Right now, like I said before, I feel like I am grieving for my father in small pieces.
Eventually, I will increase the pace. Of that I am certain. It’s just that this is brand new territory for me. I have done no major grieving up to this point.
The closest I have come to serious grief (if you know what I mean) before now was when Robin Williams died.
There are the times each of my grandparents died. But I was never close to any of them. I was away when my Meme died. I was home when my Pepe died but that was in the middle of when I was a very sick man, both physically and mentally, in my early 20’s. And I was never close with him, either.
My mother had her original family and her married family and for the most part kept us compartmentalized from one another.
I regret that a lot now. I wish I had been closer to my Meme and Pepe and my uncles and aunts and cousins and such.
Who knows, if I had hung in there and gone to enough events, I might have gotten over my social awkwardness and finally gotten properly socialized for once.
That could still happen if I ever decided to move back home, I suppose.
And every now and then, it tempts me. When I get homesick and I miss my family and think about how I have this enormous extended family back home and how nice it would be to meet them and know them and be a part of that.
And I am sure my $1185/month disability check would go a lot further in Summerside than it does here. I would just pay the $500/month in rent that I currently pay to Joe to my mother instead.
No way would I freeload if there was literally any choice.
Of course, to stay on BC disability, I would need to have someone here take care of things for me. Or I would have to get on PEI’s equivalent.
Some day, perhaps, I will move back. Most of us expat Islanders do. The Island is in our blood, and eventually it starts calling to us, and we return.
And most of my so-called lifestyle is very portable. Doesn’t really matter where I plug in my computer and get WiFi. I can blog and play video games wherever.
But I sure would miss my friends here.
I guess that’s life, though, really. Sooner or later, it will be impossible to be with all the people you want to be with. It’s always going to be a choice between different groups who will miss you when you are gone.
For example, there was a time when all my hanging out as Fruvous time was done on IRC, in a channel called #softpaws. And I had a lot of friends there, just like I have a lot of friends on Tapestries, and no doubt when I switched back to Taps, there were a lot of people who missed having a certain silly little fluffy foxy around.
But I can’t take on the responsibility for everyone’s emotions. Part of me wants to. I am a very sensitive dude and hates to think of causing anybody pain for any reason.
But too much of that and you lose track of yourself and who you really are.
And part of me finds THAT appealing. There are times when I would given anything not to have to be myself any more.
At the end of the day, though, I am me, whether I like it or not.
Might as well get used to the idea.
More after the break.
Don’t feel much like going to FRED right now.
Mostly feeling kinda grumpy and sour. My head hurts and I’m slightly dizzy and I have enough gas to float the Goodyear blimp.
The headache is probably a sinus thing. I will see what I can do to get those motherfuckers to drain. Over the years, I have learned many way to trick them into letting go of their deadly cargo.
Like clearing out my ears. Gives the pressure somewhere to go.
Oh, I haven’t completed my tale of woe from last night. Believe it or not, my meal misfortunes were not over with ordering my food via Foodora.
SO I manage to finally order. The delivery person arrives, hands me a bag, and leaves. I open the bag and immediately know it’s not the right order.
I ordered Scrambled Eggs With Beef and a Mango Pudding. This was some kind of fried rice and a whole whack of dumplings.
So I immediately hop on to their support text chat thingy, and tell them about the mistake. They say they will be happy to fix the mistake… just as soon as I send them a picture of the order I got.
What the considerable amount of fuck?
I tell them I can’t do that because I don’t have a cell phone or a digital camera. They say they can’t do anything without the pic. I grumble and tell them if that’s the case, I am going to just eat what got delivered. They say that’s fine because even if I had been able to send a pic, they would have let me keep the original delivery anyhow.
I am not a happy camper at this point but I figure WTF.
But then I take another look at what got delivered and realize both fried rice and dumplings contain shrimp, and I can’t eat shrimp. I am allergic to it.
So now I am SUPER pissed off, and I fire off an email explaining to Foodora that I want a full refund because I refuse to pay for food which is toxic to me.
I then order some goddamned Pizza Hut. Good ol reliable Pizza Hut.
It all ends well, however. This morning. Foodora emailed me back with a full refund plus an extra $20 credit to my account.
So consider me mollified.
But it still boggles my mind how ordering food on a Saturday night has turned into this stressful and complicated thing all of a sudden.
I shudder to think what the universe has in store for me next week.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.