Do You Grok?

Well...

Yesterday was a pretty shitty day. Not a whole lot went right back at work, and though it wasn't busy it wasn't quiet. It was boring. Then again even when it's exciting it isn't interesting. There were more problems which are symptomatic of working with your family. More rifts and divisions, differences of opinions and fissions in moral fiber. It wasn't fun. It simply reminded me that I rarely feel better at the end of a workday then I felt when I started.

But then again there were those things which reminded me it's not important how much you're up at the end of the third quarter, but if you're in the lead at the end of the game.

By 5:00 P.M. I'd been in three arguments, a near fistfight, been mocked, ignored, and basically abused. I'd collected my daily parking ticket from the Fair Lawn PD, my credit card number had been stolen and someone was charging random things to my account, I felt like hell in general. My kid brother was stirring shit up at work, and my father was siding with him even though we both knew the kid was wrong. A long list of employees had a longer list of complaints. One of my managers was out and the guys filling in were not pulling their weight. My father was doing his best to lock me out of decisions which I have become the only one capable of making...and the results were so disastrous that it was making even him a little bit nervous. I was still in the early phases of righting a month's worth of wrongs, and not exactly making brilliant progress.

It was one of those rare days that saves me the trouble of beating the hell out of myself.

By 7:00 P.M. I was on my way south to do a radio show I didn't really feel like doing. I actually considered for a moment calling out, but I haven't been the one to call of a show in nearly two years. I didn't plan on starting then.

I was ripping down the parkway listening to the same song over and over again and somewhere between Exit 155 and Exit 129 I realized what a beautiful day it was.

I have a job. A good job. It's a lot of work, not very rewarding, and certainly not very glamorous. But I like it...it's very "me."

I have friends. Not many, certainly not as many as I used to. Most of them are dicks, but then again so am I.

I have a place to live. A nice place. I've got a real kitchen to cook in so I don't have to order out every night, a backyard to BBQ in so I can actually invite people over more, and a driveway to park in so I don't have to get anymore of those god damn parking tickets.

I have a history, a past. There are people I used to see that I don't, things I used to do that I can't, and places where I would go that I won't. For the first time ever there are significant people in my life that I no longer see. Some who have died or moved away, others who I've simply lost touch with. There are things and places that I have loved that I don't need anymore. They served their purpose, and now they're empty to me. They've found someone else. I have a past which means that at some point I had a future, and gives me pause enough to realize that I may just have one yet again.

So when I arrived in New Brunswick and marched into the WRSU Studio I was feeling pretty damn good. We didn't plan out our show we just hung around and bullshit till it was time to go on the air, and then once we were on we just kept rolling with it. It was, by far, the best show Corey and I have ever done. It was right up there with the best shows Matt and I ever did. It was interesting, it was funny, and most of all it was fun.

When I arrived where I was going I felt a million times better then when I had left home, and when I walked out of that studio last night I felt a million times better then when I had walked in. I don't remember most of the ride home, I was thinking out loud and writing in my head and just having a grand old time.

I'm not sure how I did it, and I don't really remember any of it, but I know that at some point I got off the Parkway and a few hours later ended up outside of the bus yardwhen I'd really intended to go home.

I stood their for a few minutes thinking...and smiling.

You see, I've always known this, but I've never been able to put it into words. Something Corey said last night set it right for me, he said (with little malice) that I was "dishonest" because I can say two things at once, because I can put something out there toy with it, take it back, and put it back out there again meaning something completely different. Or something like that. And last night standing outside the bus yard I found a new one.

How you get there is not nearly as important as where you end up, but sometimes how you get there is the most interesting part.

Grok?