(no subject)
Last night I was absolutely depressed about journaling. Indeed, writing of any sort.
I've been constructing a sort of personal history were the events in the Shadowrun actual. Sort of constructing a character sheet for myself and my friends. Of course, I and several people I know personally all get Magic. I have a sort of guideline which determines why one set of persons gets Magic and why another set does not. Since, as much as anything this little adventure has been an attempt to familiarize me with the 4th Edition Shadowrun rules, I've left out the violent bits for now because they would require I construct the rest of the character sheet, and I'm not really ready for that yet.
Recently, I came to the conclusion that I should stop writing it because the events in the Shadowrun timeline are so amazingly depressing. I expressed this to jonathanshade, and while he was sympathetic, he reminded me that the Shadowrun world is a dystopia, where the player characters are even more heroic because they are criminals under the current, rather depressing system.
I'm writing the thing again.
--
My left arm has been gradually getting better. Tennis elbow, and I'm not sure how I got it, and I can guarantee you I haven't been playing tennis. I wake up in the morning and I don't even feel anything different about that arm. It feels just the same as the other one. And that's the improvement.
In days past I'd wake up with an evil sort of twinge that would grow to pain if I attempted to lift anything the wrong way, including my fingers. These days I can manage around 5 pounds before I start noticing pain. I have a strap I put around my forearm which enables me to deal with this injury such that I can do most of the work I end up having to do without any real pain.
I had another clip, but I left it behind at an Outback restaurant, so I bought another one. This one seems to be an improvement on the other one, although I have to be a little careful about cinching it down, or I can cut off some sensation.
The entire process has been utterly annoying, although I've learned exactly how much I can use my left arm without meaning to. I now get out of bed by levering myself up with my right arm. I've noticed that whichever arm is dominant isn't the one bearing the largest loads under most circumstances, so I'm gradually teaching myself to be a lefty. I still don't write with my left hand, but I don't think that's really going to be required, since writing with my right hand continues to take the strain of really anything away from the left arm. I write longhand while sitting up, since the left elbow would bear my weight if I wrote while leaning on the bed. I have a gel keyboard rest between me and the keyboard, not so I can rest my hands on it, but so my left elbow doesn't come in contact with anything hard when I forget and lean on it. Really, I shouldn't lean on my left elbow at all, but just in case I do, I have a buffer to make injury less likely.
--
Watching what I eat is continuing to be an issue. That TMI IBS stuff I mentioned earlier is still going on, and I don't get my upper GI exam until early next month, so I have to keep a food diary until at least that point. I don't like having to pay this much attention to when I eat, and I haven't always eaten only what I'm supposed to eat in the doses I'm supposed to eat it in. Last week I got a container of fig newtons and ate almost the entire thing. Of course, fig newtons have seeds, and I'm supposed to stay away from seeds, so I had problems the next morning.
--
We also have a cat who may be in the process of dying. Apache is a five year-old cat, not nearly old enough to be having these kinds of problems. He's thin to the point of wasting away, and he's not really eating. When it comes to putting him under the ground I don't really know where to put him. Today I get to force-feed and force-hydrate him and I bet you can guess how much I look forward to that. There's a reason I never had pets when I lived alone.
Holes around here always take such a long time to dig. We have gravel in the ground and the further toward the road you get, the more gravel there is. I've been unsuccessfully trying to get pavers to put down over the buried cats so we know who is where. I really don't want to make a mistake and accidentally dig someone up.
Impending cat death is usually so depressing anyway.
--
So that's what I've been doing when not writing here. It's the slow grind of everyday reality. Perhaps you can see why I haven't been writing lately. It's all just so boring and/or gross, and I've been feeling increasingly depressed and low-energy.
I suppose I should go find breakfast.
I've been constructing a sort of personal history were the events in the Shadowrun actual. Sort of constructing a character sheet for myself and my friends. Of course, I and several people I know personally all get Magic. I have a sort of guideline which determines why one set of persons gets Magic and why another set does not. Since, as much as anything this little adventure has been an attempt to familiarize me with the 4th Edition Shadowrun rules, I've left out the violent bits for now because they would require I construct the rest of the character sheet, and I'm not really ready for that yet.
Recently, I came to the conclusion that I should stop writing it because the events in the Shadowrun timeline are so amazingly depressing. I expressed this to jonathanshade, and while he was sympathetic, he reminded me that the Shadowrun world is a dystopia, where the player characters are even more heroic because they are criminals under the current, rather depressing system.
I'm writing the thing again.
--
My left arm has been gradually getting better. Tennis elbow, and I'm not sure how I got it, and I can guarantee you I haven't been playing tennis. I wake up in the morning and I don't even feel anything different about that arm. It feels just the same as the other one. And that's the improvement.
In days past I'd wake up with an evil sort of twinge that would grow to pain if I attempted to lift anything the wrong way, including my fingers. These days I can manage around 5 pounds before I start noticing pain. I have a strap I put around my forearm which enables me to deal with this injury such that I can do most of the work I end up having to do without any real pain.
I had another clip, but I left it behind at an Outback restaurant, so I bought another one. This one seems to be an improvement on the other one, although I have to be a little careful about cinching it down, or I can cut off some sensation.
The entire process has been utterly annoying, although I've learned exactly how much I can use my left arm without meaning to. I now get out of bed by levering myself up with my right arm. I've noticed that whichever arm is dominant isn't the one bearing the largest loads under most circumstances, so I'm gradually teaching myself to be a lefty. I still don't write with my left hand, but I don't think that's really going to be required, since writing with my right hand continues to take the strain of really anything away from the left arm. I write longhand while sitting up, since the left elbow would bear my weight if I wrote while leaning on the bed. I have a gel keyboard rest between me and the keyboard, not so I can rest my hands on it, but so my left elbow doesn't come in contact with anything hard when I forget and lean on it. Really, I shouldn't lean on my left elbow at all, but just in case I do, I have a buffer to make injury less likely.
--
Watching what I eat is continuing to be an issue. That TMI IBS stuff I mentioned earlier is still going on, and I don't get my upper GI exam until early next month, so I have to keep a food diary until at least that point. I don't like having to pay this much attention to when I eat, and I haven't always eaten only what I'm supposed to eat in the doses I'm supposed to eat it in. Last week I got a container of fig newtons and ate almost the entire thing. Of course, fig newtons have seeds, and I'm supposed to stay away from seeds, so I had problems the next morning.
--
We also have a cat who may be in the process of dying. Apache is a five year-old cat, not nearly old enough to be having these kinds of problems. He's thin to the point of wasting away, and he's not really eating. When it comes to putting him under the ground I don't really know where to put him. Today I get to force-feed and force-hydrate him and I bet you can guess how much I look forward to that. There's a reason I never had pets when I lived alone.
Holes around here always take such a long time to dig. We have gravel in the ground and the further toward the road you get, the more gravel there is. I've been unsuccessfully trying to get pavers to put down over the buried cats so we know who is where. I really don't want to make a mistake and accidentally dig someone up.
Impending cat death is usually so depressing anyway.
--
So that's what I've been doing when not writing here. It's the slow grind of everyday reality. Perhaps you can see why I haven't been writing lately. It's all just so boring and/or gross, and I've been feeling increasingly depressed and low-energy.
I suppose I should go find breakfast.