Archive for August, 2011

Hey, hey, an update. Yay?

Posted in Uncategorized on August 11, 2011 by synabetic

Life, as per usual, has a way of taking up way too much of my time. Sadly, I seem to have neglected updating this blog-thing o’ mine. Oh, sure, I thought about throwing an update or new Depressalin chapter up over the last month, but sometimes I simply didn’t have the time; and there were other times where I wanted to, but I was perhaps a bit too angry to say anything other than a 14,000 word essay about how I wanted to destroy everything, everyone and maybe even every imaginary unicorn with a hammer.

Look, while I don’t mind throwing myself out there with my thoughts and feelings for everyone to see, Anger-Posting is really, really counter-productive. It usually makes things worse, I’ve found.

I’ve also just thought about posting blog entries with observations and such, and not posting chapters until I feel they’re more ready for public consumption. Things can change rapidly in one’s life, and I am no exception. One of these things involves an ex-girlfriend and another involves me somehow managing to get along better with my ex-wife. It sure doesn’t change the past, but it is truly nice to see her make an effort. While I won’t go back and re-write history, there are certainly parts that need a softer brush… uh, so to speak. As for the ex-girlfriend, things with her quickly devolved into madness and hateful shit-talking. I tried to keep my end to a minimum, not fully understanding what I was getting into. This is someone I’ve never swore at, raised my voice to, or really said anything all that bad about… And though I haven’t yelled at her yet, I have found myself engaging in the shit-talking. That has to stop, like right fucking now. I put the ex-wife through a verbal ringer and afterwards I promised myself I wouldn’t do it ever again. Or try really, really hard not to be like that again, at the very least. While I’m less angry and no longer “high on wheat”, I still have my limits. Just because I discovered I have this bizarre allergy that made me feel like shit all the time in an unhappy marriage and learned to deal with it doesn’t mean I’m going to be a push-over nice guy, accepting as many balls-kickings as possible. Oh, no. That’s so not me. I’m a mean sonovabitch deep down inside… And I don’t mind engaging in verbal combat.

I’m not a ninja in that department…

I’m a goddamned nuclear bomb.

Still, being a dick to an ex just because she wants to think I’m the world’s biggest asshole doesn’t justify ICBM-laden rants and red-faced cock-fuckery. This is the part where I say “I’m bigger than that” and/or “I’m taking the high road”.

No.

Fuck that.

The high road is for chumps and victims (or victims-in-waiting). No one gives a shit, especially where good drama is involved. Nope, I’m still a dick for denying people their needed soap opera, which in turn allows for me to not feel like… well, like a fucking chump.

Knowing that I’m being a dick this way makes me feel a lot better.

So, yeah, things with the ex-girlfriend deteriorated. In a nutshell, she took issue with me saying she had issues (don’t we all?) in a previous post which was meant to be nice and not troublesome at all. In fact, some folks told me it was a very nice post… but that doesn’t matter. What matters is she freaked out about it, digging the (what I see as) the Imaginary Steve Is The Worst Thing Since Genocide hole even deeper. Sure, we talked. It only took two months to get to that point. And I thought we’d come to a kind of an accord. But no. We didn’t. And when it came time to need to talk again, things became even worse before the talking started. So the talking never happened. It just became a hate-train from there.

Now, there’s a whole bunch of other crap I could say. It would all be factual and true, but it would also be hurtful. I suppose this is the problem with knowing someone so well, knowing all about them and knowing some of their horrible secrets. Should I say something? No, of course not. That should be left private. But, goddammit, after taking a shitload of uncalled-for verbal battery and insults, it sure is tempting to unleash those hate-weasels and just let the fuck-you-cards fall where they may. It would be like kicking a bunch of sad puppies, and that’s why I stop myself. I doesn’t matter how much those puppies annoy the ever living fuck out of me, I ain’t kicking them.

Hopefully things will simmer down with extended shut-out time. As always: We’ll see. I’m not a fucking punching bag, either, put on the Earth so someone can work out their personal issues regarding whatever it is they’re upset about. So, there’s that, too. Why can’t people who were best friends just get along? Is it that fucking hard? What am I missing here? Is it Science? Do I need more Science or something? I just don’t fucking know.

What I do know is this: My girlfriend now is an amazing communicator with the patience of a saint. Dating a depressed writer with upseting things on the menu frequently can’t be easy for anyone… and for that I salute her.

Here’s to hoping I can update a little more frequently now.

Until next time: Cheers, you magnificent bastards, you.

 

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