Dear 2015 (An Open Letter)

Fuck You.  I’ve hated you most of the time, most of the year now, and its already October.  There were moments of fun, a few good surprises, but by and large it’s been a very difficult year fraught with emotional batshittrification, from me first, my children second, and my wife third.  At least the extended family only added the regular scheduled doses of batshittery, which were at least mostly manageable. It did require more time investment on my part than I thought I could contribute, but contributions were made. But the family…  My wife, in a moment of brilliance, suggested that we start a saying and actions around the house:  “Sounds like somebody needs a hug,” followed by giving that person a hug.  But then in an extended “moment” or season of normalcy, the suggestion was promptly forgotten and although I need a hug and more from her, I might get that hug if I am pushy and demanding enough.  But frankly I’m afraid to push my luck (or anything else) for anything else further.

Oh, 2015.  Only some of the high hopes we held out for you in 1985, back in time going Back to the Future, came true for the wealthy.  Some people have hoverboards.  Some people have flat-screen TVs.  Some people even skype or whatever.  I’m ready for 2016 to kick 2015’s ass.  For me.  My car, rather than

flying today, blew up yesterday and I think the water pump will need to be replaced, along with whatever the mechanic needs to pay his kids’ way through college.  Smoke from under the hood smelled like coolant.  So where’s my damned flying car that runs on trash, and isn’t janky, 2015?

Taking the good with the bad, my son and daughter have had some success, which is great.  And I was given several opportunities via open side-doors because I couldn’t afford to properly buy my way in, or out, through the front doors like everyone else did.  So thanks.  And I was given a laptop, second-hand.  It apparently needs a new mouse because the cursor likes to jump all over at random for no reason, and it needs a new keyboard, and it needs a new printer, but hey. It’s a laptop which is what I asked for.

Stole this from Pinterest, a “laptop” way cooler and probably more functional than mine:  

I think some of today’s writing is also adversely affected because I’m still getting over these stupid chest-and-head-typhoon-slash-tidal-waves.  It’s a typhoon because it’s very drainy, it’s a tidal wave because the sneezes and coughing carry chunks of lung out with every onslaught.  Taking the good with the bad, I have wicked awesome chicken soup with great broth.  And the above, for its’ comic relief moments, was a fucking hilarious movie

I had a 4 month deeply depressed cycle right through the summer, with small ups to give me tiny glimmers of hope through the blackness.  Yeah, in the image below, my mood is kind of the ghost image under the regularly scheduled wave.  Trying to

climb.  It’s somewhat lighter but I don’t feel quite “up” yet.  I can say it’s lighter because looking back and seeing where I sit now, it could have been a lot worse.  I didn’t become an internet meme, and I didn’t make it onto the morning news.

Seriously, though, is there anything more depressing than the morning news, other than the evening news?  They wake me up with “Good Morning!  The world is sinking straight to hell in a lovely basket of completely fucked up shit with no hope of ever getting out.  Have a nice day!”  Perky mindfucknumbing bullshittery, with a stationary batshittrified weather front lingering in the atmosphere.  Ass holes do fucked up things to other people, and fucked up things happen to random people.  I have to start the day with murders, house fires, robbers, drug dealers, gangs, rapes, auto accidents and fucking road construction, and you’re going to report all that shit to me first thing in the morning and then tell me to “have a great day.” FUUuuUUUuuuuUUUUCK YOU, TOO, news media fuckers.

I don’t think any of them realize how demoralizing, discouraging, depressing their reports are.  Because they’re fucking perky, I want to duct tape their mouths shut and turn on some Mozart.

On the plus side, I had some kick-ass coffee first thing today and my wife was forced to drive me to work, which meant we got to spend some time together and she was nice.  I think she was surprised that despite the car episode, I was able to remain relatively calm, after I had my stress-induced asthma attack and got over it.

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