Angry Bunnies Drowning

I fell into a pit of ambivalence last night.

Join the club, yeah. I know.

Maybe it’s the social isolation but I really can’t imagine that’s it because I rarely leave the house so not much in my daily empath life has changed and… I stopped watching the news.

So why the sudden Pit of Despair?

It’s probably just… all of it. My ongoing existential crisis+++ but it’s really probably the re-emergence of our apartment’s mouse/centipede/moth infestation which was definitely here when we moved in and which our slumlord didn’t/doesn’t care about (he just dropped off twenty mouse traps) and consequently we’ve had to take it on ourselves which is fine because I’m now very good at killing all of these creatures which makes me feel unhappy but Food Chain and it was all quiet and still and they were all seemingly dead but now it’s fucking spring and they’re all back en force which makes me hate spring which feels very wrong because the buds on the tree outside which I can see through the layers of plastic pasted over our doing-really-well-for-their-age-but-not-highly-insulating windows from the 1800s makes me all ✨happy✨ but BEING QUARANTINED WITH THE REGENERATING INFESTATION is potentially a source of this ambivalence.

Also, I miss my parents and others and I miss our dog who died last year.

IT’S ALL SO SAD AND DEPRESSING AND oh my fucking cats my emotions have simply detached themselves from me.

Until I opened Microsoft Paint which I rediscovered on my old PC:

Good Things Microsoft Has Done

1. Microsoft Paint
2. …

I didn’t even know Microsoft Paint still existed. It’s something I used to rediscover while working at non-profits with old box computers.

In any case, I’m glad it’s still around. Forget music, fresh air, exercise, sleep, food, drugs and alcohol… my emotional health needs Microsoft Paint.

I’m from the Oregon Trail generation so that kind of makes sense. My peers and I grew up when really shitty graphics were just the standard through which we imagined how we too could die from dysentary along with our entire party after fording that fucking river we knew was too wide.

I drowned so many times in Oregon Trail, “drowning” is now a central theme in my adult fears. Even my emotions, which are apparently conceptualized as angry bunnies, are drowning.

Damn you, Oregon Trail. Don’t get me going on Carmen Sandiego…