June 10th, 2002:

As I was sitting on the front steps smoking, I watched the cars coming down the street. I would pretend that each one of them was you, coming home from work for the evening.

One of my employees: “Dan, if I ever come down to Dallas, it’s too bad you’re not a girl, cause I’d plant you a big wet one.”

I have been FTPing close to 200MB worth of digital camera images up to a server on the Internet, only to take them back down at the end of the day, and then back up the next morning. This way I can edit them at home, and at work. What I failed to realize is, I could copy them to one computer (for backup purposes) and then leave them right on the flash card until I got them all edited.

Sometimes I don’t think things through.

I’m going for a drive.

Yes, it’s the middle of the work day.
Yes, this crap is still broken.
No, I don’t know how I’m going to fix it yet.
No, I don’t care.

There is an eclipsed sunset tonight, with Dallas being one of the prime locations for viewing (Thanks belle_mort!).

I think I may get something to eat, and sit out on top of the parking garage here at work and watch it. I can’t think of an outside point higher in the air that I have access to. There aren’t any mountains around here.

I’m connected.

But falling apart.

I feel very good this morning. Very peaceful. And, even though, at the beginning of last night, I was starting to feel just as disconnected as you felt, this morning I feel more connected than ever.

I had a dream that Jess showed up here unannounced, and, more than anything, I was upset because I didn’t have a chance to clean my truck before she got here. And, before I would let her get in, I made her stand outside of it with her eyes closed so I could clean it.