First off, Happy (late) Thanksgiving weekend to everyone out there. As usual, here at the castle things were pretty sedate—except, of course, when food was being made. I live with four extremely anxious culinary enthusiasts who firmly believe that any food produced in this home is obviously meant for them.

 

I’ve taken a bit of a break from writing recently—not just because of writer’s block, though that’s definitely been lurking around—but because I haven’t prioritized this space the way I used to. And I miss it. Writing has always been a way for me to vent about healthcare, reflect on grief, and process whatever fresh absurdity life throws at me. I’m hoping to get back to that more consistently.

 

For most of the weekend, I stayed in the wasteland—because let’s be honest, these days I feel more at home there than in real life. It’s not that I hate being around real people. I’m just becoming less of a fan of it. And I wasn’t really part of anyone’s real-world holiday plans anyway, so the wasteland it was.

 

Sidelined by Surgery

 

I’ve also been stuck at home for the past four weeks thanks to the shoulder surgery. With one arm limited and still in a sling, driving is physically unsafe, so unless someone is available, I’m stuck. It’s not the worst situation—I’ve hermited a lot since the strokes—but it does get frustrating when I need to grab something from the store or just want to exist outside my own house for a minute.

 

I did get an invite from the in-laws for Thanksgiving, and honestly, I would have enjoyed going. They’re genuinely good people, and I’m grateful our relationship didn’t fall apart after everything that happened that summer. I’ve always tried to shield them from some of the darker truths about what was going on before the suicide, because I want them to remember him the way they knew him. That’s been one of the hardest internal conflicts I carry.

 

But the logistics of traveling—longer stays, relying on others for transportation, dealing with restrictions—made it a “no” this year. Sometimes practicality overrides sentiment.

 

Feeling Alone vs. Feeling Optional

 

In reflecting on the weekend, I realized that what I felt wasn’t loneliness in the traditional sense. I didn’t necessarily want anyone here with me. What I needed was interaction, something simple and human.

 

And then I found a meme—because of course social media is always plastered with memes—and one line jumped out at me:

 

> “I was not crying because I was alone. I cried because I felt optional.”

 

 

 

I didn’t cry, but that line summed up my whole weekend. Honestly, it sums up a lot of life these days.

 

I don’t want to be swarmed with people. I just wish I didn’t feel like an optional extra in the lives of others. I know people get busy. I know aging spreads relationships across distances. I also know that over the years I wasn’t always the easiest person to be close to—and when it wasn’t me, it was the other guy in this house.

 

This isn’t a “poor me” rant. It’s more a realization that being alone doesn’t always equal being lonely. And that the real issue is feeling forgotten—not in a dramatic way, just in that background hum of life where you wonder if anyone thinks of you unprompted.

 

Why the Wasteland Works

 

This is why I spend so much time in the wasteland. It gives me perspective. It lets me run with my crew and genuinely enjoy being part of something without the awkwardness of real-world expectations. And if I want to run solo, I can do that too—no one takes offense.

 

And speaking of the wasteland—The Burning Springs update dropped on December 2nd. The game updated, the servers crashed instantly, and maintenance dragged on until about 8 or 9 p.m. The meltdown on Reddit was, as expected, spectacular. A true holiday treat.

 

Once things stabilized, the content itself was… weird. Fun weird, but weird. Crossing into Ohio looks less like Appalachia and more like someone dropped the Mojave Desert into the wrong zip code. My Ohio crew members were offended on several spiritual levels.

 

Gameplay still has its fair share of glitches (because Fallout), but I actually like that this update increases the complexity a bit. Games often simplify themselves to attract new players; this feels like a return to the slightly more challenging, more thoughtful gameplay the series used to lean on.

 

Complicated Lives, Complicated Games

 

Life is complicated. The game is complicated. And sometimes the complications are welcome.

 

I know that my perception doesn’t always equal reality. I know that despite everything—strokes, surgery, grief, the chaos of the past two and a half years—things have improved. Slowly, unevenly, imperfectly… but improved.

 

And through all of it, there are two unwavering constants:

 

The dogs and my mom will always stand by me as I sort out the crazy shit life throws my way.