Zombied

Hey remember how I used to update this blog? Yeah, me neither.

Oh shoot, that was my opening line LAST time I posted... over two weeks ago. Unfortunately the brain farm is fresh out of creativity juice so it looks like I'll have to resort to recycling material.

Wow that was a terrible metaphor. But not even close to terrible enough for me to expend the energy required to come up with a replacement.

I'm tired, like really tired. Was the above paragraph at all an indication of that? My job is extremely busy right now, and my days are something like: go to work and run what feels like the clerical equivalent of a marathon, hit the gym and/or attend designated evening activity, come home and work until I go to bed. I realize that this is often the norm for other professions like teaching or law but in my defense, I don't get summers off nor do I pull down a six-figure salary.

But I'm not complaining, honestly- just wishing that it wasn't Lent so that I could unwind with a glass or six of wine at night. I'll be over the hump of a huge project in the next two weeks, and besides, I've discovered the secret to making it through the day in the office. Around mid-afternoon when I can feel my brain cells begin to melt out my ears, I turn my music down to 'soft white noise' level, cross my arms on my desk, and put my head down like I'm about to play a rousing game of 'Heads Up, Seven Up' with a classroom full of second-graders during indoor recess. Which is what I wish I did for a living. But ten minutes of that and I feel like a brand new person.

I know it might seem unprofessional to take a little 'rest' like that on the job, but if you want to talk unprofessional let's discuss what I've done the couple times I've been extremely sick at work or running on a couple hours sleep, which is to go downstairs into the production studio (essentially a cave), turn out all the lights, and lie down until my extremities regain feeling. That, my friends, is unprofessional. Though, I honestly don't think my boss would be fazed if he walked in and found me that way. Very little fazes him.

But, like I said, a couple more weeks and my professional life should return to its regular programming and by then, March will have kick-started into high gear with what I'm afraid is more goodness than I can handle. Next week is BRAD PAISLEY in concert, followed by a trip to Raleigh for work and a stop to see an old friend on the way, and then Holy week I say ASTA LA VISTA baby to the southland and head for greener (whiter?) pastures up north.

So forget the wine. I will relax with the promise of deep-dish Chicago pizza coming my way in just one month. I wish I were joking when I say that the cheesy deliciousness of a Giordano's masterpiece was a major part of the decision-making process when I chose my vacation destination...