Finished Andy’s desert painting! I absolutely love my new light pad which really helps a lot but the waxless drills kind of suck. The point broke off one of them and it’s hard to wiggle the diamonds into place with them. On the other end is a regular drill only it’s skinnier than normal so there isn’t much I can do with that either.

Hopefully, we can mail Andy’s off on our way to drop things off at Goodwill. One of Wal-Mart’s free samples was a greeting card, and I used that to write him a note about it and what size frame to get and all that.

I will eventually do the “mystery” wolf for Eileen and mail it in the box it came in since it can be folded as long as it’s not tightly, and I’ll eventually do a small one for Kim (probably a cat) that I’ll mail in a large bubble envelope like the one I’m mailing Andy’s in.

In reading the entry of a woman, she was talking about how a former coworker had to kick out his mentally ill son that was threatening to kill him in his sleep (didn’t Molly once do that shit?) and that he refused to get help. Then he went to jail for trying to break back into the apartment and trying to hit a police officer. She said that when he gets out of jail he’ll be homeless and wonders how many homeless people are mentally ill that refuse treatment. And also, how can you help someone that won’t take their medication?

It’s very sad and disturbing as she said and I’m also wondering when the hell people are going to do something about the mentally ill. I think way too many of them pose a threat to us and it isn’t just about their constant and intense mood swings, constant lies, paranoia, and false accusations but the fact that many are dangerous, especially the ones that hear voices. Take that crazy bitch from Carl’s Jr. we encountered one time. She could have easily snuck up behind Tom and clubbed him over the head before I could warn him or jump up and tackle her myself.

Then one time there was this huge guy screaming at absolutely no one and nothing in the middle of a parking lot somewhere. He was angry as fuck and spewing a bunch of threats and swears. Had the wrong person walked by at the time, he could have easily turned on them and hurt them.

So again, when is anyone gonna do something about them and get them away from the rest of us? Many of them shouldn’t be living amongst us any more than dangerous criminals should be. I don’t think it makes it OK to force others to have to deal with them just because they can’t help being the way they are. That’s no excuse to put society at risk! Let them hear their voices and refuse treatment somewhere with those who are like them but away from the rest of us. I realize that not all of them are dangerous and are little more than just a pain in the ass to deal with but there are way too many that shouldn’t be allowed in the general population any more than rapists should be.

I think that more than wanting to know when and how I’m going to die, I would like to know if there’s an afterlife of any kind even though no one can ever really know this. But if I had a choice, that would be what I would want to know. Why? Well, because it’s not going to take me forever to die but if there is an afterlife then that’s forever, right? I would love to know if I’m going to float around in some magical, beautiful kingdom. Or would I burn in hell for some sin I supposedly committed on earth? Would I be reincarnated as another human or animal even if this makes no sense since it wouldn’t literally be me as so much of who we are is based on our memories and experiences? Or is it possible that there would be absolutely nothing which is what I prefer most?

I would definitely like to know what I may or may not be in for for an eternity because if it was nothing at all or something good, and maybe I wouldn’t fear death as much. But if I knew I was going to rot in hell or be reincarnated as a sex slave or something like that, then I guess that’s all the more I would enjoy every minute of this life I could and do more to live longer and delay the inevitable. I know it sounds funny but for some reason, I’m more curious about what may happen after I die than when and how I’m going to go belly up.

I’m still keeping calm but I just can’t see myself making it to May before the anxiety returns. The longest I’ve ever gone was something like 11 weeks but that’s very rare. If I get any more than a week or two off, it usually isn’t much more than 4-6 weeks, and I’m coming up on 3 weeks.

If the anxiety continues to come and go once I’m a couple of years into menopause, then what? That will be the big question of the century. Really, what then? Well, I suppose that if I was continuing to have these intermittent spells I could then safely say that it was either the medication or being low on thyroid, neither of which makes sense anymore. If it’s the medication or my being low on thyroid, then shouldn’t I be anxious every single day? I was low on thyroid for years before I was diagnosed and I never had anxiety then, but fortunately, the hormone fluctuations that come with entering menopause do make the most sense at the moment.

Just junk dreams this time around. Trying to avoid getting sprayed by a skunk, getting it on with a female detective in which neither of us got off, and then having to see Scott again even though I wasn’t in jail or in any trouble. At least I didn’t seem to be.