Warning. This post has no plot.

I haven't sung in a long time. I'm really not that good of a singer but, in my car, I'm a god. I used to sing a lot. Maybe its a sign of happier days to come. Maybe its a sign of not wanting to sit in my car and think.

I used to be very into music. I play guitar and had aspirations to be in a band. Not that I could have, mind you, but I wanted to. Over the years I attempted it a few times but I rarely had any support to "follow my bliss" so to speak. I can't really blame her for that though. I know I made the decision to get married and support us with a good job. It'd be unfair to do otherwise.

But, even so, what would I have done otherwise? Honestly, I'm not that good. Maybe good enough to play rhythm in a good band or a studio player but I wasn't going to be Keith Richards (turns out I'm allergic to heroin and being dirty...who knew). In reality I was probably saved from years of struggling as a musician only to have my dreams crushed and spend the rest of my years jaded.

OK, so it didn't turn out all that different anyway... Just kidding. I don't expect I'll be a musician even now that things have changed (are changing). I think all the years I spent resenting not being able to play music were really just misdirected frustrations about my marital problems. I'm not a fan of the idea that all mental problems are a manifestation of some deep=seeded misery. Some people are just nuts.

I don't know that I can blame my hypochondria on her. I don't know that I should. I know that I feel better lately but, then again, I've been feeling well for quite some time. Maybe I'm just distracted. Hypochondria seems to thrive you you have nothing better to do.

And now I'm rambling.


Hey, I ain't never coming home.
Hey, I'll just wander my own road.
Hey-hey, I can't meet you here tomorrow - no, no.
Say goodbye don't follow -
Misery so hollow.

-Alice In Chains