Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with my health or wound care or anything important.

I am just annoyed that my computer crashed twice when I was playing Morrowind despite the fact that I was playing via the far more stable OpenMW (for Open Morrowind, obviously) executable instead of the error ridden original one.

I have been using OpenMW almost exclusively since it doesn’t crash like the original executable does, or so I thought.

But turns out that switching to OpenMW did not so much solve the problem outright as give me way more leeway before the thing crashes.

Because I know what caused the crashes : I had way too much going on in the game.

I had enemies fleeing^[1], snow falling, other enemies attacking me, and I was shooting arrows at all these things (except the snow), and I guess that was just too much for my imperfect computer to handle so it shit the bed and crashed.

Speaking of shitting the bed (what a segue), I had another “incident” last night, and I was even awake for this one.

Graphic poop talk ahead, for those of you who had not figured that out yet.

I was lying in bed, reading^[2], at about 3 am or so when I felt the need to pee.

No problem. My receptacle was handy. So I peed into it, and noticed in passing that peeing was making me feel like I had to poop.

This happens sometimes. I fear that it means something is going wrong in my lower abdomen that is making my bladder push down on my bowels, or somesuch.

I do have that completely untreated umbilical hernia floating around in there. There is always the possibility that it’s starting to act up.

Anyhow, I didn’t pay it much attention, but then when I finished peeing, the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it got worse. Much worse.

Time for a trip, trip, trip to the loo, I thought. But the moment I began to roll over as a prelude to getting out of bed, I felt the contents of my insides squeeze like a toothpaste tube and threaten to come out, so I stopped.

Which was futile. It all came out anyhow, and I was stuck cleaning it up with the world’s most unlucky McDonald’s bag because it was what I could reach.

Normally I would use Kleenex like a normal person, but I could not find my box of Kleenex under all the other stuff on my bed, so the McDonald’s Bag was it.

And I think I did a rather heroic job of cleaning up as it came out so that not a lot of it actually made it to the sheet.

Some of it still did, alas, but it could have been so much worse.

Now I have no idea why things went the way I did. My best theory is that I’d had some sort of bottleneck in my colon that caused a substantial logjam to form and last next was when the dam burst.

Two things disturbed me about it (plus the event itself) : for one, everything coming out of me felt hot as it exited.

Not really hot. More uncomfortably warm. And it was strictly felt in my anal and perianal region, suggesting it was something about the substance, not the aperture.

The other thing (warning, it gets worse) is that what came out of me was not normal feces. It was that pablum-like substance that smelled, well, like a diaper pail.

A full one.

So all that has me worried about my guts. But I know that the usual pattern is that there will be no more events for at least a month, or however long it takes me to completely forget the previous incident.

So I guess I won’t do anything about it. Again.

More after the break.

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How much should I worry?

Because I never really know.

I get the distinct feeling that I worry about a lot of things that don’t matter at all while completely failing to worry about things that are, in fact, super important.

But I dunno WTF I am doing most of the time anyway. I just kind of stagger through life bumping into walls and falling down wells and getting blown around by the breeze.

I’m trying hard to wake my sleeping inner child up. At the moment, it feels like I am trying to jump-start a very cold engine. I put the energy in and get sort of a response but it’s so faint that it’s hard to be sure it’s real.

Was that the engine almost turning over, or just the spark plugs clicking?

I know a weird amount about cars.

All I can do is keep shunting as much of my enormous excess of nervous energy into warming up and activating my sad and somber spirit as I can, and hoping that eventually, I will rise from the slab and begin a new life.

One where I am actually alive for a change.

It’s a thrilling prospect.

At the same time, part of me wants to get into bed, burrow deep under the covers, and retreat so deep into myself that the outside world is barely a glimmer in the sky.

I won’t do that, of course. That would be like dying and I am not ready to die. I may not be all the way healthy yet, but I have found that stubborn spark in me that refuses to give up no matter what, and it simply WILL. NOT. DIE.

So I’d better get used to being alive.

I’m working on it.