Changing My Mind

Ever since the other day when I got that traffic ticket and decided to sell off all my Funko Pops, I’ve been depressed and down. I already sold off a couple of my more expensive Pops to pay for “traffic school” to get out from under the ticket. But tonight, after realizing why I was depressed and talking things over with my wife, I’ve decided not to sell off any more of my Pops.

It’s a silly thing, really, collecting. Mostly you just buy stuff and it sits there and collects dust. Every now and then you look at it or maybe rearrange it a little, but it doesn’t really qualify as a hobby because there’s so little of a time investment. But for whatever reason, my Pop collection is very important to me. I think it’s a little island of normalcy in this world of mine that’s been turned upside down in so many ways. I get excited when I have a new Pop coming in the mail. It doesn’t take but five minutes to open it, put it in a protector, and put it in its place in the collection, but those are five nice minutes. It’s a ray of sunshine into my usually dark and dreary world.

So anyway, the rest of the Pops stay. By the by, I get money for Pops by taking online surveys. Talk about a fucking grind of a way to make a little bit of money. But that survey money does build up, 50 cents or a dollar at a time, and eventually you have enough money to buy something. So we aren’t “wasting” money on Pops, it’s money I would never have had if I didn’t have a strong motivation to earn it in the first place. Theoretically I could earn that money and put it into savings, but that’s too boring to sustain my motivation. If ever we get in a REAL crunch, I can sell my Pops then, assuming they haven’t turned into Beanie Babies and lost all their value.

I’m still a little down over the Pops that I did sell, but I know that eventually I’ll be able to get them back again. Overall I feel much better. I’m doing a stupid thing by letting my emotions overrule my brain, and I recognize that. But sometimes in life you have to go with what your heart tells you, and my heart just wasn’t into selling off all my Pops. I have so many that it feels like I just got them, and I have some Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Pops that I haven’t even gotten a chance to display at Christmastime. Hopefully we’ll still be solvent come Christmastime and not broke or homeless. Yes, I’m an atheist who celebrates Christmas. So shoot me.

My worries about homelessness continue unabated. I got triggered hard-core by the House passing TrumpCare, and I’ve been reading too much political stuff in my Facebook feed. Gotta stay away from that. It’s partly good because I get to see what Bernie’s up to, but on the other hand not a day goes by that I don’t see something in my feed that depresses me as we slide ever closer to the edge of the abyss. But I don’t want to delve too far into politics today. Why ruin a good mood?

It’s funny how so often it’s the little things that can sustain us in hard times. My Pop collection is small, and in the grand scheme of things I should have no problem giving it up. It’s a luxury in a poor man’s world that doesn’t have room for luxuries. But giving it up was just gnawing away at my soul. It might have been the smart thing to do, selling them, but it just felt so wrong that I just can’t do it. Hopefully I won’t come to regret this decision, but for tonight I’m happy I changed my mind.

Thanks for reading. =)


French Defense

OK, I’m better now. Teach me to blog drunk and feeling sorry for myself. I’m still listening to angry music, but I’ve calmed down a good bit.

Problem now is it’s 1AM and I can’t sleep. I fell asleep drunk at 7:30 and woke up sober at 11:30. I sold one of my most expensive Funko Pops and the sky didn’t fall, so I guess I’ll be OK getting rid of them. It still makes me sad though.

As if we needed more trouble, our printer isn’t working. It won’t connect to our Wifi network. I dunno what the hell is wrong with the damn thing. You know, I used to think Samsung was the way to go with electronics, but between this printer and a smart DVD player that continually forgets it’s connected to the Internet, I’m not so sure anymore. The printers they sell in Walmart are all garbage anyway–they sell you a cheap printer so they can bend you over with the ink. Maybe with my Pop money I can get us a new printer too, sigh.

It never ends. There’s a saying in my family: “It’s always something.” And I’ll be damned if it ain’t true. You never get ahead, you never get to relax, there’s always something going on or hovering over you, something that could cause you grief. If you’re lucky it’s a nonfunctional printer and a traffic ticket. If you’re unlucky it’s cancer or a death in the family. I should count my blessings.

Atheist that I am, I say a kind of prayer when I go to bed to remind myself of all the things I have to be grateful for. My wife and I are alive and safe and healthy (reasonably), and that’s the most important thing of all. We have a roof over our heads, food to eat, clothes to wear, and a solid, working car (knock on wood). We’re a lot better off even than a lot of people who live in our building. Our building is for the elderly and disabled, and a lot of these folks can barely take care of themselves. Thank you, God or Flying Spaghetti Monster or Universe or whatever, that for today my wife and I are OK in spite of having a kind of shitty day. Thank you that I’m capable of sitting here and typing on a magic machine that sends my little thoughts out into the world. Things could be so much infinitely worse. If all I have to worry about is selling off my toy collection to pay a traffic ticket and get my wife a new phone, I’m doing pretty good.

am doing pretty good. My bipolar has been fairly steady over the last couple weeks, the depression hasn’t been too bad, and I’m not suicidal at all, not even really thinking about it. I would never commit suicide while my wife was alive–my two attempts were in unique circumstances that I won’t go into–but sometimes I ruminate about it. I’ll imagine the worst nightmare I can come up with, put myself in that situation, and picture myself committing suicide. But the ruminating hasn’t been bad lately. I still worry about being homeless, but the more I see the orange clown and his team of idiots in Congress fucking up left and right, the less I fear his agenda. It’s not going to be that easy to tear America apart. They’re going to try–they ARE trying–but we have a good bunch of people ready to fight them. I’m not talking about the Democrats in Congress, most of whom are useless corporate shills. I’m talking about groups like Indivisible, whom you can thank for the defeat (so far) of the GOP’s attempts to repeal Obamacare.

Well, I’m going to try to get some sleep. Thanks for reading. =)


King’s Gambit

I normally can’t write with music going in my head, but I’m going to try. I’m drunk too, so take that into consideration.

I got a ticket today. I was driving in an area with which I’m not familiar. There was a yield spot, so I yielded until the traffic went by, then I went when the coast was clear. The next thing is I hear a BOOP and I look back and there’s a motorcycle cop, lights flashing, pointing at me.

I pulled over, but he went on to pull over a guy ahead of me. I pulled back out, and suddenly there’s ANOTHER motorcycle cop, pointing at me. I pulled over, and sure enough, he bagged me with a ticket. Failure to Yield to an Emergency Vehicle.

Yes, it’s bullshit, but what can I do? If you take it to court the cops will lie and say whatever they need to say. So I’m staring at a $260 ticket. I’m gonna go to traffic school–which is a joke, I’m the safest driver I know–which will knock the cost down to $125 and keep my record clean.

As a result of this, my wife and I got to talking, and I’m going to sell off my collection of Funko Pops. This, I don’t want to do. But I’ve got like over a grand worth of Pops in my collection, and we have like $700 in savings. Not to mention the ticket. Plus my wife needs a new cell phone. Not as in, “I need a new cell phone,” but more like “I NEED a motherfucking new cell phone or I’m going to kill myself with this one.” So what can I do? I’m going to sell the Pops. It breaks my heart, because I’m a collector at heart, but when your heart tells you one thing and your brain tells you another, what do you do?

I’ll tell you what you fucking do. You go with your goddamn brain. What, are you stupid? You think your feelings mean something? No, they don’t. They mean that you’re emotionally involved and therefore not thinking straight. You go with your brain. That’s what smart, successful people do. They go with their brains. Every time. If you can do that successfully, you’ve found the Golden Ticket to success and happiness. Go with your brain. Your heart is a fool; your brain is where it’s at. Who cares that you’re dying inside a little, that your enjoyment of the world is a sliver less than what it was? Life isn’t fair. Life isn’t about having fun or getting what you want or any of that bullshit. Life is about life. And life is loss. So if you have to sell your stupid collection of Funko Pops because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, then you put your fucking head down and you do it.

Fuck you, and fuck the world, and fuck invisible motorcycle cops. Out.