I should write something on this blog. I should post a photo. Things are boring lately, though, even the photos in my phone.
Work is okay, and I still hate Trump.
I was thinking though: because of my line of work -- do I have a right to even pretend to talk like some kind of anti-Trump guy? Am I not a part of the finance machine that values dollars over lives? Workers comp is supposed to do a noble thing, right? When somebody gets hurt, all the healthy people have pooled their money to help the hurt person get through it. That's a good thing right? I think so. But the Evil Takers lurk the hallways all around me sucking blood and sucking out bonuses and sucking up huge salaries. I have an average salary, and I'm trying to make the data ring true. But, I am one of the people Michael Moore would yell at I bet.
Plus, I'm too lazy to get out there with the people - and get in the streets and protest anything. I have gone to a couple #resist things, but I just haven't stuck with it.
I don't stick with anything. That is my permanence.
We are getting out and meeting people more, the lady life partner and I. Some Meetup groups. Some coworker friendships seem to be developing.
The warm weather is here, and my mind is on trespassing and thrills. I don't want to camp in that boring way anymore, with screaming kids all day and drunk dads bragging all night. I want to hide my car somewhere and carry my gear out into the woods where I am not supposed to be. I want to camp illegal and swim naked. I want to stand next to the railroad tracks when a train goes by.