Skrowerif the Fugnificent


A dull 4th of July weekend indeed. Hmph.

Thanks go to anyone who bothered to read my last post. It was long in the tooth but I didn’t care. It’s good to remember, and I feel it’s a story I find myself recalling out-loud a lot, so I wanted to get it out and published so I could stop retelling it. The few responses I got from that post were positive, and I want to thank you guys. I’m considering making a section here that’ll have stories just like that, a “rolling autobiography” of sorts. I have stories, as does everyone, but if I could post the stories that illuminate the definition of who I am and where I’m from then maybe, just maybe, someone out there will know me and understand me better.

Memory is the curse of the higher-order mammals.

On a more recent note, I went out “drinking” last night. A friend of mine twisted my arm into going downtown, which we did, but after spending 20 minutes driving the distance of one block in 6th-and-Red-River gridlock, we shucked the idea and ended up at The Texas Showdown. Had a pitcher of beer, good beer, from [Live Oak Brewery], based here in town. Well, actually, my friend had the pitcher, and I had half a pint before I was overbuzzed to the point of questionable constitution. Her fears about me were confirmed: I’m a damned lightweight. I swear, by summer’s end, I’m going to drink a whole damned bottle of beer and not need to puke. Hmph.

Got back to Mojo’s and had myself a mug of coffee and some good chatter with some other folks (I could finally hear again), and got sobered enough to drive home.

Friday, though, was a different story altogether. I woke up in a funk. A slump. Crick in my neck, head hurt like hell, and my worldview was mighty small. Just didn’t feel like doing much of anything. I had plans to go downtown to see the fireworks, but I just sat on the Mojo’s porch and watched the world go by. Left for home early, took a Xanax to calm my chest, and waited for bed.

Sunday, today, wasn’t much different. I’m just in a slump. I think I’m getting burned out on this whole programming-as-a-hobby thing. I love doing it, I feel the drive to finish my website engine but, fuck, if I can’t ignore the world long enough, if I can’t pay attention to my code, I get so lost. Programming at Mojo’s is a bad idea these days. The section of code I’m working on filters SQL queries based on the permissions of the current user. Works, mostly, but I’m at a point where the code almost feels repetitive and it’s kind of intimidating the amount of work I have to do to make it work right.

Called my mother for the first time in a good while tonight. Was good to talk. Told her I’m planning on getting out of Austin for a few days and I’m coming to visit her in Texarkana this weekend. She was happy to hear that. I’m gonna see if I can pull somebody along with me for the weekend. I need to get away for a bit. Seriously.

Tired at 31. This is so wrong. Does anyone else feel that way?

Published by Shawn

He's just this guy, you know?