5:57am last night I dreamed about a government official traversing a snowy mountain to hunt a fugitive. The government official was on skis, trying to go up hill and failing. There was a large entourage of people circled around him including camera crews. When the government official stumbled the fugitive, who had a rifle, shot him in the back. Wounded but still alive the official pressed on. At any time the fugitive could have shot him multiple times. He could have killed him. but he didn’t. He watched the slow ascent. The mass of people moving towards him. And waited. The official got within 59 yards of the fugitive then demanded his surrender. The fugitive set down his rifle and walked toward the official, giving himself up. The scene was odd. But not staged. What was the fugitive thinking? Why did he not run? Shoot to kill?

The feeling of sadness around work, place, love sex is so powerful it feels inevitable. Indulging in it gives my power away. To a job, place, person. Even now trying to redirect feels like betrayal. Every feeling can be redirected. I am in control. I release the job, the place, the woman.

I don’t miss utah. Or even the WIL. I don’t miss being a chaplain. I feel sadness because I never transcended.

All the time I was the chaplain I believed a great reward was coming. I believed fives years after I started I would find pure bliss. I counted the days in yearly journals.

Though I was in my thirties the belief was childlike. I convinced myself a magical life would be obtained. Inevitably I failed. When nothing happened, when life didn’t burst into uninterrupted joy, I was lost. I resorted to honoring the next best thing. the time leading up to the moment of failure.

Now I am a prisoner. I pay debt to a memory. I am trapped feeling I can never be so high again. I pine for a job I outgrew. I miss a place I no longer live. I love a woman who has moved on.

I am focused. Decisive. Sure if where I am going. What I am going to accomplish

2:04pm There is no possibility I could contrive success. My intuition is to be unique. Singular. I go out of my way to be different. That instinct ultimately results in alone and empty.

12:22pm still at work. Feeling of anxiety is not better. It is high energy, which usually would be good. I can’t find a productive outlet.

Anticipation. That is what it is. I anticipate something happening. The review tomorrow. The survey results. Admissions that never materialize. I am waiting for work to turn positive.

10:40am at work. Feel a bunch of energy in my upper lungs. I call it anxiety. I have to hurry up and do something. What do I have to do? The feeling is just there. More than a cause. Financial review tomorrow. Survey in the building. Planning for summer vacation.

6:03am I write these posts because I want to communicate. I write these posts because I want to be known. I write these posts so my experiences have meaning. I write these posts and dream they will become popular. I hope these posts could be a way to make money.

I would be mortified if people knew the parts of me I keep hidden. I would hate writing to entertain. I continue to write to be known. I continue to write hoping I am never discovered.

5:53am just woke up, Monday, Arizona. I dreamed I went to a lab next door to work. I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was almost five o’clock. Some guy came looking to use the bathroom. I told him no one could enter. We were closing and no visitors were allowed. I shut the door and locked it. He was angry. I turned away. Then Heard a noise. He pulled the door open and ran down the hall. I threatened to call 911 as he grabbed things off counters. I didn’t want to cal 911. It would be a hassle. I would have to explain why I was there. He made his way out. I locked the door again. Secure this time. My friends from high school approached. I told them we were closed. They wanted to know if there was any candy. I grabbed a handful off a counter and gave it to them. I had to leave. There was a big fundraising event that night. The son of a co worker was getting married the next day. I didn’t want to get in trouble for being where I wasn’t supposed to be.

6:35pm. Back in Arizona. Sunday evening. This weekend was great. I had no time to think. Therefore I did not get anxious. I woke up Saturday and drove to Dana point. I was barely there when my daughter and I went to the mall. Then we came home and rested. At 5pm we went out with her friends. Ate dinner. Took her friends home. We got in late by my standards. 9pm. Watched the rest of a movie. Went to bed. I slept well on my wife’s couch. It was comfortable. Better than sleeping on the floor. After waking up I took the dog for a walk. Went through the car wash as picked up breakfast. The house was dark when we got back. I turned on the television and watched Hamilton. The dog curled up next to me. I sipped coffee. My wife and daughter got up at 9am. My wife went to the store. My daughter and I ate breakfast. I left the house shortly after 10am. I stopped by the store before heading out. I was in the freeway by 10:30am. As I drove i listened to audiobook mysteries. Traffic was light. I Got to chandler at 5pm. I fed my fish, Ate dinner and Called my mom. Then I Called my daughter. Put trip stuff away. Brushed teeth. Thankfully I suffered no existential thoughts. No usual Sunday dread. I need to be that busy every weekend. My mind attacks my happiness if it isn’t engaged. That is why I don’t get depressed during the week. I am too busy. I stay busy. Engaged. Productive.