It's two steps forward, one step back. I've made it back to the old homestead and have gotten this project out the door (a rather big site) that's been eating my brain and soul for the past couple months. I got locked into a cycle of grinding it out, which can be effective in the short run, but yields diminishing returns over time. I did about ten weeks with no weekends or days off save two for thanksgiving and two for Christmas.

Workaholism is in my DNA (dad and his famous 90 days straight in the oilfields, mom and her neverending string of projects, etc) but this was not the way I like it; too disorganized and haphazard. Too much struggling. The most important thing is to stop struggling. Stress-dreams and exhaustion don't help anyone out.

However, we did get it done, so people are happy and that's a win, and as it was at the same a rather spectacular failure in terms of process, there's a lot to be learned. Blowing it is how you get smart, so I've got that going for me too.

And of course, with this weight lifting, everything else bubbles up like an over-active bottle of orange crush.

Mark reminded me of this quote the other day:

bq. “innocence must die, if we are ever to begin that journey toward that greater innocence called wisdom.”

I feel kind of stuck in the middle there. Innocence is dead, but wisdom has yet to arrive. I've been having a lot of anxiety lately about how life seems to be moving in a direction of dispersion, people all going their separate ways, spreading out over the map and settling down. Even though I'm part of the problem here (maybe because I am), this makes me sad.

It seems like a ridiculous cliché, but I think I've always subconsciously thought my grown-up life would be like living on some kind of commune. Back to my roots!

This seems rather unlikely, though. Ridiculous when I say it. Nobody really wants to live on some weird compound, including me -- or at least not until after the Red Dawn -- but I think there are aspects of that life that make sense to hold onto. I mean, really what I want is some kind of community, some kind of extended notion of family.

We like to joke around, me and my guy pals, that "part of becoming a man is watching your dreams die." It's a less-true, more bravado and sarcasm-laden riff on theme of that quote about innocence. For better or for worse (worse) I seem to be laboring without dreams of late, dithering on the doorstep of wisdom.

Can I consciously improve my life? Can dreams be reborn? Will I catch up on my sleep and energy deficit? Will I make any progress with my new years goals beyond flossing? Only time will tell.