I decided early on this year that this was the year I was going to devote to my hobby, writing. By some measure it was a success. My goal was to receive payment for something I wrote, which, to my great surprise, happened. Otherwise this year has sort of sucked as I have been complaining about for months. The war in Ukraine (is it the Ukraine, just Ukraine, or Ukrainia?) has been threatening to become a nuclear affair which could end us all, making any pebbles in my shoe pretty meaningless. Weather wise it was full on shit weather followed by 90+ straight days of sun and above normal temperatures, followed by the sudden return to monsoon conditions. Hockey-wise, my two favourite teams have managed to acquire some hot young talent, only to continue losing steadily. I meant to write for the CBC Fiction contest, but I had no ideas for a story, and the time I would normally spend alone at work dreaming up stories has been spent with someone foisted upon me. So the polite natter, natter of conversation has drowned out any plots. Disclaimer: the person I’ve been riding with is a fine person, and I nearly always enjoy his company, but sometimes I, like Greta Garbo, prefer to be left alone. But worse yet he is interfering with my singing. Usually I drive around singing at the top of my lungs like a fool, but it’s probably a United Nations human rights violation to subject the poor guy to my voice. American troops ‘tortured’ Afghanis by repeatedly blasting the Metallica song Enter Sandman at them, and they can actually sing. Just imagine the auditory discomfort a screechy, off-key seagull like me could inflict in an eight hour drive! Let the record show I have shown mercy on the prisoner in my truck.
November is my least favourite month. There, I’ve said it. It sounds negative to say, but really it is an acknowledgement that things are going to be getting better starting soon. The weather sucks, and since I work outside, that is a big deal to me. Even the one holiday this month is a somber occasion with lots of tears, black and white newsreel footage, and lonely bugles playing. Bah. I understand the significance of it all, but it is not a celebration of anything, just a reminder of how stupid humanity frequently is. If I need to be reminded about stupidity, all I need to do is read some news and find out what Donald Trump and Marjorie Taylor Greene have been up to, and the sad guy can put away his bugle.
Socializing has picked up lately. We went to a Halloween party for the first time in years last weekend. I dressed up as Alice Cooper. My costume was pretty good, but facially I don’t look much like Alice. Luckily the costume didn’t prevent me from drinking irresponsibly and playing beer pong. Tonight we’re going to a surprise birthday party. I have a cold, so an upcoming week of coughing and snot will be my gift to all who attend. I think I used up all my mercy on the young guy who wasn’t tormented by my renditions of Supertramp and CCR, among others, the past couple weeks. Maybe I could give Dave a preemptive box of tissue as a gift? He might not realize the value in it until 48 hours later, but it will dawn on him eventually.
