Note: this may turn into one of my free association posts because I’m feeling a little mentally scattered, yet, have the need to jot thoughts down.
Wow! Twenty-twenty-one is over. I’m feeling cautiously optimistic. Unfortunately, I’m dragging some big issues with me into 2022. Namely, that damn accident fallout. In four days it will be five months since I could have lost my life, did lose my car, and my income.
I’m glad I still have my life because I plan on going down screaming for aid for all the underdogs out there.
Physical, and or, occupational therapy that was estimated to be done by mid-October still hasn’t been completed. I was to receive a total of 30 therapy sessions. So far, I’ve had 20. Yes, my tendons still know it. They remind me pretty often that they are not done healing. it makes me have to drag out physical, household chores. But, hey, Vickie (new roommate who has been a shot in the arm), has enabled me to do more household work than the other roommate, who does none. Yeah, Vickie is having her own orthopedic and health issues, but she does more household chores than I do.
It’s infuriating: the medical and domestic issues. Vickie’s ray of light has been inspiring and she’s given me some psychological energy to get my house in order. I’m so grateful for that.
I want to be completely physically healed. I want to be free of worry about damaging my right arm while exercising or working. Yet, I feel that having to beg for more therapy from the third party administrator and my new treatment entity, Complete Care, is really only pulling me down. I feel as if, “Complete Care,” is neither a noun or verb phrase. It’s more like another capitalist joke on poor people who can’t afford to just pay for all medical care out of pocket. The extremely wealthy don’t have to worry. One million bucks for emergency, orthopedic, and physical therapy care? No problem. Here’s my debit card. Yes, debit, not credit. Debit means the money is actually in the account.
I’m so over those people: the greedy rich. I guess the good thing is that there are fewer and fewer of them because, what’s the number now?, the top ten most wealthiest people on the globe own 99.9999999% of the money and stuff in the world.
We outnumber them; we could kick their asses.
It actually could come to that. Can you say, “French Revolution?”
So, this post is going places I didn’t know it needed to go. Sometimes my mind is like a well-crafted fictitious character who does not do what the author wants it to do. I have whole arguments with some of my fictitious people. They usually win. Sigh.
Yeah, I’m optimistic BECAUSE it’s not 2021 anymore, even though I’m going to turn 61 in a month and a half. My mind and spirit still think I’m 30. Those two must be Pisceans. I know my Mercury is in Pisces. Mercury rules the intellect. So, there you go.
This is what weather around me is doing today:
This is what it’s doing in Portland:
Where would I rather be? Portland. Cold weather energizes me. Heat sucks the life out of me. Maybe I’m the opposite of a reptile.
More fluffy white clouds and blue Florida sky.
Speaking of climate contrasts: it’s the first of January, at 4:30, in the afternoon, and an ice cream truck just rolled down my street. After it passed a guy in shorts and flip flops, and carrying a can of beer crossed the street.
It kind of blows my mind. That didn’t happen during Winter in Tampa Bay at all between 1966 and 1991.
I’ve been sitting out here for a few hours in total. I’ve been writing this for over an hour. But, I have all the drugs I need.
Vickie just got home from her soul sucking shift at Walmart. When SHE says she had jerks, there were jerks aplenty, because that woman has one of the most positive attitudes of anyone I know. Positive, but not a pushover; the best kind.
I don’t miss working there. I do miss some of my former co-workers and one or two managers. There are a few regular customers I miss too.
Earlier I had Bo Bo, the Wonder Dog, outside with me. He’s such a sweet, cute little stealth pisser. Since August, I’ve heard him bark once.
As far as resolutions go: plbbpp. I don’t believe in them. Life can restart anytime, but I do have plans. I am going to get an at home job. I hope it will be a blog from home job. Seriously, I need to get out of this abode-which I am grateful is better than a cardboard box under the I-4 overpass. However, I deserve better. The lease technically expired yesterday. We didn’t get a rent increase notice and I think our lease ending has gone undetected. This, “complex,” is rather loosely run. Every week there is at least one midnight move out. I’m crossing my fingers because that means we can legally get of here whenever we have the cash. Whatever deposit was put down, was with Princess Clueless’s money, and I really don’t care if she gets it back, and I don’t know for sure where she lives. I want to keep it that way. I think management would want us to stay as we cause zero trouble and always pay on time.
Improving my job situation and housing and my health will be my main focuses this year. I’m so not even thinking about romantic connections. I still can’t believe a man I so trusted and respected was so confused he couldn’t talk to me and explain his over the top flirtations. I know he wasn’t deliberately being an asshole. I think he’s confused and unhappy (not with his career) and is so close to the issues he can’t see the forest for the trees. And…. My intuition tells me it really ain’t over. I just hope, faintly, that one day he can come to me and explain what the fuck that was all about.
This year is going to be all about loose planning combined with going with the flow.
Last year, January 1st sucked giant silverback gorilla balls, and I used a photo of clover blossoms in my front yard to illustrate that my day was the opposite of pretty purple flowers.
I hope this year they have a different meaning.