No AI was used in the development of this blog post.
Though, given that I keep taking 6+ month gaps between posts, maybe I should consider some clanker support.
This post finds me somewhat older, no wiser, accepting the reduced challenges on my mental capacity and the resultant understanding that I will never be as intelligent and informed as I was back in the day. I have five years in at my gub'mint job, and it's still five more years before any of my retirement vests. I don't think I'll be seeking any promotions and picking up any extra responsibility, but that means I know what little money I'll make and I know how meager my retirement will be. I no longer think about how soon I can retire, I now think about how long I can keep working to kick the can down the road.
I used to get sad when my dad told me in which order he hoped he and his wife would die. I guess I get it a little more now.
I've been going to twice-monthly therapy for a couple years now, which might inform the infrequency of these blog posts. If I can talk to a therapist, maybe I don't need to vent on this page. However, I just switched it to monthly therapy, and I'll be honest, I don't like it. On the one hand I should probably be making progress and being able to handle my own issues and anxiety and depression for two more weeks, and on the other hand I spend three weeks straight feeling like everything that happens might be the thing that makes me lose my shit and I will regret not having had a therapy session that week or the week before.
I'm taking a day off work and getting on a long ass Amtrak ride to visit some people I love for one day, 24 hours. I haven't been to see them in years and years and I feel like an ass for letting that happen.
I don't think anyone's reading this, but if you are, I hope you're doing well.
--6:54 PM EDT, Philadelphia, PA, The telecast's in Spanish, I can understand some / And I need justice in my life; here it comes
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