It just keeps getting better.

Well, I have 2 possible job opportunities. That's wonderful.

I have an in person interview on Monday. That's 2 days after Christmas.

We are due to get a snowstorm starting Christmas day, and lasting through Monday morning.

So, I went out today, to get a nice suit for my interview. I need one. I have no clothes left, and the last suit I had is in tatters.

So, I called Frank's Big and Tall. I need a place like this because my sizes aren't available at your run of the mill department store. They were great...they said they could have the pants hemmed and get me in a suit today if I could get to the store early.

So, I drove to the store.

And it was boarded up and closed.

I called them.

The nearest store was 40 miles north of where I was.

No time left. They were closing early.

So, I turned around and went to a local department store. No luck. Jackets that fit, but pants sized for little boys.

I gave up.

This is the story of my life. Nothing comes easy. Nothing happens without extreme effort, or travail. It's like I live to jump over obstacles and climb walls.

It's Christmas eve.

And through the magic of the internet, and FaceBook, I read of my friends and their preparations for Christmas. Mostly joyous, festive, wonderful posts. Baking cookies. Making things for tomorrow's big dinner. Welcoming family to their home. Celebrating the joy of their lives. Their children. Their husband. Their wife. Their new love. The beautiful tree. The lights!

And it's all so wonderful.

For them.

Tonight I sit in this shit hole of a house. My dad's house. The king of hoarders, there is more crap in here than a dozen workers could empty into a 5 ton dumpster in 3 days of solid work.

It's quiet. And it is alone.

And I grow bitter and resentful.

I could make a great Ebenezer Scrooge.

I have a bottle of gin and nice cold tonic water, and all the ice I could need.

So, I sit, and I drink.

And I self medicate.

The way my mother did.

She couldn't stand the pain of her life. Of her marriage. Of the conditions she was in.

She didn't drink because she was a hopeless alcoholic with an addiction problem.

She drank because she gave up. Because to do so was the one thing nobody in her life could control. And because it numbed the pain.

I finally understand her. And why she did what she did. And how sorrowful that was.

She was a woman of incredible talent, intelligence, compassion, empathy and sensitivity.

Driven to her knees by circumstances that crushed her spirit.

Much like this life I now lead, is trying to do to me.

My brother recently came to visit. And he and I agreed. Mom (her ashes) need to be at the cabin and the lake. Currently they sit alone on a mantle in this fucking shit hole of a house surrounded by photos of her, and garbage. She deserves better than that.

So, I will be taking her to the lake this Spring. And I don't care what my father says about that. He may have been her husband...but she gave birth to me and to my brothers. And that gives us the right. She is my blood. And she will be at the cabin. The place she loved more than anything. So help me, God.

Tonight I sit here again at this "wonderful time of year" totally disgusted.

I reach back, and try hard to feel the joy of what my friends and loved ones are enjoying. And wishing them well. Because I truly want them to be happy.

But I yearn for December 26th. When all of the pretense of this holiday are OVER.

I am tired of being reminded that I have no wife, no woman who loves me, no family with me, no job, and no money, no home and no future.

Just damned tired.

And the rage builds.

Sadness and loss turns to anger.

Because I have only two choices. I can sit here and wallow and give up. I can cry and say woe is me. Or I can rage inside at the injustice of it all. And I can build a fire inside, fueled by a deep hatred of the forces and people who have made me suffer.

I choose to strike the match, and light the flame.

And so help me. I will burn this misery to the ground. And nobody will stand in my way.

I have had ALL I will ever take.

ALL.

It's my life. And it may be fucking miserable to the end. But I will not allow anyone to chart that course but me.

I'm angry. I'm tired of sucking it down. I'm tired of losing.

I'm tired of hurting.

Done. Time to kick some ass. And I don't even care about taking the names.