Still depressed as fuck. Still anxious as all hell. Still not wanting to leave my house.
I’ve got a big Thing happening in a couple of weeks and it feels like everything that I am is riding on getting a good result. So there’s a bunch of stress on my back, and my back isn’t exactly the strongest.
Thanks to everyone who offered support. I don’t know what’s gonna happen if things don’t go my way, but know that I do appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my brain dribbles and even comment on stuff.
And that’s all.
I’m still fighting the brain weasels hardcore, which oddly enough, means I get all fucking crafty like, making shit like this:
On the serious, CONvergence is coming up in two weeks, 4th of July to be exact. And as well as bringing back my Josephine, I’m making this outfit from Skyrim:
I kinda like making costumes. My brain just likes to break down a costume to it’s component parts and search the Googles for tutorials, which makes it less complicated.
(also, I try like hell not to look at the total when Don pays for the supplies. Last time I had a panic attack)
So, as you can see, Serana looks like she’s wearing a buttload of leather. I’m not working with leather. It’s expensive as hell and CONvergence is in the fucking summer. Thankfully, I found this really neat tutorial on Deviant Art that I’m giving a try. I started with something small, gauntlets. See how it works!
So far so good. And i’m glad, because I have a cloak and a belt and corset and boot covers and a whatever that butt cover thing is to make look similar.
And that’s my Friday!
Oh wait, EXO came out with two new songs and I’m in love again. You know what that means?
Damn near every time a shooting happens with an identifiable gun, the same shit happens:
“That’s not a BLAHBLAH, it’s actually a BLAHBLAH.”
“…YADDA YADDA automatic YADDA YADDA semi-automatic YADDA YADDA…”
Suddenly everyone becomes a fucking gun expert, whipping out their knowledge, trying to ‘splain to people who are angry, upset, or mourning that they’re don’t know what they’re talking about.
I know this goes against all things skeptical, but I DON’T CARE. No. Really. I don’t.
And I’ve held, loaded, and fired guns more than twice, so I’m not gonna faint at the mere mention of a gun.
You know why I don’t care? Because if it can kill dozens of people in a matter of seconds, a citizen does not fucking need it. Ever. Not in this fucking country. Semi/automatic, extended clip, what the fuck ever. It’s not needed to hunt (if you can’t hunt without attempting to shower your quarry with bullets, you’re a shittier hunter than I am – and I can barely hit anything with a .22 rifle). It’s not needed for self-defense. It’s not necessary.
Of all of the guns that ought to be “taken”, these types are top of my list. You don’t fucking need it.
…and that was in my mind while I mourn with my fellow queers.
…ends today. Shit, I didn’t even know.
Confession: I feel weird when people around me talk about their “how did I convert to atheism/secular humanism” stories.
Most go like “I was involved in such-and-such religion for blah years and then I read this book/listened to this podcast/observed some non-believing person in my life”, which is inspiring and awesome and should be shared with the world.
…and I’m sitting there like, “Officially? I was 12. Read the Bible from front to back. It didn’t mention dinosaurs. None of the Bible stories I was told made sense.”
So it’s been about a week into my two week long break from social media (no, blogging doesn’t count because I still have things in my head that gotta come out), and here’s what’s going on so far:
Thar be a picture heavy blogpost here, just be warned.
I’m going to let y’all in on a little secret: I can be a bit of a ditz sometimes.
There’s a trait in Sims 3 called “Absent-Minded” which means the Sim will sometimes just forget that it was doing. It me. It so me.
Which makes it super difficult for me when I’m working in a group for a Thing. I’ll get excited, pile on responsibilities…and flake out when yet again, I’ve taken on too much. You name it, secular organizations, theater groups, Second Life roleplaying sims, I get burned out like a mofo quick.
It’s been a source of stress for me, which sometimes leads to me not doing anything. Not signing up or showing up or getting involved in shit. Which for someone who wants to do more, sucks rancid goat balls.
Once I got my poor folks insurance way back in 2009, and once I was settled in Minneasota, I started the path of “Okay, I know I’m depressed and shit makes me anxious, how do I fix it?”. Said path was like those haunted house rides you see at the midway of carnivals.
Hey, Feminace, you’ve never been on those rides because sudden jumpscares make you cry.
Actually, “exaggerated startle response” was the first of many words I learned in this path. “Generalized Anxiety Disorder” was another. “Borderline Personality Disorder” was something I’d only heard of in that movie with Winona Ryder where one girl stashed rotten eaten chickens under her bed. I knew what “PTSD” meant, but never thought it could ever apply to me.
And finally “Inattentive ADD”.
I was a straight A student growing up. I never made a mess, and from ages 12 to 19 I was tasked with cleaning not just my room, but the entire house twice a week. My room – spotless. Teachers loved me. Administrators gave me special projects to do, like raising the flag in the morning, which I did faithfully on time. How in all of the hells could I have ADD?
Insert some research of my own here, and little more there, and some more over yonder, and whelp, guess I was wrong.
My grades and cleanliness were expectations imposed on me – the second I got out of the house, I couldn’t keep my space clean to save my life. As for my grades, a combination of never learning how to study, being in a major I didn’t want to be, and depression and anxiety lead to me nearly ending it all, and dropping out of college in the second year.
Now, even medicated up the wazoo (I have an app that lists all of the meds I’m taking), I have a hard time starting projects. My desk remains a mess, shoved over to make room for Weasel to demand pets and doze off.
Mostly importantly, I have a hard time doing shit that is expected of me. I hem and haw. I freeze, not knowing where to start. I flail, and then I flake.
As I try to understand the funhouse horror show/cast of characters that is how my brain works, I had to finally speak up.
When I was tapped to be part of this merry band of bloggers, I was asked if there were any accommodations that I would need to make working with these folks possible/easier.
And I spoke up, and plainly. “Look, I’m not good with keeping on task. I need my hand held. I need to be checked in on.”
Saying it made me teary. It felt like admitting to being a failure as an adult who is supposed to have her shit together already.
But it wasn’t a problem. And so I started making it known to other things that I had to do that involved other people – my forum-based RP group, the party room committee for CONvergence, my own partner.
It’s never going to get more comfortable for me, but I hope that in the long run, I’ll be more reliable to others.
And since writing this is making me sad, I need something to cheer me up. Y’all know what that means: