…No soft cheese of any kind.

I got triggered.  I don’t know what caused it, but I’m not in the mood to linger on it.  I’m super tired from not sleeping well (in a strange place.)  I’m debating about going to Denver to ride this out.  I’m trying not to let myself give in to the urge to be Negative Nancy.  I know it’s one of The Depression Monster’s automatic weapons, so giving in means letting that bastard win.  Not happening.  I’m off work this week, but I think I’d be better off skipping a nap and sleeping well tonight.  Swimming will probably help.

I’m starting to realize what will get me to finally move to Denver;  Issues with the VA hospital here.  For some reason, getting decent care is iffy for me at the VA here.  From my perspective, it seems as if it merely depends on the mood of whomever I see.  Of course, I suspect racism whenever a caregiver mistreats me.  I scrutinize a list of possible reasons, but it almost always results in cause unknown.  Racism is easiest to detect based on experience, but it’s rarely the reason.

You can see why I concluded it’s a mood issue.  I find it ironic and frustrating.  It contributes heavily to my desire to replace all humans but nurses in most medical environs with AI, starting with psychiatry and psychology.  A human psychologist is offensive to me because it’s intrinsically half-assed.  I’m disgusted by partial effort, but it doesn’t blind me to the fact psychologists can get good results despite being hobbled.  I just know AI would do better due to being less fettered.  Moods;  They’re finding me in a bad one.

I just realized what triggered me.  I heard sirens while in Mexico City.  They still use the version we used in the US years ago.  I used to have a panic attack anytime I heard sirens.  It sucked.  It basically dictated where I could live peacefully.  Now, the newer siren sound doesn’t trigger me anymore.  At most, I get a sinking sensation that passes quickly.  (I suspect it’s genetic by now.)  When I hear sirens, a switch is flipped in my brain that signals my body to expect sudden death.  Good times.

This may be common, or it might be a quirk.  I don’t know (because people don’t like being asked if they feel a sinking sensation and impending doom whenever they hear sirens.)  It’s baffling.  They act as if my next question will be, “Do you think anyone will hear you scream?”  So it’s in the I wonder bin.  I saw a GI in the Denver airport and thought to myself, “OMG!  He’s so young!”  Then I remembered I’m old.  I finally understand why I almost got sent home before basic training (because nobody believed I was 17.)  Imagine how offended I was.

I pulled out my group photo of my basic training unit earlier.  I’m the only person smiling in the entire photo (53 people.)  (It was before I got the memo informing POC and soldiers not to smile in pictures.)  I looked pretty young back then, I guess.  I think it had more to do with how I behaved.  I was still very much a child at 17.  I’m the one who was taken home with a Drill SGT over a weekend to play barbies with her daughter, (because she knew I would get my ass kicked if she turned her back too long, but I didn’t know this at the time.)

I hope this passes quickly.  Tomorrow, my first bass guitar arrives.  It’s a lightly used Dean acoustic electric.  I love creating electronic music, but I would rather spend time with the actual instrument than my computer.  Creating sounds on my computer is awesome, but I only like to do it when it’s a sound I can’t produce for $200 (and some time on YouTube learning how to play.)  My first guitar was easily mistaken for a toy.  I’ve learned a few things since, and am looking forward to studying bass.  I have so much material in my head that I sometimes play on guitar while wishing it was lower pitched.

I use the bass pedal far more than the drummers I’m playing along with.  I think I have double bass pedal envy.  Okay, subtract the I think part.  I’m not ready for it, so I just use the shit out of my single pedal.  I need to anchor the padding beneath my kit because I keep inching forward and to the left.  When I try to drag it back into place, the puzzle piece connections get strained.  I’ve adjusted my hi-hat pedal so much it looks like someone was bored and had an ice pick.

Okay, I think I’ve distracted myself out of panicking.  Whew.  Sorry about the rambling.  I just finished Imagica by Clive Barker.  It was an incredible journey.  I’m still on a witches and magic streak but in such wildly different and unexpected ways.  It’s fascinating.  I’m reading Terminal World by Alastair Reynolds now.  I started laughing when witches were mentioned.   They seem to be everywhere.  I like them far more than vampires because they’re so Sappho.  (Women don’t automatically put me in combat mode, except for Ann Coulter.)  I’m off to read.