The Darkest Hour
I'm now just under a week away from what I'm sure will be the happiest day of my life so far. This Saturday the world's greatest girlfriend and I will be tying the knot in a small, intimate ceremony that seems to have attracted a lot of attention and well-wishers. We're both really looking forward to the big day, and while we're certainly a little bit nervous we know in our hearts that as impossible as it may seem, this is something that was always meant to be.
So while our wedding, honeymoon and subsequent life together will usher in a time of great happiness, getting there is proving to be a bit more of a pain, and I'm not talking about the actual wedding plans, which thanks to Jules' superior management skills are progressing just fine. The pain I'm talking about comes from that pesky mistress, Grinder Productions. She isn't taking too kindly to me putting her into second place forever, and she's determined to make my life a living hell up until the day of the wedding, and so far she's tried her darndest to even ruin the day itself.
I can't even begin to explain the problem, since it's not one major thing, it's a great many little things, none of which on their own would amount to very much, but when they get piled up, one on top of the other, and more and more and more, they slowly grind down my ability to function.
You could chalk it up to fate, random chance, or some higher power that's trying to teach me a lesson. You could chalk it up to greed, laziness or a disregard for the feelings of others (either on my part or anybody else's). You could blame it on parents, children, the economy, the environment, work, love, or hate. You could blame it on quality, quantity, ticket prices, Drayton Entertainment, local politics, or the search for a missing little girl.
You could blame it on whatever you like - even me - and it still wouldn't change a thing.
I've spent the weekend searching the deepest recesses of my mind for answers - usually when my back is to the wall I shut myself off from the outside world for a few hours, meditate on whatever problem it is I'm facing, and then come up with the answer when I re-emerge. But this time it hasn't happened - we've been so caught up in last-minute preparations that I find myself writing this post at 7:30am on a Monday morning and completely unable to come up with a solution as I shiver in the early-morning chill.
I'm going to go away for a little while now - this will likely be the last posting from me for this week, and I'm hoping that while I'm away Stacey and Shannon will be able to provide some guest posts about what they're doing to keep the company running in my abscence in the days ahead. I am going to spend this week in that dark place inside my head and make sure that somehow, no matter how long it takes or how hard it proves to be, I find the solution to my problems, so that they don't follow my down the aisle, and I want to ensure that when we return from our all-too-brief honeymoon The Darkest Hour will have passed us by, and we can move forward in our lives together with newfound strength, dignity and fulfillment in the multi-faceted potpurri that we all lovingly call Grinder Productions.
Take care, my friends. Break a leg, my thespians.
Eric
So while our wedding, honeymoon and subsequent life together will usher in a time of great happiness, getting there is proving to be a bit more of a pain, and I'm not talking about the actual wedding plans, which thanks to Jules' superior management skills are progressing just fine. The pain I'm talking about comes from that pesky mistress, Grinder Productions. She isn't taking too kindly to me putting her into second place forever, and she's determined to make my life a living hell up until the day of the wedding, and so far she's tried her darndest to even ruin the day itself.
I can't even begin to explain the problem, since it's not one major thing, it's a great many little things, none of which on their own would amount to very much, but when they get piled up, one on top of the other, and more and more and more, they slowly grind down my ability to function.
You could chalk it up to fate, random chance, or some higher power that's trying to teach me a lesson. You could chalk it up to greed, laziness or a disregard for the feelings of others (either on my part or anybody else's). You could blame it on parents, children, the economy, the environment, work, love, or hate. You could blame it on quality, quantity, ticket prices, Drayton Entertainment, local politics, or the search for a missing little girl.
You could blame it on whatever you like - even me - and it still wouldn't change a thing.
I've spent the weekend searching the deepest recesses of my mind for answers - usually when my back is to the wall I shut myself off from the outside world for a few hours, meditate on whatever problem it is I'm facing, and then come up with the answer when I re-emerge. But this time it hasn't happened - we've been so caught up in last-minute preparations that I find myself writing this post at 7:30am on a Monday morning and completely unable to come up with a solution as I shiver in the early-morning chill.
I'm going to go away for a little while now - this will likely be the last posting from me for this week, and I'm hoping that while I'm away Stacey and Shannon will be able to provide some guest posts about what they're doing to keep the company running in my abscence in the days ahead. I am going to spend this week in that dark place inside my head and make sure that somehow, no matter how long it takes or how hard it proves to be, I find the solution to my problems, so that they don't follow my down the aisle, and I want to ensure that when we return from our all-too-brief honeymoon The Darkest Hour will have passed us by, and we can move forward in our lives together with newfound strength, dignity and fulfillment in the multi-faceted potpurri that we all lovingly call Grinder Productions.
Take care, my friends. Break a leg, my thespians.
Eric
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