Happy New Years.
12.31.2007
12.23.2007
Christmas 2007
Hey! It's almost Christmas and I am past due for an update. I won't try to detail all that has transpired since my last entry, but here's a high level summary in chronological order: quit old job, got married, went on honeymoon, started new job, joined new cycling team, headed to Elko for Christmas, Lauren starts grad school in three weeks. A disjointed list if I ever saw one, but a list nonetheless.
The married life is treating us well. Quite well. Even after the glitter faded from our honeymoon in Thailand, we still enjoy spending time together for the most part (gwahahahh) and form a solid team. Marriage changes everything and yet nothing. The primary change is the intangible gravity of the commitment and respect for one another. That changes everything, in a good way. I don't want to try and explain it so humor me and pretend to understand the concept. Too early in the day to expect the words to come out correctly.
I did indeed score that job I was striving for this past summer. Seems my 65-hour week commitment throughout those months was noticed after all and they offered me a full time position beginning October 8. In case you have not heard, I'm the sole mechanical design engineer for blossoming company Ugobe. Here:
http://ugobe.com/
Or better yet, here is their first product that is finally shipping (!) :
http://www.pleoworld.com/
I had a small but significant role in the design of Pleo, but my real focus is on new product development for the company. Determined not to be a "one trick pony", Ugobe is busting their butts to roll out the next wave of life forms. The products we make are border-line AI (artificial intelligence); Ugobe is allergic to the label "toy company" since we design companion pets that you can't "drive" but are instead autonomous and act according to sensory stimulation. It's not I-robot but the creepy surrealism is there. It is a dream job. I could not find a more engaging, challenging, or rewarding job anywhere on this continent. Not to rub it in, but I am rubbing it in.
And the 65-hour work weeks are a thing of the past. Things will assuredly flare up and demand a few overtime hours here and there, but overall I've averaged 38-45 hours per week since my start in October. I was really worried about over-working but seem to have a good handle on the work/life balance (kudos to Lauren on that one). Deciding to race again next year has also kept me from working too much. A lot going on, but without a few dozen 'balls in the air' to juggle I go stir crazy. Hooray for that little personality disorder...
Lauren is sleeping. We planned to hit the road around 10 AM and head down to Elko but there is no reason to roust her considering the road conditions outside. In Boise it never snows a lot, at least not here in town, but when the conditions are right the temperature drops and the little snow that does fall turns everything into a glacial sheet of traffic death. Don't ask me why I got up at 6 AM. I obviously don't have much to do if I'm finally taking the time to update this blog. Every now and again I wonder what I'll be like at 80 years old... Still getting up early, setting my alarm to boot, when there isn't anything that really must be done at such an early hour. If I am Yin then Lauren is Yang and as an 80-year-old I suspect she'll sleep until 3 PM each day. We'll have to wait and see on that one.
That's it for now. Excuse the incoherence.
The married life is treating us well. Quite well. Even after the glitter faded from our honeymoon in Thailand, we still enjoy spending time together for the most part (gwahahahh) and form a solid team. Marriage changes everything and yet nothing. The primary change is the intangible gravity of the commitment and respect for one another. That changes everything, in a good way. I don't want to try and explain it so humor me and pretend to understand the concept. Too early in the day to expect the words to come out correctly.
I did indeed score that job I was striving for this past summer. Seems my 65-hour week commitment throughout those months was noticed after all and they offered me a full time position beginning October 8. In case you have not heard, I'm the sole mechanical design engineer for blossoming company Ugobe. Here:
http://ugobe.com/
Or better yet, here is their first product that is finally shipping (!) :
http://www.pleoworld.com/
I had a small but significant role in the design of Pleo, but my real focus is on new product development for the company. Determined not to be a "one trick pony", Ugobe is busting their butts to roll out the next wave of life forms. The products we make are border-line AI (artificial intelligence); Ugobe is allergic to the label "toy company" since we design companion pets that you can't "drive" but are instead autonomous and act according to sensory stimulation. It's not I-robot but the creepy surrealism is there. It is a dream job. I could not find a more engaging, challenging, or rewarding job anywhere on this continent. Not to rub it in, but I am rubbing it in.
And the 65-hour work weeks are a thing of the past. Things will assuredly flare up and demand a few overtime hours here and there, but overall I've averaged 38-45 hours per week since my start in October. I was really worried about over-working but seem to have a good handle on the work/life balance (kudos to Lauren on that one). Deciding to race again next year has also kept me from working too much. A lot going on, but without a few dozen 'balls in the air' to juggle I go stir crazy. Hooray for that little personality disorder...
Lauren is sleeping. We planned to hit the road around 10 AM and head down to Elko but there is no reason to roust her considering the road conditions outside. In Boise it never snows a lot, at least not here in town, but when the conditions are right the temperature drops and the little snow that does fall turns everything into a glacial sheet of traffic death. Don't ask me why I got up at 6 AM. I obviously don't have much to do if I'm finally taking the time to update this blog. Every now and again I wonder what I'll be like at 80 years old... Still getting up early, setting my alarm to boot, when there isn't anything that really must be done at such an early hour. If I am Yin then Lauren is Yang and as an 80-year-old I suspect she'll sleep until 3 PM each day. We'll have to wait and see on that one.
That's it for now. Excuse the incoherence.
7.05.2007
July 5, 2007
Barely made it down here, but in retrospect I'm quite pleased with myself for postponing going to work for a few minutes to catch up on "me time". It's the fifth of July, as the time stamp and title most assuredly reiterate, and I've one bummer case of the Mondays.
I managed to sneak away from work on (the real) Monday afternoon to head up to Camp Alice Pittenger (CAP) in McCall; Lauren's home away from home for the past two weeks and the next six yet to come. She had a three-day respite between groups of cretins and I fully monopolized two of them (the days, not the cretins) with my presence. Funny what creatures of habit we all are, and after a mere 14 days at camp Lauren has reprogrammed her standard daily routine to be more conducive to leading a summer girl scout camp. During my time there we followed what I imagine is the typical daily schedule at CAP: up around seven, breakfast immediately following, craft time, nature time, lunch time, craft time, activity time, swim time, dinner. Lights out immediately at 10 p.m.; or else. Although I suspect my crafts and outdoor activities differ slightly from an eleven-year-old girl's, it did not stop me from embracing the time away from work, away from clients; away from this nerd-box laptop.
Regarding all the stimuli, CAP is freaking phenomenal. It possesses all of the elements you stereotypically expect to see at a girl scout camp: a Tinker Hut craft building, canoes and fun-yaks and sail boats and speed boats, a swim cove, mountain bikes, star-gazing telescopes, and a lodge/mess hall decorated with sickeningly adorable memoirs from years and troops now grown and gone (see: decorated tiles, quilts, Popsicle-stick mansions, and all the lanyard plastic bead jewelry your eyes can handle). There are so many animals roving around you'd think that Jim Henson lay hidden just out of sight, masterfully choreographing scores and varieties of animatronics to walk by and stand by whenever you venture outdoors. Oh hello deer, fox, bear, squirrel, fish, osprey...
But alas, I am back in Boise. McCall registered a high yesterday of 88-degrees F. Relatively speaking, 88-degrees in McCall felt blistering enough to warrant more than a few dips in the icy-cool lake. Driving down to this coffee shop, the radio DJ forcasted a Boise high of 106-degrees F. I do not believe that the F stands for Fahrenheit in both cases... I mean, 106-degrees is ridiculous. Fortunately I work in one of those well-insulated (from heat, light... and pretty much all sensory stimuli) labs within the university. Fortunately...?
Work is a bit bothersome. The aforementioned toy design company has recognized my abilities and made a few insinuations regarding potential employment; which is nice. The current job however is still draining too much time and not offering enough reward for my taste. I worry that my taste is impossible to satiate, however, so I am perpetually trying to suck it up and accept my job for what it most certainly is: reality. No one likes their job all the time, and I fear that I am spoiled by having things "this good" directly out of grad school. Sarcasm? Not sure, I'm tired.
And poof, my window of time has vanished, much like all molecules of water on a 106-degree summer day in Boise. Off to work for what will likely be a nine or ten-hour day. As mentioned, this feels like a Monday and it'll be hard to snap out of my funk. Thanks for tuning in.
-Calvino
I managed to sneak away from work on (the real) Monday afternoon to head up to Camp Alice Pittenger (CAP) in McCall; Lauren's home away from home for the past two weeks and the next six yet to come. She had a three-day respite between groups of cretins and I fully monopolized two of them (the days, not the cretins) with my presence. Funny what creatures of habit we all are, and after a mere 14 days at camp Lauren has reprogrammed her standard daily routine to be more conducive to leading a summer girl scout camp. During my time there we followed what I imagine is the typical daily schedule at CAP: up around seven, breakfast immediately following, craft time, nature time, lunch time, craft time, activity time, swim time, dinner. Lights out immediately at 10 p.m.; or else. Although I suspect my crafts and outdoor activities differ slightly from an eleven-year-old girl's, it did not stop me from embracing the time away from work, away from clients; away from this nerd-box laptop.
Regarding all the stimuli, CAP is freaking phenomenal. It possesses all of the elements you stereotypically expect to see at a girl scout camp: a Tinker Hut craft building, canoes and fun-yaks and sail boats and speed boats, a swim cove, mountain bikes, star-gazing telescopes, and a lodge/mess hall decorated with sickeningly adorable memoirs from years and troops now grown and gone (see: decorated tiles, quilts, Popsicle-stick mansions, and all the lanyard plastic bead jewelry your eyes can handle). There are so many animals roving around you'd think that Jim Henson lay hidden just out of sight, masterfully choreographing scores and varieties of animatronics to walk by and stand by whenever you venture outdoors. Oh hello deer, fox, bear, squirrel, fish, osprey...
But alas, I am back in Boise. McCall registered a high yesterday of 88-degrees F. Relatively speaking, 88-degrees in McCall felt blistering enough to warrant more than a few dips in the icy-cool lake. Driving down to this coffee shop, the radio DJ forcasted a Boise high of 106-degrees F. I do not believe that the F stands for Fahrenheit in both cases... I mean, 106-degrees is ridiculous. Fortunately I work in one of those well-insulated (from heat, light... and pretty much all sensory stimuli) labs within the university. Fortunately...?
Work is a bit bothersome. The aforementioned toy design company has recognized my abilities and made a few insinuations regarding potential employment; which is nice. The current job however is still draining too much time and not offering enough reward for my taste. I worry that my taste is impossible to satiate, however, so I am perpetually trying to suck it up and accept my job for what it most certainly is: reality. No one likes their job all the time, and I fear that I am spoiled by having things "this good" directly out of grad school. Sarcasm? Not sure, I'm tired.
And poof, my window of time has vanished, much like all molecules of water on a 106-degree summer day in Boise. Off to work for what will likely be a nine or ten-hour day. As mentioned, this feels like a Monday and it'll be hard to snap out of my funk. Thanks for tuning in.
-Calvino
5.31.2007
On a lighter note
All the better, I now see, for me to forget my 'dongle' and thus be rendered helpless and unable to crank out any work this morning. For now I am sitting at Big City Coffee out on State Street, 10 minutes' drive from home and 20 minutes' drive from work, turning to this online purge-hole to fill my time. Nearly three months ago I posted the blog about el padre mio, which felt good, but I certainly did not mean to let such an interval pass without a less-intense update. Some of you have expressed concern. Stop, all is well.
Can't go home, no sir, since I'm scheduled to meet a couple gents here in about 45 minutes to discuss a work project. Same old story in Calvin's world: getting to work at 7:00 a.m. does not allow me to leave at 3:00 p.m., due to my own inability to set some limits and walk out that door. A mired mix of perfectionism and egotism, the 50+ hour work week has become all too common. What? This is the real world you say? Yikes.
Lauren and I are due to wed in a mere three months (and change). Don't feel offended if you've not yet received an invite, we're on the ball but not THAT on the ball so you'll likely get one soon don't fret. Sometimes it catches up with both of us and we're bowled over by the immensity of all that's happening; I'm not talking about the logistics of the wedding, I mean the situation of us having found such a connection in one another and imagining/planning our future together. Sitting on the couch last night, I was spacing off recalling the times I spent alone and independent or rather independently lonely. Paid my dues, as well all tend to do.
Continuing this mental spaticity, an update on this job that I love/hate/can't seem to fully control: after having paid my dues with dozens of quirky independent inventor-types, on dozens of quirky 'inventions', I have sort of struck gold with the most recent project (the gents I'm meeting in ten minutes). You remember some of my old projects:
Refrigerator latches
External Catheter devices
Fly-line cleaner tools
Packaging/automation conveyor systems
Touch screen electronics enclosures
Bicycle transmissions
Animal telemetry devices
Prosthetic air expulsion valves
Not all bad, but honestly most of them will never make it to full production for various reasons. Well, of late I have been doing some CAD-jockey work for local business entity UGOBE. Perhaps you've heard of the Pleo dinosaur? It's the next uber-cool toy from the "polymath toy inventor" that created the Furby a few years back. Even though I'm just a CAD monkey right now, I'm hoping that they see my abilities in product design and innovative conceptual design. In this industry, the term CAD-jockey is quite derogatory and a label analogous to "expert video-gamer". Drawing a few shapes in SolidWorks, per some one's specs, isn't that difficult. Hashing out the details, brainstorming better solutions and alternatives and showing souplesse is what carves out a niche for oneself. They haven't seen it in me yet, but I think they will.
Maybe once the Pleo hits shelves this fall I can post some pictures to show off what I've assisted in developing. For now, however, it's all honor-system and you have to just believe that I am somehow involved with a pretty cool company that beats the pants off of anyone else I've designed for. Pretty cool, to understate an amazing opportunity.
OK, time to wrap it up. Hopefully I'll forget my dongle more often, this has been delightful.
Can't go home, no sir, since I'm scheduled to meet a couple gents here in about 45 minutes to discuss a work project. Same old story in Calvin's world: getting to work at 7:00 a.m. does not allow me to leave at 3:00 p.m., due to my own inability to set some limits and walk out that door. A mired mix of perfectionism and egotism, the 50+ hour work week has become all too common. What? This is the real world you say? Yikes.
Lauren and I are due to wed in a mere three months (and change). Don't feel offended if you've not yet received an invite, we're on the ball but not THAT on the ball so you'll likely get one soon don't fret. Sometimes it catches up with both of us and we're bowled over by the immensity of all that's happening; I'm not talking about the logistics of the wedding, I mean the situation of us having found such a connection in one another and imagining/planning our future together. Sitting on the couch last night, I was spacing off recalling the times I spent alone and independent or rather independently lonely. Paid my dues, as well all tend to do.
Continuing this mental spaticity, an update on this job that I love/hate/can't seem to fully control: after having paid my dues with dozens of quirky independent inventor-types, on dozens of quirky 'inventions', I have sort of struck gold with the most recent project (the gents I'm meeting in ten minutes). You remember some of my old projects:
Refrigerator latches
External Catheter devices
Fly-line cleaner tools
Packaging/automation conveyor systems
Touch screen electronics enclosures
Bicycle transmissions
Animal telemetry devices
Prosthetic air expulsion valves
Not all bad, but honestly most of them will never make it to full production for various reasons. Well, of late I have been doing some CAD-jockey work for local business entity UGOBE. Perhaps you've heard of the Pleo dinosaur? It's the next uber-cool toy from the "polymath toy inventor" that created the Furby a few years back. Even though I'm just a CAD monkey right now, I'm hoping that they see my abilities in product design and innovative conceptual design. In this industry, the term CAD-jockey is quite derogatory and a label analogous to "expert video-gamer". Drawing a few shapes in SolidWorks, per some one's specs, isn't that difficult. Hashing out the details, brainstorming better solutions and alternatives and showing souplesse is what carves out a niche for oneself. They haven't seen it in me yet, but I think they will.
Maybe once the Pleo hits shelves this fall I can post some pictures to show off what I've assisted in developing. For now, however, it's all honor-system and you have to just believe that I am somehow involved with a pretty cool company that beats the pants off of anyone else I've designed for. Pretty cool, to understate an amazing opportunity.
OK, time to wrap it up. Hopefully I'll forget my dongle more often, this has been delightful.
3.01.2007
Short story, short sighted
Similar to the author, Michael H. went to Spring Creek High School and played in the marching band as part of the Spartan music program. A percussionist by trade, the rattle-tat-tat of the snare and quad drum set was a precursor to his current occupation with the Elko County police force. Michael graduated somewhere between my sister and I; must have been 1997, as I believe he was only one year my elder during those sweet years of Spartan pride.
I have learned that, upon completing high school, Michael relocated to San ***** , California (Diego? Francisco? One of those), to pursue the eminent career in law enforcement. Soon thereafter he shot his first human in what had to be a moment of exorbitant emotion. Gang member? Doper? Nope: personal partner on the police force. Michael's partner of the time went berserk and started popping off fellow coppers; two policemen died before Michael put a bullet in the gunman.
Fast forward in time and Michael is back in Elko. Perhaps Michael returned to his hometown to flee the twisted go-fast world of South/Central California. He must have known of the severe, accelerating, indefatigable methamphetamine problem in Nevada? Perhaps love brought him back; I know for a fact that he has a wife and children he loves, supports, needs. At any rate Elko, Nevada is far from Green Gables, and the atmosphere grows more fetid and rank with each gram snorted, each slot-arm pulled, and each hooker rented. It's spiraling.
On the evening of February 10 of this very year, Michael responded to a call of public disturbance in South-Central Elko, a few blocks away from the elementary school I attended in 1987 - "Southside Elementary". Some whacked-out meth-head was screaming and trying to break down a door to a home, threatening (incoherently) the residents indoors. I do not know the specific details of the event, but I do know a few things: Michael found himself a few feet from the criminal. Criminal's eyes wild in tweaked-out dementia with saliva flowing from his rotting screaming mouth and limbs jerking in spastic, erratic motions. The man reached behind his back, desperately grasping at something tucked within his rear waistline.
In retrospect, Michael should have shot him. He had a family at home, after all. But he did not, he hesitated. Fortunately, the man was reaching for a hunting knife, and despite his spun-out oblivion the assailant eventually dropped his guard and was arrested by the surrounding officers. A quick search revealed just under 28 grams of methamphetamine; ready to distribute, ready to rock.
It is a small world. Michael was called to testify on February 28 in the Elko County Court House against the criminal - James Douglas Allan. My sister was at the trial, and my good friend from years past was the presiding judge. Aside Michael, four other people testified against JDA, all reiterating the details of his actions and possessions that night.
James Douglas Allan is currently awaiting trial in the Elko County Jail. Carrying 28 grams of meth with intent to sell could warrant anywhere from ten years to a life sentence in prison. At 53 years old, you'd think he's ready to slow down. Not so. The estate from his recently deceased father will pay him about $50k over the next few years, and James plans to sink that money into a legal battle to prove his innocence.
In Michael's words, he should have shot the man. Michael is, after all, a husband and a father.
I have learned that, upon completing high school, Michael relocated to San ***** , California (Diego? Francisco? One of those), to pursue the eminent career in law enforcement. Soon thereafter he shot his first human in what had to be a moment of exorbitant emotion. Gang member? Doper? Nope: personal partner on the police force. Michael's partner of the time went berserk and started popping off fellow coppers; two policemen died before Michael put a bullet in the gunman.
Fast forward in time and Michael is back in Elko. Perhaps Michael returned to his hometown to flee the twisted go-fast world of South/Central California. He must have known of the severe, accelerating, indefatigable methamphetamine problem in Nevada? Perhaps love brought him back; I know for a fact that he has a wife and children he loves, supports, needs. At any rate Elko, Nevada is far from Green Gables, and the atmosphere grows more fetid and rank with each gram snorted, each slot-arm pulled, and each hooker rented. It's spiraling.
On the evening of February 10 of this very year, Michael responded to a call of public disturbance in South-Central Elko, a few blocks away from the elementary school I attended in 1987 - "Southside Elementary". Some whacked-out meth-head was screaming and trying to break down a door to a home, threatening (incoherently) the residents indoors. I do not know the specific details of the event, but I do know a few things: Michael found himself a few feet from the criminal. Criminal's eyes wild in tweaked-out dementia with saliva flowing from his rotting screaming mouth and limbs jerking in spastic, erratic motions. The man reached behind his back, desperately grasping at something tucked within his rear waistline.
In retrospect, Michael should have shot him. He had a family at home, after all. But he did not, he hesitated. Fortunately, the man was reaching for a hunting knife, and despite his spun-out oblivion the assailant eventually dropped his guard and was arrested by the surrounding officers. A quick search revealed just under 28 grams of methamphetamine; ready to distribute, ready to rock.
It is a small world. Michael was called to testify on February 28 in the Elko County Court House against the criminal - James Douglas Allan. My sister was at the trial, and my good friend from years past was the presiding judge. Aside Michael, four other people testified against JDA, all reiterating the details of his actions and possessions that night.
James Douglas Allan is currently awaiting trial in the Elko County Jail. Carrying 28 grams of meth with intent to sell could warrant anywhere from ten years to a life sentence in prison. At 53 years old, you'd think he's ready to slow down. Not so. The estate from his recently deceased father will pay him about $50k over the next few years, and James plans to sink that money into a legal battle to prove his innocence.
In Michael's words, he should have shot the man. Michael is, after all, a husband and a father.
2.10.2007
U huh yeah
More and more often, I’m realizing, these entries only occur during strange times. It so happens that the last few ‘strange times’ have been defining pivotal moments of personal crisis. That is not the case this morning. No crisis here, no sir. It is simply quite early and I have opted to scream at the keys instead of making noise in this darkened house.
My sister and her husband and of course Jacob (or the Jacobian Matrix, as I am fond of calling him in my super-nerd world of mathematical humor) arrived last night about ten p.m. Funny timing with everything, since Lauren had to leave on a jet plane this morning at six to spend six days at a conference in Austin, Tejas. She will be missed dearly. Really, we’re doing phenomenally.
I get to watch Jacob wrestle (“rassell”) today at a tournament over in Eagle. Aside from my stellar home cooking and pleasant demeanor, the wrestling match is the reason for their visit. Sort of a last minute decision on their part, and I am so glad to see them all. Living a mere 240 miles away from family might as well be the distance across the
And now I will digress for a few lines, speaking of the
So I am beginning to screw my head on straight, emotionally, but I do not want to let the topic dominate this entry. Apparently my last entry reeked of desperation, because I got some amazing spiritual feedback from many of my family and friends. Thank you. The weather, the job, the house, the wife to be, her beloved eternal unremitting fountain of fur (McKinley)… are all separate yet correlated elements of the good life; a life I live everyday. Pair said ingredients with good music, art, and literature, and there is no room for emotional doldrums. Speaking of, here is my current/recently completed list of art forms:
Novelas: We the Living (Ayn Rand), 1984
Cinema: Volver (Penelope Cruz)
Musack: LCD Sound System, Cloud Cult, Junior Boys, My Brightest Diamond
Canvas: Adolph Gottlieb, duh
Oral Palette: $1.00 (two-pound) Peach Pie Scone from Big City Coffee. Tasty.
1.09.2007
Waffling
And it is here, sitting in my oh-so-favorite shop of coffee, that I am finally pulling my head out. Beginning to, at least. I am realizing that, if I do not turn things around, at the bare minimum I will have to change my description of values listed atop this blogging page. Life, love, spirituality, health, friendship. Those elusive yet invaluable qualities that make life worth pursuing.
I seem to have deviated from said list of values. In a deep conversation with Lauren (several deep conversations over the past few months, one profound discussion last night) I verbalized my perceived lack of control. The problem is not a lack of direction, nor a lack of purpose in life. I sit smug, confident in my life’s purpose (though what that purpose is I may not know for some time); however the micro-plans and immediate priorities throw my thoughts into bedlam. I feel like the train is on the tracks, in motion, though I’ve no way of predicting how many stops or detours wait on the route.
I am spiritually lost. A friend of mine (a dear friend actually [which I did not fully realize until last night]), in sympathetic dialogue, described his soul as his haven. His sanctuary. His private, secluded area of retreat to which he smuggled his problems; dragging them from the world’s chaos into his sheltered, secure refuge for dissection. I do not have such a place. The concept of my soul is mired in typical and atypical questions from the mind of a 26-year-old male. I have never felt so lost spiritually, or at least have never expressed it openly and admitted it to myself.
Family is concerned. Lauren is concerned. God is in question. Oddly, there remains an obstinate flicker of faith. “It will be OK, I’ll figure it out.” A phrase I hear myself (disconnected) reciting to my mother, fiancé, and friends. Actually, this is not a pacifier, nor a detached attempt to console those listening to (reading?) my ramblings. “It will be OK” wells from an unwavering assurance that this is all necessary; hard, damn near impossible to figure out, but imperative for my happiness. That same flicker, of faith, keeps me from freaking out all-at-once (though I fear it’s happening ever-so-gradually).
There it is: happiness. The word is seldom spoken, written, or otherwise vomited from my (limited) vocabulary without the conjoined twin “satisfaction”. Satisfaction: the act of fulfilling a need or desire or appetite. I set these ridiculous goals, kills myself to accomplish the goals (while concurrently setting other goals), then move on without acknowledging accomplishment. Hence the lack of control feeling, the train analogy. No one is at the helm; I don’t feel like I even got to buy the ticket.
Ironically, and this adds to the confusion, I’ve nothing to complain about. I look at my life’s elements: Money, Love, Health…. ? All is well on each front, though collectively I feel hollow. I really enjoy my job. I really love my fiancé. I really love my family, our house, the dog, my friends, my sport endeavors. Something, is missing.
No one wants to tackle such issues, and I’m experiencing a temporary alienation from my friends (I have not really vented this to anyone, though I suppose I emanate a scattered/phony demeanor that is compassion’s anti-serum). People get all squirmy, dodgy when asked about personal satisfaction, spirituality, love. God. What?
God is love. What? This comment is piercing, more so than any of the verses I’ve chronicled away in the annals of my Baptista upbringing. I hold tight to the concept as a tangible descriptor of an intangible entity. I feel? Check. I feel love? Check. I feel God? Maybe. My scientific, overly-educated cranium is leading me to spiritual tribulation, but the best-formulated chemical (scientific) explanations for emotion do not quantify my feelings.
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