Honey mustard and Armageddon

Where Nate finds about as good a reason as any to quote a Sting song, and are we really ten days away from the end of the world? Am I the only one that notices, when you open a bag of sandwich meat, it smells like a plastic bag full of ass?

"I hate to say it, but it's probably me."
So yeah. Putting together a Dagwood special, layering a perfect balance of roast beef, turkey, and pepperoni (even though I heretofore believe in pepperoni as a pizza condiment ONLY, but like a sucka, I get 'em for sandwiches too ... I'm like Lewis Black with candy corn, I suppose).

My days are filled with fast-paced intensity, where it's almost impossible to breathe, so I try to do that as little as possible.  Then there are days like today, where the intensity is spaced out between moments of the utter mundane. Don't really know which is the worst of two evils: The boring sessions with the morbidly depressed, or the action of maladaptive self-mutilators who are chronically in subjective crisis mode (including those of their own design).

I shared a bit of insight with a client today:
"When fighting anxiety or depression, you have a chance to play the role of a samurai guarding a fortress. It's up to you to decide where you can best defend this fortress, either inside the gates or outside the gates.

"If you put yourself inside the gates, all you can be is a victim to those things that you can't hear. You can't hear the rustling of the leaves, you can't smell the steel of the swords, you can't see movement in the dark. You only know that you're going to be attacked, and before you know it, the enemy is upon, and you've been defeated.

"If you put yourself outside the gates, you can be 100% in defense. You know that the enemy is coming, but now, you're ready. You are in defense mode. You can see, smell, hear, feel all the changes in the world around you, and you can focus, you can prepare. You can set yourself upon the enemy, before the enemy sets himself on you.

"Now, imagine that the 'enemy' is your anxiety and your depression. All that rustling in the trees, the movement in the dark ... those are you symptoms, your shaking, your nervousness, your crying. When you're defeated, you've been defeated by your panic. When you are prepared, you're ready to see these symptoms and notice how hard you need to fight."

And that's today. The car won't start, so I'll be pushing the SUV around the driveway tomorrow morning for Roadside Assistance to get me going in the morning. DMH is two months deep into giving micromanagement to true solid go, and my OCPD supervisor is loving the fuck out of it. Come home, and the two inside dogs went from being clean yesterday to smelling like hell risen today. And I'll have grades due by week's end. And I'm looking for a job closer to the wife and child, both of whom scarpered off three hours north due to, oh, such a convoluted pattern of events it hurts to recount.

Layer upon layer of sandwich meat, I'm running over the crazy shit that I need to accomplish before this evening's end. Finish grading some papers (such a painful task in and of itself). Putting more touches on this little figure I'm making to look like the lead villain of the film "Master of the Flying Guillotine." Trying to come up with another way to get some effective sleep without further exacerbating my burgeoning Nyquil dependence.

It's the 10th. The fucking world is allegedly coming to an end on the 21st. More and more, with these doomsday prophecies, they're all terrifying roughly six months to a year before they're supposed to happen, yet as the time gets closer no one seems to give a big quacking shit. In fact, the only people I've seen mention the 12/21/12 stuff recently were the Batiri, a trio of wrestlers in Chikara who are rocking a gimmick where they're supernatural demons. I'd hate to think that the last wrestling I ever got to watch was anything that showed itself on Monday night. Have to break out the Kenta best-of comp and watch a match a night 'til the end of the world.

Hey, how come no one's noticed that 12/21 is on a Friday. Wasn't that October doomsday on a Friday, or a weekend, or something like that? I want to see a doomsday prophecy where doomsday falls on a Tuesday.

I heard from someone in some previous life that, if you predict a day that the world will end, then you'll be wrong because man can never know that day. My reaction was that I'd wake up every day and say quietly to myself, "I bet the world ends today." It started off as a joke, but now, since it's obviously worked out pretty well so far, I'm afraid to start a day off and NOT do it, because watch that be the day that doomsday happens. I can imagine the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse addressing me directly, "About fucking time," then ride off to do their thing. Then, of course, there's luchadore Cibernetico, who's been predicting the "Apocalipsis" for probably his whole career. (Granted, he pronounces it, "Apo-CO-lip-sis," so there's probably the loophole.)

Well, let me honey mustard this motherfucker. Might smell like ass, but it tastes like wicked fresh.