Monthly Archives: November 2016

The Last Priddy

I am the last person in my branch of the family.

Whether I die last, or my sibling, our family ends. Yes… I feel horrible about that. But there is nothing I can do to change it. I am a proud, direct descendant of a yeoman on the HMS Victory at Trafalgar. If you study English history, you know about Pride’s Purge. Yup… I am a direct descendant of him. The Prides, and the Priddys merged long ago. I even have the official Pride shaving mug.

And, I am a Macdonald. Look it up.

Mt grandfather fought for the US (he was an English citizen) in World War 1. My father, in World War 2.

My father was at Ohrdruf on April 7, 1945, and Buchenwald a few days later, to help with humanitarian needs.

I heard many stories from WW2… some were not so pleasant.

OMG…I just remembered something my father told me… giving soup to prisoners who had no chance of living, and they would say “Thank you” in English, and smile.  Mere skeleton and skin, and they were thankful.  I was 10 when I first heard the whole story.

and it is making me cry now…

My Interests, and Hobbies

My Hobbies:

I have been interested in photography since I was a child. I don’t get around to printing much though.

As long as I can remember, I have loved building models… and just about anything. I even have a jeweler’s rotary tool for slow cutting plastic without melting it. And I make parts from scratch.

I have a metal lathe and mill, and table saw, and all. I like to design and make things. I can do very complex designs completely in my head. I can calculate any dimension in a moment… when I need it.

Shakespeare, and other Live theater. That’s why I can still go to Ashland. I have seen a theater half full of high school students watching Midsummer Night’s Dream… totally enthralled, and laughing hysterically. We heard kids say they never knew Shakespeare was like that.

Formula 1 racing. World championship auto racing– NASCAR driver Jeff Gordon says he is not serious enough about racing to ever race F-1. He has driven an F-1 car.

Recently I have been enjoying updating my 1994 Honda del Sol. I have changed all the front lights, and installed a new, more efficient air-intake. Soon there will be a new 4-2-1 exhaust manifold. I want the car to stop wasting energy on pulling in air, and pushing it out. (I do know you can’t “pull” air, but it’s easier to say than to get into a pressure-differential discussion). The new carpeting is great too!

Writing is probably the most important. It is my best way of expressing my visions… whether it’s journaling, or fiction. I have started writing a book called “Elnor”. But I stall out way too often. It is a very complex story… creating a new society that functions differently than ours in many ways.

And recently I have taken up shooting – Air-rifle shooting at 10m – like in the Olympics. I had to give up archery long ago because my left shoulder could not hold up a bow. My Walther puts the weight down on my shoulder instead in it being pushed in. If that makes sense.

My Interests:

My mother taught me to be interested in all things… and I pretty much am.

Oh yes… and cats.

AND once a common nickname for detective was “gum-shoe”.

I Guess that was Wrong

I guess I should not have said that… I am told it will make things worse.

I seem pretty good at finding what makes things worse, but no-one seems to know what I should say. I makes me feel there is nothing I can say. That I have to get used to this life. I should be used to it by now… you’d think.

What should I do? I have problems recognizing threats. My brain interprets anything neutral – like no response at all – as a potential threat. When I don’t hear back, or the response is neutral – like “OK” – my brain signals to prepare for “fight-or-flight”. I feel this horrible fear something is wrong. Did I say something wrong? Are they mad at me? I can’t identify what it is, so fear takes over. sometimes I strike out at things… sometimes I vanish into the woodwork. Think Facebook.

All those reactions make things worse. But I can not see it happening. Lori will point it out after, and I can see her point. But I still feel the same… I would still react the same way. It is not possible for me to see it happening. Later I can always see I have made things worse, but I do not understand why. It’s not easy realizing my own emotions are wrong.

People’s reactions don’t make any sense to me. I do not understand what is happening… fight or flight.

That has always lead me to end up alone. Lori can do only so much. I can’t only talk to one person – but I have not had a conversation with anyone in years. Not more than talking to a store clerk, or the UPS person.

Give me credit for trying. I keep trying. Nothing is easy. I have to recover many times each day… depression and/or anxiety can take over my brain at any time. Dozens of times a day, I have to stop myself, and calm down. I say “It’s okay”… “Calm down”… “Keep going”… and other words of self-encouragement, to myself. It either works, or I crash out.

Mini-crashes are bad… But I do try again… and again. Why? What did Einstein say about doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result?

PS Thanks for the nice comments N.

I hate my Life

I don’t understand why people don’t like me.  L*** is my only friend…

I try so hard to figure it out… every day I go over and over it.  I cry about it.

Every day…

I think about the friends I had back in the 1970’s with longing.  They are all long gone from my life.

Every day…

I try to figure out where to look… where to turn for some kind of companionship.  Where do people find friends?  I have no idea.  I thot I had friends when I was teaching, but when I left, I never heard from a single one of them.  Not one email… nothing. 

I wasted 15 years of my life in Seaside, OR.  I came out of it worse than when I started.  Teaching was the worst experience of my life.  I wish I had never left Seattle.

Every day…

I realize it is no use trying.  So I cry.  It’s all I can do.

I don’t know what is wrong with me… though I am sure plenty of people would like to tell me.

I can’t have friends.  Lori knows this.  All I can do is sit here alone, pretending there is some value to the things I try to do.  But accomplishment has no meaning, and nothing really matter anymore.

Every day…

It grinds me down… I don’t eat… I go to bed early and try to sleep till the next day… when I get to do it all again.  It never changes.  Each day I wait for dark so I can go to bed.  the earlier the better.

 Only my cats are my friends.  They like me… they like being around me.  They are all I have.

My opinions used to matter…  people listened, and talked to me.  I ruined all that.  I do not understand how, but I have always ended up alone.  I will die alone, and accomplish nothing.  And I will not be missed.

 So I WILL go softly into night… in my own Hell.

Note: you can all write to L*** now about this.  She at least matters.