Peaked at 17

Groupthink, I Has It.

I’m always 2 to 3 weeks behind on these national controversies.  Today is the day I took notice of this immensely, epic Starbucks cup debate.  I saw a segment about it on CNN this morning; it detailed how the Starbucks holiday cup changed over the last 6 years.  

Six years ago, the cup garishly depicted that Norman Rockwell-esque-ideal-Christmas-fantasy that many of us were programmed to crave.  Each year after that, the cup became less ‘Christmassy’ (and admittedly, far more tasteful).  This year, we have the Vladmir Putin-esque receptacle you see above.

I was outraged.  Flabbergasted. Beside myself.

How dare Starbucks take a shit on my Christmas holiday?  Who the fuck do they think they are?  I was not going to take this insult laying down.  I was going to go to Home Depot and buy every gallon of kerosene they had.  Then I was going to burn down all of the Starbucks.  

I figured I was entitled.

While waiting in line at Home Depot, a thought occurred to me.  Why do I care about the design of some food service cup?  Is it really hindering me from enjoying Christmas?  I don’t even like Starbucks coffee.  I think it tastes like a mixture of mud and piss, and not the good tasting piss.

I then realized that I was simply a sheep.  I was bleating along with the rest of the mentally disabled sheep about some irrelevant occurrence that has no meaning or significance to my life.

My shame drove me to kill myself.  Now I’m dead.

This is the face of a person who is breaking out of Helpdesk Hell.  Does it look happy?  Not really.

I haven’t hated a job this much since I was washing moldy ice cream out of goblets at Friendlys.  I’ve got to get through this day and 5 days next week, then I’m out.

The new job is awesome and pays a ton more than what I’m scratching out now.  It’s far better than I probably deserve.  I’m sure that I’m going to end up getting hit by a car next week and never actually start the job.

Or I may just die of anticipation and frustration in my crappy little cubicle before I truly escape.

Sweet baby Jesus, our source of all that is wholly and divine...

...from this moment forward, please smite any person that uses the term ‘Cultural Appropriation’.  If you feel smiting is too harsh, would you please just fill their mouths with feces? 

The only thing more spirit-crushing than facing my own mortality is having to accept that one day my children will die.

A couple of times a month, I take my boys to a park called Annie’s Playground.  It is the most beautiful park you’ll find, free or paid.  Sadly, it’s born of tragedy and pain; you can find its story at http://www.anniesplayground.net/.  It is definitely a must see and read.

I have strange conflicted feelings every time I gaze into the tiny valley that holds this magic little place.  I try to comprehend the immense amount of love and strength that must have been needed to overcome the anguish and loss of a young child.  Not only did the family overcome it, they grew a tiny piece of Heaven in her name that has continued to flourish.

And so it begins… again.

I went off my meds about 2 weeks ago.  I used the always-healthy cold-turkey approach.  Rest assured, I consulted no medical professionals before making that decision.

I had been on my meds for a good piece, but circumstances dictated that I could no longer afford them.  Depsite the coping assistance they absolutely provided, I won’t miss them.

For the first week, I walked around feeling stoned.  Much of that time, I felt like I had no feet, but yet could somehow walk.  It was like walking on my knees if I were Dolph Lundgren, my long-time spirit guide.

I’m now starting to feel normal again, except much more sensitive.  I feel strong and connected to what is around me, but I’ve been down this road before.  I know, though, it’s all an illusion.  I’m already starting to struggle with focus and have an urgent need to complete a book for a certification test tomorrow.  I’ve been looking it over since the beginning of the week.  I can’t get past page 2.

My moods are swinging.  I believe I’m compensating for it but that might be an illusion as well.  I feel like I have question every action I take pretty much every minute, but yet I can’t trust my analysis.

Speaking of the album ‘News of the World’, affectionately known as the ‘We are the Champions’ album, has there ever been a more bad-ass album cover?