Not much going on this week.
I thought for sure that I was going to hear from Munro’s kin about the last two posts.
Nope, not a single word.
I’ve already got time booked off from work for the discovery hearing in my matter against the commissionaire from the Denison Armouries in Toronto at Canadian Forces Base Downsview.
Still in the early stages of my class action against the Canadian Armed Forces for the trail of destruction that Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Father Angus McRae left in his wake as he moved from CFB Kingston, to CFB Portage La Prairie, to CFS Holberg, to CFB Namao.
The escitalopram is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. It’s not fixing anything. It’s just keeping my major depression and my severe anxiety in check. Which I guess is better than nothing.
My brain is so tired and so burnt out at the moment. I think this is the result of a lifetime of neglected mental health issues. It’s clearly obvious that although I’ve spent a lifetime enduring major depression, severe anxiety, and who the hell knows what else, it was probably dealing with COVID last year that really pushed me over the edge.
March is coming up, and this is when the Parliamentary committee is supposed to release their recommendations for M.A.i.D. for psychiatric issues. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.
“But if you win your actions against the Commissionaires and the Canadian Forces, surely you’ll reconsider, won’t you?”.
Just far too tired and far too burnt out. Far too neglected. And apologies will never be coming.
I’ve lived far too long with being blamed for things that were far beyond my control.
I’ve also gone for far too long being called a liar by the media.
Richard will never apologize. He’s dead.
Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro will never apologize, he did what the National Defence Act allowed him to do.
Any apology that I get from the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces will be a meaningless cookie cutter jumble of mumble bullshit words approved by the Department of Justice and the Solicitor General of Canada. Used toilet paper will have move value than anything from the DND or the CF.
So, it really is a no-win situation no matter what happens.
On a different tangent, I’m set to get some new tattoos on February 4th. More facial tattoos. I started tattooing my face around 2016. Started off with just a couple of small excursions on to my face.
Most tattoo artists won’t touch a person’s face no matter how many other tattoos a person has.
Bill was more than willing to.
Then Bill moved out to the valley.
I found another artist who was willing to get more involved, but then with the start of COVID Liam moved out of town.
So, I found another artist.
I’m going to try to get as much work done in a session or two with Eduardo as possible.
The nice thing about secure employment and working where I work is that they tolerate tattoos so long as they’re not offensive or profane.
I’m going to stay with the line motif. But Eduardo wants to change the direction of the lines and maybe go much thicker. He also wants to go over my eyelids if I’m able to stand it.
I really wish that I had gotten into tattoos a lot earlier in life. But being as that I had absolutely no family safety net to catch me if a previous employer decided that they didn’t like my tattoos, I was really hesitant to get anything that could be seen.
And with Richard’s voice in my head always asserting that I was completely useless I was always very reluctant to do anything nice for myself as I fully expected Richard to find out and then chastise and berate me for being a fucking idiot and trying to show off.
Honestly, I think that my tattoos and my piercings are my “Fuck You” to the society that practically shat upon me my entire life because I didn’t fit in and I wasn’t “normal”.
It’s not my fault I’m not normal. I tried so fucking hard in my younger days to be “normal” that I think I ruined any chance of ever actually being normal. My not being normal is a choice that my father and the Canadian Armed Forces made for me when I was a kid in need of psychiatric care. The Canadian Forces decided that secrets needed to be kept, and my father was too much of a fucking pussy to tell the Canadian Armed Forces to go get fucking stuffed.
Anyways, that’s this post for now.
I’d really like to post about other stuff, but I really don’t have any interests.
I don’t like sports.
I like music, but I’ve never been wrapped up in fandom.
I like bicycles, but I just ride them.
I like motorcycles, but again, I just ride them.
I don’t keep up with current entertainment trends. I actually just started watching “Game of Thrones” this past Sunday. I’m up to Season 1 Episode 6. So that’s what, 11 years behind?
I haven’t read a good book in ages. Just don’t have the interest. As a kid I loved reading. Even in my teen years I loved to read. I think mu interest in reading waned sometime in my 20’s. Too busy at work trying to keep up and keep my employers happy.
I like road trips on my motorcycle. Just me, myself, and the bike. But COVID put road trips on the back burner. So nothing to write about there.
And talking about work would probably put ya’ll to sleep.