So! There have been many things that have happened since my last journal, which is understandable, because if things hadn't happened, then I suppose I would be a very boring person, now wouldn't I? Boring folk aren't worth talking much about, so we'll skip the boring folk, of which I'm not counted in, and cut straight to the chase-- which is to say, get to the point.

(I'm doin' alright, got a healthy mind.)

Around just before August, I was told we were going to be moving. We being me and my dad, that is. Forget that "Dad and I" type structure, it only works with musicals, if you get my drift. Anywho, thankfully it was him that told me and not somebody else, because that would be awkward. Right. So we're supposed to be moving, so I start packing up my books, and I have just about all of that packed when I'm told we won't be moving for another month. So I decide, what the hell, I'll leave the boxes packed. And it's around that time I lose my camera, and I've yet to be able to find the little bastard piece of technology. So there weren't pictures to document the move or the things that happened inbetween, so for the most part I've actually forgotten a large portion of things that happened unless it involved seeing a movie or otherwise. This is bothersome, because not only can I not remember some things, I often just don't think about it.

Which is why it's no real surprise that I've begun reading the insanely witty works of Terry Pratchett, or at least his Discworld series. The man is thinking of leaving the country to get help with assisted, medical suicide. Did you know that? The metaphorical you, here referencing anyone reading this. He has such bad Alzheimer's that he wants to kill himself before he forgets who he is or how to shit. To be far, I would do the same damn thing. Therefore, I must read his works! (And may I just say, having only read one book by him prior besides his collaborative work with Neil Gaiman, the first book in the Discworld series is amazing. I'm very much behind.)

But, ironically, I've gotten off topic. So I meander around for a bit life-wise, get a job that pays and quit it because it won't pay off, and then flounder around looking for another. (Still looking for one.) Then, all of a sudden, my brain gets hit unexpectedly by something it not only didn't think was capable of hitting anything, but the least likely candidate for doing so. See, my dad, in his vast intelligence, thought to himself that he wouldn't pay the cable bill for the final month at the old apartment. After all, why should he, when he can just rig up the cable so he can still watch TV? But me, I was left without internet.

And having been through the time period beginning then lasting until now, I can truly say I'm an internet addict. Hell, I'm nearly an android. By certain definitions, anyway.

"...as technology continues to improve–even if it CAN’T replicate consciousness or self-awareness–there will come a point when you and your various technological enhancements are synonymous. When you can get Internet access literally everywhere, your virtual identity becomes just as important as your real one.
More important in fact, because your virtual identity combines your consciousness with the stored knowledge of every computer on Earth. Suddenly, being offline almost feels like being “dumb.” You’re cut off from a part of your brain that you’ve utilized from birth. Better still, a part of the brain where your name gets to be Kairhein_Von_Terrible26.
Soon enough you and your computer are basically one guy, and that guy has all the capabilities of a being of superhuman intelligence. Mathematically speaking, You + Your Computer = An Android."

That, folks, actually describes me. At least the dumb part. Without access to the internet, I feel dumb. Indeed, I had to dumb myself down to actually communicate other ways-- specifically texting. Which has driven me mad. I can't spell half as well as I could a month ago, I can't think as complexly as I could at that point (and even then I was dwindling); I can hardly keep up conversation because I'm so used to twitter-serving-size sentences that my mouth just sort of attempts speech when it has to. I haven't done any drugs, so I can't accurately make an analogy using that, but the closest thing I've got is this: I imagine it's like going from listening to somebody sing to you while taking a bath, then doing nothing but listening to the radio slightly off-station while in the shower. That's how fuzzy everything has become, how uncomfortable. And not just internet related, obviously, I mean life in general. I can hardly multitask at all, I have to ask people to go back over things-- and overall, I'm just going kind of nutty.

Not to mention, how bad the economy actually is hit me over the course of that internet-drought. Without any news feeds of the whole thing to distract me from the ACTUAL THING, y'know? My mom is in debt-- just barely, but in debt enough that I don't feel comfortable asking her for anything, and enough that she didn't even celebrate her own birthday this past week, not really anyway. Yes, I abuse commas, moving on.

My dad can barely afford groceries, but the hell if he counts because when he can he spends it on steak, shrimp and vodka. Dumbass. Point is, this leaves me driving a green '97 Mustang that I love dearly (His name is Lurch. Yep.) that has power steering problems, transmission issues, barely any gas ever, no rear view mirror, no driver's side mirror, and bad windshield wipers. If it sounds like I'm bitching and griping, it's because I am. It's incredibly stressful trying not to commit myself to the thought of spontaneous combustion: I don't have a job, nobody will hire me (believe me, I've applied everywhere within three miles save for the places that just aren't hiring), my car is going to completely break down in less than nine months (that's what happens when it has 400,000 miles on the damn thing), and on top of it all, everybody else is going crazy too.

With one very, very notable exception, whom I hope will forgive me for the following, as it's a way of reminding myself that I should not be bitching.

I have a weird history of dating girls with J names. It's not a preference, it really is random. Most of them really end up dating me as it is. But this particular girl, one whom I've mentioned all kinds of places before (as I tend to do) is named Jin. That's not her full name, but that's not relevant, now is it? What is relevant is that she is the stable little center of everything for me right now. Not because she's stable, but because she is for me. And not because she is the highest priority thing on my list, but the most important thing on the list. She's definitely not in any position to be my lean-to or my cornerstone; she's doing terribly. She hasn't been feeling well for some time, and gets very "dizzy"-- that is to say, lightheaded, at random. No real explanation, no correlation to anything she does, it just happens, and doctors are baffled as to why. But it keeps her from driving, and some days it keeps her from wanting to get up from where she is whatsoever. Admittedly the last few weeks have been nerve wracking in that regard. Her regular doctor has found nothing that I suspected it might be off with her, and so he referred her to a neurologist, where the initial MRI images show nothing out of place (as I already expected; it wouldn't be a neurological problem). So she's stuck in her own limbo, and I'm trying to make it better. Admittedly (abusing that word, yes, moving on) I am stressing myself out over it, because I can't seem to function if she's not functioning.

And she worries about it a lot. She worries that it's going to be with her forever at times, and sometimes she lets it get to her. And it is in those times where I feel most helpless, most completely at loss for what to do-- most like running away. From everything. It's not as though I couldn't; I'm very capable of getting out of everybody's hair in a way that isn't self-destructive. But I also know how stupid that is, and how much that fucks everyone else's lives up, and exactly how much I'd think about it. For reference, thought those thoughts enter my head, they were never an option. Not ever, love. Because frankly, I'm nothing without people who are less themselves without me, to put it egotistically. I can't bear the idea of being cried over, even just for being out of contact. So I hunker down, and I calm down, and I try not to go crazy. I deal with insomnia, I bitch, I bitch at myself for bitching, and some days I just feel sick and don't know why. I can't afford insurance, so I can't go to the doctor or the dentist, although I verifiably know I need to go to both--

See what I mean? I'm driving myself nuts. It's absolutely idiotic.

(You bleed, you learn. I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone...)

...so today was my grandpa's birthday, and for his birthday the boys of the family got together and had a poker game. I suck it, but I was corralled into the game anyway; why not, y'know? And the pot, what you can win, was $110. Which would've been nice; I could've fixed a good many of my car problems with that. So we play, and surprisingly, I beat out eight other people just bluffing like hell, all the while trying not to let their aggressive advice make me aggressive (you have to know when check, call, bet or fold; know when to put the chips out and when to get a job, Colton, we're not angry, we're just very disappointed I know) and somehow, somehow, I end up being right up against my Great Uncle Gary. That man is lucky as all hell. He may not have his own place, but he has his own money, for damn sure. And I'm jealous, yes, I am, because when I trudge to defeat against him, with a meager single stack of 50 chips against his hundreds, I know that no matter what I'm out of the game. And I accept that gracefully, because what else is there to do? I'm jaded about everything else, and the possibility of anything else, so this is no exception, and-- well, there I go again. And knowing that I'm in control of that impulse, the impulse to be happy or to let myself be dragged down by everything, is equally as maddening.

So if I am found to be grumpy, irritable, snippy, insulting, unfunny or untalkative, those are the reasons and/or excuses I am citing and/or using. This really did start off with the good intention of filling in the gaps, and ended up being a long-winded gale of a angsty rant that I dearly apologize for, really guys. And if you read this all the way through? I both thank you, and think that you really need better recommendations on what to read while you're online. Believe me, I can give you recommendations. XD

Yours sincerely,
Colton