Blog
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Work Anxiety
Made some mistakes at work today. Have this overwhelming umbrella of paranoia and anxiety over this job. Everything is perfect and the job loves me but I keep getting this feeling that something is going wrong. Something is going to come up. Someone is going to say, “I’m sorry but we have to boot you from the project. You are just not working out anymore.”
I even feel that I am not giving 100%. So much going on at work and more going on at home. I’m overtired and wore out everyday. It’s like I work 24 hours a day.. anyway.. that’s my speal..have a good day..
P.S. Check out my new post in City of Zombies later.. I haven’t written it yet but today is the day. I don’t know if they are going to head to grandma’s or the safehouse.. maybe grandma is the safehouse or in the safehouse.. something.. should be interesting
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Wow, I have an anxiety problem
Super stressed today. Started work with an application down issue. I took control of the issue and now have the responsibility of making sure a good solution is presented. I’ve run through the last week wondering if I’m fooling everyone about my skills as a programmer. How do you convince yourself you know what your doing? I’ve got everyone else convinced, even though I worry they can see right through me. That last thing is so contradictory. How can I convince everyone but be scared they aren’t? Isn’t the beginning a confident statement followed by crap? My girls continue to aggravate me. Like on on a tightrope, above a bridge and it swings wildly in the wind. I have this tiny voice in my head telling me to be calm and respectable to my children. They will remember the worse moments but then, Big Sarge takes over and barks his orders. It’s insane.. its like two people arguing over who can be the better parent. I would rather have this argument with my wife. Second, third or fourth.. I don’t care.. I’m tired.. I go to bed at 11:30-12 and wake up at 6:30. I can just blame today’s issue on that
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New Posts (Anxiety Journal)
My anxiety is really high today. I don’t know the cause, just know my children make it worse. I heard on the radio someone started writing a journal. This is a public writing blog and I thought what better exercise then writing thoughts that prevent me from being happy. Anyways, I have money and child discipline activities on my mind. The family may move soon so that pressure is growing. “Do I have enough money to move?” Will I have enough money? I need to find a new job. What if they don’t like me? What if my current success is a fluke? What if the new place is worse than this place..
Anyways, post number 1.. I hope it makes me feel better
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The Unfaithful Soldier
Trust is an unfaithful soldier
Built of the heartbreak and pain of others
Commitment is a dream of that soldier
A dream of a dream about the sanity of realistic expectations
Faithfulness is a promise to yourself that you cannot honor
Honor is an object of others and doesn’t belong in a selfish world.
Fear is the loss of trust. A realization that the soldier was real to itself.
A realization that Trust was itself unfaithful.
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Stranded
Stranded in life, pain speaking words of fear in my ears
I stand above the flames of dishonesty and the heat sears
through me like a crooked thief, holding a crooked knife.
Unfortunately, it’s not the fear of death that holds me
but the fear of rejection coming through the doors of my heart. -
First Street
Erik drove the Mustang slowly though the city. The towering steel and glass structures of a post apocalyptic city stared down at him. The dead walked around the car for the most part uninterested in the noise that didn’t smell like food. It still took a long time to move through and it was approaching evening by the time they had reached the last 12-story building.
“Grandma Ann lives on First street. Last house on the left,” said Kali with a smile.
“Of course, last house on the left,” Erik snapped, “it couldn’t be first house right the hell in front of me! I need a beer.” He then reached into his duffel bag and fumbled around till he found one. He opened the warm can and drank it quickly. He then opened the window and hit a passing teenage prom queen with the can. The zombie growled and began toward them but Erik drove away and turned right onto First.
The street began at the base of a large hill
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Creative Block
Facebook and Games are just awful for attempts to write. I’ve got a blog post to write and I spent all day on Facebook and playing games. I just spent the last hour on physics game playing with liquid, solids and gases. Anything to get away from writing, I guess.. My discipline is slipping away. This is a lecture to myself to stop with the distractions and get to work. Speaking of work. I also have a Java project that needs to be done and I’m putting that off too…
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Long Black Train – Rewrite
The netherworld has no cows so the train has no cow catcher. The large outward grill of an earthly steam-powered train is absent but the tall round-edge box on wheels rolls past slowly as the Narcissus’s forest approaches. Above the train and into the night shoots a tall cylinder of white smoke. Behind the smoke stack sits a taller box. Within that box sits the operator. The operator stands half in and half out of this world. A faint flicker of life trapped within a steel prison. Unlike the earthly steam-powered machine this black train runs on the essence of life. This molecular essence of every living being on the train is collected within a steel-walled tender or coal car. This car had a set of ledges, one on top and the second two feet above the train wheels. The ledge on the top was merely decorative but the one on the bottom was two foot wide, barely enough room to walk across. To help the engineer aluminum hand holds were placed at body length along both sides of the car. In the center of the car, painted on both sides, was ‘Spirit of the Dead’. The engineer stayed in the next car, a passenger car. The car was black, with windows gray from soot from the engine chimney. The soot contains the remains of the evil in men’s heart. These remains forever pushed into the atmosphere of the netherworld. Within the gray windows and inside the passenger car sits a steel chair and upon the chair is chained the engineer. Like Charles Dickens fabled protagonist the chairs bind the engineer to his earthly sins till his penance is paid. Following behind the engine was hundreds of caged cars. The cars wooden planks shake in small metal slots as the train moves forward over its iron track.
You know about the Train, and the Engineer but inside the wooden train cars, within the think film of the spirits of the dead lay the living. Being alive in the Netherworld is not supposed to happen but it does. On the living world it was compared to a ‘dime a dozen’. In this world it is an advantage and a curse. The floor of the train car is slick with ethereal goo. The large wooden sliding doors are closed leaving only bars of early evening light. The stranger lays unconscious on the wooden floor of the train car. The thin film from the floor covering his face, arm and shoulders. It hides the dark uniform with the red sewed badges on his long arms. His attractive features, the sculpted chin and the military hair cut. Above his chin and past his sharp nose hides two beautiful blue eyes, hidden behind heavy lids.
The darkness pressed upon the stranger as he stared upward at the thin strips of light from the moon. The train car rattled loudly and chills danced from the tips of his fingers to the back of his shoulders. The stranger listened to whispers that passed through his ears. The whispers spoke of love lost, love found and life taken but the stranger could see nothing. The physical necessity to his sense of sight and hearing was missing. That was until something thumped upon the top of the car. The light skittered around several objects which began to move above. Then within seconds a large hole was torn from the top of the car. The moonlight fell through to the car floor. Silver forms appeared but quickly disappeared into the darkness. The chill from the strangers shoulders fell downward covering his back, arms and hands. He was paralyzed with fear from the overwhelming invasion of his senses. From the roof of the car the hole was ripped wider till it was wide enough for two men to jump through but it wasn’t a man that sank into the car. From the moonlight the stranger could trace the framework of a large bird. It’s two large feet curled with several large knuckles on three toes. Upon the toes were large triangular claws.