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My Almost-daily Journal |
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| About I love trying out new things, especially when it comes to internet technology. I never really kept a journal, but it's something that I've always wanted to do. Now, everybody will get a chance to look inside my twisted, and somewhat-warped mind.
I've also subscribed to Audio Blog, so a few times a week, I'll leave actual voice blogs. Very cool!XML Newsfeed Previous Posts
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Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Post-traumatic Vacation Depression Disorder I'm not sure there is such a medical condition, but whenever I return from a vacation, I always feel a little blue! Even after only one week of scuba diving in the Carribean, I'm mentally and physically depressed for at least a week. One time I was depressed as well as infected with Pneumonia... I think there's almost a correlation. Personally, I feel depression is caused or catalyzed by bacteria in the brain. Anyway... Our Greece vacation wasn't a week long. It was two weeks long! And it was not in a country where I predominantly spoke English. No! I regressed back to age five. I was mostly speaking Greek! Fluent Greek! Add that variable to the mess of primordial mental baggage I'm suffereing. I can still envision the drive along the Aegean coast along Greece's new National Road heading to my parents' village of Agios Basilios. I can still remember the smells of shish kabobs, grilled fish, ouzo and feta cheese. I can still hear the raucous of an orchestra that hundreds and thousands of cicadas fiddle during the scorching day. And the love... soooo much love in that village... It almost seems surreal that relatives that hardly know me (cumulative time together is probably less than one year), treated me as if I've lived with them for 34 years. Perhaps I've lived in their hearts? I hate to coin cliche's, but, "Blood is thicker than water"! I can vouche for that firsthand. So, here I sit, in my office at Decoma, wondering what happened. How am I going to get by without the smell of gyros, shish kabobs, and fish. Why isn't there a tomato, cucumber, onion, olive and feta salad looking at me in the eyes right now? How can I go through a day without a "village" salad. How can I go through a day without the sounds of cicadas echoing the olive orchards? What about Fredos and Frappes? Where did all the cafenias (coffee shops) go, where only men are allowed? Why can't I get an Ouzo & water with a little plate of Mezze that was always delivered with a smile? Back to the mundane grind: waking up, showering, driving to work in our metal coffins while viewing our concrete jungles littered with strip malls and party stores. Then spending the day, answering calls, program managing programs that are nothing more than a controlled chaos, where everybody involved only cares about covering their own asses... not whether or not they can make a profitable, successful program... just covering their own asses. Emails, phonecalls, inter-office correspondance, junk mail, spam, voicemails, more emails, more phonecalls, irrate customers (who do little to help the process of success), departmental meetings, plastic parts, sections, more plastic parts, inventories, shortages, supplier quality violations, QS9000, Word, Excel, Lotus Notes, Fed Ex, rolodex, and then make the drive home. Everybody wants to get home... usually at the same time you do... traffic, traffic lights, horns, bumper-to-bumper, construction, orange barells, flashing yellow lights, construction zones, police, seat belts, speed limits that are half-met, then pulling up the driveway to meet bills, more junk mail, more junk newspapers, dishes, dishwasher, laundry, a leaky fuel filter, a leaky dishwasher, door-to-door charity salesmen, watering flowers, pulling weeds, a house of chaos and disorder, paying bills with Quicken, managing money, Charles Scwabb fees, realizing falling networth, watching 10 minutes of CNN, eating fast food, watch half of a movie, then retire for bed, only to repeat the process the next day. And you wonder why I'm suffering from Post-traumatic Vacation Depression Disorder? posted by Dino at 2:13 PM (permanent link) |