Looks like Trump is “tweeting” again, except this time sending short bursts of messages to his shitty personal blog. It’s funny to see a former president be reduced to the level of your average joe blogger. I guess that’s really the privilege we’re looking for. Everyone wants to be able to host their own soap box, and everyone should have that right. Including Facebook, Twitter, etc. They should be able to moderate the content on their platform, just as Donnie can moderate his shitty personal blog. We do, however, badly need net neutrality reinstated. It’s the second Monday of the week, and I’m already sick of it. I think I need to focus less on weekends, because it seems like it always takes forever to get to the weekend and every weekend flies by in the blink of an eye. It’s pretty goddamned frustrating. I’m getting so burnt out, though, with all this COVID crap and taking so few breaks from work. I’m ready to take a month off and just relax. I really need to deliver on that promised “tech-related” blog post soon. Truthfully I think I could really deliver a useful service to the community by writing as decent a Wireguard primer as I possibly can. It’s truly an awesome bit of software and incredibly useful for so many reasons. Having become relatively capable with rolling it out means I at least have some way to give back. It’ll also be nice to foster expanding the Wireguard community. Anyways, I suppose I should get back to my immense pile of bullshit that I have to do.

I am your “ride or die”. I don’t write that in any light-hearted way. It’s a sentiment I intend to express in the most declamatory way possible. It isn’t something to whisper, it’s something to shout from the tallest building or emblazon a blimp with. I’ve always used words to cope with difficult situations in life. I can elaborate every detail of hardships and sadness and the words roll off my tongue effortlessly, as it’s something I’ve done for a very long time. Less so when times have been easy, or during times of contentment. In fact, the happier I am the more tongue-tied I typically feel. That said, it’s hard for me to write about life right now. It isn’t that I don’t have hardships to endure. I certainly do. Everyone does. The real difficulty for me stems from having such an immense surplus of positivity in my life. I’m buying a house with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve found someone who makes me feel intellectually, emotionally, and completely fulfilled. I’m going to marry this wonderful woman. Every hardship and difficult situation seems so minute and distant. I should honestly try to write more regardless of how I’m feeling so that I might normalize writing in general, not just as a coping mechanism. I feel like it really limits the range of my expressiveness. I have the most amazing partner ever. I feel like it does her a great disservice for me to feel nearly “tongue-tied” because I’m happy. I am your “ride or die” because I love you and appreciate you. You are beautiful and the embodiment of what humanity could be if love and patience were priorities. I am daily in awe of you. I feel as though I could spend a lifetime getting to know you and still be surprised by your combination of loving positivity and intelligence. I love you so very much. I also want to have sex with you 24/7. I’m just glad you chose me, and I hope you always do from here on out. I will always choose you. I love you.

I grabbed everything I give a damn about and turned in the keys. It’s over. The bullshit is over. Sweet.

Got all my raspberry pi’s set up. Everything’s moving and grooving. Still sorta hungover from a 50mg edible last night. Holy fucking GOD that thing tore me up. Rekt.

As long as I’ve been alive, the pronounds “They/Them” have been reserved for unique instances. It’s been used as a plural, a general non-specific pronoun, singular indefinite antecedent, and to protect an individual’s identity. These instances have been pretty codified in our minds from school. It was always incorrect to use “They” to refer to an individual that can be addressed with “He/She”. Historically, the structures that we establish to define our world have taken a lot of time and consideration before catching up to what’s been accepted as the norm. As time goes on, that gap narrows, and our knowledge body adapts faster than ever. If you check baseline dictionaries these days, such as “Oxford English” and “Merriam Webster”, you’ll see that along with the usual plural, indefinite antecedent, and anonymous referral, they’ve added “They/Them” as correctly identifying people who are non-binary. The gap has officially closed, grammar has caught up with popular reference, and you can’t back out of this extra set of pronouns by using grammar as an excuse.

We have a house picked out and it’s now “pending”. Once it’s finished and has certificate of occupancy, we’re moving in. It’s going to be a beautiful, huge, awesome house. Four bedrooms, two and a half bath, all your regular rooms plus an extra “flex” room. It’s perfect. The person I’m establishing my life with couldn’t be more perfect for me. The deadline of moving out of my soggy apartment draws nigh. I couldn’t be happier.

Glad I got the last post off my chest. Now it’s nothing but looking onward and upward, and I get to do it with my best friend and the best partner ever. I think 2020 and most of 2021 has proven fairly awful for a lot of people, but I can honestly say that 2020 and on has been some of the best times in my life, even the difficult parts. Fifteen days left until keys get returned. Crazy.

Holy balls, what a bunch of weeks. Time just slips by and I just about can’t account for where it went.

My shitty landlord did me a favor, though. The morons who live above me yet again had an “issue” which caused torrential flooding of my unit. Subsequently, the morons at Hartman-Tyner Village Squire maintenance neglected to check my unit or notify me in any way that the unit above mine had a serious flooding incident. I came home one day and a cold chill yeeted up my spine as every foot-fall yield a cacaphony of “sploosh” sounds. Of course, the jackasses didn’t do much more than tear the old carpet up and put floor fans down to “dry out” the absolute clusterfuck. That was really all I needed to advance my move-out date by a month or two.

It feels like 80% of my existence revolves around my job. I realize that’s not true. I understand that a lot of my simple day-to-day activities are basically just self-care and necessary duties for myself and my offspring. I dunno. Things just feel very “pinned down”. I haven’t worked remotely much. I haven’t been furloughed. I haven’t skipped a beat. Yet all this forward career momentum is incredibly abrasive without all the niceties I enjoyed pre-COVID. It’s incredibly difficult. I just want to be able to go to my local bar and do a trivia night with my girlfriend. I just want to take her to a movie and to dinner. I want to take my kids to waterparks. I want to be human again, and not a burnt-out cog. Maybe I just complain too much. I dunno. I guess I should get back to work.