I just feel totally besieged this morning. My sense that I know enough to have any opinions at all has been scrambled by news overexposure, failed attempts to relate to the locals, general insecurity, and so much rehashing the past.

It's feeling more and more like Trump is going to get exactly what he wants: a case against him that's just hazy enough that he can spin it all to his base as persecution, and keep us all in gaslit shock for years.

Meanwhile, I'm about to uproot my whole life and move. Granted, to someplace warmer and friendlier than Seattle, but it's right in the middle of still reassuring myself I haven't lost most people's esteem up here-- if I ever really had it, and wasn't just conveniently in people's way at Transliminal. :)

And Parallax is a mess right now. I'm kinda having another Dark Night with it, where it all seems totally mushy and incomprehensible and flat, and any plot I write is just going to create another dozen complications.

I don't know. Work is still quiet and steady. Things are good with the family back in Ohio, though the parental mortality fears are setting back in again. Peg and I are mostly getting along okay, though a grumpy episode the other day reminded me of some things I still really loathe about myself. Maybe it's just winter, maybe it's just mid-life crisis.

I'll be okay. I'm already better for having spilled all this out. I just... yeah. I miss the old days. I miss certain people, too, even though just mentioning their names feels agonizing, like I just blasphemed and should go hide my shame under a rock or something. I just wish I had... some sense of orientation or advantage or real existential security right now. Hugs would be a good placebo for now though.