2004-08-26 - 9:35 a.m.

Like a wounded animal, I'm crouched defensless in my cubicle corner this morning. Of the last 60 hours, I've work 44 of them. Even I have to abandon my casual demeanor towards working hard and admit that maybe, just maybe, that's a bit too much.

My mouth is dry, my face is numb...

My typical day as of August 26th...

Cell phone alarm blares a rediculous tune, like a bare knuckle punch to my brain, forcing me to roll out of bed around 8:15ish...

Fight the campus traffic, dabble in road rage, climb the same four flights of stairs (exactly 88 steps).

During the day I'm collared shirt, black shoes, coffee (black), marketing reports, CD-ROM virtual tours, advertising efforts, agenda crashing, boss pleasing, campaign creating, and clock watching.

When 4:45 rolls around, I'm breathing a sigh of relief. 88 steps pass much quicker on the way down then on the way up. The click clack of my black dress shoes soon gives way to the radio in my car. My only solstace from this rediculous 9am-3am schedule... my music.

Arrive home at 5:10ish... fetch a piece of fruit or cereal from the kitchen, discard dress shoes and work attire. Relax for 15-20 minutes reading a book or watching TV.

Then, depending on the day, get ready for the YeeHaw, spitting, swearing fools at Cody's -or- get ready for the posh, holier-than-thou, arrogant crowd at Athena. Serve Jim and Cokes or Martini's till the merciful announcement of last call around 1:15. Cleanse the bar, cleanse my soul, count the days wages, head home around 2:45.

Come home, wash, rinse, repeat.

On a more pleasent note, I have two tickets to Ryan Adams, two tickets to REM, and I'm in the process of securing two tickets to Wilco.

Baby steps.

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