Dear Diary

invariably unhinged

In hindsight I should have named this blog ‘the quiet lunatic’, because the degree of my radicalism varies depending on the subject and on whom you ask, but the degree of my lunacy doesn’t. I mean, obviously there are worse cases. I’m lucid, for one. Quite self-controlled (and self-assured), for another.

And something’s telling me that amidst all the posts gently alluding to me not being fully right in the head, I should note that in no way do I glamourise mental disorders or illnesses. Silver linings, yeah, sure, but were I not medicated, I wouldn’t be here now writing this post. And my “case”, as one could call it, is really not all that bad. Pretty mid, tbh. So no, I’m not glamourising. But in the words of cliches, we’re all fighting difficult battles, and talking the talk that I talk and walking the walk that I walk is one way of not losing mine.

Maybe once I really lose it, this shit’ll help the professionals to bring me back somewhat. That is, if I see the signs and tell someone where to find the narrative.


I celebrated first Christmas by catching a cold and staying in bed. One ought to build traditions in my age, and it looks like this is becoming mine. Last year I got violently feverish on New Year’s Eve and spent the entirety of my hard earned PTO trying to tell up from down. I needed a vacation from that vacation. *badumtss* This one’s not so much hard as it is annoying. And I’m not off, I’m working from home. But it’s the end of the year, and the industry’s dead, or at least the segment I’m in. I’m not worried. It will be back screaming come first week of January.

Suddenly I feel very sleepy, which is an undeniable plus of having a respiratory infection, so I shall drag my weary carcass to bed.

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