Substitution

That was one long nap. I will probably go back to sleep soon. I get to sleep in until 4 a.m. tomorrow. Woo? Heh.

There is a little desire to do something superstitious now. This is making me feel like I'm backsliding into my fantasy world. Magic, dreams, the god represented as the sun, the goddess represented as the earth, and all the other stuff still swirls around inside me. It is mostly just a distant memory. Sometimes, though, I long for that ritual aspect. Sometimes I give in to it. It's been many months, but it's lurking in there. Comfort doesn't mean truth. I know this. I'm not sure how to proceed without it, though. The fact that others would just laugh at my need for it makes me want to crawl back into myself and do what feels right, and fuck them all. Derision and shame tend to make me want to rebel and do whatever it is all the more.

I didn't leave all of it behind just to go back to it out of spite.

I didn't leave because of bad emotional reasons. I left because the results were exactly the same whether I did ritual or I didn't. I left because all the evidence I had pointed to it all being just plain imagination. I liked paganism. It didn't make it true.

My attempts at Christianity left me hating myself and thinking God hated me. I also never could actually take it literally. This pagan stuff was easier because it was all symbolic. Mental links to how I interpreted the world. Of course, I felt that one could change one's life by meditating on symbols and getting my mind to align with a new way of being. Well, the results were exactly the same whether I framed it as spiritual or not.

Leaving paganism was a lot harder than leaving the cultural push toward Christianity. As it isn't really very organized, it doesn't yield the toxic level of sludge that Christianity does. It has potential. In groups, it was easier to see how it could become just another way to hurt people. As an individual way of thought, it was far more pleasant, though.

And some part of me picked up on the idea of reincarnation as a toddler. I never seemed to be able to let that go until this summer. It was a really hard habit to break, too.

But I do feel the need for something along the same lines, without the superstition, to mark the passing of the year. The need in me is really strong, tonight. I don't know how to cope with this, yet.

I don't want to enter 2017, I'm terrified of it. I wanted to hang on to this year forever. Stay in this limbo as long as I can. The year ended well for me. The world hated this year, but I ended up loving it. I'm having a very hard time saying goodbye. So, yes, I want some kind of marking to help me ease the pain of saying goodbye to it and embracing the fear of this year we're heading into. I need a substitution for what I used to do.

Penultimate, But Close Enough

The fact that I work at 4 a.m. on New Year's Day, and that things might be stressful means that I am somewhat celebrating New Year's today. I haven't really gone to a party for years. It's been much longer since I did any of the things that used to mean so much to me, at the turn of midnight. That old superstition that how I'm doing at midnight will be a portent of how the rest of the year will go has faded away.

There is still a little sadness that I will be alone for it, again this year. Valentine's Day will follow on the heels of it quickly, too. Oh, I know full well that I am okay on my own. I prefer to play my Sims on their own, because it is so much easier to see how one little being - even a digital one - can be good alone. I would rather be alone than with "just anyone" as well. I've been through enough bad dates to know I prefer loneliness to being with anyone that would make me feel worse.

If I were to spend it with someone that brings me joy, it would be the best thing, ever. However, I'll take no one at all over miserable relationships. I am just kinda sick of being alone every New Year's Day. I suppose that is why I comfort myself with the fact that the day is a random event that is much like my birthday. Life goes on, with or without a partner, right?

I've been taking it out on writing. I'm glad I can do something with it. In time, things will change. That is the only thing that remains true. Even if my workdays all seem exactly the same, right now. Change is bound to happen.

So, happy new year to everyone. I'll raise my cheap moscato for you all. Penultimate day of 2016, but close enough for me. ;)

On Caving In

A few days ago, I wrote, "I guess this entry is me trying hard to keep myself from buying it." Which was about the Nine Inch Nails Fragile Deviations 1 album. Today, I caved in and bought it. There was just a little more money than I expected in my account, and instead of a really large drop on something else that I want but do not even remotely need. $90 total for the album and the shipping is better than anything I'd spend on an iPhone 7. I seriously don't need a phone. When the hell did I get this materialistic bug stuck in my head?

Also, I bought a new journal to open and use on January 1st. The ones I'm using have entries that go back to February 2015. The things going on in my life at that time embarrass me now. I want a new, clean book to start over again. I will put up those books and ignore them for a while.

Listening to the polish on the older songs and the new released material from that era has me feeling the need to review 1999, myself. What a crazy time that was, for me, but with a different result than whatever the music means to the artist. As it hits my ears, it converts into something outside of the artist, and becomes a part of me. Not only due to memories, but because I have a sort of synaesthesia that converts sounds to touch, in varying ways. Music is the most intimate of this phenomenon. My brain doesn't just emotionally feel music. It is just like touch to me. The sound and touch intertwining in this album is all sorts of euphoric and pleasurable to me.

It took about three months to remember all the different parts of the songs. I have no idea how long it will take to incorporate this version into my brain's memory landscape, totally.

I am so very glad I am in a completely different life with different circumstances than I was then. I'm glad I get to make new memories of listening to these songs, now. Life now is genuine and whole. I had sold myself out to try to be happy according to what other people told me to do, because I didn't trust myself. Trusting others to have a handle on what will work for you in your life is a recipe for disaster. I began to untangle myself in 2004. It would be three years before I fully unraveled all of it.

Not everything now is perfect. I've made sacrifices along the way that leave me lonely. However, when I go through all those years, I know that I am healing, and getting closer to true contentment. I am definitely authentic. I do not lie anymore about the important things. To myself or anyone else.

That actually makes me feel so damned good. The music is darker. The themes are darker than usual. And yet I am uplifted. All the feel-good chemicals are being released. My purchase is vindicated.

We're Not Here Forever

The deaths this year were devastating to watch, even if my truly emotional connections to artists are with people who are luckily still very much alive. One thing I keep feeling smacked upside the head about is the need to get my writing back on track. Some of it has been taking place. It needs to be structured and refined, in many, many ways. However, after nearly a decade without writing, this was a big step for me.

I need to get the stories that are still rolling around inside me, out of me. They need to be out in the open air. Even if only a few people ever get around to reading them, they need to be told. I don't even know why. Does any artist ever know exactly why they do something? Beyond believing in nebulous, unproven concepts like being chosen by something invisible to do it, I mean.

When my mother often pointed out to me that I was drawing simple objects before I could say the words, I feel I was trying to do exactly what I have done, since then. Just get the thoughts in my head out into the world. I drew a fish on a chair before I could properly walk. Whatever my toddler brain was trying to do, it seems I'm still trying to do.

I need something to get me back into the world of writing, though. I'm so rusty, I'm surprised everyone doesn't cringe at the sound of my grinding hinges as they read my words.

No one makes it out alive. As long as there are no accidents, I've probably got a good two and a half decades to go, at minimum. That doesn't sound as long to me now as it did when I was 20. Thankfully, I am holding on to every day, month, and year with all my might.

Now, to get myself prompted into a better structure - resembling what I once had when I was much younger. Now, before it's too late.

Despite

There appear to be some weapons my brain still possesses to terrorize and hurt me. In most cases, the numbness and pointlessness bind me. Movement and thought are too slow to be useful. I'm not even sure if I have some sinus inflammation or if I'm just bogged down, mentally. The physical symptoms of un-sad depression mimic those of other illnesses, sometimes. My muscles all ache, there is pressure, there is lethargy. I slept when I got home and rested, even after a whole lot of caffeine.

There is a struggle to type anything. The words are pointless, too. Yet, I keep going, because I must. I keep asking myself why I need to type these things out, day in and day out. Other people can go on through life without expressing a thought in their heads. I'm not one of them. While there is plenty I keep hidden, with a secret life no one will ever see, there are parts of me that long for exposure. So I plod on through the writing of these things.

It's been a habit since I was at least 8, with my little Hello Kitty notebooks. At this point, answering this question or not answering it is moot. The result remains the same. I write whatever I can get out of me. It just happens.

Sometimes I look for prompts. Sometimes I just start writing "I have nothing to say" until that's a lie. I have erased variations on "Nothing is happening in my head" so many times, that motif alone could fill volumes.

No matter the little exposure the words get, they come out. No matter how little value assigned to them, they get written. No matter if I want to do it or not. It happens. There would have to be a massive change in my social status to deter me. Until then, I don't mind that there are only a few views. I didn't mind when I was on Open Diary, Livejournal, and before all that, Geocities. I had a few internet friends there. We've all moved on. The same will happen here. I don't mind. I just keep writing.

As my brain and perhaps my sinuses and muscles ache me into solitude, today, I feel good about it. It's all good, today. The quiet feels nice. The lack of presence of other humans, now that the kids have returned to their father's home, is a good thing. I have a very quiet playlist in the background, so as not to drown out the roaring wind. It all feels right, today. I feel like all of the different parts of me are in alignment. It's good, even if I'm not all well.

This Is My Personal Journal

After 42 other New Year's Days, the only thing I know is that I, in my own life, regarding only my own experience, I need to stop hinging all my hope on New Year's. The oldest superstition I have that I also find I can't let go of is that whatever I am doing at midnight will portend what the rest of my year is going to be like. I know it's not true, but it sticks in me. For me, and in my own world, alone.

I cannot let myself place all my hopes on this one day. Last year, I did, and I paid dearly for believing this was the signal of truly better times to come. In my own life. Not yours. Not your world. Not the rest of the world's year. Mine.

There was a new department coming. I was going to be in it. I was going to take a step up from where I was, too. I had the biggest optimism I've ever had in my personal life. The new year coming in was a little too huge to me. When things began to fall apart, and I spent the better part of half a year failing and being miserable, that new year optimism made me feel like a big fool. I can't do that, again.

As I enter the 43rd New Year's Day, I have to keep myself in check. When I write publicly about my experience it isn't supposed to shame anyone else. I hope you all have great years ahead. As for me, I've got to be more cautious this year. I can't go through what I went through last year.

I understand it is arbitrary, rationally. My mind focused like a laser on it for many, many years. I used to perform a ritual and read tarot at midnight, for many years. This night had too much significance to me. I have to dial it back. I have to. Disappointment is even more intense nowadays than it was when I was younger. Because I ain't gettin' any younger. 43. I've done this 43 times, now. It is in only my interest to remind myself.

And though maybe I've read too much into something said publicly, I needed to make this clear, just in case one of the 7 views I got yesterday was someone I certainly would never want to hurt. I'm sorry if it hurt you. I'm still not convinced it has anything to do with me, personally, but a collection of us all writing similar things. I just want to make it clear why I needed to remind myself that the day isn't to hinge all my hopes on. Not yours. Just mine.

*But I really want a new journal with fresh pages to start over again, from scratch, even though I have almost half of my Tardis journal left to fill. I want a new, blank slate, damn it.

Season's Greetings

Although it has been better in recent years, Christmas still opens up a lot of small wounds. I can't skip it, with the way the split family with my kids works. They've been brought up with the traditions, and would probably be upset if I skipped it. I have poured work into it, this year. I was doing well. The day is here, now, though, and it's eating me alive.

I know what I don't have. I can't erase the knowledge.

And another year is wrapping up, with a week to go. The randomness of the new year date doesn't seem to matter. I want each year to start over, with promise of renewal and potential. I know, rationally, that it's just a continuation of what has been going on. I know that there's no significant change due on the day of. As we were unafraid of the end of the world on January 1, 2000, I know that January 1, 2017 won't bring salvation.

With weather like this, it only hammers home the point.

May your day be better than mine.

(I'm going with the true neutral "Season's Greetings" to be Switzerland in the War on Christmas. :P )

Music Geekery (NIN edition)

There was an email this morning, with a link to the EP I bought a few days ago. Nine Inch Nails noise greeted the day. It came with a warning that is was unfriendly and impenetrable. I doubt most people read about it before watching the Youtube video of "Burning Bright" and the reactions have been as harsh as expected, from the people you expect them from. The welcoming of the music-noise came from the expected places. (Me, being one.)

There's enough familiarity to know exactly who it is. The thing isn't catchy at all. There's not much to cling to, from that side of the band, though. A part of me was expecting some of the kind of noise on remix albums such as "Further Down the Spiral" so that I wasn't too shocked by it. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's just like that, but there's enough there to remind me.

I've been picking at the artwork since it began to emerge, as have others. Why the official download should look exactly like Still remains somewhat of a mystery, since the two albums couldn't be anymore radically different, unless given to another writer, altogether. There is the message that accompanied the release of an album released at the same time, based on music that was never used on The Fragile. Still was the first attempt made after the public disclosures of all that could go wrong having gone wrong, and the struggle to get and remain clean. Perhaps in revisiting the wounds from that era released a new set of sonic expressions as a cleanser to the work done on this new Deviations album.

I wonder if this is what happened when he tried to remaster and release an anniversary edition of The Fragile. A whole new album based on what got left on the cutting room floor, and then a cleansing EP? Either way, I cannot bring myself to pay $80, even though I am definitely the target audience for such an LP. I am not struggling, by any means, but I have plans for the money I've got coming in. Passports are not cheap, by any stretch of the imagination. Touring Europe won't be cheap, in any way, for me. I still have to regulate my budget.

But don't think I'm not struggling not to go back to the site and make a few clicks. It's pure torture, really, for me. Unless you are interested in something to the same degree, it's hard to explain why this is difficult.

To say The Fragile is my favorite of their albums is an understatement. It competes with The Cure's entire collection, for me. That's a really big deal, for me. If you watched me and my behavior over The Cure, then it should be apparent that this is something of a compulsion for me. Not buying the new Deviations is just torture.

I guess this entry is me trying hard to keep myself from buying it. Passport. Plane tickets. Hotels. Transportation. *goddamnitall I want that album*

Reminders of Shame

Today was an odd day for me. The younger of my two children was invited to "shop with a cop." He spent the day participating in their activities, and they bought him some items. One was a drone. An expensive little machine that I've secretly been wanting to get myself for over a year. It will be something we will work with together.

Also, where I live brings with it benefits to holiday presents and food. I received wrapped packages for the kids and myself, as well as the traditional food for the meal on Sunday. These things are welcome additions to my life. They make things easier, all around.

It reminds me, though, that once again, if I were still making half of what I now make, people would not expect me and my kids to have the things we are getting. The idea that poor people are given gifts such as a drone, nice clothes, and a decent meal flies well over the heads of many of the bigots I encounter on a regular basis. The idea that I didn't cash in on some illegal side economy is foreign to them. I've heard the rhetoric far too often. Poor people with nice things just doesn't compute in their heads, as others wanting to give them gifts.

Perhaps it is because these people would absolutely not, on threat of hellfire and damnation, ever give gifts to the poor. The poor are people who got that way because of bad morals and worse decisions, they themselves could never make. Perhaps they are truly ensconced in a bubble where they've never been dealt a blow that took months or years to recover from. They've never had to use any service they've paid into, or that others benevolently offer to them.

I don't know what their thinking really is. I've never been there. I was born into poverty. My life was a stream of using the safety nets and charity. I pay it forward when I can. I know that side of life better. The memes that come around shortly after the holidays, when people notice someone who is struggling financially has a nice item they could not have afforded on their own salary/stipend, is foreign and abominable to me.

In defense of those who have been offered gifts beyond our own means, please try to do a little bit of research before you throw your fellow humans off the cliff of benevolence. Your cynicism is a lie. Your brain is lying to you. Listen to the stories around you, from people who have been there or have worked with enough people who've been there. Try harder. Be a human, for once, before posting that garbage meme again.

Curious

Sunday is over, that leaves Monday, Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday. Four working days left. The two off days don't count. I'm not going anywhere near businesses on Wednesday and Thursday, if I can possibly manage it. It really isn't worth it.

I've avoided as much stress as I can, this weekend. There were minor rough patches. There was a lot of pain that suddenly went away, yesterday. Either swelling receded enough to relieve me or my nerve endings gave up. Either way, I'm okay with it. As long as I'm not in near tears anymore.

The dramatic, storyline style dreams are happening in force. Two nights ago, I had a great dream. It was full of love, security, a house to attend to, and comfort. Last night, I had a dream about making a decision to sacrifice myself to try to change things in a better direction and wake people up, which was thwarted by a co-conspirator. There was a time, before these last few months, when I didn't remember my dreams. Or the dreams I did remember were literally mash-ups of events of real days - work, arguments, driving, and the like. The vivid movie-dreams are a welcome change, but only once I've shaken the feeling they are real, and leave me upset, when they're not happy.

It isn't that I put a lot of stock into them. It's just how powerful and consuming they are to me that amazes me. My imagination never lacked. There isn't a moment I don't have actual pictures and "movies" playing in my head. Even as I watch actual shows on a screen, there is another whole world going on, inside my head. The dreams have just taken on an even more realistic quality that I was not expecting after so many months without them.

I wonder what the catalyst has been? My personal life smoothed out tremendously. The rest of the world upsets me. Strange ratio. The more turbulent my personal life, the more realistic and forgettable the dreams. The more peaceful my personal life, the more vivid and turbulent my dreams.

Soon, it'll be time to head to sleep again. I wonder what my brain has in store for me, tonight.

One More Week

Today, it was warmer and there was thunder. How I do love me some thunder. Oh yes. There's not the high quality of enjoyment there should be. It's going back to being in the 20's and teens starting tomorrow. Though there are some 40's in there, too, in a few days. The extremes annoy me, a lot. This sort of weather makes for some aggravation.

This morning, the roads were odd. All of the smaller, side streets were just wet. There was no ice on my car. Then, when I hit the first five lane major road, it was a sheet of ice, for the duration of my drive to the highway. I had to go pretty slowly. I was already late when I reached just a few stop lights away from my workplace. There was a police cruiser blocking the two lanes on my side of the road. No cars were driving down the opposite side of the road, meaning they'd blocked it down some ways I couldn't see.

Luckily I got there before there was any real backup. I managed to dip into a subdivision that led out to the back road to the store. I managed to get in just two minutes after my shift officially started. It was within my seven minute grace period, that the time clock uses to break down the quarter hours. It will go unnoticed. Others weren't so lucky. There were some who had normal 20 minute drives extended to 45 or more minutes. Apparently many people slid off the road.

Black ice might not look like much, when you compare it to those shots of four-foot blizzards, but it is deceptive. There always seem to be far more accidents when we can't see the ice than when we can. No, we don't get the massive blizzards that are photographed each year. We don't dip lower than a -20 degree weather now and then. The ice will kill you, though, if you're not prepared for it. Tornadoes and ice are the two lethal things here. (*I'd like to take this moment to remind you 4x4's won't do you any good on ice. And yes, your brakes will work the same as mine. Tailgating in this fucking ice is fucking stupid.)

I managed to avoid those who willfully ignore the dangers. I also crept along safely in the areas that were slick, and I am safe. My car is safe. The world continues to turn. And more cold is expected. Just in time for the worst week in retail employment. Yikes. This week is going to be hard. I do get three days off next week. Including a Sunday. We'll be closed Christmas. By default, I get that day off. That will be nice. I just need to get through this week, right?

Morbid

Today, it was imperative that I work outside in the cold for a few hours. When I did come in from the cold, the back room where we are stationed was very little warmer. I'd forgotten exactly how much I detest the cold. I don't particularly like being in the sun in 90+ degree weather, but I recover far easier from that. It's been four and a half hours at home, under covers, and I still feel a little numb. My fingers are not fully recovered.

Then the news of the day made its way into my life. I really wish I could tune it out. It all seems so overwhelming. I need to take a break. Survival instincts are kicking in. I mean, China took one of our drones, because Trump is breaking the major rule about Taiwan. They're showing our dear, fearless leader that they mean business when it comes to their one China rule. Trump won't listen. His blind and deaf followers won't listen.

Maybe they'll listen when death comes.

This is the only thing that ever makes a dent. I don't want this. I don't want to see us get destroyed, but it looks like this is inevitable, now. I had such terrible dreams in October. Then they resurfaced after my few weeks of optimism were nuked. I'm sorry it has to be this way. I really thought progress was inevitable. Looks like war and total annihilation is actually the only certainty in life.

I made my predictions on a Twitter rant. I still hope I'm wrong.

Until that day, I will continue to live as well as I can. No one can take that from me. Also, no one will take away the only, small voice I have here. I'm not going to live in terror. It all comes to the same conclusion. The only uncertainty is when.

Wow, I'm morbid. I will stop here.

More Rest

The body is a feat of survival. It was not designed, however, and therefore functions poorly in several areas. My body is not functioning very well, at all, today. It started yesterday, in all honesty. I know it's been doing its jobs as best it can. I just can't see how these things have to all happen at the same time. None of it will kill me, and none of it is truly brutal, each by themselves. Added all together, I just want to hide out away from the rest of the world for a while.

Strangely, this was after my sinuses cleared up as well as my mental outlook having improved by leaps and bounds. I can't blame it on stress. I'm pretty relaxed, this week. I can't blame it on anything I've eaten. I haven't had any alcohol. Unless I was getting hooked on allergy and sinus medicine, and now I'm going through withdrawal because of reducing my intake.

Though the promise to myself to do something enriching still stands, it's going to be something here at home. I don't feel like getting out the foundation and blemish cover pencil just to go to the woods. Seems a bit of a defeat to do that. The idea of running into other people has set off a wave of anxiety though. I'll just continue to rest and treat myself at home, as if I'm still sick. After all blood vessels in delicate regions, intestines, pores, and lip membranes need help healing too.

Wonder what there is to watch on Netflix. Supernatural is on a hiatus for the next month, after all. Maybe something funny, without viciousness, will do, today. Otherwise, today is just a terribly cold, terribly boring day.

Keeping Busy

Now, the major presents have been ordered. Smaller items like stocking-stuffers can be bought after work. If I actually have time. There has been a lot of mandatory overtime. I'm not going to complain. As I said, it's eating my time, and leaving me with less free time to brood. That's a win-win for everyone. My finances are doing very well because of it, too. No need to worry about that, for now.

Today, I spent most of the day cleaning. Not really organizing or trying to sort through what needs to go and what can stay. I still need to do a lot more of that. I have no idea why I have so much stuff. Blankets, towels, craft supplies, mementos, tapes, CDs, CD-Roms, floppy disks, boxes, bags, totes, a suitcase, camping supplies, board games, shoes and boots, etc. There are a lot of clothes I never wear, too. Also, the remaining toys that my 11 year old will never touch, again, must be sorted into donate or toss piles. There is just too much stuff in here.

I understand that my years and years of poverty have made it difficult for me to part with things, but I need to do this. I need to downsize my stuff. It's just clutter. It's driving me crazy, too. After I washed a lot of my 11 year old's  winter clothes, and some of my necessities, I still have three hampers and two baskets of laundry to do. I have a lot of towels, sheets, and blankets. I've been ignoring most of that all summer and fall. I need to go through those things, too.

There's no rhyme or reason to this utter urge to purge. It just is.

As far as this snow coming down, all I can say is "Yuck." It's not sticking, at least. However, it's going to be super cold for the next three days. I foresee ice. That means earlier fucking mornings and pain in my hands and toes. Yuck. It will be 50 on Saturday, though. I can't wait.

When my two days are split, even with just one day between, it feels like I can't do anything but necessities. Thursday, though, I will make an effort to do something that I like. There was a reason I had to clean today. Once I started, I just couldn't stop. Thursday, it'll still be good in here, and I will be sure to do something that enriches me. I promise me.

Stasis

There is a part of me that has become addicted to work. I don't do it because I like it. It isn't the money. It isn't the stuff I get from it. I don't like being there. I don't like doing it. However, it occupies me. I don't have to actually think about anything else. I don't have to worry about anything but getting the crap done.

When I get home, I'm faced with way too much I don't want to think about. In a way, it has taken over where all the articles and books I used to read. It requires almost nothing as far as real work on myself. I get to ignore me.

I realized I was not doing well, and I only worked the mandatory one hour overtime. I didn't stay longer. I think this was a little breakthrough. I allowed myself to think about me, and to actually take care of myself. It's been weeks since I actually sat down to assess myself.

As I said, I've become an expert at ignoring me.

Now I guess I have something new I need to work on.

Aside of not saying "sorry" anymore, I mean. I only said it 4 times, when in the midst of stress. It's just a fucking placeholder word. It means NOTHING to me. I want it gone. I want to only say it when I actually feel it, now. There are plenty of other things I actually mean in the circumstances I'm using it as a placeholder.

I guess I have to figure out who the fuck I am, now. See if I'm really on the verge of the next big shift in my life. See if I can work something that gives me meaning into my life. Figure out what I actually want to do besides go to work and come home, make dinner, help with homework, etc. Who is this person I am now? I've got all this time on my hands. I don't want to spend it working, just to keep from thinking. I'll add that to the to-do list.

Short

Obviously, I don't even know what to do with any free time I get. All I want to do is curl up in a blanket and pillow cocoon and sleep. It really was a pity that my body had all the energy in the universe when I was a teenager. I had no freedom and no money. Now, I have freedom and money, and all I can manage is to sit here and rest. All the punishments when you're young become your greatest rewards as an adult.

I really ought to try to do more.

I really ought to get out more.

But the electric blanket over the microfiber sheets is too nice a place to leave.

Beyond Pessimism

The difference between the end of this year and the end of last year is in attitude.

Last year, I was so optimistic. Changes in my personal life were coming. I believed they would be better. I thought it would make a significant dent in all the mundane struggles I had been living with. I also believed the world would shift upward even more significantly. I truly thought we'd crossed a threshold to a new mindset. I though we would push even harder for a better world.

This year, the changes in my personal life with work look bleak and hopeless. This alone would be enough to send me into a tailspin. Add to it the fact that all progress is about to be snuffed out and repealed, and my outlook is far more than pessimistic. I'll fight, as always, but part of me wonders if it's worth the effort, anymore. I'll do most of the work I need to do out of habit. Not because I actually think it'll help.

Where most people are going to mark the end of 2016 with some major symbolic gesture of "good riddance" I feel like it's worthless. The new year will just be a continuation of this year. Everything that's been happening will continue to happen, and snowball into something so massive we can't escape. Why bother marking it off? It's an arbitrary day, anyway.

I'm not sure what comes after pessimism. Whatever you call that stage, that's where I am. This is one hell of a huge difference from last year.

Distract Me

What I need are better distractions. As soon as I think there's going to be a small plateau and rest from some unnecessary drama, something else comes in to smash the peace to bits. In order for me to forget the job and focus on anything but the job, I need to look into other areas of life. The same track might be safe, most of the time, but right now, it is not. It's actually become a danger and impediment. It's time to move forward.

I'll have to figure out how to find new interests to keep me busy. The last time I found things I loved, it was through Stumble Upon. I wonder how that's going. My circles online are just too narrow. I must broaden my range. Stagnation leads to feeling trapped.

I've spent far too much time online for 21 years, and yet I still have trouble branching out from sites once I get set in a routine. Although I suspect that happens a lot. After all, we should have migrated away from Facebook and Twitter by now. I can't believe we've stagnated on those sites. There has to be something that will usurp those thrones.

If nothing else, maybe I'll start reading more existentialist works at bedtime. It'd be a good headspace to get into before heading to work in the morning. Just remembering that, in the end, none of it really matters will help keep me calm when they're trying their best to fracture my psyche.

I cannot detail here what is going to happen. I can predict, internally, that the changes coming are premature. We are not ready for them. They were done out of order, and the ivory tower managers who decided these things are going to blame us when their *brilliant* (not at all) plans cause more headaches and unhappiness than help their sales.

Seriously, whoever's playing this game of The Sims with me as the character is an asshole.

Maybe I should play my own game, and torture my own character. That might help.

Brighter

The day looks brighter. Both the weather and my mood. I really did get a lot of rest yesterday. I guess I needed it.

 It is getting colder. It will be very cold in a couple days. I should probably do something, but my sinuses are still annoying me a little. My ears are still ringing a bit, and I feel a little dizzy. I took some Sudafed, had some coffee, and then ate chocolate covered donuts.

No matter what, I keep living. I feel really good, too. Like I can make myself better than I have been. Optimism is returning to me. My sense of humor is back. It isn't just black humor, either. This is progress.

I still need to wash the last of my winter things, my work clothes, and towels. I need to do a thorough cleaning of the litterbox. I would like to sort through my closet. I would like to sort through the toys. Every time I sit up, though, my head says, "Not today, Satan." Well, that's how it's going to be, I guess.

I finally feel okay, mentally, and my head makes it hard to enjoy. :P

Bitter, Yes

The day was rather misty and cold. My head felt better, but I stayed mostly in bed. I made a few French press carafes of coffee. I had microwaved vegetables with beans. I ate a lot of other snacks. I took a generic Sudafed/Advil thing and stayed in bed. I think I feel much better. The exhaustion is still present.

In mental spheres, my head bounced around in a bitterness that I, once again, had absolutely zero support through this mess of an anniversary week. I'm trying not to take it personally that even the one post I made about it on fb went virtually unnoticed. After all, I am always the only one here for me. Mostly, people just bounce their thoughts off of me, and run off. The more people I know, the less I like people.

This is something I'm working through, today. So what if the only contact I seem to get is for someone to complain about someone else to me? That's all people ever do. Bitch about someone else at me. So I just do the same back at them. It doesn't matter. I still have me. That's why I write online so goddamned much. Since no one gives two shits about how this week affected me, I'll just write it out where I can get it out of my system. I care about me. As it was when I was fucking born, so shall it be until I fucking die, I guess.

Tomorrow, I'll feel differently again, I'm sure.

Looking Ahead

Yesterday was the last round of the anniversary days for the year. Granted, the funeral was on the 7th, but that day doesn't matter nearly as much as the 4th. Whatever process my brain used to filter it, all of the pain resides mostly in the 4th. Especially with this many years between the event and now.

There is a huge worry about next year. I will be 44 and a half. My mom was a little tiny bit older than that when she died. Her birthday was in March, and mine is in June. However, it will be close enough for me to worry. I look like her, I have the same mental afflictions as her, at times, and I'm pretty close to feeling like she must have felt, from time to time. When 2018 rolls around, will I have outlived her, or not? Time will tell. I can't answer that, right now.

No matter how I fill up the time, the fact remains that it doesn't have any real meaning. The things I have done to make it all feel like I am actually alive are so temporary. All that has happened in the last year feels ephemeral to me. Wisps of mist evaporate quickly. The veil of joy dissipates quickly.

The fact remains clear to me that I must fill up my time, even more. Activities, events, and work will be an even larger concern for me, in the coming months. I keep hoping for life to feel good, again. I have worked on ways to fill it all in, but I fall short. I'm terribly restless.

Another Goodbye

Most of the time, it's not possible to travel back in time. Then a memory so intense returns as if you're reliving it. As with all scenarios of time travel, there is no way to change what is happening. Only witnessing history is possible. With that in mind, I am witnessing my own history. The time folded in on itself, today, 24 years ago.

I haven't mastered future time travel, but I am a professional at going into my own history. Today is a day that will always live in my head as if no time had passed at all. I close my eyes, and the traumatic phone calls, the angering relaying of information into the last moments of my mom's life, and my first drive through a snow storm in the mountains is right before me.

When the tractor trailers gathered around me, and drove in formation around me, while blinding snow blew at me, I was just numb. As I came into the Ohio Valley, where there was just a meager rain and wind, and had very little washer fluid left, the world looked more grim than ever. Little did I know then that this would be the constant in my life for several years.

Had I known, I wouldn't have come back. I'd have cut the ties, as I was trying to do. Hindsight is better than glasses for correcting vision, though. Everything was a blurry mess, to me, then. There was no future time travel for me. Only living in the moment, trying to survive. As it would be for years. If only I had known I'd cut the ties just a bit more than two years later, I could have perhaps evaded so much pain.

Coming back to the here and now, I am glad that this is all the past.

No grave stone can give me comfort. I've only gone a few times. A name engraved serves no purpose to me. So I look back in my own mind, and I do what I couldn't do, in the midst of an anxiety attack far greater than any I've ever experienced.

Believe me or don't. I'm fucking done with caring whether the shitheads I cut ties with believe it was true panic, and not just "for attention." Go fuck yourselves. I'll keep saying that until I die. All of you, go fuck yourselves. I spent every day of my life with her for about 19 years. You didn't. I had every right to feel what I felt and to panic.

Now I get to the end of this day, again, as I have 23 other times. As I close my eyes to sleep, again the safety of distance that comes with the passage of time comforts me.

I look at the picture and I can say "Goodbye" now.

After Rest

It's a new day here. The sleeping one next to me was having a hard time, and so ended up in my room. He's still so young, and he's like me with a face that looks childish, still. He'll be out the door in a few minutes. The heater, the clock tick, and perhaps the cat tearing up a box or bag will be the only sound for a while. There are dishes to do, again. There are still decorations waiting to go up. The floor needs a vacuum.

On the other hand, there is no going to work, for me. There are no major repairs to attend to. Later, my fifth grader will be free and without homework. There is no school tomorrow. We can just let it all go. Relaxation and rest will be my priorities on these two easy days. The more rest I have, the better my brain behaves.

I feel so much better about myself once I've actually had rest. I see so much more clearly how my world is becoming a better place for me. No, I don't know how long that will last. I don't know what hellish nightmare is in store for us. That, though, I'm going to leave to the future, today and tomorrow. For now, I know I did all I could with close to zero resources at my disposal. I am going to be okay, for a while.

It's all I have to hold on to, now. As the world burns, the rain falls, the blizzards start to form, my own world has not yet changed. I cling to it as I did that damned pink blanket I had until I was 8.