All right. That was a decent start to my story, wasn’t it? Chernobyll is a good setting and the man is an interesting character. The alien, she’s not so well “fleshed” out, haha: ghostly, moving into the man’s body and directing him around when he’s not capable of it. She’s like a Catholic wife. Or a Muslim wife, if the caricature I saw on Saturday Night Live has any validity.

I always assume that men do not have the emotional need for a female, the way women feel a need for a man. Actually, part of a woman’s need for a man is just needing the stronger being, socially and financially. Men glom together. Sometimes I get the impression that they’d all prefer to be gay to straight, but don’t go there because it would upset some sort of balance among their buddies - that they are all afraid it would freak out their buddies, and that their buddies would then stop being friends with them, so they don’t make the gay overtures and instead find nice, docile, nice-to-look-at women to keep house and fuck.

They are returning: the Sleepless Ones. Lumbering towards me, large, furry, with eyes closed. Getting Closer. What will they do once they find me?

Prolly not a whole lot: shake me and lift me from the ground – because they're so much bigger than I. I can never figure out whether they are friends or enemies. I think they're just lonely and see me as a soft mark. Well, ok. I kinda like the big furry beasts. I don't care if no one else does, and now, I've managed to set up my life so I can entertain them.

Back in the day, I preferred waitressing to working in offices because I could not stand the tedium of office tasks. I had morals of some kind too, because when I was contracted to write a manual for the military, I turned it down. Not only did I turn it down, I said I would do it, then just didn’t show up for the job.

Part of the reason I flaked was because there was a girl working there that I had gone to school with. I was embarrassed that I hadn’t done anything super wow already with my life (I was about 24).

I was quite vocally opposed to war and violence; in contrast to the small town acceptance of such things that we both grew up with. By taking the job, everyone I grew up with would know that I had failed; that I was forced to accept war/violence as a way of life. I was stubborn and block-headed, then; viewed most things in black and white rather than shades of grey.

I need work that requires less patience. My heart races; my blood pressure goes up as I wait for module blocks to accept the changes I’ve made and pages to load.

This work is like depression by a thousand cuts: many easy, tiny but dull tasks.

What can I do that is challenging, big and invigorating? It has to be the right amount of challenge, but not discouraging.

Image from: http://capcultseminar.blogspot.com

I’m just here doing my taxes, wondering why. I don’t support my governments. I see them rewarding their friends and cutting social programs; making people like me pay for the big contracts they dole out to their friends – like my work isn’t worth the amounts they pay to their buddies! It’s easy to pay someone lots of money when the money isn’t yours; when you are just the custodian of the money of a huge group of people whom you feel no special allegiance or concern for. Damn, it’s pretty much unavoidable.

Why do I pay my taxes? Why can’t I just allot the amount I’d pay to social services, road repair (in my area) and more buses? Why can I not allot my money for workers’ wages not the raises of MLA’s?

I don’t make enough for Revenue Canada to come after me. For real. They’re not going to waste their time for the money they'd get out of me. I know where I sit on the wage/income scale and it’s not at a significant place. Why do I bother?

Hello depression! How nice of you to drop by again! It’s been a few days since we’ve talked, hasn’t it?

What’s that? You missed me?! Heh. Awwww. Poor you. Why did you miss me? Surely you must have other friends you can visit?

What’s that? There’s no one exactly like me? No one with the same set of neuroses and fears as me? No one whom you enjoy hanging out with just so much?

I’ve got to tell you, depression, I mean, I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I don’t enjoy you the way you seem to enjoy me. I actually feel better when you are not around.

There, there, depression, don’t cry! Awwwww, I’m sorry. <Hugs depression> Come on, now. <More hugs>

<More hugs>

<More hugs>

<More hugs>

Ok, then, depression, what do you want to do? What’s that? You want me to talk about you?

The girl crossed the road. The girl crossed the ocean. She crossed the world. The girl crossed the cosmos. The girl crossed the living room.

The girl stopped being afraid and grabbed her father by the balls and squeezed til he howled in pain but he couldn’t slap her because she was fast! Fast, like lightning.

She crossed the road and disappeared into the forest. She zipped across the road and disappeared, like a ghost, into the woods that belonged to Mr. McDermitt.

Her dog was with her – the dog was not a ghost – and she knew she could never be alone if god was with her and god was. God gave her the strength to crush her father’s balls. God would have suggested eating them but she had to leave too quickly to cut them off. Instead, the dog had rats and she had take out from an old garbage can behind the mall. There was a mall on the other side of the woods.

La Rage - Keny Arkana - French Rap (English subtitles)

Writin. Can a lady write when she’s not unhappy? Scratch that.

Can a lady write when she’s not driven? Can a lady write when she’s just looking for meaning? Do you want to read the words of a lady just looking for meaning?

Why does writing make me happy? (And why is that such a hard statement to type?)

Happiness, happiness, happiness. Happiness. This is me daring the gods to strike me down with depression.

Damn – interruption by the bf. Lost my flow.

This is me blocking out all the emotional, mental, spiritual debris of a day, a week, a life. This is me just joining the flow of life. I think.

All right, I guess I’m forced to pick up where I left off last time: the morality of humans and/or other animals. And my view that humans are just another species and that if we could communicate with monkeys, for example, the way we communicate with each other, we’d find that they view the world in similar ways to us.

For the record, if anyone can convince me that humans are special; that we have a morality and right to run (destroy?) the world the way we do; that we have a right to enslave, abuse, kill, enjoy and pillage other species, plants, earth and rocks, and even other people, the way we do, I would love to be convinced. Frankly, my viewpoint is so simple and without prestige. Who doesn’t want to be king/queen/conqueror and ruler?! Hook a sister up with some power!

But I prefer real power to a chimera.