Colin’s thoughts on commuting bring back dismal memories of my last job, a Vocational Rehabilitation placement, which required getting up early enough to get cleaned, get dressed, eat breakfast, and catch a 7:00am light rail for an hourish commute. The job itself only was four hours a day, but the physical and psychic burden of that commute upon my still-only-recently-diagosed autistic self was part of what led to the crash-and-burn which ended my employment after just six months.
Bix dot Blog
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
No fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.