Ain't nothin' goin' on but the rent

It's been a while. Thanks for wishing I'd say something, whomever that was that commented in the post below. Pastor Stephen, eh? That's a new one. But why don't you identify yourself, be you friend or stranger? Too lazy to type your nom de internet or what? You flatter me with your desire to read something and I just want to say thanks for caring but can't.

Yes, I'm on this job that takes up way too much of my time and will probably, in some way, ruin this Thanksgiving weekend. There is a faint light at the end of the tunnel though, as we've only got another month to go. I would love to blog more; I want to. But after sitting in front of a computer for 12 hours a day, with my brain in full "go" mode for that whole time too, that by the time I get home the last thing I want to do is sit in front of the computer some more. I hope you can understand. The next-to-last thing I want to do when I get home is think, or use my brain, if I can help it. Blogging, or writing (as they called it in the olden times), requires that particular organ.

Fuck it. I could make excuses all the live-long day and cast blame this way and that way, or I could just say something.

This past weekend we celebrated Rob's birthday by going out to eat at the Frisco Diner on Burnet, the last of the Nighthawk establishments. Our waitress was somebody's grandmother who'd been working there for 40+ years. She started out kind of surly, but got a lot nicer as time went on. After that, we blindfolded Rob and drove him to the Crazy Lady. Back in the '02, the four of us (McGroach ain't complete w/o Miss R. Roach) had almost gone in there the night before the Mrs. and me went on our Trip, but didn't. I can't remember exactly why but it probably had something to do with me not wanting to lay out the funds required by a strip club when I'm about to be on the road for four months.

Let's go off on a tangent, b/c this is the interweb and that frequently happens here.

Me probably being the one who said no that night made me want to address something. I don't know if this is all in my head or if you may think of me in this way, but I feel like I'm the one who's not fun, or less fun, or whatever amongst our group of friends, within my marriage. And that sucks. I like to fuck off and have fun as much as the next guy, I guess I just try to put it in the context of the rest of my life and how other parts will be affected. There's times when the Mrs. gets the phone calls or the messages about stuff going on and maybe it's b/c everybody knows I'm working, which is painfully true, but that's not necessarily how I percieve it. To me, it's that I'm the afterthought and somehow this relates to me, for whatever reason, not being the most outgoing of people, or shy, or quiet. I hate the word shy, it should fuck off. Yeah, once upon a time for my entire childhood, I was shy. It would take me a while to make friends and I never had many when I did make them. But I don't think of myself in that way any more. I may be quiet still, to a degree, but it's not b/c I'm too embarrassed to make conversation. It's just that I'm trying to gauge those involved and figure out what they're about. Or my brain's working in a non-conversational way, and this happens quite a bit. You wouldn't believe how many times the Mrs. asks me what I'm thinking b/c I'm making some face, which usually means I'm having a conversation in my head. I'm the first to admit that my brain is probably the best thing about me. It keeps me trucking, generally gets me out of trouble, and allows me to help friends in the pursuit of trivia. But it's like sometimes it's doing too much work that it limits the rest of me from doing anything.

I don't really know what the hell I'm trying to say (been at work 13 1/2 hours now), other than I hope you won't hold it against me, that whenever I'm like that, it's just me being me. It's all part of the package--if you don't like the outside, maybe you like the inside, or vice versa. If you don't like either, then you're s.o.l. And if this blog is quiet for a while, then I'm either working or can't figure out the right way to say the things in my head.