I need a hobby to get my mind off of the flotsam that's floating amongst us

Hola my fellow blood-infused creatures.

This is my first blog since I left the laptop world (on the most part) and have gone to a combo of a hybrid Windows tablet and an iPad witth a bluetooth keyboard.  While I miss my Macbook, I like the portability of the smaller computing devivces (even though once my eyes finally go to shit, I will probably have to go back to the bulkier alternatives).

Anywho, what am I going to talk to no one about today?

Don't get me wrong; I have had more than 40K in views on this blog over the years.  Considering that I expected no one to read my raging, I am thankful for it.

The funny thing is as I am about to get on the slide down toward my 50's, I feel rather alone.  I know there are a few folks who would at least attend my funeral when the time comes, most days (when I'm working, which I haven't done for a straight year in nearly 8) I eat alone or very little conversation takes place at home (unless I am venting my frustrations with my offspring).

It's hard to be happy...not only in my own personal affairs, but just with the world in general.

Shit has gotten uglier than someone in a bar before you start drinking.

I have ranted before about racism, bigottry, apathy and so on and so on.

But the biggest issue I have these days is that folks simply don't give a shit about one another.  I mean the rudeness, the disdain some have for others is so sad.  We have always judged people based on "1st impressions" (the dumbest idea since they rebuilt Yankee Stadium; I haven't visited the new place, but my team has sort of scuuffled since the magic of that old ball part was torn down).  I am so guilty of doing this, but at the same time throughhout my life I always tried to give people enough rope to hang themselves.  An asshole will start to drop shit eventually (and my apologies if you were just about to pop in a Hershey's kiss as you read that).  You take out the entire skin color/religion/sexual orientation thing and all that is left is simple people; indiviuals who are either good or better left removed from your life like scabs.

Even though my mom said picking scabs is bad.

I get up every day, do what I have to do (either go to work or...geech...be a "parent"), hopeful that perhaps I will come across something that will reinforce my belief that the majority of us are somewhat good.

A lot of days I end up grotesquely disappointed.

I don't know folks...it sort of makes me considering giving up hope on all of us.

Then I look at my kids.  One is a dual-diiagnosed mentally behind ball of love and violence.  The other is a fresh teen who doesn't care if he doesn't bathe for days.

Then the little one says hi to any race, creed or orientation.  The big one, when he isn't fighting imaginary wars, is a good kid.  Gives me hope that perhaps we can survive before destroying ourselves.

A little, anyway.