Another Hate Sunday

It comes every 7 days. This accursed day of slowness, of inaction, of watching football or some other ultimately meaningless thing.

I don't like Sundays. I feel very bad, depressed sort of. I don't know why. It could be the whole situation with the playstation 2.

I am having male pain. I leak when I pee because I can't feel if all of it is gone. When pee stops, is that it? In me, not always. So I get a wet spot in my underwear.

I am wearing CR7 Color Block Fashion briefs. You don't want to get a pee spot in those, do ya? I don't.

I get dehydrated because I avoid drink to not pee. I don't like to pee, it hurts. I have to do it or I could get very sick or more than likely, have an accident.

Normally, a guy isn't conscious of his male parts most of the time. It is just there. My parts hurt, I am always conscious of them.

Aside from that, I hear how dangerous sugary drinks are as I am drinking one. How could I do that? Why does everything I do seem bad or wrong?

I went to the store yesterday with messy hair. Look like a fucking slob with that. How could I do this?

I resist the urge to hang myself. How long can I keep doing this? Sunday will come again, for as long as there are weeks and days.

Hello Again

I have been offline since May of last year. In that time, I used my computer for its original purposes, music and writing stories. 

My writing has suffered as of late. This had many reasons, the primary reason being that I am hungry sometimes and cannot concentrate to write.

I hope to get new ideas now that I am online again.

I have been doing okay, I guess. My anxiety disorder whirls in a cycle to okay, to bad suicidal to okay again. 

I will go back to opining here soon. 

My Car

I said I would post a picture of it. This is my car, a 1997 Mazda Protege. It was originally a teal green color.

You can see that not paying attention to it has led to oxidation of its paint. My car was damaged in a blowout on thr driver's side front wheel. I could not photograph it from that side because someone put a bike and some crap by it.

My car suffered a belt breakage in 2003. This belt runs the alternator, power steering pump, and coolant. The car suffers badly if this belt is not on. Some idiot tried to fix it and damaged one of the belt's pulleys so that when the alternator is drawing load, like when the lights are on, it slips, making that squealing sound some cars make. It is the sound of a belt slipping.

You see one of the wheel covers is missing. It disappeared at an automated carwash in Cove in 2001.

My car has 105,000 +/- 100 miles on it. It runs fine, well did, otherwise. Now its brakes are rusted. Its battery is dead. It likely has denatured fuel left in the tank. Why is this?

I lost my job last year. I intended to fix it when the next bonus came. Only, it never did. I left before that.

I believed, honestly, believed, still do, that I would have killed myself if I had stayed at wm. The stress winds my anxiety tight, I feel like crying. That is VERY unusual for me. Though I am sensitive, it is my own pain that makes me feel that way.

I took this picture with my phone. It takes good pictures. If I edit photos, this one wasn't, I use Corel Paint Shop X, which came with my copy of WordPerfect X3.

I did not get paint shop with WP Office X5. I don't see the need. I don't use many of its utilities as it is. I am a writer, not a businessperson.

Don't worry about me. I will be all right. I am working on feeling better, going back to my massive music collection, writing more, playing Spore and mahjong. I might even pop into Sins of a Solar Empire, though it takes a long time to set up the gnarliest space battle. There is a YouTube link to post battles, though I have never used it. Spore has that too. My phone can take video. I will share more of what I see.

It is possible that I may have to sell my car. I would only do so in the effort to get a newer one. I do not want a new car. I want one with 30k miles on it, like this car had when I got it back in '98.

Maybe one day, when I get a new car, I might go out more. Doesn't seem likely but stranger things have happened.

I might even get enough nerve to go look for a new girlfriend. Yea, and we'll have snow in August too. Right.

Just Awful

Yesterday, I guess I did something wrong and took out a pallet of beer and damaged a steel shelf it rested upon. I refuse to admit that I am the sole cause of this and there will be NO MORE said about this incident.

That said, I feel slightly better than the suicidal crush that accompanies the down part of my depressive cycle. I thank my doctor, and the Celexa-clone. It came just in the nick of time and calmed me down.

Three more days in that God-awful area of the cesspit.

I'm okay. Like my dear one said, 'it's okay'.

Yes, Jen, it is.

See ya'll later.

Sad Ghost

The ER doc said take a few days off. His paper says so. However, wm won't accept it just because it isn't a wm form. This is the straw, so to speak. The decision has been made. I am leaving that putrid cesspit. I do not wish to leave wm. That is all about that. No rancor in this blog.

I am sad because of that. Because my left testicle is swollen and hurts. I cannot sit for any amount of time because of it and gosh, try wearing jeans. The shocking yellow-orange pee is disturbing. I thought it would be cool but not anymore.

My suidical thoughts are coming back because of this and because of that thing mentioned in the fore of this post. I cannot do my usual to relieve them. I hurt too bad.

Nobody cares. Sure, no one wants to hear that. However, it is true.

I wish my friend Matt was right. How easy it is to leave. But it is not. I face the dark prospect of not seeing my girlfriend a lot. That may be for the better. She and I have a frosty relationship that really never changes. Maybe she will thaw a little if she didn't see me only at work.

Iwant to go crawl into a shell and not come out. That is my anxiety talking. It is powerful and governs what and how I do things. Odd that it remained complacent when I stood half naked while the doctor did an exam. I guess pain overrides that.

I came up with Arthelius the Ghost because I saw that as a fitting end for my rp character, but also, I kinda want to be him. Consigned to an ever annoying chore, watching over the peoples, offering dry advice and odd humor.

The reality of my life would stain this blog. I won't speak of it here.

I feel sad, yet again. Maybe the Celexa-clone will wash it away.

I hope so.