What's on Your Mind, Ray? (OR: Never mind. It's past your bedtime.)

I'm distressed right now. Frazzled? Stressing? Tired? Yes. Distressed? No, my friends, not yet. I think I'm working toward it, though. And being awake at 1:30 in the morning doesn't help.

I forgot how much I love A Rush of Blood to the Head. It's my stress album. It's what I listen to when I need to get myself out of whatever hole I've dug for myself. Much like Hot Fuss (my ultimate goodtimes album), I physically get into, and I don't care how dorky that is. It works somehow. Music is like therapy, but cheaper. And more reliable.

Grace and I played the "secret game." How that helps me I may never know. But the fact someone else can acknowledge some of my incomprehensible jabber is definitely encouraging.

I definitely missed Jeff. We actually get a lot from him. I remember why conservatives aren't evil, and why despite the fact I miss college, I still miss my high school days, too. Same with Matt. We're three guys who legitimately get each other and revel in who we are. If you have that and you know it, don't ever let it go. Every now and then, they'll remind you why you need them. When I went through some of my trouble, they were there. Jennie and Erin and many others did, too, but these guys helped me like no one else could. That I give thanks for all the time.

You know what I need right now? Some legitimate direction. A clue. A solid sense of something, anything. I'm mulling around when I need to be taking some kind of action.

My only problem is that, frankly, I have no fucking clue what that action should be.