You can now visit Nebulae Apothecary‘s home on the web. I encourage you to do so!

Or possibly even, “Damn, this sucks.”

Finally just, “!&@#,” was considered.

The genesis of my dismay actually comes from something rather nice. In strokes of absolutely incredible generosity the combined efforts of my classroom teacher and the second grade class netted me eighty dollars in gift cards to Guitar Center. At this point I honestly have just about everything I need in terms of musical instruments, the amp being my last piece, and that fell lovingly in to place this Christmas with an awesome contribution from my father and family. I mean, maybe I could pick up a distortion pedal to be ironic but once I checked with store to make sure repairs could be paid for via gift card I made a point to have a nagging suspicion I had about my acoustic guitar checked out.

That’s how I learned that if my guitar was a car… it’s effectively been totaled.

Scratching, cracking, warping, burning.

The iPhone doesn’t make it abundantly clear but I had noticed small cracks in the finish around the saddle and the saddle itself was rising slightly from its edges. To make matters worse, in the harsh glare of the repair shop, the situation is clearly causing the body to bow out just below the saddle and its even caving in near that top right corner. The humidity is ripping my guitar apart.

It can be repaired. The saddle can be re-glued and fancy innards can be surgically installed. The problem is that the “conservative” estimate I was given sits at least 350 dollars. That would be my best guess as to what my guitar would get in good condition if I was going to try and sell it used (Check that, it’s precise!) and it’s clearly no longer in good condition.

That’s rough.

I thought I was going to have to wrestle over what I was going to do but given I could replace it for the same amount of money or less the cost to repair it seems the way is clear. Enjoy it while it holds itself together until eventually one day it becomes unplayable.

Is there a hospice for guitars?

LOST ended and I had my thoughts but this Internet thing sure is hard to keep up with. So many blog breakdowns appeared so very quickly after the series finale that adding my buzz to the chorus seems frivolous. Again, like with the comics, if I had something monumental to say I would sit down and put in the time to draft a piece worthy of my efforts and your valuable internet time then I would certainly do so. I’ll say this. My impressions were very much overall positive, the finale was both emotional and entertaining, and the series… well, uh, what he said.

What I began stressing and complaining about in December is now only 7 and 3/4 days away. Flanders Elementary shuts down for the summer June 18th. Then summer begins and I still have no plans. The worst case scenario is locked in for now. I already filled out the paperwork that lets Target have my soul back so they can do with it what they will.

Let’s stop the whining, shall we? Positive story telling: GO. Just wrapped up a real fun weekend with Michelle. We’re still getting used to being Connecticutters but I managed to get my ear to the ground for a couple of events swinging through the casino.

Mohegan Sun puts on free shows in the middle of one of their large slot machine rooms in what is called the Wolf Den. Gloriana, a country pop group that I recognized from an obnoxious promo playing on Target TV screens last August, visited the Den on Friday night. The adventure took us out of our comfort zone because there was ushers for asking questions, strangers for sharing seats, and lines for waiting… with no particular promise of success. Turns out we had perfect timing and got ushered into great seats just 15 minutes after the show began. Perhaps it was the good vibes I was feeling from this good fortune but I found myself really enjoying this group way more than I thought I would. Let’s put it this way, any country group showing off slinky dresses on the girls and frosted blonde hair on the guys does not start me with a favorable impression. (I mean, seriously, did you click the link? Even looking at them now after I have a positive review of this group… they kinda make me want to yak.) Turns out the vocal talents you might think are manufactured on the record come out quite natural on stage.

Gloriana on Stage at the Wolf's Den, Mohegan Sun

Also swinging through the Sun was none other than Conan O’Brien and his Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Television Tour. This night was a lot more expensive than free but Michelle and I have been waiting for this show since I first snapped up tickets in response to a Conan tweet late this winter. See? Twitter is good for something. In this case the show decidedly met my expectations- a different sensation than having my expectations exceeded, sure, but not at all a bad thing. The only let down was when the show ended and I had to go back to waiting for Conan to be on my television.

Now you can go back to waiting for something to read on my blog.

These things really are totally illegible. Dang.

Fine. Sorry.

Panel 1: Oh, Baby! You’re so crazy- Hiding in the utensil drawer at work

Panel 2: That’s just my serrated side.

Panel 3: There’s some news about the baby…

Panel 4: They’re left handed.

Aaaaand you should be able to read the punch line.

Alright, sweet. That was a fun week. I’m pretty sure I’m all done now.

I certainly count down the days until a break like everyone else. Oh man, the grand plans I had. I was going to write up the first adventure of D&D campaign I’ve been thinking about that I want to force upon my friends, try out with some guys, satisfyingly complete and put on my shelf. I planned on adding some exercise to my diet. Maybe I would find that Dragon Age would be worth booting back up on the 360. Maybe I would write a song for the fledgling Nebulae Apothecary project. Finally, it’s the old standard at this point, find a job. Well, I got some exercise.

The reality is always that I use much of my free time to try and get back together some of the things that have fallen apart while working my two jobs. Laundry, dishes, meal planning: all of these chores get brought back from no effort whatsoever up to a finger lift short of half-assed. Then when I sit down to get some hard work done on playing I don’t really feel like doing much of anything at all. Click, goes the computer mouse. Click. Click. Click. Hours pass. Naps taken. Days wasted.

Up until this point my experience is fairly universal. This is the kind of vacation log that I’ll somberly relay and earn the response, “Hey, sounds great, that’s what vacation is for.” That’s when I have to admit to the sort of strange behaviors.

The endless surfing of  the job board wastelands always ends eventually. Everyday of my vacation, everyday, I load into my car, buy a beverage, crank up the Dan Patrick Show on my iPhone, and drive to random locations within reach. This week I’ve been to IKEA, Foxwoods Casino, numerous Target stores, and several other random destinations. Upon arrival I walk as much of the location as possible, spend anywhere between $0 to $10, and return home.

I have no idea why I find this so relaxing but I truly do. On these pointless trips most of the nagging miserableness fades away as I am free to just observe and explore and observe and explore again. The only thing that will stick with me is that sensation of the money it costs me to drive around and do nothing and the lack of the career to pay for it.

The truth about my free time is that I don’t like it. I love to create things but not by myself. It’s just too lonely. Both my webcomics were successful when they were an outlet for not just myself but for my community. I love to design tshirts but I like to be told what to make. Making music is wonderful but not without the band. Inventing games are terrific fun but not without anyone to play them. Better Late Than Never was the best thing I’ve ever made but I needed a close friend to co-host and an army of talent on set.

At this point I swear to you I’m trying really hard to tack and turn this post towards something positive instead of this festering whine-fest it’s becoming. I suppose my conclusion is that an empty apartment with only my own brain to bounce ideas around highlights how any individuals’ creative vision realized is truly a magnificent feat. You read about the incredible drive, the remarkable focus, the relentless perseverance in the face of sure defeat and it makes you shake your head appreciatively and you think you understand.

Then, give yourself a little free time and the slightest whisper of a dream and feel the crushing truth in an empty room. It’s enough to make you want to go out and drive somewhere.

But, look at these stats… does something seem out of place to you?

‘Fess up. I’m blaming Jason until you do.

I didn’t get the job. The process was absurdly delayed. I deliberately kept the whole thing in the dark because I preferred not getting a lot of hopes up. It saves a lot of complicated explanation and now I can save it all for this moment. The orginal call was from ESPN. It was unbeleivable. Further incredible was the next call two weeks later. I was invited on campus. A very cool yet very brief experience. I was in and out of the Worldwide Leader in less than a half hour. Three long weeks later I was finally told they had gone with a more experienced candidate. I don’t have any resumes in anywhere else right now and summer is coming. Soon I will have to get my UNH application together.

Hey, at least I’m down to 179 pounds!

I spent last weekend as a member of the Enforcers for PAX East. It was the most fun I’ve had in what seems like years. Late Saturday I was patrolling the floors of the Hynes Convention Center and I caught myself thinking, “I love my job, I could do this forever.” Whoops! Silly me. It was just the overwhelming creative atmosphere getting to me. I wish I could sense that buzz everyday. I like to leave each day different then how I started it. The potential that something awesome could be created. I don’t think this makes sense. Just nonsensical whining. Next!

Crazy day at school. All around us schools were sending kids home due to the flood conditions. Our superintendent stuck it out. Oops. By midafternoon the roads were to dangerous for travel and we were stuck with them. The thing is my child was picked up early at about ten minutes before my shift ended. Without further responsibilities I left the school when my day was officially over. I guess, however, that the last child didn’t leave the school until 5:25. I feel like I abandoned the situation. Sometimes school is weird. Feels wrong. On the other hand I got to monitor indoor recess today. Felt right. Hm.

The worst part about the iPhone is the delete key, the space bar, and the letters “b” and “n.” The next iPhone OS better be able to figure out that I don’t mean to type sentances that looknlike thus n n. Orbthjs either. The typing isn’t all bad, in fact the best feature might be the double-space-to-period feature. Sometimes I sit at my iMac and hammer away at the spacebar wondering why my sentance won’t stop. Or why “i” and “dont” just sit there and refuse to fix themselves. Soon I won’t be able to type at all. Yay, future!

Alright, time to sleep. I know it will make two job Wednesday begin when I wake up but I have little other choice.

EDIT: Last iPhone thought– My prose is really short and choppy when I’m limited by the touch keyboard. It’s interesting that it makes the same writer speak with an entirely different voice. Oh yes, I’m sure that is fascinating to you.

The 28th recognition of, well, me came up real fast this year. They make little posted lists in Target Team Member break rooms of the birthdays for the current month and I remember when I joined the company in December thinking that there was no way I would ever see my name on one of those little lists. Now life has worked out such that when December comes around I’ll see myself on the the 1 year anniversary list. According to the aisles filled with ribbons and bows in the seasonal department that’s not too far off. My birthday coming up made me think of another thought and that thought was what I wanted to put on my birthday list. Next thought!

2. What I wanted for my birthday:

I didn’t want anything for my birthday. I want my friends to get stuff for my birthday. Specifically XBox360s. I’m not very wise with my money. I made the splash last winter to get my own modern gaming system after I had been indoctrinated with a love for the device in the halls of Funnelle. FUNnelle. I never though I could love a Microsoft product again. The XBox 360 is console gaming. The Wii, as beloved as that little funkotron is, has become something else. The XBox 360 is where the passion of loved multiplayer titles like Golden Eye and Perfect Dark, deep RPGs like Baldur’s Gate or Knights of the Old Republic, or new dynasties like Halo or Call of Duty (I have a love/hate relationship with these) now live. Add the bonus of streaming Netflix instantly and you have pure luxury. So what am I missing? Friends. People who play video games from when they get home from work until they go to bed at 1AM are not who I remember playing those great titles with… I remember playing with my friends. Now I live alone and my assassin can wander alone the gorgeously rendered streets of Jerusalem for only so long before I realize having a thrilling video game experience is worth little when you can’t share it with someone who cares.

3. The actual celebration of my birthday:

Having your birthday on a Friday in an elementary school is a somewhat surreal experience. Two other children had their birthday on October 9th. There name is put up on the morning news, with appropriate singing, and I’m sure cupcakes were had in the classes they take their learning. I found a salutation-less card with a Happy Birthday pencil affixed to the envelope in my mailbox. A nice gesture by the school but also a reminder that my birthday now is recognized by a database successfully spitting forth my name, causing many to take a moment to type kind words on a social networking site and a school to reach into a bin of envelopes and deliver the ration from the supply stores to it’s final destination. There are no cupcakes but if you’re lucky there’s ice cream cake later that comes home from the grocery store.

4. A classic read recently and watched recently review:

This is what blogs are made for, right? I don’t do this kind of sharing nearly enough. This recent weekend I finished up reading Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons. The Da Vinci Code extravaganza was long enough ago now that I’d since forgotten all that I once had heard about it. It was nice to crack open some popular fiction with a nice clean slate instead of a pre-opinionated one. I’m always a little opinionated still and my opinions managed to dog alongside of me during my reading, anyways. I admire Brown’s ambitiousness for setting a vivid chase in a real setting, one that can be drained for profit by popcorn documentaries late at night on the History channel. The overall storytelling still smacks to me of immaturity and ragged writing. Whenever I read I have several moments where I think to myself, “Damn, I could do better than that.” Then I think, “Yeah, but you don’t.” Then I tell myself to shut up and keep reading. Later I apologize and befriend myself once again. Then we go play video games together. Wait, I think I got lost there. Oh yeah, Angels and Demons. Once again this was a Dan Brown page-turner. Even when I found the crumbles of cookie not very appetizing I still needed to scream through the papers to find the path to the end of the mystery. When that last page turned I was satisfied but not sure whether or not I had actually enjoyed myself.

A couple of weekends before that I Netflixed (New verb!) Shotime’s Dexter. Fitting that this series was based off of a mystery novel because this was another TV version of a page turner. The first episode sets up a chase that I had to follow. It was hard to get the wheels turning because the character of Dexter, a hidden serial killer functioning as a normal member of the Miami police forensic labs, makes for such a dark television show. I spent this particular weekend home alone and managed to rip of my own marathon of fourteen episodes. By the end of the experience I was cutting bagels with a creepy look in my eyes, humming ominous violin music to no one in particular. It’s riveting, complex, and very, very adult.

And before that I was Netflixing TNT’s Leverage. Just go and watch. That’s all I’ll really say. I love television.

5. I really need to blog.

And thus, I did.

See, it should say “one of the many” things instead of making it sound like there is just one thing. That’s what Sunday does to me now. Makes me cranky. Somehow a weekend where I did absolutely nothing feels as though I was absolutely sapped of all my energy. Michelle was a way this weekend and I can’t even properly welcome her home. It’s like an alter ego, this guy known as Captain Crankypants.

Instead of his usual robustly healthy self Captain Crankypants complains about his ears constantly. The fullish sensation packed in his skull making him feel a lttle naseous and a touch dizzy making his Cranky powers even stronger. Able to grump high buildings in a single gruff growl. Angrily Captain Crankypants will try to complete one of the chores he was going to do this weekend in the waning moments his time off. The dryer will be broken, however, and the Cranky will grow stronger still. He will let useless arguments about why the Pop Tarts were bought two packs strong drag on, as though a point can be made about the economics of commercial pastry purchasing. He will pout in the bed in he other room. Why is he cranky, you ask. He doesn’t know, and that makes him well, cranky.

He is a powerful super villain, and he needs to go to bed.

I have a new job.

Thomas the Tank Engine is the building theme. Theme is too light a descriptor, it’s really the fixation. Fixation, a term that aptly describes the dedication to this table that constantly returns my crackling knees to the weakly carpeted floor whenever a reward has been earned and usually keeping them there long after time is up. The act of returning to our work much like trying to remove a sleeve tenderly wrapped around a cactus: arduous, tender, and with the potential for things to get worse.

It’s a real job with real responsibilities and real consequences.

Last night I was clocked in at Target, I’ve had to stay on to pay the bills, and as a favor to a friendly manager I performed some of my old duties and ground out the preparations for today’s new releases. I pushed myself to really crush out the work, my pride the driving the effort. The work was noticed and my standard issue walkie crackled,”Heath, you should really drop this whole teacher thing, your true calling is as a movie guru.”

I buzzed back, “A movie guru saves the world on Tuesdays, a teacher saves the world Monday through Friday.”

I’m not a teacher. That’s the simple thing to call it when you’re trying to explain why you’re leaving one job for another. I’m an Instructional Aide, a one on one adult for a second grader that isn’t quite declared special needs and isn’t quite main stream either. I work six hours a day with a half hour lunch. Except for that lunch it’s alway me and the student, the student, and me. So I’m not a teacher… yet.

This afternoon I took a short nap and woke up, eyes focusing on a white ceiling that could be any of the white ceilings I’ve napped under for the last nine years and feeling familiar feelings. Although familiar it remains undefined. The best I can describe it is that I can sense just how many blank afternoon naps I’ve already had in life but how little I feel like an adult. As if I could imagine my life is a Lego creation but I’ve only put a few stripes down on the blue studded table. I look to my neighbors and they’ve got skyscrapers and airplanes. Some are working together and building bridges, connecting their models together and enjoying their shared successes, standing tall on stacks of confidence and understanding. My model is not ready to be played with. I look at my piddling of bricks. Now I don’t like it. I want to wipe it clean and start again.

I reach for my table but a reassuring hand drops down from where I can not see and holds my wrist down as I grip the brick.

“See where this one takes you. There is plenty of space left on the table.”

It is the Teacher.

I ask my student what model he would like me to try and build for him this time. The red engine, James, is the pick. I set to work building it from the bricks I pull from the pits and snap them down to the table, piece by piece.

James and Thomas at work.