I could have dwelled on the hundreds of things that might go wrong in the next sixty seconds of my life–or the fact they could be my last–but when the pilot opened on the bay door, all I cared about was stepping onto the rail and rolling into open sky. Let me backtrack. I did my first sky dive today over the Jersey Shore, jumping at just under 10,000 feet. That was probably the only downside of the experience. By law, the pilot must remain 500 feet beneath the cloud ceiling, and a dense patch hung stubbornly at 10,300–an obstruction which cropped a precious second or two of free fall. Well, maybe next time I’ll get the difference back.

Oh yes, there will be a next time. I signed up for certification classes. Right now, I’m trying to recenter myself. Six hours later, the bulk of my thoughts flow like a stream carrying pieces of the free fall, the feel of my back wedged against the firewall of the plane, and the jump masters joking with each other on the ascent.

“Oh, Christ,” Jonathon said, as the plane veered down the runway a second before takeoff. “I hope it goes better today than last week.”

“You gotta get back on the horse,” Joe said.

“Hey, Joe, when was your first jump?”

“About thirty minutes ago.”

It would seem sky divers share my Far Side sense of humor. First I found a job where I fit in; now I found a hobby. What next?

Anyway, I need a few more beers to get back on planet Earth.

In honor of the event, an awesome coworker made shirts for the few, the proud, the jump list:

Front is a modified school mascot.

The back is even better.

The advance towards the Nicholl’s deadline continues…so close…so close. Four days and quite a few scenes left to write. Next time I enter this competition, it’s with a preexisting script.

Last week temperatures were fifteen degrees below the historic norm for spring; this week they are more than fifteen degrees above average. Another reason to love New Jersey. Because any given day the weather might necessitate a winter jacket, shorts or a handgun. Or perhaps all three on the same day.
Fired up the air conditioners last night. I report with great pleasure that three window units survived another winter of storage. The fourth probably did as well, I just have to mop the kitchen floor first as final spring cleaning chore. Till then, it remains in the closet, untested.

Four A/Cs for a single apartment? Before Al Gore comes a knocking, consider that the layout is fairly spacious. For instance, the living room is 18 X 21. Even a single unit of doom could not cool the entire apartment. And due to jumpered wiring, a maximum of two A/Cs can run at a time. Otherwise fuses blow and circuits trip, which means no cool air at all. Generally speaking, when the heat sets in, I pick a room of retreat and hang there for the duration.

Coming down to the wire with the Nicholl’s screenplay entry. Lot of work left for the deadline, but I am throwing everything at it.

Three activities I invested a lot of time on are ending at once: spring cleaning, the Nicholl’s competition, and round one of Project Get Agent. By Sunday, whatever hard core cleaning remains is tabled until mid May. Deadline for Nicholl’s is May 1, so * title redacted by sam * must be done in the next eight days. Preferably six, so I can revise a bit. And then there’s Project Get Agent.

Sending off another query/sample blast pack meted over the next few weeks, somewhere in the low double digits. Once those packages hit the post, I’ll be situated to easily–if necessary, as it’s always possible one takes me on–exceed the New Year’s resolution.

Otherwise, it’s pretty quiet. The school year ends soon–the students leave by May 31–and I must decide how to spend my four weeks of vacation. Oh, I will use every single day. Leaving an allowance like that on the table is criminal.

Some jobs suck; some rock. In terms of satisfaction a gratification though, a recent list compiled by the General Science Survey is very interesting.

Below are the top jobs in terms of satisfaction and the percentage of participants who indicated being happy about their job:

* Clergy—87 percent percent
* Firefighters—80 percent percent
* Physical therapists—78 percent percent
* Authors—74 percent
* Special education teachers—70 percent
* Teachers—69 percent
* Education administrators—68 percent
* Painters and sculptors—67 percent
* Psychologists—67 percent
* Security and financial services salespersons—65 percent
* Operating engineers—64 percent
* Office supervisors—61 percent

Two creative disciplines–writing and the arts–not only appear, they rank high on the list. Which is a surprise, because the entries mostly consist of vocations that place individuals in direct contact with the person they assist or manage. Jobs where there’s not only a built in feedback loop, but opportunities for connections with the larger community.

And yet, only firefighters, clergy and physical therapists indicate a higher satisfaction level than authors.

Clutter is the leading cause of distraction-which can lead to death, because when one fixates on random junk instead of walking, it’s easy to trip down the stairs and die–among the housebound. And perhaps the bored writer, too. I don’t know why this happened but the second I realized the sheer amount of crap in the apartment, I started attacking, pushing those tchotchkes towards the dumpster with no remorse. And I kept attacking, weeknight after weeknight. The blitz rolled into the weekend, and now Monday.

Feel like I’ve been at this for 10 days straight now, and a lot more extrication is still needed.

I am big believer in the notion of the more stuff you own, the more it owns you. Boy, do these articles of dis-use have my number.

Query: how exactly did I come to own a Butt Master?

Spike, a good friend and long time supporter of the site, is in eleventh hour talks with Google about a kick ass job. Cast a brother a little karma, please.

He’s earned it.