skellaxinscruples: (rosa is not smiling)
2015-07-31 02:08 am

aren't we always back to square one?


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 It's a strange, sad feeling, but it gives me hope, because I've been so deeply withdrawn for so long, and it seems like I'm finally slowly slithering my way back into being alive.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. 


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)
2015-03-12 11:26 pm

smoking on the balcony is not as fun without you


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: (doot!zooted skull party)
2015-02-21 09:42 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

 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)
2015-02-07 11:44 pm

(no subject)

 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: (the woman! all the women!)
2014-12-02 11:55 am

"I'm gonna make her my girlfriend."

 ...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.


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.