My Life Part 2: The Sequel

Boy, when it rains, it pours. Well, I wish it would rain. It's been a rainy month around here, actually, but this past week has been nothing but dry, boiling heat. I want that rain back.

But this blog isn't about rain, it's about life's tendency to suddenly go into overdrive. I feel like I've been treading water for the past month. But suddenly two things are happening at once.

First off, I got a job. It starts Monday. I'm not 100% sure it's something I want to do, but it's a lot better than some of the other jobs I applied for, and there's only so many choices around here. It looks like a good company, it has great benefits, and I don't have to do any heavy lifting.

Also, I might be getting a D&D group together. A few weeks ago I posted on a message board that I wanted to start a group, but I didn't get any bites. But today, five people suddenly responded. So we're meeting this Sunday to iron out the details.

Naturally, I'm nervous about the job. It's customer service, over the phone. It doesn't look too complicated. I'm not selling anything, I'm just answering questions. But I've barely spoken at all this month, and I know my voice is going to be hoarse by the end of my first day. On the bright side, my first week will only be four days due to the upcoming holiday.

I'm also nervous about meeting new people on Sunday. I've lived here six months and haven't made any friends. Seriously, I don't know anyone. There are no familiar faces, no neighbors I know on sight. Okay, there's one guy, but I only recognize him when he's walking his dog. Without the dog he would just be a face in the crowd. More people should get dogs so I can tell them apart.

My house has been like a prison, and it's my fault. I've always been afraid of people. But it has to be done. I can't just sequester myself from the world.

I really hope I can learn this job quickly. I really hope I hit it off with my new friends. My life is taking off in a new direction. New city, new job, new friends. I hope it's not too much at once. I hope I can handle the change. I'm going to have to be a stronger person, but I think I'm ready for it.

My brand new life starts now.

Caged Animal

Some days I just don't know what to do with myself. I had job interviews on Monday and Tuesday this week, both of which went very well. One of them really sounds like they're going to hire me once they hear back from my references.

Then I got sick for a couple of days. I think it's the weather. The rising temperatures and random thunderstorms are giving me headaches and allergy attacks.

My sleep schedule is off. I keep waking up with headaches all night, the kind that go away after I drink some water. I've been going through two water bottles a night lately. Which also means getting up for a lot of bathroom trips.

I don't feel I've accomplished enough this week, but I did get some things done that I'd been putting off, like fixing the downstairs toilet. Which reminds me, I keep seeing a weird commercial on YouTube about a procrastination drug, and the haunting jingle keeps getting stuck in my head. But I don't need drugs, I just need a job so I can go back to having a more rigid schedule.

Today I feel really good, but I don't know what I want to do about it. I thought about seeing a movie, but there's nothing I want to see. There's three must-see movies coming out in July (when I'll probably have a job limiting my schedule), but none of the movies currently playing are enough to tempt my wallet.

I should mow the lawn today, but I missed the window. I didn't even think about it until it was already too hot. Now I'll have to wait for sunset or try again tomorrow morning.

There's an anime convention this weekend in Owensboro, which is about 40 minutes from here. I like anime, but I wouldn't say I'm into anime. I've barely watched any of it since Voltron as a kid. There's also going to be video games and tabletop RPGs, though, so I'm tempted.

It's hard to get motivated when your life seems empty, but I've been trying to stick to the following rules: 

1. Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.

I can't take credit for this one, it's a meme that's been going around Facebook. Basically, for some depressed people, the idea of doing certain activities can be so ponderous that they put it off indefinitely. But if they allow themselves to do a poor job, it at least becomes do-able, which is better than not doing it at all.

2. Accomplish something every day.

Some days I give myself a to-do list, but even looking at the list feels so daunting I just want to hide under the covers. But if I tell myself I only have to do this one thing, I often find the energy for five or six things. Other times it's 9 PM and I find I still haven't accomplished anything, so I stop what I'm doing and make myself do a chore before I get too tired.

3. If you can't think of anything you want to do, do something you don't want to do.

This one has motivated me the most. Sometimes, like today, I find myself wandering around the house looking for something to do. Do I want to watch TV? No, I'm not in the mood. Do I want to play video games? No, I don't see that making me happy right now. Do I want to go out? No, I can't think of anything I'd find interesting.

If nothing sounds fun, then that's the perfect time to do a chore. I mean, you're not going to have fun anyway, right? So might as well accomplish something instead of staring at the walls. I've gotten so much done simply because nothing is giving me much joy right now.

That was more depressing than I wanted to sound. Oh well, things will get better. On Monday I meet with my lawyer to finalize some probate things, so that should give me some closure. And I expect I'll have a job by the end of the month, so that will improve my life as well.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm off to do... something. Wish me luck.

Happy Pride

Happy Pride, I guess. I'm getting more involved this year. I've entered my books in two giveaways and a book bundle. I attended a Pride festival last weekend, and will be going to another one this weekend. The local libraries are hosting LGBT movie nights, and I plan to attend as many of them as possible.

But the world is really depressing right now. I've been tuning out the news, since I'm already in mourning, but some stories are too big to ignore.

Jonathan Joss, the actor who voiced John Redcorn on King of the Hill, was killed in a hate crime. According to his husband, he was shot by a neighbor who had been shouting homophobic slurs.

Meanwhile, the government is trying to make porn illegal, while simultaneously trying to reclassify anything pro-transgender as porn. Which means all my books could conceivably be declared illegal. Will this pass? Who knows. I'd like to think Amazon, being a huge powerful company, would fight back. After all, they'd lose revenue too if that many books had to be delisted at once.

So when I keep saying, "get them while they're still legal," this is what I mean. If you want to support my work, links to my books are here:

https://books2read.com/ap/8N19Lr/Xine-Fury

The above links will take you to the Kindle store, as well as Smashwords, Nook, and several other e-book retailers. If you prefer a physical copy, you can order them from IngramSpark using these links:

https://xinefury-bloodhunters.blogspot.com/2025/05/paperbacks-by-xine-fury.html

Note, even though the paperbacks are more expensive, I don't personally get more more money from them, so don't let that be a factor in which books you buy, if any.

Dream: Job Hunting

Last night I dreamed I was filling out an online application for a job. The form asked a lot of odd questions you wouldn't normally see on an an application, such as, "Have you ever ridden a giraffe?" But some of the questions were instructions, like a scavenger hunt. For example, at one point it asked me to drive to the grocery store and buy a gallon of milk, then come back home and go to the next question.

I got the job, which involved explaining to ghosts that they were dead. They gave me a deck of cards with words like YES and NO as well as a bunch of common nouns and verbs. I would spread the cards out on the table and the ghosts would point to them, since they couldn't talk. My first ghost client looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger. He'd died a few days earlier, but had been wandering around the house and going about his normal routine, unaware he'd died.

I know that social services aspect sounds a lot like Beetlejuice, but the vibe was more bureaucratic, like Dead Like Me. There was nothing Tim Burtony about the dream. I sat down with Arnold and started talking to him, unsure exactly how to break it to him. Then I started choking on a piece of gum and woke up.

Anyway, I'm probably just nervous because I have a job interview Monday morning. Wish me luck.

Aimless

I remembered to pick up cat food this morning. Then I spent about an hour on lawn care. I showered, did laundry, and worked a little more on decorating the house. I didn't put in a full day's work, but at least I didn't waste the day.

In some ways, I now have the life I've dreamed of for years. I have less debt than I've had in thirty years. I have a big house full of cool toys. I'm a (self) published author, with eight books on the kindle store, and who cares if they sell. Younger me would be looking at older me in awe.

So why am I wandering aimlessly around the house, not sure what I want to do next, unable to focus on anything, and occasionally breaking down in tears?

That's a rhetorical question, of course. We both know why. The real question is, "Why did I finally get the life I wanted, only for fate to betray me?" I mean, this is some Twilight Zone bullshit.

She did not deserve to die. I'm no fool; I know fate is unkind. As much as we love to believe in karma, the truth is that this is an unfair world. It rains on the just and the unjust. You can deluge me with feel-good stories of fate rewarding good behavior, or jerks getting what they deserve, but that's just cherry-picking data. Most of the time, fate is random.

Supposedly, the seven stages of grief are: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance. I could not tell you which I'm in right now, and I've randomly experienced at least three of them every day this month. Every day it's a different grief sampler.

But most of the time I just feel numb. I don't have the emotional energy to write, and video games don't bring me the joy they used to. I still spend a lot of time watching YouTube, more staring at it than actually watching. KJ might have passed away, but it feels like I'm the one haunting the house.

Same Planet, Different Worlds

My gaming room is really coming along nicely. I can't wait to show it off to... someone. I still don't know a single person in this town. I'm not even sure how to meet them. I suppose I'll start meeting people once I get a gaming group together. Which I'll do once I get a job, so I'll know what my days off will be.

I'm finally starting to get enthusiastic about the job search again. I still don't want help finding a job. What some people consider "help" is a lot more like pressure. But I'm finally reaching the point where I crave some manner of routine, so I have less time to wallow in self-pity.

I ran a lot of errands today. Post office, donation center, used media store, restaurant, gas, etc. The cats are mad at me because I forgot to pick up cat food, but I'll do that first thing in the morning.

I also moved some furniture up and down the stairs. I very nearly injured myself, but those are the risks of living alone. I still have a lot more I want to do, but there are some things that have to wait for a second human. And there are some things I just can't bring myself to do yet.

Every once in a while it hits me that KJ doesn't exist anymore. I mean, that specter is always hanging overhead, but now and then the fact just pops up, like some absurd bit of trivia. It sounds ridiculous on the face of it. I'd sooner believe that the moon had exploded. A world without KJ? That doesn't even make sense. How can you have a world without KJ?

There are still some things around the house I'm reluctant to change, "in case she comes back." No, I can't give away the teddy bears, she'll want them someday. No, I can't move the furniture around, she wouldn't like that configuration. On some level I've convinced myself that this is a temporary situation.

I truly don't know how to live for myself.

I keep thinking about KJ's stepfather, who I will refer to as "DM." And I will refer to KJ's mother as "SM." KJ and DM had a falling out a few years ago, right after SM died. DM cheated on SM, and SM's dying wish was, "Don't let him give my favorite jewelry to his mistress." So a few weeks after SM's death, KJ asked DM if she could come by and look for a specific piece of jewelry.

DM went ballistic. He told KJ that she couldn't have any jewelry, and that she wasn't welcome to stop by anymore unless she was invited. KJ retaliated by calling him out publicly on Facebook, exposing that he'd cheated on SM. DM denied it (note, he actually has a son with the other woman), and most of KJ's family sided with DM.

DM counter-accused KJ of not visiting SM in the hospital. Which, first of all, is a lie. I know she went at least twice, because I had to sit in the car each time (Covid protocols only allowed one visitor). She did cancel her final visit because the nurses told her not to bother, that SM was too far gone to know anyone was there. And KJ couldn't emotionally handle seeing SM in that state. So DM told everyone that KJ didn't love her mother.

Anyway, in all the time I've known DM, he never appeared to like SM. I never saw them act friendly with each other, I never saw any sort of chemistry between them, and it always looked more like a business relationship than anything. They went through the motions because "that's the way it's done."

A note about SM. She was an amazing woman. Smart and energetic. When I first met KJ, SM had been diagnosed with six months to live. We always joked that she was too stubborn to die. She had persistent health problems for the next twenty-something years, and finally died during Covid (but not of Covid). But I never saw her lose a bit of energy.

So from my point of view, when SM died, DM finally got what he'd always wanted. He no longer had this strong-willed woman holding him back, fighting with him, telling him what he could and couldn't do. He no longer had to take this woman to the hospital, forcing him to pay large medical bills. He now has the freedom to date who he wants, and he can spend all his free time working on cars and flying remote control airplanes.

I just keep seeing parallels. We both had been forced into a caregiver position, for a spouse who was in failing health. Now we both live alone in houses too big for a single person. We're even both unemployed right now (since he's retired), so we have plenty of time to be alone with our thoughts, to reflect on our memories of our respective spouses.

But it's also so, so different. I mean, I could be 100% wrong here. DM was a difficult man to get to know, so maybe I've misjudged him. I've disliked him for a very long time. When I first met KJ, she told me DM was acting creepy towards her, and she suspected him of looking at her in a sexual way. One of the reasons we first moved in together was to get her out of that house.

So even if I give DM the most charitable benefit of the doubt in history, he's still a disgusting human being. I simply can't imagine that he mourned SM the same way I'm mourning KJ. I just don't see it in him.

I could be totally wrong about him. KJ might have been totally wrong about him. I'm just glad I'll never have to see him again.

Another Week Gone

The cliche is, "How can I do this without her?"

The reality is, "Without her, why am I doing this at all?"

For the past 18 years, whenever I was super stressed, I found quietly myself chanting, "I want to go home." I'd say this despite being inside my house. Because I knew, despite being a homeowner, that the cramped house I lived in wasn't really "home."

But once I moved here in January, I retired that particular mantra. I finally lived somewhere that felt like home. There were stresses, sure, but at no point did I find myself thinking, "I want to go home." I was where I belonged.

It's been five weeks since my wife passed away. My mom stayed up here for a month, and she was a great help. But I feel like having her here was keeping me from fully facing my grief. I was a little too comfortable with her sitting in KJ's old chair, making beads in the same place that KJ spent all her time crocheting. If I didn't look up from my laptop, it felt like KJ was still in the room.

The past week has been an emotional rollercoaster. I've had two job interviews, and I've spent a ton of time going up and down my stairs, setting up a gaming room in the basement. I've gotten more exercise in five days than I got the entire time mom was here, and that includes the day we went to the zoo.

But I've also crashed more. With higher highs come lower lows. I've spent hours watching absolute crap on YouTube, giving my eyes some candy so I wouldn't just find myself staring at a blank TV screen. I talk out loud a lot. To the cats, to myself, and to KJ.

I ate a 10-count box of Twinkies in three days. Here, let's go on a Twinkie tangent. I bought the Twinkies on a whim while browsing the grocery store. I'd been tempted for years. It's one of those things I try every decade or so. People are like, "They're not as good as you remember," and they're not wrong. That could be the product's slogan, really. "Twinkies. They're Not As Good As You Remember."

KJ and I used to eat pound cake and Cool Whip as desert back in the old days. What are Twinkies, if not pound cake and whipped cream in a convenient, hot-dog-esque form? I mean, sure, it's not really pound cake, but overly-processed sponge cake, but it's not that different. And the filling isn't whipped cream so much as... well, it's probably not wise to question the secret formula.

But it's the kind of thing that comes around again. When you're a kid and you eat a Twinkie, you think, "Mmm... creamy filling!" Then you try them again in your twenties or thirties, and you think, "There's hardly any creamy filling, did I really like this?" Then you try them again in your fifties, and you're like, "Mmm... pound cake!"

But that particular itch has been scratched. I'll try Twinkies again when I'm in my sixties. Twinkie tangent terminated.

I've been eating healthy food, too. Some of my former coworkers from Nashville sent me condolence cards with small presents (gift cards and some windchimes). A couple of them got together and sent me a bunch of frozen dinners from one of those dinner-by-mail services. They're pretty good, but my stomach doesn't always like them. They have a lot more veggies than meat, and most of them include cruciferous vegetables like broccoli. I don't hate broccoli, but my stomach isn't fond of it.

Still, it's saved me a lot of money, because I'm so depressed I can't seem to talk myself into leaving the house. I've only left twice this week, to go to those job interviews. It's also the only times I've showered. I did manage to talk myself into seeing a movie after the first job interview, so there's that.

Each day I think about getting out and doing something. I give myself a mental carrot-on-a-stick. "If you go to the grocery store, you can have your favorite fast food as a reward. Or you can go to a sit-down restaurant and get a piece of cheesecake. Or maybe you could go get Chinese!" Or whatever I think will motivate me that day.

But I don't. I mean, it's not like I'm too far gone. I did manage to go to the job interviews, and I decorated my basement, which took a lot of energy. But I also keep zoning out, bursting into tears, and talking to thin air. 

And I'm back to thinking, "I want to go home." Because a house isn't just a home when it's finally big enough to fit your stuff. A home is where your love lives, and mine has gone away.

Please don't worry about me. I'm not typing any of this to get sympathy points, I just want to get these thoughts off my chest. I'm not going to hurt myself, and I'm not going to wallow in despair. I fully intend to keep living in this beautiful house, and I will find the motivation to keep up with the housework and the job searches.

Everything takes twice as much energy as it used to. I am bone tired, and not because I took 100 trips up and down the stairs this week. Grief is exhausting. But I will come out on the other side, hopefully as a stronger person.