jennings rampage

A guy like me should wear a warning.

I know, I know; I just can’t be bothered to care. To put it in HR terms, perhaps I’m being too task-driven, rather than goal-oriented. Putting something here every day was a task, something to which I gave little thought and struggled to finish before the midnight deadline. And looking back on the past month or so, it’s a pretty dry read, certainly nothing I’d point at and say, “hey, I’m closer to my goal of being an unmistakably amazing writer.” I declare the experiment a failure, and officially grant myself permission to write here only when I’m motivated or inspired.

Or if I really want to fail, I’ll set myself to writing morning pages.

And if you happen to have a barometer of my mood, or better still, a two-dimensional chart to track its movement over time, you should get out the marker with me making a frowny-face and set it low on the mercury. I’m reluctant to pin my mood shift on anything in particular, but there’s a part of me that feels especially jumpy, disrespected, and exiled. But life is good, work is fine, I’m turning a corner in my improvisation and direction, so I refuse to lose perspective.

I’ve made arrangements to have the J-RMPAGE towed to my apartment, where it will likely sit until I can find the title so I can junk it or sell it for nothing. My new unnamed car needs two things urgently: a new fuel filter and a name. I’m finally unpacking and organizing my room; tonight I should have my library back, I’ve already sorted all the clothes and packed the fat and warm ones away, and soon I’ll completely lose the serial killer vibe. I’m having a small American Idol viewing get-together tonight where snarking is expressly forbidden until the commercial breaks, under penalty of torture. I’m playing in a multi-table satellite poker tournament tomorrow night for the North Carolina state poker championship on Saturday, and I’m not quite sure why — I’d love to play the state championship, but there’s no way my chops are sharp enough for such a big tournament. But either way, I’m back playing poker, but the new rule is I can only play for stakes I’d feel comfortable describing as “laundry money,” as opposed to last September (the lost month), where I put about $10,000 into play overall. Mister Diplomat rehearsals have been incredibly fun for the past month or so, our performances are turning around, and while we’ll miss Porter, I’m really excited about my team again. Tony’s Pony is really making me proud, they’re producing some improvisation that’s both playful and humanly recognizable. I joke that they’re the #2 team, but they’re my favorite.

Right. So, no perspective will I be losing.