Racing towards the finale

As I type, I am racing past the unfinished draft of yesterday's post. There is no time for past melancholy. I'm on a move now. Filled with the spirit. Flush with a decided sense of competence.

I'm confident I can meet my deadlines. Confident that, at least for a day, I won't be flattened by a new round of criticism from my bosses. I have had challenges, unforeseen difficulties; I have met them. Why? Cuz I am a somewhat capable human!

I'm manic. I called Colin to go jogging later. I will consider recreational drug use. I will feel great until bed time. I'll put off sleep for as long as I can.

Then, just before bed (probably after Rachel has fallen asleep on my lap) I will descend into my underlying stress. I will note the shoulder tightness that is still there as I type through my high. The constant state of vulnerability I can't shake. I'm living and dying in the present right now. But the future. The future is terrifying.

Better in print

I've long known that I am better in print than I am in person. I pen touching love notes that deftly ignore the fact of my lousy loving. I email words of advice and wisdom omitting all the ums and uhs of my speech that usually discount any impression of worldliness. And when I write a punchline, I can appear timely and sharp. If only the reader suffered like Rachel through my every iteration.

In an age of constant confession and endless documentation, I am still best suited by inauthenticity. I spin when no one is looking. I edit when no one is reading. I bear false witness for the sheer craft of it.

But when the time comes for actual speaking. In the flesh, out loud, right here and now speaking. I am flummoxed. I spit out ums. I take long pauses. I dart my eyes to find my misplaced thoughts. I appear to lie when telling the simplest truths. 'Yes,' I finally cough, 'I have completed that, um, project. Can I, uh, send you an email about the details?'

Enter the jolly chump

And so it begins. My interminable soliloquy. Occasionally artful, often ungrammatical. An exploration in pointless elitism, unjustified sarcasm, and wanton use of semicolons.

Due to Google Alerts, I can never spell my employer correctly in this blog. Due to incompetence, I will frequently misspell other wods as well. Imaginary reader, please forgive me these sins. I'm still new at all this.