Sunday, February 9, 2014

Well... hi there

Gods, it feels like it's been forever since I've written here. No real excuse, I just kinda forgot this blog even existed. All those ramblings on "gosh, what is this blog even for? ... I dunno" really drove the point home in my mind that, well, if I'm going to be silly enough to blog without a purpose, then why should I be blogging at all?

But I do want to start up (again) with the working on my writing, showing my life to whatever random people (nobody) would be interested in seeing what the bits of my life are like that I share, etc. I do feel that a chunk of my life purpose is to provide a living example- here's who I am, see how I'm unconventional and live an awesome life and find awesome people to love me anyways, etc.

Fuck it. The real reason is I need something to convince myself that I'm being productive while I'm being held at loose ends indefinitely here. Why? Well.... Hold on while I dump a bucket of word vomit, feel free to give none of the shits, etc.

So on my 2nd anniversary of being part of the glorious USAF (January 17th), I got told that due to the force shaping (aka kicking people out because Congress wanted to shrink the military budget), I was going to get the boot. Still don't know exactly when I'm going to be gone, I'm not able to start completing any outprocessing actions (outprocessing = mounds and mounds of paperwork for arranging shit like how much pay you're entitled to, taking care of unused leave, getting a last free medical checkup, etc), so I'm left in uncertainty mode- all I can do is put as much money into savings as possible and think up distractionary techniques.

No, I don't have a 'real' plan- since I sincerely doubt it's a good idea for me to decide on anything permanent while I'm in this much stress and mostly spending my days drunk. My plan is to crash on a friend's couch and do the housework for him and his roommate until I can figure out a better. Assuming I ever figure out a better, instead of drifting around looking for things out of life besides the career ladder. Honestly, I don't see myself wanting to go the career path; I'd rather grab a job (clock in, do work, clock out just sounds so much better to me) and write on the side (assuming I can ever get myself to write, that is).But of course everybody in my work environment is trying to give me advice for the career path because they all think that's the best thing that a person could strive for, and.... nah.

So, yeah. Right now I'm focusing on saving money, spending as much time with my boytoy (hereforth known as Bastard- his mother was a hamster, and even if his father had wanted to do the right thing by her, it wouldn't exactly have been a legal marriage, so... We have that kinda playful jibing relationship) as possible before I have to leave him, and drinking the stores of mead I've collected over here in Germany while I can (this last because us military stationed over here can drink at 18, per host nation law, and I'll be sent to the states before that magical 21st birthday).

Gods, Bastard... It actually kinda scares me how much in love with him I am. He isn't perfect, but he's the kind of awesome that transcends mere perfection. I wish I could describe him without sounding absolutely trite, but my tongue/fingers get all twisted up and I start reciting "thoughtful, sweet, gorgeous", which obviously does no good at all. Bah. Trust me, he's amazing, I'm not sure what I'm going to do without him as emotional support (seriously, he gives top quality cuddles, plus I can literally tell him anything and everything and he'll accept all of it), and...

Well, I don't want to end life right now- I want as much time with Bastard as I can get. After a couple days in the states, though, I really don't know how badly the suicide ideation is going to hit me (recently, my suicide ideation has become disassociated from my depression, which feels freaking weird from both angles), and it's going to be easy as hell for me to go through with it then. I'll have made up a will sometime before I leave (hey, getting all I can out of the AF before I go), I'll have switched over to veteran's group life insurance which will pay out for suicides (and how weird is that, when I researched that and actually found that to be true, that literally made my day, that I could die of obvious suicide and not have to worry about the claim being rejected), and I already have a tiny scalpel blade, but it will be SO easy to find better knives, or a gun, in the states, that I can just have laying around in my area because I want them. Fyi, military doesn't work like that, at least not if you live on base- you're not allowed to bring weaponry onto base. Bad juju there.

Lately, suicide hasn't been about "I hurt and I need it to stop". The thought of suicide translates emotionally to joy for me- "Yay I get to flee all these bullshit concerns!" if I had to put a thought pattern to it, but all I think of when daydreaming about a bullet to the brainpan, squish, is straight joy. And I am okay with this. And I can't say this to anybody besides Bastard without having to worry about them freaking out at me, telling other people on my facebook, possibly finding a military-affiliated friend who would feel duty-bound to report me to leadership, who would then mandatorily sentence me to counseling, put me under surveillance, all sorts of negative consequences... And as a civilian, I don't have to worry about that! It's a beautiful realization.

Meh. Suppose I should end on a positive note, but the word vomit bucket is suddenly running dry, so... You can probably expect a bit more in the way of updates at least, dear imaginaries?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Even if the post is a gazillion years old, feel free to comment ^.^