It's time for a good old fashioned post, like back in the day. Contrary to what you might think, literary exhibitionism and all, I do all this first and foremost for myself, as way of processing my life. In the 21st Century, blogging is the fist draft of history, and doing ones own autobio in real-time is a powerful way of controlling and making sense of the personal narrative. I'm glad if it brings some light into the reader's world, but the main thing for me is pursuing my life goals; truth, presence, appreciation, flow.

Today was my first day working in our brand-spankin' new Humboldt County office, located in Old Town Eureka. It's going to be good, a really nice feeling. Currently it's somewhat empty as a space, but the potential is palpable. It feels like the beginning, pun intended, of a new chapter.

My life for the past few months has been -- more than my life already was -- consumed by my job. Workaholism runs in my blood, and it really does have all the lovely features of addiction. Patterns, void-filling, debilitation of other life-aspects, the whole gamut. If I really were a devotee of the bottle, say like Charles Bukowski (we should be so lucky), this would be the part where I'm haunting some seedy bar where I get a few pints for free in the morning, and the bartender lets me sleep away the afternoons on a pile of cardboard boxes in the alley out back.

But I'm not writing epics of the lush life, and so the outcomes are different. Arguably favorable. And yet I wonder where this leads. Conventional career success feels more and more like a potential bait-and-switch. As the hippy engineer used to say, "don't get a job, get a life."

That's not necessarily the case with my scene now: the suit isn't really growing around me, and as the extreme compression of the last few months begins to lift I'm sure that better perspectives will prevail. Still, I miss being footloose, a ramblin' man. There are so many parts of me that have been boxed in storage, I start to wonder if they're really any good anymore, and what else might emerge instead.

I look around and it feels lately like my cohort is on the rise. Partners, children, careers, creations; the people I know and love are kicking ass and taking names. It's great, but some part of me is unnerved by the way our momentum is carrying us in separate individualistic directions. I've had more than one conversation lately about how nobody wants to end up hunkered down in the suburbs, but sometimes it feels like in absence of some better plan, that might be where we're headed. Not to the white picket fence necessarily, but definitely into something differently settled, and a far sight from various bohemian ideals.

Not sure whether there's really anything to be done here. One of the downsides of living life in the long tail is the lack of collectively-binding causes, passions, pursuits or beliefs. Friends have things in common, shared history and compatible nature, but in a world of easily-maintained loose ties, making strong connections work seems not only hard, but also somewhat passe, embarrassing.

This morning the sunlight was dark and golden, filtered through smoke from the inland wildfires blowing out to sea. Good sunsets too, Southern Californian. It's a very summery kind of light, a changed atmosphere, watching the highway lines tick away behind me in the convex blind-spot side-mirror of my beleaguered little pickup. It feels good, and also a little lonesome. I'm not in my nature a solitary man, but the house is kind of empty these days, so I find myself talking to the dogs a lot. You don't have such great conversations with dogs, worthy and lovable distractions though they may be.

So I washed my car, got some slices of pizza, took a stroll and drank a beer on the beach.

I suppose I am kinda lonely, but I don't feel like complaining. It's my own little nest I've built over the past couple years, the home-base I came out here wanting, and when I really let myself reflect, I'm proud of that. Soon again I'll be venturing out, both in world-wise travel (planned) and in coming-out-of-shell personal growth and exploration (hoped for). With any luck, having a solid base will be a source of power, greater freedom.

It takes time, space and energy. Life is holy and every moment precious, and I need to start listening to the universe again, looking people in the eye, hearing music, finding the moments to start unpacking those boxes, unwrap the sweet-smelling mothballed passions of yesteryear and maybe even discover something new in the offing.

For now I'm bittersweet happy, content to wonder what will happen next and secure enough in all my good luck so far that no matter what it can't be all that bad. I've got a life-item todo list a mile long, and I intend to continue getting out from under the weight.