Scooter Libby is a bastard and I'm glad he's gone down

It's been a tough run, these past few weeks.

While I am getting used to the pelvis that keeps dislocating itself, the twice weekly physio, the constant back pain and posture requirements, the sacroiliac belt that supports my spine and holds my pelvis in place while squeezing me so that any and all fat or tissue oozes over the top creating a muffin effect. Yeah, all that shit, I'm getting used to it.

What I'm not getting used to is the constant requirements for improvement, from friends, family, spouse, work.
What I'm not getting used to is the dissonance between my credentials and my personality. Between where I want to be and where I am.

I realised yesterday that I live like I'm in a novel. Like it ends in 6 months or 100 pages. Like it doesn't go on and on, and you have to account for that and plan for that. Fuck planning for it, I can't even acknowledge it. What do you mean it keeps going? Life is not a computer game. There is no predetermined final credit sequence once you pass the level. These are all concepts I am struggling with. Which maybe seems like something I should have dealt with when I was 7.