Farther Than It Seems

I have worries to give to the sea.

We can walk dear, the pier is farther than it seems

Avett Brothers - At the Beach

It's almost 2:00 in the morning as I type this. Felt ready to collapse a couple hours ago and got a second wind. Been working through a Dante's Hell of revisions on a design project tonight (and last night and the night before, clients rapping, rapping at my chamber door).

Been feeling raw lately. Nerves on edge. Always feeling at the verge of something. Eyes getting glassy at song lyrics, movie trailers, blogs I read or the look of people's eyes on the sidewalks.

Not really sure why, either.

Been working my ass off lately. Had some life changes as far as work goes. I started working with an ex-business partner of mine and it was easy to see from the get-go that we've both grown and changed and are in a better place now (well, I guess I mean "me" more than "we") than we were years ago. Work is going well though we'd both like things to be busier. More insane. That tornado in a tea-cup that the advertising world is known for.

It'll happen. There was a bit of a social hiccup with business and the election outcome. That's not just an opinion of mine, it's backed up on the reaction of cold calls and other business owners, believe me.

Getting cold outside. Starting to hate even going out in the mornings to start the engine of my truck and let it warm up before I drive the kids to school or my own dragging ass to work.

Gonna get even colder soon.

I woke up this morning to find Brian Keene had taken an informal poll about whether or not people had the sensation that something big and/or bad is about to happen.

Knowing Brian, I had an idea he would do this. That feeling was something we had recently talked about on Thanksgiving.

I've had that feeling for about the last six years or so. It's a pressure about to give way. It's the hiss of a big wave cresting... the one you just know is going to drop a sledgehammer on the beach and shotgun spray the sand, the air, the night sky with saltwater diamonds a mile wide. It's a tidal wave waiting in the wings. It's an unnamed perfect storm brewing in the shadows of the warm islands.

It's the unknown.

I walk the city streets by my office, going to Central Market to grab a styrofoam cup of soup or a foil wrapped sandwich and the people I pass by have chips of granite in their eyes. They've all gone hard, and not city hard, much worse. I don't think many of them know the reason why. 

Just walking past them, you feel a cold breeze, even on days when the sun still shines warm upon your skin. There's a tension in the air, a collective holding-your-breath type of vibe I don't much like. It sets me on edge and makes me cautious wherever I go.

I've joked recently... quite often, actually... every time a minor event takes place. Earthquakes in Maine. New Jersey. Vancouver. Hurricane Sandy.

I've joked "well, the end is coming in about a month now, so we should be seeing a lot more of this." The end of the world should be coming up, according to those old Mayan transcribers. December 21. My brother's birthday. My former anniversary.

Oh, the irony.

I don't know. I don't subscribe to the theory it'll be the end of the world then. I think we're maybe ushering into an era of change and growth and perhaps the death of a certain type of thing we've come to know and be familiar and comfortable with.

I don't know. I suppose none of us really does.

But what I do know is I'm weary. I'm feeling a bit haggard and not in a good Merle sort of way.

I know the only constant is change. Damned to hell, I know that.

I know winter is on its way.

I know this year the winds smell funny.

I know the look in people's eyes isn't going to go away any time soon.

I know there are lots of worries of mine I'd like to give to the sea, but damned to hell, that pier seems so very long.