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Wellp;
Just as the new keyboard comes in --

My old bluetooth keyboard is being a jerk. I have 6ish randomly changing dead keys. I tried.. everything in my power to make them come back. I:

* Paired it with a different device: it detected them as dead, too
* Reset all wifi/bluetooth etc settings
* Unpaired, "forgot", and reinstalled it SEVERAL TIMES
* Lightly tapped on it while upside down, to attempt to loosen possible crumbs

There's no water damage. Nothing predictable that seems to have done this; all I can tell is that it could be the bluetooth frequencies pissing each other off. Or.. mysteriously, I cracked that board in two internal spots, mid-travel between places lately. (2, 3 days?)

The warranty has long expired.

It's only $19-25 to replace. But that takes out some level of something for my final COVID payment.

A friend of mine is missing. I've tracked her to one place, and have to go searching again, this time at the behest of another friend of hers. I see she didn't just ditch me.. she ditched her entire FB account without arranging contacts to crossover elsewhere.

I know her personal phoning number is disconnected. She hasn't been on FB since approx April 6. I tracked her to a hospital, about a month ago. My guess is I can be forwarded from there.. if she's not STILL where I found her last...

Other news? Hmm.

My aunt is pressuring my mom and I to come deal with our storage like RTF now -- (tomorrow), this bugs me, because she misrepresented the stress level she felt that this shit had to go. (She inherited 5 acres, this sits on possibly 20'x40' of it...?) I'm already mildly annoyed that she (the aunt) is selectively pruning who gets to stay and go. Another aunt gets to keep her room. The daughter-of the inheriting-aunt has already began to bring her big shit out that way.

I wish she had just been straight up, & honest with the worker. I could have been up there, doing this shit. Now, I get to stress about not only mice destroying my shit, but my aunt threatening to toss what's bad AND GOOD. I don't like this. I don't like that she's doing this shit not even a week in to Grandpa being in the ground. She doesn't seem to have any sense of timing on this.

I'm also stressed by the tug-o-war my friends and family are playing with my attention. I'm damn near visiting 3 places a day, it feels like. I'm exhausted.

I have biffed out and been sleeping heavy, when I do sleep. I damn near slept through all the shit I told people I could handle doing today. If not for .. I think it was a FB call (?) at noonish, I would not have bothered to get tf up at all.

I don't think I like the medications I'm on.

I'm quasi delusional. I'm strongly believing I'm like a soul or alien implant in my body, circa 2008-10; part of this is fueled more by seeing the handwriting samples... they don't slant the same angle, the letters, sizing and spacing completely warp. It scared the crap outta another friend in the MH system. We like geeked out with panic, after seeing the handwriting's dramatic shift.

What bothers me more is my shrink not taking her golden opportunity to monkey with the meds. It was like she believed my delusion -- she decided to let me be, and see me the upcoming week after this entry.

I rewatched "Down to Earth" to refresh my mind about the premise. I don't specifically feel different raced, but, potentially a different age than the original host. I had come to, some point of 2010esque feeling like blank slate, no real tangible memories of who and wtf I was. I still have a lot of reconstructed, false, and unreliable self-memories. I retained book stuff, movie, TV and music info. Language I've markedly been worse at since 2010.

My apparent age of functioning was like toddler? I wonder if I am some version of a child with a second chance? I currently look and feel closer to my early/mid 20s. Most people outside of my net of friends and family are flabbergasted that I am almost 32. My main people know my age. Of course I would look it to them.

I'm told I dress like a teenager of this time period, but have the mind and tech of a boomer. I'm considered Generation Y, possibly. (I wanna be.. being an Elder Millennial feels shitty...) Whenever 1988 slots me in, really.

I imagine reading any level of journal-ing pre-2008 is going to blow my fucking mind for the levels of wtf it's gunna be to rediscover myself.

I have 40 gallons of journals and counting .. my workers really want me to toss these. They DO NOOOOOOOT get the amount of need I have, and desire to preserve things I write, make, and do. I am my own biggest stalker, paperwork/etc wise.

Journals are specifically kept.. I'm so scared of yet another version of blank slate. Who will tell me who I was? Who will know the most? Those goddamn journals. Most of my thoughts pre-2008 are seriously hard to recall. I need to preserve my personal log of history. I need it now... and I will need them in the event of rebooting from start again, or getting wiped worse.. say to the level of needing retraining to eat, move (I have strokes being a risk for me atm)...

Anyhoo. This ramble shambles on.

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