What have I done... let's see.
I went to that beer,bourbon,and barbecue festival, said goodbye to a friend who moved to vegas, and A and I also went to the zoo in the winter.
I've lost about 15 lbs. I have about another 30 to go before I am comfortable again, 60 before I am where I want to be.
I kickstarted the tech for a discount ticket box office (which involved a cameo to the guts of the discount ticket center at Times Square - holy crap was that intense). I've downshifted into new responsibilities in my job. I've absorbed a huge amount of data for a call-center system automation system. I've learned more about telefundraising than I ever wanted to. I've started trying to think about my future in a scalable way, rather than an infinite thread spiralling out ahead of me. A late-night conversation with wangch61 had no small hand in that, but also A.'s reaction to my regular extra hours, and off-hours firefighting.
I've grown increasingly dissatisfied with my lot, and increasingly convinced that it is not a great time to be shaking trees in a paralell or advancement move. I'm not at the point where I can be considering demotion - too many things on the horizon. As long as I can rein in my frustrations at the crux moments, I should be able to skate for a while. I need to get signed up for a certification course.
Every spring since the year after it came out, I've read Stephen King's "IT". Usually, sometime around April/May, I have a dream, which always makes me crave the book. This year, that dream came the eve of a day that was tied to both a huge flood in Germany in the 60's, and the mudslide in the Phillipines a few years back. The dream always features a flood, and always links in to the opening scene of the book. Maybe because of Hati, maybe because of some springtime connection, this year, the dream featured both water and mud. I am wondering if on some level my subconscious is parsing all this stuff, creating patterns for me, or if this is all just coincidence that I am ascribing meaning to. Once that dream comes, the book has to follow, or the dreams get worse - there is catharsis somewhere in the story that lets the valves blow off the steam that accumulates through a year. A horrifying thought, abstractly, that something like "IT" is what it takes for my brain to stretch out the fatigue, particularly coming two/three months earlier than usual, but I do not question the tonic what heals my woes.
I've not written much of note, despite stories moving along rapidly, which irritates me. I've tackled innumerable side jobs, in an attempt to finance a healty tax biil, and a vacation planned prior to the establishement of said tax bill.
I need to focus on appreciating the largesse of good things in my life, instead of bemoaning the neighbor's lawn.
I definitely need to get back into a better writing groove.