Oh, this fucking ransomware thing here in Nevada has me shaken. In case it didn’t make national news: someone hacked the state of Nevada. No, like the whole fucking state system. Phones, websites, internal programs—the entire damn thing. Ransomware. It’s been going on since Monday, and I think every state office is still closed. Including the DMV, and people are freaking out about that.
Today has been less than productive. That’s okay, I guess.
Math gets a bad rap. I was on math team when I was a kid. I was the girl you gave money or weed to to borrow my graphing calculator because it had all the tests answers in it on a separate program the teacher never knew was there. I would tell them which ones to get wrong and how so we didn’t get caught. I was very high and had cash in high school. Thanks, math.
I have some very loyal readers. Because of my attention to the authorities surveilling me for retaliatory purposes, I have a lot of analytics running and I kind of watch everything. I try to stay ahead of the counterterrorism unit, which is shockingly easy to do so I’m a little concerned about public safety in Nevada in general.
I talked to Brian 1 tonight. I am doing a custom guitar for him. Weed-themed Telecaster ‘69 Thin Line in emerald green. Reefer madness decoupage with velvet weed leaves and a built-in roach clip and dual humbuckers. It should be a beauty.
Well, it appears that {D} has lawyered up. I got an email from his attorney — she went to fucking Boyd. Boyd! {D} is so broke he had to go that low. This is the same guy who shit-talked Boyd for years, and now it’s his lifeline? That’s almost as funny as pretending you still have standards after your second termination. My how the mighty have fallen, Yale to Boyd. How’s the 401k, {D}?
So apparently, I am now the proud owner of a new beauty hack: the Dollar Store Sharpie cat-eye. I didn’t mean to invent it, but here we are.
It’s hard to explain how dead I already am on the inside. What was taken from me. Who I once was has been stolen not just by the rape but by the year of fighting battles that still lie ahead. I’m tired. I’m nothing but a zombie doing my meaningless job all day, every day, resting on weekends, doing nothing but getting stoned and sleeping.
Tonight I want to talk about the rationale for why I didn’t just walk out the door that night. It’s just something I have been thinking about. I know what I was thinking — the rationale was just poor. But I have a few other things to take care of first. Meandering is my new word. It’s better than chaotic, which is how I typically describe my writing. I’m opening with it today, so strap in and try to follow the logic train that occasionally derails and then dances like it’s on Soul Train. I’m glad I missed the 70s sometimes.
Hardworking Nevadans. That is who all your elected officials are working for.
No one wants to touch my case with a 10-foot pole. It is what it is. It’s been in front of a lot of big political names that I am aware of. God knows who else has seen it by now — and some of these names scare me a little. Not because I’m intimidated by who they are, but because I’ve learned what they’re willing to ignore when it’s politically convenient.
I am a hiker. A lover of mountains. I have hiked every mountain in the Las Vegas valley except the radioactive one. I hike off trail because fuck what everybody else does. I go my own way. I have ridden rock slides down the side of a mountain like a wave. Still not sure how I am alive. My mantra hiking is “I’m not a pussy, I’m not a pussy, I’m not a pussy.”
Through this blog, I aim to share my thoughts, reflections, and experiences as I navigate through this challenging time. I hope that my story can resonate with others who have gone through similar situations.
If you or someone you know is going through a similar experience, remember that you are not alone. Reach out for help and support. Together, we can overcome.
