Personal Journal

Tired

It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn

I must be depressed again because I don't give a shit about anything.
Despite that, I painted miniatures for 3 hours tonight while I watched basketball (which I abhor), CSI, and then a 48-hours mystery about one of those fuckers who kills his ex-wife.

I wish people didn't kill people. I'm surprised at all I believe in god, to tell the truth. There's no sense in the world, and if there's a god, he's got to love order.

I spend a little time wishing something would happen to kill me. I haven't written much here - last Sunday I crashed my mountain bike (I was riding to alleviate depression after my first-ever cat died of old age issues) and I have a hole in my elbow about a half inch deep and the size of a quarter. The infection is very serious, yet I keep taking my anti-biotics. A hundred years ago they'd have amputated my arm or I'd have died.

I keep thinking to myself that if I die, I get to be with Jean again, and man, that sounds like something to look forward to. Tomorrow I'm preparing her flower beds. I have to do it on my own this year, somehow, despite so little knowledge. God I hope I make them attractive and don't kill them. I continue to try to do what Jean wanted me to do - take care of the cats, be a good man.

This flowerbed thing I want to do to honor her memory, and if I fuck it up, it's really going to hurt. It hurt when Dusty died last week, because I felt like I let both Dusty and Jean down.

Life is heavy again. It'll pass for a while at some point. And then it will be heavy again.
I'm surprised I don't get more used to it.