Creekbend Reserve 2005

I have some funny stories that if I ever finish writing them (or if the inspiration to find the humor strikes me again) will be great stories to post. But since I’m not so humorous lately, I suppose I will use this as a ranting tool by default. I’m sure witty essays would be preferred, but my self-imposed exile from the world is about to suffocate me, so I need a creative outlet to express my great dissatisfaction with Life.

Fatigue has ravished my body and soul. Seriously. I’m so tired of being tired. When I’m not working or sleeping or passed out from it all, my overactive mind begins to wander. When I spend any time at all thinking of the state of my personal life, I get depressed. I’m not eating healthy, staying active, getting a good night’s rest, or engaging socially with others. I’ve become so comforted by my own seclusion, I’m borderline recluse. I keep my ringer off so I don’t have to hear my phone, and I rarely return missed calls. One day I will wake up from this sleepy state and realize my friends have left me behind. But knowing this can happen still doesn’t motivate me to change these isolating habits. So I try not to think about the state of my personal life as much as possible.

However, I cannot ignore the fact that my clothes have shrunk and I do not have the resources to invest in a whole new wardrobe. Therefore, I’m starting to pay attention to my nutrition (and at least consider the possibility of physical activity). I’ve adopted a new diet—the Mediterranean Diet—selected primarily because it advocates a daily allotment of wine. [Sidebar 1: I also read an article in WedMD that suggests two glasses of red wine pack 7 grams of fiber…pretty cool, eh?]

I’ve read several different articles about this diet and, while wine (in moderation) is advocated, it’s not conclusive if it’s considered a fruit. Most stipulate a one-glass-daily rule for women and up to two glasses daily for men. I’ve decided that since I weigh about the same as the average linebacker then the two glass rule applies to me. Still no consensus for red or white wine, but I’m trying to plan my diet around red since it packs the highest fiber content.

But this misery is systemic. I do my best to avoid the realization that I have a pathetic life by numbing my nerves with alcohol in the evening and throwing my self into my new job. This is necessary since (1) I still don’t know what my specific job role is, (2) there is a constant threat of head-count reduction within my division, and (3) no job = no money = homelessness is a bigger misery than I think I have now. [Sidebar 2: before the new diet, nightly alcohol intake may have been perceived as borderline alcohol abuse, but now it’s healthy and part of my daily nutrition. That’s the best thing about American medicine, I think.]

Why does my job make me miserable, you ask? Several reasons really: (1) my best friend is a manager of an adversarial division within my company, (2) my boss drives me mad, (3) my coworkers are out to get me, and (4) I could be fired any day.

But enough about this miserable mess today. The wine has finally kicked in and drowsiness is seeping into my bones…