Anne N. Mouse: Blog

I wish you all the best in this season. If you celebrate some other holiday at this time of year, know I don't intend to slight you, but I can't know what you might celebrate and don't have a complete list, so just know I hope you are well.

Writing? Since someone complained that I should reserve this for news about my writing, I must say everything remains in hiatus.

Noble Outfitters, Danner boots. Very pleased with both... :)

As a resident in the state of California, some time today I intend to engage in two acts that are dangerous. One a great many people consider far worse than the other.

Given my age I had been waiting out the initial trial stage of the COVID shots. AKA the Fauci Ouchy. Given all that I can discern about that treatment I'm holding out until my primary care provider (VA) forces me to take it in order to visit face to face. Many people seem to think this will be the most dangerous thing I chronically do. However, the numbers that I can find say it is not.

The other very dangerous activity I will engage in is a drive of around 120 miles. Most people would never even think of that drive as dangerous, yet of the two activities that I chronically do, it is actually the more dangerous both to me and to those whom I may meet on the road. Especially since I seem to have bad reactions to driving to the point of nearly falling asleep on the road to work several mornings a week.

Today I wonder what the right questions to ask are. What I mean is what questions will lead me to truth. To living better. To being a better person. Maybe even to being a better writer.
The first question I have asked is this: Why do I continue to not put in the work necessary to change from my current job that is quite literally destroying my body?
Laziness is the answer I give, but even that answer is lazy. Fear, I think drives part of the reason I stay where I am. I'm afraid to change, afraid that if I dream and don't reach my dreams that I will be crushed.
So I continue to wander in a desert that I know, even though it is getting dryer, and I'm daily less able to survive or leave the desert.
Then there is the panic porn that is being purveyed on our society with regard to COVID. Why?
What reason is there for the government to continue to push the panic button this far into the course of this issue? I read a column that said we ought to declare victory and stop all the panicking.
I'm more of the opinion that we have to admit a qualified defeat. That is that we have to admit that we will not ever be free from SARS-COV2 (AKA COVID 19) as it is now free and infecting people and mutating at a rate that one would expect from a virus. So it will continue to elude us, some will die from it. Some will die from auto accidents this year. To continue to live a full life one needs to be willing to accept a certain level of risk. I hope I live a long life. But more than that I hope I live a full life, that I learn to face my fears and move on to a new and better job, whatever that may be. I hope I find something that doesn't leave me so exhausted that I can't write after I get done with it. I hope I find something that doesn't require enough processing power that I can't think and imagine new stories (even if they never get written or published) and I hope that I can finish something well enough to believe that it is worthy of asking for money from readers for it.

Finally I leave you with this:
"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be "cured" against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals."

C.S. Lewis

I'm poor because I planned poorly and did stupid on steroids when I was younger. I know this is my fault, and I'm attempting (with little success) to rectify the situation. The big problem I'm facing now is tracking my spending. I'm sure the pie hole is still the biggest hole in the budget. But for me to write a 'budget' then not track my actual spending to categories is only slightly less fictional than a congressional budget. Less fictional because unlike congress (both parties have their favorite 'charity' to be supported with borrowed money) I cannot, and do not send money that I do not have.

Thus some hard words are going to be exchanged again with my mother. Tonight I came in and she announced she is out of heating fuel (it is my responsibility [IDK exactly how that came about] to provide heating fuel) but I have no money because my motorized roller-skate broke and must be either replaced or fixed.

Part of the hard words we are going to have are going to be about her wanting to travel 50+ miles to church (and just guess who is supposed to take her there) if you guessed me, you got it in one. This will be an all day trip, 'cause she wants to see her grandchildren (I do understand that) and visit an evening service while in town. Now I can't shop for anything that needs to stay cool (not that I'm apt to anyway) or much other shopping, 'cause if my mom gets out of the car (Truck) she will be lost in the store and even ignore a page (can you page people any more?) so I of course worry about whether or not she has fallen, left the store, etc. while trying to find her. And because of COVID there aren't even benches to sit on, and my mom refuses to use a store 'motorized cart' to ride around on though I'll hear all about how hard it was for her to get around. Also because the AC doesn't work in the truck I don't want to leave her in the truck, which she refuses to understand.