Weariness has returned, gnwing my joints.    

It's work.  Life.  Stress.  Frustration. Bitterness.

On demand, I am your servant.  You want fed?  Decisions, recommmendations, analysis?  Is there a problem that must be addressed? Home, work, pets, cars, family, neighborhood.

Yes, I address them, it's my nature.  

I war with my nature. 

That's the essence.  I victimize myself. I analyze, I remember, I warn, I project.  Nothing comes of it.

It must be me, I think.  No one else see these things.  I must be a crazy, out on the edge, seeing things that aren't there, warning of falling skies and coming storms.  

With life, it's easy to see and recall what was warned.  Many don't want to deal with the complexities of thinking.  They want spoon fed simple answers.  

At work, it's easy to see and recall what was warned.  Email threads, notes, recalled conversation weave the tapestry.  

I analyze, warn, and then wait.  

As the past catches up and the warnings come to me, guilt bludgeons me.  Did I do enough to warn them?  Could I have spoken more loudly, more frequently.  

Yes, but I've been conditioned to bite my tongue and keep my silence.  To speak and accept that they don't see, don't understand, but they will come to understand when things come to happen.  

There is no joy when it comes to happen, just rage that they didn't listen.  And now, they're catching up with some things with their "Gosh, we have a problem, routine."  Yes, I know.  I told you about it in 2011.  I reiterated it in 2012.  

Yes, I'm rambling, writing in couched language, aware of the insanity and egotism exploding out of my veiled comments, imagining others reading and asking, "What is he talking about?"

I know.  

The writing goes well, a great joy, but it's a small part of my tangible life.  Work demands more time.  Life and relationships are much bigger chunks.

I awoke over the past few days finding myself throwing out mantras and chewing them like jelly beans.  Endure.  No stress, no worry, no anxiety. No anger, no resentment, no hostility.  No bitterness.  

But some days, when the nights are short and the problems have piled up, the mantras fail short.   

I know, I'm not alone, fighting with myself, taking myself to the edge with my life and choices, talking myself back, coping with my frailities, insecurities, and egotism.  My issues, in the greater scale of existence, are small beans in comparison with others' issues.

The current call is ending.  They've confirmed that everything that I told them is true.  No one has an issue;  we have a problem.

Now it's coming up for my next call, and another time back on the stage at work, giving my warnings and projections for the coming year.  

Where are my glasses?

My mantras have no answers.