skellaxinscruples: (my dumb anime slimeweeping face)
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/sci-fi-fantasy/how-one-mash-up-artist-got-legal-permission-to-pair-calvin-hobbes-with-dune/

 I remember it, unfortunately. It was 1996. I was seven years old. I don't think I'd even used the internet very much, but I was the kind of little child who would stay up late and hope that in my drowsiness I'd catch some ethereal whisper about my true love. I was the kind of child who was afraid that if I stayed up past midnight, la llorona would wander through my house and steal me, so i learned to lay very still. Anyway, point being, I'm sensitive and always have been. So. It was 1996, and I woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach flu. By which I mean I woke up abruptly in the middle of the night, sobbing and throwing up off the side of my bed. I was sobbing for reasons much more than being sick, though. I realized in the midst of my illness, I was throwing up directly onto my copy of the collected Calvin and Hobbes. It was 1996: this fact matters because Bill Watterson, one of the greatest cartoonists of all time, had retired. No more Calvin and Hobbes. I was weeping in my heaving because I was destroying Calvin and Hobbes, and no more comics would ever be made. I was afraid because we lived in an era where things went out of print, for good, and were never seen again.

And now they don't.

Reading the above article, I'm utterly chuffed (positive meaning). I'm thinking now how easy it would be to browse a free repository of every single C&H strip, scanned and tagged, organized by subject matter. If I remembered even one panel, I could find that entire comic in an instant. And so, someone is pairing the classic comic with Dune quotes. How delightful. It's so easy now, to mix and mash up your favorite materials like that. And so much art now involves that kind of synthesis, and mine does too. 

When I was seven, I was afraid that something that would persist as classic would be lost forever, because I did not know that information scarcity would die. And now, for better or worse, we all live forever. In these pictures, at least.

Harper Lee has died today. 


too much.

Feb. 15th, 2016 06:34 pm
skellaxinscruples: (joan)
One of the reasons i have trouble writing in here regularly anymore is because I feel like I have too much to say all at once. Part of that is due to ye olde information overload we live in now. It's hard to focus on one thing. Giving short summaries and lists of what I've been experiencing lacks any of the narrative joy I used to experience, and also cheapens the craft. 

But here's something, because these are things I need to record now.

I have recently begun writing fiction again. It's fanfic, admittedly, but with my internal distress being so painful I can't even really write it down anywhere, my fixation has turned to cartoons and ideology... so it's easier to allow my emotional lability to interface with those externals more than my own disappointments and joys. Which isn't to say I don't think about myself, as I always have. I just can't let it manifest with the same freeness that I once did. I love emotions and interpersonal dynamics more than anything, so it's a pain to have so much trouble... reaching myself. Nonetheless, I've begun writing fiction with greater ease than before, and better Writing Hygiene. Less going back to self-correct, more ideas on paper. Less planning and presumption, more immersion in the material itself, and what "feels" right. It's interesting to realize how I've matured. And it's interesting to contemplate my influences.

I am almost done with the worst illness of my adult life. I had fevers up to nearly 105 (104.8) for over two days, among other unsavory symptoms. I haven't eaten a full meal of solid food in like six days. Fevers are controlled, other symptoms no longer feel like they might kill me, but have not abated. 

I need to get around to writing about how much physical therapy is making me miserable.
skellaxinscruples: (Default)
i'm a little bit in pain right now; work popped up with something that emotionally compromised me, so I'm gonna take a moment to work on some art for a bit. sigh.

i sent Cherry (the new girl) a song she might like, she's having a stressful day, but I haven't asked yet.

By new girl, I mean, that I just met her and we've synced into each other very quickly, and there are hints of possibility at something growing between us, but I'm not ready for a pursuit or anything yet, and I don't know if I should try ever. But, talking to her is something I look forward to. 

I realized I need to learn to -date- girls. To exist around, to socially pose my eligibility etc. Because all I know is how to romance them; to specifically focus upon and woo. That approach makes rejection or disappointment a bigger deal than it needs to be. Socializing with the potential for attraction shouldn't be so devastating. I'm not monogamous so I don't have like it. 

skellaxinscruples: (Default)
 But what if when I'm finally ready to pursue her, she'll have gotten her life together and will have no use for someone like me? I don't always know how to deal with this whole issue of desiring slow moving emotional development but seemingly no one else does. 
skellaxinscruples: (doot!zooted skull party)
 It feels like the beginning of a new year. I'm saying that largely because I have a fresh computer installation, and Halloween is always so special for me, and also I just got paid. I got a tarot reading from a struggling friend, which was enjoyable. I have no idea what I'm doing tonight, tbh... but this morning, I'm going to move the remainder of my possessions into the condo I've been purgatorying in. 

I don't know. Something feels fresh. Magic. Potential, I guess.

I'll write more later. Hafta clean before my ride gets here. 
skellaxinscruples: (joan)
I got a cute knife and cutting board in the mail, and the knife has a pink handle and a pink sheath, and I can't help but think of Rose Quartz. Some part of me wants to keep it around me all the time, but it's just a paring knife and it would be happier in my kitchen.

Nonetheless, I have to admit I had a cute little fantasy of Rose Quartz carrying a pink knife, ready to shank the bad guys. So, I've been drawing today...

(drawing to try to remember... I remember... but it is strange, that the lines i have practiced for years feel rusty and distant, so I must close the gap)

I drew a sea witchy Lapis with a crown-of-thorns-starfish on her head, seaweed on her, waves crashing up through her skirt, and the chain that held her, broken. It's not done yet, but it felt nice to have -an idea,- to be inspired. 

I also decided I'd draw street punk Rose Quartz, with that cute knife-o-mine, and somehow an expropriated police riot shield ended up in the drawing, she's wielding it in the other arm, and above "POLICE" it has scribbled on "fuck the police" and there are probably tattered rose stickers on it and stars. I want to draw Pearl behind her, with a baseball bat, but for fucks sake, drawing is hard. I'm finding this difficult on a few levels 1) I'm trying to use a style unfamiliar to me -- more cartoony and less bishoujo and 2) poses, what the fuck. Also she's tall and I have no idea how long torsos work. 3) Also, she's big and chubbyful and I've never drawn that before. But whenever I look at her, I think she'd be so fun to draw because she's so cute and rounded. I dunno. I still wanna draw Pearl with her, or at least a Pearl to go with her, some other time. 

(How much of this is remembering, and how much of this is learning, or relearning parts of myself that I had only contextualized previously as subject to an external person...)
skellaxinscruples: (rosa is not smiling)
 ugh. 

I've made a comeback. It's a strange, sad feeling, but it gives me hope, because I've been so deeply withdrawn for so long, and it seems like I'm finally slowly slithering my way back into being alive. Being alive hurts sometimes, has problems and troubles, but I feel like a person better capable of weathering those troubles, given the five, six(?) year long vacation I've taken from them. People say things like "the more things change, the more they stay the same," but I think the inverse is true. The more things stay the same, the more they change --

To maintain stagnation is to alter the meaning of what drew you into that routine to begin with.

Take, for example, a book I recently purchased, Blackout, by Sarah Hepola. At first, her alcoholism was a way for her to become the person she was afraid to be, a "liberated woman." It ended up becoming a way for her to drown out the person she had become. The compulsion and behavior itself didn't change, but maintaining a habit past its due date, past its utility, transforms experiment into self-flagellation. The same, I think, could be said of less destructive habits, such as fitness -- what starts as a routine constructed to reduce one's body size can transform into a routine of body awareness. Not that it stays past its due date, but at a certain point, the original goal is moot and meaningless, and not to acknowledge that can become a poison, a punishment. Like any other form of delusion.

In "real life," well, the world is a dynamic place. It always changes, whether or not you choose to acknowledge that, and so, for one to also change is not to abandon one's life, but instead, to prolong one's humanity, to stay updated in the subjectivity of living. 

I guess. 

Hmm. I just got back from vacation; went to Berkeley for a week, stayed with a friend, my fanboy drinking buddy. Watched TV, movies, cartoons, drank and ate and walked and such, pretty great. Stayed in his parents' mansion. I have thrown around the word mansion before, but they literally had a creek in their backyard, so, probably this one is a bit closer to that hyperbole than previous mansions (dansions). 

Yeh. I'm picking up slack. Paying more bills, trying to make the gesture of paying rent to my mom, paying off debts, it's actually kind of amazing. Doing paperwork and making calls. It's like I'm a real person. Sure, sometimes I struggle to crawl out of bed for a few hours, but the kind of unstructured life I lead was created to make difficult days less nerve-wracking. 

But yeah, I got back Monday, and I've been sleeping too much, but I'm starting to return to my human form. :3 

I reflected on a cyclical issue in my history, specifically, that of heterosexual women (sometimes identifying as bisexual) making advances on me, and then abandoning me and denying the significance of what happened, very abruptly and inconsiderately, as though my feelings are inconsequential. I realized that this has in fact been an issue in my life since I was 12 years old -- 17 year old girls were making professions of romance towards me (while I was still closeted myself) and then promptly saying everything in their life from ages 16-18 was worthless and trying to babble at me about cheating on their fiance with some guy they met on a cruise. ugh. At this rate, with the heartbreak I'm suffering from the newest wound inflicted in this pattern

(Winegirl, who in passing declared she was "a straight woman in a gay man's body" [uh when were you straight???] and then started talking about how monogamy is easy for her [when did you decide to be monogamous again and why] why did you not tell me these things despite having pursued me so declaratively before, why only say them in passing, frivolously, as though I have no feelings which could be affected by this sudden change of pace. Why are the things you had said to me before suddenly invalid? I have no claim over you, I do not own you and do not want to, but it is so gauche, so inconsiderate to pull me in so eagerly like that, and then forget it all happened TO MY FACE WHILE I AM TRAPPED IN YOUR HOME FOR DAYS -- no fucking wonder I spent all night crying in a closet.)

sigh. At this rate, I am starting to think that maybe I -actually need therapy- for the amount of rumination of my own worthlessness this is exponentially festering every time this occurs. I need to meet women for whom men are not the most important thing in life, perhaps. I have no idea if they even exist. I am certain I have worth, I am attractive, I clearly have the material with which to sustain long term relationships (even multiple) but I continuously get targeted by those who do not see me in a humanizing way, and perhaps should look into better environments and social circles. 

Yeah, okay, so the good parts of this...

I went to the dentist today and unintentionally networked with the x-ray tech girl who used to be involved in QA and whose father owns a big tech company in the valley and basically, I impressed her enough with my own current employment (at Lionbridge) that she suggested I could work for other companies as well, were I so interested! I have her number! :D I also know people locally who might be looking to stop working for an evil bank, so, I will pass that along as well.

That's perhaps the tip of the iceberg in this self-renovation.

I've kind of stumbled into the polyamory/skeptic circles on Facebook, like, big names, people with books -- I participate in their threads, I try to contribute and they seem to take an interest in the things I say. Of course, they're very interesting people who lots of people know, but god, i couldn't have said that I did anything this meaningful in 2013! This is important. I'm stepping up my presence. I didn't realize it at the time, I just met some of these people through other people, had some questions to ask about this and that topic... and ended up being invited to the dialogue. It's a good place to have stumbled into! 

I've... been in a rut, writing wise. I know I got a degree in poetry, but it was kind of self-deprecating for a while, but I've realized, I actually rather do like being a poet, all English-major mockery aside... I like the way of looking at things, as a poet. I like reading poetry. I know it's very insular, but it's good mental exercise. 

So. 

I've had this... story. I have a lot of stories, my dreams are in vast narrative detail, and people sometimes tell me to actually compose them into stories, and very rarely do I actually attempt. But there's one that's stayed in my head for years, really, years, I think about it often enough, recount it to people often enough, and I've spent enough time whining about not knowing what to write outside of college student dynamics... 

Okay, so I'm writing a post-zombie apocalypse story. It's not even got any zombies in it, I have no plans for that kind of horror. It's more about medical ethics and living under militarization and isolation to survive, without losing the human spirit. I dunno. The dream didn't have that many fleshed out characters, and I hope I don't get too trite and cliche, but hell, I need some exercise before my narrative muscles totally atrophy.

Also, I decided to do 5 pushups every time I like a facebook status (by a person, not a page) without commenting. Gotta amp up that word output. Gotta interact. Gotta get swole. This will help me on all these goals, haha. 


skellaxinscruples: (swirly dark rarity)
 Oh.

Everything has been put off. That's okay, it's pretty common in my life... time always feels slow. Very rarely does anything that seriously bad actually come to fruition, and it's never as bad as I'd expect it to be. So, I haven't moved yet, Lucas hasn't come yet, it's all very quiet.

I had a rough weekend, very severe CPTSD flare up, no idea what triggered it, but it was dark. I've felt better for the last two days, and today my psych upped one of my meds to see if it'd help. I don't know if I can know, really. If that episode is entirely over, then it won't make a difference. If it happens again, do I just have to wait longer? We'll see.

Cats are really enjoying their raw diet, finally. I love watching Raoul eat bones. At first he was just so angry about not being able to eat kibble, now they get really bossy when it's feeding time. Cute babies.

Saw Steve last week, he was in an off-broadway show, touring a ridiculous edutainment puppet thing. Children make terrible sounds en masse. I was anxious to see him for the first time in six years, so I spent five hours dyeing my hair purple. It ended up raining that day. I spent my time on that side of town wandering alone, mostly. I only got to see him for about 10 minutes while they packed up; then his tour bus had to leave right away to the next destination. He said was cathartic to see me, that he feels like he can be around me again. He likes it when I show him lots of pictures of my cats, still, and he's told all of his cast mates stories about my internet cam adventures, which makes me laugh. Theatre people, heh. He's gonna care about me forever.

Katie wants to have a baby, and after a brief pregnancy scare she's dedicated to trying, with her boyfriend... but that means she went off her meds cold turkey. It hasn't been very pleasant for her; she drinks a lot of NyQuil so she can sleep instead of being conscious for the withdrawal symptoms. She's dealt with cold turkey heroin withdrawals, so I assume she knows what she's doing.

I really need a laptop/tablet. I end up hanging out at the same desk I work at all day, there's insufficient work/leisure separation, I'm basically always at half-mast -- half engaged with working/money and half distracted. I can't relax and watch a show without feeling that I should be working, because it's on the same machine. Ugh.

Also, I'm... tired of being drunk? I was drinking a lot for a while, then I decided to taper off, and when I was having the episode honestly it did nothing for me (as anything did) and now I'm... honestly bored? I wish I had something else I could do to help myself slow down and separate myself from having to be engaged with work. 

Eh. I picked up a pack of cigarettes because I have a coupon, and I do that once or twice a year, and I sat out on the balcony smoking like we always used to do, and I have so many memories of sitting out there, standing beside him, being held, holding him, for these brief intervals while he smoked; not even a whole cigarette sometimes, sometimes we'd fuck out there if it was dark enough, and his touch was always so kind. Without him, there is really nothing here that makes this feel like home. I've grown disenchanted of my favorite bar; it's become trashy and full of the kind of young people I don't find so fun, I love Katie but she isn't home, and it's a very ephemeral thing, and I...

To be honest? I miss Adam a bunch. I miss talking to someone about the weird music I like. Even though he's been secretly stalking me on Tumblr, which I just discovered a few weeks ago (he even likes my selfies, that's so indiscreet!) .... It wasn't very healthy at the time, I was in a lot of pain, and he got eaten by a girlfriend. But then sometimes I think about the music, the aesthetic, the little quiet space, salvia, and the occasional late night talk about deep raw things. I watched some Archer the other day to try to cheer myself up, and I had always told him he was Cyril, and watching it again, I really am reminded of Adam. But, I can't go back. I can't go back until I'm out of here, out of this. I can't deal with him on the terms in place. I need to be stronger, have less reason to over-accomodate, feel less threatened, and he needs to know I'm not beholden to him; I'm not his. 

Music is a bitch, isn't it? When you like a song with someone, and can't listen to it so much anymore because you feel something. At least I'm good at discovering more music, but even then, I think about someone who would like it sometimes. 

I crave many things. 

skellaxinscruples: (Default)
I need to move next week. Staying in Phoenix still, but the place I'm currently in is going to be renovated and probably sold. It's more expensive for my mom to pay for this place than to pay months and months of rent somewhere else.

I'm freaking out a little, because I want to stay near my clinic, I like my neighborhood, but it's an expensive place to live. However, I ...

I realize that emotionally I don't live here any more. I don't want to be here. So maybe I should just let go of the idea of this neighborhood. I like the bars. My pharmacy is in walking distance. I'm close to my psych clinic; those are the things that matter, but maybe I should adapt. Maybe the disruption in scenery will help me somehow. I thought about maybe moving up near where Katie lives so I could hang out with her more. I think the area she lives is boring as hell, though. Maybe that is good. 

Honestly, the thing is, what's been making me happiest for a while is going grocery shopping at the Trader Joes, riding my bike there, feeling the fresh air and buying lovely foods. So, should I prioritize staying around there, then?  

The other thing is, high speed internet is a necessity. Or maybe it isn't. I don't know. Yes I do, you need at least 20 Mbps to do anything decent. I still have a really good deal with my current ISP, so that's also become a constraint. 

Actually, a thought occurs to me, perhaps I could move in the area surrounding the Mexican grocery store. Less high end stuff, but the produce is better priced than anywhere else, and cheap, and often locally sourced. Hmm. I can consider that. 

Lucas is coming next weekend to do paperwork type things. I'm supposed to go on a cute date with Katie this weekend but I'm dirt broke. My ex, Steve, is performing in town on Monday/Tuesday, so I want to go and pester him and watch his show. Not in that order. I have a bill to pay by the 27th, so I'm worried I should cancel the date. ugh.

Oh and my plumbing is broke. I'm having some gross problem where water is backing up into my kitchen sinks. I tried cleaning the p-trap and such, and they're actually pristine. The problem is somewhere else. 

oh yeah I need to work like another 65 more hours. 

I'm not depressed. I'm annoyed. It's not a bad annoyance, it's more miffed? I feel fine as a person and such. Just. As horse_ebooks said, "everything happens so much." 
skellaxinscruples: (Default)
 Although I have two partners right now, this is probably the closest to single I've ever been. I mean, I have a few friends who propositioned me the other night and I'm like "eh sure," but like, that's far away. I dunno. I'm deep in people's feels and trust but right now I feel more self-motivated than I ever have. Sometimes that means that I drink vodka and play old video games, and sometimes that means I decide I should work ten hours in one day, possibly multiple times next week. Eh. 

I have a good network of people I share intimacy with, most of it is not "physical" because I don't "live here." I'm located in Phoenix, but my life isn't here any more, if that makes sense. There's a cute girl who shares her boyfriend's gender issues (and cute maid pics) and is totally down to make out or otherwise express non-committal attraction to me. There's those cyberweirdoes in New York who consider me part of some weird triumvirate with them, but like, independent of them and also I don't feel like getting involved with them but like I'm cool having an air of feels around. There's a bunch of people who find me lovely and some who want to talk to me late at night while they're drunk and talk about their neuroses, and people who want to share their adventures, and... I just don't feel so owned right now, but at the same time, completely devoted to my partner. 

Like, I'm so smitten and adoring, I really think this is so great because it's like a desired but unbinding future. He expects me to be there but he's not counting on it, and I'm not counting on him, and every little show of devotion means so much more because of it.  Like, oh, yes, that you looked up when the best flight out to you would be means a lot. That you had already known that renting a room out there would be hard for me meant a lot. That you liked the thing I bought you. That you're working on getting me the gift I asked for, that you call, that you pick up. It's not consistent. I always want more of the good stuff, but, this trust despite the distance and communication discrepancies is oddly gratifying and helps me through the day, even when we don't talk. Yes, I sent you two pictures of the same cat in a row, and you agreed it was a good cat. That's how I know you care.

(also my ex still tells stories about my cats so yeah that's how I know he cares. he tells me he wants me to write a book. dork.) 
skellaxinscruples: (doot!zooted skull party)
 I'm not the best at the work-life balance. I've mostly been a bum this month, like, I've earned some money but not as much as I was supposed to. It's sort of... when will it ever be like this again? when will I have no pressing obligations and such low stakes, where I can just kind of waste time without an angry cloud over my head waiting to punish me? 

I mean, things can still go wrong, but. But I'm done with school and I have people who love me and I'm truly loving solitude. RIding my bike to Trader Joes is one of my favorite activities, and then I'm free to decide what I want to eat, and I always get compliments and it's just those little things that are so gratifying and I don't have some unacknowledged burden I'm neglecting. 

But, like, since the death of my laptop, it's been really hard on me. I miss camming, and I have a new camera, but more importantly, I miss having a machine I can use to watch movies in bed, or just... something away from the workdesk. 

Yeah, of course I want access to information and words and stuff nonstop, but it's hard to relax when you're sitting at the same desk where you were trying to cram in two more hours just a moment ago. There are constant reminders of who I am, the worker, and also sitting at a wood desk with a proper desk chair doesn't exactly accommodate my preferred splayed position for chillaxin, as they call it. 

I wanted to take Katie out for a proper date, just the two of us, on Wednesday, but she's been quiet for the last few days. I know it's probably not my fault, and I'm certainly not one to criticize quiet times, but I still miss her and worry about her and want to make her laugh and blush some more. 

All in all, everything is well, but I'm likely to attempt to put in an 80 hour work week next week. um. Yeah. Since I've done a 10 hour day before, this is not as impossible as it sounds. I have a lot of yerba mate. Sleep is for wusses with better scheduling skills who don't like to put off all work until the very end.


skellaxinscruples: (rosa is not smiling)
 To be honest, I stopped writing here (and in general) because an easily identifiable anon fuckboy was mean to me. I'm pretty sensitive, if we're honest. 

Today, I finished the last two credits of my undergrad degree. AFAIK, I AM DONE WITH SCHOOL FOREVER.

Wow. The Muppet Show was pretty gdamn intense. 

Anyway, Winegirl is Winegirl. She's inconsistent, often drunk or hungover, gorgeous, slightly ditzy, so very considerate. One day she says "yr such a good frand" and then the next night she gets all worked up asking "ARE WE COMPATIBLE???" and that's... actually pretty much all right with me. That satisfies me. I want both affection and negligence, without imposition, and I have her to be sweet to, so, she's incredibly more of what I wanted than what I had thought I wanted. I had thought I only wanted a physical/sexual relationship, because I didn't want my life to be overtaken, but oddly, a mostly weird feelings with a demisexual girl is... oddly satisfying. There is acceptance between us, and history, but no demand for a derailing future, so, I love her. She introduced me to the convenience of boxed wine, and I'm trying to get her to drink classy and other dumb snobby things I do, but I'm happy to share everything with her regardless.

So, also, yes, the place I'm currently living is secured. It'll be signed off on Monday or Tuesday. I have been trying to get my mother to understand my illness by keeping a journal for her; she says she's learned things. I also instructed her not to respond to it -- passive listening is hard for certain personality types. Passive listening is essential when you are facing something you don't understand and seem to have fundamental differences from. 

I really love Lucas. I'm deep in an introvert hole right now, and he's patient and kind. When I ask of him, he is present. He's currently wrapped up in another hobby (like always), but this one is genuinely good for his health. He's motivated, even. he's going for another year of school, so he can have a better career... this makes my future plans more unstable, but, I am happy for him, and if I'm still there, it will be better for both of us. I could never deny someone their education and potential, after all. Still, learning to cooperate with me is going to be hard for him, since he's generally such a vague person, and I have concrete needs right now. 

Even if, to be honest, I spend most of my time alone and not intimately communicating, this is probably the healthiest poly I've ever had. Right now, what I need is to learn to do things by myself, and to get out of this years long rut (I've gotten pretty far, being that I'm done with school now!) so I can be a better provider for the people I love. 

Adulting is expensive. 

I finally have a smart phone. I bought it from the phone company, it's brand new and official and I earned it and it is mine. I haven't put any money into it yet (but I have a good plan for when I do!) but I have been using it for moneymaking already, and I'm rarely so enamoured of my material possessions, except that this one is a (low ranking) status symbol (because everyone already has one) and that I earned it. All by myself. It is mine. No one can take it away from me. If my other phone got cut off, I wouldn't feel so afraid, because I have this one that I purchased myself, and can fund myself. I guess that is what independence is. 






skellaxinscruples: (swirly dark rarity)
 I like the night. There's such a dearth (not complete) of things happening; the pressures of daylight are on hold, while the world sleeps. It is a  respite of a few hours, at least, that the Responsible World won't come and harangue me; business hours are over. Old people need to sleep off their geriatric exhaustion. I hear the occasional car on the freeway beyond my balcony and the occasional snore of my cat. That someone would suddenly appear to disrupt this, intentionally, violently, it does not seem likely right here. Other places, maybe. But anger in this calm quiet is more noticeable, stands out more, seems like an incongruity, so there is incentive not to have it -- unlike the daylight, where everything is lost under the rush rush noise deadline. It is raining a little outside. I  wish I felt a little more safe all  the time. 
skellaxinscruples: (the woman! all the women!)
 ...Is what she told me she told her boyfriend, when she came over yesterday to help me clean. Pretty bold, now. We had a long talk about our ideal relationship configurations, and how she wants both a boyfriend and a girlfriend in the long term, but not a unicorn. Feelings. And like, some memories, as I sorted through my sentimental paper collection. And I told her about when I got cheated on for a few months, and how much that really hurt me, but how I've recovered from it for the most part. I told her about how Pat was a scum, and she admitted that if she'd known how much he was motivated to rape her in hanging out with her, she wouldn't have. 

We talked about moving slow; she gets girls throwing themselves at her for hookups, and she's mostly disinterested in that. She wanted someone she could relate to, and somehow she relates to me. And I talked about how I can hook up pretty easily, but people are bothersome and I'm less patient for that now, and when it comes to relationships I don't really like to start with sex -- I move very slowly. 

So, yeah, we're not girlfriends but we're trying to get to know each other in that direction. Since we've known each other for so long, this isn't full of pressure. The fact that she wants to discuss and be reasonable about this actually fills me with more giddiness than just rushing for a label. 

I send her lots of pictures of dogs. I mean, I do that for everyone, but more for her because she doesn't like cats.

Yeah.

Two days ago my mother came over to "clean," with the girls in tow, but then she started wanting to pack, to take down my decor, and for that I felt deceived. If I had known it was for packing rather than cleaning, I would have prepared differently. Threw away a bunch of stuff. When we had a moment alone, I told her...

That she can't pound on my door and barge in angrily and yell at me like she did last time she came over (a few weeks ago?). When she did that, it really messed me up, I had a constant animal panic response and couldn't stand loud noises and just had overwhelming terror and anxiety. She said "Don't you tell me what I can and can't do," not even listening to the whole thing, where I also wanted to explain that I've had nightmares about that interaction for the last eight years, a huge anxiety of intrusion, and that yelling really triggers me. I did mention that all of my partners have respected my boundaries enough to avoid using raised voices around me, because it messes me up, and she said "You never treated them as bad as you treat me," and accused me of using her, and basically that she didn't care I have emotional boundaries and triggers. 

So, yeah. Without a doubt, that interaction crossed the line from dysfunction to abuse. I feel afraid and unsafe, logically. But mostly numb. Mostly numb, I guess, the only way you can feel when you finally understand your parent doesn't care about you/your health. 

The reason my life is shit and things don't get done is because I am depressed. Because I am ill. I am not wasting time and having fun when I am failing to get things done, I am crushed by my own shame and lack of motivation, overwhelmed constantly, scared. My mind is foggy and I can't focus on anything and I feel so much pressure, and I feel like a let down. And it's been 15 years of being treated and I'm not fixed, and that itself makes me feel worse and more useless. I can't be "using" her -- she has been giving of her own volition. I stopped asking a long time ago. If she cut me off, I wouldn't fight. All I'm asking now is that she respect my boundaries, be mindful of my health -- which one would do for any other person, even a stranger. Even if a stranger told you that they have asthma, if you're half-decent you wouldn't blow smoke their way. Why isn't it the same for mental illness? 

But I talked to her yesterday, on the phone, since I missed a call from her, and she seemed pleasant enough, and surprised that I am working on things, in a good way. She wanted to arrange a dentist's appointment for me. 

I'm considering leaving sooner than I had planned, because of this. I get paid soon; not much. If I just wrap up a few things, then I'd be able to cut and run. Min said she'd pay my transport anywhere. Ugh, she is so lovely and I hate being like this, I hate this. 

Anyway, before I started writing this entry, Lucas was kind of terse at me, and so I started to consider myself a failure again, after being up since late last night to this afternoon, right now, cleaning and trying to get work done, high on emotions and chances. The constant up and down is really tough, because I can't always predict what I'll end up like moment to moment. Writing all of this down, I feel less sad and self-conscious than I did, for some reason, even though I'm reliving emotions by recording them. 
skellaxinscruples: (yumikuri)
 You're the idiot who gets into a happy relationship and experiences career success but still proudly tells stories about his ex's cats. You haven't seen those cats in seven years. You're fucking terrible for making me the villain in your narrative when you still clearly love me enough to tell stories about my cats. I wish it were easier for me to negotiate the line between how important you always will be to me, and how wounded I feel between the distance you demanded between us. I lost family in the break up; I lost you. The only person I could ever feel that way for. And maybe I was a coward for not showing more directly what I was thinking, feeling. And letting you fill in the blanks in ways that hurt me so much.  It hurts that I'll never feel that way for anyone else again, and even when I had you, you were too afraid to validate that part of me, or even understand it. 

I've gotten far enough that I rather wish you were more like him, than he would be you. I recognize what he does right, and you didn't. Even though there are similarities in how you've both handled me. It just hurts to know that I'll have this forever, unsatisfiable ache, and the only person who could have fulfilled it wouldn't, couldn't; rejected it, even. 

I wonder how much of this I'll ever be able to say to you. As time goes on, I feel the opportunity slip away. And I know I could never do any of it, except to your face, so you could feel what it all means to me. So you could hold me, crying in your arms about the brother I lost; and maybe you'd feel something like that again. I don't think you want to. I don't know if you're willing. I meant everything I said back then, and if I don't get to come to your wedding I'm going to be mortally wounded. I will always love you so much. 

 You know, none of mine would ever disdain you for how you hurt me. And you did. I don't hold it against you, I don't punish you for it. You're not the villain in my story, you know? If they met you, I think, at best they would have gotten what they expected (I am good at portraying people) and at worst they would be underwhelmed by this person I have put so many words to, this person I have rested so much of my heart into. But, we are different. That is why it didn't work out; I don't need someone to be a villain or a hero, even though when we started, I thought you were the latter. 

I know you want to see me. You probably can't articulate why, to be honest. Because you know what's coming. You know I won't behave to your face. I'll behave online because you can cut me off there, but in your bedroom, in your city, you know there's no escape and that you'll have to feel something at my words. I know you want to show me your new life; I will be happy for you, appreciative. But I will still want to show you my old wounds, you know that. What will you do, then, at that moment we're together? When the tears stream out of my eyes and I am leaning towards you, wanting your arms? 

Why are you the kind of idiot who still proudly tells stories about my cats and wants to see me, knowing what I'll do and say? Why does that still please me?

shady lady

Nov. 26th, 2014 10:33 pm
skellaxinscruples: (yumikuri)
 The moral of the story is that I can drink even more wine than I had imagined possible, if I really put my mind to it. And then I wake up the next morning and don't feel terrible, even though it was the cheapest wines. 

1.5 L chardonnay. 

Then a girl from my past, a pretty and troubled girl from my past contacted me out of the blue and was absurdly sweet and flattering towards me and kind of flirty, so I went over to her house, and we drank most of a box of wine together and made out and such and also co-mourned about Savanna and how she had died alone. Then, I guess she had therapy, so her boyfriend drove us to her psychiatrist, and she wanted to take me in with her, but her therapist tricked her out of it, so I was in a boring waiting room forever. Then she ambled to a Dairy Queen and bought more chicken tenders than she needed; so did I. We probably should have just split something. I felt a little bad about eating meat, but I was hungry and there was nothing else, and also tomorrow is Thanksgiving. 

Pretty much I spent the day with her. She's pretty and quiet and demure and likes to hide at her home with her dogs, and drink too much, and be an inward oriented nerd with emotional complexity. I guess she's always liked me a lot more than I thought she did. At various times, I've heard from a number of people she wanted to have sex with me; I think she invited me to, once, asking to be my "lesbian apprentice," but I thought she just wanted to know how to flirt with girls so I was oblivious aah. 

She lives with her boyfriend who looks after her very well, as she's recovering from a breakdown. She takes care of his kids regularly; it's odd, to see her in a domestic capacity, when I remember her old roach-encrusted house with a line of Delsym bottles on the counter. I'm amused that she told the ambien and appletinis party story to her boyfriend, "The Mystery of the Missing Sparklepants," hahaha. Ah. Man.  Also, she didn't know that her oven has a broiler, even though she likes to cook. People have such interesting gaps in knowledge.

I dunno. I should probably date her. I mentioned I hadn't had a girlfriend for years, that I need a girlfriend. She said, "I do too..." I dunno. We would get to do cute girly things together and it'd be cute. And she's pretty, she thinks I'm pretty, she thinks I'm interesting and smart. ugh. I hate it when girls like me, it makes me nervous and dumb. I should probably date her. She knows enough about me to not find any dealbreakers about me, I suppose. But she's emotionally vulnerable, moreso than me. I am used to being crazy, and she is really dealing with a lot of stuff that is bigger and scarier. I dunno. I'm going to spend this weekend at her house, after Thanksgiving. I don't want to go to Thanksgiving, it's my least favorite holiday. But, seeing her will give me something to look forward to this week. She is soft and warm and likes me, though, and after all these years I can at least try to act less nervous around her because that's what you do when you have a certain level of intimacy with someone. But, I am still... Mn. It was nice to touch another girl's hair, to feel the warmth and softness of a girl; not really in an especially sexual way, but rather in the pleasantness of bodies; a thing I do not experience anymore, but would like to.

ah man I really am stressed out over thanksgiving aaa.
skellaxinscruples: (doot!zooted skull party)
 Blah. I had written out this whole entry, but now it is gone. 

-He gets defensive when I ask what he wants to do with his life. I feel pity. I have never felt that was such a threatening question.
-I work a lot and it's never enough. 
-Cam work is hard, feeling commodified directly is hard. 
-I would feel better if I could receive affection from the one I love, who loves me for real, as opposed to this objectification.
-I am glad to be on non-smuggled birth control.
-Sometimes I just lay in bed and let my brain run autopilot, soaking in every thought and letting it breeze through and I think about things like the construction of corsets and seasonal changes and fish and science fiction.
-I need to set up my desktop again so I can play Gauntlet and other vidya. 
-Madeleine said she didn't express her appreciation for me enough. Then she did 1.3 mg of acid and it was good for her. 
-Plan to move to Oakland has changed. November 2015 is the target date now. Lucas will finish his degree program then, and Li-Chi's dad will get SSI and be able to pay the mortgage alone. Li-Chi works too much. 10 hour days. Consecutively. 
-I am paying off debts, but that means I'm broke, but I guess my net worth is increasing. Weird. 
skellaxinscruples: (the woman! all the women!)
 correction: alex is moving maybe to Santa etc. in SoCal, 12 minutes away from where Lucas lives, yeah, that's just about as tempting still. I really hate Phoenix.
skellaxinscruples: (joan)
 Trying hard not to be a useless piece of shit. I say that lovingly, though. Making phone calls, resolving bills, making appointments, packing boxes. I am going to the MVD tomorrow to get my state ID so I can cash out my Amazon earnings. The upcoming paycheck should be a good sized one. I have to call the makers of my router to get help setting up PPPoE for my new, cheaper, faster ISP. 

After I got back from KoLcon, I did some acid that I ordered from the internet and it was great, except for the part where the largest storm in Arizona history happened and there was a grid-wide power failure and my desktop died and it was like survival horror dark (the streetlamps went out). The only light I could carry on me was my iPod, so I tried going into the hallway of my complex, which already looks like an abandoned hotel, and then into the garage to see if anyone else was up, but no one, and I couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of me, so I figured it was probably safer just staying in my own unit. Also, being that I was tripping balls, I was only 70% sure it wasn't a drug addled delusion, and it was 3:30 AM so I didn't have any safe adults to call and ask "hey is there really a blackout and a crazy storm or am I just that high? I'm pretty sure it's not just me." I think, anyway, calling someone at 3:30 AM on a Monday night to ask would have troubled them more than I was troubled by the whole situation. Later, I discovered the power surge had killed my hard drive on my desktop. 

So, I was dealing with this shitbox laptop for over a week, and then I accidentally whimsically performed a recovery from BIOS (I just kinda pressed a key based on having a vague notion that you could do that) and now my desktop is back! 

Going through the possessions Lucas abandoned here; he is a marvelous collector of near obsolete technology. I have a tiny, but functional PS2 from him, a shitty little portable MP3 player full of System of a Down and "epic metal" and Bob Marley (white boy 2006 soundtrack), a photo printer, a Bamboo tablet (I'm keeping that one)... also a few issues of PC Magazine. Which is so hilariously outmoded I can't stand it. 

Alex is possibly moving to Mountain View. I'm tempted to beg him to take me with. It's in the Bay Area, yeah, and I am so sick of Phoenix; I really do feel like I no longer live here. What if I really just did that? Then in a month I could go and bug Li-Chi every week and ah, it'd be great. Alex offered to share a place with me in the recent past when my housing was shaky... so it's not completely out of the blue.  oh god, the idea is so tempting that I just asked him. 
skellaxinscruples: (yumikuri)
 Emotionally challenging day. I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong to myself. 

But, Lucas called me today, and I can't even stand how patient he is, how devoted he is. I don't know why anyone would choose to make their lives along side me, like he does, to wait for me to come to my senses like he does, ugh, god, he's so fucking lovely I can't stand it. And he doesn't talk too much. I chided him, today, when he told me I had mixed up two of the bars he frequents, apologizing that I should know better based on all the scintillating details he confides in me about his hangouts (none). But I guess one is like this fucking fantastic, affordable, divey(??? how???) gastropub. Ugh, I want to go visit him for his birthday so bad. I need to come into an unreasonable amount of money ASAP to make that happen. 

Talked to Marcia today, I know I probably shouldn't hint at how vulnerable I feel to her, but I feel like she understands what it's like, to be a certain kind of woman, and she's always so supportive of me. She wants to know about my Patreon. I still want to help her build an Etsy. I hope she's not getting herself in too deep with her abusive ex-family, but then, I should wonder why she now has multiple ex-families. ugh. Complicated. 

KOLcon is tomorrow, and my ride's car is in the shop, if all else fails I'll take a bus to the festivities and leave other problems to future me. Assuming such doesn't fail, I'll shell out for gas at least. I love Ben. I love Alex, too. Those are the only two people I really care about out here much. And they're both, at heart, California people, so I'll never have to worry about losing touch with them. 

I dunno, I'm half-dressed to go get dinner at the sleazy bar across the street, because it's hard to be alone when I feel so overwrought. Everything would be different if I lived with the family I've really built, and I want nothing more than to be with them soon. 
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