Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Got any cheese for this whine?

Going through a rough patch, at the moment. I'm depressed and don't feel good, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should be tested for dyslexia. I'm serious. I've noticed lately I reverse letters and numbers and work up ludicrous jumbles of letters thinking I'm inputting a specific word.

Doesn't help that when I make a decision, it's usually the opposite of what I need to do. When I go a direction, it's the wrong one. Over and over and over...and it was in such full view on this trip, I felt I was going nuts, for a moment.

Case in point -- en route from Philadelphia to New Haven, I aimed for the New Jersey Turnpike. It has gas stations along it, and I was getting to where I needed fuel. but somehow I wound up on the 295, a section of freeway that goes all the way around Trenton and winds up taking me the wrong way, without me realizing it.

I finally shift over onto the Turnpike when I hit the 195, and by now I'm really getting low, but I don't get off while on my way over. No. That would be too simple. I get on the turnpike...and there's no gas stations. I finally get off the turnpike, pay the toll and go looking for gas. I picked the one town in New Jersey that has just one gas station. And it's not visible until you pass it. But to do that, you have to figure out which way to go.

So...I wind up choosing every wrong direction I can before I just happen onto the station. Running on fumes, by this point. I get gas -- $75 maximum allowed on my credit card, which only puts 19 gallons in a 24 gallon tank. Use the bathroom. Go to a nearby store to buy a DP...and they've never even heard of it. All they have is Coke. I go to two other stores...and Coke, no nothing else. Right about then I'm thinking, God hates me.

I get back on the turnpike, irritated, and three miles up the road is a fucking service station. If I'd gone just 3 more miles, I wouldn't have wasted nearly 45 minutes on a crap town that has nothing going for it but narrow streets leading nowhere.

Story of my life. I go left when I should go right. I choose A when I should have chosen B. I decide to move here when I should have moved there. And on and on. And on top of it, I'm getting to where I can't fucking type.

Part of what brought this whine on is a family situation that flat out floored me, and I'm still trying to get past it. That's where the depression comes from. I'd talk about it, but I have a sister in law who likes to make trouble, so I don't post anything she can use to add to the family drama.

On top of it, trying to correct a logical flaw in OT has become a massive chore. And the whole drive up to New Haven and then back to Buffalo was so tedious, I felt time had stopped. And Sunday I'm leaving for another packing job...on a 6:30am flight. Meaning I have to be at the airport by 5:30. Meaning I may as well not bother going to bed.

What put a capper on it was, the evening star -- is that Venus or Mars? -- mocked me for an hour on my drive, last night, before it went away. And now my allergies are kicking in.

I'll need some bread for that cheese...or crackers...because I'll be at this crap for a while.


MAC said...

Jeez, what can I say? You had one shitty trip! Maybe I jinxed it for you when I said to find time and relax. I hope things turn around for the better.


JamTheCat said...

Doubt it, Mac. These were things building up for a while and just came to a head this last week.