So, I have to start with my piece o' shit laptop. That douche canoe of a laptop finally gave me problems I could not ignore, and I had to send it to the shop. I had been trying to hold off, not spend any money fixing this piece o' shit windows machine, hoping it would hold out until I could get a new machine. A non-windows machine. Optimally, an apple/mac that does not run windows (why would anyone do that any damned way?) or an android based tablet. If only the piece o' shit laptop held out that long...
Alas, it did not.
So off to the repair guy it went. Which left me with no way to help the Band for the last 5 days and counting. I am currently skipping the first half of accounting class to post this and google stalk stuff for the band. Because, obviously, it is still sitting at the repair guy's place, and as far as I know, he still hasn't even opened the travel sleeve my laptop lives in. What an ass muppet.
A word about the band: it is the love child of Aunt Becky, blogger extraordinaire, a group blog conceived to give people a safe place to talk about the bad shit that life throws at us. It is a beautiful thing.
Having no way to help the band or read fellow bandmember's blogs left me with nothing standing between myself and that awful black hole of depression that ran me over with the force of a freight train Thursday.
I'm marginally less depressed today. Not that anything is different. I guess it's just like anything else--this too shall pass.
I'm actually kind of glad I am having to do the google stalking from campus machines (with "deep freeze" installed on each). That way, maybe just maybe google won't remember that I have googled all these diseases, conditions, and violations against humanity. Otherwise, google may decide I have Munchhausen's syndrome or something.
I've been having to make lists as I read the posts on my piece o' shit crackberry. I have been kind of fucking up, google fingering shit that isn't getting a page and forgetting what the hell IS getting a page and needs to be google stalked and google fingered. This morning, I caught up. For the moment.
The nature of the band means that there are some pretty horrifying posts about abuse, about trauma, about loss, about grief. Yet each one is so much more than a horror story, or a sob story, or a pity party. Each post at Band Back Together is a story of survival.
It could be pretty depressing, working with the band. It isn't. When a topic or post gets to one of us, we let other bandmembers know, and the glitter goes flying through cyberspace. Along with virtual hugs, prayers, good thoughts, and good juju. And, while the band is absolutely there for anyone who needs a safe place to unload a deep dark secret, the band is about life, about living, about surviving. The band has helped me get connected with people outside of my tiny little circle of recovering addict friends. Not that there is anything wrong with my recovering addict friends, they are positively amazing.
It's just that the band has proven beyond doubt that earthlings are fucking amazaballs, too. So ladies (and gentlemen) of the band, rock on. I love you all!