A compelling or constraining influence, such as a moral force on the mind or world, PRESSURE.
To be undecided or skeptical, to tend to disbelieve and distrust, to regard as unlikely, that’s DOUBT.
The condition of being insufficient or falling short, decline in strength or effectiveness, FAILURE.
The instinct to run, to back away, or give up, to need, want, reach, steal, the feeling to always want more, and to take more, the loss of breath at the sight of a car accident, to drive by, never being able to feel satisfied, and to reject anyone who tries,
and this is my life.

I promised myself I would work hard today while I was here in the office.  All the things that are on the email list of “please do this” was going to be done and then some.  That way, if I don’t come back, its done.

See, its my hope to receive a phone call on Monday about a job offer.  I know I’m probably jinxing the whole process by even commenting on it, but at this point, things can’t possibly go any more awry.  Considering I’m stuck driving to Austin and back every day for the next two weeks, there would go my required “two week notice.”  Essentially, I would never have to see my non-office again.

At that point, I probably wouldn’t complain about driving to Austin every day.  It would be like a mini-vacation from the local office I’m stuck at.  I could take in some local areas I adore, eat some food I enjoy, and (of course) wander a store or two.

In spite of it all, I’ve found myself revisiting my past through music.  The lovely introduction you read at the very start was from an Early November song off of their triple CD release called “The Mother, The Mechanic, and the Path.”  The third CD (“the Path”) is actually the story of a guy’s life told through snippets of song and speaking parts.

To tell the story of how I came across this gorgeous concoction doesn’t give it justice.  I never much paid attention to the CD just after its purchase.  I happened to be driving to work to BFS and heard the introduction.  Something that gripped my chest tightened.

He was talking to me.  No, for me.

This guy speaking, Dean, had just spoken the exact words that were floating through my head constantly for two years.  I had failed at so many things.  I failed as a college graduate (I was working construction), as a wife (divorced/separated before a year of marriage), as a family member (my family moved to AZ because of my choice to marry), and myself.  I didn’t necessarily have all of the experiences Dean speaks of, but the introductory track on “The Path” stuck me like a speeding train.

I had a similar reaction a few years later shortly after I had moved to Candor and was listening to a new unsigned artist named Ronnie Day.  His “Insert 2” is a short segway to another song, but speaks volumes:

I’m losing sense of self
There’s a stranger in my head and he says he’s here to help
But his medicine is bittersweet
and I still can’t eat and I still can’t sleep
This isn’t me.

Things always seem to appeal to me like this.  Give me everything you have as fast as possible and make me feel it.  You don’t have to write a 4 minute song to move a person’s soul… you just have to be honest.

Today, I listened to both of those and can see the Day of Discoveries playing in my head.  I can hear the traffic of All American speeding by my car as I listen, mouth wide, to this man speak my very thoughts.  I can feel the soft cotton of my favorite shirt and the hard plastic of the hanger as Ronnie points out the glaring truth.

And since I was already down the path, I decided to play some other favorites from the past.  It started with For Squirrel’s “Example” and a desperate search to see if perhaps their first CD and EP had found their way to the internet yet.  It continued with Lisa Loeb, Phish, and Jethro Tull.  I resolved to lighten the mood (because you can’t live in the past with a job you can’t stand!) and listened to That Was Something and City and Colour.

And here I am.  Leaving for lunch and hour late having done nothing but listen to music and talk to the internet wanderers.

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