I’ve been managing about one blog entry a week the last few weeks. I guess blogging runs in cycles more or less and this is one of those less times.

I’m never really sure if anyone reads the damn thing so, I don’t worry so much about it. Which is unusual...

...because I actually spend a great portion of my day worrying. I worry about work-whether I have it, if I have it whether I’ll keep it, if I’ll get it done, if I’ll get paid, when I’ll get paid, if I’ll do a good job, if I’ll get there on time, if they’ll be mad if I don’t, what I’m not getting done while I’m at work. I worry about my health-what that pain was, if my blood pressure is too high, if I’m eating right, how much I weigh. I worry about my social life-about getting a girlfriend, about finding a girlfriend, about keeping a girlfriend, if I’ll always be a bachelor, why people don’t call, if I feel comfortable talking to the people who do call, how I come off, how I’m perceived, what I project. If I’m getting things done, if I’m not.

Yes, it’s just a world of worry.

At the end of the day it manages to get me little (other than a few more gray hairs), it’s a habit I’ve so far tried to break myself of (unsuccessfully so) and I keep waiting for that magical day when I will wake up and find myself in some semblance of inner serenity.

Man, if there was one thing I could get for Christmas, that would be it.

In the spirit of that - and the constant struggle to put things in perspective, I post this link, my lame gift to you.