Slightly overwhelmed

Must be almost December. The shortening days and unremitting doom and gloom have gotten to me more than a bit, and all I want to do is emulate a squirrel, curl up in a ball and count my nuts.

There’s still work to do around the property for when the ground dries out a bit. Branches to be trimmed, sealing the colander-like roof on the biggest shed, clearing the guttering, fixing the broken glass in the greenhouse and so on. It feels like a bit of a treadmill.

It’s at times like these my fragile optimism takes a break and I want to say ‘enough’. I’ve even gone so far as to begin blocking certain email addresses. Something I’ve never done before. I might ignore an email address from time to time and delete on arrival, but blocking individuals? No. I’ve blocked IP addresses before, but not recently. There hasn’t been the need.

I’m also a little overwhelmed because heretofore simple tasks are being made needlessly complex by Alphabet corporation, which won’t let me log on to my old gmail account without extra verification. Which means I can’t sign into google, and I’m damned if I’m giving them my current phone number. They’d only sell it. All this extra flim-flam being done because they care about my ‘comfort and security’, allegedly. And that’s a really nice bridge, how much did you say?

My innate masculinity is supposedly ‘toxic’. Simple politeness is redefined as ‘sexist’, ‘racist’ or some kind of ‘phobic’ (Another wretched set of neologisms coined by a few nutters to drive the rest of us crazy). One could be forgiven for feeling like all ones most cherished belief systems are under attack. And fighting back, even with the lightest touch, is somehow not allowed.

Honest doubt in the face of a lack of evidence is characterised as ‘denialism’. (Another neologism). Considering this kind of constant re-invention of language is firmly linked to Schizophrenia and allied mental health conditions, one could put forward the argument that there is a great deal of mental illness out there.

Which gets me down sometimes. And it would seem I’m not alone. See John Campbell’s exposition below.

Although I prefer to put it more succinctly; “Life, don’t talk to me about life…” or “F#ck ’em all.”