And that's news to me...

After years and years (about twenty or so) of sleeping four to five hours a night, the last two weeks have found me getting about six to nearly eight hours of slumber. Not sure how that happened, but I find myself more groggy than ever. Not good. I sometimes feel my mental capacities are also off kilter with this increased sleep. Also not good as there have been some line-up changes at work, and with the holidays coming (I work retail) I need to be alert and on my game more than ever.
As for my job, I work for a music store and have for about seven and a half years. I can tell you, when I was a younger, trim, handsome 22 year old I never thought I'd still be here. I figured (like a lot of their employees) that at this point, I'd have moved onto bigger and better things. But with 100 days left of being in my 20's, I'm still there. Only now I'm thirty pounds heavier and grumpier and feel ready to smash a Squire Strat through whatever crappy 15watt solid state amp we're pushing that month and run screaming into the street.
Let me clarify; I really don't hate my job. For the most part I like my job and I'm very grateful to have steady work when many people have no job at all. I'm just VERY burnt out right now and am unable to take some decent vacation. This is mainly due to being short staffed and not wanting my coworkers to be too burdened with my work if I weren't there. I am, however, taking a nice four day weekend this week so that will be some nice "unravel" time.
I generally work six days a week. Monday through Friday from 8AM til 4:30PM. I work every Saturday from 8AM til 11 or so. So yeah, it's kinda like barely a half day but I suppose it's the having to be there by 8 part that gets to me.
Not sure what I'm going to do with my four days off. I hope to get back to working on my book. Something I haven't touched in nine days. Every time I open the other laptop (which is solely for my writing; the better-half and I share this one for Internet/her homework) I stare at the hole in the page for a few minutes. Then I'll open up a game of spider solitaire while waiting for something to come to me that doesn't sound like complete horseshit. But lately all I have is horseshit. I think I'm just burdened down by work. Which, by proxy, puts more pressure on the book. Obviously, I'd love to finish the book, sell it, quit my job, and start writing full time.
I think I share that dream with probably two million other people.
I think a lot of them are better writers than me.
I think sometimes I'm a fucking idiot.
In other news, years ago I used to play in a band called Missile Silo Suite with a guy named Anthony. Actually there were four other people besides me but Anthony and I were the two guitar players. The band broke up in 2005, a date that seems more ancient to me as the days, weeks, months, and years go by. But we always maintained sporadic contact. A couple of years after Missile split, he and two others from the band started helping me record a record I had written. It was good to be in a room with those guys again. Especially Anthony, since our Missile break up was rather bitter. The recording project fell apart when my wife was transferred to Minneapolis. I had only seen him once between then and getting the bad news I got last month. For most of the time I knew Anthony, he'd been seeing and living with a sweet firecracker named Jill. They generally seemed happy and I was always happy for them. Apparently they'd tried to have a few kids in the past that have ended with miscarriages. I guess early this year they'd gotten pregnant again. This time, however, things seemed to be going well. After a few months of a finally normal pregnancy they broke the news to family and friends. I received this email on September 11th:

"Hi all,

Jill and I are having a baby boy which should be born on January 19th, 2010. We are both very excited and we are currently working on baby names. Jill is doing great and all is well. Feel free to pass the info along to anyone who might be interested.

Sincerely,

Anthony"

I meant to respond right away. Telling him how happy I was for both of them. That I was proud of him. I never did because I am often a lazy fuck. This lazy fuck got this email in his inbox nine days later on September 20th:

"Hello everyone,

I recently sent an email to all of you to inform you about our pregnancy. Unfortunately, Wednesday Jill went into labor prematurely at about 8:30 AM while I was at work. She gave birth shortly after, before I got home, and before 911 was even called. It was rather traumatic and the baby, Simon, was pronounced dead at 10:10 AM. He was 23 weeks which is too early for modern science to save the baby. They say that under ideal conditions they can save the pregnancy at 24 weeks but the complications can be horrible, IE blindness, deafness, poor lung function, and mental handicaps. In the end, the result would have been the same in the hospital. It's been a tough week for Jill and me. Sorry to bring you such sad news but we thought you all should know.

Sincerely

Anthony and Jill"

Isn't that about a bitch? I responded with the usual "Oh man I'm so sorry...blah blah blah." I never got a response from him. I hope he knows how bad I feel and that I hope he and Jill will be okay. Anthony has had a lot of hard knocks in his life. This is, sadly, just another one. I hope he (they) make it to a happy place. The two of them most certainly deserve it.

That's about it for now. I need to get ready and go to work.
I'm still writing my book. I will finish it. I'm promising myself. I have 2-3 more ideas after this one.
I'm refusing to succumb to the world around me that I hate. I'm trying to learn to bend to it's will, when need be, and make it bend to my will, when need be.
Still fighting.

-80T