A drunken night entry. More beers tonight than I’ve had in a while. And I don’t really care. I lost count after the first six pack.

Tonight, instead of doing nothing, I worked on my health checking script for work. I’m getting closer. I can smell it. The pieces are in place. I just need to continue to work at it. I could have it done shortly. When it is complete, it will give me ammunition to provide to Neil that will help push the adoption of <technical thing>.

At work today, I had a twenty minute conversation with Will about the biggest problems facing the our team - the WebLogic. I came up with:

  • lack of source controlled environments (WLST? Solution?)
  • inconsistencies between environments because of the above
  • pressure from teams to make changes directly to stage, because they cannot use the test environment. Which also creates inconsistencies. But is hard to push back on because they have a apoint.

Although Will understands what I'm saying, I still don’t 100% trust him. I’m not ready to go on a complete rant to him about everything under the sun that bothers me, because I know that at some point he is going to be a team lead. I can feel the ambition in him. I may be directly reporting to him. So I don’t want him to think that I’m a negative thinker that doesn’t want to contribute. That’s the last thing that I want. But at the same time I’m completely willing to express stark realities to him. That it’s hard to get anything done because of the systems in place. Because of the favoritism that we show to application teams. That our role is mostly support and no one wants to do anything for us, even if the impact is, frankly, minimal.

I’m watching the Red Sox game which sees the hometown boys leading 7-4 going into the 8th inning. It’s not bulletproof, but you’d expect the leading team to be able to close out a three run lead with only two innings left to play. Here’s hoping. And yet, I have to admit, I’m still not feeling particularly passionate about this team, for all of the hours that I’ve spent watching/listening to the games. I know most of the details about the team. I understand the major issues and stories. But it doesn’t really burn me up inside when they lose. I get a tiny bit bummed, but nothing like last year when I’d literally feel a blackened pall overhead when they gave up a lead to ultimately lose a ballgame.

You know what’s really weird? I almost want to feel negative about my life, and yet I’m having difficulty. This may have something to do with X number of beers floating around my bloodstream. But I think that it more likely is due to the conversations that I had with Ari last night. I had fun, for the first time in a while. We both listened to each other. I felt – maybe not understood, but accepted, and that he was really listening to what I was saying. And it felt good to also be able to listen to him and offer feedback and understanding.

I don’t’ even really care about work. I think I am getting to the point where I understand that certain things need to be done during the day, but that it is most important to first concentrate on what is visible, and then, secondarily, what matters to me and my team. Everything else can be put aside. I’m finding methods that work for me that allow me to cope.

And yet I’m drinking a shit-ton. Which means I'm unhappy probably. Or trying to control my life through substance use and abuse. Hey, who doesn't? It is The Way. It's what people do.

Today I didn’t work out at all. And do you know what? I don’t really give a shit. Today I pretended, in my fantasy world, that Doctor Ari, who really knows best, proscribed a day of no exercise and plenty of beer. He told me that muscle burnout is real, which I interpreted as “go get really fucking hammered and don’t work out today.” It helped that it is rainy and depressing outside. The kind of day that makes you just want to curl up under the covers and watch a movie, you know?

So tomorrow I can do some weights and cardio. I’ll probably feel better. For the last two weeks or so I’ve been pretty consistent about doing my workouts. It’s definitely okay to take a day off, the way that I did today.

Cradle of Filth is blasting on the stereo. Part of Her Ghost in the Fog. I stop writing to screetch along, trying to emulate the lead singer's sepultchuric voice.

And this I scream:
Come back to me!
For I was born in love with thee so why should fate stand in between?

It is a love song about resurrecting your dead partner. In this moment, it feels beautiful to me.

Then the song ends and suddenly there’s no avoiding the inner voice that tells me that I’m not living the Ideal Life. I’m not recycling enough. I’m not saving enough. I’m consuming too much. I’m not eating as well as I should. I’m not exercising enough. I’m not productive enough at work. I don’t dress well enough or have a particularly hot girlfriend. Worst of all, I am not a particularly good person.

Yet, there is something to be said for the fact that I’m doing well, by most people’s standards. And professionally I’m not very often bored, as frustrated as I am by much of what goes on at work.

I’m going to go outside and smoke a cigarette in the rain.

Back. Not what I expected. It’s about five to ten degrees cooler than would have been comfortable for such an activity. I walked around for about three restless minutes, venturing into another lot of apartment houses, before deciding that I was getting cold. There was a nice scene of rain falling through the light of a lamppost, the droplets weirdly illuminated, some kind of halo effect around the lantern. Now I’m back on my couch in my underwear, wondering what to do with myself. Probably I should just go to bed.

Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed. I could talk more about Ari, or Cal, or my sister, but instead I will do what I know is best so I'm functional tomorrow:

Advil and sleep.