I haven't been writing lately. I know, I'm being bad. Lines to punish me for this infraction are forming in the hall.

I don't tend to write when I'm depressed. This is why, in my older journal archives, if anybody ever gets interested enough to even pay attention to them, there are gaps of days, weeks, even almost a month in one spot.

Fortunately, this one was short. I am headed back up the hill again.

It's been six months, to the day, since my grandfather died. I haven't really had him on my mind that much lately -- at least, nothing specific. The notion of mortality isn't something I deal with very well, because it is simply an alien concept to me that I am here today and gone tomorrow. I guess when someone close to you dies, that only gets brought home more and more. It did when my grandmother died, and when Guy got killed in the line of duty. This was just another reminder, along with the constant reminders that I and everyone around me are getting older all the time, contracting our own special problems, heading down the garden path to the little cemetery at the end.

I've not been to the cemetery since the funeral, and I can hardly remember that day, to tell the absolute truth. It's not something I like to think about.

I am wishing I had gone to the cemetery today, but of course, I didn't. Why? Partly, I didn't want to run into my father. That's a long story that I don't want to go into right now.

Also, because I slept most of the day away.

I would also say because my beliefs about death are somewhat similar to Klingon beliefs, in that the body is just a shell, and when the person has died, the body is just a corpse. (I'm not saying I open the eyes of the deceased and scream out, or anything like that.) However, I also believe that the reason it's just a corpse is that the person is embodied in the mind of the individual, and once you've been dead for very long at all the brain damage means no revival of the mind is possible. The person is irrevocably gone.

So why make a big deal about going to the grave to pay homage to dead ancestors? Good question. Genetic memory? Maybe I'm feeling guilty for not being a better grandson. Maybe I'm trying to find some guidance that I think will mystically come to me from being in that place.

Being a lifelong atheist, I don't have any real belief that I can go there and talk and my grandparents will hear me. They're just gone, their "runtime" ceased functioning long ago.

Maybe I go there wondering what will happen when I am in that situation. Because I fear it. I am afraid that perhaps I am mistaken, technology won't save me from a fate like this. Maybe I'm afraid that I'll end up in a hole in the ground and nobody will really care if I was here or if I'm gone, or will ever have the time to come visit me because they're too busy.

Maybe this anniversary explains part of the turmoil my mind is in right now. I finally got to spend some absolutely wonderful time with Gurugrrl just shooting the breeze, having a really good time. (Marvelous voice. [grin]) I was nervous in the extreme, but I put it aside pretty well until after our conversation, when the thoughts came in.

The closer Gurugrrl and I get, the more emotional danger I feel that I am in. The danger of being left, or being hurt, or feeling like I was foolish for ever thinking that this could really happen, because maybe she doesn't really feel that way about me. The thing is, I know that's not the case. Things really are good. She confirmed as much to me the last couple days. I think it's obvious to both of us that we really care about the other, and we wish that we could be near each other now.

So what's wrong with me? My friend Mr. Paranoia seems to be paying me a visit, because somehow I seem to have convinced myself that this is too unreal, nothing good can happen to me, after all, I'm me. This is all wrong somehow, which can be easily supported with disparate facts that really don't point in that direction unless interpreted entirely out of context.

The problem with actually telling Gurugrrl that I am feeling this way is that I think she turns around and thinks that it must be something because of her. Unfortunately, I think I upset her enough, and she has her own stuff. I don't want to cause more problems. If my defective brain is a burden to her, I would just as soon she tell me to take a hike, because she needs that like I need another hole in my head.

Fortunately, it seems that with some slight over-the-counter pharmacological aid it's much easier to fight this time -- what would usually last for a week or more is fading after just about 24 hours. Of course, where it'll be tomorrow is anybody's guess, but I'm hoping that it's a dim memory by then. (Dim memory because... well... my memory is suffering, too, as is par with paranoia attacks. I remember the discussion we had before the thoughts came into play like it was five minutes ago. Everything since then is just a touch fuzzier than I would like.

I guess we should both be glad this is passing -- I know that paranoia causes serious problems, and neither of us like to even think about something bad happening to our relationship. I'd be a serious mess if something happened to it.

I wish the county would get off their collective asses and get around to me. I need to see somebody.

Since I've been down, I haven't been working that list of tasks that I mentioned in a previous entry. So guess what I get to do tomorrow!

Tomorrow I definitely need to work on the proposal for Evita and redesign my r�sum�. It's got that nice, spare, crisp '90s feel to it. Unfortunately, since it's practically not the '90s anymore, I guess I should spruce it up a bit.

What I wonder is what I tell people I've been doing the last year? I mean, sure, I started a business with somebody, that I left. And yes, now I do contract work. But other than that? I have no idea.

I talked to someone about this some time ago. She was a very successful business owner but had to gave up a good deal of the business because of her bipolar disorder, so I figured she might have some advice for me. She said to tell people in an interview that I took a sabbatical to study or write a book. This actually seemed like good advice to me. In a way, I have, although it's been a very unproductive one because motivation and control of my mind and mood is a day-to-day thing (at best!).

Alternatively, I could probably get Kirk to give me a bogus reference. Of course, the problem with that is that he's also my reference at the last couple places I worked, since I did actually work with him at those places.

I guess I have time to think about it. I just have to make sure I don't use the r�sum� that says I would like to become the Antichrist on the objective line. [grin]

restlessmind

Ancient history:

2013-03-01

"You'll be stone dead in a moment!"

2007-08-07

I covet fuck you money

2007-07-16

My own long, dark tea-time of the soul

2007-07-11

My internet experience is lacking

2007-07-10

Coincidence