Dangerous

A friend at work asked me how I was today.

I laughed and said that is a dangerous question to ask me.

She asked why and then before I could answer, she moved on to another subject.

The answer, of course, is if you are a relative or one of a handful l of friends I trust a lot, I just might tell you.

The Office

I like to go into the office. I get to see friends and interact with people in person, rather than by email or google chat.

Don't get the idea that it is easy, though.

It is a struggle, many parts of it.

Friends make it worthwhile, but how do I know when it is just too hard?

I suspect I'll just know.

Independence -- bah

My headshrinker asked me if I want to be independent.

If that means do I  want to go places on my own, when I want, without concern about whether the destination is accessible, has a bathroom I can use, etc., then yes, I want to be independent.

But short of a cure, a wheelchair-accessible self-driving car, a chair that handles stairs but also narrows to get into small bathrooms, or Miss Marvel as my girlfriend, it seems unlikely.

Sadly, those too seem unlikely.

So I told her I want to win the lottery and hire a butler.

That is also quite unlikely.

I think it would surprise some people to learn I don't want to be independent because they see me trying to do things on my own.

It's only because I feel like I impose whenever I ask for help. Everyone has stuff to do, so I may struggle at something and take forever to do it, not because of my need to do things myself but because I don't want to one a bother.

I may survive

I haven't posted in 10 days. That is bad.

It means, as you know, that I am struggling and I just want to go to sleep or watch TV or read comics rather than face my world.

Doing any of those three awesome things, though, tends to make things worse.

So here I am.

My side still hurts. I am going to my doctor tomorrow. It doesn't feel like a bruise.

It is cold and dark and gloomy.

The news makes me sad. But it also makes me feel guilty for leaving my newspaper friends.

People I know are unfairly challenged.

There's more, but I'm taking a nap.

Saintly middle manager needed

God needs some solid middle managers to bring his plans into reality.

And God does have a plan.

People say of tragedies great and small that God has a plan and we just can't understand it.

Not so. Let me lay out the three-part divine plan (the trilogy of the trilogy so to speak):

1. Let's make a lot of people (by evolution) and give them free will, 
2. Let's hope they rejoice on earth, and
3. Let's hope that all the people do good and go to Heaven.

After #1, the plan's outlook looks hazy.

Great idea, but unless the divine trains run on time, the plan has no chance of being fulfilled.

Illness, for instance, muck up #2 and can prevent #3. And I won't even touch on people whose lives are touched by real evil.

God clearly is an ideas person. This is where the middle managers come in. Not priests, I am thinking a choir of angels or the communion of saints. They could perform a miracle here, a healing there to get things going.

I was planning on nominating the patron saint of managers to lead the effort. But I can't find one. A patron saint of playing card manufacturers, no problem. (The three wisemen). Managers, nope.

The idea that illness and evil are repugnant to me as if for God the ends justify the means.

So I am sure God is just starry-eyed dreamer in need of a manager.