Ice cream or booze?

As in death by.

I try not to be a drama queen..okay, so there have been a few times, but for the most part, I keep my whining to myself. A couple people I know on FB are continually posting all their woes and how depressed they are and this ailment is kicking up and that thing is rotten and...and... You know, I'm not a fan of Dr. Phil, but there are times when I want to say, you know...everyone has depression and fits of suicidal mania, get over yourself and move on. but I don't. Unlike Dr. Phil, I know everyone's different, everyone has  different issues and depth of character, depression, and resources. Lately though, I feel like everything is closing in  I'm old, fat, unable to do the things I want to do, stuck in a pointless job shuffling papers for people who could give a shit in the longrun--and this crew likes me betther than any I've ever worked with. I keep on trying to get back in the SCA, but R doesn't really want to, the boy doesn't really care, and truth be told not one single person except the couple I introduced to the SCA a couple years ago would give a flying shit if I stepped off the Congress Avenue bridge tomorrow. Some of that is my own fault, I know, but it still begs the question, why? Why bother trying to go play with a bunch of people who could care less about you than a fire ant mound? I don't have enough money really to play, we only have one car, so even if I did, I can't go leave R without the car for the weekend.

I know this sounds like a rambling pity-party, but after crying myself silly this afternoon and sleeping till 8:30, I really am wondering why am I bothering worrying about making costumes, etc. when in the end I won't have a reaons to wear them.

And all this typing is really making the shit in my thumb flare up. *sighs* Fuck it. I'm going to go do laundry...and see if I can find a 5-gallon bucket of ice cream. I hate the feeling too much alcohol gives me.