I’ve been feeling the urge to be a bit more private with a lot of things lately. I’m not sure if this is due to free-floating stress, an onset of depression, the ravenous anxiety beast, or other factors in my life. I’m not going to deny they all play a part. Also, time has not been on my side recently, and it’s lead to my being a ghost in the machine — an occassional random comment on LJ or Facebook or Twitter, and that’s all.

But the life of a spectre in a world of digital bits is a quiet and lonely life, so I’m just checking to see if there’s folks out there. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the privacy urge, because it’s probably better that I get out what’s in my head as opposed to keeping it all bottled in, but I’m not sure where.

And I’m not sure when.

All I know is that I’m trying to get off the anxiety train, a thing which is anxiety-provoking in and of itself. I have taken the first steps of trying to do this, and I have a good therapist. But that’s not enough — I need friends. But I’m not sure I’m capable of being a good friend in return right now, and that’s what worries me.

I will hang on — I do nothing better. But hanging on isn’t living, y’know?

I caught this picture of my cat Ebony on accident, but figured it’d make a great caption contest pic.

You all have the floor.

I swear, if I find the entity in charge of running the universe, I’m going to give the asshole a piece of my mind. I’m absolutely frickin’ tired of him/her/it pissing on me and mine.

Short of it, Mom’s in the hospital on top of everything else that this year has dumped on me so far. She’ll probably live — but that’s not the point. Anything to do with the ticker malfunctioning is pretty scary.

(The latest news can be found on my Twitter and Facebook, and I’ll write a substantial blog post when things calm down, hopefully towards the end of the week.)