The Wall

I put 20+ hours of work into last weekend for work of all things.  Over the last 14 years we've gone in cycles between periods of stability & sanity and periods of unchecked growth in which there is more work to be done than can possibly be handled by the amount of people we have; regardless of how smart and professional they might be.  We're in one of those periods now.  However, for the silver lining such times of necessity are the Mother of Invention so-to-speak and this time we are once again focused upon how to do things smarter, faster, ... in short with more automagistration.

Today, however, I hit the wall.  Tired of explaining things to the same people time and again and trying to fight the same boiled down or overly simplistic views of much more complex processes I just couldn't function anymore.  I came home and laid on my bed for 20 minutes just tipped over on my side unable to even roll on my back or close my eyes - totally zombified.  I hadn't even stopped to change into more relaxed clothing.

Sam had apparently hit some type of wall of his own.  I could hear Bird talking to him in the kitchen about his homework and he started complaining loudly about how he hates homework and that he never has any free time.  Completely fucking laughable!  His true problem is that he has too much free time and we just aren't structured enough with him.  We keep thinking about and threatening to enroll him in piano lessons and we might just have to make good on that soon.  Today I didn't have the energy to go help Bird but she didn't really need my help and I let the anxiety the ridiculous complaint raised within me wax away.

I finally found the strength to get up and eat something before settling into a chair to read Ghost Rider by Neil Peart.  His writing is so deeply reflective I couldn't help but turn even more inwardly contemplative further withdrawing for a time from everything around me.  I think it can sometimes be hard on Bird when I check out like this, but today she seemed to be very understanding of it, and I thank and love her for that.

I managed to finish the book just before I needed to leave for hockey tonight and I couldn't help but think hockey was just the thing I needed to get out some frustration.  Sometimes when I'm out of sorts and I'm driving I purposely leave the radio off in order to force myself to 'face the music' in silence rather than trying to quiet my thoughts with noise, a form of escapism to which I think too many people are accustomed.  But tonight when setting out I decided to relieve some of my angst with a heavier variety of music.  Here in the Twin Cities the closest thing we have is 93X which is advertised as a Hard Rock station.  I was happy to find an earlier Pearl Jam song playing and cranked it up.  It was followed by Metallica and then some almost Pop sounding rock.  WTF!  I couldn't help myself from thinking what kind of 'limp dick' semi-hard Rock this was supposed to be.  (I'm sure someone might think the same about me considering Pearl Jam or Metallica to be hard when they are so mainstream, but that is a purist's prerogative I'm not here to entertain.)  Shortly after this I found myself listening to a Menard's ad and it dawned upon me that at that moment I was exactly in the target market group for 30-something, middle-class, white men that listen to Pearl Jam and Metallica on this radio station.  Filled with the angst of the day-to-day grind and many of Neil Peart's apt but slightly dark worldly observations it really did nothing to improve my mood.  So far drowning out my thoughts was not working.  I turned up the radio louder and threw in a bit more bass trying more desperately to replace the mental music.

I suited up for hockey, played hard, scored a goal (yeah), and drove home tired.  Tomorrow is another day.

If you were waiting for a point or a witty conclusion you will find none today.  Sometimes life just is what it is.