Jump to content

CarlHoliday

Classic Author
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    1,821

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by CarlHoliday

  2. CarlHoliday
    A week ago I sent in my resume to the company I retired from back in '04, at the height of my insanity. They're looking for residential credit consultants and I figured I could get hired since I've done that job. It's not a fun job. It's not a job that has a lot of good feelings about it. The last time I did it, I quit after five months because it was such a crappy job, but there were "political" reasons, too.
     
    Basically, you call, or receive calls from, customers who haven't paid their phone bills. You do whatever you have to do to either get the money or protect company assets by cutting off their service. With the coming recession, there should be a lot of cutting off. Frankly, I'd rather not do this job, but money is starting to get tight so I need figure out something.
     
    This morning I went to the occupational clinic at the Port of Tacoma and spent $60 for a DOT physical. I wasn't expecting much because of everything I've been reading on the internet about valproic acid being a questionable drug as far as federal regulators are concerned. After a thorough examination, the doctor gave me a letter for my psychiatrist to sign stating I'm okie-dokie to drive. If he signs, I'm calling my first trucking company to see if they're interested in taking me back. Having seen that the grass is not always greener, I look forward to driving cross-country again.
     
    My new story (novel) will be titled "The Artists." While there will be other characters with major parts, the story will primarily focus on one character. That won't be obvious though, which some readers may find difficult. What I'm looking forward to is the story should be rather mild compared to my rather violent stories. I'm not foreseeing any violence at all, but one never knows. Also, there might not be a lot of sex, either. I'm going to try very hard to make this story as fun as possible.
     
  3. CarlHoliday

    It's a sunny day!

    By CarlHoliday,

    The weather forecast is for mostly sunny skies with temperatures climbing up into the lower to mid 70s. A good day to mow the lawn. It needs it because it's been 3 weeks since the first time this spring. I was also seriously considering doing some major pruning on a few camelias that have pretty much finished blooming.
     
    There's nothing like a day out in the sun working in the yard, using the power mower (Is it only me or do you too see the conundrum in those two similarly spelled, but dissimilarly pronounced, words? A fine example of why English is such a screwed up language.), using the blower to cleanup, and doing all sorts of bending, stooping, stretching, lifting, and other kinds of physical activity.
     
    Unfortunately, that is not going to happen.
     
    Last night the next door neighbor decided to have a little fun so he went to a friend's house to do it. The neighbor is an alcoholic who's had other substance abuse issues, too, plus taking some serious antidepressants. He's an okay guy, but he's always been a little immature in his thinking and actions. To have fun at his friend's (and you have to realize I use that term loosely) house, our neighbor decided it would be a lot better if alcohol was involved.
     
    According to the police chaplain (you probably know where this is going), our neighbor fell asleep, then vomited. He was too wasted to do anything other than aspirate the fluid. His friend called 911, but they were unable to revive him.
     
    There is a lot of crying next door. Family and friends are coming in to help the grieving. Sadness fills the air.
     
    I do not grieve, though. I am saddened he unexpectedly left his family, but a forty-six-year-old drunk who does something stupid that results in his death deserves little respect. I will mow the lawn another day, though. Those who grieve do deserve that.
     
  4. CarlHoliday
    Yesterday morning as I was preparing my breakfast the full realization of my change in status finally hit me.
     
    I am mentally ill. :wacko:
     
    We talk about them. We see advertisements on television about how we should care about them, stop discriminating against them, and come to embrace their unique needs.
     
    I am them.
     
    When I used to work in downtown Seattle
  5. CarlHoliday

    This is okay?

    By CarlHoliday,

    I was congratulating myself this morning while I prepared breakfast. I have been feeling rather good lately. Slight depression now and then, very slight indeed. Plus, I'm not overly happy. Just kind of okie-dokie all the time.
     
    Well, most of the time.
     
    This is afternoon I slipped back a bit. I went out to move the van inside the fence and realized I could just drive away. I could go to the bank and take out a couple thousand and simply disappear like I wanted to do four years ago when I was very, very crazy. I'm not supposed to think thoughts like that.
     
    So, I quickly inserted a thought that my medicine was inside the house and I couldn't get away without it. Well, I could because if you're going to do something really crazy, what's the point of taking your medicine especially if that medicine is doing all it can to prevent you from doing crazy shit.
     
    Well, needless to say, that did the trick and I'm still among the boring.
     
    I'm not proud that I convinced myself to stay, though. I'm still mad at myself for thinking I could get away with it. I'm not depressed enough to do this which means it isn't the depression which is making me want to run away. It's the other end of the pole that's doing this shit.
     
    The good thing is I'm going to the shrink on Monday for a medication follow-up, so maybe we can talk about this, too. It could be that having running away thoughts again might be indicative of something more serious. Maybe this mood stabilizer is freeing up a few previously distracted neurons and they're devising a plan for me to take unauthorized leave of my faculties.
     
  6. CarlHoliday
    I've been toying with the idea of putting my first novel on GA for a number of months, but I didn't want to do it at the same time as "Chartreuse" like I did with "Pastel" and "Tim". It's just too damn confusing having two stories coming off the press at the same time.
     
    What I couldn't figure out was when to put it up, ie, before "Chartreuse" or after. As I got closer and closer to the time for "Chartreuse" to go up, the greater the difficulty I was having with getting it to go. First it was dropping off the deep end and having significant problems dealing with day to day activities. Then it was the constant picayune problems with the various "Chartreuse" characters.
     
    Then yesterday I was wandering around the forums and found this thread. Well, I primarily write because you have to have some kind of hobby and writing is mine, but sometimes a story comes along that you think might be marketable. The first question to getting any story published is, "Does a market exist for my story?" Unfortunately, most of my stories satisfy a niche so small having them published anywhere except GA is impractical.
     
    However, the way "Chartreuse" is shaping up, it might be of interest to enough people to put it through the process of trying to get it into print. I won't know for certain until I get further into the story. After three chapters I'm still on the first day, for god's sake. If it turns out that "Chartreuse" is a story that can be moved into the marketing process, putting it up on GA would be a big no-no.
     
    I've already started modifying the manuscript for Novel #1, "Red Bridge," and making a few minor corrections to the text. My goal is to have it ready to go by next weekend.
     
    "Red Bridge" is about Buddy Wallace whose wife of 33 years is dying of cancer. With only months to live they embark on a final journey so she can say goodbye to family and friends. In the process of the journey, Buddy is pulled into the suppressed memory of his relationship with his former best friend.
     
  7. CarlHoliday
    Our house is an enigma. It was built in the late 60s by a US Army top sergeant to be his retirement home. Well, by the time full retirement came around, he was living somewhere else and our house was fulfilling its purpose as a rental. We'll have been here ten years this August. Ten years of interesting surprises and angry outbursts of extreme aggravation.
     
    Unfortunately, we've contributed to the house's inability to perform at its best. A number of years ago we decided we needed gas heat to reduce the horrendous outlay of dollars to our local electric company. It didn't take the gas heating salesperson (He was a guy, but PC regulations prevent me from formally disclosing that fact. He was also borderline obese, spoke with too much spit in his mouth, was severely affected with premature hair loss, but had a great personality that went a long way toward helping us decide on what kind of gas heat was appropriate for our house.) to determine that we couldn't retrofit a gas furnace, didn't have an empty wall for a gas fireplace, having furry pets precluded the use of a floor furnace, and the only solution possible was a direct-vent, wall mounted, gas heater. Luck would have it, they had one in stock.
     
    The gas heater performed admirably since then. It had its quirks. The loud boom as it cooled was simply hot steel contracting or so I said to an unbelieving wife. The gas odor at the vent was negligible and the wind had to be from the right direction to smell it.
     
    That is until this winter. The blow torch sound was all I needed to hear to know it was time to call a repairman to have a look. Unfortunately, I was dealing with recovery from the major depression episode so the call didn't go out. The wife wouldn't call. She's been playing this game of, "you're home now, I'm not going to do anything that you can do." It took me a month to get up the energy to call.
     
    The first repairman had never seen our model of gas heater. He left baffled at what could be causing the problem. He also turned off our gas water heater, but when your incompetence is so blatant, anything is possible.
     
    The second repairman knew our unit, but was baffled with the problem. That is until he took out the burner. Gas burners have few requirements for a successful existence. Cracks and broken vent holes are not on any list of required assets. A new burner was ordered.
     
    "Do you want it UPS Ground, or do you want it expedited?"
     
    "Ground is okay."
     
    Two weeks later the third repairman shows up to install the new burner. Unfortunately, he couldn't get the pilot light to stay on after lighting it.
     
    Today, the fourth repairman showed up unannounced, but got the gas heater to work. There were a number of adjustments that no one else seemed aware of, but he seemed to think the pilot light module needed to be replaced because the pilot light flame was too small, so we ordered one. Of far more importance though was the heater was usable until someone came back to install it.
     
    As he was leaving the wife said, "I smell gas."
     
    The fitting on the pilot light wasn't fully tight. The repairman said that should solve the problem, but if we continued to smell gas, we should turn the unit off at the floor valve.
     
    We've reactivated the electric heaters. The gas heater isn't and won't be until the gasman cometh, again.
     
  8. CarlHoliday

    Angry

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm back to 276. For a few days I pushed it up to 279, but this morning I was back to 276. Difference? Haven't partaken of the Mexican food for two days and the day before yesterday I had Albondigas, which is a really, really good soup.
     
    The mood stabilizer seems to have kicked in. I'm kind of blah most of the time, but there seems to be an edge of anger that hangs over me like that famous sword. I feel like exploding at the slightest provocation, like this morning when the wife commented that Bonita doesn't get wet food at night anymore. It was an innocent comment, but it irritated like hell. We took Bonita off the nighttime full meal because she was getting too heavy. I mean who wants a porky Chihuahua. It certainly isn't good for the dog, but the wife seems to think she needs to fatten up the dog to make her happy.
     
    So, I blew up and told the wife to put Bonita back on the wet food at night and she goes all, "well, aren't you in a good mood this morning." Well, I was trying very hard to have a good morning. I worked on the new story. I read a good portion of "The Gathering." I had some good thoughts, too. I had to work very hard on those, but I managed to get a few in. It's important to think good thoughts when you're plagued with dark clouds.
     
    But, I blew up and ended up feeling bad. The anger worries me. If I can't control it, I may have to think about alternate futures, not that I have much of a future left. At the most, I figure I have about 25 years left. 25 + 58 = 83. My mother was 83 when she died. My dad was 52 when heart failure complicated with stage 4 prostate cancer did him in. My mother's father was 89. My father's father was 59. Cancer lurks on my father's side. Vascular disease seems to plague my mother's side, though she died from breast cancer brought about by a alcohol impaired immune system.
     
    Well, gotta go.
     
  9. CarlHoliday

    Awake

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's 2:30 a.m. and I'm awake.
     
    I suppose I should be asleep, but I'm not.
     
    Insomnia is one of the many side effects of the mood stabilizer I'm taking. It also causes drowsiness. So you end up being sleepy when you're suppose to be awake and doggedly awake when you're suppose to be asleep.
     
    So, I worked on the new book. I'm probably on the last section of the second chapter. I can't see adding much more to this chapter once I finish with Euphorbia and Casey.
     
    The third chapter will cover the picnic and the fourth chapter will be later that night.
     
    I finished with Tim and, as expected, the final reviews are non-existent.
     
    Not much else is going on as I can't go back to work until I see the shrink on April 7. I did find out bipolar isn't a disqualifier on a CDL physical, but mood stabilizers are if you're having trouble with drowsiness and sleeplessness. Yesterday, I wasn't drowsy at all, so a bit of sleeplessness should be expected. We also went to the Mexican restaurant, and while I didn't drink too much, I did drink and shouldn't have. Basically, I have to stop drinking if I'm going to take mood stabilizers. Alcohol messes up the chemical reactions in the medicine.
     
    I've been drinking for forty years. I smoked cigarettes for thirty years and quit, so I do know about the agony of quitting. Since I don't drink when driving trucks, it shouldn't be too difficult, but I may have to stop going to the Mexican restaurant for awhile. After all, what's more important?
     
    Well, I've been up for over two hours and I think I've worn myself down enough to get a few more hours of dreamtime. Have to get up before six-thirty so I can take my mood stabilizer at seven-thirty.
     
  12. CarlHoliday

    Looking for fun

    By CarlHoliday,

    First off, I am not depressed anymore. As of Monday morning, when I woke up not depressed, I have not slid back into a down cycle. I'm not particularly happy, though. I was happy earlier in the week, but I could be happy if I wasn't so drowsy.
     
    I am sleepy or drowsy most of the time. I sleep for hours, get up, eat, go back to bed and sleep for a few hours more. My counselor and GP think it might be the citalopram causing this extreme drowsiness. The GP cut my prescription back to the standard dosage of 40mg.
     
    I went to the counselor on Tuesday and we talked about being happy and the cyclical nature of my brand of depression. We talked about when I was on buproprion and how I cycled between extreme giddiness and perpetual dark clouds. She gave me a little test. Out of eighteen or so questions I got only four right. She's referring me to a psychiatrist to see if I qualify for a mood stabilizer. She tacked "Bipolar Disorder, Nonspecific" on my medical record.
     
    I just want to get out of the cycles, but carrying "Bipolar" around on my permanent medical record might cause all sorts of problems, especially since "Bipolar" is a disqualifying disorder as far as driving the big trucks goes. Not that I want to do that anymore, but I might want to get some other kind of driving position and that might not be possible if the psychiatrist ends up specifying I'm "Bipolar" or something else like hypomania, which sounds like fun, too.
     
    The counselor gave me an assignment for next time. I have to write either a letter to Mom or Dad telling them what a bang up job they did with raising me and how much I appreciate their belittling, derision, ridicule, and all the other fun things they thought would turn me into a successful human being; or, I have to write a short story about a little boy (not me) who is raised by parents like mine. I'm not quite brave enough for the possible cathartic experience of writing a letter to either parent so I'm going with the short story. It should be fun.
     
    The only big problem with being awake is getting the mind to shut down. It seems to be having one heck of a time working on Chartreuse and the new story (tentatively titled "The Cutest Ogre"), plus writing blog entries like this. Chartreuse is still going slow, but it is going. Ogre is barely started, but I have to have it done by the 25th, so it will probably take up a lot of my time.
     
  14. CarlHoliday

    In Therapy

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, this is the deal:
     
    I'm working on why my mother's death threw me into a major depressive episode that came within a hair's breadth of resulting in an exit attempt. I think the only reason I don't try harder is that some part of me thinks everything will work out for the better. Also, I don't like pain and while being run over by a truck is certain to cause death, it might not be immediate. Hypothermia is still my means of choice, but I didn't do that either. Why I don't know.
     
    We're starting at the beginning. You know, back when yours truly was being abused physically, verbally, and emotionally.
     
    Today we worked on my childhood when I was frequently spanked with vacuum cleaner cords (witnessed by a friend who would never come to my house again), shoes, hands, wooden spoons, spatulas, and the piece of kindling in the cupboard above the refrigerator. The piece of kindling became a kind of perpetual threat. "Behave or you know what's going to be on your butt!"
     
    We only touched upon the verbal and emotional abuse. A lot of that occurred in my adolescence. Okay, I was big and tall so physical abuse wasn't a viable option. They didn't need to hit me physically when words worked just as easily, if not better.
     
    So, I'm keeping a journal of where I'm going with this.
     
    Also, I'm considering going to AA. I'm probably an alcoholic. Both of my parents were. I don't drink that much all the time, but I tend to drink every day. A little bit every day is good, but too much two or three days a week is too much. I'll definitely discuss this with my therapist before making the big step because once undertaken, there's no going back.
     
    Well, that's what's going on so far.
     
    I have not worked on the Kevin project, yet, but I should be starting in a day or two. I've been waking up every morning between 4 and 5 o'clock and staying awake until 8 or 9. If I can get focused on Kevin, I should be able to expend enough creative energy to generate a few chapters so it'll be ready to launch when Tim completes next month.
     
  15. CarlHoliday

    Big Time Blahs

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm not working on the Kevin project.
     
    I've written a couple blog entries, but nothing else.
     
    It's been a week since my prescription was upped to 40mg and I'm finally coming out of the fog. I've been asleep for most of the time, but I sleep fitfully.
     
    The Pastel Cowboy is coming to a close. One more chapter, but the Kevin project is not ready to launch.
     
    Tim and the Corsair has five more chapters, but I don't think the Kevin project will be ready to launch at that time, either.
     
    I've decided I'm not going to try to find a new job until after the wife, Bonita, and I take a road trip at the end of February. A long trip would include the Decanso Gardens in La Canada Flintridge, the Sonoran Desert Museum in Tucson, the Permian Petroleum Museum in Midland, and possibly a blogger I know near Decatur, AL. A short trip would take in the sights around LA. Whatever we do or wherever we go we have to plan around doing things where Bonita isn't excluded simply because she's a dog, which means a lot of outdoorsy stuff.
     
    Right now, I need to be working on the Kevin project, but that doesn't look doable tonight.
     
  16. CarlHoliday

    Need to laugh

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, so I'm grasping a straws, willing to do anything to pull the slightest tee-hee out of the air, even if it means stealing a cartoon from another blogger, even if it means resorting to a dog joke.
     
    I have not worked on the Kevin project.
     
    I can barely get anything done.
     
    I have to force myself to do the simplest things.
     
    I am getting better, though.
     
    I'm not plagued with fits of unstoppable yawning. I'm not feeling drugged into submission.
     
    I am tired, though.
     
    So, I look for something funny; and, the Kevin project is not funny so I don't work on it. I think it might not make the cut, but I don't want to throw it away completely.
     
  17. CarlHoliday

    Still depressed

    By CarlHoliday,

    So, this is the deal, "I'm still depressed."
     
    Also, "I'm not driving."
     
    If we need to go anywhere, the wife does the driving. Quite frankly, I'm scared to death I might veer off and do something stupid.
     
    I'm going to a therapist Monday morning. Hopefully, we'll be able to determine whether I should stay away from the big trucks for awhile.
     
    I'm also very tired and I'm having trouble writing on the Kevin project, which I need to be working on because The Pastel Cowboy is almost finished and I need to have the Kevin project ready to go before Tim and the Corsair are complete. My only other option is to put up my first novel, Red Bridge, which is about as nutty as the other two stories, not to say the Kevin project isn't as nutty.
     
    Another option might be to do a series on Glandar, the handy little artificial planet I came up with for the anthologies. Acam and Neri might work out as a nice set of adventurers seeking their fortune on a planet where there is no future.
     
    I want to make the Kevin project work as a story, but the depression is intruding and I'm not doing well right now. I think the hardest part right now is not knowing how things are going to turn out in the near term. Quite frankly, I think I'm nutso and might need to go somewhere for a long rest. You see, I'm very tired of being depressed. That's one of the things I'm going to talk to the therapist about.
     
    Another bit of news: I just finished reading The Known World by Edward P. Jones, which won the 2004 Pultizer Prize. This was not an easy read. Jones' writing style is not easy to read. It was an interesting story, though, but not one I'd recommend to the faint of heart. It certainly didn't help my depression by reading it.
     
    Just to prove I'm not all doom and gloom, the following are provided for your entertainment. (These were sent to me by a blogger who seeks humor).
     
    The Druggist Has a Bad Day
    Upon arriving home in eager anticipation of a leisurely evening, the husband was met at the door by his sobbing wife. Tearfully she explained, "It's the druggist - he insulted me terribly this morning on the phone."
     
    Immediately the husband drove downtown to accost the druggist and demand an apology. Before he could say more than a word or two, the druggist told him, "Now, just a minute - listen to my side of it. This morning the alarm failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried out to the car, but I'll be damned if I didn't lock the house with both house and car keys inside. I had to break a window to get my keys.
     
    Driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket. Then, about three blocks from the store I had a flat tire. When I finally got to the store there was a bunch of people waiting for me to open up. I got the store opened and started waiting on these people, and all the time the darn phone was ringing its head off. Then I had to break a roll of nickels against the cash register drawer to make change, and they spilled all over the floor.
     
    I got down on my hands and knees to pick up the nickels - the phone is still ringing - when I came up I cracked my head on the open cash drawer, which made me stagger back against a showcase with a bunch of perfume bottles on it, and half of them hit the floor and broke. The phone is still ringing with no let up, and I finally got back to answer it.
     
    It was your wife - she wanted to know how to use a rectal thermometer.
     
    And Mister, I TOLD HER!"
     
     
    The Stuttering Cat
    A teacher is explaining biology to her 4th grade students.
    "Human beings are the only animals that stutter," she says.
    A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat who stuttered,"
    she volunteered.
    The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories
    could become, asked the girl to describe the incident.
    "Well," she began, "I was in the back yard with my kitty and
    the Rottweiler that lives next door got a running start and before
    we knew it, he jumped over the fence into our yard!"
    "That must've been scary," said the teacher.
    "It sure was," said the little girl. "My kitty raised her back, went
    'Fffff, Fffff, Fffff, and before she could say 'f**K,' the Rottweiler
    ate her!"
     
  18. CarlHoliday

    Down

    By CarlHoliday,

    I hate being between antidepressants. It's so depressing.
     
    I have no energy. I have little interest.
     
    Yet, I did work on my first 2008 anthology story. It's almost done. I wanted to get it out of the way. I think most of it was done when the Wellbutrin was still active. It's gone, now, and I've been on Celexa for two days, but not long enough to make a difference.
     
    The Kevin project has turned in a practical rewrite. I wrote a prologue that redefines the character and I think makes him better. Yet, I can't get the energy to go further.
     
    I think I need to stay away for a little while.
     
    Maybe I'll feel better in a week or so.
     
    What's really hard is nothing is funny.
     
    The biggest problem is
  19. CarlHoliday

    Back to Celexa

    By CarlHoliday,

    I called my doctor today and we had a telephone consultation because he's the best doctor in the clinic and you have to be practically bleeding from several wounds to get a same day appointment with him. I figure we could do all the necessary shit over the phone. It helps, too, that, while he is probably only a few years older than me, he's not all that cute, but he isn't uncute either, but he's not my kind of guy, sort of.
     
    Okay, I don't have the hots for my doctor, but I could, maybe.
     
    He put me back in therapy, which is good.
     
    I'm off the Wellbutrin and back on Celexa, which worked pretty good a couple years ago.
     
    I quit Celexa because I'd heard Wellbutrin doesn't mess up the sexual function of the human body. I can say that Wellbutrin is good stuff.
     
    Initially, I started out on Prozac. Nasty stuff! Turned off the libido. Shut it DOWN! Not only I couldn't, but I didn't have any interest in doing it in the first place. I look at a cute guy and NOTHING! NOTHING! No feelings, no tingling, no nasty thoughts, NOTHING! I might as well have been a eunuch. Talk about chemical castration, Prozac certainly shut me down. No wonder they give that shit to teenagers.
     
    Celexa turned on the libido. I could look at guys again and get all those great nasty thoughts. The only problem with Celexa was the connection between the brain and the physical action. It was barely functional, at best. Not only couldn't I get it up, it didn't want to get up to begin with. My mind was going, "This is going to be fun. You're going to enjoy this," but it wasn't listening to anything my mind was saying. The signals weren't getting through.
     
    So, I'm back on Celexa. It really doesn't matter since I don't have anyone to share a sexual moment with anyway. So, why worry about nonfunctional genitals. If you don't need them, why worry about them not working.
     
    Sanity won out. Now, I have a chance to live. I don't drive right now. The wife is doing all the driving. I don't trust myself not to run off the road and hit that power pole over there.
     
    You see, I think if I did do something it would be one of those spur of the moment actions. One of those recognizing the opportunity when it came along and taking the dive.
     
    Only, I'm not ready to go. There's this big part of me that doesn't want to go out the next available exit. So, I'm staying off the road right now and looking forward to months of looking at cute guys and getting all those wonderfully nasty thoughts and knowing if the opportunity came along, I won't be able to do anything about it, not that I'm expecting anything of the sort.
     
  20. CarlHoliday

    The lost blog

    By CarlHoliday,

    Yesterday morning before leaving Corning, CA, I wrote a blog entry, but when I checked last night it wasn't here.
     
    So, either I didn't hit the right button and zoned out or the entry went to that place commonly referred to by techies as, "it's not supposed to do that." When you don't know blame the machine.
     
    Frankly, I think, due to my current state of unmind, that I destroyed the entry on my own. Things are not as they should be. I'm beginning to lose track of time. And, my decision making capabilities seem to be on the fritz.
     
    No, I didn't call to make an appointment, but when I get home tonight I'm going to call someone about what I should do. I'd rather be close to home when I ask for help. I don't know why I feel that way, but I do.
     
    All I do know is that maybe it's time for another happy pill because although I'm very good about taking the Wellbutrin, I don't think it's working all that well. Or, maybe it is and if I wasn't taking it I wouldn't be writing this right now. (Come to your own conclusion on that statement; believe me, I have.) Maybe I need a little additional help, but I won't know that until I call and talk to someone.
     
    I'd like to go to sleep right now, but I have to write. I'm working on a prologue to the Kevin project. It didn't go so well yesterday, but I went back today and fixed the errors and we're back on track.
     
    Things are so screwed up right now because I'm quickly losing the ability to function normally. I definitely need to call someone.
  21. CarlHoliday

    Too much black

    By CarlHoliday,

    I didn't get a shower last night or this morning in Corning because I planned to get one tonight or tomorrow morning at the truck stop in Wheeler Ridge.
     
    Nice plan, except they're having a power outage here.
     
    And, the wind is still blowing. The big truck is rocking and rolling and I'm not even listening to iTunes. Luckily, I hope, it takes about a 70 mph gust to knock over a loaded big truck.
     
    So, it's really dark here and I'm not going to get a shower. They'd better get power by tomorrow morning because I need a shower. Well, I can fake it. I've done it before, but I'd prefer a real shower, if you know what I mean.
     
    The Kevin project hit a snag. Nothing serious, just a tiny bit of a problem. I'd thought it was going to take a total rewrite, but I don't think it's that bad right now. I'm working on a prologue to set some of Kevin's early history and introduce a couple characters who will have a significant impact on Kevin later in the story. Then I'm dropping the format option and maybe a few characters. I don't know for certain what is going on.
     
    You can't imagine how depressed I am; well, maybe some of you can. (I read blogs, after all.) I know I need to get back into therapy and soon. I've begun seeing things, again. It's unnerving because I know what I'm seeing isn't there, it's only my mind getting real confused on what is real. It's almost like it was the first time when I damned near went totally delusional and was so close to doing the final act that I knew I had to get help.
     
    It helps knowing you need help and aren't afraid to ask. The only thing I fear is having my medical card pulled. I don't think I'm that bad right now. I mean I should know, right? Or, is this just another manisfestation of a delusional mind? Could I be wrong about this and really need help right now? Maybe I need to get out of the truck.
     
    No, I think a good night's sleep should help.
     
    I've been tired a lot, lately. And, I'm eating too much, again.
     
    I guess I'd better stop because I'm beginning to make myself feel worse.
     
    Got to go, Joe just put up Chapter 12 of Tim and the Corsair.
     
    Looks like I'll have to work on my sanity tomorrow, which'll be good because I have a delivery in Santa Fe Springs tomorrow afternoon. I just love driving around LA.
     
  22. CarlHoliday

    Not sleeping

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's midnight and I'm not sleeping. I'm not sleepy, either. I am cold, though.
     
    I was driving south on I-5 and needed to pee, but there wasn't any parking at the rest area. So, I drove to the Love's truck stop south of Roseburg. When I came out I noticed the air hoses under the trailer were not hanging by the spring. The service line had been worn through. Of course, if it had been the other line, I'd have been up the highway with locked brakes, not a pretty scenario.
     
    Needless to say, I wasn't going any further. The company sent out a repair guy and he fixed the leaky air line. When we tested the brakes to make sure there was a good seal on the repair, the guy found a leak in the ABS on the left side of the truck when I apply my brakes. I've been wondering why I lose so much air when backing the trailer and now I found out.
     
    Unfortunately, the company I work for goes home at the end of the day and there is no one to call, not that calling was going to do any good since there aren't any ABS valves in-stock in Roseburg. So, I'm still here.
     
    It's no big deal as I don't have to be in Southern California until Wednesday afternoon, but I was planning a leisurely run.
     
    I could be writing. The Kevin project needs chapters; AND, as happens when you're writing a project like this, my muse came up with a new scenario for the story. It's kinder and gentler, plus being totally wacked out.
     
    But, mostly I'm not sleepy. I read a story in the anthology and that helped, not that it was boring. It was the one by LostCause. If you haven't read it yet, please do. It's kind of sad, actually, but very good.
     
    And, please read my story, too. In fact, you should read all the stories in the 2007 Winter Anthology, all of them are very good.
     
  23. CarlHoliday

    Bummer!

    By CarlHoliday,

    The mouse pad gave out. Nothing lasts forever. We live in an era of programmed obsolescence. Use a mouse pad on a laptop too much and it stops working. Not the pad, the switches. Switch the switches, but they still wear out.
     
    So, I bought a replacement mouse. Its lifespan was a couple years and then it gave up the ghost and died. Not, the mouse, the cord.
     
    Plus, the USB plug-ins on the laptop are right next to the power connection. They interfere and the monitor flashes every time the laptop switches from AC to battery. Bummer!
     
    Now, I have a wireless mouse. Its USB plug interferes with the power input even more. Flash! Flash! Flash! The system can
  24. CarlHoliday

    Doing it!

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, I've said this before, so if you're not interested or if you're put off by my incessant whining, you're excused from reading further.
     
    I considered commiting the ultimate sacrifice tonight.
     
    No, I did not consider offing myself.
     
    Get that out of your heads right now.
     
    I'm too F**KIN' chicken to do myself in. I can't stand the thought of experiencing a nanosecond of terminal pain.
     
    No, I considered going away for awhile.
     
    You see, the thing is, there might be enough money coming out of the settlement of my mother's estate to achieve the goal of nearly every debtor: DEBT FREE!
     
    Except for the house, but maybe that will be achievable, too, depending on how much our son will need to get a home of his own. Provide for your loved ones, then screw yourself into the ground.
     
    If I achieve that lofty goal, I may be in position to get some treatment for my depression. Some real treatment.
     
    You see, the depression is very wearing on my spirit. I think I have enough control over committing the ultimate solution, but I know my resolve is weakening.
     
    I want peace of mind. That's all I want. And, to me, that means committing myself to some form of severe therapy, which will mean cessation of my driving abilities. You can't be nuts and drive the big truck.
     
    I'm not nuts, yet, but I'm so close it isn't funny. You could say I'm one step from psychological oblivion. I can see that it would be very easy to take that step and be free of every worry I've ever had.
     
    Unfortunately, I still have some degree of responsibility toward those who love me, even if their love for me satisfies some selfish inner need to express love toward someone else.
     
    So, I'm safe, for now, I think.
     
    As long as I realize I have a responsibility to provide some degree of security to someone incapable of securing their own life, I think I'm safe from myself.
     
    On a happier note, I'm working on a Christmas story. I've written one every year for the past two years and I want to continue the tradition. This year's story is titled, "Merry Christmas Patrick." It's about a poor kid who finds out people love him, including the queer kid who is trying very hard to be his friend, just his friend. It's a Christmas story so there's no sex, sorry.
     
    Tomorrow night I have to take a load of dry groceries to Bend, OR. My dispatcher offered me this load when he didn't have to. At first I balked, but after thinking about the implications of turning down the offer, I called him back and said I'd do it. I am not looking forward to driving over the Cascade Mountains at night and having to put the chains on twice in each direction (if I go via US-26), besides having to drive down to Portland to pick up my truck and trailer. I told the wife not to expect me back until sometime Sunday. When I get back to Portland (after the delivery), I'll probaby sack out in the truck for awhile. No use in killing myself driving home.
     
    Also, if you haven't been by my forum, I'm looking for a volunteer moderator. If interested, be sure to read the request as you might be turned off by the job requirements.
     
    Well, got to get back to the Christmas story.
     
     
×
×
  • Create New...