NP: Muse, Absolution

For someone who purports to have risen above two decades or so of social ineptitude, I can still make a hash of things pretty well when I set my mind to it. Or maybe when I don't set my mind to it. Maybe I'm just not giving these things enough attention.

I don't know. I just seem to be making a mess of things lately, and if I leave it vague like that, it wouldn't surprise me if more than a few people think I'm talking about them. What can I say, it's a gift. I'm not going to do anyone the disservice of a broad public apology, because that's exactly the kind of "one size fits all" attention to my friends that gets me in trouble in the first place.

Throw in the sudden plunge into gadgetry, and there's this bizarre sense of fleeing from actual human relationships, and that kind of scares me. On some level, I know this is the cumulative effect of one particularly dumb move on my part, a dash of buyer's remorse on the big-ass TV and the withering lack of turnout at Saturday's Diver show, and I'll get over it, but a light at the end of the tunnel doesn't always mitigate the notion that I am, in fact, in a tunnel.

As if that weren't enough, the claim that my personal space is pseudo-organized that I made before is the kind of wishful thinking that you get when you're posting at 3am and don't take the time to, oh, I don't know, spin your chair around and see all the boxes of stuff piling up behind you. So I've got that not-insignificant project to deal with, two or three more loads of laundry, and barely a night of free time between now and my brother's wedding. I'm hoping a long weekend in San Diego will be just what the doctor ordered, but if I rely too heavily on that thought, it's going to come up short and I'll still feel like I need a vacation when I get back.

In other words, it must be Monday, right?