It's not over.

I'm tired, physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted.  I am safe but I am so bloody fucking tired.  I want to escape to a place where I can rest, and recharge, somewhere safe from the worries that plague me daily.   However, that's not possible, physically, mentally, or financially.

I'm stuck.  The depression and anxiety have taken their toll.  Even though the oncologist is quite happy with my renal cell carcinoma prognosis, it too has left me exhausted.

There is so much darkness in the world surrounding me, hatred and ignorance.  The angry orange shit gibbon with his penchant for Russian cock, Russian whore piss, and the complacent, complicit orange cocksuckers that is the GOP these days have left me hating what my country has become.  America is facing a moral and probably mortal wounding.  It saddens me.  It sickens and disgusts me.  This is not the United States of America that I used to love.  This is a dystopian cyberpunk nightmare.

Brown children in cages, the LGBTQ+ community under attack, the rich getting richer and the poor getting fucked.  This is the GODDAMN 21st century!  This is not how we're supposed to be.

I can only hope that we can come to our senses in November and begin the process of trying to fix this absolute fucking shit storm.

I am fucking exhausted, but I remain safe.
Peace, Love and Harmony to all of us.

Old habits...

...are apparently immortal.

Twelve down, one hundred and twenty-six to go.

Saturday evening in the wastelands.  Saturday night and I haven't put the proverbial pen to paper since Wednesday.  So much for staying in front of a thundering herd of readers, all twenty of you.  I took yesterday off and babied a migraine.  I took Thursday off to babysit a dying cat.

Several years ago the cat adopted my brother and his family.  When they moved back to Oregon we inherited him as well.  He just moved in, didn't skip a beat and did what cats do.  That said, we have no clue to his actual age.  He'd been dying for the past few weeks, his vet told us to keep him comfortable and call if he seemed to be suffering.

Wednesday evening he wanted to go outside, presumably to do what cats want to do.  Find someplace to die peacefully.   When he didn't return we assumed he had done what he set out to do.  Thursday morning the big white dog, (yep, still Elvis), began acting oddly and alerted me.  Mister Cat had crawled up to the back door.  Evidently, he wanted to die in the house.

I brought him in, gave him a warm blanket straight from the dryer and a cozy box.  I sat him here by my desk.  He died peacefully a couple of hours later.  He was comfortable and not alone, even Elvis checking in on him from time to time.

For most of my life death hasn't affected me profoundly.  Pets or people, everything dies.  I wasn't one of this cat's 'people-monkeys'.  He was just a cat.  In my lifetime I've met about 5 or 6 cats that I was actually fond of and meant something to me.  This one,  I fed on very rare occasions, and gave him oral antibiotics a few times until he started to run and hide whenever he saw me.  To say this animal's passing hasn't affected me would be a lie.  If I told you I didn't tear up when he died, or that my eyes are wet as I type would also be a lie.

Depression. Fucking. Sucks.  

Thanks for coming along for the ride.
Thirteen down, one hundred and twenty-five to go.

See you tomorrow.

Go Home Tweetyboid, you're drunk.

Ten down, one hundred and twenty-eight to go.

Wow!  What a concept.  The dashboard for the Ramble shows something I haven't seen in a while.  A number in the Scheduled row.  Albeit, it's only one, but a number nonetheless.  I'm not scrambling to get something ready for midnight.   By the looks of it that number will be two with about eight hours to spare.  Whoda thunk it?  I wonder how long it will be before the slacker dood returns.

So, you guys um, like stuff?

Twitter tells me I might like stuff too.  Based on my following Hillary Clinton the little bird says that I might like to follow Donald J. Trump and Marco Rubio?

DAFUQ?  I think the little bird has been in the fermented bird seed again, or eating those "special" seeds it finds on the ground, clean your shit better, no one wants a seed to pop in your face.  I'm not entirely certain the algorithms worked the way the should on this one.   I get entirely too much narcissistic, bombastic, misogynistic, racist, hate filled demagoguery as it is.   I don't think there is enough vodka or acid in the Kool-Aid to make me take that step.  Damages my calm.

Sanity is relative.  At least I'm not blowing bubbles with my spit or "Some gibbering old fool sitting all alone drooling on his shirt.  Some senile old fart playing in the dirt." Lou Reed, Beginning of a Great Adventure.  (Thanks Lou). 

One way or another it should be over by November.  With a bit of luck, (touch wood, not that I'm superstitious or anything), my stress, anxiety and depressions triggers will lessen.  Should it go the other way?  Does anyone out of the country have a spare bed I can bum while I play expatriate.  I have all of my shots, I'm kinda handy for a laugh or two, and am mostly house-broken; mostly that is.

Thanks for sitting in.  Eleven down, one hundred and twenty-seven to go.

See you tomorrow.

The Show Must Go On.

Such as it is, another entry.  Twelve to go to make six months, and twenty-one additional posts to get me through July.  No hockey to dwell on until October.  Two and a half months of lead time squandered, pissed away by apathy, laziness, lack of interest or motivation.  Now, instead of the safety of a buffer zone I'm writing this one about 8 hours before it goes to print.  Don't stop the presses.

The events of Sunday have affected me profoundly.  The depression and anxiety issues that have surfaced later in my life boiled over yesterday.  I was both angry and saddened.  I suppose I should consider myself lucky, those issues weren't issues on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001.  I'm certain it would have been an even more extreme day.

Things are better today, mostly.  The angry, orange troll keeps trolling, becoming angrier, trying to stir up even more fear, anger, hatred and divisiveness.

"Do you want four MORE years of Obama?  Do you want a 7-2 Liberal Majority in the Supreme Court?"

Why yes Donny, I'll take eight more as opposed to one FUCKING DAY with you.  Might even be convinced to sign on for twelve.

I cannot vote with my vagina, d'uh, wrong plumbing.  But Girls, Gurls, Grrls, Women, Womyn, Ladies, those of feminine genders and those of feminine persuasion, I will vote for yours and to keep the noses of rich white men out of them, unless of course, it's a mutual thing.

It wasn't much, but it ain't over yet.  Maybe tomorrow though.  Who knows?

As always, thanks for coming.  The show must go on...

See you in the future, maybe, probably???

I'm still playing.

It's hockey night tonight.  The regular season is winding down.  Our Bluenotes have clinched a playoff spot for the 40th time in their 50 year history.  The only team from the first expansion in 1967 not to have hoisted the Cup.  This is their year, touch wood.  (Not that I'm superstitious or anything.)  Still after a rough year plagued with stretches of bad play and injuries the Notes are currently tied with Dallas for first in the Central Division.  How badly have they suffered with the injured list?  As of today, they've lost 266 man-days to injury.  Through 75 games of an 82 game schedule an average of nearly 5 players, 25% of the roster. have missed every game.  St. Louis has not been able to bring their starting roster to the rink at all since the season opened on October 8th.

Yes, still ancient history, you still don't care, yada, yada, yada.  In order to write these, I need subject material.  No news, is not news, and nothing for me to write home about.  I will say that either through avoiding CNN, the use of an anti-depressant or both I seem to be on a much more even keel.  My doctor called me the most stable patient she has.  That makes me a wee bit concerned about the rest of her patients.  Stable is not a term I would necessarily use to describe myself.

I should be working on the Serenity game, I've got a cubic metric butt-ton to do before the next session;  Encounters to detail, an attack to plan and coordinate, an attack force to build, the good, bad and ugly NPC's to craft.  All that and at least one way out for the hapless PC's.   I make it sound like work.  Well, it is to a point, but it also a creative part of the hobby that I truly enjoy.  The more I can do now, the more I can help suspend disbelief for the players next Sunday.  The more they can suspend that disbelief, the better story we can tell.  When we collectively tell a good story we all win.

We're right in the middle of act II, leading right to the climax of the story.  The most the players can hope for is a draw.  I thought about calling it a "Wash," (reference).  Too soon?  I'll be hitting them with a moral dilemma.  They'll either be able to extract their revenge on their betrayer, or they'll be able to prevent the deaths of tens of thousands of civilians, Alliance citizens, and Federal employees.  Just not both.  Yep, those same people who have just squashed the Browncoat independence movement and are now trying to impose their will and control over the rest off  the 'Verse'.  Sometimes, I really dig my job...   

As always, it ain't much.  It's done, locked and loaded.  Thanks.

See you tomorrow.

Seasonal Blues or something more?

Rough night last night, not only did Elvis (the big, white dog) wake me up at 4 am, but also upon return to the land of nod I had a dream that affected me more than any dream I can remember.  In it, I was pursued by something, I can't remember what it may have been.  I finally caught it and killed it by crushing it's throat, just as it morphed into Big, white dog.  Needless to say this affected me deeply.  I think I understand the symbology of the images, it still saddened me to the point of tears though.  Even as I write this I can still feel that saddness and grief from this morning.

Sadness most of the day nearly every day-not so much.
Loss of energy-Check.
Feelings of hopelessness or worthlessness-No.
Loss of enjoyment from things that were once pleasurable-Check
Difficulty concentrating-Always; ADD issues.
Uncontrollable crying-Only briefly this morning.
Difficulty making decisions-Nope.
Irritability-Always, more so lately though.
Increased need for sleep-Double check.
Insomnia or inability to sleep-Check, always.
Unexplained aches and pains-They are not particularly unexplained.
Stomach ache and digestive problems-Hmmm, maybe.
Headache-Yes.
A change in appetite causing weight gain-Change of appetite, yes.  Weight gain, maybe a little
Thoughts of death or suicide-Obviously, by the dream.
Attempting suicide-No.

I guess it's time for me to admit to myself and to my doctor that I have some depression issues.  I'll be seeing her soon.

Thanks, as always for sticking around.

See you tomorrow.