I'm not sure I understand this one.

I was driving on some surface streets, and traffic was a mess.

At one point I was turning right and this little girl, maybe about two years old, was walking across the street in front of me. So, of course, I stopped and let her go by. I also kept an eye on her, because what was a two-year-old doing walking around in the road?

Well this little girl crossed in front of me and then almost immediately walked behind my car. I was afraid that the car behind me would hit her, so I jumped out of my car and grabbed the little girl. I guess I figured I'd take her home and then try to figure out who she belonged to.

But then after I put the little girl in my car I realized that it was a little dog instead. A poodle, I think. All white, and about the size of a 10-pound turkey. Cute!

Luckily I woke up before any of my cats found out I'd brought a dog home.

Today was the fifth day in a row that I've gone to HatGirl's house to take care of her critters, but I still haven't seen the kitty even once. I do, however, know that the kitty is still alive because I set treats out each day and the next day they're gone.

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I get so sick and tired of people trivializing my problems and expecting me to act normal all the time. I do good to get out of bed in the mornings. Anything more than that is a bonus.

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Tonight I had a nice long talk with my dad's ghost. It took some doing, and a couple bottles of Three Floyd's Gumballhead (215), to conjure him up, but I eventually succeeded.

It was a really nice conversation.

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Every now and then I'll be driving - it's usually in Louisville - and I'll see some random young man walking down the sidewalk, using one hand to keep his super-loose pants from falling down.

I always wonder what kind of a terrible life that must be, the constant pressure that must involve.

Stretching an analogy almost to its breaking-point, I kinda do the same thing as those random young men.

Except that it's not modesty that I'm trying to preserve. Nope, it's my sanity.

I walk through life desperately clutching to pieces of myself that threaten to fall to the ground.

And shatter.

The shattering part is where the pants analogy breaks down. Because pants don't shatter, unless they haven't been washed in a zillion years, and that's an entirely different problem.

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You know what's really nice to hear from the love of your life?

"Well, I wouldn't say you were the worst person ever."

That's what's nice to hear. Hope springs eternal, and all that.

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Also, people who don't like the way I am should stop trying to guilt me into being something else. It won't work.

Empathy does not require understanding or agreement. Those are common misconceptions, but those things really are irrelevant to empathy.

Empathy can stand on its own and do just fine.

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For those keeping score at home, I still haven't renewed any of my vehicle registrations. They were already closed on Saturday when I got there. They were closed today, and they'll be closed tomorrow. So I get to drive around illegally until Tuesday.

Fun!

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That's it for now. I need to go out to my garage and glare at my phone for a while.

I think all I want to say about tonight is that I was held captive by two hot young women, and that I had fun.

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Oh shit! I totally forgot to renew any of my vehicle registrations. All three expired the 15th of September. I'll have to see about at least renewing the registration on my truck tomorrow, if I have time.

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I think what's happened is that I've crossed some kind of sleep-deprivation wall. Kind of like marathon runners will reach a certain point and then running is supposed to become effortless. Well I should be very tired right now, but I'm not at all.

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My brain is really rambling. You readers are lucky that so little of the rambling is making it to my fingers.

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I want to go to Antarctica, and I don't want to take myself with me. I don't know how to do that. Or, maybe, I want to go to Antarctica with myself, but then return without myself. I don't know how to do that either. Either way, though, I want to go to Antarctica.

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Another thing about tonight is that I had a Shiner Bock (17) and a Barley Island Barfly (56). Or maybe that's two other things about tonight.

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Sometimes a helping hand is exactly that, and nothing more. Sneering at it will only lessen the probability of it ever being offered again.

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If I had any sense at all, I'd do something. What, exactly, I don't know. Because I don't have any sense at all.

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I suppose I should go stare at my bedroom ceiling for a few hours. Goodnight, world.

I had the strangest dream this morning. I'd gone back to the old house in Lanesville, where I lived until I was six. I go by there once or twice a year, hoping to see somebody in the yard so I can ask for a tour on some pretense or another.

In this dream, I went there and my dad was out in the driveway working on a car. In fact, my entire family was there. They were all wondering where I'd been for all these years.

Very strange, but still nice to see everyone again. Except for my friend and neighbor Kelly, who was really pissed at me for disappearing like that.

What a stupid night.

I'm sitting here at 1:45 AM, watching backup jobs run. Or watching them try to run. Stupid things keep failing.

And I'm not even supposed to be on-call tonight, so it's extra stupid.

Meanwhile, I guess I'm having a bit of a crisis. So it's kind of hard to think about work.

Had a really crappy day.

Irritated, almost angry at times. One of those days when I really had to wonder why I was even bothering with anything.

Lots of things are wrong. Fuck, everything good in my life is tainted. I may be surrounded by silver linings, but today all I see are dark clouds. And, the thing is, it all boils down to one feeling. One simple emotion that trumps everything else on days like today.

Self-loathing.

For living in this cage, I hate myself. For being unable to take my own damn advice, I hate myself. For my stubborn refusal to accept reality like a man, I hate myself. For whatever it is that's wrong with me, for whatever it is that keeps me invisible, that makes me unworthy, I loathe myself.

I am so fucked.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.

I guess there are about 6,700,000,000 people on Earth. Most of them are probably assholes, but I only wanted to write about one person tonight. So this entry won't be long as it could be. In fact, it will probably be quite brief.

I've kinda had these thoughts rattling around in my brain for a while. I know that they're worthy of a blog entry, but I've never been sure that I'm worthy to write that entry.

Well, I'm still unsure of my worthiness, but I'm in a very strange mood, so fuck it. I'm going to write something relevant.

The thing is, I think, that it only takes one person to change everything.

If just one person thinks that you're beautiful, you can never truly be ugly. If just one person sees the good in you, then you can never be a completely bad person. If just one person loves you, then you can never be unlovable. If just one person sits enthralled, dumbfounded, by how special you are, then you can never be ordinary. If just one person cares about you, then you fucking matter and you can never be irrelevant.

Going by the above, I am a beautiful, good, lovable, special person who matters. Seemed kind of silly to type that sentence. Seems even sillier to read it, knowing that it's about me, of all people. But there it is, and here I am.

I forget where I was going with this entry.

I got a very nice surprise today.

An unscheduled AlliDay!

I don't think I'd seen AlliGirl in over a month, and even then she'd been too busy to really talk. But today, I walked into the pub, expecting to see the same boring Wednesday people that I've been seeing for months, and instead I saw some legs. And a shock of blonde hair peeking from under a baseball cap. And, once I got close enough for her to recognize me, a mischievous grin.

AlliGirl!

And, it wasn't too busy in there today, so after the mandatory hug we got to talk for quite a bit and do some catching up.

It was really nice to see her!

Oh, yeah, I had a Newcastle (11106) for lunch.

Then, back to work.

Then, I went over to HatGirl's house to feed her cat and dogs and LuckyFucker's fish. Because they're gone. Getting married. Fucking surreal.

Anyway, HatGirl had assured me that her one asshole dog wasn't an asshole anymore. I'm not saying that she lied to me, but she was definitely mistaken. That damn dog refused to let me pay any attention whatsoever to the other dogs. It's exactly the same as it was a year ago.

And I didn't get to see the kitty at all. It was hiding from me because it doesn't know that I'm a cat person.

Then I went to Rich O's and had an Upland Wheat (231), then I came home.

Now I want to go outside and drink a Marzen but it's too damn cold. I kinda want to take a little space heater out there with me, but I'm afraid that might seem pathetic.

Maybe I'll just drink a damn beer in my living room like a regular person.

Got a quick text* from HatGirl this morning. They were getting ready to board. Their cruise. Their wedding cruise.

Surreal. The next time I see HatGirl and LuckyFucker, they will be married.

I bet that right now, Vegas oddsmakers are looking for tall buildings from which to fling themselves.

Anyway, for the next couple of weeks I am tasked with taking care of all of their critters. I'm looking forward to it, actually. I did the same thing last year, when they went on a regular non-wedding cruise. I like their dogs and their cat, and I guess the fish are cool.

This year I'm hopeful that the cat will actually let me pet it. And that none of the dogs bite me.

* - As opposed to those laboriously slow texts that take forever, I suppose.