Life in a Two-Week Cycle

When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love

He never expected Anthony to return…

Three Ways – The Ways In, a contemporary romance in
Sydney, Australia, all yours on the cheap at Amazon

Amazon Australia          Amazon Canada          Amazon US

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      Hi guys,

      Another while, I know. It’s not something I love, getting in the mood for blogging, then falling back out of it. Fact of my life, things come and go, inspiration lives and dies. Macabre 1, Writer 0. Okay, I haven’t slipped into Macbeth’s brief candle (though that’s my favourite Shakespearean dose of nihilism). I will say that things look up, and continue to look up, but, well…

      I’m an addict, and go to 12 Step. Been going since before the Golden Crowned Lurgy hit us in the dying days of ’19. It’s been a wallow, turning up, stating my self-defined circles, sharing experience. Once, I got up to 82 days of sobriety… Then the drop again. Granted, a lot of behaviours have dropped, and there is marked improvement. But none of this was with an all-important sponsor, and I did little if nothing to reach out for one.

      In good news, I’ve found someone willing to sponsor. Even better, I’m treating it as initial days, a start of a long, long journey. Challenges now are pedestalling, which is going to end in failure. The latest conversation, redefining my circles, speaking some hard truths. End result, back to 0 days. About two weeks since my last drop, that one two weeks from the prior, the next, you can see the pattern.

      I know, I know wallowing in pity more than just a touch. But I find it disheartening to end up in the same place, when there’s all this wonderful resolve to fix it, only to slip again. And here I’ll call it out for what it is – difficulty, but improvement. Yeah, the slips hurt, the moment after fills me with hope, then a trigger into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

      Something’s working though. What I wasted is no more, places I went far from mind. These blessings are working, the 12 Step approach to God is boosting my faith in God and Christ. And here in this moment of hope, there’s the drive to keep going. There’s the possibility I’m gonna slip, whether tomorrow or ten weeks from now, but while I do giving up (or, rather, not realising I’m facing Everest), I do getting up very well.

      So, life’s not all doom and gloom. Poor player, step out for a holiday, you’re getting married very soon (true story). Sorry for the downs, long live the ups. And that’s me in this fortnight’s nutshell.

 

The Last Fortnight in Writing

      I am glad to say that I have been getting things done, very slowly last week, but much faster this week.

      I realised why I was blocked on The Ways Out so hard. The dialogue was stagnating. And dialogue being a strength of mine, that kinda hurt, especially given this is a book I really want to write, a change in direction from the first book.

      So, on realising the stagnation – and in true writer form, using it as part of the action and yes, dialogue in the pivotal chapter, I broke with it and got stuff done. More to the point, the action happening in an actual location, I left behind winding everything in and ran with the dialogue first, then chopped in the scenery over a couple of days, and got to the moment the characters were waiting for.

      And, in good news, started on the next chapter, with more done Monday and Wednesday, with hope to get to the end this week, maybe next, no promises (as much as the fiancé is bugging me for this chapter).

 

The Gaming Experience

      Yeah, in the last couple of months, I got really bogged down in Skyrim on Survival Mode. I will say I’ve been to most places, will also say I was fatigued down to 50 Magicka getting Auriel’s Bow in the Dawnguard expansion, but my vampire hottie sideperson Serana and I took care of business, and have since landed on Solstheim for some Morrowind nostalgia… at which point I’ve jumped into Morrowind itself, which is already in run-everywhere, sleep to heal survival mode from the word go (and has crashed at least five times – I love Bethesda games at times :D)

 

It Truly Shows

      No, it doesn’t. Because I tried to watch Kenobi but, after about ten minutes, kinda didn’t care. Maybe I’ll try again, maybe not, but… We’ll see. But Multiverse of Madness was brilliant, okay I have some misgivings, but (spoiler alert) Sam Raimi does brilliant work with the undead and evil spirits. As Ash says, “Groovy.”

 

This Week In Church

      Oooh, it’s a goodie this week.

      First up, a dose of Deuteronomy, where Moses proclaims the Law as within reach, not in heaven or across the sea to be brought to the people, and by living by it, the Commandments, we can return to the guy upstairs with all the heart and soul.

      Then, Paul writes to the Colossians, explaining Jesus as firstborn of creations, all things in heaven and earth created in him, the image of unseen God, and explains the perfection found in him, peace made by his death on the Cross. It’s rich, but these to me are moved to the side by the Gospel – the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

      Now, Samaritans did not see eye to eye with Judeans or Galileans, cool at best, full of animosity at the worst. In our white het world, picture Russians next to Ukrainians, or Isis, Al Qaeda to, anybody else – or this one, a married gay man to a conservative Catholic. Now, we’re set.

      A lawyer seeking to unsettle Jesus, asks what he must do to receive eternal life. Jesus asks him to read what is written in the Law. The lawyer responds, “Love God with all your heart, soul, strength, mind, and love your neighbour as yourself.” Jesus commends the lawyer, and says if he does these things, eternal life is his. But still seeking justification, the lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbour,”

      So, a man gets attacked by brigands on the way to Jericho, and gets left for dead. A priest comes along, supposed to serve God, right? He ducks across the road, and leaves the man for dead. Next, a Levite – from Aaron called Levi, the guys who sat down and wrote the Law. He ducks across the road, leaves the man for dead. Now, the ultimate outsider, not Jewish, unfriendly to Judeans, Galileans – or our Putin, terrorist, the gay man – comes along.

      The Samaritan is moved with compassion. He cleans and dresses the man’s wounds, bears the man on his camel to a nearby in, ensures the man is given a bed, pays two coins to the innkeep to let the man rest, and assurance he will return to pay anything further for the man’s treatment – and likely, check how the man himself is going.

      Jesus asks, “Who was neighbour to this man?” We should all know the answer: “The one who took pity on him.” The lawyer is farewelled, “Go, and do the same yourself.” We don’t know what happens to the lawyer next, but one can argue that his need for justification, pride perhaps, was healed – all because of a stunning example, something Jesus did very well.

      What can we take of this? Don’t cross the street, but tend the wounds. It’s harder, but caring is a rich reward for humanity, especially to those we don’t agree with. Something even I’ve got to get used to doing.

 

Ad Finishum

      So, there’s another blog. Maybe I’ll post in two weeks, maybe three, I’m still trying to get onto a cycle of exercise and stability – not my strong point at the moment. But, life can get better, so as always,

      Have a good one!

      T.M.

Ouch Day, or The Wrong Stations

When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love.

He never expected Anthony to return…

Three Ways – The Ways In, a contemporary romance in

Sydney, Australia, all yours on the cheap at Amazon

Amazon Australia          Amazon Canada          Amazon US

This post contains mention of suicide.

Please ensure your safety, and if in need, seek help, you are worth it.

      Hi guys,

      Yep, so far back to the three-week cycle. Okay, it just so happened that Easter was three weeks from my last, out of sequence post. While I’m here, happy He Is Risen day, but this is a reflection on Good Friday, or, Ouch Day.

      Easter was always just a holiday to me. Generally during school holidays way back when, then days I got to stay off work, then just another day when I wasn’t working, and the subject of some movie that Mel Gibson wackily claimed dark forces tried to stop (before the anti-Semitic tirade). Sure, I knew about the religious side, but, well, atheist at the time, it wasn’t until after 2018 when I popped publicly and religiously, I understood the Jesus side of it

      It was a strange experience, including a Tuesday and night in hospital, first under whatever good stuff was in the sedatives, and two Valium and an Olanzapine. Could’ve just been T.M.’s gone whack, but as I came to understand it, it seemed more I’d been born again. And by that Friday, I went to a service, took notes of the Rosary’s sorrowful mysteries, got the gift of The Secret of the Rosary handed to me, and fronted up to the priest to turn Catholic.

      It was an eight-week course, a read of the Compendium of the Catholic Catechism (a 150 page summary of the 3800 odd Catholic rules and teachings, only two of which I have a problem with), not just a switch flick, before splash day the day after my birthday.

      Anyway, what happened on my first day, first experience of the Rosary, the five Sorrowful Mysteries that commemorating the Good Friday side of things – Agony in the Garden, Scourging at the Pillar, Crowning of Thorns, Carrying the Cross, and the Crucifixion itself. And as it was at Holy Name of Mary, there’s 14 Stations of the Cross separating the side chapel from the main church, and I thought, “We’re doing all fourteen of these things?”

      Thankfully just five mysteries a day, but with these in the side chapel (along with a rather ripped Jesus with abs, and arm and leg definition to literally die for), as part of my first formal day in church, I made an association with these stations (as I found out Easter 2019, they’re the wrong ones)… More than that, I could see my entire life in the journey. So here goes an understanding from this incorrect journey, seeing Jesus as suffering to share in sheer pain.

      (Careful, it’s long…)

 

The Garden

     After the last supper, Jesus and the Twelve go to Gethsemane. He prays, but the others keep falling asleep. Worse, Judas, fresh with his thirty coins, betrays his master.

      There’s a lot of agony, betrayal, in my garden – childhood. Born fighting for life with my umbilical cord wrapped round my neck. Uprooted, bullied, mocked by close ones, at the worst sexually abused by three men. When your childhood is rippled like this

 

The High Priest

      Jesus gets dragged before Caiaphas, slandered by “witnesses,” rejected for his truth.

      Hard to say on this one, to be honest. Maybe that time after I freaked out at a school camp going sailing, telling a teacher what I felt, “I don’t trust anybody,” and as leaderly as he was, turning around in disgust? Admittedly, that should be part of the previous, but I guess the judgement side of things

 

Pilate

      Pilate is intriguing because he finds no fault in Jesus, yet still wants to scourge the guy, presses to set him free, but listens to the crowd, wimps out when Caesar’s name gets bandied about (he was sore afraid of Caesar), and relents to the crowd partly to keep the peace (the crowd be rowdy and riled up by the Pharisees), and partly to escape all responsibility.

      In all honesty, the teachers writing me off and condemning me back to the bullying I went to them for help with, the peer leaders telling me to stand up to one of the other kids I was with who was hassling me, but not stepping up themselves in a show of leadership. (Wow, this is deep)

 

The Thorns, or The Pillar

      Where it goes ouch. Really ouch, especially if you’ve seen the movie.

      By and large the scourging at the pillar is the hard slog of life. Some of us, a wilted leaf. Others, ending up with some ribs showing. For me, it’s the crown of thorns, my mental health. Bipolar, a psychotic episode, brain that runs a million miles an hour, embarrassing, stupid, past moments all on constant replay. Oh, and the addiction, which I think has always been there. Mocking, too, what fun.

 

The Cross

      The bit we all know, trudging up the hill with a heavy weight.

      Again, the hard slog of life, but the current struggles not the past. I felt once I carried two of these things, everything I’ve been through is heavy, sure it might not be as heavy as some, or I’m downplaying it and it’s worse than I think. Yeah, still a struggle, and comes with falls, sending me back to day zero and to confession.

 

Simon Helps

      Scourged and punished badly already, the Romans see Jesus struggling, so they force Simon, a Cyranean and total stranger to Jesus, to help carry the cross.

      In my darkest moment, though I don’t know how serious I was, I went into the kitchen to end my life. Bluntest steak knive ever, but I was at the moment of committing. That’s when something happened I couldn’t explain: a voice behind my left ear that said, “Don’t do it, don’t waste yourself.” Voice of reason? Voice of God, an angel? Either way, I just knew I could trust that voice, and I put the knife back in the draw, went off to cry.

      I put my jury out at the time, but came to believe it was the second. But why was I saved, when so many others fall? Because I’m a writer and can write about that sort of thing? Send a message to others? I don’t know. All I know is how thankful I am for that Simon of mine.

 

The Women

      The women of Jerusalem weep at Jesus’ suffering, but he tells them to weep for their children.

      Hard to say with this one, maybe the psychiatrist at St Vincent’s trying to diagnose me, trying to reason with me, when I was well and truly gone. Her face said it all, really. Concerned, caring. Unlike Jesus making a point here, it was me throwing the care and concern off, and trying to escape. But more on this later.

 

The Nails

      Back to the more known part, getting nailed to the cross.

      Something to do with my manic episode, raised before all to see with a placard over the head, “Here be the nutcase.” Or, instead of INRI, LGBT, knowing I don’t fit heteronormativity. The culmination of all judgements, my own, others’ who wrote me off, harmed me. Honestly, this doesn’t feel as bad as the dark moment, just a part in the whole of being human. But knowing the guy went to know suffering, helps me see him a little easier.

 

The Good Thief

      Jesus is crucified with two thieves. One, mocks Jesus, tells him to perform a miracle to save himself. The other, however, lays the case for his sin, says he is judged fairly, asks Jesus remember him in heaven; for his repentance, Jesus says, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

      I don’t know with this one. We’re all either the good or bad thief. I guess coming to realise I have an addiction, and making the way into Twelve Step (still haven’t done Step one yet). It’s still a struggle, sometimes failure is a week after the last, but I guess it’s getting a shot at the Best Place Ever because I’m still going to say, “I’m an addict.”

 

Mary and John

      Jesus is visited by his mother, and the beloved disciple. “Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother.” John goes on to make a home for the bereft Mother of God in his house.

      This one, I really don’t know. I guess I see the touching side of it, may have come across it in some form in my life. I think I’ll leave it at that.

 

Jesus Dies

      For me, it was being strapped down and sedated during my manic episode, where I quit work on the spot, hurried up to St Mary’s, pushed over a pedestal, and gave my impromptu sermon, “It’s all a joke.” Boy, I was way out of reality, in the hit of a very religious experience, and after the psychiatrist asked if I was acting out of character – I said, “You don’t know my character.” – I tried to walk out of St Vincent’s, but fifteen people wouldn’t let me,

      The one thing I learned of this, is that people who don’t know who you are, yet will stop at nothing to stop you harming yourself, are the very embodiment of love.

 

The Tomb

      Joseph of Arimathea pleads for the body of Jesus. He and Nicodemus, with Mary’s blessing, take down the body, dress him with myrrh and aloes, shroud him, and lay him in a fresh tomb.

      So, I woke up after sedation, groggy and bleary. Someone saw me, checked on me, dragged my bed around to the nurse station, gave me something to eat, then I got some Valium, some Olanzapine, and they walked me over to the PECC ward to stay the night. I was on a bed, with a hospital blanket, sure I would never get to sleep it as I felt cold. Yet sleep I did.

 

The Resurrection

      The next day I woke up in with some clarity: “You know you had an episode, right?” After an anxious wait for most of the day, the psych team met me, I was able to understand what my predicament was, and was let out to go home. I didn’t realise how born again I was, but yeah, I had another chance.

      So, I got some Macca’s, went home, called my psych to go back on the meds I’d swapped out (which I think led me to the episode in the first place), got to sleep, went to work the next day (very grumpily, but I survived), and on my newfound day off fronted up to church, which was so quiet, I knew it was my place. And since then, though I forget it at times, I go on

 

      And there you have it.

      I know this has been a long post, so thank you so much for your attention. I’m happy to say I’m in a better place than where I have been, my life being messed about as it was. And for this Easter, I hope you, your friends, your families, are in good places; and if not, I hope and pray you are able to find the way through, and reach a point of balance, even if it means you’re on three different meds so stay balanced like I am.

      Take care all, and have a good one!

      T.M.

Just One Week Later?

When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love.

He never expected Anthony to return…

Three Ways – The Ways In, a contemporary romance in

Sydney, Australia, all yours on the cheap at Amazon

Amazon Australia          Amazon Canada          Amazon US

      Hi guys,

      Well, I was going to blog in three weeks. Was going to jump to three weeks ahead for the Bible stuff, but still ended up turning to today. And admittedly, it’s a hard one to skip, so new blog today (yay you).

      How’s life? Well apart from the slow start to the week, I got asked by Thursday if I was okay… And after admitting I was having admin issues, I ended up having a good, productive day. Bit of a slip Friday but three quarters of the admin was already done, and it’s the weekend again.

      Another thing, not the best given it was a slip (okay, a few slips), but I realised I was scared and frustrated. Knowing it is something of a relief, and the share that came of it is me getting out of passing things off as okay, fine, not a problem – good old minimisation, what a beast it is.

      Also got my dining table sorted out, soon I’ll have writing space in my own place, plus somewhere to entertain peeps. And with the other half’s share of friends, there’ll be time for that. Only I have to put it together so there’ll be some frustrations (the entertainment unit peeved me off), not so yay me. Oh well, onward.

 

What’s In the World/Oz

      War in Ukraine continues, and I’ve been seeing stories of people from Germany taking in refugees from the war-torn nation. But that said, there’s things forgotten. Nobody seems to talk about Syria these days, or Yemen, and I wonder if the attention put on Ukraine needs to go to these places just as hard and visceral.

      Back home, there’s an election in the air, and at least four of the incumbent Government’s politicians are advertising in a way that doesn’t draw attention to their party, teals instead of blues, no logos, It’s like they’re pretending to be independent when they’re not. But, led by a pretender, it seems par for the course. I only hope things end up with a turfing, because the lack of climate progress, the years of debt disaster, the whole mess they made of Covid and aged care, and the endless photo ops, amongst other things. Stay tuned.

      Also, unicef sent me an email for the WaterWalk Challenge – walk 7km a day for 7 days, because people, kids in crisis nations (Yemen, Syria, Afghanistan, even Ukraine now) travel this far for clean drinking water, often in danger to themselves. Alas, horribly out of shape, but as one of my yearly charities, feel free to head over to your national unicef page and slip them a fifty for the ongoing works they do around the world.

 

The Last Week in Writing

      Well… Yeah, nothing done. This slog of a chapter isn’t writing itself, and after hoofing about a fictional kingdom and starting to freeze to death, nothing got written. I still don’t know what it is, or if I just have to leave it and let it all unravel in time. It’ll come. I think I just have to give it time. I hope I can finish, and the coming table helps with that.

 

The Gaming Experience

      Things went up a notch as I made my umpteenth pilgrimage up the 7000 Steps to High Hrothgar. Only this time I started freezing to death – the joys of survival mode. Yep, playing so I get hungry and have to eat, get tired and have to sleep, get cold and, well, start to freeze to death. (Yes, there’s snow in the game, so yes, areas can get treacherously cold). I got the frost troll in a few hidey hits (yes, I rolled a stealth archer again), and Lydia has been proving useful (my second horse got killed so on hoof now). Hoping she doesn’t die next…

      Right now I’m outside Ustengrav, the bandits outside are all deaded, and I’m ready to delve in past the necromancers experimenting on the bandits, then the draugr, and get that all important Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Yes, I’ve done this a thousand times, and about a thousand times as a stealth archer, and little will surprise me. Okay, I am a bit squishy but, well, onwards!

      Meanwhile, my train driving career took a stall when I tried Trans Pennines, got in the cab of a 47 class BR diesel, and had to juggle throttle and brakes. In a jaunting 200 metre trip to the station, I wobbled between 11 and 2.5 MPH, and passed a signal at danger, ending the session (yay me). Not that I was going well in East Coastway, I missed my 600 yard cue watching an approaching speed limit and sailed through a station at 30 MPH. Bad driver.

 

Today in Church

The Fourth Sunday in Lent, the NT gives to us what we call the Parable of the Prodigal Son, a story many are familiar with but don’t know the whole deal. (Similarly, David and Goliath gets our interest up, a fight over in three seconds; David and Saul, that was the real party).

Jesus is receiving sinners, tax collectors, and the Pharisees are peeved – isn’t the Messiah meant to tend to the righteous? So, He parables: A land-owner’s son takes his inheritance, leaves, lives the life, ends up broke; worse, a famine breaks out, he has to work with pigs and would have to eat from the trough, and he realises his father’s servants eat better than he does. He repents, goes home with prepared words0; his father sees him, runs to him, embraces him before he can finish speaking, and welcomes him back with a feast. Story over, right?

But there’s a problem. The man’s brother, who stayed with his father, complains that he never got a feast in all the years he lived there working hard, and rejects his father’s loving attitude, “your brother here was dead and now has come to life; he was lost and is found.”

Part of the story is the relationship of God with the sinner, He rejoices when one comes back to the fold, and exalts them. Part is the righteous agog their faith isn’t taken into consideration. Granted, God does reward their faith, but the joy of the one returning is a greater celebration, and touches on other Jesus lessons – the lowly will be raised and mighty humbled, the last will be first and the first last – stories for another day.

 

Weigh In

      The diet continues well, I’m getting used to the snacking, got the powder/water ratio right, still have edges of hunger post dinners – and the other night had a sugar craving that I not only identified, but sorted out with an apple. It could have helped lead to the admin issues… but also the late finish Tuesday, who knows. All I know is I’m committed, settled, ready to add exercise to the mix, and Saturday’s scale results were 121kg.

      Not sure how much is clothing related, still on the heavy side, but as early steps in just a week, it’s a positive result. Plus it might be raining this week, and I can’t find the upper body workout vid on YT, but there’s an upper body and abs vid so… yay?

      I’m calling yay.

 

      And that’s it for this week, you can catch last week’s blog here, and my next one… soon? Maybe two weeks, so I make an Easter post. Also, Deathnote the anime is on Netflix, gonna throw some apples at Ryuk :D. Until next time, have a good one!

      T.M.

So, Where Have I Been? And What’s With This New Stuff?

When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love.

He never expected Anthony to return…

Three Ways – The Ways In, a contemporary romance in

Sydney, Australia, all yours on the cheap at Amazon

Amazon Australia          Amazon Canada          Amazon US

      Hi guys,

      Yes, it’s been a long while. But being a long while, I’ve had a sort-of idea for the blog, which will work out into a longer format, but a wider range of things to view.

      So, where’ve I been since August 2021? Well, around…

      I’ve been in a rut, bouncing around in exhaustion, stress, depression, getting triggered, sleeping too much, letting myself go and eating too much, struggling with the writing. No, I hadn’t been on holidays for two years, even when Covid locked me down the second time. But throw in a holiday (except the sleepless day-long layover in Qatar, and three weeks of eating a very rich diet), and there’s perspective, rest, energy to do things…

      And that admin at work that was driving me down, hard to deal with, is suddenly “I can do this.” Life’s looking up, right?

      Yeah, life’s looking up, except for the fact writing The Ways Out is stagnating with blockage, and the blog I was going to issue last week was a sullen, depressive mess. But it now lives with the lost bits and bytes floating around in the ether, and I’m just pecking away until the chapter ends or the block dies. I guess it’s all good, and there’s drive to blog again. Hopefully I can keep this up.

      And here comes the new stuff!

 

What’s in the World

      Well, you can’t go far without running into the conflict in Ukraine. Putes the total Dictator wants himself some new land, doesn’t want himself some Europe on the doorstep (never mind he’s in the Europe side of Russia). I’d be empathetic, but, well, a guy who’s been in power so long, using the excuse of saving the eastern Ukrainian separatists to invade and bomb nuclear power plants and maternity hospitals. What a guy!

      Here in Oz, major flooding in Brisbane and Northern NSW, natural disasters not labelled until the PM turns up, but will he talk to locals? Nope, avoided the chance of rejected handshakes with some staged photo ops. Okay, the dude had Covid the week before, couldn’t make it until this week… but we have a Deputy PM, there’s Skype, and the excuse “The Army can’t mobilise at a moment’s notice,” is a con versus the epic response to Cyclone Tracy in 1974.

      What do you do for all of this? The leadership gone wrong, it’s kinda hard, I’m just a lowly voter. But for the people? I feel S.H.I.T. that all I have is a bit of charity, and thoughts and prayers.

 

The Last Two Weeks in Writing

      As I mentioned, slow progress on The Ways Out. I mean, seriously, how hard can this scene be? It’s a date scene (the only spoiler you’re getting), I know exactly where things are heading, it’s ultimately happy time, and yet… I can’t even word vomit. Is it because the context is against certain rules I now follow? Am I remembering the past for these characters and stumbling? Am I just not feeling it? Amen, I tell you, I don’t know. But I’m pecking. All I can do.

      And I had another idea. I’m definitely an author, I have ideas. And post world building, this time I’ve gone some character planning, and I have a bunch of characters with stories, motives, agency, and all manner of stuff. All that remains is to write it. But I’m already sitting in my omnipotence thinking, “You know some of them are gonna die, right?” Ahh, the writer life :D.

 

This Week in Gaming

      I’ve consigned WoW to the Over It pile. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t playing much after I hit the end of 9.1 content. I had my misgivings, and didn’t feel that up to Eternity’s End, another new world where I can’t fly with an off the bat jump quest, but with cute wombat cyborgs. But renewal was up today, so, ta-ta Blizzard, see you for Diablo 4. Maybe Diablo 2 if I’m feeling nostalgic, and Diablo 3 if I want to crack at it again.

      Skyrim: Anniversary Edition, and I’m rocking survival mode again (and yes, started the game again again). But, well, hanging out for The Elder Scrolls 6 where I’ll upgrade to the X-Box X – and admittedly, checking back in to Cyberpunk 2077 and its inevitable GOTY version, with all the hot mess fixes. Life as a level three stealth-Nord with a hunter’s backpack is admittedly good in Riverwood, but moving to Whiterun and getting a horse soon.

      As for the mods I was running… Welp, the game kept crashing, so back to vanilla. I’ll live with it, and maybe a companion because they’ll be able to keep up with the horse (I had fast horses, because vanilla horses are, well, slow). Maybe not, but I’ll eventually get hottie vampire girlfriend Serana. Yeah, I’ll live.

      And I say welcome to Trains Sim World 2020, and its already-evident flaws. Starting Main-Spessart Bahn out of Aschaffenburg? Can’t unlock the train doors at the start so have to get out the cab, run to the first door to open it, to get passengers onboard; also, I keep losing power on a hill. And Long Island Rail Road? Don’t set the M7’s brakes to emergency, or you have to charge the brakes at level 10 again otherwise you ain’t going nowhere. It’s still fun.

      Also want to record a Let’s Play, only the drinking game version. The drinking will have to wait until after lent, and the recording to wait until I get a screen recorder, so be prepared for some things on YouTube soon.

 

Today in Church

      It’s the third Sunday of Lent, the 40 days (well, 46) leading up to Easter, the preparation time for the Passion, the bit where Jesus gets nailed to a cross at the end of a torturous 30 hours. And since it’s Sunday, three readings from The Books.

      First up from the OT is the burning bush, Moses meeting God in a frightful, wondrous sight, and God answering Moses’ question of what to name Him – curtailed these days from its original, cryptic “I am that I am, that I was, and that I will be.” As things turned out, God was given a name, YHWH (Yahweh), kept by the priests with Lord used instead.

      Next, from 1 Corinthians 10, St Paul speaks of the Christian spiritual fathers (the Israelites) being baptised into Moses in the cloud that guided them (God) and in the sea (the parted waters), drinking of the same spiritual rock (Jesus), but most of them failed to please God. This is used as the warning the early Christians not to follow wicked things, and ends with the ominous, “The man who thinks he is safe must be careful that he does not fall.”

      Onto the NT, and two tragedies – Pilate sends some troops in to massacre templegoers in Galilee, and at Siloam, a tower collapses and 18 people die. Jesus puts a conundrum to his followers, were the ones who died greater sinners than anybody else, i.e., did they deserve their deaths for some reason? He says no, but still says that unless his followers repent, they will surely perish, or die to God as was the case with the fall.

      Things end with the parable of a fig tree, it grows for three years without giving fruit. The master wants to cut it down, but the gardener asks for another year, time to dig round it and manure it, and if the tree bears no fruit it can then be cut down. The priest’s take away? We have another chance to tend our tree. But an interesting aside? Fruit trees had their fruit discarded for three years, then sacrificed on the fourth year. Best be the best, tended fruit.

 

The Weigh In

      I mentioned a rich diet before. I had a very good reason for being in accessible range of fast and fatty food (I’ve been introduced to a fried chicken place with the tenderest fried chicken I’ve ever had – forget the sauce, I’m not a fan, but that chicken is to die for). But guess who gained weight.

      Okay, I was already gaining weight. The stress, exhaustion, scoffing large serves, and not exercising got to me, and weighing my bags for the trip was an eye opener. But I’ve gone on a replacement shake a day diet (the powder stuff at least tastes like I’m on a diet, so it must be good), turned into somewhat of a snacker (okay, lived the dream with smashed avo brunch and pizza, BBQ wings dinner Thursday).

      And today, I’m 125 kilos, and down to the fourth belt hole on my work belt, second on my jeans belt. Still early days, but the efforts have begun, and it’s time to exercise this week while the rain has dispersed. Gonna try that upper body workout again :D.

 

      So, a mixed bag, but I am a mixed bag with more than one interest, and largely less bleugh and meh. Better finish on the positive note. Have a good one all, and I’ll catch you soon!

      T.M.

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      Hi guys,

      Yep, I’m a week late. Forgot last Sunday, and slept through my window Monday. Still, I could blog again in three weeks, it’s still lockdown so there’s a chance, but I haven’t planned anything after this, and I’m not sure what else I’d have to say.

      A few weeks ago, I mentioned having trouble finding that God guy. I might be guessing, but I’m sure I’m not the only Christian, new or old, having that kind of trouble, falling off the prayer bandwagon, getting doldrummy. No, lockdown isn’t helping it, there being online services, no munch of JC, and no confession.

      Maybe I can do something about the last one, but I’m committed to lockdown, hesitant with Mr Golden Crowned Lurgy floating about. I’ll see what eventuates, but did the rosary with the GF last Sunday, we watched the Maronite Mass (it was St Mary of the Cross day), got back into the Gospel of Matt – there’s an interesting convert – and life is, well, a little up.

      And lockdown isn’t so bad with wine and Scotch at my disposal. As the man on my favourite greenback, Benji, said, “Wine is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy.” Guess it’s likewise of my favourite animal, the platypus, proof that God loves us and has a sense of humour. Love that little evolutionary throwback!!

      Where was I? Oh, yeah, interesting converts. Matt was a tax collector for the Romans, the ultimate lowlife scumbag in Judea. Throw in Jesus and hey, there’s the dotted I, crossed T evangelist. Saul of Tarsus? Straight up persecutor of early Christians, until his famed flash of light encounter with Jesus, and he’s Paul, powerhouse of the early church.

      Then there’s me. Funny story in the end, considering I was elated as hell and off my meds for three days, no sleep. But come a Friday in mid-August, having quit one job on Tuesday and had a very public manic episode, turned up to the other a day and a half after said episode, I opened the doors of my local Catholic church, got a wave from Father P, and entered into peace and quiet.

      And when your brain has been running at a gazillion miles an hour, you’re still on hyper comedown, that burst of tranquillity was one of the most amazing, transformative things I’ve felt. I thought, “I’m home.”

      But what was I, a science-abiding, bi atheist with bipolar doing at church? Surely I’d be crazy because only stupid people aghast at science go to the guy upstairs. I had a walk-in problem with two catechisms (out of 3800-odd, not bad). Must definitely be mentally ill to want to punish myself with a lot of “I’m unworthy; I’m a sinner; OT God is iron-fist absolutist, where is the actual mercy?”

      Yeah, I was kinda Saul of Tarsus, smarter than Christians because science was so provable, don’t need no pesky God judging me for my faults. Atheism had its charms, and I’d found a place in existentialism, here because we’re here, and that’s fine by me. Then flash of light, total transformation, done and dusted, right? Well…

      I’d read some bible, Genesis and Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Numbers, then flipped to Revelation and had the C. R. A. P scared out of me. I had to go to scripture classes in one school because no Non-Scripture, where I first heard about Moses hidden in the reeds (Hi Superman inspiration!). Religious Christmas cartoons were the thing back in the 80’s. I’d seen King David (Richard Gere’s nappy dance, lol), half of King of Kings, and of course Life of Brian.

      Funny thing one pre-convert Christmas service, the Priest’s microphone cut out, and “Speak up!” was my brain’s logical response.

      There was the time I asked about the patriarchal bent on Yahoo Questions, and got the explanation about the Virgin Mary. The service for my niece’s christening taught me the significance of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet (it was Passover, lots of sheep in Jerusalem for slaughter, lots of poop, and donkey-riding Jesus stooped over and served, getting his hands dirty). And I’d gone down the Stations of the Cross just to see.

      Still, atheist, more or less. One night at 18, though, something happened that I had to put my jury out on. I do have reservations saying this, but I think it was a miracle – which puts me at odds because I wonder why I was saved, when so many don’t seem to be.

     (A readthrough of Catcher in the Rye on Wikipedia sort of put it into perspective; and though I haven’t put it in prayer in a while, the thoughts of those who’ve taken their lives, who might have missed what I received because the pain is too much, still invoke sadness. While we’re here, kindly give them a thought.)

      Back out into the atheist pasture I went, that instantly-trustworthy voice bubbling away in the background. Then came the creeping mania brought on by a swap of meds; an awful YouTube argument with an arrogant so and so who said I denied Ontology (which opened my eyes); the acute sleepless mania (who needs meds?); the inspiration to find Jesus on Wikipedia; and the drive to solve 0/1, arriving at infinity, and there’s one of that so… “Hi God!”

       Then I went nuts, got policed to St Vincent’s, got the visit from the psych, tried to walk out, got strapped down and sedated, held in the PECC ward overnight, and woke up with the acute knowledge, “You know you had an episode, right?” No more the future is now, winning every Nobel prize for proving all theories right, travelling at the speed of our minds. Just a shaky reality with acceptance it was back on my old med, a rough Thursday at work, then off to Church the next morning, fronting up to Father P after Rosary, and saying, “I’m looking to be baptised.”

      What a ride that was, what a proper born-again moment. And what a touching moment, learning love was a bunch of strangers that don’t know you stopping you from hurting yourself when you’re acutely manic, and learning that first Sunday that people had been praying for myself and others in a fix without even knowing it.

      Where does it put me, three Easters up at about the anniversary of my episode? Well, I’ve built a team of Saints who I really need to get back to, failed some vegan experiments three Lents in a row, haven’t solved looking for God in the wrong things and places, and I’m still bumbling around in my cycles.

      But it got me hanging with the nannas in the reading group, getting some good formation up. It’s led me to look at relationships with a faith component. There’s forgiveness and somewhere to turn back to and go despite the falls. There’s hope and an urge to try for myself to keep going.

      Becoming Catholic hasn’t made me perfect, but pointed me in that direction. It hasn’t solved my Tweeter arguments, but it’s helping me stop posting some things. I’m not some Bible scholar or basher. It hasn’t cured my bipolar, hasn’t changed my sexuality, and hasn’t changed my love of science (the what and how flipside to religion’s who and why). And I quite liked the love neighbours, respect “enemies,” peace on/to/from Earth for a long time.

      It has just become a part of me, and I quite like the part I have in it, even if there’s more understanding yet to come.

      I’m not sure what this post has done. Maybe comments will come (still waiting on engagement, I feel like I tweet into a void). Maybe someone will consider a faith journey, and maybe someone will block me because of this. And, well, someone could’ve gotten to the God bit and stopped reading. Thems the breaks with this.

      I’ll let you go now. Thanks for reading, I hope you are well and safe in these uncertain times, and if you or someone you know are headed down the depressive path I went down, life so hard it hurts, reach out and seek help, because yes, you’re worth it, and have something to teach the world about your hardship, maybe in writing like me

      Take care all,

      T.M.