( ... I think I'm still trying to figure this crap out ... )

( And for my friend, this short message. )

( Also, there will be no NaNoWriMo this year. )
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"You're too much like me Frank - you can't stand labels. Someone tries to put me in a box, I just naturally want out." ~ Abby St. James to Frank Leo from the TV series The Bridge

 

I'm trying to be strong and it's not easy.  This song is one of my favourites when I feel like this.

( Lyrics under cut )

A snippet of a tune stuck in there that I had no lyrics to reminded me that it's time to clean mine out again.  It's all clogged up with little bits of thoughts and shards of ideas that weren't as bright as I once imagined them to be and the random bits that manage to float to the surface are all getting to be a bit much.  I wish I had access to a lake or large body of water where I could just float on my back and watch the sky for hours, weightless on the tides.  I would be the flotsam and jetsam and stop being me with my insecurities and flaws.

The tradition remains unchanged.

This is our ungodly hour.

I envy those who cast their cares to the religion of their choice, trusting in gods I can no longer believe in that it will all work out alright.  It doesn't always work out alright and some times good people lose and it's not because 'God' willed it or had bigger plans for them.  It's simply the way the world works.  One roll of a dice, one person who turned away thinking another would step up and help and - that's it, life's over.

Time for coffee and then another day of smiling plastically at people, hoping they don't look in my eyes and see the truth.  I want someone to notice and yet, it's far more work than it's worth.

I've been thinking in this vein for a couple of weeks now and it disturbs me.  Yes, my thinking can be a little twisty but I tend to do things like obey the law.  Partly, this is because to keep my job I can't be convicted of a criminal offense but it's mostly a fear of failing.  Failure to follow the rules leaves me feeling guilty and I have guilt issues aplenty without piling fresh ones on top.

So, other than the odd turn through the growing up phase where I smoked pot, drank too much, sometimes drove while inebriated, and did other things I'm not very proud of, I'm just about as straight an arrow as they come.  I don't speed through residential areas or playground zones.  I don't text or answer my phone while driving.  I always try to just go along and get along.  But this new development makes me ramble and froth at the mouth so click the cut at your own peril.

( Which is why all this pisses me off so much.... )

I think I get why criminals are criminals now.  They are because they can be, because they've never had to or don't care about the people they hurt or the consequences of their actions.  By defending my untraditional family, I will be at risk of becoming a criminal, but you know what, it don't fucking pay to be an honest citizen so why the fuck not.

And be damned if the little bastard doesn't hate Mondays.

A short reminder to those who have just begun following along - Max is the name applied to my 1997 Nissan Maxima which it is earning on so many more levels than just the lazy one (Maxima = Max).  Max was also (and still is) one of my roleplaying characters, who among his charms, manages to be a troublemaker extraordinaire almost without trying.

The car has officially earned this name now.  As if shooting red hot chunks of steel at me and stealing my keys weren't enough (Story here), it is a truth of the world that if Max is going to have an issue, he will pull it on a Monday morning at 6:30 am as I'm trying to get to work.

( No Monday Maxima )

Or so think I.

( Max has a tantrum. )

I love this car but I never expected to have to treat it like a tantruming toddler.  Mind you, if this is all the trouble it gives me, I'm laughing.

So I get home, ready to go do battle with the ice pile and what do I see along the side of the road leading to the alley?





Edit:  At least the CB takes nice pictures....