fish eggs pop like bubble wrap

With almost everyone at Warped Tour, we had a skeleton crew at the office. It was nice because I was abel to get a lot of work done. I think I did, anyway, in between the usual bouts of goofing off. The few of us who stayed on to work went out to lunch at a sushi bar. The food was really good, and after eating the better part of three or four different rolls and a couple slabs of unagi, topped off with a mug of Sapporo, I was pretty much ready for a long nap.

Unfortunately, that was not to be, but I did get to try fish roe (flying fish, I think) for the first time, and was rather suprised by the tastelessness. It was the texture, oddly enough, that I enjoyed the most--tiny, crackly compressed bubbles of air that popped between my molars. The got stuck in the crevices of my mouth. Occasionally, one would venture down from these hidden oral cavities while I was housing another morsel of sushi goodness, which was a pleasant surprise. More foods should pop like that. It makes things interesting.

Back at the office, I spent most of the day following up on things. I had a lot of things to follow up on. It feels like i'm always following up on something. I spend all day following. Follow, follow, follow. If it sounds monotonous, that's because it is. It's hard to explain my job to people. Sometimes it's very interesting to me, and at times, very satisfying, but when I describe things I do to people outside the sphere of my workspace, I get a blank look followed by an indifferent glance and an inevitable, "you don't say," or something similarly disinterested. Though I'm a writer and an editor, very little of what I do is actually writing and editing. Phone calls, however, are extremely abundant.

I spent a majority of the day composing e-mails, jabbering on the phone with writers, artists and publicists and typing at people on instant messenger. I did a lot of editing too, as we're back against a deadline.

It took me a little while to realize that I was completely unorganized. I really have no idea what I'm doing. I just kinda do it, and I haven't fucked up bad enough yet for anyone to notice. I was talking to a coworker, who sometimes works from home and has a ton of experience in this industry, how he's able to stay on top of things, and he gave me a few pointers. I really want to be good at this. I take a lot of pride--probably too much--in everything I do. I hate feeling like I'm underachieving. I probably shouldn't fuss over my fantasy team too much. I probably should make lists, and set goals, but all these things seem like a lot more work to pile on all the stuff I already do.

I head over to a local bar after work. I hadn't really planned on going out, and the place was completely empty--just me, the bartender, some couple and this dude I don't know but always talks my ear off because he knows a friend of mine. I always hope he doesn't recognize me. I kept focused on ESPN and didn't look in his direction. He was wrapped up in some inane political conversation with the couple, and I polished my rum and coke fast enough to get out of there without an incident. I hurried home for a beer, another rum and coke and a couple slices of watermelon. I realized while sitting on the couch that I got to get my shit together and stop being so goofy and just be a responisible organized adult.

While I don't think that will ever happen, I will put the fantasy baseball down for a while. At work anyway.