I just don't know anymore
You know, I used to pound out three entries a day, every weekday. Now, I'm posing more Warhammer 40k battle reports than anything. When I post at all. I don't think I'm more depressed, it's just that my job has demanded more and more of my time, and I have less and less time for this blog.
I have also found that my railing has been more like tilting at windmills, ala Don Quixote. While I don't have the vitriol like the Tennessee Guerilla Women, I don't see how my spewing has changed anything in any significant way. I am not like my friend Mike, who while on hiatus still gets 10 times the hits I did when I was at my prime. I was getting 400 hits a day for a while, but that was because someone had put a pornographic picture in my blog and Yahoo! and Google cached it.
I think I need to write this to get some things off my chest, as I still struggle with my mental illness every day. Despite the fact that I haven't had a major attack or an urge to blow my brains out for quite a while, I am three missed doses away from having those come back at full force. I am stuck in limbo at the moment, my life can only get better by getting worse, and can only get worse by getting better first. I know that was confusing, but I have some issues that I can't discuss even here.
I guess I'm also a little down today, my first pet bird, Ozzie, died yesterday. I shouldn't be too down, because he was a $15 Zebra Finch, but I have had 5 years of his comforting trumpeting. He outlived two mates, and also outlived two of his daughters that I kept. He is survived by his son, Spot, and I miss him very much. His quiet trumpeting was never the loud squawking of my Conures, but like I said, his trumpeting was comforting to me.
I wish I had a picture of him to share with you, but I don't. Bye, Ozzie.