Author: The Petey

Just trying to find my way in the world without letting the bastards drag me down.

I Used to Like the Internet

I used to like the internet.  It was fun. It was informative. Now it seems to be mostly an torturously ad-riddled, hate filled, misinformation hellscape rife with trolls, bigots and hate-filled abusers.

Don’t get me wrong, there were always trolls. Trolls on computers predate common acceptance of the internet by about a decade. But it so much worse now. When people started carrying computers in their pockets and almost everyone was on the internet, the information highway became filled with the worst people drivers.

I try to curate a good internet experience for myself, but it just seems less worth it every day. The major platforms are owned by horrible people who the more you investigate them the scarier it all gets. I just kinda don’t wanna anymore with it all.

I will still use the internet to look stuff up, shop here and there, and keep in touch with friends, but it’s all losing it’s joy and is feeling like a chore.

And the irony of posting this on the internet and adding to the noise is not lost on me.

I Used to Like Writing

Writing used to be one of my favorite hobbies. I was kind of good at it, too. Like, college creative writing class good, but good. I didn’t completely suck.

A friend of mine used to write together even. I remember once we went to a diner to eat breakfast, write, read, eat lunch, and write some more. We told the waitress up front what our plan was and that we were going to tip for the time, nor just thye meal(s). She was intrigued. She checked in on us often and kept our coffee filled. It wasn’t a busy day and we didn’t need to give up the table – which we told her to let us know if we needed to.

Then there was the age of LiveJournal. That was a very active time for me and the keyboard. I posted a lot on there, some of it a tad too personal. That may have also been the start of my being turned off to writing. The guy I was dating at the time was abusive and started his own LiveJournal, mostly to attack me and make me feel lesser. I shared stuff about me; he shared stuff about us and me and never in a good light.

After that was over, I tried to “DO” something with it – blogging, food writing, what have you. It never went anywhere, and it all sucked. It most likely never went anywhere because it all sucked. I then started to believe that I sucked. That I had nothing to say. That no one cared about what little I did have to say.

It’s very likely that that last bit is true. Maybe the first bit is true also. But that middle bit is very not true. I do have something to say. I have a lot to say. I have too much to say. No time like now to start saying it I guess.

It took me two weeks to even start writing this piece. A lot of avoidance and fear preceded sitting down and typing. It feels KINDA good to be typing this, but there is still mostly fear and insecurity. I’m surprised I’m not used to those feelings by now – but is anyone ever?

So, I used to like writing. Now I’m afraid of it. Time to start the practice, work past the fear, and get my words out there in some form. Even if I’m the only one who cares.

Losing a Best Friend

On February 6th, 2025, at 4:00 PM, my partner and I lost our best friend.  He’s left behind a silence in our house that’s deafening and only filled with intermittent tears.  Every jingle is his collar when he shook his head.  Every tap are his nails on the hard wood floors.  Neither of us realized just how much this dog was a part of us.

Max was a great dog, especially for me and my partner.  He was affectionate without be clingy.  Playful without being hyper.  He was patient.

We adopted him as an older dog (6 years old), and it took a while for him to accept us as his humans.  What started out as his being a flight risk turned into him not wanting to leave our sides.  Finding out what he enjoyed was so fun.  For a dog from Texas, he wound up loving snow and cold weather.  His excitement at his first hike was a joy, his excitement was so obvious.

He was also a fiend for cheese and bacon.  He somehow learned to distinguish the sound the plastic from cheese made and would beeline to the kitchen whenever I opened a package.  And we always made sure there was enough bacon at breakfast to give him at least one strip, usually two.  And he never begged.  He’d only ever approach and wait for his treat.

Toward the end, bacon and cheese were the only things we were able to get him to eat.  We’d need to break it up into small bits so he could get it down.  He couldn’t go on hikes anymore as a walk around the block became difficult.  His last good day he did get to enjoy the snow one last time.  The Seattle winter rewarded us with that memory.

We miss this boy with all our hearts.  As we are potting stuff away, I cry when I see they’re not there anymore.  It’s a reminder that he is not here anymore.  I would have given so much to have more time with that boy, but there really wasn’t anymore.

Goodbye, Max.  Maximus.  Maximoose.  Muttley.  Big guy.