Not Dead, Just Sleeping

I'm really bad at keep up on blogs (obviously).

Life recap -
Moved to Boston w/ Roman.
Roman moved to Florida and lives with my fam.
Got a job walking dogs.
Hung out with These Arms are Snakes for a weekend.
Drove Ceremony on the Converge tour for a week.
Quit my job.
Practice in Salem.
Leaving Tuesday forever.

I'm learning to not be a wreck and trying to right the wrongs of my life. It sucks finding out that you're the asshole (intentionally and unintentionally).

Figuring it out.

Following Through On a Consecutive String of Bad Luck and Poor Decision Making.

Its safe to say that a majority of this, the year of our lord 2008, I have spent in transit. As I write this I'm sitting in the international terminal of Boston's Logan airport. The end of 2007 I moved to Seattle, only to leave shortly afterwards for a short east coast tour, go to Europe, drive across the country for a west coast tour, come back for Canada and the east coast, fly home, fly back, more northeast, record in Boston, fly back to Seattle, move to Boston, east coast, Midwest, Canada, then all three again, now Europe, then the west coast, fly to Florida, boat to Mexico, then fly back to Boston shortly after the new year. It is safe to say that it has taken it's toll. Jobs, relationships, and sanity have all been strained. I love what I'm doing, but to put it bluntly, I need a nap. My life has been whittled down to the barest essentials in order to keep moving which has left me slightly alienated and detached. But hey, them's the breaks.
Wow, the gin blossoms are playing. Pop music has most definitely augered it's way into my psyche. All lyrics are currently on the tip of my tongue and I have to restrain myself from the urge to lip sync. Everything in the airport is mind numblingly homogenized, which could be a deterrent from the angry masses of air traveller's hurling their carry-ons at baggage checkers as they unveil a mass of hidden fees on top of already expensive travels.

As another "hit single," this one I have honestly no idea what it is, plays over "Logan radio;" I mourn the loss of my headphones and pray for an immediate check in. Crossing fingers and hoping not to die in a fiery plane crash or end up on an island that no one else can find with the dharma initiative, I bide my time for gin & tonic to ease my air travel suffering.

Yours truly.