shadowtricker: (Nemo dreams)
I suppose this is more or less to say that I'm still here.

Every year I absolutely dread March. Before it's even here I grow depressed, anticipating St. Patrick's, the anniversary of my brother's death, and the guilt of being depressed for Bridgielove's birthday.
I've actually been quite off since November, due to a family issue.

I'd like to just be bloody well done with it all and get on with life.
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
I suspect most of the people who read this journal read Rey's as well, and are therefore somewhat caught up on the household goings-on. Rey has been jobless for some time, Bridgie was struggling with medication changes, and got that sorted out only to lose her job as well. Since I haven't been working myself, we no longer have any steady, reliable source of income. It's an ugly situation, and one echoed loudly across the country, I suppose. I am confident that we will get by, between unemployment and tax returns and the inevitability that jobhunting will pay off, sooner or later.
I should be doing more to help.

March is always an ugly month in my own book, the time of year when I find myself truly wanting a drink again. There's an anniversary to be observed, the knotted tangles of blood relations to be prodded at, and the ever-distressing holiday wherein I am reminded that alcoholism and being Irish go hand in hand in many people's minds. Bridgie's birthday at the beginning of the month was unfortunately lackluster due to all that's been going on, and I feel badly for that.

Amidst the chaos I shall continue to practice escapism through roleplay. I'm enjoying plyaing The Shadow ([livejournal.com profile] evillurks), although the plot has stalled somewhat, again due to the chaos of our lives. I shall try to revive it.

I was reminded I've been tagged on a meme, some time back last month. I believe I'm meant to tag others, but I shan't. Anyone who wishes to do the meme may, and you're allowed to alter any questions you'd like.
Read more... )
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
For any who might have been following, or those who haven't but would be interested, we have at last posted the final chapter of the Courtney Crumrin and The Shadow story, The Demon Hound. It is admittedly a slightly goofy title, but I was going for a pulp novel feel. I wouldn't mind actually writing some fan fiction independantly, but this satisfied an urge to get him involved in some Nexus-related adventures. It was surprisingly nice to play Aloysius again, although the latest release in comics has altered the perspective somewhat. The next issue, Bridgielove tells me, will be another advanture of young Aloysius, but that's not going to be out until some time next year. I am very much content to wait. What I'm anxious for is more pulps, which is ludicrous as I now have five, which makes for ten stories. Finances aren't good enough to consider a frivolity like buying another right now. I shall have to wait until there's more money in the pool.

There's a worrisome development in my wanderings, in the vein of economics. Every day when I take my walk there seems to be another new real estate sign up somewhere in the neighbourhood. The area I cover is fairly large and I have a few different routes, but it's not so large a piece of ground that this isn't disheartening. At the very least these are frequently the larger houses, therefore costlier to keep, but most disturbing of all is the occasional sign that claims this or that house will be sold to the highest bidder on such and such a night at a certain time. I have never, in my lengthy life, seen so many people so desperate to be rid of their homes that would put them up for a one-night auction. This practice is utterly foriegn to me, and deeply distressing. It's very possible it's a move of panic on the part of the homeowners, but I've seen these signs two or three times, in very different areas and for, it seemed, different houses.
We are not doing well, certainly, but we are not in any imminent danger of losing our place to live, our heat, our electricity, nor of starving.

I can think of much, much more to say in regards to the current economy and the country, but I will keep my peace. I wish all friends and family the best, until the world turns around. In the meantime, feel free to read the bit of lovely escapism above, and do leave comments, particularly about the art. We had poor Rey slaving away at a rate of one picture per day to keep up with the posting, yet each picture is wonderfully detailed and clearly took great time and effort.
shadowtricker: (Elephants dreaming)
It's been some time since I've written, and I realized that today marks the one-month anniversary for a fairly significant reason why. I have had a great many thoughts about what happened at the university, but as I did not feel that anything I had to say would be constructive I have kept silent. While there is certainly something to be said for venting, I am also as ever aware that this journal is a public forum, and however few readers I may seem to have it is nonetheless a text that contributes to a greater whole. I do not feel that this is a place to put forth my angry rantings. I am deeply displeased with the media's handling of things, and have seen those sentiments echoed by others, let it rest at that.

That said, I will attempt to begin posting regularly once more. I simply don't have the motivation at the moment to write another interests essay, but I will go back to that project soon. I do read my friends page, although I rarely comment. I wish anyone and everyone who reads this well.

Toxicity

May. 8th, 2006 04:14 pm
shadowtricker: (storm)
I visited with Rey at work today, and a woman came in attempting to sell perfumes, to which Rey kindly and honestly replied that both the owner of the store and her daughter are extremely allergic to such things as perfumes and harsh chemical smells. There’s a large air purifier in the back, which has evidently caught the attention of a customer earlier that morning because she suffered similar sensitivities, and the exclusion of perfumes from the store was something of a selling point. I was with Rey in no small part because we just received news that the father of a good friend died, around six this morning. He had been in and out of the hospital battling leukemia for several months, and more recently, recurring pneumonia. The news seems to bother her particularly because the father of other friends she grew up with passed away from cancer roughly a year ago, and then her grandfather died this summer past. I do not know the medical history of our friends recently departed father, but the other gentleman was something of an outdoorsman, hiking and kayaking and other such things in his free time. He worked as a teacher with the disabled, did not smoke or drink. These things strike without warning, without fairness, and often without apparent reason. Rey also has a cousin who was diagnosed some years ago with autism in a severe degree, an affliction which is not simply newly discovered, but perhaps genuinely a new ailment that decades ago was unheard of in any form.
What draws all these threads of thought together is the fear that we are living in an ever-rising level of toxicity. There was a time when one could feel justified in pointing fingers, linking serious illness to obvious causes, whether the fault of the individual or not. Those days seem to have gone, the chemicals in our environment now so utterly pervasive that even if one can point down the most likely of a half-dozen toxic influences, who’s to say what’s really the cause. New disorders are popping up all the time, and while some may be simply giving names to long-existent things or even simply the creation of rampantly over-diagnosis, others are genuinely new creations of the cocktail of chemicals we come into contact with unavoidably on a daily basis. We are surrounded by chemical agents in every aspect of our lives to such a degree that they have largely become invisible. More and more we are hearing of people whose bodies have become highly sensitized in reaction, rendering them slowly more and more restricted not only within their homes, but in what they buy and bring into that limited environment. A more minor degree of such a reaction is present in even more people, who suffer migraines or nausea upon exposure to perfumes, cleaning solvents, and other chemical fumes. It’s as if a kind of reverse evolution has suddenly occurred; rather than adapting to the toxicity of our world, we have hit a point where our very bodies rebel against us in a plea to return our environment to an earlier state.
I am not an environmental activist, as I possess neither the passion nor nobility to make a grand fight for any cause. I am a likely target. Some years ago, I left my job and moved away from New York. I was very ill, not only from the rigours of stress and my own fall into alcoholism, but from simply being in that environment. My lungs are not the best, even now that it’s been well over a decade since I held a cigarette, and indeed they were at their worst at a time some years after I had quit smoking. The very air I lived in was, some days, simply too much. As someone who has both smoked and drank to excess in the past, and indeed suffered some price for both already, I am a likely candidate for cancer, or any number of other new and growing diseases. These things aren’t fair, however, and instead it will continue to strike at random, both at others who are far more blameless than myself and those who continue to willingly steep themselves in danger.
Hm. This has come out rather more morbid than I meant it to.
shadowtricker: (gold)
So there's been rather a messy argument, involving myself, Rey, and Bridgielove. To be honest, I'm still not clear on my part in it, but I do wish people would stop looking gloomy every time I speak to them. I feel a bit off for that alone, as things seem to be otherwise on the mend.
For the record, Rey, you are not the only one guilty of occasionally being selfish, and I see no fault in it. If I have been selfish in a way that left you slighted, you have my most sincere apologies. I know I've said as much, but sometimes it's nice to see things written out for the world at large.
Rey's gone and joined some community where she feels we can talk freely, and Bridgie is planning to establish a new journal to track her own moods and join up as well. If it's family therapy time, I suppose I should put myself down as well, so if the mod should happen to come look here to see who I am before giving approval to join, there you have it. We're not expecting the community to act as a therapist, but it would be pleasant to have someplace to speak with others in a similar situation.
Rey says if she ever rambles on, it's a habit learned from me. Hm. Things must be on the mend if she's back to teasing me.
shadowtricker: (sepia)
I realize it's been some time since I wrote, things have been busy, but then I shan't delude myself there's anyone hanging on what I write here anyhow. It's more for my own amusement's sake, and communication with Bridgie and Donya.
In news then, if Donya cares, Nicole has decided to take a semester off school and move to a house upstate with some friends. It's a temporary arrangement, but I hope it works out well for her.
I wish her the best. I'm bloody useless for doing much beyond that.

Conversation this evening has left me in mind of things I spend a lot of time trying to forget, and very badly in want of a drink. I've made some rooibos, even though I found the bourbon Bridgielove had hidden for me. We need to get it out of the house, only I didn't want to just throw it out because it's Rey's. Also it's rather expensive stuff and I just can't bear to see it put in the trash. We keep trying to give it away to people.
Obviously my brain is on the alcohol tonight, because I didn't mean to ramble on about it as much as I have.

Primarily what I was thinking is what an awful father I make. I adore children, truly. Yet I have proven to be a miserably absent father. I was, once upon a time, more chauvinistic than I am now, and that didn't help any. I left my offspring to be raised by their mother, and assumed I had no real place in it. Now I have a granddaughter looking to me for some kind of comfort, and it's really just a father sort of relationship all over again and I don't know what to do. I love her, but I honestly don't want to get wrapped up in her problems. I'm not meaning to be rude or cruel or callous, or selfish, even, although it is that. There are days I have enough trouble just keeping myself together... I don't know how to help anyone else. I'm still struggling with the drinking, which I thought I had more or less under control, but since this past March it's become a powerful urge again. I'd gotten complacent with myself because there really wasn't much urge o drink, except when the opportunity was shoved in my face, and that doesn't happen often. When it did, that being an occasional occurrence, it was easier to fight the impulse.
I don't trust myself.
Also my health never seems to have recovered completely from the kidney transplants, which is I realize just more reason not to drink. It's been...
I don't know, seven or eight years, and it seems my health will never return to what it was. This worries me less for myself and more for Bridgie's sake. It's not fair to her to get me in my used-up years. I had such energy and power and strength in me once. I don't feel old all the time, but I haven't felt... like that for a very long time.
And my legs have been bothering me badly. Random pain from my spine at the waist level down through both legs to my ankles, in varying degrees, in varying spots, with very little apparent correlation to my physical activity.
It worries at me, but it isn't bad enough to push me to see a doctor. I don't want to go see Ben again, it's always a game of lots of tests and then sit around to wait for results that mean more tests. Never any concrete answers, just endless tests.

Mm. And if I put the health worries aside, I'm back to bad memories. I'm thinking of 'Delia tonight, I thought she was the great love of my life until I met Bridgie. I probably wouldn't have focused on her so much were she still alive, but cut off in her prime, I mourned the tragic loss and general played angst games over her memory for ages. Then I met Bridgie, and I hadn't thought about 'Delia at all really for years. Should I feel guilty for not thinking of her? What of our children?
I thought... Was sad over the unlikelihood even, of having children with Bridgie in some form, possibly adopted. I don't think it's going to happen, ever. Tonight I'm beginning to realize I don't want children again because I'm privately terrified I'll muck it up. I'm wonderful at ruining myself, I don't want to ruin anyone else's life.

I've been working some on research for the book I want to someday write from this terrific dream. It involves airplanes so deeply, I'm hoping it will help me overcome my intense dislike for them.
It is terribly late, and we're supposed to go to Agecroft hall tomorrow. I shall finish my tea and sleep for the night. I hope I have no bad dreams, or dreams at all, even.
shadowtricker: (EDream)
Mmm... The urge to drink has, for the moment, largely passed. The incidents in London have become the topic of magazines and newspapers... it almost seems to render it more surreal than the immediate information does. After a point I don't want to listen anymore, because the world seems to get so... trivialized by the media.
I'm not making much sense, but then, there's no coffee in the house.

Mm. This from a man who once worked in journalism. Glad I got out.
shadowtricker: (sepia)
Made it through the day without a drink. Not that I don't still want one, but the urge is considerably more manageable now.
I stepped aside last night for Rey and Wendy, because a friend of theirs has a son who is vacationing in London. Rey didn't find out until evening, but they spent the rest of the evening in a methodical and fairly effective search to contact him. No news yet, but they've made a British contact who has access to more hotlines than we can from the States, and were as successful as could really be hoped for. They have confirmed he is't dead. He may be injured, but probably not critical.
I'm proud of them all.

My thanks to Mac's player, who is spreading insight into this mess on the web. To quote, just to try and spread his words:

"I wish I could say I don't understand the mentality of the terrorist, that I could call them insane or psychopathic...
But the truth is I can't, because I do understand them and they are not insane.

They are ordinary people, men, women, I don't know. They have lives not unlike ours. They love, they laugh, they cry. What drives them seems to be an anger born of desperation and frustration, the sheer cornered-rat symdrome of a small group of people faced with what they feel is a world being overrun by a way of life that by their standards is fundimentally evil. A way of life that as far as they are concerned is slowly corroding their own. A way of life we call our own.. and they fear because they don't understand it.

To be honest, I know how they feel, because it's not so very different from how many of us feel when we watch the effects of the slow destruction of our way of life by this spiral of violence and fanaticism on both sides.

And to be honest, it's not that different at times from LJ. The trolls, the flamewars etc.. they are all part of the spectrum of this 'evil' for a lack of a better word. An evil which is nothing more than basic human nature, the darker side of it anyway, common to all of us, and present to greater or lesser extent in all of us.

So, when talking about this, please remeber that the terrorists are just as much victims as the people they kill. Victims of a cycle of hatred and fanatical thought that ate them away from the inside, until all that was left was hatred.

And then don't let this hatred start in on you by seeing them as anything other than other human beings, tragic in their mistakeness, driven by a fundimental fear of the unknown."


No sleep last night, dozed a bit but I just couldn't bring myself to sleep properly. Too much dancing in the back of my head. Maybe tonight. I'm not British, I'm Irish, and I'm going to make some bloody coffee.
Without anything alcoholic in it. *sigh*

...

Jul. 7th, 2005 12:05 pm
shadowtricker: (stormy)
I am awake.

The words 'bombs' and 'London' in the same sentence tend to do it for me.

The coffee was more of an afterthought than anything else. Some Bloody idiot American reporter tried to drag the IRA into it, before there was any confirmation of anything. I would have liked to be home from work even sooner.
Everyone I know seems to be all right.

I really need a stiff drink. I've promised myself I won't drink. I'll go mad if I can't have a scotch.
shadowtricker: (stormy)
I was feeling domestic, doing laundry. It's a lovely day outside.
I got a belated father's day visit and now I feel... lost.

Happy Father's day )

Did I... mention I'm going to a Seal concert? ::Weak smile::

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