How personal can I get?

A kaleidoughscope of musings.

I am wondering; I'm kinda high. I'm in queue for an Overwatch rig which I will then use to queue an Overwatch game on.

I don't mind disclosing that I'm stoned. Baked. Fried. Gelé. I am often; it's a residual habit I have from the pandemic, where I decided that I wasn't going to spend lockdown sober. I'm glad I did not; I have no regrets from the pandemic.

I have no regrets about the pandemic for now. No, that's not true. My only regret is not working harder to build a life with someone, like an SO.

Well, my rig queue is up; what I was thinking before I forget is that I can always claim that an AI wrote something I did if I somehow get into hot water with the blogging authorities, which has yet to happen.

I will say that I was recently unbanned from Overwatch. I was banned by the automated system, probably because I play on cloud gaming. I have been cloud gaming almost exclusively for almost a year now.

On that note, I did recently restart my Nintendo Switch, and it still works.

I still love video games.

All is well in the world.

A log of blog logs and a pic

I like to write about my personal life a lot.

It goes overboard sometimes, but not very often because I can always get my Reddit fix and on there, I don't like writing about my personal life nearly as often because especially nobody cares.

Here, somebody might care one day.

In act, that's sort of what the purpose of this blog has turned into: a log of blog logs, a place where I wrote stuff that might once again have relevance in the future, for Internet historians or for future schoolchildren learning about human history.

One gripe I have with this place is that the pictures aren't forever, but here's one I took and when this one disappears from Google's servers for whatever reason, well, at least there won't be anything left to describe it except... no, nothing except VOICI: 

Ei

 Inazuma brillie éternel!