Friday, July 27, 2007


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -- Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore -- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door -- Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; -- This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you " -- here I opened wide the door; ---- Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" -- Merely this, and nothing more.

Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-- 'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered -- not a feather then he fluttered -- Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before -- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster so when Hope he would adjure -- Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure -- That sad answer, "Never -- nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee Respite -- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! -- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -- On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore -- Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil -- prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore -- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted -- nevermore!

Monday, July 16, 2007

Health, Work & Hell

I am sitting here at my computer typing away on a mother-hugging press release for one of my clients...I wasn't able to get to it today, and like a jackass, I brought it home with hopes to do it tonight. When I get home, I don't want to write a damned release. I want to hang out with my family. I find myself asking the question, "What the Hell am I doing?" 2007 has got to be the absolute shittiest work year of my life. From 1/3/07 until now, my work life has been absolutely non-stop. I am so damn tired and burned out. I just got back from a vacation in Hawaii, and it didn't help calm me down at all. Once I got back in the office, all I has was more work to do and it was piling up everyday.

I still have this damn cough that I cannot get rid is the same cough that I got back in January...after a million different drugs, I still can't shake it. It has absolutely crippled me...literally. I coughed so hard, I blew my stomach open and had to in for surgery to have it taken care of. The thing that pisses me off the most is that I couldn't take any time off to rest and recover from my battle with Bronchitis, flew and Laryngitis. I just fought through it, and it landing me in the O.R. Thats just f'ing great!! The cough is starting to hurt my side, and I am worried that I am going to give myself another hernia. My teenage insomnia has returned, so I am getting roughly 3 hours of sleep a night, and it is killing me. All I do is worry now about work and whether I can keep doing it at the pace I'm going. I have been busting my ass for 7 months now, and I'm tired. I'm so burned out and I feel like what has made me successful in the past is no longer a part of me. I am just a shadow of what I used to be. I'm not fun, happy...myself anymore. I am just a shell of the old me. Work has just annialated me and my spirit. Every morning, I wake up and dread the day...I just want to sleep and get better. I never have understood the power that stress and no sleep can have over a person. I feel like I am in a deathgrip, with the life slowly being squeezed from me.

It is the depressing time like this that make me so mad and go back to the dark times. Dark thoughts fill my mind, and I hate everything around me. Don't worry, I'm not running for the razorblades, but the world just seems to be closing around me, and I can't breath. Everyday, I fight back the tears and bile that rises in my stomach. Is this what an ulcer feels like? Is this what a heart attack feels like? With every passing second, I feel like I am on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Sometimes I can feel my heartbeat inside my head, and I think I am going to pop. Anxiety attacks are common-place now, and I think everyone is out to ensue I fail at everything I do. Time is my enemy in that there just isn't enough of the damn thing in the day to get everything accomplished. This isn't a call for help, just a blank page for me to rant and gnash my teeth.

This is what Hell must be...sitting here in front of my computer at 1:00 am, literally dying inside while my wife and son sleep. I will wake up in a few hours and go into work with a feeling of impending doom surrounding me all day long. My eyes are heavy, and all I want to do is sleep...I could sleep for a week straight...if I had the time. One day soon, I think I am going to have a nervous breakdown, and lose myself. Work has changed has scarred me...ruined me mentally and physically. At times when I finish a project, I should be happy and excited to move on to the next project...but I can'tfeel that satisfaction anymore.

As I sat in my rental car in Madison, Wisconsin last month at the culmination of the biggest PR campaign I have ever done, and one of the biggest stressors ever in my life, what should have been a time to kick it and celebrate that the beast was dead, I sat all alone at an intersection with storm clouds brewing around me...crying...sobbing really that my life was in the state that I was in...not Wisconsin...but a state of complete sorrow, sadness and solitude.
Now here I am putting off work so I could post a quick entry on my killer blog.