Friday, September 16, 2005

Wednesday March 7, 2007
Heading to another interview in Seattle. My chest hurts. This is a Director of Marketing position that I’m probably not qualified for. I was over-qualified for the other one, or at least I thought so. I don’t know, I’m getting frustrated. The first one fell through, so did the phoner, not sure what will happen with these two. There’s not much else in the hopper if one of these doesn’t pan out.
Did I mention my chest hurts? 12k-15k another 15k maybe 36 at 6-8k a month. 4 or 5 months? Good to September, maybe. It would be a very stressful summer.
Going to LA tomorrow. The wife can walk without crutches now. Golf Friday, maybe Saturday AM, then the party, then Sunday AM, then out. Cards Friday night.
I want to get this interview over with and get a drink. I’m not at the top of my game. I haven’t run since I don’t know when. The surgery was Feb. 2, so some time after that. Lots of eating and drinking and lying about. Laundry and dishes and transporting the kid, cooking and feeding and cleaning.
Really need a break. Really need a job. Just not clicking, it’s not quite clicking. Need food.

Heading home. No idea about this interview. He was cavalier, a bit pompous, inscrutable, but not purposefully so. He was hard to read.
Judgmental, tempermental, I hate people so. I don’t want to speak because I know I’ll sound like everyone else I hear and hate myself even more. Deplore. Deplorable. Adorable.
Weird stuff overheard, I know the sleeping arrangements were kind of strange. What do you do? What do you hear here?

The job. Odd, undefined. Military. Lots of defense. Half hour walk. My ex-co-worker who got me in there is humorless – or at least I haven’t found the humor in her. She may think I am so, too.
4:40 ferry. I was out just before 4:00. And I’m now on my fourth beer at 4:54. It’s a half hour walk. The other job would be a better walk.
People. Boat. Everywhere. What? What are they what are we? Did I mention four beers?
There’s beauty outside. I should be there. Instead I drink and scribble. Drink and scribble.
Drink & scribble, drink & scribble, scribble scrabble dibble babble amongst the rabble rattle babble babble babel, Babel Nimrod. Iditarod. Clod. Plod. SOD. Sodden. Downtrodden. Ill-begotten. Forgotten.
I had a thought last night. It was more than a thought, actually. Something about society, people, and government. We are people striving to be happy. We love, we make families, we work and try to live secure lives, predictable, we try to raise kids, happy kids, we just want to live and be happy. So, we work and we pay axes. We want to think the money we pay in taxes goes towards those things that we value – infrastructure, education, and shit like that. And when we see billions and trillions going into killing or even not killing, just spreading “democracy” then who cares – who cares? Why should we spend $180 billion to fix Iraq. They work for us. These people spending our money, they work for us. But, they aren’t doing what most of us want them to do.
Yes, so I had some thought like that. Only different.

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