Y'know kids, I'm trying as a teapot can, honest I am. Y'know, dead car, no prob, I'll get another. Failing classes? Meh, I'll do better next semester. Hate my living space? Just frickin move, then. Oh, and constantly not knowing how I'm going to pay for anything come the end of a month? Well, I'm a strong believer that you can get used to just about anything, eventually.

Oh yeah. Let's not forget having finally accepted that I don't so much have "friends" as people I spend time with because I don't know other people. Okay, so maybe I do have friends ... just don't like most of them. And of course, there's the ever-present injury. And with it, the choice of either suffering silently while others are oblivious, or actually pointing it out, and suddenly becoming the Weakest Link because you, apparently, can't handle something so complicated as walking.

And I've been good with all this. I'm rollin' with it all, right? Still single? Eh, who has time anyways? Suddenly spawning enemies at the new place of work? Well, shit happens.

But ya know what? Eventually, enough starts to be e-freakin-nough, really.

Because, I decided to start going to chem. dependency meeting all on my own, because I decided I didn't like the current state of affairs. Of course, quite reasonably, they request that you stay completely clean and sober, at least for the duration of the program. And here is where we run into trouble.

Okay, I can do all this. Not a problem. But you want me to fuckin smile while I'm at it? Christ, that's really, really asking a whole lot.

Really, it's not as if my life is all that bad. These days, if anything, the worst that can really said about it is that it's boring -- which, of course, is my own doing. (Oh, of course not drinking or doing anything else have helped with my social standing at the new place. I was leaving a convenience store yesterday morning about 7am, ran into some people from work who were just heading home. I thought the guy was gonna cream his pants, so surprised was he that I'd actually been partying all night. Which, of course, I had not been.) So what am I complaining about, then? My life is my own creation, and all.

Um. But no, not really it's not. As much as we may wish to create our own life and world, the fact is just random crap has to be thrown in there, too. Some call it luck, but I don't really believe in luck. I just think That's The Way It Goes. I mean, what are you gonna do? What happens, happens, right?

*sigh*. Yep. Like, the married lady who spent the whole night hitting on me last night. Yes, we can call it "harmless flirting", but I'm just gonna guess that your husband would be really, really pissed if he walked in right about now. You see, girls like me, just not the available ones. Oh, and there is a coworker I've thought cute ever since training. My attraction/gaydar strikes again, as she is of course a lesbian who is happily in love.

Forgive me, I'm rambling a bit. Where I'm going is that ... no, my life isn't that bad. But don't ya just get sick of falling back two steps for every one you take? I mean, really -- all things considered, I think I handled the broken bone pretty well. But when, exactly, does this shit ever let up?

And of course, the answer is that it doesn't. Some good may come to you. But you can be goddamn sure some more bad's gonna come, too. Why? Because that's just the state of human existence. Joy and rapture are quite in short supply. But a great overabundance of all kinds of pain, torment, and suffering. Have as much as you want, there's always plenty more.

And -- hm. Have I been depressed? Probably. I quit drinking because I thought it should really help, and as far as depressed moods go I think that it does. More than likely, if I actually manage to go this whole program without smoking, I'll probably say that helps, too.

But helps with what? Helps one stay grounded in the real world, of course. Helps one to see things more or less as they are, rather than as the harbinger of all the things that we fear. But there's a catch in there, isn't there? Suppose you come out of chemical depression, only to understand that your life is really nothing to sing about, anyways? This is to say, turns out there's a reason you've not wanted to be sober for so long? Then what?

So. Yeah, though my friends have all undoubtedly been convinced I've been depressed this whole time (why else would I avoid the joy of their company?) I'm thinking now maybe I should just go ahead and run with it. No, it won't help. In fact I can see it doing a great deal of damage. My life's okay, but certainly still precarious enough that a couple of months of screwing up should destroy pretty much all I have going.

So, um... right. Why would I want to do that, again?

*sigh* Guess I don't want to, then.

Listen -- will someone please just do me a favor, and get me from quite far away with a sniper rifle? I mean, make sure I never even had a chance to say "ouch", y'know? I mean, they shoot horses when they break a leg, right? Well fine, I'm not a horse. But I'm as strong as one. And hung like one, of course. Heh.

Boredom is a horrible thing, kids. Leaves you with nothing to do but consider how crappy the last several years have been. So yeah -- guessing I just need to get out more?