A Little “ME” Time

I am convinced that there are two kinds of people. Those who feel guilty that they don’t work hard enough and work all the time simply out of guilt. Then there are those of us who work hard enough and keep working harder out of obsession. The latter is a workaholic. I am one of those. I never feel satisfied unless I reach my daily goal of 100 contacts and what is commonly know as “inbox 0.”

This weekend I took time to get out of town after a 7 month work binge where all I did was bust my butt working. That and the death of both parents took me deeper into a zone of pure work frenzy. The fourth of July is here and now it is me time. Although I am still compelled to begin this blog and make it more consistent, I find this to be me time. I sit relaxed with a cup of coffee, watching the kids play by the pool, as I meditate on the new refreshed me that will come back home sooner than I want. I imagine the big plans I have to develop into reality. Although my future ambitions are certain to have ups and downs I still condition myself to be aware of the now. This is me time. I am totally in the present and daydreaming. This is me time. I encourage my followers to believe in the possibility that no matter how bad the market sucks, no matter how big of an a-hole that client is, no matter how bad you screwed up, that you undoubtledy look back in a few years from now and wish you were still this young. You will forget that deal gone bad but you will never forget that time you took out for yourself to become a better you.

Main Street Kiss

Paper thin skin how can I win and within I sin
Perhaps this is the life and the loss of my wife gives me greif to derive
And the time that was lost would leave me
and the ones that sit beside me does find the need to hide me
and has no needs abide me and lay their eyes beside me
oh the supermodel mood and the whole attitude makes me feel nude
this whole bar scene and the afro sheen is not funny its mean
those gals I suppose I hesitate to propose, who knows
and a change and a chance to bring rage and romance we look at it
the bouncer at the bar says that life is in the stars
and the bitches are the way to the end
the chairs are all stacked and the gals have gone
I would not charge for the beauty at large who would?
the beautiful noven vixen blows or should I say sucks my cheek
and makes me weak
from the shores of Belmont what could she want now that feeling was gaunt
If I ask her to pose what do I suppose what would she sell?
one rose?
that kiss by Jennifer and the gal of choice what a wonderful voice
I win you lose you look I lose
I live a block from the shore
are you a whore?
then I want more
you know the MO and where I wish to go
I Will go slow
you are so slow
hell I don’t know
I wish to stare at the one I adore, what of the door
If you’re not too busy and I say who is he on the sands of Redondo
I fell of the shore and I fell for much more


As I walk into ICU
I dont know what to say or do
my sister’s in a lot of pain
my family’s eyes are pouring rain
the doctors have not much to say
do they know the time of day?
I see her eyes they’re bloody red
I hope that soon she’ll rid this bed
she cannot focus barely sees
must she live such misery
she was seperate from the others
always trying her very best
the white sheep of the family
nothing like the rest
and as I say it can’t be her
she looks at me through eyes of blur
calls my name and asks “how do?”
am I to ask “and how are you?”
I’ve never had a scarey fright
Until I saw her on that night
things got worse
a state of panic
she’s gone to sleep
and alls gone manic
for several hours machines are beeping
could she be dead or is she sleeping?
The doctors ask “what could it be?”
“There are not books for what we see”
Then one fine morning she awoken
All is better but none have spoken
Just thanking god she’s still around
and not six feet into the ground
and if there’s one thing I could state
don’t give up hope it’s not too late