Happy Birthdays!

Oh, and Happy 65th Birthday, Dad!

And a happy 32nd birthday, Mel, you bastard, off skiing or whatever it is you do in Albuquerque. Love ya!

What's my age again?

I'm not exactly clear why, but I keep thinking I'm 30 this year. Perhaps it's a self-inflicted delusion to encourage action and change. Perhaps.

Maybe it's just me thinking "I'm too old for this shit."

What hurts the most is not hurting at all

Angel Alberto Gulden Reyes. My maternal grandfather, and a man I never met. A man whose name I have forgotten many times. A man I never once talked to, who never expressed any interest in this branch of his family tree.

Today I learned that he passed away on November 14. He was 95.

May he rest in peace. I wish I could cry for him, or even feel the loss more than I do. I know that he had another life that began shortly after he divorced my grandmother not long after my mother was born. I hope they are able to mourn him where I can't.

The most I can say is thank you for being my ancestor. My family wouldn't exist if he hadn't walked this earth. So, thank you.

Gracias, Abuelo.

Be still, stop chattering

I feel like the past week has been spent fairly well overall. Most often the end of my days off either feels like it came far too soon or, sometimes, like it dragged on to eternity. No, there was just the right amount of activity and idle time. Books were read. Movies were watched. Laughs were had. Terrorists were foiled.

A good week.

Not perfect. There are bitter drops in the cup, not much to be done about some of them. Others, however, will just take some ballsiness to get out of bad situations and into a better place. Kind of hard, though, until I find out some other information to know exactly what kind of leverage I'll have. Even if it's not what I'm hoping for, though, change for the better is possibe. We'll see.

Looking to the near future, the fair's in town, Ingrid Michaelson is playing Tuesday, the fall kickball season is underway, and it's a beautiful day outside.

Random link of the week: Love coffee? Do did Bach.

Rolling down the highway

There are days and times when I feel about as useful and wanted as a solitary left shoe seen on the shoulder of a road. Where the hell do those even come from? They're even sadder than when you see a pair of shoes slung over a telephone wire - at least those have their mate with them.

Every little thing is gonna be alright

So things on Tuesday probably didn't go as well as they should have. I'll know in 8 weeks or so. But at least I had some good laughs both before and after, as well as one more kickball victory for the record.

Hormones suck. To quote a line by Seth Rogen, "Fuck you, hormones!" Poor planning sucks. Cheap shots suck, too.

Been angry/frustrated/blue since Thursday with breaks in the funk thanks to getting out of my head (at least temporarily) secondary to the acknowledgement that other people's problems are worse than mine and they could use funkless friends. Advantage? Every step out made the funk, while still present, more manageable. Seriously hoping that the depression I usually get hit with during my night week doesn't drive the levels back up. Currently drawing on a good store of positivity built up since Saturday and stockpiled over the course of today, so keeping my fingers crossed.

Have absolutely adorable nieces and nephews. Thank you.
Have good, good people in my life. Thank you.
Have come a long way as far as personal issues, even if there's a long way to go. Thank you.

...

Kill me. Please.

Or, if that's not an option, tell me that everything is gonna be alright. I leave it to your discretion if you sing it to me Bob Marley style.

Oh, look! Youtube is doing it for me.