THE MOOD.

I don't get it. I was in the strangest mood yesterday--good strange. It's a mood that rarely visits me anymore, and I'm not sure why it decided to now.

I couldn't have cared less about anything at all yesterday. I wasn't to the point of endangering myself or someone else. I didn't drive with my feet or anything. But I very well could have lost my job, deeply offended a member of the consuming general public, or caused my wife to deck me in the jaw.

It was the type of feeling that is usually drug-induced (I'm assuming...), whereas there is a numbness and consta-smile attributed to it. Nothing at all was making me bristle, which is extremely odd. You see, I like to portray the type of cool individual that lets absolutely nothing get under his skin. But in all reality, I've got somewhat of a quick temper, a loathing and constant stewing for stupidity as I see it, and others would probably describe my daily persona as "grumpy", "cynical", or "always pissed at something". So this feeling that had come over me was obviously something to behold.

If you didn't already know, I work in the service industry--which is a nice way of saying "I deal with assholes everyday." Actually, I sell jackets...and other associated items. But yes, dealing with assholes is a daily occurrence in my profession. This is not only a contributing factor to my bitterness, but probably the root of it. Each day that passes, my employees place wagers on when I am going to snap, and who is going to receive the brunt of my well-thought out "I fucking quit!" exit routine. And sadly, it doesn't include an inflatable airplane slide.

So when I showed up at the store yesterday...whistling, singing, dancing to the muzak...people knew something was awry. I felt drunk, or high, or roofied. I actually had to address my mood to my employees just to cover the fact that I was NOT drunk, high, or roofied (nobody had access to any of my beverages prior to my arrival at work, therefore I dismiss being roofied). Customers would ask their same ol' ridiculous questions, and instead of staring at them, gritting my teeth, taking deep breaths through my nostrils...I laughed it off and answered their dumb questions--admittedly, with a touch of sarcasm though.

I laughed hysterically at non-hysterical things. I danced in front of employees and customers--not trying to be obnoxious, just felt like dancing. I did not bullshit one person the entire day, which is a very rare and gratifying accomplishment at my place of work. I was clear-headed and very aware, not cloudy or "off". If someone drugged me, please do it again.

The "mood" lasted the entire day. It was glorious. And I still can't understand where it came from or what triggered it. Did I have an amazing dream that had me waking up a new person? Was there some sort of residual effects from attending the Willie Nelson concert the night before? Was I just overly pissed that I had to work yet another Labor Day, and my psyche revolted? Did my stress level finally start an inferno and that was how my brain extinguished it? It's hard to say. All I know is, I want more.

Today was a different day. I still maintained a better-than-normal amount of perk, but nothing compared to yesterday. Today was back to reality. Back to fake smiles. Back to eyes that tell customers "My God, you're an idiot". Back to the mundane and the meaningless. Back to not much fun.

But I know that I've got it in me now. I just need to dig deep and harness the energy. And once I've learned to harness that power, I need to control it. Once I have the power and can control it, I've got to use it to fight evil. That's all there is to it.





.

Today.

The humidity seems to be gone. Of course it is 6:30am.

The water droplets on the grass, the morning haze covering the sky, the birds already busy. I step outside to load my fly rods into the car before heading to work and am greeted by a clean, briskness that I haven't felt in months. My cotton t-shirt isn't an efficient insulator for this morning. So I put my fleece on. That's when I smile. Brisk morning, hot coffee, soft fleece.

Let's put in a few hours at the office, then plan our escape. I'm thinking a three o'clock whistle, quick visit to the beer store, then meeting my wife and retriever at the lake in the mountains. Yea, that'll get me through the day.

It's going to be a swell Friday.



.

I Almost Crapped My Pants Today.

I almost crapped my pants today. Literally.

Of course I immediately blame it on my morning commute. Each pothole, acceleration, turn, and brake magnified. Every stoplight seems like time is suddenly going in reverse. It’s been an hour since I left my house this morning – so it’s bound to happen one of these days. Neat, I manage to get behind the one person that decides to try parallel parking for the first time in their life this morning. “Jesus, hurry up!” Don’t lose your cool, man. You need to be concentrating. My toes are curling under and my feet start to go numb. I begin using muscles in my body that I didn’t know existed.

I try not to think about it. Go to your happy place, dude. Fishing. I think about fishing; how I’d love to be out on the water right now, alone, away from everything. The sound of the rushing water, cascading down… Stranded without facilities; bound by chest waders; paperless.

Okay, not helping.

I think of alternatives. A gas station? Man, I don’t know. I’ve been fucked one too many times by thinking that I’m home free at the 7-Eleven. My muscles start to relax the closer I get to the door. My sighs of relief and triumphant smile are suddenly washed away by the door being locked! “Occupied?? Shit! Hurry up, dude! Emergency!”

Or even worse, “Out of order?? Are you kidding me? S’cuse me, sir? Can I use it anyway? I’ll fix it! Shit.”

So no, I’m not going down that road again. I’d just be setting myself up for disappointment and possible disaster.

Okay, so what’s my game plan? We’re almost there….if this MORON would drive! Stay cool. Providing I can actually stand erect once deboarding my car, I’m thinking a swift, steady three and a half block walk to my employer’s front doors. Need to time the crosswalks perfectly so I’m not stopping. I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m walking. Don’t make eye contact with anyone. They’ll know.

Two blocks before, I’ve already got my key in hand, holding it exactly the way that I do when I unlock. I’m prepared.

An employee is waiting for me as I approach the door. When within earshot, I announce as a caution, “I’m two seconds away from shitting my pants.” He realizes the severity of the situation and gives me plenty of room for door unlocking.

Alarm off, briefcase down. My body knows what’s coming. The evil wants out. It wants out now. It can sense a john nearby. It has some sort of evacuational radar. I am actually alert enough to check the paper situation before the sit down. Focused.

The most difficult part is always the unbuckling of the belt accompanied by the simultaneous “pants-drop sit-down”. But it was executed flawlessly. Toes uncurled. Eyes rolling into the back of my head. My entire body quivers. And an over-vocal sigh to release every ounce of tension. It only takes a minute, then normalcy sets in. We did it.

I almost crapped my pants today. Almost.





.

K-Powers, Made in Calipornia

Best fake commercial ever.

enjoy.

Kenny Powers Gets Signed By K-Swiss - watch more funny videos

I heart Kenny Powers.


.

Blog Anxiety.

I can't get my shit straight, blog-wise, and it's turned into a catch 22. I feel like I've got so much to talk about that I need to have other blogs specifically geared towards these thougts (earljive and ramblin earl). But that overwhelms me, feeling like I have to keep up with all three of them. And I just ain't got time for that.

Well, the reality is that maybe ten people read this and it doesn't matter.

So back to basics. Earl's Brain is the only blog from hear on out. There will be a cornucopia of topics, a variety of writing styles due to my mood or alcohol intake at that time, and pictures ranging from beautiful, artistic shots that I'm quite proud of, to action photos of me drunk as hell.

Enjoy.



.

Brand New Rant!

What's up, friends?

So I've been trying to feed my desire to talk about traveling and different excursions that I've been on. It ain't working. I sound like a douche bag. This is on my other blog, Ramblin Earl, not this one. On this blog, I can say fuck and boobs and crap. And I can write while five cocktails deep. On the other one, I sound like a pretentious dildo that is trying to sound like a professional somethingorother in hopes that someone from the fucking Travel Channel will discover me and offer me a billion dollars to travel around and rub it in people's faces.

Bottom line is, I need to write and this is my outlet.

But, ironically, what's on my mind is this whole traveling, writing, somebody please pay me for it thing. I've said it before, I'm not a great writer. I don't have an English or Journalism degree. I tend to write like I think, which is not unintelligent...but it's probably not professional. Adding that to the fact that I don't like working for people makes any sort of dream of writing for a travel magazine or someshit virtually impossible. See? Poor, unprofessional writing.

I tend not to talk about jobs or business or anything like that on this blog. But you know, a lot of us have dream jobs. We spend the majority of our time working a job we're not crazy about just so we can have those few precious moments at home enjoying our house and family and other fun things we have to work to pay for. But I am 100% not content with working for someone else doing something I don't really care about.

I don't really know what that dream job is, though. I see all these TV personalities like Anthony Bourdain and Samantha Brown and I think they've got a pretty sweet deal. They probably do, but they still have to work for somebody. That to me is not dreamy enough.

Ideally, my dream job would revolve around the outdoors, beer, food, music, wine, art, and/or possibly writing. I'm not sure what concoction of those things, but those things. I dig those things.

So lately it's been my life's work to try and figure out how to incorporate these things into a fun, self managed, money making venture for me to embark on.

I have noticed, though, that I am in the minority when it comes to this train of thought. At least within the people that I associate with. No one really even comes close to understanding my stressful desire to make this happen. Make what happen, you might ask? True, I haven't divulged any ideas or solutions in this post...and we're going to keep it that way. Point is, when you think like I think, constantly trying to come up with new ways to incorporate things that you are passionate about with making a living, it truly helps if you have someone to talk to...someone to share ideas, thoughts, and dreams. Not too many of you out there. The majority is content with a solid nine to five, okay benefits, fairly brainless work, and not a lot of fun.

Fair enough. Sometimes I wish I were that way. Being content with my profession is something that I have never felt. I've done the math way too many times...calculating how many hours per year I work, drive to work, prepare for work, drive home from work, stress about work, medicate because of work, and lose sleep from work. I'm not obsessive, just a realist. When I look at the number of hours that I spend doing all of this, it makes me sad. It makes me question why I do it. And it makes me try and figure out a way to make it worth a huge chunk of my life.

Sure, we all go through it. It's a part of life. Everyone's gotta work. I've heard them all. I realize that everyone has to make an honest, responsible living. I am just very particular about the way that I would like to continue making mine.

Okay, that's my speech for this evening. For those of you out there that are passionate about what you do for a living, or even content...I salute you.



.

New Blog

Hey bitches. Haven't been writing much lately due to new financial endeavors on the horizon. Cross your fingers for me. I may yet be able to make my lifelong dream of ditching a real job and doing whatever I want come true.

Anyhoo, got me a new blog set up for readin'. It's all about doing shit. Yep, doing shit. Or as I like to call it, rambling. Going new places, eating new food, fishing new rivers, you know.

The act of rambling and the thought of rambling pretty much consumes me. Instead of working in between four grey walls, catering to the general public (which, trust me, all suck) I find myself day dreaming about going wherever I feel like, doing whatever I feel like.

Rambling, for me, revolves around traveling. Traveling to new or forgotten places and experiencing everything that I can possibly experience. Many times, the travel destination ends up being close to a river, lake, or trail. But sometimes it's just nice to meander across a new landscape, stopping along the way to eat some great food, sample some wine, take some pictures, and meet some new folks. All of that, which is the art of rambling, makes me grin from ear to ear.

So hopefully my new blog will help you get out and do what you can to experience what's out there. Whether you have kiddos or not, whether you live in an "interesting" place or not, or whether you feel consumed by the creeping death that is real life, you should make it a point to ramble around from time to time and see just what the hell is out there.

And if you feel like it, I would absolutely love for others out there to share their ramblings with me. You see, my new blog is not only intended to inspire y'all, but it's meant to motivate me to get out there and not let myself get caught up in all the day-to-day bullshit. I don't really have time for that, so I'm fighting diligently to replace it with fun and adventure. Join me, won't you?

Oh yea, it's http://www.ramblinearl.blogspot.com/.

Please enjoy.



.