The date is September 23rd 2017.

The reason I’m mentioning this is because I’ve realized that Tumblr doesn’t automatically post a date and time of postings. I’ve been posting in my journal since July 2017 and, without dates, it’s hard to explain the change of seasons. Both figuratively and literally.

If you search around, you can find ways to add a timestamp to the HTML code. One of the things I would do, in the past, is divert my attention from the work at hand to fiddle around with HTML and coding that is outside of my immediate scope. I have ZERO interest in understanding extra code just for a service to do something basic as add a date to journal postings. Ridiculous.

The most I did was add a Google Analytics ID.

The reason I need to mention the date is because it’s my wife’s birthday. Donna turns 49. I turn 49 in November. I don’t celebrate my birthday and I could careless about other birthdays as well. 

The problem is, I know it means a lot to ‘other’ people. I just feel forced and obligated to buy something when, often times, I don’t have the money anyway.

That’s the biggest issue I have with birthdays. September is a rough month because I’m obligated to a bunch of people: Donna, Tiffany (my daughter), my mother and, of course, Doreen. Don’t ask. Find the handwritten journals of my youth to get that story.

I hate birthdays. Especially my own. I was hoping that I would grow into something less hateful in that ‘that’ regard, but it still stays the same. The obligation to ‘do’ for others on one day is enormous. Be sure to send a card. be sure to buy a gift. Be sure to recognize they were born this day. Have a party. Do, do, do, do, do.

For me, it’s another year older that I didn’t accomplish what I wanted. What I was ‘supposed’ to be. 

Now, things are different this year. The accomplishments are racking up splendidly. But it’s different. Do you understand that NONE of the things that I am accomplishing this year is part of who I wanted to be in the first place?

So here I am in a position of complaining about the ‘good things’ that are happening in my life. I’m an ungrateful bastard. Truth is, I can take the accomplishments and blessings I have been receiving as of late and spin them toward a film career later; having grown and learned to command the things I work on and the people around me.

Maybe I will start enjoying birthdays, as a result. We’ll see come November 7th.

Side note: I hate cats. I really do.

We have two cats: Lando and Laila. Lando started out a fine, friendly kitten to play with. Now he’s just being an asshole and I look forward to getting rid of them both.

Laila was always stupid and I almost broke her leg once. Looking forward to wringing her neck sooner or later. As for Lando, he’s always looking for attention and constantly a victim to fleas when he doesn’t go outside! The apartment is seemingly clear and free of the pests. Leila is free of fleas so I just don’t know what the fuck is going on.

So, today, the fuck pee’d on Donna’s side of the bed….no reason. Donna said she looked it up and it means the cat is sick. The fuck I care. These fucking animals do nothing but eat, shit and knock shit over. Have a pen and paper on a shelf, they will find a reason to knock it on the floor.

Donna loves them. She’s in my way of ridding my life of these fucks.

I had enough. They scratch all the furniture but she won’t have them declawed. The peeing on the bed was the last straw for me. Sooner than later, I’m going to take that cat for a long ride and dump him in the forest to get lost. I’m tired of closing doors and blocking the blinds from them bending them to look out a fucking window. Cats are pointless and they got to go.