Whoo, caffeine rush

So here it is lunchtime and it's five o'clock tomorrow morning. Squeezed into my half-human-sized seat, I closed my eyes for a long, long time and listened to the winds rush by, the great machine's roar, the annoying Australian guys talking about nothing with their annoying Australian accents. Maybe it wasn't nothing, but I couldn't tell what it was. Now and then I peeped open a burning eye and glimpsed some stupid movie on the screen in the bulkhead. Beyond the bulkhead were those pussies in business class, stretching out with all their room and selection of wines and personal reading lamps and cute little slippers for their precious widow feet. Who flies business? I mean, except people who can afford it. I wouldn't spend precious miles on it, I'll tell you wut.

Who blogs from an airport? Especially after getting home. But The Miz is driving down to get me, so I wait. Long story. I wait and my stomach doesn't know if it wants another lunch, another dinner or another breakfast. It's five o'clock tomorrow morning and it's lunchtime.

Five hundred some-odd pictures. Why? What do I do with them? Make a collage? An art project? Print them all out onto poster board and build a Japan-travel-themed portable cubicle slash engine-less art car for Burning Man?

Yeah, got the tickets. Next step: Meet people who go, make new friends, turn all weird and hippy-ish as was meant to be lo those many years ago when I left Berserkeley and ran off to the suburbs. Well, I dug clear hot weather and smooth concrete driveways back then, man, and any culture that was NOT one of coffeehouses and smug longhaired sandal-wearing backpack-packers with their lefty political discourse and certainty of moral righteousness. I do not like smug moral righteousness. So I moved to the suburbs?

Man this trip was a trip. I learned a lot about the business, tell you wut. Met me some Japanese engineers. They're just like American engineers (most of whom are Chinese). Engineers are of a type the world round. It's a beautiful thing. So obviously that wasn't the point. Point was learn the business I'm in, specifically, down to the painful details, and use this year, this gift of employment, and make it work. Oh, and earn me some more trips if I can. Will see about that, o' course. What I REALLY wanted to do was remain a thirty-something slacker with all the time in the world to turn his career on so meanwhile he dabbles in writing and photography and music and outdoor home projects and never really gets anything accomplished, just sort of drifts along, but man, suddenly I looked in the mirror and realized shit, that ain't gone work no more. There won't be any more thinking I can take my mad techie skilz and go get a job if I need one. I have to work at it just to stay employed now. It's not even about raises, much less promotions. It's about staying employed, baby, because when the axe comes down, odds are it will default to an early retirement. Ageism may be illegal, but it's also standard practice and DAMN hard to prove, especially by suckers like me who figure whatever happens is my own damn fault anyway.

Is THAT where this caffeine- and twenty-four-hours-awake buzz-fueled blog post is going? Ick. Fuck that, I'll put up a picture and go look for some food.

Okay, six attempts and a window full of pseudo-apologetic techie googledygook later, I won't. What, they got something against the manji?