I've been playing a game called "Galaxy Online II" for a while without getting very far. Since the average Facebook gamer loves nothing more than to savage you average newbie who is just starting out. I had been suffering technical issues for a while so I asked the dreaded potentially stupid question. I never feared stupid questions in school. In fact, I didn't start fearing them until the time when I started fearing so many other things. I started fearing stupid questions when I lost a significant portion of my ability to think. At some point, I went from my extremely precocious beginnings to a point that was comparatively shy.
Sometimes, asking questions leads to the right answers. Even better, the right people answer them sometimes. I was recruited into the 805 corps which is the term this game uses for alliance and it has been great fun. The more powerful players have given me jumps in the tech department that would have required very long waits and/or spending real money. It was a lot of fun chatting with members of the 805 Corps during the inevitable waits to complete research.
Each day since I met these guys, I've been hit hard by pain. I've been working on the book with the working title, "The Ability to Live with Disability." Between the energy spent playing the game and working on the book, I'm exhausted much of the time. My core, as they call your middle today, has been twitching harder and harder as I get tired. It's one of Madeline's favorite targets when she wants something because I've been doing the equivalent of dozens of crunches each day. Going from that feeling right to the nightmares seems unbearable but one of my book themes is how everyone just has to keep getting back up.
Between my poor health and my increased workload, I've had less time for short form writing. To be more accurate, I've chosen to put my efforts into writing a book and into having fun with other people so I've budgeted less time for writing here. The PTSD has been bad. It saps at my resources unlike my organic symptoms because it's the result of attacks by people who knew how to hurt me. Thank God they have stayed away. Thank God I can pick up the phone and know that it won't lead to me wanting to die. The worst thing I can expect is a collector and I paid off the only one I know is after me very recently. Hard to believe but I had agreed to pay him literally three days after the worst summer of my life began with a flood.
I just put the smack down on some idiot scaremongering over Ebola. He's clearly a right wing nut having mentioned martial law and FEMA death camps in his post. We cannot have a functioning democratic republic as long as nuts like that can simply pick up a soap box and seem equal to adults with information. Ebola spread from patient to nurse because some people decided to cheap out on training and equipment to make some more money. Nurses are the only people in our society to come in direct contact with vomit, feces and bloody urine not to mention actual blood.
I think dealing with that (hopefully) poor misguided fool has used up the rest of my energy. I should post before I go silent for two months.
