Frustrated

29^th of September, 2010

Dear Cassi,

Well, today was the first time someone referred to one of my comments on YouTube. They asked what their viewers were going to be for Halloween and I said "I'm going to be a fat security guard, because I'm a security guard, and I work that night." It's not a big thing, but it's the first time it happened to me. He did get my handle wrong "ice 9 rln o" as opposed to rln Zero, but you can’t have everything. I'm making the rounds if nothing else.

On the bad end, my webcomic is for some reason not updating. This is three steps away from more trouble than it’s worth. I know that I'll get it ironed out eventually, but this is taking a long time and there are many bumps along the way. I tried to get into my account to see if there was a problem and I couldn't, then I looked at the file names I had uploaded on my flash drive and found nothing wrong. This tells me that there is a problem on their end. I can't get upset over it, this is free, but I'm frustrated.

The worst case scenario is that I would need to move my webcomic to another site again. That's not fun, but I do have a few options. Having the comics cross sites will be one more pain in a jumbo box of minor aches. Nothing ever comes easy to me. I wrap my wounds, put on my business face, and get back into the fight. It really shouldn't be so much of a production to get this off the ground, but the bumps and jitters of modern crud production hem us into the fabric of problems.

In my relationships class we talked about arguments, and one of the things that jumped out at me was a random interjection. That's when you're arguing with someone and you yell something like "big bloody bookworms" to take the tension out of the argument. The idea is that once the progression of anger has been broken you and your partner are more able to deal with the problem. Funny that I used to do something like that when my sister, Amber, and her husband fought. I'd make cornbread, and they would stop fighting to eat it. It got to the point where I was making cornbread every day, but it was all I could do to get some sleep. I slept during the day as I do now, and they fought when I was sleeping. There was never a dull moment at the Neal house.

That hasn't changed much, Thursday morning Paul told me I had left the front door open and I could tell he wanted to blow his stack over it. As if he has never done that. This is a man I can't trust to put the dishes away without them having food stuck to them. He does stupid things left and right. Today I found that he had put the blender together wrong and it was stuck like that. I had to use a hammer to get it unstuck. Did I get mad at him for it? Nope, because getting mad doesn't unstick blenders.

Paul is the type of person who waits until both sides of the sink are full to do the dishes, then leaves one half full when he's done. He won't wash what doesn’t go in the dishwasher, and leaves the things that need the worst washing in the sink to get putrid. Every now and again, I get tired of dealing with it and go wash the sink myself. I always find slime and scum on the bottom, and then I bleach out the sink. The nasty never stops. I know I need to just do the dishes on my own, but I don't have the energy.

It's kind of like the dream I had before work. I was in a dark cavern under a blanket, and these things that looked like humans made of dripped off candle wax kept coming after me trying to eat my hands. It was a strange dream to say the least. I would swat at them, and like flies, they would whisk away only to come back. Finally I found a sharpened broom handle and that was some better defense against the ghouls. I fought them off until I woke up by falling out of bed. I sat there on the floor for a few minutes until I had collected myself then got up and went about my daily business. The dream was so much like reality I may as well have been awake.

Get well, Cassi

Richard Leland Neal