Here in the clean light of a new morning, I realized the previous entry makes it appear that I’m in a really bad mental space. Well, I was for a couple of days, but let me assure any concerned loyal readers out there that I’m all right. I started recovering as soon as it became apparent the insurance companies weren’t going to give me any hassles, and I mostly unclenched once the car went into the shop and it felt like some progress was being made. I’m still unhappy the accident happened at all, of course, and that my formerly “like-new” car isn’t so much anymore. I get very attached to my things and I have a really hard time when something happens to them. But the worst of my emotional storm has passed. I just got wound up as I writing last night.

As I mentioned, the wreck was basically the final cue for a major case of the blues that’s been lurking in the wings for a while. A lot of shit has been getting under my skin lately: anxiety over my job and how secure it may or may not be, irritation with all the hysterical political nonsense that’s been going around (honestly, right-wing gun-lovers, no one is coming to take your Preciouses away, not even those nasty hobbitses, er, Democrats), disgust at the growing plague of panhandlers and scummy-looking kids that hang around the train platform near my office (I’ve got a lot of sympathy for the homeless, but enough is freakin’ enough, people!). Disgust with a lot of things, really… the reinvigorated culture wars, willful ignorance and intractable bigotry, ubiquitous marketing, almost-as-ubiquitous graffiti, the lack of consideration people have for their fellow citizens, traffic, road construction that makes traffic worse, the fact that I can no longer find a radio station I really, honestly like, and a host of other complaints both large and small. I’ve been tired and cranky and fed up and feeling like everything went really wrong somewhere. I’ve been feeling, in fact, something like this:

Fortunately, I’m about to get my moment alone, and I don’t even have to shoot anyone, no matter how tempting that might be. Well, alone plus one. The Girlfriend and I are setting off on a little road trip tomorrow, an exploration of southern Utah with a stop in Zion National Park, a detour to Vegas to check in with some friends we’ve not seen in a while, and finally, an outdoor concert starring my main man, Rick Springfield. Yes, I am a dork. No, worse, since I’m traveling over 100 miles to see him… I’m a groupie.

First, however, I’ve got a very important dinner date with the two people who made all this possible. Today is my parents’ 45th wedding anniversary. I’m sure I am no less amazed at how long that seems than they are…