I break.

Pieces fall.

Smaller and smaller I become.

What is left?

Me?

Nothing.

A pile of what was.

Hopes. Dreams.

Just whisps in the air.

Empty.

It’s been a tough week.

RBG, passed away yesterday and for some reason, I can’t keep it together.

I would break from time to time.

Sadness.

Uncertainty.

There’s so much that is uncertain about the future that I’m worried.

Scared.

Our humanity dies.

Our civilization crumbles to dust, back to the days of dictatorship and fascism.

People see what’s happening and the two factions fight over scraps while the elites pick the prized pieces, leaving us with the crumbs.

Ignorant.
So many are ignorant.

So many just want us to lose, which means everyone loses.

Sides.

As long as their side lose, I don’t care.

Even if everything about their side doesn’t help or give you everything that you ask for but take things away.

I don’t care.

That’s the world that we live in today.

I’m frightened.

I’m at a loss.

Hope fades.

What is there to do?

Nothing?

Go vote.

I can vote, my voice, my one vote to what I think is right, but I have no control over how others vote.

Anarchy reigns.

Every day more fuel gets added to the inferno that is ravaging across the US.

Figuratively AND literally.

America burns.

All we do is watch.

I can’t concentrate.

I can’t focus.

There’s so much pain.

There’s so much angst about everything.

What does anything even matter anymore.

Laws are broken.

Clearly.

Republicans ignore it.

The government ignore it.

We are a laughingstock to the world.

Our passports are now worthless.

Republicans don’t care.

I’m not saying that all of them are bad, but at the moment, that’s all I can do, group them all together.

That’s all I can do.

It’s them vs. us.

That’s a house divided and that’s our end.

This IS the end of America.

We no longer exist.

Gone.

It happened.

It finally happened.

Retired.

Mom retired.

She signed up for the voluntary layoff and will start collecting her pension.

All of this before her 61st birthday.

Tired.

Sore.

Lazy.

Her words, not mine.

I feel the same and I look forward to the day where I can.

Someday.

Long haul.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

It’s not even a marathon. It’s the way of life.

It’s life now and I need to make changes to it.

I need to adapt.

I need to settle into a routine or some semblance of one.

We’re not going back to the office until next year and even then that will be drastically different.

This is what life IS now.

I need to make changes.

I decided to settle and work on a schedule.

I’m re-implementing or continuing Movie Night Mondays again.

I’ll put aside any shows I’m watching until the other days and watch movies on Mondays.

They don’t necessarily have to be movies that are released in “theaters” but something I haven’t seen before.

That’s an ever-growing list, so I’m sure that I won’t run out of movies to watch.

New routines.

Old routines.

Things to keep me busy.

Things to keep my mind off of this new fucked up normal that is life.

Fuck Trump.

Fuck China.

Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve declared my Fuck to them.

Fuck ‘em.

Being locked in isn’t any fun.

My Old Friend is back. Not as strong and the same strangeness. He lingers enough to let me know I’m not right.

He lingers enough to let me know that I’m not okay.

He lingers enough to let me know that I’ll survive.

It’s okay to acknowledge it.

It’s healthy to.

We all should be able to feel how we feel and not be afraid of it.

Sigh.

Back to it.

Back to my thought.

I feel like I should be writing again.

I want to explore my options of creativity.

I want to get my juices going.

Words.

Drawing.

Music.

I want it all.

I need any outlet.

This drive only comes when my Old Friend pays me a visit and this is no different.

Music.

That’s something that I really do want to explore.

Maybe from a little Garageband or just anything to play around with. It won’t be good, but I don’t care.

I just want to create.

I just want to focus on something else.

Feel productive.

Produce.

Something.

I should start.

I will start.

Poetry.

Words.

I want to create it all.

I will create it all and that’ll be my future.

I’ll be a Renaissance Man.

Let’s do it.

Fear. The empty page.

Everything jumbles. Words. Phrases. Sentences.

Thoughts.

Jumble.

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to write.

I always face this issue.

I start.

It never ends up what I want or even close to what it used to be.

I lost the gift.

I lost that drive.

Time off.

Interests fade.

The little Joyce-ian stream of consciousness diatribes that I was so great at back in the day are no more.

They don’t come.

Jumble.

I don’t know what it is.

I don’t know.

Day after day.

Everything is the same.

My thoughts. My lack of motivation and lack of inspiration.

Same.

Gone.

No more.

I don’t even know what life is anymore.

It’s another cycle of the day before.

Nothing new.

Nothing changes.

I need to settle in.

It’ll be for the long haul ‘cause there is no end in sight.

None.

I think as time drags on, second by second, in this horrible joke called Eternal Quarantine I’ll succumb to the mind numbing of it and will start to create again.

From the ashes, life rises.

I need to write again.

Creative writing.

Stories.

Scripts.

I miss it.

I need to dig through my notes and see where I left off.

I need to do so many things.

No motivation.

No inspiration.

None.

Sigh.

Life.

It’s a general unease of anxiety as our future is uncertain.

What will happen?

The election?

No ONE knows.

No one.

I’m a man. Struggling. Alone.

Aren’t we all.

Alone.

What is?

Sigh.

I don’t know what to write but I do know that I want to write something. I just don’t know what to put down.

It’s been a little over a month since my last one and since then, there really much going on in my life.

What the fuck is happening?

Nothing?

Nothing is happening in my life as we all are still in quarantine with no end in sight.

We are on day 148 of quarantine.

148 days.

Four months. Almost five.

Stuck at home.

Sigh.

Normal?

Definitely not normal, but it is the new new normal.

Sigh.

Hahaha.

What is life anymore?

What is normal?

Something different…I was kind of sexually harassed today.

It’s not offensive and it was a joke, but it felt good.

Some human interaction with a total stranger.

Something that is missing in my life at the moment as we’re quarantined from everyone.

I was leaving Vons and I about to leave the store and stopped and told the lady in front of me to go first. She said I can go first….” I like to watch them leave”..or something along those lines.

Hahaha. It was cheesy. It was stupid, but I don’t care.

I thanked her.

I laughed.

It was something.

It was different.

Along a similar vein. I’ve been seeing a meme that has been going around.

Men are so starved for attention that a single compliment. can from a girl can make the guy like the girl or the person giving the compliment.

It’s true.

I don’t think it necessary applies to me, but I think the point that I am trying to make is that we don’t get complimented that much.

We are starved.

For just something genuine.

Well, at least I am.

Yes. I am aware. I do know that my life, my seclusion is my own doing.

I’m a hermit.

Sue me.

Sigh.

New normal.

New normal.

Sigh.

The world is falling apart.

Chaos.

The Apocalypse.

Trumpocalypse.

The Orange One.

Fuck China.

Our world is regressing and its sad.

Very sad.

I can feel it.

That feeling.

My Old Friend is back again.

That weird tingy feeling.

It’s not the same feeling that I felt when I was younger, but this new adult friend feeling.

It’s different but the same.

Different but the same.

It is what it is

Fuck Trump.

Sigh.

I’m lost.

I don’t know where to go and what to do.

I don’t know what to write anymore.

Overall.

I’m not okay.

But I’m OKAY.

I’m a survivor and I’m okay.

To be out.

Exploring.

Nature.

Public.

What was it like?

What is life…..?

A few weeks ago during the first few phases of the state reopening – a little too soon, but it is some minor progress – I decided that I needed to get away.

No work.

Took an extra long weekend.

I needed to get out, to do some hiking, to do one of my mental health hike and wine weekends.

I decided to go up to Paso Robles again to do some wine tasting and hiking.

Pinnacles National Park was an hour-and-a-half away.

Perfect.

The Friday started off late with an issue with work that pretty much plagued the whole day and tinged the weekend.

MediaOcean issues.

Work.

I had rough plans for the weekend. Friday was an easy drive out to Hearst Castle State Beach and do a hike along the peninsula.

There were so many emails going back and forth that day with the MediaOcean issues that I had a call or two with a few users and many emails with MO. When I parked at my first hiking destination for the day, I had to get onto the server and make a few updates.

Worked.

There were issues that lingered that I couldn’t help so I ignored much of everything after that.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the trail to the path, so I went back to Moonshine State Beach and did half the hike that I did last time.

It was beautiful and nice but strangely uncomfortable all at the same time.

This was my first time out of the city where masks are mandatory out in public if you can’t maintain social distancing.

Not many masks around.

Uncomfortable.

It was like culture shock.

I did my best to keep my mask on or tie it up when I’m around people or passing people.

It was the same when I got to Paso.

I had a 5pm dinner reservation at Les Petites Canailles. Walking downtown Paso, again, culture shock. No masks or not many on people.

It was like it was normal, like Covid-19 never really happened.

There really wasn’t much I can do. I felt safe in the restaurant though. Tables were spaced far apart and the staff did wear masks.

The food was good. I had the tartar again. That was great. I ordered the pork chop again, but they definitely did it differently than the last time I was there. It was either deep fried or just pan fried then deep fried or put in the salamander to finish off. Doesn’t matter, because it was over cooked. It wasn’t bad, but disappointing considering how great it was the last time I was there in November.

The wine.

Amazing.

The experience, I definitely miss it.

Not just the party-of-one experience, but the whole dining out experience.

That normalcy.

Life.

I definitely missed it after being quarantined for so long.

I guess it was a little getaway to the new normal of everyday life to some weird back to pre-Covid normalcy.

It was a vacation away for the world.

I didn’t do any tastings that night. I had the two glasses of wine, finished dinner and then walked around downtown to digest and get more exercise in since I didn’t get as much hiking in as I wanted.

The next day, Pinnacles.

I didn’t know what to expect. I woke up early and made my way, getting there a little after 7:30.

It’s a park that you kind of drive to different parking lots and explore from there. No shuttle service or what not.

Strangely, you can’t drive through the whole park.

With lock down, the only thing you can do is park at the visitor center and then hike in. It was a good 2 miles from the visitor center to the main trailhead.

I didn’t have much of a plan since I didn’t do much research on the park, but I had an idea.

There are two cave systems at Pinnacles but they were closed. I remember reading that somewhere, but wasn’t aware until I started the hike.

I did the Bear Gulch Trail towards the cave and then up to the High Peaks Trail and did one giant loop. With that, I saw about half of the park.

According to my Fitbit, I did about 13 miles that day. I would probably say I did close to 11 miles that day. The giant loop itself was probably 6-7 miles already and then I had to count the hike to and from the visitor center.

Overall, it was a good day. It was nice to be out in nature, hiking, sweating, having the sun beat down on me.

My meditation. My Zen.

Again, not many people wearing masks on the trail.

We have to manage with stops and turning around and not breathing. I had my mask down until I needed to pass someone and it’s back on.

I was finished and back to my car around 12:30. A 5-hour hike.

It got a lot crowded throughout the day and that definitely didn’t jive well with me. Some of the trails are narrow. Hard to social distance.

Glad I’m an early hiker.

But the views are grand.

The might California Condors gliding through the high mountains were simply majestic.

It was a much much needed outing and I need another one.

I couldn’t decide if I should gotten lunch when I got back. I got back too late so I went back to the hotel and crashed.

I hurt.

Everything hurt.

I went to explore downtown a little early that day so I can do some tastings. I only went to one winery, CaliPaso. It was more a wine bar than a tasting room.

Again, no mask. No social distancing. It was different.

I had a good time there. I enjoyed their wine. I wanted to get back and get a bottle, but I forgot.

For dinner, I went to the Italian Restaurant, Il Cortile Ristorante. It was still good, as I had a pasta primi dish and a grilled ribeye. I needed the protein. Was craving steak and I had a nice chill seat outside.

The wine. Great.

There, I met a couple from San Francisco whom like everyone else needed a much needed getaway from their newborn and the quarantine.

The husband invited me to sit down with them and I’m sure the wife was annoyed as fuck. Too funny. The husband was definitely an extrovert. I’m on the fence about her.

I put their bottle of wine on my tab. The least I could do for them sharing their wine with me and inviting me to chat with them at their table.

I guess I needed some social contact too.

After dinner, I walked around downtown debating if I should go for a tasting, but decided that I was too tired. I got some Cold Stone and went back and crashed.

Sunday.

Sunday. Sunday. Sunday.

My last day in the city. I planned on leaving early the next day like I normally would so I had a full day in the apartment to unwind.

I didn’t have solid plans.

I decided to go and check out some wineries on the east side of town on the 46. I didn’t realize there’s like a giant strip mall there.

The first winery that I went didn’t do any tastings. Only brunch which I wasn’t interested. I drove around that giant complex and found another winery, Mitchella, and it was great.

I didn’t have an appointment/reservation but they squeezed me in. I didn’t want to make the effort of making an appointment so I didn’t get to do as many tastings as I want. I would have to plan accordingly next time if quarantine is still in effect.

They had a decent tasting with a cheese pairing. I enjoyed it. I couldn’t decide on which two wines to get, but I decided on the Malbec. I’m venturing out from my usual Cab and I think it’ll be great for me.

After, I tried to do another tasting room but again, appointments or no walk-ins, so I decided to get some lunch instead.

I went to Firestone Walker Brewery for a nice burger. Their food wasn’t bad.

I got to do some beer tasting too. Definitely would need to pay them another visit. Apparently there’s a Firestone here in Venice. Worth a trip I think.

After lunch I went back to the hotel room and relaxed.

There were some plumbing issues at this cheap motel so they put me in a double room for the night. Next time, I’ll be looking at a different location, maybe something closer to downtown?

Who knows?

But I do know there will be a next time.

Dinner, I went cheap. Mexican. A good meal for less than $30.

I was so full that I didn’t do much after. I thought about getting the bottle from CaliPaso, but they closed. Many wineries closes early on Sunday.

Next time for sure.

Next time though, I would need to plan things out. Make appointments. Make it worth it.

Now, here we are.

Back to life. Back to reality.

For how long?

The foreseeable future.

We’re fucked.

‘Murica!

But I did get a standing desk and a new office chair. We’ll be working from home for who knows when, might as well make it better for me.

Sitting for work for the past couple of months definitely hurt me. Haven’t felt so tired in so long. One of the reasons why I’ve made me own standing desk in the office.

Been doing the standing thing for about a few days now and I definitely feel a lot less tired after my day.

It was worth the investment.

Life.

New normal.

Sigh.

Till the next whenever.

Sigh.

What is life?

What is it even?

Where are we?

What day is it?

Does it even matter anymore?

Questions.

So many questions.

Sigh.

Life.

Just another day in a series of endless days with no end in sight.

106.

It’s been 106 days since we’ve been in this new normal.

Quarantine.

Safer at home.

We’re all here, just trying to survive.

Another day of just not going crazy and staying sane, finding something else to focus on besides this fucking shit show that is America right now.

Quarantine.

Day 106.

Independence Day 2020.

The ironic thing, as we are trapped in our own isolation because of COVID-19, it’s people’s cry of independence and infringement of mask laws that are keeping us here.

People.

They’re the worst.

We’re the worst.

Sigh.

2020.

The shit show continues, but now, we’re in the 2nd half.

What does it have instore for us?

Who the fuck knows?

 

What happened since the last time I posted her?

Lots but nothing much all at the same time.

Pickles continues to be Pickles as we continue to figure out how bad his health really is.

He continues to get better and then bad again and then I get paranoid and put him back on meds and then I freak out again as he gets worse.

I don’t know what to do.

The sign of a cough or hearing it at night just puts me in a frenzy of not knowing what is the best thing for him.

He hasn’t lost his appetite as he continues to eat and function as her normally does.

His pace slowed.

Only doing the half normal walk that we do, and even then that’s a slow struggle for him.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know.

One day at a time. That’s all that we can do and that’s all that I can handle.

He’s 15.

In the new dog age calculator, that makes him about 74.3 years old.

He’s an old old man. He’s been an old old man and that comes with old old man complications.

He’s 15.

I got him 14 years ago. So long ago.

He was 8 months.

The funny thing is for some reason I kept thinking he was 5 months instead of 8 and so I always thought his birthday was in August.

June.

He turned 15 in June.

How long does he have left?

I don’t know.

I don’t want to think about it.

Not today.

 

Relish.

She’s fine.

Normal.

Loving and bitchy.

The QUEEN.

 

This particular week has been a little trying for me, especially for the past couple of days.

On Tuesday night I got some bad news.

It was late, past midnight. I got up to take Pickles out for his midnight pee and as I opened my front door I found a police officer and a medical examiner outside my neighbors door.

Malinda.

She passed.

The medical examiner was the coroner and they just removed her body from her apartment.

She passed in her apartment alone and no one knew. She could have been gone for a few days or possibly a few weeks.

No one knew.

The wretched smell wafted from her apartment.

She’s been gone a while and no one knew.

I don’t even remember the last time I saw her. Has it been only last week or has it been longer? Did I see her as she was leaving her apartment to go on her walk to the grocery store? Or did I see her on her struggled walk to the grocery store.

I don’t remember.

Only images and memories float in my mind as I try to recall. No dates. No time. Just images.

I liked Malinda. Sure she had her issues. Anger issues and a little OCD, but she was always nice.

I’m sad to see her go and especially in that way. But I do hope she’s in a better place.

No pain and with the ones she loved.

It was a rough day for me the day after.

I was in my head. Dark stormy thoughts floated in and out.

I haven’t felt that old friend of mine in so long.

It was foreign yet familiar all at the same time.

Darkness – My Old Friend.

What if it had been me? What would happen if I was the one who died alone in my apartment? How long would my body be there before anyone realize, especially in our new normal of Social Distancing.

What would happen to Pickles and Relish? What would they do?

Would I die alone?

Will I always be alone?

Dark thoughts.

Black thoughts.

They came. I acknowledge the feel and allowed myself to feel and experience them. It took its course and went on its way.

I didn’t dwell. I didn’t spiral.

It came and then it went.

Sigh.

Life.

 

The World.

The States.

We’re fucked.

Out of any developing country in the world, the States can’t control Covid. Our numbers are rising. More infected. More dying.

The Orange Tard isn’t doing anything about it. We’ve given up. He’s lost the war and his base still believes he’s done a great job.

The World looks at us as a fucking plague. We can’t travel anywhere since THE OTHER MOTHERFUCKING COUNTRIES ARE DENYING ANY US CITIZEN ACCESS TO THEIR COUNTRY BECAUSE WE CAN’T CONTROL THE FUCKING VIRUS.

I don’t blame them. I would have done the same.

Mexico closed their borders to us.

Holy fuck.

The irony.

The United States of America is fucked and yet, here we are: Mission Accomplished

FUCK YOU Trump.

Just

FUCK

YOU

 

FUCK CHINA.

They passed the National Security Law in Hong Kong, basically remove any autonomy and freedoms of speech that they had.

FUCK CHINA.

I’m sadden, angry, and disheartened that no one is stepping up to fight this.

It’s International Law & Politics and I’m not expert, but can’t wall just agree that China is asshoe and that they are a horrible country with horrible track record of human rights?

Look at the concentration camps and possible ethnic cleaning of the Uyghurs.

FUCK CHINA.

At this point, I don’t care if I get banned and flagged by them.

FUCK CHINA.

Sigh.

 

No one realizes that the Apocalypse is a slow burn instead of the raining fire and brimstone that they see in movies.

The world slowly dies.

And we are here to watch.

I haven’t even mentioned the killing of George Floyd and the nationwide protests of the #BlackLivesMatter movement and the #defundthepolice movement against policy brutality.

It’s a sad time we live in, especially here in America.

We’ve fallen so far.

The Greatest Nation in the World is no different than any other Shit hole country that The Orange Tard hates.

Sigh.

 

Day 106 of quarantine.

Let’s settle in for the long haul since numbers are going up and up again as we reel back our reopening.

We reopened too soon and now here we again.

Yay ‘murica!

Yay indeed.

WEAR A FUCKING MASK! It’s not that fucking hard you bunch of Ken and Karens

Sigh.

I thought I had wanted to write today.

It’s been a while since I’ve put something down…or up, here. It’s been about a month.

My last post was my yearly another year older, another year wiser.

A month.

It’s been so long. Time flies. Days blend.

Quarantine.

It’s special times. It’s trying times.

I’m making the best of it.

…trying to keep in good spirits and good health, mentally, and physically.

I’ve been going out for walks by myself. Pickles can’t keep up or go for that long now.

Old pup. Old man. Old dog.

He’s managing. We’re managing.

He’s much better now. Much better.

I took him off all of his meds since he seems to be back to normal. I know that the doctors say that he’ll need to be on the meds for the rest of his life, however long that may be, but they were just giving him problems.

This might be better for him.

Pickles seems fine. We’re adjusting. We’re settling onto a new pattern and a new normal.

Quarantine time. Special times.

I don’t even know what day of quarantine it is.

Day 59.

Restrictions are slowly lifting here in Los Angeles, but it really doesn’t affect me much. Status quo.

Still can’t go into the office nor are we in a rush to open up the office.

We’re all able to work from home and that’s going to be the new normal for the foreseeable future. Special times. Quarantine time.

Work is steady, buy frustrating.

It’s frustrating because I have no motivation to do much of anything. I have no motivation to work on the database project.

I have no motivation for anything.

I think WFH is not conducive to my productivity. There are too many distractions.

Too close to the kitchen.

Too close to the TV.

Too close to the pets.

But there’s one good thing that came out of this. I’m able to provide Pickles more care that he needs.

He gets to go out more to pee. He gets to sleep more because he’s not so worried about needing to go pee.

Resting. Restful.

Quarantine times.

Relish does what she does. I definitely see a lot more of her now though. It’s because I’m in the apartment more, but also because she chills on the futon while I’m in front of the computer.

Usually on the weekends, she would go into the closet and sleep. Not this time. I enjoy it. Maybe her way of saying, cool. Who knows?

Who knows, indeed.

No idea when this whole thing will be over.

Given how the US is so fucked when compared to other countries, it’ll be a while.

The Orange One isn’t helping and his fucking base supports everything that he does.

Sigh.

It’s the Apocalypse and this is how we go.

Sigh.

Quarantine times.

Special times.

When LA opened testing for all residents, regardless of symptoms, I went to get tested.

Negative.

I was hoping the test would show whether I had been infected and now have recovered also instead of just a simple do I have it or not during the time of test.

Negative.

That’s good.

But I do have a suspicion that I had it many months back.

But I will never know.

In a way, it did give me a peace of mind that I’m doing my best to be healthy.

I’m checking to see if I have it, whether I have symptoms or not. I could have been asymptomatic. Who knows?

It’s something to do. Something to let you know that you are doing your best to be healthy and stay that way.

Something to do.

Quarantine Times.

Special times.

I’ve been cooking so much during this quarantine and eating so much.

I’ve gained weight.

So much cheese.

So much carbs.

Bread.

Back to bread making.

It’s been challenging.

Sourdough.

I’ve lost my skills.

They’re gone.

I need to work on them again. I need to make a few more loaves.

But I need to ration my flour a little bit more.

I’ve gone through a whole 5lb bag in a week.

Need to take a break, even though I do plan on doing more baking soon.

I want to make baguettes for banh mi. I just need to plan on when.

I need to make more pizza dough.

I just made bagels today. So easy. So damn good.

My Zen. My meditation. Cooking.

Something to do, to keep my mind busy and clear.

Something to keep me sane as I’m dealing with this quarantine.

It’s been a little taxing on me. This lack of control.

But I’m managing.

I’m staying healthy.

I’m staying positive.

I’m settling.

We all are.

Me. My pets. My family.

We’re good.

Quarantine times.

Special times.

I sit and type and nothing comes to mind.

This post had been playing in my head for the past few days as I figured out that it was that time again.

Usually I would go back and read through all of my similar yearly posts, but it didn’t happen this year. I didn’t have the motivation. I didn’t have the spirit to.

Times are tough. I’m built for this, but they are tough.

Days blur. Days blend together.

Monday..Tuesday…ThurSatuSunday….

Days.

But it’s that time again. It’s I’m another year older, another year wiser.

40

40

40

41

41

41

I’m a new number.

 

40.

It was a year.

A year of adulting? I guess.

I’ve made changes.

Hair.

Trying to control my anger better.

Not cussing anyone out.

But that’s about it.

Instead of dressing up, it was a year of dressing down. Like, down down.

T-shirt and jeans or a hoodie.

I can’t win them all.

My day-to-days never really changed with work.

Projects get added and projects get finished.

Work continues and I continue to do the best that I can to finish it.

Responsible.

Which I’ve always been, continues. Currently though, in this Trumpdemic, I’m kind of shirking my responsibilities.

No motivation to do anything. No motivation to work.

Maybe this short little break was exactly what I needed.

Besides work responsibilities, I’ve also made a decision to be more responsible about my mental health.

I know what I need from time to time and sometimes that’s a break from work to clear my mind. I’m taking a bigger look at my mental health and scheduling some much needed off time to destress.

In the past year or so, or maybe it started over a year ago I’ve been doing these hiking and wine weekends. I would pick a place that’s a reasonable drive and would go explore, find great hiking to do, enjoy the scenery and then spend day or two wine tasting. It’s a mini vacation.

I made a few of these trips in this past year and in a way, it did change my life. It’s a sign that I’m willing to take time off when I really don’t need to. I use it as an excuse to get away and recharge my mental health and that’s what it is. I’ve even started to put down mental health weekend in the little reason box when I’m requesting time off.

Responsibilities.

40.

Mental Health.

Adulting means taking care of your health.

Adulting means taking care of you.

I’m all about that now. I’m all about my mental health.

No one wants to deal with mean and grumpy and crazy.

Adulting.

Looking out for me and others.

40.

I’m in it now.

41.

I’m no longer 40, but in my 40s.

Again, with each year, socializing and talking has gotten easier.

In a way, I still don’t make the first interaction, but there are times when I do make the first effort.

Each year it gets easier.

The older I get, the more confident I get.

That’s a trend I’ve noticed.

Let’s continue this trend. Slow but steady.

Life gets better. Life gets easier.

Being around people. Being with people.

Easier.

Building relationships with peers.

Easier.

Talking/Chatting with strangers.

Easier.

Adulting.

I’m making an effort.

Making progress.

40.

You were the start of it.

Adulting.

I’m sure that it started long before…this growth, this evolution, but you definitely were a point where I tried to make things official.

40.

It was a good start and hopefully it’ll just get better from here on out.

40.

A new decade to grow and find more of myself.

40.

Thank you.

I’m another year older, another year wiser.

41.
It’s a slow start.

It’s a different start.

But hopefully I’ll get the same results as every year, a better understanding of who I am and more personal growth.

We all need to grow and learn more about ourselves.

41.

Let’s do this.

Social Distancing.

It’s my norm. It’s second nature to me.

We are now ordered to stay at home and not go to work or anywhere non-essential.

Safer at home.

That’s what we’re calling it. It goes by other names of course.

Shelter in place

Stay the fuck home is what I prefer to call it.

So, here we are. Stuck at home.

No human contact…for the most part.

We’re able to go out, do some exercises, get groceries, among other essential needs like order take out, get money, and get gas…

There might be a few other things, but at the moment, I don’t care.

This is the new normal for the foreseeable future. I don’t know when this will go away or when we can beat this pandemic.

No one knows.

The peak should happen in a few weeks. We’re not even on peak levels yet. In about three more weeks we shall be.

Three weeks and then what? Will we get to leave the house? Social Distancing will go away?

No one knows at the moment. No one knows if this is working; slowing the virus.

No one knows.

I haven’t seen any trends yet. We have more and more positive cases as more people are getting tested and more and more deaths.

This isn’t a hoax like 45 and his cronies are saying.

Fuck him.

I had to stop watching his daily briefings because it is so anger inducing.

He’s an angry insecure petty little man.

We need a better leader. A more competent leader. A more empathetic leader.

Not someone who has such a little ego that he’ll play with people’s lives because some governor called him out on his sit.

But here we are.

Self-Quarantining.

Safer at home.

Sheltering in place.

Time slows.

Moments all fade into one moment and it’s hard to tell what time of the day or what day it is.

There’s no routine.

There’s no sense of normalcy in this new normalcy.

How long will this last?

No idea.

No idea.

Pickles had a rough week this week. He’s been having a rough year.

His health declines.

Slower.

Lethargic.

It’s his heart.

Heart disease.

I took him to the vet and then emergency vet this week.

He had fluids in his lungs.

They tested the fluids and they came back negative for anything suspicious.

No cancer.

Heart disease, which is more manageable. It’s the best outcome to have.

The meds that he’s on makes him leak. It gives him the runs.

I adjusted his feeding schedule the best I can to alleviate the diarrhea issue, but I can’t do much about the leak issue. It’s about an hour or two after I give him his meds that it happens.

I don’t know how long this will last.

Definitely a new normal.

I know one day; I’ll have to make that choice.

It’ll come and I’ll have to be ready.

I know I can make it. But, can I really?

I don’t know.

One day at a time.

One day.

At a time.

 

Well……it’s happened.

Social chaos.

Covid-19.

Coronavirus.

Whatever you want to call it.

Mass hysteria.

People are freaking out.

Calm your tits everyone.

Fuck.

It’s a global pandemic as more and more people are getting sick.

Dumptard 45 didn’t do shit but slow any reasonable help and further the spread.

We are in the middle of an apocalypse now and I don’t know how many more years we have left before the end of the world.

Sigh.

So fucking crazy.

So. Fucking. Crazy.

The world is out of toilet paper because the mass hysterics are buying them up.

We are social-distancing, locked down in a self-quarantine, but people are buying toilet paper of all things?

I understand shelf-stable food or dried food, sustenance to get you over the two-three week quarantine, but fucking toilet paper?

How many shits are you going to take? If you run out of toilet paper, you have a bathtub to bidet your asshole…fucking assholes.

Mass hysteria.

People are stupid.

Sigh.

The world we live in now. I don’t recognize it.

Fucking crazy.

Just fucking crazy.

Work.

Work had been a little stressful in the past couple of days, possibly week leading up to this.

We officially have the option to work from home.

It was an ordeal to assess the situation and hardware and figuring out ways to ensure that people get access to everything they need to be able to work from home.

Special circumstances.

Definitely, special times.

People at work are freaking out about this.

Why?

What the fuckity fuck?

Sigh.

People.

Sheep.

They are crazy.

Mob mentality.

Herd mentality.

People freak out, so other freak out.

This hysteria is more contagious than the virus itself.

I will probably still be going into the office daily instead of working from home.

Most likely, there won’t be that many people in the office, and I can actually focus on the database/reporting project a little more.

More focus to work on my usual day-to-day and not deal with other things that I get dragged into.

Hopefully.

Everyone working from home might bring on other challenges.

Sigh.

Interesting times we live in.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen to my trip in April.

I still plan on going, but that’s not up to me.

Not sure what the airlines are going to do, or what Washington State is going to do or what the Nation is going to do or decide on travel and quarantine.

I still plan on going to Chicago and I still plan on attending the Ignite conference.

Status quo.

Life goes on and I’m taking it a day at a time.

That’s all I can do.

That’s all everyone can do.

Take control where you can, but let other things go.

The world is going crazy and the best thing you can do is to keep your wits and let crazy do crazy.

Ain’t a need to go and participate in the madness.

Take a deep breath and Namaste that shit out.

REPEAT.

One day at a time.

Funny.

To think that 2020 was going to be a good year.

It’s the end of the world.