Having chewed through yet another cheapie from K-Mart I rode into town on my tricycle and bought a heavy duty gaming mechanical keyboard. It throbs with an unearthly green light. So far the keys have held up to my rapid pounding and they don't feel like they're going to lose their characters after but a week of use. It seems and feels robust. Finally a keyboard that suits my typing style of furious, frenetic and a lot of backspacing.
theboy is the age I was when I got pulled out of a public school and thrust into an all boys private school—which is great for people whose bodies work swell and who are tall; it's not so good for the little, non-sporty guy. Not only did I suffer the first onset of depression I got sent to the school recommended psych for treatment who then promptly molested me during hypnotherapy. Maybe it's some sort of genetic thing in all of us but when I see a younger self, a child, headed for a period of life that was mostly pain I get angry. I get angry at the acute parental and institutional failures that pushed me down the slide of self-abnegation; that made me feel for most of my life that I had let the team down with my assigned physicality.
I look back and even with the benefit of hindsight fail to understand how any thinking, decent person would have engendered that to happen and or then fail to acknowledge their failure.
Now I get that we have the internet so we know a lot more about parenting and how to positively support a child to maximise their desire to push themselves in a direction of interest and passion. And the idea of raising a child with kindness, love and practical wisdom with avoiding the trap of domineering, self-satisfied "I know best" parenting of anger and punishment is now the norm, not an aberration. But, fuck me if I am not bitterly, furiously angry at the fucking shit my younger self went through at the same age my child is now. I weep for that child even as I know the strengths he'll draw from his adversity and that the path he went down was atheistically angelic.
At least I've learned one lesson from the past; if you don't want an angry, bullying or sneering household then don't be angry, bullying or sneering when you have one of your own.
I think there's something in that for all of us. UPDATE: Who am I to judge? I told him to fuck off and I meant it. Then stayed angry. Only I could piously intone how great I am and then void it with an angry shout.
One of the many fails of my body, and curiously right from near start of life, is my propensity for middle ear infections. Without antibiotics I'd have been dead from multiple infections as a child. I have stents in my ear drums to let out discharge from the middle ear but it's a two-way street and I have to keep water out of my ears lest it enter the middle ear then pool with intent. In then shower, when I roll my head beneath the pour, I fold over my ears to protect the canal. Today I didn't. I tilted my head and then a seeming fuckton of water poured straight into the middle ear. I yelped in agony, flailed about in the man rain and ended the experience naked on the mat with my head tilted and my finger jammed in trying to create a suction so the water would come back out when I removed the finger. It's a basic reminder that I can't risk normal activity like a normal person without taking steps to look after my un-normal self. But then without multiple exposure to near-death events I wouldn't be the savvy cat that I am—and normality is over rated. WFTW.
UPDATE: I put in ear drops in to dry out the water but I didn't read the label—it said not to if you have the stents (grommets).
It may have been the single most painful 20 seconds of my life.
I have a weird body that does unusual things; one is the production and expulsion of "lung lollies", a combo of mucus, phlegm and lung-muck that I can (and do) cough from within. Though I use a plug-in keyboard for the laptop, I hate the fiddly little keys and the weird position your wrists rest in when using the one in the machine, my lolly was expelled some distance and went deep into the crevices of my laptop's keys that lay behind the plug in. I head to tease the phlegm out with a McDonald's napkin—I keep the ones they give me for home use like this—and it's not easy when you have trembling hands from meds and injury. I can see in the ruddy glow of the heater I did not get it all—there are snail trails on the V and M keys alone where the volleys of yesterday landed from the lung fire.
It's just yet another piece of the me puzzle—disgusting oddities of balding-yet-neck-hair, missing toenails, more hair, short, bandy legs, fat, failing knees, mechanical hip and assorted other fails. And that's just physical; it's a yellow pages on the mental side. If I was a game I chose a hard setting. If this is reincarnation and I had a say all I can say is fuck you, me. But better lung lolly volleys than dead in the dirt—or ash in the armchair (1)—as they say.
Blood pressure rising My blood pressure is way up and it's because I traded laborious intensive SoTPC exercise bike riding for glorious, not-laborious outside bike riding. At least that's the only thing that's different so I am on meds and back to riding the exercise bike. I'll still get BYB time but that's pure fun, not exercise (it is; it's just my body needs more just to keep even). It is what it is; a trite expression but tight and apt. My body has to battle to stay within normal; I'm still fucking here, that's the main thing. To stay here I have to do unwanted maintenance; le sigh. Back again I read a deeply upsetting article that caused anger, hurt and angst to boil up as I fell into acute introspection. I kvetched to a friend and he said to watch something to take my mind off it. I chose the dragons' burning of the galley scene from GoT. Dragons; always there to ease the pain. Broke it < a week I got given a kewl tool which I immediately started using. Only I used it too much and I stripped the thread in the middle and ruined it. That's why I shouldn't have nice things.
Dead patch in the mint zone I had to change my outside wee spot from the side of the shed near the door because that's where the pen gate is. So I chose the wooden frame with the mint plants in it. I've killed all the mint in a clear half-circle.