Bang Bang Bang

I don't like guns. I'm not a "guns should be banned" kind of person (though I do think some laws need to be changed or at least enforced), but guns aren't for me. 

I think a lot of people have a power fantasy. Guns give you the ultimate power over life and death. You can use them to save lives or to end them. I don't want power. I don't want that kind of responsibility. I don't want the ability to decide who lives or dies. I just don't want to be that important.

But I do see the logic of owning a gun for emergencies. I don't have one yet, but I might get one soon. So when my work offered a free gun course, I signed up.

Yesterday I fired a gun for the first time in my life. We spent a full day of learning first, watching powerpoint presentations and videos, practicing with fake ammo, and taking a written test. After about 7 hours in the classroom, we went to the firing range.

I was so nervous. I hated holding such a powerful device in my hand. I'm such a clumsy person. With the way the room was set up, the chances of me accidentally shooting a classmate were pretty slim, which made me feel a little better. But I'm such a butterfingers, anything is possible.

Plus I've had a really bad year. I was never actively suicidal, but intrusive thoughts do happen. If I'd owned a gun during the past year, I might not be here now. I wasn't looking for ways to hurt myself, but at my lowest points, I could have seen it as an easy way out.

Things are better now. I've healed a lot. But it still feels "weird" holding a device in my hand that could end all my grief. A split second decision is all it would take. Don't worry, I would never actually do that. And once I was on the range, I was more concerned with keeping all my fingers and thumbs in the right place to entertain those thoughts.

Anyway, I did pretty well. I had the most accurate score in my class, though there only three of us. Beginner's luck? Maybe it was a childhood of playing video games. Or maybe it was just the toy guns I had as a kid - they were more realistic back in those days, and I remember I used to practice lining up the front and back sights.

 

My Target

I wish everyone had to take a class like this to get a gun. There are too many irresponsible gun owners out there, and they make all gun owners look bad. I'm not going to get preachy about it today, but overall there are a lot of things that need to change.

Bottom line? I can see the appeal, but I'm still not a gun person. If I get one, it will be kept in a safe, only removed if I hear someone breaking into my house. But I don't plan to take it to the range for fun. It's just not my cup of tea.

Cruel But Wonderful Dreams

It's been a year and four months since my wife passed away. In the past couple of months, I've been having more and more dreams about her. These dreams are way more vivid than my usual dreams. When I talk to her in my dreams, she feels way more real than other people I dream about. The average characters in my dreams are practically cartoon characters compared to when I dream about KJ.

I had a wonderful dream last night. KJ showed up at my door. I asked her how she could be there, and she said, "Tell ya later, let's go out." It was a very long dream. I don't remember what all we did, but we talked a lot and went to some of our favorite places.

The main thing is, it just felt so real. Every word she said sounded like something she'd say, not something my mind would have written for her. I don't believe in the supernatural, but it's hard not to imagine she was trying to contact me from the other side.

I do a lot of lucid dreaming, or at least semi-lucid. Near the end of the dream, I realized I was starting to wake up. I told her I had to go away for a minute, and asked her to please be here when I got back. She promised she would stay, then I woke up to a world without her.

I felt shaky all morning. It was a beautiful dream, but the aftermath was devastating. I nearly cried at work several times. It was a hectic day at work, which actually helped a little, because it gave me something else to concentrate on.

But seriously, brain, why do you have to be so cruel?

One Year Later

Today is the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life. During the past year I've held four jobs, none of which I've kept. I've spent most of the year hiding from the world, wallowing in self pity, unable to find happiness. I haven't written any books, nor have I kept up with any of my other hobbies.

But tomorrow starts a new year, at least from my perspective. I'm going to make the most of it. I have some job interviews next week, and once that part of my life is back on track, I believe everything else will fall into place.

Wish me luck. 

Wish Me Luck

So, I finally got a job, it starts tomorrow morning. 

It all happened pretty fast. I'm subscribed to several job sites. On Tuesday morning I checked my email and applied to three jobs they suggested. An hour later I got a phone call from one of them, asking me to come in for an interview, which happened an hour after the call. They liked me at the interview, and asked me if I could start Thursday.

It's for the front desk at an apartment complex, where I will collect rent checks and help new tenants sign paperwork. The pay is decent for the area and benefits are included. My only gripe so far is the commute - it's not far, but there's lots of construction.

Anyway, wish me luck. It sounds like a great job; I'll let you know how it goes.

Happy Halloween.

As of October 18th, it's been six months. The past couple of weeks I've been more despondent than usual, and it took me until today to realize why. You know how some people get extra depressed around the holidays? Well, Halloween was our Christmas.

It was our favorite time of year. Sometimes we'd give out candy, other times we'd just turn out the lights and watch scary movies all night. Several times we spent weeks putting together matching costumes on a dollar store budget.

So today is rock bottom for me. The good news is, once I make it through my first Halloween without her, things can only go up from here.

My status hasn't changed much. I'm currently unemployed, and I get very little human contact. Sometimes I'm productive, but sometimes I waste the entire day sitting on the couch, watching YouTube. Often times I don't even have the emotional energy to do something fun.

Seriously. I can't even be bothered to do something I want to do. I'll be watching YouTube and think, "I'd really like to play a video game right now." But I always talk myself out of it. Part of it is I feel guilty playing games while I should be job hunting. Part of it is knowing that the game won't be as fun as it used to be, back when I was happier overall.

But most of it is simply spoon theory. A lot of people don't realize that it takes just as much emotional energy to do fun things as it takes to do work. Especially when you're suffering from depression.

Positive things. Today I watched the movie "Weapons," and it was very good. This Sunday I have a gaming session, which I'm looking forward to. I've been working with a guy at a job placement service, so I might find employment pretty soon. And even if I don't, I still have enough money in the bank to cover me for a while.

So overall, I'm going to be okay. I've been in a bit of slump for the past couple of weeks, but I think things are going to improve soon.

Unemployed Again

Short and sweet: 

The new job didn't work out. It was just too complicated for my grieving, 52-year-old brain. Plus it involved interacting with emergency services, which gives me PTSD for the night I had to call 911 for my wife.

I have several applications out there, and an interview on Tuesday. Don't worry about me, I have plenty of money to live on for a while.

In other news, I'm wearing glasses again, 20 years after getting Lasik. Once I have a steady job, maybe I'll save up for Lasik again.

 

I'd Rather Be Writing

I'm starting a new job on Sunday. I'm kind of disappointed in myself because I just can't work up the energy to do much. I went to see a movie today, just to get out of the house. Yesterday I played lots of video games, which, believe it or not, is actually progress. It's better than watching YouTube all day, anyway.

Still, I wish I was writing. I haven't properly written since I moved here. There's always an excuse. January through April, I couldn't write because I felt guilty for not having a job yet. April through June, I was grieving. July through August, my new job was taking too much energy out of me.

But I quit that job when I got hired for this new one, and I had a full week off in between. I wanted to write, but I'm too nervous about my new job. Once I start the new job, I'll still find reasons not to write.

The truth is, I was very lucky with my old job, the one I had before I moved. I was fortunate enough to have a job that had a lot of downtime. I wrote most of my books while at work. It's when my brain is most alert, and I have the right combination of chemicals floating around for productivity. Unfortunately my new job isn't going to give me any time for writing.

Maybe if I put aside specific writing hours on my days off, even going as far as to wear work clothes, I could get past my mental blocks and actually write something. I do have ideas. There's all sorts of stories floating around my brain, waiting to be written down.

I'm getting lonely. My D&D group isn't going to meet again for a while, because my new job will have me working most weekends. Maybe I'll make some friends at my new job, though I know I'll only be working with one person most of the time.

This house is too big and empty without KJ. I keep thinking about getting a roommate, and not just for the extra money. I'm on a message board for local LGBT+ people, and sometimes people post about needing a place to stay. Usually it's transgender young adults still living with their abusive parents. I'm always tempted to offer them a room.

But I doubt I ever will. First off, it feels skeevy somehow, as a 52-year-old, to offer a room to people in their 20s. I'd be doing it with the best of intentions, but I'm afraid someone would accuse me of being a sexual deviant. Secondly, I'm afraid of someone disappearing in the middle of the night with some of my stuff. But most of all, I just have a general fear of... whadoyoucallem... human beings.

I don't know. I love this house, but I'd love it more if I could share it.