast as I possibly can in order to speed the process, to move the change along but I'm coming to realize that change often happens slow.
If I were watching survivor or any other reality TV show for that matter, it would be at this point that I would expect - even start looking for - the twist. Oh, he thinks he has it figured out. But he has no clue what's going to happen tomorrow at 8am. That's fact, actually. I'm a bit worried about 8am. I was worried about 1230pm today and that's done and gone...on to a new fucked up milestone. pardon the language. Civility requires effort and this is my dumping ground, my vulnerability, my...ugh, I'm freaking tired.

Umm...now that I've purged this very basic, very mindless set of words, I have to agree that I'm just exhausted. Feels like I can't stop (won't stop) working. I'm not a workaholic but I've convinced myself that if I can scale up to two jobs, I can drop the one I like the least. What if I just said that I was going to drop the one I don't like and make things work on the other front, regardless. I'm worth more than this bullshit stress.
If there's one thing I learned from cancer, it's that life can be short. It can change in an instant. One visit to the doctors office...and maybe more importantly, we shouldn't let that scare us, but rather, motivate us to live more fully, more engaged, more relaxed each and every day. Why stress over cash? that shit doesn't last. Live for the moment. Live for your family. Live for those precious moments that you know you're skipping because you're working too much or too stressed or *insert the current excuse here*. That's lame, man. Life is too short.
Hmm.
I don't know that I've resolved much but consciously attempting to extract that which lies just below the surface is often the best exercise. The best way to get it out...to move forward, to realize what we already know instinctively. Maybe I should just quit and let things solve for themselves. Life has a way of doing that.
Set some milestones? Do taxes this weekend. Sell the car. Buy a cheaper one that's paid off. What else...there's like one or two more. Pay kids medical bills. Hmm...That all should ease the mind and the monthlies. Should be pretty dialed in, actually.
Tired, yo.

I don't understand people who live to work. Basically worshiping work as if it's the meaning of life. Like succeeding in work is succeeding in life. I don't buy that crap. Life is way too badass to give that shit to work. Some stuff at work is awesome, is fun, is something I can get excited about. I love working with awesome people on innovative stuff. Maybe I'll just do more of that.
Quit. Write. Contract down to what matters both financially and life-wise...then start playing again. God, I love playing. Work should be play...otherwise you're doing it wrong. So glad I pulled myself out of my role today. Best.decision.ever.
I don't know how many times I have to say that I'm not here for the money. I'm not here to make a million bucks per year. I'm not here to move up or any of that. I'm at work because I enjoy it and when I don't, it's time to move on.

This last paragraph or two was great. Processing this helps me calibrate and relax. It's not a big deal. It's just a paycheck at times. I'll still be able to pick up my kids after school. I'll still make plenty of cash (it's never enough anyways) and we'll adjust our lifestyles to our new incomes....and enjoy life a bit more. Nice premise. I figure I'll give it 3 months...and maybe just walk out sometime in the middle there when things look like they're ready to take a turn for the worse. Dunno. It will be interesting.

Bring the popcorn, please. I might forget.