this redeemable life

basquiat-self-portrait

This is what I call a nice surprise while surfing my RSS:

“I’m happy to welcome Fringes and Q to my blogroll. They are both wonderful writers. I can feel a mancrush developing for Q, I’m telling you right now. Dude is cool. And Fringes is cute as a bonus paycheck. Her family is awesome. Heart-tuggers, they are.”

I was a day late in discovering it on Alan’s blog because I am very far behind on my blog visits. If you’ve been looking for my commenting goodness in your space, fret not. I’m reading, I really am, just not feeling like the most active blog participant these days. Blame it on the depression. I blame everything on the depression.

I have been off all meds for a year now. My crazy is being managed only by my BFF who has his hands full. I try not to get agitated by little stuff, but I am also no longer drinking, so Q must take his chances at the start of each and every conversation. As cute as I am, I have no idea why he puts up with me.

Going to take a bath now. During certain dep-isodes, I tend to skip them, and I don’t know why. Maybe because my bed is soooo inviting.

Your fight with your own crazy detailed in comments.

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