Grim November

It has been some time, and so I will explain.

Things began to be sour, I think, in August. Habits which were endurable in the short term so long as they were being worked on and would improve over time seemed to worsen, signs of improving grew sparse or there seemed to be subconscious resentment at the pressure.

Too much responsibility was placed on me.

There was cause, of course; there were extenuating circumstances. My Stars left their job, trusting to another to support us, and then he lost his job too. And there was much discouragement and despondency. None of us were in fit shape to carry the limp weight of the others while we were robbed of strength. And so I did my best at times, but neither was I - and I lashed out and growled and broke down often under the strain, so little rewarded, so little relieved.

I believe I am still blamed for my failure to hold up the heads of my companions during that time, as well as my own, but I plead that it was not within my power, and ought not have been expected of me. I had not enough participation. I had not enough support. I had not enough compensation to see me through it, not enough nor gentle enough reminders; reminders which are invitations, rather than chastisements.

Of course, it is an advanced difficulty to succeed, with me, to my standard, in giving invitation and not chastisement.

But this is how it went on. I carried far too much, seeking not to let others down, but I must in the end. My patience, my spirit, was overloaded for quite some time, and my vulnerabilities pricked when I was gathering enough air and lift to begin to get somewhere, such that that liveliness would easily and swiftly drain away, and I would lie again lifeless in a wasteland of bitterness.

I do not say that I held no responsibility nor blame for these cycles - O, I was part of them. My failure to speak my boundaries while I could still do so without cursing made things worse. I was at times negligent. I was at times evasive.

And so it went, and until I had a room of privacy to myself for a while (the gift of interim hosts in the city of Kitchener, and O my great gratitude to them for the privilege), for six months I had no place I could retreat to which was mine to be alone in, mine to rest in, and not need to share it, neither night nor day. Looking back it shocks me that I lived so long in these conditions, and I did not seem to realize that that was a problem.

Of course, I was caught up in wanting to be there, be present for Stars if they needed physical assistance to get up, and perhaps then, I ignored my own need for privacy, for a crook I could lay in on my own and be undisturbed. There are reasons for this, of course, reasons. But O it was surely a part of my growing twisted and impatient and bitter.

And so it went until a particularly bright-careless and manipulative episode, of some of my love's worst habits. And then I told them I would not marry them. Not now, not like this. And so I would need to return North and leave the country, for I had no other legal basis to stay. And it was sad and sour but felt necessary.

We moved several times, because as everything descended into a slough of despond, we would not organize cohesively enough to close a rental agreement and did not have a place to go by the ending of the old lease. And so there was a hotel one night, and an Airbnb for a half-week, and then another Airbnb for the rest of the month, with our things in a storage locker a long drive outside town, near to where we had hoped to rent a place, but it was a scam. A scam we would ordinarily have spotted, but we were desperate for a place by that time, of course.

Much of our things have been left behind. My friends I leave with less, materially, than they had before, and some bitter memories of my impatience and desperation and the guilt of having drawn it. But still though, my friends I leave in a pleasant place, a roomy apartment somewhat bare but well outfitted with such things as the kitchen that came with it. I leave them in a place with an extendable lease and the flexibility to adjust time there, so that they may be sure of their next leap's landing before arranging to leave. I leave them nearer to some people who have been friends of ours, that we wished to be close to... And still do now, but less so. Less, for there has been loss and grief and disappointment.

I leave my friends and I hope very dearly that I leave them better for having spent time with me rather than worse, for all that they have less materially now and our lessons from each other have been grim. November was a very slow, very sad and waiting and grieving month for me this year.

I hope to pick up my project again. I have not done so quite yet. I have a bit more of ensuring my next living-space to do first. I was in no condition then, really no condition for it.

And that is how it went.

Predations of Fatigue

Both yesterday and today, I slept partly through my first class. Yesterday it was deliberate after a late night. Today it was not. I feel exhausted despite a long sleep last night, early as well as late. I woke up around 4:30 and spoke to my friends a little before bedding back down.

This seems to continue the pattern whereby I feel the affects of a shortened sleep cycle a full day afterwards, but it also feels awfully like the draining fatigue that consumed my days that one summer when I was on a sapping antidepressant which made me angry and exhausted at every moment.

I am unsure whether energy drinks would help; I seem to develop a dependence on them. Or whether in order to really be able to talk to my American friends at all I will have to establish a habit of sleeping early and waking part way through. As to my other friends... I notice that I have not heard from one in over a month despite fairly proactive polite prodding on my part. There is another, too, who has gone silent, and I am concerned for them both.

So full of my tired after my first class today that I walked outside where it was cold but not crowded or trafficked, brushed the grass and found that it was wet, and so experimentally lay down on cold bricks with my backpack under my head. The downside, of course, was that in the central area where these bricks were, this would not fail to attract attention. Some students from off somewhere laughed, and one called out to another to ask me if I was alright, make sure I had a pulse. It made me angry. Without opening my eyes or lifting my head I flipped them off with a raised hand.

In retrospect I felt bad for it... but it reminded me too much of those scenes of my high school years when guffawing and teasing boys would dare and cajole one another to talk to me or ask to kiss me. If you cared so much, the one who called, would you not come forward yourself? Staff men walked out to ask me if I needed to see a nurse... of course. I told them no, I was not sick, just tired, and they went away, but they had had loud voices and all the attention of eccentricity was playing on my mind. I began to feel points of colder; an inkling of rain. Reluctantly, I got up and left, but I still feel dizzy with tired.

I wonder what will be the fallout of this scant few minutes of being visibly strange. In this mood, under this fatigue, I cannot but expect the worst, but I think I will buy an energy drink to see if it helps me through the afternoon.

In other news, last night at the archery club, one of our trainee archers flailed at release (maybe the thing that our lead coach mentioned to me; someone releasing the arrow when it jumped the arrowrest, instead of calmly relaxing the draw and putting it back) and the arrow flew high and wide and hit one of the second-floor gym windows with a mighty sound. The arrow bounced off and landed among the bleachers. The window cracked outward in a spiderweb pattern from the point of impact, but did not break. Good safety windows, then. We kept training but carefully and restricted from approaching the area under the cracked window, until staff came and instructed us to leave.

Regularly two hours, our monday club meet was down to half a one. I had extra time; I shopped and cooked with it. The beginning of my week is highly mixed. I kind of hope I will be able to adjust my sleeping habits to offer me more consistency, more consistent energy.

Dear Memory: Back and Forward

Good morning, Eoin. I've had a pretty crazy week. If I were to presume I were bipolar, I would conclude that I have begun to shift back into the manic side of my cycle. I have slept relatively little recently... Although, naturally, it doesn't help that yet again I am in a house where I have grown to resent some of my roommates, and just about every noise I hear from them, which frequently happens late at night.

On the upside, much of the effect comes from happier things. I am attending more of my classes now... Although, still not all of them. I have grown closer and more intimate with some new friends, and have done some batches of writing. A sequence of three posts here which were explicitly about rationality for once. I plan to repost them at LessWrong (I can do that, apparently; it's a community blog now, with many contributors). A short story, a little over 900 words, which captured an idea that I got caught up in my head while I was out walking. I have been out walking a lot again, too. That also feels good. I have been very happy with the success I had in capturing and conveying out the idea. I got a prettier story out of it than I expected. It's viscerally violent, and yet transhumanist and optimistic.

I joined a bunch more Discord servers, and have been actually spending some time discussing things with some people who confuse and intimidate me with their high standards and down-to-business modes of communicating. I have been managing to resist the temptation to stop and ask for reassurance that I'm actually wanted there. Partly because one of the most no-nonsense of the bunch told me frankly that I was too valuable to discard just because I was weird, and was also very open about being annoyed with me a couple of times. I haven't always understood why. But he's not making a habit of hiding it if he has an issue with me.

Besides that, I find myself thinking... If I were to ask, and he told me that I was appreciated and welcome, it probably wouldn't help me for very long. If he were to tell me I wasn't, or that it was a stretch, it wouldn't help me at all. It may simply be that he projects an attitude of such greater knowledge, and engrossed preoccupation with greater and more important affairs, that I find myself instinctively assuming that it would genuinely be a colossal waste of his time. Or perhaps, more accurately, I would expect him to find it annoying again and get another minor swat to the ego because I ought to know better. And I kind of do.

I still think it's still important I have friends I can be vulnerable with, away from this high-tension scene. And again... I do.

I finally submitted my college applications to five of the six ITs in Ireland that I had planned to. Just to wait for responses now, on that front.

I think of you often. I have often had trouble getting a half-hour of work into my applications, because facing the task brought you to mind as thoroughly as ever. I imagine singing duets with you. Dancing with you. Cooking with you. Walking with you. Do you know what I remembered, the other day?

When I first showed you my little facial expressions ice breaker game, and you decided to read your subjects first, and the first one was "OK Go". And I think I must have looked magnificently baffled. "What? I thought you were going first...?"
Do you remember it, Eoin? Ah, such fun and silly times.

In... about three hours, at 10 AM, I have a Law test to write. I actually spent a couple of hours studying for it, for once. Although, to be fair, we have a really good practice resource for this course, in the form of a bunch of content quizzes with questions of exactly the same sort as will be on the exam, which auto-grades itself and can be taken as many times as we might wish. We also get a single page of notes we're allowed to bring in with us. So I did all of the quizzes relevant to the content, and I took notes on all the questions I had a hard time remembering the right answers to, or got wrong the first time around, and the principles on which they were based.

I haven't slept, although I am tired. I might actually manage to get some rest for two of those three hours, and then more after the test. I tried laying down, but my back was stiff and sore and my mind not particularly conditioned for sleep. I had been searching through my paperwork, looking for documents relevant to filing my taxes... That may have had something to do with it. Or, then, perhaps it had less to do with that than some of the things I found that had nothing whatsoever to do with tax.

I still keep scribbed notes and poetry, and especially drawings, from many years ago, even some of the ones that just seem dumb to me at this point. I happened upon a piece of writing that wasn't fiction. It was a little bitter reminder of just how insane I've been, at my worst... the times when I felt myself and my control, slipping, slipping. If we do get back together, and I read you these blog posts... Remind me, sometime, to read you my notes from The Day Everything Changed. It is not a pretty story. It is not a proud story. But it is a true story. And I remember hearing you voice your fears to me once, when I was in one of the worse fits I ever had while I was with you, that you weren't good for me. That you might be making things worse.

I think, perhaps... you will not think so anymore, after I tell you a story, not from memory, but from a record written on the same day, and never edited or changed since, about how bad it really was, once, quite some time before I met you. And yet, still not really all that long ago. You cannot realize how far I've come, until you can see the depths where I've been. I have to admit that I had almost forgotten how very little time has passed, and how truly awful it used to be. The feeling of slipping, slipping... and being afraid, a kind of visceral, in-the-moment dread, that I might not be able to maintain control of my own actions. Not even in my usual fallback manner of shutting them down entirely.

It's amazing to me how far I've come, these past few years.

Rationality: Mitigate the Loss; Fight for the Living

This post is an addendum to Rationality: A Different Prisoner's Dilemma. It is another scenario with which to demonstrate the point.

Imagine that you are a person in a horrible and traumatic situation. The love of your life, the parent of your children, has been burned to death, deliberately. Capital punishment, imposed by a culture that believes some sins are so horrible that they demand this gruesome torture to balance the scales. The whole future you dreamed of having together has gone up in flames, and you are sick with grief and loss and pain.

Some people would be tempted to fling themselves into the flames as well. You probably do think of it, at least once, as you stand there, watching the pyre blaze. Some people will even think that this is the morally right thing to do, and will judge you for not committing suicide. They will think that you didn't really love the one you have lost, if you are able to stay standing and move on without them.

If it is your aim to reduce suffering and death in the world, however, then this impulse and any social pressure behind it is your enemy. If you leap onto the pyre to be burned as well, or hang yourself from a beam at home, or stop taking meals and waste away into nothingness, regardless of the method of your self-destruction, what will it achieve?

Your friends will be hurt. Your community will be hurt. Anyone who depended on your skills and experience and work ethic will be hurt. You will be destroyed, and your children will now have lost both of their parents. It will not bring your lover back.

Furthermore, you will have validated the idea that your suicide was moral. You will have set an example of surrendering to grief instead of coping with it. Others may be tempted, they might believe it was right, to follow you just as you followed your beloved spouse, directly into the grave. Is that something you could possibly want for your children?

You wail. You gnash your teeth and flail your arms and cry late into the night and hold your vigil. Death and suffering have struck you especially close to your heart, and you feel the loss, and you need to express it, but you must not let it consume you as well. If you let that happen, death wins. It claims two casualties for the price of one, and there is one less person working to prevent future suffering.

If you understand this, and you gird up your heart and throw yourself into your duties and refuse to distance yourself from your children... and cry and grieve, yes, in quiet moments, alone under the moon... the people around you may be shocked. They may persecute you, calling you cold or unnatural. They will say that you do not understand what it is to love.

They will be wrong.

It may seem to you, for a time, that life is not worth living to you anymore. But you will keep going because your spouse is not the only person you love, and is not the only person who needs you. Even if you believe it is a fact as normal and obvious as the sun rising tomorrow that you will be together again in heaven after you die... You should not then believe that the right thing to do is to hasten that reunion. There are still things left to do here first, and the right thing is to get them done.

The story I have just told is a story about the Sunk Cost Fallacy, applied to human life.

If you were to turn a blind eye to the needs of the world as it continues to turn, if you forget your duties in the pain of being robbed of something that was precious to you. If you couldn't let go of someone or something you loved, even though there was no way to get it back. That's the sunk cost fallacy leading you to neglect the people who still need you, and ignore the importance of things you still have the chance to save.

If, reading this, you can understand how much it hurts to let the dream that you could have been together with your loved ones forever fall away from you as something that can never happen; if you can understand how it could be tempting to follow that dream and step into the fire... but you can also understand why you have a duty to let go, for now, and focus on what can still be done... then take a moment to notice how it feels. The feeling of facing a lose/lose scenario, and having to make the best of a genuinely terrible situation.

Watch out for the moments in your own life when your heart sinks and you see something falling apart and you really, really, really don't want it to. Remember your duties to the people that still rely on you. Remember that even if you can't feel happy about it, there are other things you need to get done, and try not to let your despair cloud your vision while looking to see how much you can salvage out of the situation. That's the key to overcoming the sunk cost fallacy.

Return to Mud

I've been depressed and tired.

I'm on a new medication for anxiety and obsessive compulsive disorder that a psychologist I saw at Victoria Hospital prescribed me, but I am not convinced it's doing anything. It may even be contributing to the problem for all I know. Or possibly that's more to do with the adjustment to my thyroid supplements that came at about the same time.

My moods seem, if anything, even more swingy recently. My room is becoming a mess again after I cleaned it. The plants I was watering have begun to wilt and fall over, the roots coming to the surface rather than good strong stem all the way down. I think I even saw some whitish mold starting to grow in the pots. Robby suggested moving them to my room where they should get more direct sunlight from my window than they do from the living room one, because that usually has a sheet over it. It's a good idea. I'm just waiting for a time when I have enough energy to feel like I can and want to do anything beyond work, which is continuing to wear me down. And of course I am still plagued by anxiety about whether I am performing well enough to be valuable, rather than just another replaceable part.

Our roommate's girlfriend didn't really keep interacting with me during her second week here, and didn't even clean up much beyond the first whirl of activity, so things are back to their old habitual ways of constantly falling into mess. Not that I can say I'm doing a lot about it.

The worst parts for me are that late into the night I can hear my boyfriend talking online, through my bedroom wall, and the ceiling creaks and thuds above me both late at night and early enough in the morning that it's hard to get a good night's sleep and I can rarely get back to sleep for a little extra rest if I wake up early or just tired.

That and an increasing feeling of hostility between me and our other roommate, over whom I have no influence, and who tends to mess up the kitchen and not clean it.

That and the internet is constantly choked and hideously slow. Sometimes service will pick up for a while only to lag to crap again in the middle of something, or disappear so completely that pages or videos won't even load. Our upload speed is abysmal, so we can't properly share things with our friends online. There is hopefully something that could be done about this if we harassed our ISP about it enough, but Robby is understandably reluctant to do so. He's bogged down, too.

Throughout all this, some really good, neat things have gone on. I've just recently finished a really good book, I started a new Let's Play of an old game I used to love, and even sketched a few nice pictures a while back. Robby has been supportive, loving and sexy. We kiss a lot more than we used to. But somehow I can't seem to hold on to the good energy of any of those things. I keep dreaming about bedbugs, and feeling trapped in a room surrounded by hostility and mess and invaded by noise...

I want to be living somewhere else, with just Robby and me, a slightly smaller, cozier, quieter place, with more counter space in the kitchen. A place we control together, co-operatively. A place that is ours.

Frustrating Day

I spent the last several days with my love, recovering from a deep abyss of sleep deprivation and fatigue that I'd fallen into over the previous week or two. I started staying up all night over my Christmas holiday, and couldn't seem to break the habit. I've had troubles like this all my life, and unfortunately, the more important it is to get to sleep at a reasonable time, the less it happens, because the importance only creates urgency and anxiety, which does not induce restful slumber, but only adds to insomnia.

I started prioritizing sleep, and thought I'd managed to get it back into pattern. But now I'm back home... and although I've been in a muzzy, confused haze of blah all evening, now that night's come and I should be sleeping, I'm wide awake and my chest feels coiled tight like a spring, and alert as a hunted mouse. Through the haze, I suspected there might be something I'm avoiding facing, because I felt an urgency to keep myself occupied; moreso than usual, though I have rarely found it easy to really relax. Now, after a shower in which I briefly wandered off into relaxed fantasy, but only became tense again at the thought that tonight, it's actually important I get to sleep, because I work in the morning... I think I may understand why my body is registering this sense of panic or grief.

A couple of days ago, my boyfriend called me after work, while he was getting to the bus to get home, and told me that he was being retired along with all the other seasonal staff at EB Games. The higher ups were determined not to keep on any of the seasonal staff. On the upside, he had made a fantastic impression and was now at the top of the list of people that his branch would call on if they needed someone... But that still means that after his last couple of scheduled days, the last one being tomorrow, he's out of work until he finds another position - with EB Games or otherwise. Now, at this point, I think he's proven sufficiently that he can find work, and I don't need to worry to much about his ability to support himself in job searching and in the mean time... But it does mean that according to our plans, I won't be moving in with him for another five months at least, probably half a year, and I have been looking forward to it with aching intensity. It has been extremely annoying having to wait. The place I'm in is certainly not all that bad, but it doesn't have my boyfriend in it, and the place he's in is rather awful. We will be able to save a lot of money living together, too. Everything is inefficient now. Spending time together takes too much arranging. Ensuring that Robby is well fed, heck, even cooking for myself, is complicated by not having my own kitchen (I share mine with my landlord). The next few months may be tighter for finance, with my after-Christmas hours scheduled to be reduced, and Robby's earning opportunities completely unknown as yet.

Aside from all that, in parallel, I think I am deciding to be done with the Pup again... And having once taken him back after such a final decision, I think and hope that I will not be so foolish again.

All things considered, I suppose I do have fair reason to be stressed. That helps. Feeling that my pain is significant even from an outside perspective helps me to forgive myself for getting caught up in it, and forgiveness is the key to freedom...

I do not know what to say now.

Goodnight... Though I do not know when I will sleep, or how many more nights I will be restless.

Quiet

In the last few hours of my work day, I found good feelings again. The fog seemed to lift just after Leah asked me to sweep the carpets at the end of the day. Though she ended up arranging to borrow a vacuum cleaner from her sister that worked better than any of the ones we'd had in the store before. They keep getting lost or sold or broken or something.

I told Helen about my worries about not having a place to live. She seemed kind of shocked, and insisted that we'd find something and I wouldn't have to go back to the Center of Hope, but I think she was saying it because she didn't want to believe in the reality of that happening to someone she knew.

I walked home feeling feeble and regressed. In my mind, I am lucid - I can think fine, and can describe how it is I'm feeling... in text, anyway, speaking comes difficult... But I feel like a lost toddler, trying to be brave, but confused and scared. My sense of self seems to float, disconnected from things. I have an impulse to reach out to people, but also an impulse to hide and retreat from them, especially if they might not have time for me. I am keenly self-conscious, and afraid of doing something wrong.

For the moment, I feel okay, but very delicate; I am held together, but not very strongly, and I feel I could fall apart very easily; I am balanced for now, but I could very easily fall.

I wonder how long this will last, and what will happen next.

And I prepare myself to move back into the Center of Hope. I have so nearly accepted it as inevitable that I am almost determined for it to be the next part of my story.

Fear

I've been reading Autobiography of a Schizophrenic Girl. It's probably not been the best idea for keeping a positive attitude. I haven't mentioned it here yet, but I had my three months' probation end meeting, and it was a rather difficult awakening for me. My punctuality and my attitude both needed work, but my managers seemed to think I could do it. I've been doing well, and I think I generally can, too.

Today... yesterday, I heard from our most recently applied to potential landlord that he probably won't have an answer for us regarding whether we have approval to stay there until mid week at the earliest. We have gotten two rejections so far. There will be little to no time after this week for even one more chance. Today... I woke up sluggish and took the bus rather than walking, for the first time in a while. Today... I spent the first two hours at work mostly cleaning and mopping...

And I feel... so tired. I can think of nothing except the dread of going back to the Center of Hope, the place from which I was taken to that little room with the port-hole window and the straps on the bed, because I was so upset and stressed I could not speak... Where even if I can get a private room, paying for my lodging, which is not, as far as I know, guaranteed, it seems likely I would still have to get my pills every day in the morning in the narrow time slot alloted for it or ask for an extra dose for the following days. Have to confirm and clear my schedule through someone else every day, in several ways...

I've been doing reasonably well before now at keeping a positive attitude. I've been getting lots of rest and eating fruit and enjoying the music here at work. Today, I feel haunted, and dread the thought that I will fail my extended probation as well, and lose the job I've worked hard to get, and keep.

I don't feel able to smile right now...

Indomitable

My feet are still recovering from the intense soreness of wearing unaccustomed shoes for six hours, most of it spent walking at work and walking home from work. My boyfriend was laid off yesterday and I have no idea whether our rental application for the house we want to live in together will be approved in light of this. I'm not sure whether my own job with Goodwill will end with my end of probation assessment like Robby's did, or continue. And yet. I'm smiling today.

I was smiling even before I got online and discovered that the solo play-by-post D&D game I've been participating in for two years on and off has reached a head in the most awesome of ways. I was smiling while I was walking home noticing that the seam in the left side of my left shoe was starting to hurt my flesh and thinking to myself I wouldn't be terribly surprised if I took it off to see blood there.

Somehow, this time of trials is only waking me up and making me feel strong and ready for the adventure. I have faced worse than this, and I will face this too. I will be there for Robby and help him find work again. I will support us in the interim, whether we have to look for a different place from the one we were hoping for or not. Even if I lose my own job... I'll find another one. The stakes are high. The race is staggering. The stage is set...

And I am afraid...

And I will be victorious.

One More Last Conversation

(uncut conversation from my chat history on gmail, names censored out and timestamps removed)

(Pup's text is in yellow, mine is in red)

[Name Removed] is inviting you to use Google voice and video chat. Get started at http://www.google.com/chat/video

(16 minutes pass)

[Name Removed], I don't think you want to hear from me, but there are some things larger than you and I that need to be talked about

We've got six people waiting for us to put aside this nonsense and either figure out how we're going to do dnd, or not do dnd, without you, and we have the issue of my plane ticket to discuss

I don't know what you're talking about, but you might have considered it before you pushed the "leave" button. You're not my responsibility anymore.

I'm not here to assign blame, one way or another. We both made stupid decisions and held one another to words said in pain

I'm not asking you to do this for me

do it for [Name Removed] and [Name Removed] and [Name Removed] and [Name Removed] and [Name Removed]

Another word about it, and I'll block you here too.
Don't think I won't.
Anyone who wants to talk to me about D&D or anything else is perfectly free to do so on their own accord. They've got my Skype.
And if they don't, you can give it to them.

as for the issue of the plane ticket that was meant to bring me up there on my birthday, 15 days from now?

No-one told me about it.

Correct, it was my secret plan

huh, interesting that - crosse out the text

Yeah. Italics uses underscores.
Like this.

kk

so yes, when I said I could help out with the secret plan, I really meant it

I was prepared to be up there, come hell or high water

Too bad you broke it. Again. By acting out and I guess expecting to be rewarded for things there was no way I could possibly have known you were doing. Again.

No, I don't expect a reward, I should have been upfront and said why I was so upset

You do tend to have a habit of pushing me well past the breaking point right when you allegedly had something great around the corner.

you're right, I do, and that's because I get stressed about the great thing

I have no reason to believe you, Pup. Your "I'm leaving" was a bluff. A bluff to hurt and punish me.
As were threats to die that night.
As, I have no reason to disbelieve, is this.

The threats were real, and not meant to hurt you, I was trying to express how much I depended on the positives you did for me, and how, even upset like that, I knew they weren't worth losing

and I didn't stop myself from letting that happen

I got angry and vunerable

and I realize that cost me our relationship, if we still had one at that point

I think that's why I kept going, I felt like it was lost anyway

but regardless, I'm not here to ask for that back

I feel like you've made it clear that you don't care about me in that way anymore, and if that's not the case, feel free to speak up

what I'm here to ask is, does the last six months really have to go up in smoke like this, over something as pointless as this?

your feelings aren't pointless

but in a more rational state of mind, to me, me being second or first is pointless

what matters, and what should have mattered at the time, was that you put any time into me

Come to the point, you fuck. If you have practical matters to discuss, discuss them before you lose the chance. Or you will. You have been warned.

I want to go back to being friends. I know I hurt you, and I can't excuse that. I want to believe you still care about me, and that's why I spent the last few days thinking about what all of this cost me. I can't learn anything if I'm not let back in, and it's not your job to let me learn anything, but what you said that night seemed to me to be an indication that you hoped i learned from my mistakes and fixed them

Three.

Three?

*nods, and glares calmly*

+is worried that there is now a limit on how much time I have, or how many words I can say+ I shouldn't have blocked you, and I shouldn't have said it would be permanent. What I needed, and I see it now and didn't then, was time away from you, to appreciate you properly again. I got addicted to having you around, and I was paniciking at even the slightest reduction, not thinking that it would be far worse to go without you, because you can't be replaced

Two. *snarls softly, wonders if you've ever played KOTOR*

I have, and if I have a right to ask, could you please explain what the counting is for, so that I know where I'm making a mistake (unless the point is pattern recognition)

It seems like it might be every time I ask for you to come back into my life, but I'm unsure

I am counting down. I reach zero, you're blocked. Practical matters, Pup. None of this groveling.

thank you. the practical matter is that I miss doing things like hanging out watching Grimith with you, playing Dnd and Diablo 2 with you, and just having someone smart to talk to, and I'm here to ask if we can have that back, or if even that is gone forever

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pRziqt-LqY

Which one of us is the dumped?

I wouldn't blame you or say you're wrong eithr way

Who's the one asking and groveling for forgiveness?

I am.

You figure it the fuck out.

+chuckle+ I think that, in the context of this, it was you

you'r the one who I think was hurt the most

I'm not sure I see it.

You were trying to make things work for me, bending over backwards to help me, when I was being a bitch and clawing at you and ran

I was being an ass, and I thought I was doing the right thing by up and leaving, but I should have said that, not turned it into a threat

One.
/me sighs.
I have something for you.

Yes?

There was a song I wanted to sing you, remember? That I thought you could really stand to hear. This is that song. Video, then lyrics page.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUlHcehNRPQ
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/dave+matthews+band/pig_20036493.html
The night you left me, I was afraid you might die before hearing it.
Because I was a moron and still took you seriously enough to believe it could happen.

you weren't a moron serp

[Name Removed] found me

If you want me to believe a fucking thing you say, prove it.

tell me how to prove he caught me crying up in my room about you, muttering that I was going to die, and I will do it

If you can't prove it, then how convenient, and congratulations, you are the next contestant on The Price is Fucked.

I didn't mean that

I want to know what proof would be sufficent for you

I'll provide it, I just need to know

To let you go, I had to get angry enough at you to cross the line of "Die then. Just don't do it in front of me."
I am not coming back.

That's what I was here to find out, if you ever thought you could

if we coudl be friends in two and a half hyears

years*

Ask me in two and a half years.
Ask me maybe if I made any progress on the fucking Secret Plan.

Will you have?

I mean, the way I'm hearing it

you don't intend to anymore

How the fuck do I know? Maybe if [Name Removed]'s an adventurer too and wants to take your place. Or some other fuck two or three more fucking heartbreaks down the road.

ah, secret plan, but without me

I don't know how to say what I'm feeling right now without sounding like I'm groveling

Well, I don't actually expect you to contact me in two and a half years.
Then don't speak.
You're out of chances.

You give me a day and time, and I'll contact you, on the nose, as long as I know you'll respond

what I won't do is wait around for months and months, never knowing if you're coming back

I'm not coming back.
I'm going the fuck forward.
I'll be a different person in two and a half years.

Then how am I supposed to learn and fix this?

That's on you.
Maybe you should grovel and ask [Name Removed].

the problem is between you and I

I can't fix it if I'm not allowed to try

And I can't make you let me fix it

*sighs out, and twitches her nose, and taps her foot*

Groveling won't help me fix the problem, so I'm going to be blunt about it, and honest

You gave me a chance on valentines, and I blew that

Another around my birthday.

And I lost my last chance two weeks before mine

I ask you to give me until that

until the 20th

to fix this

Life sucks, dunnit.
You don't get free points for bad timing.

I realize, and if I ever did, I definitely used them up

You saw I was making progress the last week or so

I want to show you the progress I made from the lesson you gave me in the last few days

You wanna show up in a plane, I wouldn't have a place to put you, but I could probably figure something out. You going to show up in a plane, presumably at the London airport, tell me when. Day and hour. I'll meet you there. But expect to be searched for weapons and a high level suspect of intent to kill out of vengeance. If you're bluffing, and you've got nothing, don't talk to me. If you piss me off, I will block you, and if you can't give me a date and time on account of being blocked, any semblance of a plan is off.
If you don't already have your ticket, or it isn't nonrefundable, I don't recommend bothering.

If you really think I would lay a hand on you, under any circumstancse, or that I could sneak such a weapon onto a plane, there are other issues at work here, but aside from that, I ripped up the ticket

*laughs like a bark*
Bye, then, Pup.

Serp...

I will buy another if that' what this is about

if that's what it takes to fix this, I will

Nothing will fix this. I'm done waiting.
You failed.

waiting for what?

Tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it, right now

For you to become worth my time.
You failed.
Fuck off.

And me willing to do anything for you doesn't count for anything in this?

Zero.

Rumination

It is nearly 3 in the morning, in a week in which I've been in bed long before midnight every day. I have a meeting tomorrow... Not with OW, not a job interview... A meeting with my worker at Goodwill. I am, for some reason, terrified, and although I know in my mind that there is no reason whatsoever to expect he will be anything less than impressed and encouraging at how much I have accomplished, learned, and done over the past few months, what I actually expect in my heart is to be told that I am an utter failure at job searching and at life no matter how hard I try. I have been feeling a deep malaise for the past two days, drifting between a depressed despondency and the edge of panic. I'm quite aware of it, and it's driving me crazy. I know I'm being irrational, but the capacity I seemed to have a couple of weeks ago to simply stop seems to have evaporated somewhere. Could it have something to do with the two consecutive days last week that I missed taking my pill because I'd forgotten to get more of them? Am I just really this insecure about not doing everything the way my Goodwill workshops advised me to? Is this a hellish conspiracy between my menstrual cycle and my self-destructiveness to throw me into the most hormonal mess I'll be in all month at a very important time?

None of my progress has been undone... And yet it all seems empty. I can repeat in my mind that I've come a long way and done a great deal, I can list my accomplishments - among them the fact that I've gotten two shifts of paid freelance work from my job searching... and none of it is enough for my inner critic. Why? I was capable of being so self-assured last fortnight...

I think I know why. I spent a modest chunk of Thursday and Friday last week job searching online, and it was completely fruitless. I tried posting ads for service on Kijiji, and got three responses: one asking if I was interested in a pure commission job from home, which I am not, and the other two, one duplicated across two ads, from characters who read as sexual predators seeking prey significantly less wary and streetwise than I. This abject failure and reminder of the dark side of humanity has been a harrowing and exhausting experience and has drained heavily on my hope. That's probably got a great deal to do with it. I feel I've been doing everything wrong because as of this writing, my last attempt was a horrid failure and it leaves me feeling incompetent and doomed.

Hopefully, then, moving past this to some other try, probably using a slightly different medium, will refresh and reinvigorate me. I am glad I was able to identify the seed of my malaise. Now, powers willing, may I move past it, and present myself and my accomplishments with the pride I deserve in my meeting?

Moody Blues

I have been in a bad mood for a while. I have not gotten to training yet... My on the job training has been delayed a week due to a store that apparently decided not to host an awesome promotion, and there therefore being no on the job to train in.

Also, my ex who I've been badgering to come and hang out and help me practice my script, by reading along while I say it without looking and letting me know if I miss anything, has yet again decided he had to bail because his damaged back is giving him problems and he doesn't want to spend much time out and about as a result. This is profoundly frustrating. At this point, the most useful form of practice would really need the participation of someone else.

I've been generally angry for quite a few days, and often can't pin down a particular reason why. Just little things: There aren't enough groceries, I'm impatient to get to on-the-job training and the company doesn't seem to ever follow through with anything, even sending me a phone number they said they'd send me... Maybe I'm PMSing? Puppy's having a meltdown and saying that while he loves me and is satisfied with me, he's pining for a feeling of choice and control over his relationships, the feeling that he has more options than this crazy girl who dropped out of the internet and came on to him or being alone. And given that he's Aspie and has a very hard time knowing how the hell to maneuver social stuff, he feels entirely stuck as to how to accomplish that sense of choice and control over his life.

I find it damn near impossible to take this gracefully in my recent state of mind.

Grr. Rargle. Ruff ruff ruff. I am a raging bloody tempest, sulking over here in a corner. I am a berserker queen who has been denied cake. Life sucks and I want a happy. Why I can no has!?

The Sweet Delays

My training with the new company has been delayed a week, unfortunately. I suppose this gives me more time to practice my script, but I am disappointed and restless. I was ready, and am. I want to start NOW!

I went to see my ex and his girlfriend in hospital after she damaged her leg slipping on the ice. It was nice to see her again. We've only really met once before. In the hospital waiting room, the two of us together softly sung a single chorus of Mordred's Lullaby. We sing beautifully together, and I hope that we will do it more in the future. It was a magnificent moment. She turned to me with bright eyes and a grin and said, "So, you're a Heather Dale fan, are you?" Someone she works with mistook us for sisters.

It should say a great deal, I hope, to forgiveness and peace, that I and the present girlfriend of my ex, who is part of the reason he is my ex, do such things.

I also went out intending to buy notebooks, which I did, and highlighters, which I could not find in the dollar store, and a city transit map, which I did not buy because the line at the transit office was so long. And because I was already starting to have a panic attack.

Now facing the real prospect of a job I can, and will, excell at, even though I have not started yet... I think forward, to costume design, and street theatre, and activism. Once I can afford it, I will participate. I have been thinking brave and beautiful thoughts along those lines of late.

And... I found myself back at torture and thick in the panic of fear, of dread, to the point that I started to feel physically ill, and clung to the most peaceful and comforting and nonaggressive songs I could find on the iPod to bear it out. I stopped at Goodwill on my way home, still in that panic, thinking to talk to the awesome, sweet geeky young lady receptionist who has often cheered me up, though never out of something like this before... and ask if there was a quiet place I could cry and curl up and someone I could talk to. Several times I almost bailed, choked out an "um" to beg her not to call any particular attention to my need or make exception, or to take anyone away from potentially important work to see me.

I ended up talking to her in an empty office for I'm not sure how long... perhaps half an hour, perhaps more, spilling my terrible difficulty: "you know... don't think of a pink elephant? ... Don't think, try really really hard not to think of... pushpins. Or better, paper clips. And the remarkable depths of human ingenuity. ...And police brutality. And the fact that apparently masked protest is illegal in this country."

Knowing I will soon be able to afford to build costumes, schedule time on activities without my continued involvement in them hinging on whether I find a job that needs that time slot at some point... The risks of what I know I will do, what I know I will nerve myself to do, what I dream of doing, what I will condemn myself for a coward if I do not do... It all comes much more real, and I'm sure it will come much more real yet.

I will cry beforehand so that I can keep my eyes and my mind clear and alert and ready when vital moments come.
I will get my flinching done ahead of the act.
Or after it, I can curl up and weep.
Anytime but during.
Of course, I will strive to do so in the safest and most harmless of ways that can still have dramatic effect, and with all due caution. I only fear for that even the most peaceful of dissent can and certainly will be criminalized in worst case scenarios. For which I absolutely must be prepared.

Prepare for the worst.
Strive for the best.
Expect the most likely, but prepare to be surprised.

The time talking to my friend the receptionist greatly helped me. The fact that I was able to approach her and ask for the moment of help, and follow through, in a public setting, is a definite mark of progress. Overall... today has been a very good, empowering day.
Be proud of me.

I don't think I feel happy.
I feel... like a weak and struggling creature. Growing slightly less weak.
I feel wholesome. I do not feel victorious, but I do feel brave, albeit terribly frightened. I feel resolved, and open, and I feel I have allies.
I feel comforted.
None of these things are happiness. But they are good things.

Backslider!

I have not been getting much done. I'm surviving, mind, and surviving is good, but things are tight after the mild extravagance of last month and the false hope of that job interview and training day.

The laptop I was using at home, of Steven's, is horribly broken. The screen part snapped off, but I connected it to a CRTC monitor that was around the house (don't ask me why, I have no idea), and it turned out it still works. Now... something else has gone wrong. It's stuck in a boot cycle, but my friends think I should be able to save it again.

For the time, though... I am angry at myself because I think I should be prioritizing job search over spending time with the Pup, and I'm not - I find it hard to face the stab of guilt I feel every time I excuse myself from a chat with him to go address the real world in some way. It really keeps me back, and I grow to resent him over it a little bit for his sweet but wrenching expressions of disappointment every time I turn my back. Even though... I need to, if I am ever to be able to support him. It feels like I'm stabbing myself in the foot in order to keep walking. I suppose I could take the excuse that I'm staying around to give him company while his own computer's down, and I'll prioritize job search after it's fixed... I could do that. It... I'd be worried about OW nagging me, and I should still make some time to job search, though.

I feel accusatory at me. "Backslider! You took your access for granted. It is a power and a privilege - use it, don't hide in it and get nothing done. Serves you right losing your shield. Get to work now. Maybe silence will spur you to try - in which case, this should have happened long ago. Earn your rest. Get going, now! NOW!"

I do also feel kind of lean and hungry. Maybe because I am hungry. I'm getting tired of the poverty food that I have around to make myself. I've been subsisting largely on chicken soup with vegetables, which is no doubt healthy and honestly can be delicious, but I'd like some variety. That would be nice.

At the very least, it's spurred me to come back and blog to you from the library. Like old times at the shelter, right? Ha. Well. We'll see how things go. I'm developing a points system to gamify my job search. Get 10 points for responding to an online job ad... 100 for applying to an open position in person. Properly, introduce myself to the manager style. Because that is harder and more effective. Getting an interview will probably be worth 500. Check out the link by the way. Extra Credits is awesome.

99% Furry Deviant Approved

I went out grocery shopping today. I brought my Damon with me, and we picked up a bunch of nice things, more than just my standard fare. I got myself ice cream and treats, and got Damon some doughnut sticks, in celebration of my having a new job. I spent most of the rest of my money for this month... It is December, and I will admit, I had been splurging a bit on presents and shipping sending things to people I love, as well as getting things for myself, like a new pair of ear buds since my old ones died. I haven't paid my bills for the month yet, but it's a phenomenally liberating feeling having a pay cheque on the way.

And then, waiting at the bus stop, loaded down with soda, chips and delicious holiday eggnog... I noticed I had another voice mail from work. I gave my supervisor, the friendly and bubbly one, a call. She had left me a message last night, too, asking me to come in for a second training shift on Friday. I had tried to call back, but it didn't seem to be working. It worked this time, and I told her I had gotten her message, sorry for not getting back earlier, told her the reason, and yes of course I can come in on Friday.

She told me she'd spoken with the boss and they had decided they were going to stick with their current team for the time being. I was invited to come in to collect my pay for the two hour orientation I went to. I hurried to politely thank her for telling me, and fumble for my bus pass, as our bus rolled up to the stop.

As you might imagine, I was shocked, stunned, hurt... and maybe even a little panicky, especially since I had slipped my bus pass in a different pocket from the one I usually put it in, and took a minute to find it.

My first thoughts, once I started having thoughts beyond panic and where I had put my bus pass, was that my supervisor or my boss found it unprofessional that I hadn't gotten back after their message early enough, or that they were expecting me to come in today for second training after all (it had been suggested that I would be asked to do so earlier) despite the message asking me to do it on Friday.

My second thoughts were that this was probably because I had mentioned that I haven't worked for a while and would have to adapt my sleep schedule to working again, or that I'd just been too casual and personal in my jokes with my supervisor, talking about memories of listening to cassette tapes as a child, which one of their case models reminded me of (they have one shaped like an old-fashioned audio casette), and such things. Maybe I had somehow offended her or raised a red flag, and she was just too good at masking that kind of thing for me to notice any change in her smile or her laugh. Maybe she had taken my questions and comments during training about harder cases being more likely to crack as antagonism towards the products, or a sign of likely inability to sell them. Maybe I would never be able to get work as long as I naturally fell into patterns of being casual and friendly with anyone I grew to trust at all...

And then, after a while, it finally hit me. I remember at some point while dealing with this blog, finding something about backlinks. Since I am the author of this blog, Blogger will tell me if there is another website somewhere on the internet that links to this one, and will link me to it so I can go and check out who is giving me publicity. You remember that link on my last post, to the Speaking Phones gallery website? If the owner of that website has access to backlinks too... and I strongly suspect this is a thing that is not limited to blogs... then he just got access to that blog post, everything I said about my uncertainty about selling rhinestone covered bling, and the implication that I had not meant to keep the job long (but was now considering doing so, given how the place exceeded all my expectations). In fact, he got access to all my blog posts, and my Fetlife account, and anything else linked to my online persona and the name SerpentStare.

And it turns out I hadn't gotten the job yet. I might as well have stood up on my chair at an interview and shouted, "I'm gay and furry and kinky and proud of it!". Now that... that would explain this, much better than having said something too casual or failed to answer a non-urgent message with urgent timing.

I guess I can't blame them, especially given how harsh I've been in my socialist and anti-capitalist and anti-work epithets on the site here... I remember hearing somewhere that there's no such thing as bad publicity, and I had hoped that my employers would feel that way... Maybe they feel that if I'm willing to use my personal life to plug and promote my work life, I might use my work life to spread pro-fetish ideology, or something? No, I know better than that. I guess for whatever reason, they didn't want their website even remotely associated with me. I will try to remember not to link to any other employers I end up being considered by, lest they find out I am a deviant of great calibre and pride. You might notice, I have gone back to the two previous posts on this blog that featured my real name and removed it, so that it does not come up on a Google search. However, since I seem to have already lost this one, I will leave the existing links up. Speaking Phones was, after all, the reason I labelled that last one "Cool Stuff on the Internet". The website seems a bit broken, and doesn't show all of their stock... at least not on Chrome... but I really was looking forward to working there. There was a lot of cool gear, and I encourage any readers who are looking for cellphone accessories in the London area or near a different one of their branches to check them out.

For now... If I get an email or phone call from someone at Speaking Phones asking me to remove all direct references and/or links to their website, I will do so. I don't really expect them to do that, though, since it would kind of suggest I'd been discriminated against if it turned out the identifying information on my blog was what kept them from hiring me, and it would suggest that they had, in fact, read my blog, if they asked me to remove content from it. Ah, discrimination. Everyone does it, but no-one can admit it, because then there might be legal problems. I haven't had to deal with it a whole lot - at least, not comparatively speaking... and, well, I guess I kind of forgot it existed and I should stay guarded against it, there, for a moment.

And now I'm broke. I assumed I had a job, I celebrated, I stopped to tell you all (and Ontario Works for that matter) about it... and now... I don't. I will need some help to get through this month, I think... though having had a moment to think about it, I'm pretty sure I've got all the help I need. There are people I can ask for assistance in moments like this, thankfully. Damon among them, though he can't help me with money, only moral support.

I'll make it through this. It's a staggering and disappointing blow, but I'll make it. I'm really glad Damon was there with me when I got that memo, he was a huge help. And to Speaking Phones... like it or not, you have my approval, in pretty much everything except, naturally, the decision not to hire me. Maybe you'll change your mind. Maybe you won't. Anyway, best of luck.

The Sting of Rejection - But Not What You'd Think

I feel guilty today. On my way home from a walk around town and lunch at My Sister's Place, I met the eyes of an attractive-looking black man and he stopped me to talk for a moment. He introduced himself as... I suppose it would likely be spelt Santha - It sounded like Santa with an accent and a soft t - asked if I lived on "this side" (of the city, I guess) and said something about looking for a relationship. Then his phone rang. He excused himself and asked me to stay, but I didn't, I slowly wandered away, not wanting to stick around just for the awkwardness of trying to be graceful about rejecting him verbally.

He was very handsome, and I was, admittedly, eyeing him a bit before he spoke to me. But he had an accent so thick I could scarcely understand a thing he said. Communication is important in relationships and communication problems caused by heavy accents just annoy me and make it hard for me to feel on level ground with anyone. It couldn't have worked. Maybe I should have stayed to say that aloud, but I imagine my just walking away probably delivered a message of rejection without having to get into reasons or details. If I see him again and have the balls, maybe I'll apologize and explain. To be honest, though, I don't really hope I get the chance.

Nobody

(originally written a long time ago)

I woke up this morning and there was no power in half the house.
I woke up this morning and there was no power in half my body.
I woke up this lifetime and there was no life in half my heart.

And I screamed, and I cried, and I cried out...
for mercy.
And they laughed, and they pointed, and ran...
and they ran from me.
And I lay there bleeding from wounds no-one else could see.
And looked up to see Nobody,
because Nobody came to rescue me.
Noboby came to comfort me.

And Nobody helped me get back on my feet again.
And Nobody convinced me to start trying to eat again.

So don't come to try and take my heart.
I share my heart with Nobody.
Don't come and ask to be part of my world.
I gave my world to Nobody.

And if you want to have some of these things,
don't come around to talk to me.
You can go ask Nobody.

And you know what?
Nobody will answer you.

So don't you dare ask me who I am,
and don't ask what's become of me.
'Cause you didn't come when I was dying.
And now all I am...
is Nobody.

Innocence

(originally posted on FetLife on May 9, 2010)

For wisdom, I have paid the cost
of scars to wear, innocence lost,
and found a world brilliant with beauty at heart,
but worn, dank and rusted in word, deed, and art.
Perhaps one day, through nature's way,
a method plain and crude,
I'll bear again the beauty
that is innocence, renewed.

Scarcity of Connection

From the title you might assume this is going to be a post about the frustrations of finding a romantic partner that meets my standards and offers some chemistry in the modern world and while homeless. It might have been, too - I have been feeling that way recently. But it's not. This is about the internet.

I don't have a laptop of my own right now (or a desktop, obviously... or, for that matter, a phone) and have been relying on resources at my disposal at the library and at the shelters. Earlier in my stay, it was often possible to get hours of uncontested internet at a time without even signing up for it at the shelter, while most of the other residents were busy, I suppose, with other things and often no-one would come in to use the other of the two computers on this floor for quite some time even while it remained free. Some of the staff, bless them, will give me extra time at night and leave the room open past its official closing time at 10 PM. I have, I suppose, been a lucky little 'net addict.

Recently, though, times have changed. There is a new girl on our floor that I find I have taken an immediate dislike to, perhaps unfairly, because she is competition. It seems that half or more of the times I peek in the window to check whether there's a machine free, there she is. She plugs herself into earbuds just like me, but unlike me, she tends not to react if you try to get her attention. The first night I saw her here, she had been using one of the computers when I came in and started on the second one. Someone came in having booked use for the upcoming hour. It's usually something of a protocol for the person who was using a computer first to get off first unless either it's approaching their own booked time or the other volunteers to leave. I looked at her but she made no indication that she'd even heard the newcomer. I tried to talk to her (never an easy thing for me to begin with) and got nothing. So with some frustration I logged off, and asked at the office whether there was a free slot at the computers. Being told there was, I signed up for it, determined to spend more time online (what can I say? I was stressed out that day), came back to the computer room and quietly announced that I'd signed up for the second slot. Still nothing, at least for several minutes until one of the other ladies managed to get through to her somehow, at which point she typed out another few lines to someone or other, agonizingly slowly, and at last, removed herself from the computer. Herself, but not her earbuds or plugged in MP3 player. I unplugged them and handed them to her myself, trying to be friendly about it. An hour later she returned, having booked the next hour, and thus with the authority to boot me off. I left - after all, the other lady on the computers hadn't been there as long as I had - but I was in a foul mood about it. I must admit I was starting to take it a little bit personally.

Now... I realize that from the perspective of a lot of the ladies here, much of this could probably just as easily have been me, and it's led me to wonder whether my greed for hours on the computer annoys other people the same way as hers annoyed me, but I don't think I'm that bad. I have always been very careful about it. While I indulge myself for as long as I can without feeling impolite, if both computers are taken and someone new wants to use one, and the other lady, whoever she is, shows no indication that they are logging off, I almost always will, even if the newcomer doesn't have a slot booked. When someone opens the door, I usually take out at least one of my earbuds and turn to look at them, smiling, to indicate receptiveness to communication so that if they need to ask me to get off, they can without too much awkwardness. I try never to be unpleasant about it and usually to be prompt. While I know it may be unfair to criticise anyone else's typing speed, mine is fast, so it's generally not hard for me to quickly tap out a few quick goodbyes and be on my way.

To make matters worse, yesterday something mysterious must have happened overnight or something, because one of the two computers is now asking for a password at start-up, and the floor staff don't seem to know what it is. This has caused the computer to be out of commission for two days now while the maintenance guy either fails to get around to it or is somehow just as perplexed by the problem as the rest of us - in which case... who had both the administrative priviledges and the ill will to password-lock the computer? Those functions are banned from common use on these machines, so unless we have a really vindictive hacker on-board here, someone in authority must have restricted it. Regardless, this does mean that it will be harder to get time on the computers and on the net until the problem is fixed and possibly longer. I still have my daily-except-Sundays hour and a half at the library, but time at the shelter is uncertain and often full of drama.

I know it shouldn't be as much of a stressor as it is... but... while waiting (endlessly... for fuck's sakes it's been over two weeks now) for OW to contact me with a meeting so I can go do their intake and get the funds cleared for me to move into the room that's been reserved for me... while sleeping again in a 10-bed dorm where it's not uncommon at 5 AM for some lady to be woken up and start shouting at the source of the offending sound, because obviously if one person was disturbed, it's important that everyone else is, and while continually failing to finally get over the last of the congestion that's been plaguing me for about a week... I'm stressed. I'm really, really, really stressed and it often feels like I'm losing my mind. There is no privacy in this place at all, no-where at all that can even be relied on to be quiet. The internet and its comforts are a reassuring home-turf for me, and there is nothing else I have that allows me to relax in the same way. I have Damon's ipod back, admittedly, and it is a comfort, but a comfort small; My music, the stuff I listen to that Damon doesn't also like, isn't there. No Ani DiFranco, no soothing tones of ToadyOne's Dwarf Fortress podcast... God, I miss Dwarf Fortress so much... Even without net capability, if I could have that laptop, just as it was, netless but functional, to sit in the library and game for an afternoon... It would be like a vacation.

I think you get the idea. I'm starved of what I rely on for access to my emotional supports, relaxation, and in times of this much stress, sanity. Oh, cruel world, why doth thou take away mine internet!

I realize that if you're not among those who understand, this may sound like the bleating of a whiny, spoiled child who wants and cannot have the newest shiny toy. It's important to understand this is more than that. It's probably a generational thing. Anyway... I may or may not post again soon... And if I don't... I shouldn't have to tell you why.

Bed Bug Alert

Today just went from dull but more or less average to very stressful.

This isn't due directly to the fact that there were signs of bedbugs in my dorm room. It's the process for dealing with it that's causing me more tension. I was ambushed on my way back into the shelter, not allowed to access my locker, but asked for the key so that staff could do so, and presumably wash, and/or process everything in there. I was given a set of clothes from the clothing room, a towel, and some shampoo and conditioner (one in a hotel bottle, one in one of those little paper cups for condiments with dinner) and told to go shower, and put everything I had on me that was washable in one bag, and double-bag it, and everything that was not washable in another, and double-bag it. I did, with five exceptions:

1) The key to my locker's lock

2) My keycard to this shelter

3) My library card (I go to the library almost every day to use the computers, and if it takes more than a day before I get my things back, I still want that with me)

4) My glasses (though I removed the tassel that always hangs off them and tied it to my washable backpack instead)

5) A single hair tie, for its intended use.

I am already really, really wishing I kept Damon's iPod, or at least just the earbuds attached to it, too. I swear, I'm going to go crazy having no access at all to my diary, my music, or even the ability to listen to Savage Lovecast online, which I often listen to while stressed or bored to laugh a bit and calm down. My stationery, my wallet with all my ID and what little moneys I had, my passport, my writing, my bag... is all in double-bagged plastic in a dorm-room with everyone else's stuff and no-one can tell me exactly when I will be able to access it again. If I don't get everything back whole, intact and just as functional as it was before, I will be very, very, very upset. For now, I'm blogging just to put off the stress of not being able to do what I usually do when I'm stressed: listen to music, or comfortingly familiar voices, or watch Let's Plays on YouTube. Technically I could watch them, but couldn't hear the commentary that makes them interesting, and makes them Let's Plays.

So here I am in ill-fitting high heeled shoes without heel enclosure, a white t-shirt and grey stretchpants. At least after I complained I got a bra. It's too tight, but it's better than nothing. Without one, I felt disgustingly floppy and unpresentable, and was extremely conscious of my prominent nipples. Don't get me wrong, I love my nipples. I love my breasts! But I do not love wearing a loose shirt with no support for them. It feels as though everyone must be staring at me for being so hideously underdressed.

I don't know what I'm going to do for the evening, or indeed the next few days. If I'm lucky, I may be able to get access to some better fitting shoes, and perhaps a pair of earbuds. In the mean time... Oh, gods, the hours are just going to drag, right, on.

To make my stance perfectly clear: I am glad they're taking the bed bug thing seriously. I am. I really am. But the method is a huge inconvenience, and it is going to be making me quite miserable until it's over.