I got depressed again. Badly depressed.

But it looks like I'm coming out of it.

The lights and the decorations help.

The smiles on the kid's faces help.

I still dream of that day. The fire, the pain, the fear.

One of the things that struck at me was Him. The Burning Man. He haunted my dreams, mocking me, showing me how weak I was compared to him.

The other night, I dreamed of the Burning Man, and I ended up waking up in tears.

In my dream, I was sitting on my back porch smoking a cigarette when He came around the corner. He sat next to me, wreathed in fire and glory. He took a cigarette from me, and sat for a long moment, silent except for the crackling of the flames that wreathed him.

Then he spoke.

"I failed." He told me. "I didn't have it in me. I couldn't fight my way free of the flames, and I was unable to save those people."

He put his His head in His hands and wept tear of fire.

"I left behind my wife, I left my children without a father, and I did not have the strength to get clear of the fire." He admitted.

"I failed." was the heart rending admission he made to me.

I woke up crying.

Yeah, I'm just a bit irritated today.

I'm getting blamed by someone for something I didn't do, and the person doesn't wanna listen to reason, and for an even bigger kicker, I'm not supposed to communicate with them.

Yes, the person who asked me to let it ride can do that, and I won't go behind their back to do it, but it's still slightly irritating that this person can make all kinds of disparaging remarks about me and I can't even defend myself from them or talk to them and explain the who thing.

Oh, I don't blame the person who told me to keep my mouth shut. I have a bad rep for going off half-cocked on things, so it's just common sense to keep me standing back with my mouth shut.

The biggest thing, is that the whole thing made it so I'm kind of soured on ever taking another job like that again.

Now, I will admit, I am at fault in a few ways. Number one, I didn't go up the chain when it became obvious to me that what I was working with was not a finalized draft. I didn't just go ahead and walk away from the job when it got over-complicated. I didn't keep pushing certain things.

My biggest sin, was I didn't take all the problems to my boss.

I'll admit, the project got delayed while I recovered from pneumonia and damn near dying, but not all the delays were my fault, so I'll take partial blame on the time it took to get the project done. But I'm not taking total blame on the delay.

The other 3 problems, I refuse to take the blame for.

However, I don't really care about who is to blame for what, I'm more interested in getting the whole damn thing fixed.

Personally, I don't care if I'm working on the rebuild or not.

And if the person who is handling it all wasn't a personal friend of mine, you couldn't get me to revisit this project in any way shape or form. Not for triple standard rates, not for anything.

So I'm irritated, but it will pass.

I know I'm being childish with the way I feel, but in some ways I can't help it. I'm just so goddamn angry right now again.

But, everyone has a small childish side here and there. Mine's just a small angry child. :)

I think I'm gonna smoke cigarettes and watch Teletubbies.

Heading out to the VA today for sick call.

Something about all the additional stress makes it so my family and friends want me to go to and see my mental health counselor.

It looks like the massive dose of medication they've got me on to keep me under control isn't working as well as it used to. I'm having a tendency to not get sleepy, to lose my temper at stupid shit that stupid assholes do.

In other news, looks like I might be going to Hero Con in October. No, not as a guest speaker or anything like that. Just as me, with some friends. Thinking about dressing up as my villain Code Vatnya. Why not? He's old, I'm old.

Thinking about asking an old friend if he minds if I swing by and say Hello and talk to him. Wouldn't mind seeing Tony and Carrie again. :)

One of my friends has convinced me to look up old Ravenloft stuff on eBay, and it's been confirmed, they want me to run a Ravenloft game just for chills and goosebumps.

I think I'm doing it. I think I'm getting my head in the game.

This week, I'll see about taking some photos. I know some people wouldn't mind seeing me and the kids.

But, that depends on what I find out during Sick Call.

Honestly? I'm just mad.

Mad at life, mad at God.

I'm back, trying to get my head in the game, and hoping that I can.

I'm just so angry right now.

A long long time ago I came back from Desert Storm. I was still young, still active duty, and I started having problems. Now and then I'd puke. Whether I'd eaten or not. Some mornings I'd throw up, and what I'd eaten for dinner was still in there. I got told to "take this" and everything would be fine. I'd get tightness in my chest now and then, but when I went to DAMC I was told "you're too young to have a heart problem. Go home."

After I got out, it was still happening.

Ever thrown up and had the fillings get washed out by the acid?

My weight dropped from 220 pounds down to 125. See that picture of me? I weigh 180 pounds in that picture. So drop 55 pounds off that frame.

I went to the VA. I was told it was all in my head, to go home. That "Saudi Syndrome" wasn't real, and to "stop taking up the money real vets needed."

So I got angry. Like a lot of people, when I get angry, I get stupid. I just ignored it. So I threw up at least once a day? So what. So. Fucking. What.

Then, a few years back, I started having problems. The doctors said it was my heart. Said there was a problem with embedded metal. Yeah, well, it wasn't.

Turns out that it was my lungs.

See, when you throw up, you end up inhaling acid and acid vapors.

I was throwing up 1-4 times a day. Every day.

For over 15 years.

Add up all those wisps of acid vapor. Add up all those micro droplets of stomach acid.

So, I've got severe emphysema.

Now, I was a marathon runner. Not a wannabe, but able to do the 20 miles runs and really enjoy it. I took part in my unit's combat cross country team, and even after I got out I ran 2-10 miles a day, depending on the weather,  how hung over I was (that's another subject), and other factors.

So, I breathe from the bottom of my lungs. That means I have good lung volume.

Which bit me in the ass. By the time I was aware of my problem, it had progressed from minor, through everything, and into severe.

Into terminal.

I'm not afraid to die. I've had a good run. I've seen and taken part in some amazing things. Some joyful, some interesting, some terrifying, but all of them amazing. I've loved and been loved. I have children. I have friends. I've had triumphs and failures.

I've had a good run. Not a good life. There's too much suffering and pain in there for that. But a good run all the same.

Yes, I smoked. Yes it exaserbated the problem.

But it isn't what caused it.

I'm not a 70 year old man. I've been smoking less than a pack a day, and at one point quit for 5 years.

I'm 38 years old.

I have terminal emphysema.

I'll be leaving my kids behind.

I'll be leaving my life alone.

And like my father before me, the future I look forward to with such anticipation...

Won't come for me.

I can hear what you're thinking,
All your doubts and fears,
And if you look in my eyes, in time you'll find,
The reason I'm here.

And in time all things shall pass away,
In time, you may come back someday.
To live once more, or die once more,
But in time, your time will be no more.

You know your days are numbered,
Count them one by one,
Like notches in the handle of an outlaw's gun.
You can outrun the devil, if you try,
But you'll never outrun the hands of time.

In time there surely, come a day
In time all things shall pass away,
In time you may come back some say.
To live once more, or die once more,
But in time, your time will be no more.

...

I can hear what you're thinking.

Mark Collie -- In Time





tick tick tick tick

  Well, I not only sold the Fraker the Axe story, but I sold it as an ongoing serial to a magazine. Not bad for a new beginning.
  I thought seriously about abandoning the Warlord Ralts internet identity, then I remember how hard I fought against the Cease & Desist letter sent to me by Nintendo America when they released that shitty little Pokemon of the same name several years after I'd established the character of Ralts. See, that's the thing, the company KNOWS that you can't copyright character names (it's pretty sticky) and that my Ralts met the legal definition of a seperate entity with the same name (See the use of Luke Skywalker by the TV show Life on Mars, and the use of the name Nick Kane by authors through history) but still they tried to jam a Cease & Desist down my throat.
  I learned a lot about copyright law during that fight.
  Since the Fraker the Axe story eventually leads into the Fall of Ralts Bloodthorne, I decided, why abandon the internet ID? I like it, it's comfortable, and since the story behind Ralts is that he creates many and varied things, it fits my creative side pretty well.
  Well, still, I sold Fraker the Axe, and still retaining the rights to everything in it. It's still set in Shtar, still features the Lich Kings (I know I'm going to get shit from some people, but I'd just remind that a couple of publications came out featuring the Lich Kings FAR before Blizzard came out with their shitty little concept), still features all the fun people.
  That's the whole thing. I kept the story fun. And it just gets funner. I kept two running gags for the series. One is the constant "Have you seen an elf?" asked by Fraker. The other will appear later, with the following statement:
  "There are two types of people on Shtar, friend. Those who make sweet sweet love to the possibly magic sheep first, and those with axes. You, my friend, appear to be holding a common garden hoe."
  It's fun to write, and I needed that.

  I caught a cold, is another thing. My wife said if it gets any worse, I'm going to the hospital. I sound like a frieght train when I breathe. It also hurts.
  I've broken ribs before, and that's what this feels like. Like a snapped upper rib on each side, each breathe being painful and trying to stop me from breathing deeply. So I just knuckle down and power through it, breathing how I am supposed to, from the diaphram, from the belly, like my father taught me to do, and the feeling of not getting enough air goes away.
  All the damage to my lungs is at the top, so the bottom of the my lungs are fine, as as long as the major tubing doesn't suffer too much damage, I can keep using the bottom of my lungs, where there's insignifigant damage.
  Do I still smoke? Yes. Damn near defiantly. See, it wasn't cigarettes that caused this damage, it was a goddamn lazy prejudiced doctor who decided that it would be all right to kill me. So I smoke, because what's going to happen, I'll get emphysma from it?
  I know that's just anger and rage at my condition talking, and I'll probably quit once I calm down. But right now, each cigarette makes me feel better.
I   went running today. Less than a mile, about a half mile, but it still made me feel better. I'll do even more running this summer once it warms up. Until I spit up blood, I'm going to run. Until I'm choking on blood, I'm going to run.
  There are a lot of people here on MySpace that claim to be better than all other humans, and I hate to sound like one of them, but I have a hope based on past physical evidence that is in my medical records, and something my doctor and I talked about.
  I don't scar easy. I've had a six inch cut on my arm that required twenty stitches to close. I've got no scar. I've had a third degree burn the size of a silver dollar on my forearm (it actually seared into the muscle tissue and when the piece of metal pulled back, strands of flesh ran from the wound to the metal) and there is nothing but a light discoloration there. I broke my hand in five places, and was using it a week later, and only sufferd minor aching from it by the third week.
  I heal. Quickly and well. If I stop smoking, keep working my lungs, I'm holding out hope that maybe the same thing that heals bones so well might go to work on my lungs.
  No, I don't think I'm a comic book character. I just heal quickly.

  As a final note, I'd like to take this moment to admire my friend's breasts that she's so generously showing in her avatar. They make me happy.
  HAIL! HAIL! HAIL TO TITTYMEAT! HAIL TITTYMEAT!

  That's it, guys. See you in a day or two.