February 7th, 2004

nanowrimo 2010

(no subject)

I have read a number of truly depressing posts on my friends page lately. A woman complained of approaching a milestone birthday still single and basically unhappy. I could have written that post myself. A young man on the verge of a move to another city laments much the same. A young man, a brilliant writer in my opinion offers low opinions of himself. Everyone laments being too fat or too skinny. A young man with a picture that shows he is quite good-looking (assuming that his icon is really a picture of him) worries about his looks.I could have written any one of these posts that upset me.

nanowrimo 2010

Revision or revisitation?

Updates today: louderpoetry

I thought to delete the preceding entry but have decided instead to simply supersede it.

I've had a bad day today. I don't know precisely why but everything I've read has left me in a bad mood. I slept badly last night. I went back to sleep before 9:00 and slept until nearly 15:00. That will doubtless keep me up all night tonight. I did not dream. That's a little unusual for me as a daytime nap almost ensures an odd dream.

Weekends used to be a haven for me in many ways, a break from the routine of work. They have lost their significance of late save that they are two days of the week when I needn't phone anyone and can rely on freedom from phone calls from my insurance company, employer, or any doctors.

My moods have been blacker of late. I feel like circumstances are oppressing me once again. I always survive but have lately been to question the "hows" and "whys" of my continuing. That does not mean I am contemplating suicide, but it does mean that I wonder why I should work hard for a future that seems certain to be fairly bleak.

That all sounds worse than it is. It is fairly obvious that I am not going to be on disability save after a long and bitter fight. I can probably survive without it. I am fairly certain that I can get by on food stamps and the dole. I may be able to get on Medicaid or Medicare so that my medicines can continue. Maybe I can work, busing tables at McD's or working as a greeter at Wal-Mart. Anyone who knows me know the absurdity of that but I suspect it may be my ultimate fate. That's the how.

As to the why — I have to wonder why I've worked all these years paying into my pension, my disability insurance, social security, whatever. Now that I need these things they are manifestly unavailable. I've played by the rules all these years — those who know me will smile at that but I think they will acknowledge the truth of it — but now I find that the reward for doing so is nil. I'm finding that the things I've lived by aren't true. I have to wonder how my children will fare. All these years I've apparently been lying to them when I tell them "This is the way it is."