This week, I am not really digging how I have been feeling lately. I’m in a bit of a rut; at least that’s how it seems. I’m not depressed or anything, but I guess I am down because of the weather, the time of year, and the fact that the Super Bowl featured two teams that weren’t the Philadelphia Eagles. Or maybe my rut is based on the fact that I think my proudest recent accomplishment is that I haven’t eaten a hot dog in nine months.Don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware of all the wonderful things in my life. I have Cailin, a wonderful and healthy boy in Jack, great friends, and an awesome family. I’m just bummed. It’s a hazy shade of winter and I have a case of Cabin Fever. I want to take Jack to playgrounds and let him run wild while I have awkward conversations with fellow parents. I want to be on the beach watching Jack splash in the waves. I want to barbecue up some, uhh, turkey burgers. (Remember I am on a diet) It would just be nice to walk outside and not feel like I am in the middle of the Siberian training montage from Rocky IV.

Maybe I need a vacation. Other than Cape Cod and Milwaukee, Wisconsin for weddings, I have not been on a vacation since I went to jolly old London, England back in 2006. I would love to be sipping daiquiris out of a coconut down in the Bahamas, or Cozumel, or whatever tropical paradise Tupac Shakur is rumored to be in. I simply could not imagine being somewhere with sunny days, no responsibilities, and no worries. But judging by the way I spend any second I get alone now, I’d probably just sleep the vacation away. So I don’t think a vacation is the answer, there are other things plaguing me.  

I am getting banged around financially – why you ask? Because I have been saving my money and being responsible and dull. And historically, every time I do that, the walls come crumbling down. In my wildly irresponsible mid 20’s, I “made it rain” in every bar, restaurant, Target, Best Buy, and record store in South Jersey and Eastern PA. I never had any problems. Now, it seems like misunderstood Vietnam vet John Rambo is in my home shooting his exploding arrows at various appliances and household devices. I am happy at my job, so I look past the peanuts for pay I receive, but it would be nice to be living it up like a yuppie. But alas, nice guys finish last as they say, and I am really starting to believe that. I am knocked on my ass amazed at the success of some of the most obnoxious people I know. Granted, I myself am no saint and have been guilty of sin, keep in mind that I saw Dave Matthews Band live in concert at least once a summer from 1998-2006. Maybe I need to be more of a dick, but I am not programmed for that.  

I kind of feel like people are gunning for me too lately. I got cursed out in a mall parking lot by a redneck for supposedly cutting him off. How did I know he was a redneck? Well, he was wearing flannel, and it wasn’t a “I listen to My Morning Jacket and drink Pabst Blue Ribbon” flannel, it was more like “I sit in the cold, damp woods and kill animals” flannel. Therefore, I realized he most likely has a shotgun or some weapon of animal destruction in his truck so I kept my mouth shut and mumbled an apology. He reminded me of that numbnut Larry the Cable Guy, and by the way as a former Comcast employee, I am slightly insulted by that character.

Looking back, I think I get like this every year. And I do take comfort in things. At age 34, I still have a full head of hair, I will never be referred to as a “gorilla juicehead”, and I am not some sleazy guy wearing a tracksuit selling jewelry in the mall. And my favorite band of all time, Buffalo Tom, is releasing a new album and touring soon. I am planning on seeing them three nights in a row. Sort of like being a Deadhead, but instead of rubbing elbows with acid dropping hippies and frat guys, I will be rubbing elbows with fellow craft beer drinking aging indie rock fans and fathers like myself desperately grasping onto some semblance of youth.

Spring, and Philadelphia Phillies baseball is just around the corner, so things are looking up. So as the weeks pass, I hope I can shake off the weight I am trying to lose and this rut I am stuck in. And maybe if I go on vacation, I can find Tupac!

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