NOTHING. Existential stuff, sure. Always. Otherwise, nothing.
Work is this: we got bought by the guys who sued the victims of Abu Ghraib, because those helpless bastards sued us. I say "us" and I mean us; I work for SuperHyperGlobalMegaNet Part 2. I need to resurrect blixco. I need to find a New Thing.
But I'm old, so that's not as easy. My skills are stagnant. My degree is missing. My work isn't good.
So the plan, as always, is to leave town. And despite my insistence that Seattle is a Bad Idea (I have friends there, my wife does not, and there's a lot of deleted text that belongs in the hole), we're shooting for Denver. Close to friends and family in most locations, and lots of work.
Now, getting there.
If you know me personally or you've read me for any length of time, you know that I am a control freak of the most worst order. Therapy is helping. I'm looking at two Big Goals, and in both cases I've deleted the requirement to control every possibility.
Big Goal One: moving.
Big Goal Two: kids.
Yeah, I want a kids. Maybe more than one kids. My wife is not sold. She's where I was for the last X years: the time isn't right. But like Big Goal One, or like anything Big, the time is never right. You just do it, plan for what you can, and deal with the rest.
And I'm not just OK with that. I want that.
I need it.
So. Sometime between now and the next time I write a diary entry, I suspect movement will have occurred on the various fronts I am engaged with. Moving, job, kids. Job isn't a Big Goal, I don't give a shit about my career except that it be something I can do and maybe want to do. I did sort out my life goal, which was depressing in that it didn't illuminate anything or help my standing situations any: I want to help people. Teach them. So....now what?
Now, since I am the primary breadwinner and will be until I die, I need to find work that fits, and most IT work fits, but I'd rather not have the end product of my work be the killing of a human being. Need to draw the line somewhere, ya know?
So, no work with my credentials...I'm tired of them. I won't do another polygraph. I won't do any work that kills people. It's just not good.
But hey, I got by for nearly two decades before I joined The Man, so I figure if I can brush up on my devops and Ruby skillz, I can get work.
Outside of work, it's a blur. I don't sleep; we're into the heart of summer, so everything is too hot and too annoying.
I played guitar for the five days Laurea was out of town. Can't do it while she's here; it doesn't work when I know my output is annoying someone. But I have some ideas and an arrangement, so I need some lyrics. I have some lyric pieces:
Something about a time when December didn't matter. When you were alive and all that was wrong was stupid and simple. When the worst thing that happened was me, and not You. Think: nostalgia for selfishness.
Right then. Time to try and sleep. If you have answers or lyrics, respond. You may remember me. I was once a person who contributed to this location. I may eventually be again, if my life can just get out of neutral.
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