Sometimes I don't write because I am away from the computer. Other times it's because I have too much stress. This time it's a bit of both.
I have a wonderful new computer. It has a big fat hard drive, a big fast chip, wireless networking, and doesn't believe the network it's connected to is connected to the Internet.
So I sit on my old computer which is prone to freezing, crashing, and has no CD-R drive for me to backup to, but which for some reason believes in its connection to the Internet.
Then when I get on, I am confronted with people who make me want to take a large mallet and hit them with it repeatedly. I know I should be more sympathetic towards people with mental illnesses, being one myself, but WHY CAN'T THEY FUCK OFF AND TAKE THEIR FUCKING MEDICATION?
(Probably because they have evaded the mental health so-called services so-called system and have successfully made life a misery for those around them, including their children, without anyone ever introducing them to the men in the white coats. And not that I am advocating involuntary commitment to psychiatric wards. I just wish this particular person would get treatment because I, alas, have to fucking deal with her.)
