NP: Trey Gunn Band, The Joy of Molybdenum (CD)

Lost a pair of sunglasses Sunday at the Fire game, then lost my cool about some of the events contained therein a bit later. Sorta ended up wrecking my Monday. Not the sunglasses, which I liked, but were already a little scratched up, but as usual, there was an "incident" with security in Section 8, and the awfully predictable outrage from people who have no idea what they're talking about. The stupid part is that I'm letting half a dozen people on an Internet message board get to me, but it may be part of that whole fragile psyche phase I'm going through right now.

Hopefully, two or three hours of motivation yesterday will help right the ship. I blasted out the new, improved résumé, and feel pretty good about that. Typically, it's been about every fourth week that I hit the wall with regard to figuring out just what the hell I'm doing with my life, and I'm a little disturbed that it came around in the rotation again so soon. I've gotten tired of people telling me how well I've been dealing with underemployment, and how it sounds like I'm really doing what I love, and all that shit.

It's been hard. It's been one of the most trying periods of my life since high school, and the frayed edges are becoming more and more apparent by the minute. Meanwhile, the economy and the job market are apparently turning around. Great, now where's my damn job?

In the midst of all this is the vague notion that I might actually be able to support myself primarily by playing music. I don't know exactly how Saturday night fits into that, because I made okay money on the solo show, but the turnout was, in my mind, disappointing. Of course, that may have been a function of a single person not showing up, or perhaps several single persons not showing up, because if rock and roll can't get me laid, what hope is there?

I'm kidding about that. Sort of. And now I'm probably subjecting myself to more of the pornspam comments that I just cleaned off the site. Joy.