A 6-post collection

I can handle this (I think)

I did order myself ten months' worth of Ashwagandha, at a hefty knock to my wallet. I'm... "fine". Sort of.

I can cope. I can deal. I can make it.


It's gonna be tight for a little while. I can squeak by. I'm avoiding cash purchases this week, but that's me punishing myself for making a purchase that is more than my weekly budget.

...I should probably stop hurting myself like that.

This is another scar from growing up poor and I know it. How dare I, a mere human being, need expensive medication just to function? I could have bought far more worthy things with that money and I know it.

I have felt guilty for needing a complete stock-up of my asthma meds. Medication I needed to firkin live, so I could look after my family and all that nonsense. I felt guilty for needing all that medication. For costing my family money just so I could keep breathing.

That's fucked up, right?

Compared to my most Epic Breathing Bill [AUS$600+] the $250 I paid for a bunch of Ashwagandha isn't that much. But the guilt keeps creeping in anyway.

I'll get over that in a few days. I'll likely get over that by next week, when I'm 'allowed' to have money again. And just that selection of verbiage tells me that I am not over being poor and likely never will be.


They turn up in the weirdest places.

I feel better now

Yesterday, I was a gold-plated grump. However, some Doctor Who and a decent nap has helped me approach life with a case of que sera sera. There's no point in getting emotional about this shit because - it does nothing.

Unless I become an overnight, international celebrity that the billionaires fawn over, then there's absolutely nothing I can say or do that will change their minds. I'm just another pleb at their mercy. Another peasant struggling to exist in this diesel dystopia

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Plus la Change, Plus la Meme Chose

Another book, another routine. Another chain of illogic to boggle your average nypical. It goes a little something like this:

  1. Hand-writing things may be permanently portable, but transcribing it to legible text just slows me down because (a) I'm the only person who can read my handwriting (b) I can't afford to hire someone who can read my handwriting and (c) I end up reading what I've written more than typing in the thing.
  2. It really is quicker and easier for me
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Hark, hark, the dogs... don't bark?

I had a curious incident of the dogs in the neighbourhood, this morning. Like in the Sherlock Holmes adventure Silver Blaze, they did not bark.

Not a single hound decided to greet me this morning. And I'm very used to the local canine population reacting like I'm Bobby The Serial Killer whenever I toddle by their particular patch of fence.

On one hand, it means that my neighbours around two blocks don't curse my existence or the goddamn cheerful "Good Morning!" I

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I freaking called it!

I have billions of good ideas and no concept of how to take them to fruition. Fine and dandy.

What bugs me is that I later see these good ideas coming into reality at a minimum of five years after I was flat-out told that my concepts were impossible for one reason or another.

In my teen years, I dreamed up an animation program that any idiot could use [specifically, an idiot like me who has no freaking clue how to animate]

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To cloud or not to cloud...

Any Apple fan worth their salt knows that Apple’s bringing the Cloud to the plebs, but what does it mean for writers like me?

Pros, cons and musings below the cut.

Pro: Convenience. A document or WIP [that’s Work In Progress for the unenlightened] can be accessed anywhere by any device, so long as you know the password.

Con: The potentiality for Fic Griefers. People who hack into your cloud just to mess with your work and cause

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