On my drive in to work this morning I had a thought occur to me that hasn’t really before, but it struck me as a fairly accurate metaphor for how I feel on a day to day basis. Mind you, I’m in no way saying I’m even remotely a possession-oriented person, and I’m really typically a minimalist at heart. I buy few things, but when I buy things I need in life I try and ensure they’re of a substantive quality so that they last as long as I may need them. I also have no qualm with parting with things I haven’t used in extended periods, unless I foresee an immediate or near-immediate use for them.

I was going to write something here. I really was. I think I had something in mind to dump here. It’s long gone, though. I can’t dig it up quite yet. Whatever it was, hopefully it wasn’t important. I can’t fathom it might’ve been. I don’t think so, anyways. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I expect to solve the “Wireguard Peer Networks Matching” problem. So, there’s an issue with the ip addressing scheme on my home network. It’s a private class C subnetted ip address scheme. Your standard 192.168.1.1/24. It’s not normally an issue when I’m out and about because a lot of public network access points are using the far more generous class A private network ip scheme. Sometimes it’ll be class B, but it’s rarer. Almost always some flavor of Class A. But I think the solution to my problem lies in turning my home network into a class A private network. I think that’ll solve my issue largely, so long as I subnet it cleverly enough. So I think that’s the next thing I’ll work on. This is gonna get interesting.

I have so many opinions on so many things, but mostly I don’t really care about opinions. I guess that’s why I just so freely throw them out into the open; they don’t have any intrinsic value. A secret can have a high intrinsic value depending on what it involves. Just look at Ed Snowden and Julian Assange. They know all too well the value of secrets. Especially secrets of powerful nation states.

I haven’t spent much time on this lately. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, but truthfully I haven’t had anything to say. I’ve been sort of floating through life. It feels distressing, honestly. I’ve grown accustomed to the emotional purges of unleashing whatever is in my head on this blog. Going extended periods without feeling that sort of “pressure release” can be uncomfortable. Even if I don’t really say anything at all, just throwing something down usually feels at least a little beneficial.

Okay, I need to get this out of my system. It’s an incredibly irritating pet peeve of mine when people connect to an IRC server, join a channel, and then expose to everyone in channel openly the fact that this is their very first time using this protocol by saying “I GUESS NO ONE’S ON RIGHT NOW” and just rage quitting.

Bro. What. The. Fuck. Do you not realize that IRC is #IdleRPG? Fucking seriously. It drives me nuts. Like this little gem:

It seems like I’m back at the travel, yet again. All of next week I’ll be at least a few states over, technically, and it’s not going to be a good time. Sure, I have a lot of distractions I bring with me. I roll out with my Macbook Pro 14" M1 Max, Switch, and Steamdeck. Still, I’d trade all of that crap to be taking my wife, and my kids at least half the time (since they annoy the shit out of me sometimes and still need to see their mothers). I don’t enjoy the travel as much as I used to. For a while at the start it was a novel way to escape a dreadful relationship. But I’ve since grown as a person, healed, I’ve worked on myself and the parts of me that led me to that doomed situation in the first place. Once I was on the path to bettering myself, I discovered that I have a lot to be grateful for at home, and that escapism is no way to cope. Then I met my wife, and I love her so very much. I don’t get sick of her. Of course we get on each other’s nerves and annoy each other and sometimes make each other mad, but it’s never to any point where I want to be somewhere else. I always want to be with her. She’s my love.

When someone dies, they no longer get to advocate for themselves. They can’t state the position they took on any topic. They can’t defend decisions they had made. I guess the reason they say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead stems from the fact that the narrative becomes one-sided when they cross the great egress. I get that. I really do. My dad apparently suffered crippling depression. I’ve seen artwork he has produced; sketches and paintings, that have more than shone a light on the struggles he lived with on a daily basis. I’ve heard from many people that my dad was a very depressed man. The Sheriff finalized that when arriving at the scene of the accident, finding the seatbelt unused and the empty bottle of bourbon. I used to think that if I made it to thirty two years of age I’d have done more for my kids than anything my dad had ever done for me. Yes, I suffer from depression. The thing that keeps me from exposing myself to liability like dying is the fact that I know first hand what happened to my family when my dad died. I saw that even his ex wife broke down in tears when he passed, almost as though she saw it coming but couldn’t believe it. My grandparents were just absolutely disabled for such a long time. They bore the absolute brunt of it, and they were the ones feeling bad for me. I truly felt bad for them, because I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, and I hope to god I never do.

Yesterday I ate a small half of a cap of Ghost strain of Psilocybe Cubensis. To say that it’s strong is an understatement. I really didn’t think I consumed that much of it, though I didn’t weigh it, it could only have been a gram or two at most. It was small and light.

It came on slow. Confusion, wiggling vision, color saturation and hue pulsating and morphing. I thought the initial intensity would be an indicator of what I was in for. It was not. Not by a long shot. Shortly after that, I found myself needing to lay down. I was fully incapacitated, staring at god only knows, drooling, incomprehensible. I was rendered immobile. I did try and get back on top of the mushroom, but it quickly asserted it’s dominance and threw me back down on the bed like a limp ragdoll. It was interesting, to say the least.