Feeling burnt out does not make you beautiful
Tuesday night. I need a vacation. No, I know you think you know what I mean, but I really need a vacation. I need to get away from work, away from here, away from all of the negative emotional stuff that's pervasive in my current life, and escape somewhere that I can be happy and carefree, if only for a few weeks. I think that my vacation spot must also provide for the possibility of having someone around that I can pay to massage my muscles into submission because, at this very moment, my shoulders are holding my ears and neck hostage and I'm afraid they're serious this time.
I also need to get myself to a game at Petco Park. I love baseball because it encapsulates everything that is right and good about the world. Clean, fresh air (those teams that play under a dome should be banished from the league), happy little kids in their Little League uniforms pressing up against the fence, trying to get their heroes' autographs, and the sweet sound of the flags blowing in the breeze. I missed Spring Training this year, as those who've been reading more than a few weeks will remember. I haven't missed Spring Training in years, and I think it's contributing to my general malaise of late. Baseball is part of my DNA, it flows through my veins, carried along with the other essential elements of life. I need to catch a game, or possibly two, and remember what sheer, unrestrained joy is.
You know, I knew that I didn't have anything important to say when I started this post, and yet I persisted in writing anyway. I should have paid attention to my first instinct. Important lesson learned.