So, today I really did lose it. Sorry, y'all. I need to be more faithful.

I see faith as learning to trust something bigger than self that has kept a fool like me alive after leaping so often and willingly into so many pits.

I don't know the official interpretation of "trust the process," but it sounds like it could be a variation on the theme of "we always muddle through." A classic example was when I was serving on a board of directors and one of the other directors brought that up in the context of a financial issue. I was aghast. A part of me wanted to say, "We muddled through because your dad would pull his teeth with pliers instead of going to the dentist."

I've recently been thinking of what a parasite I am, all the times I relied on the good graces of nice people, and I'm sure there are many more to which I'm oblivious. I have one foot in the grave, and I have yet to contribute to society.

A preliminary analysis indicates the symptoms of post-Moody Blues may be replaced with those of the milder interim-Moody Blues with the exercise of a continuous and high-frequency concert regimen.

I'm here, freezing in 60-70 oF weather, watching warning lights go off on my car, bumping from one audit to another, and wondering why the olives in my pasta smell like Barbie Dolls. There's got to be a better way.

Is it bittersweet?

The year ended well, I guess. One year ago, life was new and exciting. I was able to do things I never thought I would and finding myself quite at home in doing so. Of course, the only reason for living was going to see Justin. I was looking at the web page of old tour dates and scarfing at how many shows I'd missed. Going back a couple years, I couldn't even recall which ones I'd attended, though.

I used to be able to take time off work, no questions asked; but now I have to tell the boss where I'm going. Then, I have to deal with all the stereotypes as in: This is how you should gamble when you go to Las Vegas. Frankly, for all practical purposes, I don't even know where I'm going. I get in the car, follow the map, and get to the venue. I have never been one for sightseeing though I do love a good hike in a natural area of spectacular beauty. One goes to the venue, the proverbial curtain rises, love flows, and one gets lost in a trance of Justin music.

I struggle with my feelings for Justin. It is clear I am not one of the hot babes one often sees at shows. I am quite aware of my physical and interpersonal deformities. That said, and knowing I know jealousy to be evil, I still get jealous when I think I see Justin apparently enrapt by some sweet lovely in this part or that part of the crowd, Oh, how I'd love to have the beauty, charm, intellect, mystic gift, talent, whatever it takes to be a part of Justin's life. But here I sit.

Back to where I was going. When I say I love Justin, I mean he automatically brings about that soul-cleansing feeling one gets when they solve a hard math problem, see a child do something kindly for an elderly person, ponder deep religious doctrine, see a couple truly in love - all that good stuff. It feels like a rushing waterfall, a chill in the spine. It's comforting and soothing. A lady recently tried to explain it. She said love was magical. She hated to use the word, but it described how nobody knows how it happens, and yet it has a healing and creative power.

It is argued that love isn't love until it's given away, and I can't love Justin because I'd have to cross the security line, the "glass curtain" to perform any charity. I mean, with friends, you can surprise them by washing the dishes or running some other errand unexpected. What would Justin think if I were to find out where he lived and use the key he keeps under the mat to do his laundry while he was at work? So, given the circumstances, the best way I find to give away love is to obey the rules and not rush the line, jump on stage, etc.

Lots of people seem to think I'm out to destroy Justin's marriage, as if I consider my company is the greatest on earth or am too blind to see the fallacy. Please know I respect Marie and Justin's choice to marry her. It's great that they've been together a long time and have a beautiful family. What's more, even if Justin were to be interested in me, if I truly loved him, I wouldn't want him to have to catch h### at home for being unfaithful on my account.

Back to the geography and the time between shows that nobody notices or remembers anyway, a year of happiness ended with a thud. Almost a year ago, I broke my wrist en route to a show. I had missed a curb and fallen. People in the building above laughed. I had a bloody knee. I didn't know there was anything wrong with the wrist until I tried to clap. I patted my shoulder with my good hand through the show to make noise. I opted not to seek medical attention, and things have healed well. I felt sorry for myself, but when I learned I went splat at the same location where several people had been killed in a tragic bus accident, I counted my booboo but mild.

I believe I made the right choice. It was crazy, but I got where I needed to be. In recent years, I've learned it is awesome to walk for ground transportation. It's cheaper and faster in most circumstances. I run into some high pedestrians that sometimes are scary but harmless. But I've been safe. The worst I believe I encountered was ongoing strips of ripe trash on a summer night. When I've gotten lost, it hasn't been long before some angel of mercy appeared to set me straight.

Memories that I thought never would are now fading. Tragedies - like missed connections and stuff that would have made my mother worry - are now misty memories. But I remember the people who helped here and there. It's foolish to chase a rock star across the countryside, but people are always willing to help. I also like how I will get totally lost and in despair pray in agony only to have the venue appear (magically) right in front of me. I'm learning, slowly, that praying for a miracle does more to help me get to the venues than giving myself a ministroke from rage.

Highlights include another life-changing instance in which I recall myself screaming, "What?!" from the audience. Then, there was the time I thought Justin motioned for me to join the group backstage. (His wife was seated two seats behind me.) And what about the music? The little Justin band has done well selecting timbres and techniques to make lovely songs even better. The emulations of the originals are great, too. Justin's voice continues to be awesome. The songs will always touch the heart, and with age, I realize different reasons why I and others found them to be in their own league of contemporary music.

Sometimes I would be exhausted at the shows. I recall once my mind had slipped into daydreaming about group discounts on rhinoplasty. Huh?

As things wound down, I had been crushed with deadlines and trying to use a computer that had to think a few seconds about every single character. Even Excel wasn't calculating properly. I could type a whole line in Word, and the computer would still be thinking about putting down the first character. The boss' political committee was under audit (routine but stressful nonetheless), I had to keep searching for documents for my own tax issues, everything was hopelessly getting lost in an irrational web of bureaucratic "processing." I was so mad, I banged my head on an I-beam a couple times. Needless to say, it didn't help the situation. My heart was acting up when it normally functions so perfectly I don't even know it's there - unless I'm looking at Justin. And my right eye was twitching a marathon.

I knew I had been ambitious to try to go to as many Justin shows as possible, as that was sort of the only thing in life that has meaning anymore. I got to the first of the last two shows feeling rather horrible, physically, unable to unwind. It was one of two shows in my life where I didn't feel it. Normally, one goes to the show. I don't do anything for myself, but then Justin appears. That's nice, but when the feeling rushes in, one relaxes and says something like, "The gang's all here."

The next day, I messed up. I wanted to go to a church conference. It was supposed to be broadcast on TV, but nobody knew the channel. I went to a church building, but the custodian didn't know a thing about it. So, I started off to where he thought I might catch the conference and walked a couple blocks before I realized he had given me insufficient directions. Then, I turned around to return to the motel with my tail between my legs.

What might have been lyrics to a bad hit grunge/metal song occupied my mind. I was angry because I couldn't do anything right and I didn't think I ever would. Why should I bother? At that, the little voice inside my head asked something like, "Why do you want to leave, so you can get an early start messing up the afterlife?" I saw how I was "choosing to lose" at various points in my life. "I thought this life was supposed to be a time to bring things together, but everything only falls apart." I realized I was unhappy because I was measuring happiness in terms of what I got instead of what I gave. A few other things crossed my mind.

At the hotel, my roomie, luna, let me catch conference on her computer. I propped my feet on a stack of pillows and laid on the comfy, comfy bed. The words of the conference were exactly the instruction I had heard walking back, only I was hearing the wisdom instead of the rage. I drifted in and out of sleep, only to wake up to hear somebody repeat the lessons. While I don't remember all that was said, it worked, and I was at a level of peace I don't think I'd felt before.

I went out between sessions to read by the pool. It rained. My streak of failure continued. Even so, pretty purple flower petals swirled around until the rain stopped. I had a copy of "The Merchant of Venice" I picked up out of a box of castoffs, because I was in somewhat of an Italian Renaissance mood anyway. I started in the back with the commentaries. They spoke of love, good kinds and bad kinds. It reinforced the lessons. (Saying I'm getting lessons from the cosmos sounds creepy. Chalk it up to a lack of English skills.) There was more comfort as I was not reading and soaking my feet in a nice hot tub.

Back at the room, the second session was more of the same received in the same way. I felt different, calm, fixed. I had become better for the adventure in spite of myself. But I had done nothing for Justin, and that disappointed me.

I can go back to concerts within the past year that have made me feel on top of the world. I would love to live that way every day. But until February, I shall be working very hard on taxes, car repairs, and all that lackluster stuff that somehow holds together on the road.

Enough for now. The computer is back in service and I have a couple weeks' work to do.

It would sure be nice to hear something from Justin - if he wants to say something to the fans, that is.

Mope.

Mope.

Just a month or two ago, I was all caught up in what seemed a world of endless euphoria. It ended with a thud. Now, what?

And another thing. If one Googles "On the Blue Cruise," as one would do to find the phone number to beg an upgrade to Gold and two passes to see two Justin shows - one sees the "Lineup" with Justin fourth from the bottom, below even his backup Julie Ragins. I thought he was the host and all these folks were his guests. Far be it from me to understand marketing.

By the way, I still have taped to my photo that photo of a sliver of Justin's coat lapel that appeared in the whatever publication of the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame (which I probably misspelled). I deem it indicative of a lack of playing along on his part.

I got mad today because I ruined my car. Again. Then, I got happy when I thought I could have ruined it in the middle of the Justin tour. Other than that, I'm just hanging out here doing what the job requires, which is for me to, every day, act stupider than I imagined was possible the day before. And now, I must return to work.