The Wingdings You Were Waiting For

Slurp-ditty, slurp-ditty, slurp. This weekend has completely emptied me of my creativity, but I am not a flaker, not one to miss a deadline or let a good man down. My tank is depleted, but I am not without the capability for word creation. Not that I’ll be creating new words, but maybe I’ll string a few together that you haven’t heard before in the exact sequence in which I present them to you. Maybe I’ll even throw a few fabricated words in here and there the next few weeks to make up for the lack of stimulating ideas, humor, drama, intensity, or romance. Because at this juncture I’m not sure I have the capacity to capture any of those concepts in a fluid and enticing manner. Last Friday was my birthday. My 26^th. I don’t recall many birthdays that were overly vivid, but last year, being only 368 days ago and all, is quite fresh. For now. Like all the birthdays before, the precise nature of my 25^th will fade. It is more the frame of mind I had going into my 25^th that makes the biggest impact on me, confident that this past year would be my best year yet. It was a tragically productive year, full of unfortunate circumstances that all induced pain yet all concluded with pain alleviating or life improving outcomes. I’ll take it. 365 days later my love interest was the same person as the year before, albeit a quite dissimilar situation. She would very possibly call me her “interest” both years as well, only neither year were we together. August 20^th, 2003 was the day after my first call to her, and the day before our first date. August 20^th, 2004 was nearly two months after I walked out her door following our break up. This year’s evening, which I ended up spending with her, turned out to be fantastic. I would rank it as our best night ever. It had the newness of our first encounter, and the self-aware, mutual honesty of a couple who had been together for years. Only we had not been together for years. We were not together at all. And yet we were.

I’m trying to set myself straight and not admit that I’m in my “late 20’s.” One friend pointed out that for all the other reasons why it is particularly useless to lament the fact that I’m 26 and how that’s the “dark side of my 20’s,” there is one reason, rooted in sheer logic that makes it truly worthless. It is that technically, upon my 25^th year and sixth month, I had already ventured into the “later”stage. So I guess I’m over the whole affair. At least I can pretend to be. I have not yet been to a wedding for one of my friends, but I think I’ll be getting tuxed up before too long. I’ll be raiding an open bar some time in 2005, I can bet. Or not. Most of my friends are planners, so even if a proposal occurs in the next few months, it still might be some time before the actual union transpires.

Since I am conducting a love dialogue simply for the sake of blather, I guess I’d better alter my theme, seeing that this is a public forum. It’s been over two months since I typed a single word about the industry in which I am employed. Here are a few lines of ramble about the affiliate network scene as it relates to me. As a Publisher Representative, I adore what I do, partly because of the constant obstacles and competition. It’s just like being in an intimate relationship. I work and toil and expend infinite effort to keep my clients happy, and when all is well they are quiet and withdrawn, and when the sudden flash hits and there is the tiniest hitch they come charging at me, flailing and in need of immediate reassurance. I guess that’s the way it is supposed to be. I am here to mend what needs to be fixed. That is the role I fill. The market is down, but I’m positioned to bring it up. Tell me what you need and I will find a way to provide it for you. Tell me what I need and I will find a way to make it so.

Bryan May
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