Work, Music, Steve

2003-02-28 - 3:44 p.m.

I feel good, I knew that I would.

Bosslady got me drunk. She didn't make me feel better about work, but she made me realize that I'm not supposed to. My abusive relationship with my employment comes from trying to put a square block in a round hole. "Do what you love; love what you do" only works when doing what you love. Forcing the second part of the statement can't happen.

I'm a poser. I downloaded a program that allows me to mix music files dj style. I made my first mix cd and I'm completely enamored by it. As proud of it as I am though, I still don't feel like it's as respectable as being able to do it with records. I can take as long as I want to make the mixes perfect, listening to the same 8 measures over and over and over til I get it right. Real dj's like Fatboy Slim, or Andy Smith, or Gostu can do it on the fly. Practicing that doesn't seem like a commitment I can make. I have much respect for what they do, but faking it on the 'puter lets me pick the songs, so fake it I will do.

I've started talking with my cousin Steve again. I'm psyched because we haven't had that much interaction since we were sitting at the kids table for Thanksgiving. He's an interesting character that apparently has a lot of things in common with me (or vice versa, since he's older). I'm wrestling with whether visiting him would be a good idea. My wanderlust is kicking up again, but I don't want to go to NY, and I just went to Florida, so South Carolina seems like a good compromise. Granted, I have no idea what I'd do there, and an invitation hasn't actually been extended, and I'm broke, and, and, and... Maybe I'll just send him some cd's.

It's Friday, it's payday, I only have two hours of work to go and one of them is my lunch break. Things are great in dugland.