It’s dangerous writing in a coffee shop, surrounded by game-playing teens and housewives – it tends to pigeon-hole my metaphors. My mind is over-run – I’m full of “myself” – and I thought that writing something down might purge some of the pressure. But I can’t seem to freely write like I used to, so I have to ride a tributary of observation until I can steer my vessel on the tumultuous rapids of my thoughts. The woman next to me has a heavily adorned bag – pink leather with fat silver rivets, a stark contrast to the utilitarian Ogio messenger bag that shepherds her computer. She drinks drip – hot enough to warrant a sleeve. I think she must be grading science papers.

I’m drinking a glass of 14 Hands Cabernet. I had a professor in college that used to tell us that she graded our papers in her bathtub with a bottle of red wine. Eventually the dried red drops on my Mythology paper would be her testimony. She was a “character” – a status I think is worthy of achieving. If you aren’t a “character” what are you? People are described by what they do (engineer, teacher, bus driver) – with the exception of “characters.” Characters have a personality that overpowers their limitations in a smothering embrace. Characters have to be a little jovial though – otherwise they become curmudgeons.

It’s hard to write when a glass of wine is your sand timer – the rate of descent is too uneven to develop a steady pace.

Starting to feel better. I became overwhelmed with the knowledge of the absence of God today. I could have said that I became overwhelmed with the knowledge of the presence of evil, but that makes it sound like an excerpt from “Twilight.” In the span of a couple of weeks I have run into a couple of people that weren’t evil, but the absence of God in their life was so complete that it felt as though my heart had had a run-in with a melon-baller. They were jovial in their ignorance, but their indifference to good created a storm in my soul. Quiet reverence is no match for a jovial indifference to God. A more active role is going to be necessary…

Two months between posts gives me a quiet confidence – like I’m shouting in an empty room.

There is a condition in sales that is a little like post-partum depression. Birthing a paycheck in real estate can take months, and in the case of some clients, sometimes years. Once the home is found or an offer is agreed upon, there is still 30-60 days of waiting, culminated in a paycheck that is spent as quickly as it cashed. Working so hard for such a quick labor brings on its own case of baby blues, and I seem to get a case with every closing. Closings have been frequent, so I guess I feel like I’ve just had quintuplets. When you have that many kids at once, people revel in the fact that everyone is healthy. Knowing that everyone is healthy doesn’t mean that everyone is happy. Happiness is best maintained at a measured pace, so I’m embracing the day and finding a rhythm.

The most recent cover of WIRED magazine is a warning to environmentalists, and I recommend that everyone give it a read. What WIRED uncovers is going to fly in the face of the environmental movement, but perhaps those actually concerned with saving our earth will swallow their pride and start modifying their protest speeches. I don’t want to steal the thunder from the article, so let me just wet your attention with a list of a few things that we should be doing to protect our planet – things that have been the whipping boys of the environmentalist movement. As the article is entitled, these really are “Inconvenient Truths”:

1. Live in the city – the larger the better.

2. Organic foods will kill our planet faster.

3. It’s more effective to treat forests like crops.

4. We should be building more nuclear power plants.

5. Buy a used car instead of a Prius.

I’m sure that all of the comments came from people that hadn’t been to my blog before, and I’m also fairly certain that my regular visitors didn’t care as much about the issue, since I didn’t get any comments from them. I think that’s fair to say…?

I’m tired and overworked, so I think I’ll go to bed now. Carol, the post with the pic that gave you so much trouble should be off the main page now. Let me know if that helps.

It might stem from some unaddressed form of narcissism, but I think I’m just victim to a good name: Jesse Dylan Moore. I once called into a radio show and the dj aired our discussion about the quality of my name: the rhythmic cadance, the phonetic waterfall, the cascading powerflops of masculine names, one into the other.

So, a good name coupled with a 2nd Grade Penmanship award results in…a fixation. Get me bored or trapped in a class of some sort and I’ll be writing my name a hundred different ways, or find me working on an artistic representation of my initials (see above) that looks like an organized dance of raindrops.

As I found myself doing when in the company of a 6-year girl. After drawing a horse. And a saddle. So then I drew the above and the six-year old couldn’t tell what it was. And I almost tattooed this on my body at one time in my life. Which would have been a better choice than the cross that I formed with friends into the shape of a cross and then heated in a campfire for the purposes of a quick branding. Given my threshold for pain, there’s a good chance the 6-year old wouldn’t know what that was supposed to be if it was burned into my shoulder either.

My business partner (Dennis) and I started the Pickett Street Property Team on May 1st, 2006. Starting a new business and implementing new systems takes some time, so the production of our new web site became a slow and painful process. Dennis and I both came from a design background, so we not only wanted a functional website, but an aesthetic one as well. Aesthetic websites in our industry are few and far between, usually text heavy (for Search Engine Optimization (SEO) – hoping that the more the use the words “real estate” on the same page the higher their page ranking will be – look at THIS SITE and THIS SITE as examples of this). Dennis and I also wanted a site that ranked well, but not at the cost of design.

As I said, I might be jumping the gun a little bit. The site isn’t completely done, and might be more of a placeholder than anything right now. Still, it’s better than nothing, and we anticipate the incomplete elements of the site to be finished within the next couple of weeks. PickettStreet.com is being constructed by VisualScope Studios (owned by Tetsu, a client of mine), and I built PickettStreetBlog.com, where we’ll be updating consumers of industry news and Pickett Street business.

This is a link-happy post – click around, let me know what you think.

I say this because right now I’m wonderfully content. Merely describing my current setting (mostly horizontal in our Lane Recliner, watching the NFL playoffs, laptop saddled over my legs) is merely a physical description of a scene that some might find relaxing. Much harder to describe is my emotional state of contentment.

It started on the 17th of December, on a slow train ride to Montana. I had worked with fervor every December day prior to that train ride, trying to shore up business to sustain two weeks of inactivity (I don’t think “vacation” is an appropriate word when you’re self-employed. I’m not getting paid, and every day I’m not working is a day I’m not earning. An awareness of this can create a sense of anxiety that those who are on “vacation” don’t suffer from). This fervor had me in a constant state of readiness, which sustained over two or three weeks in row only creates a state of exhaustion. The train ride forced me to decompress – the lack of cell service forced me to shut up – the lack of internet connectivity forced me to reflect (rather than project). As I stated in my post at that time, the train ride was a perfect transition from the hectic life we were escaping to the deep sigh that we call Montana.

The next two weeks actually felt like a vacation. Trips to the ranch don’t often feel that way – not necessarily because of the work that needs to be done, but merely because I don’t escape the atmosphere of work. I would hardly call being a realtor hard labor, and while I enjoy physical work, I’ve found that I mentally need to release myself from an expectation of work to fully relax. Thanks to a warm snap in Eastern Montana (and to the good graces of my parents), there really wasn’t a lot of pressing work to be done, which allowed me a couple of good days to chill. After reading two books (in as many days), I was ready to go, and my brother-in-law and I spent the next few mornings cutting and stacking firewood.

I returned to Washington in time for my birthday, which we celebrated with friends last night. Together our bible study group ate chips and dip, watched the Seahawks win (what a game!), and played an extremely long game of Texas Hold ‘Em. Everything about it contributed to my state of emotional contentment: hosting friends, watching our team win, playing music, trying to keep Alex and Tom on task (I now know how Sisyphus feels), and sharing a bottle of wine with an old friend (thanks Luck).

I’m alone now, as I said, almost fully reclined, watching the Jets and Patriots on tv. And after writing all of this, I’ve realized that contentment is probably most easily defined as an absence of worry.

And perhaps it’s that realization that leaves me relaxed.

It will be hardest when I go to work out. The cardio machine will remind me everytime that it asks me for my age that I’m not 29 anymore (or ever again). I’m not clutching to the twenty-something status with a death grip, but on this first day as a 30 year-old, I’m having some trouble releasing my hold entirely.

It seems appropriate though – I’m turning grey, my back hurts, and my metabolism has slowed (perhaps overnight). Still, I’m happy to have obtained a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, and friends that are much older than me (like 31 – some are even 32 or 33!). So today I plan on working out, going to the chiropractor, and spending time with people that like me.

Merry Christmas!

Amtrak was four hours late rolling into Everett last night, mostly due to a series of circumstances related to the storm that struck the Puget Sound not 48 hours before. Since our chances of picking up a favorable jet-stream are greatly reduced in a train, I imagine that we’ll be rolling into Williston, ND four hours late as well. In all, we will have spent the better part of 24 hours in our car – which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds. We relegated ourselves to a lower-level unit, which either seems off-limits or IS off-limits, as we practically have the entire car to ourselves while passengers teem like ants above us.

There is something romantic about taking the train. I think it’s a perfect segue away from the bustle of Seattle and into the long sigh of Montana. I’ve been without cell service practically the entire way, and even when I have cell service my Sprint Broadband Card fails to recognize it. So instead of talking on the phone and writing emails (like I do everyday), I’m left to play with my daughter, talk to my wife, and read my book, leaving me thankful for a lack of outside interruption.

I’m fairly certain that the radio industry is suffering, only because every Amtrak employee that grabs the PA system on this train has a wonderful voice for making announcements. They need to work on their material a little – maybe a little less use of the phrase “Ladies and Gentlemen” and perhaps a Post-it note reminding them of the announcement they are supposed to be making. For example, the last announcement went a lot like this:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Matt in the Café service. Just a reminder to let you know that by my watch we have moved into the Central Time zone – which makes it 9:55pm now. This tells me that Rachel in our upstairs café will be shutting things down in the next five minutes, so hurry over. I, on the other hand, will be here until 11:00pm – that’s right, Ladies and Gentlemen – another hour! So feel free to come by and buy yourself a soda, a beer, or some snacks. Williston appears to be our next stop, so if you’re leaving us in Williston, have a Happy Holiday! And if you’re not…(long pause),…have a happy holiday as well.”

That last part seemed to phase poor Matt, whose radio-friendly voice hinted at dejection as he signed off. They like to make announcements like these fairly often too – seemingly every time the railroad has lulled Selah to sleep. The tone and frequency of the messages play like the teasers at a movie theatre, with a dramatic flair that makes arriving in Shelby, MT sound like a blockbuster event.

Almost time to get off. I do hope that my Broadband cards works while I’m in Miles City, if for no other reason than making my dad mildly jealous and to keep up with the posts. God bless.