This week I learned another expensive lesson. I had originally bought tickets to see Michael Franti & Spearhead at Summer Stage in Central Park before I got my job, so I figured mid-week concert in NYC? No problem. After I got the job I took a day and a half, planning to go last year, when last minute it was cancelled. When the reschedule date came in for June 28th of this year I was disappointed, but didn't jump on the refund window of 30 days so took the day and a half off again, booked a hotel this time, and had every intention of going.

Except that since I've now been working for a year and a half, and spent half a year in my own apartment, juggling apartment duties, my parent's obsessive need to see me almost every weekend, and general malaise and lack of sleep in the summer from the heat and humidity, I woke up Wednesday and knew there was no way I'd make it. The hotel cancellation window had also passed at that point, so I ate the cost of the ticket and hotel, and have to admit something.

No more NYC concerts, which makes me very sad. If I'd still been living in the city I would have made it, even if not feeling my best, since it would just be a bus ride crosstown and short walk to the venue, maybe 30 minutes tops. From here it's 2 hours on the train, probably 30-45 minutes to the hotel, lugging a bag the whole way, then another 30 to the venue, have a blast at the concert, then reverse all of that. I'm too old to commit months ahead that I'll be reliably able to do that.

When I was 24, no problem. Even at 34 I probably could have done it once in a while. But at 44 I have to wave the white flag. I could say that I don't mind, but I'd be lying; the best I can do is say that I hope some day I'm okay with that. And not schedule any more concerts in the city.

The coup never happened, and the Ukraine war isn't over, but at least I can hope that Putin's power has been diminished by the open, albeit temporary, rebellion against him. Someday soon I hope that Ukraine will be able to declare victory, but this is not that day yet.

While everything in US politics has been screwed up beyond recognition, at least there are some encouraging signs abroad. There's a possible coup attempt against Putin in progress, FINALLY, after the disastrous Ukraine occupation, and I hope that can finally bring an end to that war. Putin will never give up his campaign, since admitting defeat would personally embarrass him, and the USSR/Russia does have quite the history of coups. In this case, one more might not be a bad thing.

Most repulsive to me is the fact that many atrocities have been committed and documented, from mass killings to mass kidnappings in Ukraine (see Bucha), and yet to Putin what is most important is maintaining his illusion of control over the situation and tacitly condoning what has gone on. At least in my mind he truly is a successor to Stalin, one who believes that whatever the human cost, his goals are paramount and a mark of pride. KGB through and through.

No wonder he and Trump got along so well. Their willingness to sacrifice morals and other peoples' lives roll off of them like water, since both are sociopaths. We managed to get rid of our former sociopathic President; now I'm hoping Russia has the same success and that if so, Putin's replacement can be a decent human being and bring this to an end.

And it finally happened! Trump has been indicted on the mishandling of classified documents, and obstruction of justice, and I'm so incredibly happy about it. At the same time I do realize that there will be an outpouring of support from his insane followers who insist he can do no wrong as well as his backers in Congress, but even without being a lawyer I read the indictment thinking "This is really bad." 

There has been precedent in other countries, even in Western governments, where the former head of the country was prosecuted and sent to jail, so the fact that the USA has never done so isn't that large of a stumbling block. Even Nixon would almost certainly have gone to jail if Ford hadn't pardoned him, so that's an almost-precedent and many laws that were passed after that debacle are the ones being brought to bear here, appropriately. The irony that Roger Stone, the guy with the Nixon back tattoo, was one of Trump's mentors just makes it that much more delicious and fitting as he learned part of how to commit crimes from the one who idolized Nixon as being above the law. Now Trump will be brought to justice as much as he can from internalizing that there are no laws to follow.

Of course who knows what will actually happen, but with a 21 day projected window of a trial listed in the indictment it might be rather swift. There are so, SO many times where I wish I could read a history book from the future to find out the outcome, but life doesn't work that way. Time to buckle up and watch the news along with everyone else.

For the past month I've often thought about Dooce. I read her blog from beginning to latest when I was working my first job as a temp in a government library in 2004, and followed her story as she was pregnant with her first child, checked into a mental ward for PPD, and was one of the first I encountered to speak candidly about living with mental illness, something I strongly identified with. As time went on and my life got more hectic moving to NYC I occasionally went to her blog, and knew she'd had a second child, divorced her husband, and was sad to see that after the divorce she progressively seemed lost as blogging was no longer a lucrative career. She declared herself an alcoholic after I had been sober for over a year myself so I also knew how hard the first years are, trying to be sober and mentally ill.

On May 10th I saw a headline on Fark's Business page - "Dooce drops", and figured she had deleted her web page. Instead she had deleted herself. She committed suicide May 9th.

Of course I didn't know her in person, but I understood all too well that her diseases of mental illnesses and alcoholism had taken her down. Despite her children, her family, and all of the times she had tried various treatments, she lost her struggle.

Depression, anxiety, and alcoholism are day to day issues that take up the majority of my energy and so damn much of my mental real estate to remain productive and focused. Some days even basic tasks are too much to handle, so those get skipped. And as I age, while some things do get easier (I have an established job, I've pushed through this before, I can use this short cut to make it (and me) look presentable when I have no more will to do it "the right way"), the less energy I have on bad days. She was only three years older than me, and I imagine that a really, really bad day was what happened.

In many ways her experiences taught me that it's ok to break, to be willing to seek help, to realize that the help you receive isn't always the help you need at the time, but that you have to keep going. Even though she didn't make it, I still have every intention to do so, even if the path is rarely smooth. Most of all I hope that her family can come to a fairly peaceful understanding of her passing, since suicide is never simple for those left behind. I also hope that you've finally found the peace you sought, Heather.