Can't sleep. I'm starting to become concerned, but maybe I just need to make it to the weekend. Had a horrible day yesterday yet I did everything I could to make it better. I was productive. I worked fast. I worked hard. Yet, despite double-timing, it seemed like I kept slipping deeper and deeper into my work. It's like I wasn't getting anywhere. I suppose I need to take a vacation, but then my fear is coming back to two, three days of neglected work. I just can't stand the thought of it. I mean, it actually makes me sick at my stomach.
Not sure, but I think I have workaholism developing.
What's funny (or really not) is when I'm going out of town, I work as hard as I can to get ahead so that when I get back, I'm then on schedule, but when you're working ahead from ten days behind, you never actually make it in the black. You just come close to getting ahead, but then the vacation just puts you back at where you were before. It's an incredible sensation when you feel like you're moving three times as fast as the world around you, yet you can never keep up.
I'm not trying to make this a public issue, but as The Root Down has become my stage for ranting and moaning, I'm just gonna get if off my chest. No, I'm not suicidal. I don't even really feel depressed. I'm just, uh, obsessed? Pre-occupied? If I didn't have my lovely wife, I swear I'd probably be completely lost sometimes. She schedules my vacations, my outings, keeps me on top of important dates. It's one of her many strengths and one of many reasons were a perfect fit.
Saw a lady this morning on YouTube who is deathly afraid of pickles and I couldn't help but think, "Wussy."
I know how to have a good time. I genuinely believe that. I know when it's time to relax, kick back. A good time to do that is when the Sox are beating Pedro's Mets 10-2 going into the last frame. I think people like having me around because I know how to put things aside, chill and bring the tempo down long enough to enjoy it. Normally, though, I'd travel at the speed of sound except I gotta be able to hear the music.
I gotta get my sleep schedule back in check soon. I know that has something to do with it. I shouldn't be able to get up at five in the morning and type pages and pages of material on The Root Down. You know, some would consider the relationship I have with you readers to be "unhealthy." It's not like I don't sleep. I just wake up at weird hours with the energy to jog a mile or two. I have dreams. Most of the time they're never anything disturbing just, you know, dreams. I don't stir too often in the middle of the night.
I'm never sick. In fact, I pride myself on my Wyrickian immune system that can obliterate any virus, bacteria or any "itis" with the precision of a fleet of highly-trained warplanes. I get plenty of exercise. I never find myself completely lacking of energy. I get plenty of fluids. I love baseball and absolutely adore my lovely wife. Seems like, at least, I have a pretty good control here.
I'm not asking for anyone to be concerned. I just gotta get some things off my chest, you know?
My lovely wife knows of my headaches and she does pretty well to get me to talk through it. It's just that it's early, she's asleep and I'm awake in front of the computer. We gotta rad weekend planned which includes camping down in the canyon on Saturday night. Should be a good relaxing time for me. Get me away from this blog crap for a while. Let me clear my head. I'm sure that's all I need is some time away. Happy Thursday everyone.
Clay's gettin' down for Thursday.
Word 'em up, holmes.
Word 'em up, holmes.