For what it's worth, I began pickling vegetables to hopefully prolong their edible period. I've done cucumbers, onions, carrots, bell pepper, and radishes in various combinations, so far.
Today, I thought that I would drain off the brine and reuse it on celery, onions, and jalapenos - hoping for a kind of spicy Cajun mix.
However, I'm rather exhausted, right now, so I'm going to table the repack until tomorrow.

Sinking into a steaming pile of envy...
The feelings burn, yet have no warmth.
Why would we not be thankful
For surviving, so far, on what we have?
Some wolf pulled the wool over our eyes,
And left us so unsatisfied....
Society is rife with fairy tales,
Built up like that fabulous bean stalk,
To put our head deep into these clouds,
And to leave us thirsty, even when it rains.
Trying to paint images in these short bursts,
I'm still relying on too much green -
"The Old Ways die hard,
And I have no moral to relate...
Is that another danger
Of jaded sight, Of blind eyes,
Or of hungry hearts snatching with hate?"

(attempted 2nd take on an earlier post)
I do not love you,
Because you are absolutely perfect...
I love you,
Because I believe it's best -
The best Way to transcend our flaws.
...and when our love wanes,
And our minds' eyes see only wrongs...
I hope our hearts, like warm ember coals
Sustained through "campfire songs",
Will melt away shoulders grown cold
To massage away the trouble,
In the hope that it is but a trifle.

Why do I love you,
Even if we’re strangers?
Why do I believe
That there are no dangers?
Honestly?
The unknown casts up so many threats -
Intentional, or accidental wrought..
So, it’s quite possible that my love can hurt,
Even when simple friendship is sought...
Yet... “A burden shared is halved,
And a joy shared is doubled.”
So, if I treat all, alike,
With love and openness -
Hopefully, together,
We can lessen the pains
That we create when we’re alone.
That’s why I love this universe,
And all the lives in it -
Because there’s comfort found,
In knowing that I’m
Part of something big.

so, i'm dissatisfied with the last 24 hours. I wish there had been more company about - most of the time was either spent tutoring or doing stuff by myself.
maybe, it's that I wanted to learn something new, and feel some intellectual stimulation? Like.. why is tutoring not enough to fill the company void? why is reading, whether online or in paper, or even TV shows - why do they not fill the need (to be honest, I did not try much of media, today)
perhaps, meditation could do the trick, too?
i wonder if this is still not 100% accurate. Maybe the unmet need is to feel valued in others' eyes - to have some type of validation outside of myself that I'm actually being useful in society. (even if that society would just be a nuclear family of my own)
If I'm forced to seek solutions (like our society tries to imprint on all men), there's the resounding cry to be of service and/or contact: - to structure the day so that some of my activities include and value others. "it's not enough to vainly hope that others will come to me"
Yet, that "insert yourself into others' lives" strategy seems to be at direct odds with the "respect our privacy" current. In one example, I do not want to compliment women because I don't want to be accused of harassment - providing unwanted attention. Another example would be to "not call after 2 a.m., because most people would like to sleep then"
So, I often talk myself out of attempting to contact and include others; because I have a lot of fear around upsetting or annoying them.
Even the simple events of trying to organize meetups, or offer movie passes, or suggest going to dinner - more often than not, they turn into abyssmal failures where nobody joins in. (If other people create events, there's great turnout - I just seem to have the black thumb of event fizzles)
Perhaps there's some weird conditioning, back in my past, that's created this craving for company. Perhaps, I'm just living under past expectations of how to conduct my day.
it still leaves me restless on many a night... feeling unfulfilled... and ultimately questioning my existence.

While perusing my memories, today, for the big port-out, I noticed Damaris Taylor had liked one of them. I spent some time, visiting her page, remembering what an awesome soul she is, and I paused to reflect on her last writings, here. She said some really powerful stuff... but there's no longer a share button, so I'll leave it on her wall...

Will anyone treat me to a meal, and their company?
...or even...
I've got some coupons from my past year's film fest volunteering. Does anyone want to help me use them?
---------------------
passive-aggressive me was hoping that somebody, anybody would make the offer, based on my week of misery posts, this week. No nibbles, there.
Part of me hoped the offer would be extended to join the 5:30's First Friday meal, yesterday; and another part was hoping that some group would meet up after this morning's 8:30 Western Trails meeting. Yet, maybe those are false expectations, considering how little interaction I have, outside of meeting times.
Another part of me questions if Facebook is even a viable communication medium, any more. Either their algorithms don't highlight their posts, or my past angry posts have put me on multiple block lists, or people just don't use it any more because of all of the bad political posts that they've had to put up with.
Then there's the basic circumstances of my life. I don't have a car, so you'd have to wait for me to bus to you; or you'd have to trouble yourself to come pick me up from Southeast Austin. I only have a couple of coins in my wallet and a negative bank balance - hence the week of misery posts - so I certainly can't pay for my food at the moment. (I could offer to give you plenty of food out of my pantry - I could even offer to make you dinner, if you don't mind eating neighborhood pantry fare...)
Oh, and I imagine that most people write me off as boring, or unable to hold up my end of an interesting conversation. I think some people think that I'm silent and moody; or lost in mathematical thinking.
-----------
Still, I wonder if anyone would care to share a meal and their company with me...

Now, I balk at going to the gym, because it's nearby the I-35 overpass. My mind is in this repeat cycle: "You should jump. You should just go out there and jump. Fuck the collateral damage!"
It's wondering if overdosing on my prescriptions would be toxic enough to kill me - that wasn't the case, back in '98....
All the justifications revolve around how little evidence there is, that I have any value in others' lives. I know the justifications aren't correct, because I'm still appreciated by my supervisor, and I'm invited to the weekly board game night.
My mind does not want to deal with living on a negative bank balance, for a week. It does not want to consider cancelling appointments, like with my therapist, because the money's just not there. It does not want to face starvation, because I end up lacking the time to make a meal, or not have the money to buy one.
It's spinning out, because of poverty, again. Then it gets slapped with the harsh reality that it does not know how to reach out. It does not believe there's any support network out there, for me.
That combination of isolation and poverty bring up all the suicidal specters... brings up those harsh self-judgements that I'm not appreciated, wanted, desired - "just some bore who can't get over hearing himself speak".
I don't know how to speak. I'm often the silent one in the group conversations. I don't go out of my way to impose myself into your lives, and start digging for juicy gossip bits. I would love to know all of you a bit better, but I don't want to force myself to do so.
So, I'm stuck with my suicidal thoughts, beating them back as best as I can. I have that paranoid fear to reveal that I'm having them, out of fear of getting locked up in ASH for a few weeks. Also, out of fear that everyone will trot out the simple answers to "check your meds" or "talk to your therapist" - all the while, while they're busy scrolling through Facebook, on their phones... instead of trying to connect outside of the internet. "Yes, I can see the irony that I'm writing that of Facebook...."
As I said in a post, an hour ago, I'm gravely afraid of making the calls, because I do not like the reactions that I'm already projecting on y'all. "People will scoff, at my peanuts of problems; and others will try to write me off as an attention-seeking clown." ...or.... they're just too busy to take the call, now, and they'll delay the return call, indefinitely.
Maybe, I'm typing all of this, because it's easier for me to process by typing instead of speaking - you know, there's that record of what's been said, whether it's shadows or harsh truths... Maybe, I should try Don E.'s "write with your non-dominant hand" to try to cut through superfluous phrasings...
At this point, I'm backing off from going to the gym, tonight. I'm going to try to focus on getting a better second job. Perhaps the venting has helped subdue the stinking thinking, for the moment.

I've heard the advice in the recovery community, over the years, that, when I'm this "discombobulated", I need to just pick up the phone and start calling people.
Yet, I'm still afraid that I'll get a lot of cold shoulder responses... or maybe it's ugly pride that I don't need to make those calls, because I still think I can weather this by myself. Maybe it's a forlorn hope that Facebook still works as a mass broadcast.
On a darker vein, I'm afraid that I will start to manipulate people, especially in writing monologues like these. "If I'm just passive-aggressive enough, I'll eventually get a response, right?" (Probably not the best response, but it's better than a vacuum.)
I also think on all the broken promises, on both sides of the street - "I'll call you in an hour", "Let's do lunch!", "That sounds like a great idea, and I'll get right on it", and probably countless others. I don't want to hold them over other people's heads like some guilt trip, but it certainly erodes at my trust that I can depend on that relationship. I would hazard that's true, even if I'm the one breaking the promise, because that shows that I'm not willing to take that commitment seriously, right?
I'm thinking that I'll head to the gym, for some late-night exercise. It's only one of the 3 days that I committed to, this week; but it's a start, right?
I once heard that the worst day to post on Facebook is Fridays, because of the end of the work week and all. Not sure how backed that is by scientific research, but most stuff here is not well-researched.

For the next week, I'm relying on my food pantry, and neighborhood food pantries, in order to be fed.
Part of me wants to finally settle down, and see if I can salvage anything usable from the wilted greens, and get to work pickling the various other veggies. I'm leaning towards some sort of grilled veggies mix.
Another part of me doesn't know if I have the energy to spend 1-2 hours in the kitchen, right now; pulling it all together. It's the part that just wants to crawl back under the bed covers again, feeling so defeated by this week, and so afraid that my future budget won't ever be able to recover.
I guess the second option is better than facing that nagging voice in my head that tells me I'm an ill-equipped failure, unable to deal effectively with society's struggles on the path to success. It wants to remind me, painfully, how I've lived like a poor college student since 1990, how I never can get my debts under control, how I can't save for retirement or even entertainment without seriously jeopardizing my essential expenses like food, housing, and medical care.
It's the part that constantly chastises me when I realize that I can't follow through with even simple commitments. It's the anxiety, gripping at my chest, trying to tighten up my heart to the inevitable point of a stroke or heart attack.
It measures me against everyone I see, and against what I've been told to expect; and finds all sorts of ways that I don't measure up... some times, painfully echoed in the criticisms, or even just the avoidances, brought on by the people around me.
Now, that I've had my little scream, I'm going to try to nap for an hour. Hopefully, that'll reset me enough to get to work on those wilted greens...

“My difficulties, my joys, my life do not register as needing your attention.”
- me, stirring my pity pot
...and so, I said nothing about them in my meeting share, today.

I want to post something, because I don't want to call anyone.
...so, there's a desire to talk with anyone, to try to hash out my current fears and frustrations - to attempt to be vulnerable?
...but there's also a filter telling me not to bother anyone at odd hours of the night, not to bother people who I don't normally interact with... basically, some weird polite/paranoid filter, I guess.
I'm really tired of "trying to figure out this life stuff", all on my own. I'm tired of not seeing a support network that I can lean in to. I'm tired of being pushed towards therapists - it's the modern age version of "locking undesirables up in asylums".
I'm sick that I still want to use the "angry white guy" reflex... so many people tell us it's inherently unhealthy for society.
(...and, with me all along, the thought, "Why not end it all?"... because I've been worn out by years of pain and struggle, even if a good bit of it is self-inflicted.)
My paranoid self thinks all this is mute, because no one wants to listen or reply. It tries to convince me that most people have written me off as worthless. It builds its case on the absence of prior contacts, or even the broken promises to stay in touch. It feeds on false expectations of how we're supposed to interact, made all the more false as the digital age mutates communication standards...
I don't know. I'm writing conjectures and such, because I don't know how to connect.

My day starts off with bad tax return news.
Coupled with bitter cold, gloomy weather,
All I wanted to do was stay in bed...
Now, future anxiety lights a fuse -
As our Senate shows its party tether...
Power abuse fears arise in my head.