The good news is I'm not going to Massachusetts. The bad news is I'm not going to be home in time for the appointment with the shrink. The good news is I was able to get a new appointment next Tuesday. The bad news is my boss was majorly pissed that I didn't turn down the load to Massachusetts. The good news is I followed company procedure and advised the weekend dispatcher that I needed to be home before the 17th and all he did was send a message that said "Noted." The bad news is I'm going to have to drive at night and sleep during the day from here to Clearfield, UT.

Oh, and the other good news is that, yesterday, I wrote my Winter Anthology story; about 4,500 words or so in one day. Yeah, it's that kind of story; lot's of personal input, but nothing close to memoir, not even close. Basically, it's about a fourteen boy who is extremely naive about most things sexual and whose extended family thinks he's queer.

Although I've started on Chapter 18 of The Artists, I haven't gotten very far. I need to move forward, but I'm afraid of the emotions that are going to come out when I start pulling up some personal experiences to flavor one of the characters.

The depression is much worse. I'm depressed most of the time, now. I don't think I'm close to trying to do anything drastic, but I now know that is an option. A stupid option, but still an option. I've made my peace with the Universe and my molecules are free to return home when they desire.

I wish I could cry because maybe it would give me the catharsis I need, but I can't. The closest I can get to crying is getting teary eyed and that is not enough to pull up the emotions I need to tear this monster out of my Bhead.

What scares me is that I might have to stop driving. Not because of the depression, but because of the increase in medication that might tip me over the edge of awareness into a constant state of drowsiness. I can't be driving down the road with 45,000 pounds of frozen food in my trailer and nodding off. But, I won't know anything until I talk to the shrink.

The only thing I can do, of course, is to keep writing, even if it is mostly writing these boring entries. I have to work on The Artists because I think I may be nearing a possible end to the story. Plus, I have the new book to work on. It's turning into a fun story and right now I need fun. And, there are the anthology stories to keep me distracted from everything else.

I apologize for dumping here, but I've got to get it out and put it somewhere so it'll stop bugging me and here is the only place I'm putting things these days.