Muh Christmas in words and images :)

Well, it really was a good Christmas this year,  at least for me. I had a lot of fun catching up with family and feasting upon some truly excellent food including my Grandmother’s legendary Baked Crab. My Uncle Ray brought us all wood caddies with six bottles of his home brewed beer as presents. Plus more for us to drink that night.I consider myself to have a fairly discriminating pallette and they were all quite well crafted with a great balance of flavors. I made sure to tell him as much. 

What else? I got a really killer present from my Mom. Here’s what I got:

It’s a really thorough sewing set in a sturdy wood box. And wait until you see the front :

Cool, ja? DAMN STRAIGHT. 

Shannon and I went to my Grandmother’s house and then my Aunt Lisa’s house for Christmas Eve festivities.  Without boring you about everything I got I’ll stick to highlights.  Let’s just say I’m very happy with how this Christmas went. My Grandmother gave me a really cool Irish cookbook,  which I’m excited about exploring. Also got some amazon cards and got ten albums I’ve been burning for.

   After that we came home and exchanged most of our gifts except two and our stockings  (and our dog and two Cat’s stockings). Illustrated here:


Shannon sheepishly handed me my first present and I soon figured out why.  He also got me a (the gayest possible )sewing kit. Check it out :

Pretty much the gayest thing on earth,  methinks.  But whatever Man, I’ve made peace with my feminine side or whatever you wish to call it.  Either way, double the sewing supplies.  Also, I helped a bartender I work with move and she gave me her sewing machine.  I have a mannequin too. I am all hooked up to do mad crazy battle jacket works. 

Speaking of,  I finished patching up the body of the jacket  (still need to put a few more patches on the arms ) and started spiking the dead space.  Here’s where that’s at:

I’m going to tighten up the spiking,  this is just the beginning.  But yeah,  that’s what I did at home on Christmas day,  that and lots of non Christmas music.  

On an unrelated tangent,  here’s one of Shannon’s stocking stuffers: an ornament with his little girl Marci on it:


I also did a Rib roast that my Mom was nice enough to gift us with.  It is absolutely superb. 

Plus, I got to use my kitchen sawzall illustrated here:

All in all,  it’s been a wonderful Christmas and I’m grateful that I got to share it with those I love.  I wasn’t able to do a whole lot of shopping this year but I tried to be as thoughtful as I could achieve. Both my Mom and Grandmother’s cards had long notes in cursive (took a second to work the bugs out as it had been nearly a decade) expressing gratitude and love.  My first attempt at doing one of those awesome cards that touch the soul. 

I sincerely hope you have enjoyed this wee portal into my Christmas adventure.  Now to enjoy a little shopping and tomorrow it’s work work work!

Happy Holidays –

Thom 

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Variable existence

Lately I have been fighting a potent combination of despair and fatigue.  I’ll have a good day or two and go right back to feeling gut punched and worthless.  I’m really not sure what to do about it.  I try to avoid bitching about it on the Internet but by the same token this blog is one of my very few mechanisms of catharsis.  When I get fatigued no amount of sleeping or coffee gets me right.

I already doubled my dose of Wellbutrin and don’t see the doctor until nearly two weeks from now.  Day to day I feel pretty much vile and lifeless.  Not all the time, mind you. There are periods of relative calm interspersed therein. I’m just thinking my ego might be too fragile to be a customer service person. I just can’t seem to let it go when people are nasty to me. I take a lot of pride in what I do and it just crushes me when people walk on me. There was a time long ago when I was a halfway decent actor so that works somewhat in my favor but all I’m doing is barely containing my seething resentment towards the general public.

I’m just feeling like I have no future lately. No marketable skills or education and a body and mind falling to pieces before my eyes. I try to put on a brave face for those around me in the interest of not being a selfish jerk but honestly I’m dying inside daily.

I miss theatre sometimes but I can’t go back. That part of my life is over. I miss my friends and I miss spending time outdoors.  Everyone is just too caught up in their grind and that’s just how it is.

Between depression and fatigue and anxiety I’m just slowly but surely losing my will to be.  I’m not suicidal or anything,  just adrift and hopeless feeling. I have a birthday coming up and I couldn’t give two shits. I’m terrified that the combination of quitting my prednisone and starting a DMARD is going to wipe out what’s left of my strength.

I’m sorry if this seems like a bitchfest. I just had to admit that I’m feeling like garbage lately. Here’s hoping for a better day.

Decay

It’s everywhere around us. We like to distract ourselves with insipid dumbfuckery like television or internet because it takes us out of our own heads for a bit. Make no mistake though, you are going to die. Me too. The circumstances of how are variable, but the ultimate truth remains. Nothing is permanent.

Some like to think we live on in the legacy we leave behind. But all that too shall cease to be. Some entertain the idea of reincarnation. This is actually a more logical view if one thinks of the laws of conservation of energy and mass. The universe is a holistic system of systems on astronomical and microscopic levels.

All speculation aside, I believe that life has a purpose. At least I badly want to. I think of these things often, frequently to the point of madness. As I get older and more weathered a single thought flashes through my head and it is ‘What do you have to show for all this time?’. It eats at my sanity like a steady but determined trickle of water slowly creating caverns of isolation.

I’m thirty-three. It’s much farther than I ever thought I would make it to. In those years I’ve had many an opportunity to make something worthwhile out of my life. All squandered. Now I work at a brain dead burrito joint with people half my age for a hair above minimum wage. The fact that I’m sane enough for the working world is a matter up for debate.

That aside, I thought I’d be doing at least somewhat better by now. I was on disability for bipolar disorder for nearly five years. I feel like I really regressed during that time. Now I’m supposedly ‘better’ given that social security cut me off. But I’m not better. My plastic face is just a bit more polished.

The thing that hurts the most is being told  I’m way too functional to need help. I’m not talking about money. I mean that I’ve been committed three times and every time my brain became a bit more fuzzy and scrambled. Staying out of institutions is not the end goal in itself. What I need help with are life and organization skills for one.

What else?

I need to see a doctor or therapist more than every three or four months for fifteen minutes. That’d be super.

Most of all I need a vacation. I can’t remember my last one after the last sixteen years of killing myself to ‘make it’.  I still don’t know what’s wrong with my arm but I went back to kitchen work because no one else will even consider hiring me and two months unemployed has damn near ruined me.

I’m just goddamned tired. At least one day I’ll finally be old and battered and useless enough that the state will let me have some peace. Yeah, right.