06 March 2008

Deepening Winter Doldrums

In March... yeah, I know.

I'm sure that many other people have had these kinds of stretches, but I'm pretty much in the middle of the doldrums right now, mostly because I'm feelin' a lot like Charlie Brown looking at the football.

I won't go into a whole lot of details at present, but suffice it to say that lately, any news I've had has been bad. I've had a close relative pass recently, seen opportunities go without having any power to influence them positively, computer problems, and work has become a quagmire where I'm getting assigned a completely new process that's so unknown that I may or may not be legally liable for mistakes I (or OTHERS) may make, much less dealing with coworkers who seem to want nothing more than to throw me under the bus.

It's been depressing to say the least. The football is right there, but I haven't kicked it in the longest time and at some point, the question starts... is that damn football even kickable?

The worst part is that I have had time off of work recently. Ordinarily, that's a good thing, but it seems like all this time that I've been taking off has helped only minimally. And considering how days off are are a precious resource that is finite, it kind of makes me feel as if I've failed even that.

Failure, especially on a wide-ranging scale, sucks. It certainly humbles a person quite a bit. It's times like this that a vacation seems warranted, but without any money to do so and a winter that doesn't want to end, I can't imagine where the hell to go for it. Anyone got a closet to hide in for about seven days or so? Or some spare optimism to send?

Latest MSTing is still coming along, and work continues. Still no official timeline, but we certainly seem close enough that saying "by the end of March" wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination.

1 comment:

Sam Doug said...

Dear Megane 6.7, and Zoogz

This is the Placid Jack Acid.

I went to Iraq and came back. I went for a goodish wander since, and well:

I want back in the e-club, sirs.

Yours, Jack