Useless Writing

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Sunday, February 25, 2018

No Black Ink

Have you ever wanted to see what a comic book page looks like with the black ink:

From Firestorm: The Nuclear Man #27, 2006; colors by David Baron

Thursday, February 01, 2018

Hourly Comic Day 2018

I haven't done this in a while.
I usually wake up on the 2nd or 3rd cursing myself.
Not this year.
At least not for missing Hourly Comic Day.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Ursula K. Le Guin died today.

I read the Earthsea Trilogy, the only three that had been written, when I was 9-years old. Immediately after I read the Chronicles of Narnia. I didn’t understand what I read. At all.

Things had “true” names. Names have power. The ghost was Ged? Girls walked ancient tombs in the dark. As songs are forgotten people die?

The books were short, like the Narnia books, but they were as deep as the oceans Sparrowhawk crossed. Some in Fourth graders may be ready for the depths, but I wasn’t. I didn’t like them.

As I grew and began a journey into the novels of science fiction and fantasy in earnest, I continued to see her name, but I didn’t read her books. I assumed that because I didn’t like Earthsea, I wouldn’t like anything else by her.

I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn how wrong I was until nearly 20 years later when I bought a book of her short stories on a whim. Suddenly, the beauty of her worlds exploded within me and my expanded. I devoured her books and stories and snippet of writing.

She became one of my beacons. One of the writers I look to for guidance. One whose prose always teaches me.

I wrote her a letter once. I even sent her a copy. She wrote me back.

I never told her that she was an inspiration, though.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Always Different

How much am I like everyone else?

I've been asking that questions since I was little. All I wanted to be for so many years was like everyone else because when you're like everyone else it's the only time you're accepted. I would have given away everything. Given up anything. But I was never enough like everyone else. Never could be. Never would be.

I've said it elsewhere in this blog, but I've always been fat. That right there separates me from the majority.

Can't be like everyone else if you're not like everyone else, no matter how you wish or try.

My mother once got angry at me for repeating that I've always been fat. She insisted that I wasn't. That I'm not remembering correctly. But I remember...

...shopping in the "husky" section for pants. I learned to hate the word "husky." A special word separates like numbers and adjectives never can because numbers and adjectives never have their own section. At the worst they have their own hanger.

...having my blood drawn when I was seven to check my thyroid. I wasn't sick. Not even the flu. But there I was, sitting in a hospital hallway, my little hand in my Dad's, waiting to have a needle suck some blood from me. When the results came back, nothing was wrong with me, according to the tests, but not according to my parents' faces.

...the nurse at my doctor's office taking me aside and reassuring me with a chart, that although I was, she paused before saying, heavier than others my age, it was following my growth chart perfect. I was consistently fat. I think I was eight and my tonsils came out a few months later.

...sitting in a nutritionists office hours away from home. The whole family had to come on this stupid trip on a Saturday so that the nutritionist could give me lists of food that it was okay for me to eat. I was handed lots of piece of paper filled with never and sometimes and anytime food. Pickles and unflavored rice cakes were anytime foods. I'm glad I liked pickles, even though I didn't like them THAT much. I don't remember this list being shown to my brothers. I don't remember the basic meals we ate as a family changing. I guess it was supposed to be up to me to follow the new rules on my own. I had just turned nine a couple weeks earlier.

...filling out a chart in a book listing the calories of all the food I'd eaten and the calories I'd burned and my weight each morning. I was ten and it was summer. In the back of the book my mom had stapled some graph paper so that I could graph the ups and downs and the sames of my weight. So I could SEE the change. My mother had a book and so did my grandmother. My brothers and father did not.

(The numbers set off other problems I have that I hid. Numbers and tracking and more tracking and numbers and running numbers to see how they could be combine. These are notes and such that I hid from my family, that I'd stuff under my bed, that I'd burn in the fireplace if I woke up early enough to make sure no one would find them.)

The weight thing was always there even after that, but I don't remember any really direct efforts from anyone to change it because NOTHING changes. I went through a growth spurt, but I stayed fat. Friends and enemies in school hit their growth spurts and they had at least a year or two before they got fat again. I just never wasn't fat.

Which is why I knew I would never be normal. No matter what, I would always be different. Always be noticed for being different. Unable to blend, properly, into a crowd. Maybe not standing out, but never being like the crowd enough to just be part of the crowd.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Stronger Than You?

So, I'm sitting here listening to Steven Universe songs because, for a while now, they're the only things that really make me feel. And I mean FEEL... something... anything. Mostly lost because it's so hard to feel. I don't know how much of it is the depression or the medication or what we're taught to just be from a young age. So I sit and I listen and I start to feel a lump in my throat and then my eyes swell up with water. And I wait. I wait for the water to leak. For that physical expression of feeling. It doesn't come. It never comes. It just sits there until the tears dry in my eye and there's only something little to wipe out of the corners.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

On How to Help?

Dear S--,

I've been trying to write this for about a month, now.

I ran into your Grandpa at the grocery store and although it had been five months since you killed yourself, he looked shaken up. I suppose that the nice thing to do would have been to offer him some sort comfort? I should have acknowledged what happened and then told him how sorry I was about it, I suppose.

I couldn't though. Don't think I ever can.

So I asked him how his foundation work is going and we chatted a bit about my shitty job. I mentioned that I had recently visited family up your way and he said he was heading up in a week or so to see your family and your Aunt's family. His family. I still didn't have anything to say to him. And we left it at that.

It's not like I had nothing to say, but what I had to say wouldn't have been a comfort to him because knowing what you did... I can't say that you were wrong.

The last time I saw you was almost exactly four years ago. I was at your Aunt's house visiting briefly before I headed down to my family. It was your cousin's birthday party. You were the oldest one there, by several years, which isn't easy, but you were trying. Trying to be included. Trying to one of them. Trying to keep it up.

I've known you for a long time. Not quite since the day you were born, but pretty close. I remember meeting your father, back when your mother and him were lying to themselves about themselves. They were idiots. Then he was gone and you were with your mom and the stream of guys she kept promising you she'd marry until she didn't. How many time was it? Five? Six? Seven? No matter the exact number, it was too many.

And so I watched you. I wasn't really friends with your mom, but with your aunt and her husband. They were my friends. But your aunt was very careful to be around you as much as possible. I don't think she trusted your mom. So, when I visited we ended up at a lot of places your mom wanted to be with her friends to keep an eye on you, I think.

I think that because I can remember several occasions when I was the one watching you. You would walk off looking for rocks, you really loved rocks for a while there, and I'd see you go and your aunt would see you go (and your uncle may have seen you go, but before he had kids, I don't think he had ever thought about how easy it is to lose a kid). I'd look at your aunt and jerk my head in your direction. She'd give a weak smile or a stony look and nod. I'd get up and follow you. I'm sure she would have if I hadn't been there, but I was and since I wasn't really wanted anyway I wouldn't be noticed.

Mostly, I just followed you. You'd pick up rocks, look at them, compare them to each other, and put them in your pocket. When you found an acorn, you threw it as hard as you could and then look for another rock. Occasionally, you'd call me over and talk about your rocks. You'd talk like you were a scientist, even though you didn't have a clue what you were talking about. You sounded authoritative, though. I didn't say much. I just listened. I knew that you weren't listened too very much. Most of the time you were just talked at and told what to do. You needed to do some talking.

In time, your mom moved, with you, and I saw you less because, again, I wasn't really friends with her. I'd ask your aunt about you, though because I could see, even when you were little, that something was hurt and hurting. Something that wouldn't be easy to shake and I wanted you to be well.

I did see you on occasion, though. I'd visit your aunt on holidays and you'd be around, so I saw you get bigger. I saw that you always wore your hair long. Was that your idea? I think it was. The main reason I think so is because you always kept hair in front of your face. Trying to hide. Even when you laughed, it was from behind a curtain of hair.

At your cousin's birthday four years ago, your hair was the longest I'd ever seen it and it was always blocking your face. All day long. All day long.

I mentioned to your aunt that I though something was wrong. That you weren't happy. That it might have been deeper. She said she'd mention it to your mom. Your aunt was going through her own shit at that time as well as trying to raise her kids. I'm sure she mentioned it to your mother and was blown off.

Your mother always seemed to attribute your actions and attitude to something you were eating. The nitrates or nitrites or whatever else the liberal mommy blogs were saying at the time. Plus you probably weren't acting much different from usual. Was she dating at the time? I can't remember. It was only a year or so ago that she finally got married to one of the guys that she'd always say she married. Did you do things to try to drive these guys away, or did you want a dad?

Anyway, after you killed yourself, I didn't feel surprised. I felt more like it had been a long time coming. That's not fair and not nice, I know.

The problem is, though, that I've been near that point myself and ever since then I can't say the suicide is a bad decision. I can't. It doesn't feel like a bad decision in the moment, and it doesn't now, either. Even in these moments where I can hope for a future I can't say that suicide is not an option.

In the moments when I imagine talking to you before you kill yourself, I imagine telling you that it's an option. Not necessarily the best, but it's an option. I can't promise you that things would get better either. I could tell you that things change, though; that things would be different. I would tell you that people would miss you. Your aunt would. Your grandpa would... does.

Would any of that helped to stop you? I don't know. Would you have heard the honesty, though? I think so because at my lowest, even when I couldn't feel like anything but a burden on the world as a whole, I could recognize honesty.

Still thinking about this won't bring you back. It's unlikely that any of your family will know that I wrote this and I don't think it would bring them comfort. Probably just make them angry. And you'd still be gone.

Monday, September 11, 2017

Companionable Coworkers

I've spent way too much time in fast food places over the past week and I noticed something, something that I should have remembered.

Today, both of the places I went to were empty inside, except for me. Plenty of people in the drive-thru, though. And I could hear the teasing and mockery and genuine comradity (pardon the spelling). That sense of a team that functions well together and like working together.

I found myself missing that.

At my "grown-up" job, we may use teamwork, but we don't work as a team together. Everyone does their part and we hope all the parts fit together in the end.

Maybe that's why so many people there seem so desparet to connect to others.

Tuesday, September 05, 2017

DON'T READ THE COMMENTS

I was reading an article about asexuality and I broke the number one rule of the internet. I read the comments.

Homosexual men and women are supposed to be forward thinking and accepting of people who are different, right? They're supposed to want to encourage the growth of diversity of human sexuality, right?

Too many of them are just as awful as every other troll on the internets who refuses to believe or understand something that they simply don't feel or haven't experienced themselves.

Thank you, internet, for constantly lowering my expectations.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

The Exorcist

I just finished re-watching The Exorcist TV series.

The show is so very good. The way the tension builds from the first episode to the twist in the sixth to the power of the finale.

My favorite thing has to be that Angela's choice to fight back didn't come when Father Tomas embraces his destiny, but when she heard her family reciting the Lord's Prayer. It was her family, not a priest or God that gave her the will to fight and live again.

I've never been a person of Faith or religion, but I am a person of family. Family's worth fighting for.

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

Last One... For a While

1. Any scars? One on the top of my head from getting wacked by an oar.
2. Self harmed? Nothing serious.
3. Crush? Orange soda. A favorite of the Waponis
4. Kissed anyone? Not for a long time.
5. Coke or Pepsi? Don't care. Cola is cola.
6. Someone you hate? I try not to hate people.
7. Best Friends? I need friends, first.
8. Have you ever done alcohol or drugs? Nope.
9. What’s your dream job? Eccentric billionaire.
10. Ever been in love? I don't think so.
11. Last time you cried? Many, many, many years ago.
12. Favorite color? Blue.
13. Height? About 173 cm.
14. Birthday? Every year. But it's my day and I don't often share.
15. Eye color? Green, but with some variation.
16. Hair color? Brown, unless the sun is right, then auburnish.
17. What do you love? Dunno.
18. Obsession? Don't really obsess.
19. If you had one wish, what would it be? To know what to wish for.
20. Do you love someone? I think I love my family, but that's more something I do rather than feel.
21. Kiss or hug? Neither.
22. Nicknames people call you? Only one set of aunt/uncle call me a nickname and I do not care for it. I let them do it because. I will not tell the world the nickname, though.
23. Favorite song? These constantly rotate through my head daily: "These Apples," Barenaked Ladies; "Maybe I Will," Julia Nunes; "Narrow Your Eyes," They Might Be Giants; and "Overkill," Colin Hay.
24. Favorite band? I flop between They Might Be Giants and Barenaked Ladies
25. Worst thing that has ever happened to you? Dunno. When a bad thing happens, I can always imagine how it could be worse.
26. Best thing that has ever happened to you? When I was eight and Santa Claus knew my name and my brothers' names, that was pretty damned amazing.
27. Something you would change about yourself? Everything. Most minutes, I'd rather not be me.
28. Ever dated someone? Not on a regular basis.
29. Worst mistake? I can always imagine how it could have been worse.
30. Watch the movie or read the book? You're going watch the movie because it's easier, but try to read the book if you like the movie or the movie challenged you. Odds are there's something more in the book for you to find. Except for Forest Gump; do not read that book.
31. Ever had a heartbreak? I've had heartache, but not break.
32. Favorite show? Right now I really like The Good Place and The Excorcist. Both are so good.
33. Best day of your life? Still waiting for that.
34. Any talents? Not that I know of.
35. Do you wish you could ever start over? Only if I didn't have to be me again.
36. Any bad habits? My, yes.
37. Ever had a near death experience? Not that I can remember.
38. Someone I can tell anything to? I see a therapist, but I don't even tell everything.
39. Ever lost a loved one? Grandparents.
40. Do you believe in love? I do, but I don't think it's in the way most do or would understand.
41. Someone you hate/Dislike? I don't like my boss's boss. She's an erratic micromanager, so you never know what's going to set her off.
42. Are you okay? I tell people I am okay.

Monday, August 07, 2017

These Lists Are So High School

if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? Read The Tick comics from the beginning through Sean Wang's The Tick and Arthur. Watch Star Trek: The Next Generation. Listen to the Beatles Revolver and Rubber Soul. I think those things can give a sense of who I am, but nothing would really provide understanding.
have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who? I don't know if I could stand a person who thinks exactly like me. I don't like me enough. A couple of writers who helped me to understand myself better are Douglas Coupland, Nick Hornsby, Ursula Le Guin, and Octavia Butler.
list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.
Star Trek - Neelix
The Tick - Arthur
Steven Universe - Lars and Sadie
Star vs the Forces of Evil - Yvgeny Bulgolyubov
Farscape - Rygel
Gravity Falls - Dipper
The Wheel of Time - Loial
DC Comics - Ted Kord, aka Blue Beetle
Marvel Comics - Cyclops, aka Scott Summers
Daria - Daria
Song of Ice and Fire - Samwell Tarly
Harry Potter - Luna Lovegood
Shannara - Walker Boh
StarGate - Eli Wallace
I'll stop before I just go too nuts on fandoms. Feel free to ask for more, though.
do you like your name? is there another name you think would fit you better? I like my name fine. Although sometimes I think about officially dropping the extra syllables that appear on my birth certificate.
do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? Ha ha. A human being. I'm not much for doing. Can I be a human thinking?
do you identify yourself by the things you do? No.
are you religious/spiritual? No.
do you care about your ethnicity? I don't care about my ethnicity, but I'm white and accept the privileges that come with it. If I were a different ethnicity, it might matter in ways I'd rather not imagine.
what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime? They Might Be Giants.
are you an artist? No, but I wish I were.
do you have a creed? I had to look up creed. I didn't know it had to do with religious beliefs. No, do not have a creed.
describe your ideal day. Walk along the beach, barefoot, in the morning. Watch people play fetch with their dogs. Simple lunch. Matinee of a musical. Nice dinner. Asleep by 10PM.
dog person or cat person? Cat person. I've always liked cats a lot, but I like other people's dogs just fine.
inside or outdoors? Inside person, but with the right space I think I'd be more of an outdoor person.
are you a musician? No. Again, I wish I were.
five most influential books over your lifetime. "Influential" is a stumbling block for me. I don't particularly care for Fitzgerald's and Hemingway's books, but their books are important because I find myself trying to emulate parts of their writing styles when I fiction. I read To Kill a Mockingbird every spring, but that's because it touches me differently each time I read it. Heinlan's Stranger in a Strange Land was very important to me when I was 18; it's not so important now. But are any of these books "influential"? I don't know. I've never read a book, or experience any kind of media, that changed my life or made me want to change my life. Is that what an influential book does?
if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same? There might be similarities, but I wouldn't be who I am.
would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”? It's the "real" me because I don't feel the need to lie and even share and erotica, which I had never done before my tumblr. It's not me because it's mostly about my fanfiction and other fan tendencies, which isn't all that I am.
what’s your patronus? I think Pottermore gave me a swan or goose or something, which (hyperbolically) sickens me. I'd rather it be a sea turtle, or elephant, or mocking bird, or firefly. Something that feels like me.
which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle? I'd probably be a muggle, but if I was lucky enough to be a witch, I'd choose Ravenclaw.
would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else? I'd rather be in Oz or Xanth. Those are the fictional fantasy worlds I long to live in.
do you love easily? I crush easily, but do not love easily.
list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order. How about I use some psychosis to work this out with math! 1. Sleep, 48-60 hours per week. 2. Work, 40 hours per week. 3. Unterburps related stuff, 20-30 hours per week. 4. TV, normaly during unterburps time. 5. Read, 10-15 hours a week.
how often would you want to see your family every year? I wish my immediately family -- parents, sibs, significant other's, nieces and nephews -- could have a family meal/day each month. Maybe if I had friends I'd think differently.
have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone? No.
could you live as a hermit? Yes. As long as I had stuff to read.
how would you describe your gender/sexuality? I think my gender is right for me, but shouldn't matter to anyone. My sexuality is asexual. I'm not sure if I'm aromantic or simply not looking/content.
do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”? No, but I think that if other are willing to go past that to find the "real" me then it doesn't matter.
on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin? Most of the time I'm hard to annoy. I'm not sure if that's a low number or a high number. so a level 2-3 or 8-9.
three songs that you connect with right now. "Stronger Than You" from Steven Universe always puts tears in my eyes. "Settle for Me" from My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, but you could probably choose any of Greg's songs and I'd connect with it. I haven't been listening to much music recently, so I'll stick with these two.
pick one of your favorite quotes. "I've done far worse than kill you. I've hurt you. And I wish to go on... hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me. As you left her. Marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet... buried alive... buried alive."

Friday, August 04, 2017

Just to Post

Post a picture of u? Nobody wants to see that.
Would you date an 18-year-old at the age you are now? I don't date anyone. So, no.
Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys? I've found it easier to be friends with girls, but I don't prefer one to the other. I prefer nerds and that requires no gender.
Would you ever smile at a stranger? I do it all the time.
Can you commit to one person? Probably. Right now that person is me.
How do you look right now? Through my eyes.
What exactly are you wearing right now? Polo shirt, black slacks, grey sneakers.
How often do you listen to music? At least 30 minutes a day, but it tends to repeat.
Do you wear jeans or sweats more? Sweats, I guess. I don't wear jeans. Cheap slacks are more comfortable.
Do you think your life will change dramatically before 2015? When was this written again? No for back then and no for 2018.
Are you a social or an antisocial person? Antisocial.
If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? It depends on how friendly we are. If we're not friendly then I don't say a thing. If we are casually friendly then I probably only say that it's nice when directly asked. If we're good friends I ask what they like about the other person. I wouldn't do or say anything to hurt this person's feelings. It's my fault for not moving.
Are you good at hiding your feelings? When I have feelings I think I'm good at hiding them.
Can you drive a stick shift? In the USA I can. I don't know how well I'd be able to do it in the UK or other drive on the left nations.
Do you care if people talk badly about you? Not really, but I do get bothered if I think about people talking about me. It doesn't matter what they're actually saying.
Are you going out of town soon? I hope to see a play soon.
When was the last time you cried? Long, long ago. Why is this question so important to these types of questionnaires?
Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? Is this like a suddenly you're crushing on your friend that you've known since kindergarten thing? Or more you're crushing on the evil super trash who hates everyone -- you can tell by the racial and sexual slurs used -- thing? Every time I've like-liked someone it was a surprise because I don't expect it.
If you could change your eye color, would you? Probably not. Unless I could do like bee stripes concentric circles or something.
Name something you have to do tomorrow? Grocery shopping.
Name something you dislike about the day you’re having. Work.
Have you ever liked one of your best friends of the opposite sex? I've always like my friends of the opposite sex. I'm not friends with people I don't like. Have I like-liked any of them? Yes.
Are you nice to everyone? I try not to be rude to everyone, but I'm not neccessarily nice.
What are you sitting on right now? My ass. A rolling chair.
Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? Yes. Absolutely. But I don't relationship, so I'll never test this out.
Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? I've never tried, so how could I know I couldn't have had that someone. Pining from the distance assuming that person would never romantically is not knowing. The only way to know is to ask. I don't ask.
Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? The last person I would have talked to is a coworker before we locked up for the night. After that, I only talked to myself. Oh, and some cats.
Do you get a lot of colds? Usually only one bad one each year.
Have your pants ever fallen down in public? No. When your a fatty, you worry more about splitting your pants in public.
Does anyone hate you? I don't think so, but I spend as little time with people as possible and would do my best not to spend time with someone I knew hated me. Unless I was getting paid, that is.
Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? My therapist is the opposite sex of me, but I would never tell anyone everything.
Do you like watching scary movies? Yes, but I didn't start enjoying scary movies until I was in high school.
Are you a jealous person? Rarely.
If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be? Sixth grade. Let's erase from August 1 before school started through the next July 31. Good fucking riddance!
Did you have a dream last night? Yes. I seem to dream every night with this current antidepressant. Sometimes they are crazy vivid.
Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to? In theory I COULD tell everyone everything. In practice, no way.
Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? No.
Do you think someone has feelings for you? I assume my family and coworkers have some feelings for me, but I also assume that no one has romantic feelings for me.
Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? God, I hope not. I get twitchy when I think someone is thinking about me.
Did you have a good day yesterday? It was average. I don't like my job, but I also don't hate it. So...
Think back 2 months ago; were you in a relationship? Romantic relationship? No. Never have been, probably never will be.
Is your life anything like it was two years ago? Eerily similar.
If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now? Waiting in line for a roller coaster arguing which was better/more important, Wonder Woman or Captain America: First Avenger?
What’s the best part about school? Those times when a teacher takes your thoughts seriously and you're not treated like an average asshole.
Do you have any pictures on your Facebook? Yes, but I don't post pictures of me.
Do you ever pass notes to your friends in school? I was lucky enough to rarely have friends in the same class as me
Do you replay things that have happened in your head? Yes. Mostly when I'm trying to plan for the future or figure out if a memory is real or from a TV show I watched as a kid.
Were you single over the last summer? Over every summer.
What are you supposed to be doing right now? Reviewing applications.
Don’t tell me lies, is the last person you texted attractive? My mother is adorable.

Friday, July 28, 2017

HULK MAD!

I read a fic this evening and it had this written in it:”’her tone turned pitiful, ‘or maybe you just don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you!’”

Emphasis is mine.

I’ve had this said to me so many times and it was never true. I HATE it when people assume that because you don’t act out you feel differently, or, worse, feel less.

So angry even thinking about those stupid words.

People can fucking suck.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

GET IN MY BUSINESS PLEASE:

Found these 100 on a tumblr. Thought, what the hell.

The meaning behind my url: Created in the days of only 8-character names. Combines one of my favorite superheros with his big blue buddy.
A picture of me: Here.
How many tattoos i have and what they are: None.
Last time i cried and why: 1997, I realized that I am an afterthought.
Piercings i have: None.
Favorite band: Fluctuates between They Might Be Giants and Barenaked Ladies.
Biggest turn offs: Close talking? I don't deal with peoples socially, so it doesn't come up much.
Top 5 (insert subject): I guess someone would actually have to ask me this one.
Tattoos i want: 阴茎 on the left forearm and 阴道 on the right.
Biggest turn ons: See two questions above.
Age: I’m the sum of the first six primes minus the second prime years old, until my next birthday.
Ideas of a perfect date: November 2nd?
Life goal: To have a life goal.
Piercings i want: None.
Relationship status: I think I understand about them.
Favorite movie: Fantasia.
A fact about my life: I don't think I have one.
Phobia: So far, none that I can't work though.
Middle name: Dannon
Height: 173 cm
Are you a virgin? Yes.
What’s your shoe size? 8.5-10 depending on the width.
What’s your sexual orientation? Asexual.
Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs? Only meats and cheeses, tea and water mostly, to keep me from hurting myself.
Someone you miss: Old friends, long gone.
What’s one thing you regret? The past.
First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: Anne Hathaway
Favorite ice cream? Mint Chip. Unless I'm making it, then I have a tough decision because possibilities are endless.
One insecurity: All of them. Everything.
What my last text message says: "K"
Have you ever taken a picture naked? I've taken very few clothed. No.
Have you ever painted your room? Yes.
Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? No.
Have you ever slept naked? Yes.
Have you ever danced in front of your mirror? No.
Have you ever had a crush? Yes.
Have you ever been dumped? No.
Have you ever stole money from a friend? No. Christ no!
Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met? Yes.
Have you ever been in a fist fight? No.
Have you ever snuck out of your house? Sneaked. And no. Never had a reason to.
Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? Probably, but I didn't ask.
Have you ever been arrested? Nope.
Have you ever made out with a stranger? No.
Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere? For sex? No. For a movie or drink? Yes.
Have you ever left your house without telling your parents? Yes.
Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor? Never had much of a neighborhood living in the hills.
Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun? Yes, but I got my parents' permission, first.
Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Yes.
Have you ever seen someone die? I have not watched someone die. I've seen the dead.
Have you ever been on a plane? A few different kinds.
Have you ever kissed a picture? No. Do people really do this?
Have you ever slept in until 3? The latest I've ever slept is 10AM and than includes the night I stayed up until 8AM.
Have you ever love someone or miss someone right now? Awkward phrasing, but no to both parts.
Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? Yes.
Have you ever made a snow angel? Whenever possible.
Have you ever played dress up? Not for a very long time.
Have you ever cheated while playing a game? Only when I play by myself.
Have you ever been lonely? Yes. I'm pretty sure everyone gets lonely sometimes.
Have you ever fallen asleep at work/school? I don't think so.
Have you ever been to a club? Yes, but not exactly the thump-thump kind a dance club thing.
Have you ever felt an earthquake? Yes.
Have you ever touched a snake? Wrapped around my arms and neck.
Have you ever ran a red light? Yes. And I was happy to learn that there wasn't one of those ticket cameras.
Have you ever been suspended from school? Nope. Goody-goody here.
Have you ever had detention? Yes. I was reading a newspaper in class rather than pretending to work on the work I'd finished.
Have you ever been in a car accident? Not that I can remember. Looking forward to being in a car on purpose someday.
Have you ever hated the way you look? Oh my, yes.
Have you ever witnessed a crime? I'm pretty sure I watched a drug drop in near a Catholic church.
Have you ever pole danced? Nope.
Have you ever been lost? Not so lost that I couldn't find my way. Except for that one time that the map was sucked out the window. I couldn't get where I was going, but had no problem getting home.
Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country? If I live in Kansas, what the hell would the opposite side of the country be? I've been to San Francisco and New York, so I've been to both coasts of the USA and touched the both big brineys.
Have you ever felt like dying? All the time.
Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? Not that I can remember.
Have you ever sang karaoke? Alone.
Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Not that I can remember, but probably.
Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes, and it stings.
Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger? When I used to babysit my cousins overnight they'd crawl under my covers. But I don't think that's what this question really wants to ask.
Have you ever kissed in the rain? No and I'd rather live out this song. It's more my style.
Have you ever sang in the shower? Almost every day.
Have you ever made out in a park? No.
Have you ever dream that you married someone? Long ago.
Have you ever glued your hand to something? To the other hand, to paper, to a table, to the wall.
Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole? No. It doesn't get that cold here. No hard frosts.
Have you ever ever gone to school partially naked? Only in my dreams.
Have you ever been a cheerleader? Never. I have no spirit.
Have you ever sat on a roof top? Yes. It gets very hot up there in the summer.
Have you ever brush your teeth? Brushed. And Yes.
Have you ever ever too scared to watch scary movies alone? Do you mean "been too scared"? I've watched most scary movies alone. The others were mostly in the theater.
Have you ever played chicken? Nope.
Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? Nope.
Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger? HAHAA! Nope.
Have you ever broken a bone? Not one of my own, nor a human beings, nor a living animal's, but lots of chicken and turkey bones have been broken because of me.
Have you ever been easily amused? Often.
Have you ever laughed so hard you cried? Once. Not only did I cry, I couldn't breathe.
Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? Nope.
Have you ever cheated on a test? Never needed to.
Have you ever forgotten someone’s name? Almost every day of my life.
Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real? I've met some unreal people, but they all seemed real to me.
Give us one thing about you that no one knows. I don't like being touched. Hugs, handshakes, friendly pats on the shoulder, jostling on the bus, I hate them all. After the touch, my skin feels tingly and I try to rub it away. So, horribly uncomfortable.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Posted to my Fanfic Blog

Preemptive Apology

As stated by the title, this is a preemptive apology to fans and fandoms and those who may find their way here. This promises to be rambling and possibly pointless. I expect some personal things will be tossed out there that may make some uncomfortable, but nothing personal that makes me uncomfortable will be posted, maybe just written and erased.

Maybe this whole preemptive apology thing, too.

I apologize for disappointing the expectations of those who decided to follow me. My self-esteem is low enough to wonder why you would do follow, but I appreciate the follow. I've always wanted to tell stories for a living. This is the closest that I've come. Probably the closest that I'll ever come. I don't know what kind a storyteller I am. I have some idea about what kind I'd like to be, but I'm unclear on the future. I can't know what you expect except for maybe more of what I've already written and I hope I won't be, though. So, I'm sorry about not meeting any expectations that may be out there.

I apologize for all the time between one story and the next, whether they are or are not related stories. In no way am I a perfectionist, just see the errors that riddle this and anything else I've written and been willing to post. Some people can write a few hours every day and be happy tossing it out for our reading pleasure right away. I am not one of these people. I don't write stories every day. If I'm lucky I'll do something every week. And when I do write, it's in hard to stop chunks of time. My fingers pound across the keyboard trying to finish, like they're afraid that I'll forget or lose my ability or something, which I have done before. Also, I'm unable to serialize. I don't like posting something that's unfinished. Serialize is a promise to finish. A promise not always met. A promise I'm afraid to make. I don't need to live with that guilt. So, I'm sorry for waiting instead of starting and stopping and starting and stopping again.

I apologize for shipping your ship and then turning around and shipping your ship characters with others. I've never had a "one true pair" as a fan. I don't really understand the OTP mentality. Part of the reason why is because I like to write post-canon stories and I don't believe that the pairings of youth carry through as time goes on. Yes, two of the best people I've ever know began dating in high school, married in college, and now have two school age children. I know it happens, but it's the exception, not the rule. I believe that it's much easier for friendship and feelings to span childhood to senility than it is for romance. Besides, in the end the best romances become the best friendships. So, I'm sorry for not backing your ship, or any ship, 100% of the time.

I apologize for rarely creating for things that are currently being produced. I prefer not to contradict canon. I like to answer a question not answered or imagine a future that can't be undone with a single word or come up with something outlandish that doesn't interfere with what happened. Yes, ripple (or butterfly, if that's your thing) effects are cool and fun and can alter favorite stories in interesting ways, but that's not my thing. (At least for right now.) Things in production change so quickly and in such unexpected ways and I like for the stuff I make to "count," even though it doesn't "count." So, I'm sorry for often waiting for the end to begin.

I apologize for not sticking to one fandom. I did that for years in the beginning and I'm slowly re-posting the stories I wrote back then that I still like. Anyway, I'm not feeling that way anymore. It was finding this other fandom, and one drawing in particular, that gave me the bump I needed, the bump meds couldn't supply, to start writing again. Suddenly there was an itch again that wouldn't go away by ignoring it. When that itch was satisfied, another came along. And now I'm itchy to convert notes I've carried around for a while into the stories they were meant to be. These are shows that I enjoy and, ultimately, I write for two reasons: 1. practice, and 2. because I'd like these characters to be remembered. So, I'm sorry for not always writing for the fandom that encouraged you to visit but hopefully, other stories will keep you coming back.

I apologize for being a terrible part of fandom. I'm not great at cuddling and sharing and communicating. Years ago, when I first ventured from a passive member to an active member of fandom I did join in. I found a message board that was mostly devoted to my show of choice. I worked up the courage to share my thoughts along with my stories. I'd post a thought and a thread would die. No answer to my question. No acknowledgement of the joke. It simply died. I don't know if my perception was objectively right, but I got tired feeling like a conversation killer and I hardly ever commented anymore until the point I stopped commenting until the point where I stopped posting. Reason why, see the self-esteem issue mentioned at the top of this ramble, also the darkness became overwhelming. So, I'm sorry for not jumping in with gusto; I've not had good experiences trying.

I apologize for writing too much or not enough "not safe for work" content. I've marked this tumblr as adult content because occasionally I expect to write about naked bodies pressing against one another. However, I try hard not to keep my work from being smut, even though I quite enjoy smut. It's a fine line that I've just started trying to walk in my writing. Originally, this tumblr wasn't marked adult content because I think stories that include naked bodies pressing against each other are fine for teens, the fappable and non-fappable stories. Then I wrote about how panels are used in a comic and got called a lot of terrible things. It wasn't for my content, but I'd rather not deal with those people. So, I'm sorry for trying to write some NSFW stuff without making it too explicit.

I apologize for the times I'm not sensitive enough and the times I'm too sensitive. See: self-esteem issues. There's this one word that I've thrown around about myself usually after the modifier "socially" or "emotionally." Under its original meaning the word is fine, but the (recent) historical use makes that call much harder and I shy away from using it in conversation and writing to keep from alienating people over a word. Too sensitive, right? However, if I were to write a certain kind of character, say a scientist with a hard on for Szechuan sauce, then using the word could be very appropriate because the character has said the word before and there are plenty of character situations where I would write him saying it again. Not sensitive enough, right? This is one of the few places where I can't see a line to walk. You step on one side or the other, upsetting one side or the other. Where's the middle ground? Thank goodness I don't write Huck Finn fanfic because to be historically (and canonically) accurate would upset lots of people, but so would disregarding an important aspect of one of the themes that really can't be explored without. So, I'm sorry for over-thinking the meanings that individuals may or may not ascribe onto words due to popular usage.

I apologize for criticism that veers into the insulting and for the generalities. I have plans notes to write a bit about the writing quirks out there that drive me nuts. My notes aren't near me, but I think it's mostly word usage stuff that makes things unnecessarily hard to read or confuse. This isn't grammar-Nazi stuff, but phrases and choices that are grammatically correct and accepted that interrupt my flow when reading and take me out of the story. Not just in fanfic, but everywhere. The plan is to keep these things very general because I don't want to single out an individual. Just because it's writing that bothers me, doesn't mean that it's bad writing. (I also have a list of my own writing quirks that I can recognize. I plan to use those to explain myself and better understand why I constantly fall back on them.) There's also the possibility that if I write one of these, or any type of criticism, on the wrong day I could be perceived as insulting or actually be insulting. I recognize this about myself. So, I'm sorry for the generalities that I will be writing and the possible cruel things I could write about actions and individuals.

I'm a person who wakes up most morning and has to be reminded that the best reason for waking up, bathing, and going to work most days is because I get to do it all over again the next day. Without the reminder, I can't promise that I'll be able to do it again the next day. I want to find something more positive for the reasons and I think writing may be that reason. However, I don't want to get bogged down and overloaded with the petty, vitriolic minutia that fills so much of the unterblerbs and crushes the morale of some good writers and artists and critics. I'm afraid of being one of those and by getting my apologies out there now I hope I won't feel like I always have to explain myself.

Some may ask, why post the writings? To which I will reply that arts aren't complete without someone (who isn't the creator) reading/hearing/seeing/experiencing the artwork. While I can't prove that people actually do read what I've written, I can track numbers and see that someone landed here and I can tell myself that at least one person read it. (Bots may mean I'm lying to myself, but I'll live with that.) And if I believe that one person did read it, then I believe it's complete. Completing art, it seems to me, is very difficult for many artists to do. Maybe because they look at feedback instead of simple numbers. It's harder to lie to yourself when you have no comments or cuddles or whatever the site give you, isn't it?

Thinking of comments, this isn't about me looking for praise and guilting a reader into saying nice about my work. I'm not perfect and neither will my writings be. I know that. True critique is the best way to explain to me, though, not name calling. (This is one of the reasons I don't often write comments. I want to go into the hows and whys of the creation, not just the created. Also, I truly believe, deep down inside, that, the hypothetical, you are not interested in my opinion because self-esteem.) I have to assume that any praise I get isn't simply mindless or rote (again, see: self-esteem issues, it's a terrible theme!), and I have to work hard to assume that. My favorite comments, the ones I remember most clearly, are the ones that let me know that the person finished the story because that means I really succeeded. I kept interest for however long I needed to. That's success.

These are my preemptive apologies. I reserve the right to add a retroactive apologies list which has the potential to grow forever and ever until the day I die. Amen.

Wednesday, July 05, 2017

A Horrible Idea

I had this idea eight years ago and this is what I wrote:

It's like My Fair Lady, but with nerds. A gorgeous girl decides to learn how to be a nerd. She goes to an expert, a know-it-all comic book shop owner. He teaches her to talk the talk then plays down her look so she can walk the walk.

It's all okay, though, because in the end she decides that it's okay to like geeky things and still look gorgeous. End with her in a super slutty looking costume of some sort at a con being stopped to have her picture taken then pull back to the guy who "trained" her nodding in a knowing way, because he did his job perfectly.

I've pushed it forward as a draft for a long time because I thought I'd flesh it out. You know how well that turned out.

Tuesday, July 04, 2017

I have lots to say, but not tonight.

I'm writing fanfiction on tumblr.

Have a wonderful bit of Steven Universe fandom:

Monday, January 30, 2017

Bruno: The Bear Who Stayed Awake

My brother wrote a children's book and it's up on Kickstarter. Please take a look.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Reminiciance

This has been posted all over Fartbook, but I didn't want to post mine there because of peoples and such.

Tell us about your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!
It was 1997 and I was disappointed.

1. Did you know your spouse?
It depends on if I ever get married, I suppose. Probably not, though.

2. Did you car pool?
Yes. My best friend picked me and my brothers up in the morning and, many afternoons, dropped us off in the afternoon.

3. What kind of car did you have?
No license. No car. No money for car. No money for gas. No money for insurance. No point.
Why no money? That answer is below.

4. It's FRIDAY night. Where are you?
No where. Again, no car. Other people were at football games for band, but I was no longer in band and disliked football. I stayed where I was and watched tv or read comics and let others be where they were.

5. What kind of job did you have?
No job. I lived in a neighborhood, but not a suburb. A kid couldn't simply hope on a bike and get a job at the grocery store five blocks over. All jobs needed to be driven to. Dad said that neither he nor our Mom would drive me to work and pick me up, that was my responsibility. I didn't have a car, though. My dad said that if I, or my brothers, wanted to drive we needed to pay for insurance and gas and buy our own car. If all the jobs required driving and you couldn't afford a car and insurance and gas to drive, how do you get a job? Not that I really wanted a job then. Not that I want a job now.

6. Were you a party animal?
I was not an animal and I did not party.

7. Were you considered a jock?
Not even in my imagination.

8. Were you in band or orchestra?
Not my senior year.

9. Were you a nerd?
I didn't have the stereotypical glasses and high pants, but I was a nerd. I was good at school work and even enjoyed it sometimes. I read comics and was at the shop every week to get the new ones. I always had at least one novel, science fiction or fantasy, in my backpack along with a toy from The Tick cartoon. Stat Trek was very important to me to the point where I could tell you the name and plot of nearly every episode of The Next Generation. Even at the time, I embraced the word nerd. Couldn't hurt me for enjoying the things I enjoyed

10. Did you get suspended or detention?
No. If it wasn't academic, I worked hard not to be noticed by anyone.

11. Can you sing the fight song?
I couldn't sing it then. Neither could my classmates.

12. Where did you eat?
We sat on the lawn under a tree in the mall between the 'H' Building and the Administration Building. Now I wish that I spent a day or so a week at a different site. I regret not doing that.

13. Where was your High school?
Cowtown. The same town that I currently live in.

14. What was your school mascot?
Cats that are wild.

15. If you could go back and do it again would you?
Only if I could make some changes. If I can't make those changes then there is no way in hell that I'd do it again.

16. Did you have fun at prom?
I don't even know if there was a prom my senior year.

17. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with?
If there was one, I didn't go. So, nope.

18. Are you planning on going to the next high school reunion?
There's a price I could be paid to go, but that price is high and I'm not liked enough by my classmates for them to pay it.

19. Are you still in contact with people from high school?
Depends on what you mean by "contact."

20. Did you skip school?
Yeah, but with the permission of my parents. (NEEEEEEEEEEERD!)

Copy and paste if you want. Let's hear yours.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Out of the Breach

I've been feeling okay for the last two weeks. Not great, but I don't have thoughts about killing myself several times an hour every day. Only a couple of times a day. And in between those time there were periods where I may have been grasping at normal; a finger on a ledge and maybe it's possible to get a second and third up until I can get a firm grip. I'm pretty sure it's due to the additional medication my new brain doctor gave to me about eight weeks ago.

Before today, the worst day was a week ago, the 23rd. I was a my brother's in Los Angeles with my parents. My brother and his wife threw a baby shower. Their son is expected in about six weeks. About thirty people were there. Thirty people. That I didn't know. My brain kept shorting out. I would be listening to someone and then I heard everything in the room all at once and couldn't focus. It was awful. After it happened a few time I went to a bedroom and just stayed there for a while. Eventually I could focus again and went back to the party, but I acted the same way as I did before I lost focus: I sat in a chair and didn't say a word to anyone.

This afternoon is a going away/early birthday party for one of my cousin's. He just graduated from high school in June and will be shouting "Semper Fi" in a week or so. But that's beside the point. Today was much harder than last week. Almost as soon as I walked through the door I had trouble focusing on a single conversation without the other babble leak into my ears. So, it was hard to begin with and then I made a mistake of getting involved in a discussion about the presidential election.

It started out fairly innocently. There was a question about the delegate rules and I knew the answer. There was more talk about rules and then some talk about the conventions. (I mentioned how much I liked parts of Ted Cruz's speech and wished that Bernie Sanders had been as brave in his speech.) And then the dreaded question was asked. Who am I voting for in the fall? I gave my true answer, which is I think I know, but I'm not happy with either candidate. My uncle (who said he can't seem to ever vote Democrat because they don't seem to represent white males anymore) asked if the one I'm leaning toward starts with an "H"? And I had to answer yes. My grandpa (who said he doesn't understand the people who simply vote the party line without any thought and is also married to my grandma who has only ever voted Republican, even down ticket, because she won't ever vote for someone who supports "hand-outs") asked why? So I had to talk about Trump not being presidential and that if he's gets angry at internet nobodies who make fun of him online, then how is he going to take criticism, legitimate and not, from world leaders. I don't think he'll handle it well. My grandma said that he's already worked with all of those people, which I assumed meant the world leaders. I said he hadn't, that he worked with people who want to make money off of him and then I ranted about all the people overseas who seem to hate the man, including employees at his resorts and the town-folk who live near the resorts, I then got into his lies about his fortune, his use of bankruptcies to hurt employees and investors to save himself (I acknowledged he used the law to do it legally), and his self-made man crap when he got a million dollars from his father to start his business. My grandma said that she's read about these criticisms, too, but that I have to read stories from the other side.

I was baffled. What other side when you're stating stuff that happened? Were these not things that happened? Were they not facts?

Then Grandma moved on to how people who are on Social Security earn too much money, more than she and my grandpa, and that they constantly whine about not having enough. This is where she always goes. She hates Social Security, for those that didn't pay into it, especially those who aren't of retirement age (even though that was kind of the point when the program was created). She hates food stamps. She hates that people who don't work/pay get medical and dental and vision insurance. I didn't get into it with her over this. We've gone through it before, but she told me what she has always said. She and my grandpa have never taken anything. They've never earned much money. They do what they can to help people through their church and that's the way everyone should be and blah, blah, blah. (In the past she didn't like it when I brought up the uncle who used food stamps to keep his daughters, her granddaughters, fed. So I didn't bring it up again.) She then started in on a story about how her parents would invite people to their farm for dinners and there were sometimes up to 60 people and they all got fed and ... I didn't understand what the point of the story was.

That's when I hit my limit. That's when I had to leave. More was said, but I did my best to turn my brain off and simply look like I was listening. I hope she doesn't think I understood or agreed with her.

Of course I waited the appropriate time before I left so it didn't look like she set me over the edge.

This is why I avoid politics when talking to people. Most everyone, I include myself in this statement, aren't flexible enough to want to hear differences in thought and even is they hear the difference they don't discuss, they go on attack arguing why the other side is wrong rather than arguing why they are right. And attacking is no way to discuss anything.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Unspecial

I'm watching The Magicians. It's a TV show based on a pretty excellent book. It's about a school where people learn magic. Older people. College-aged people. Like every other school that teaches magic though it is only for certain people. People who have the ability. People who can pass the impossible exam.

So far it's a good series. Not exactly like the book, but that's there. Of course they had to add stuff to fill out 13 episodes. I've enjoyed what I've watched.

The thing is the show and all the series (books, TV, movies, comics, whatever) with secret, special school is that if they exist in our world I was never able to go to them. And I'm afraid that if I was in a world where those do exist I wouldn't be invited.

Thursday, March 03, 2016

The Medication

The pills have complete control over what little life I want to live.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Web MD is Dangerous

I'm not usually one for self-diagnosis, but come on.

I'm not sure if having a label helps. I certainly don't feel any better right now.

Monday, December 07, 2015

Dear Dr.

In December of 2013 I was feeling great. Better than I had felt in years. I had started planning a real future for me and felt better about myself than I ever had.

When January came around my insurance company switched me from a name brand medication, Cymbalta, to the generic version. Soon after I started to fall apart to the point where I had missed some work. At the beginning of February I saw my psychiatrist, S Q, and he believed that it was the change from name brand to generic. We switched back to name brand, but I didn’t get any better. There was no holding and I started to get worse.

Soon after he switched me to another pill, I don’t recall the name, and I stabilized, but I also didn’t get any better. Several times a day I fantasized about killing myself in various ways and planning how I would do it. Then the new drug started giving me major cold sweats. I’d sit in my off on a nice spring day with the window open and no breeze and suddenly I’d start sweating so bad that it would bead and run off my nose and I would leave a sweat print on my seat.

Again, we changed drugs. The sweats went away, but my depression deepened. I also started experience major stomach cramps. The cramps were so bad that I would walk about two dozen steps and then have to stop before I could move again. I nearly killed myself – I had everything ready to go – but my brother, sensing something wrong, visited for a few days and I lived to see my next psychiatrist appointment. At that time I insisted that we change drugs.

It was at this time, January 2015 I think, that I was put on Viibryd.

Viibyrd boosted my mood up enough that I stopped fantasizing all the time about killing myself. But it hasn’t given me enough to regain my old level of concentration or bring me out of my mental and emotional exhaustion. Also, I’d still rather be dead than alive, but my thinking is “clear” enough that I know I shouldn’t shoot myself or lock the garage and turn on the car.

Instead I think about how I could kill myself by not giving a shit about myself and that the people who know me are far less likely to be upset. What I mean is that if I have a heart attack in my apartment, can’t reach the phone, and die of dehydration a few days later, people will be sad and think it was preventable, but they would be much more upset if I tied a rope around my neck and jumped off a bridge. Same thing if I become diabetic and start losing toes and fingers and eyes and eventually die or if I get so fat that I just stop breathing, forever, in my sleep, people would be less upset than if I took an active hand in my demise.

The main reason I came to see you, beside good recommendations, was because my psychiatrist kept saying I needed a GP and when I went into the Prompt Care for my stomach cramps the MD I saw freaked out about my blood pressure and insisted that my stomach cramps were a symptom of my high blood pressure. So I came to you and I feel bad because it’s not that I don’t hear what you say or don’t read what you’ve given me, it’s that I don’t really care. I take my pills each night before I go to bed. I try to follow some advice from the papers you given me. Ultimately, though, I don’t care and can’t bring myself to care.

Which leads to the ultimate question: Why haven’t I asked to switched drugs?

There are two parts to this answer:
The first is that I spent the better part of 2014 fighting to not actively kill myself because I was switching drugs. I wanted a break from that. And if there’s one thing Viibryd does for me, it keeps me from actively working toward death. No ropes, no hoses, no guns.

The second is that my psychiatrist is retiring at the end of the year. I will see him one last time, next week. I don’t want to be working on a new drug while interviewing the few psychiatrists who take my insurance to make sure they will be a good fit to me. Maybe if I find one we can discuss changing to a different pill, after we get through the whole – “So, you’re depressed?” Yes. “Why do you think that is?” I don’t know, but it’s been in my life for a long, long time. “But what triggers it?” Nothing. “Something had to have happened.” Not recently. “How’s your job?” It’s okay. A bit boring, but I don’t hate it. “Having a problem with your boss?” Nope. I like my manager; even better, I respect her. “What about your coworkers?” They’re all okay. I don’t deal with them a lot, though. “Friends?” I have a few friends, but they live a long way away. “That must be lonely.” Not really. I rarely crave companionship. “That’s not true. Everyone likes to be with other people.” (Words that a counselor actually said to me.) I don’t. I never feel more lonely than when I’m surrounded by lots of people, even if I know everyone there. “Okay. We’ll come back to that. Girlfriend or boyfriend?” Nope. Not ever. “Not ever?” Not ever. “Why?” You don’t recommend a movie you don’t care for to a person you like, do you? – thing.

If you wish to speak with my current psychiatrist, please do:

Sunday, December 06, 2015

How Santa Does It.

There is only one Santa, one sleigh, one sack of toys, and eight reindeer.

Santa and his elves spend the year carving largest, the most clear, most pure ice into a prism with so many facets that's impossible for the eye to find the edge.

Christmas Eve is the darkest day the North Pole experiences.

That night the reindeer pull the Santa and his sleigh into the air. They circle the pole gaining speed and altitude. When they graze the top of the atmosphere they turn and head straight down.

As they gain speed their physical form begins to shed until they become beings of pure light energy.

They hit the prism in this form and refract, a new sleigh, Santa, and set of reindeer fly from each facet.

These Santas each rocket off to their designated sectors to deliver gifts to the children of the world.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Tickets

Months ago I got a flyer in the mail saying that The Book of Mormon, the play, would be in Cowcity in March 2016 and that I could order tickets on 11/19/15.

When I called, from work, yesterday they told me I needed a code from an e-mail that I hadn't received. Today, I was told, is the day just anyone can order tickets.

Last night, 7ish, I got the e-mail with the code. The box office is only open from 10AM-6PM.

Ten more minutes.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Girls Meets Restraint

One of the best things about Girl Meets World is it's willingness to hold back. I think that tonight's episode:

Any other show on TV -- whether made for tweens, teens, or adults -- would have had the two of them kiss. Then the action of the kiss would have been the focus of the next episode(s) rather than the reason for or meaning of the kiss. Friends would get angry but eventually make up. New couples may form and all friendships would be tested. But in no way would they actually look at the feelings beneath the kiss.

Girl Meets World choose to stop these two from kissing and now they have to deal with the emotions. The emotions that Maya has been trying to suppress because she's afraid of losing her best friend and surrogate family. The emotions that Lucas is afraid to let out because he works so hard to not upset people. The emotions that Riley have involving how quickly she wants to grow up versus how quickly the rest of the world wants her to grow up.

Sure, these things will, at best, get one episode, the one on tomorrow night, but at least the show is sophisticated enough to try.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

That Next Marvel Movie

Dear Marvel Movies:

Re: Captain America: Civil War

Your movie has the same problem as the comic book event did.

You insist that both sides are equally right. That there is no right answer to whatever the question will be, but two are given and we, the audience, are supposed to decide which of our heroes are correct.

I'm here to tell you that once you put Captain America on a side, you have your right answer. We all have the right answer.

The movies, since Captain America: The First Avenger, have been building Captain America as the American ideal. Not because of his super-strength and mighty shield, but because he's brave and spunky and relentless and eager to do what's right even before he's shot up with an ex-Nazi's magic juice. He tried to enlist a half-dozen times. He jumped on the grenade when everyone else ran. His first thought was to rescue the kid who could swim. He happily served in an integrated Army. Time and again, in the movies he's been shown to be morally right. The moral choice for America.

If Captain America is the physical representation of America's morality, how can Iron Man also be right?

Also, if the movie ends like the comic did, please do this for the next Avengers movie:

Fuck the Winter Soldier. Falcon for America!

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

An Anniversary

I have worked for The State for 10 years.

That's 120 months.

520 weeks.

3650 days.

Or 87600 hours.

During that time I have been at work approximately 20800 hours. (I'm counting any vacation or sick or furlough time because those are things my job gives or forces on me.)

That's 960 days.

137 full weeks.

31.65 months.

Or 2.64 years.

I will retire in approximately 28.58 real years.

That's 343 months.

1486 full weeks.

10404 days.

Or 249704 hours.

Actual time working before I retire is approximately 59446.4 hours.

That's 2476.93 days.

353.85 weeks.

81.66 months.

Or 6.80 years.

Tuesday, September 08, 2015

On Chocolate Chips

A few months ago I bought an ice cream maker. One that has a tub you freeze overnight before you churn. It's a good ice cream maker that's dangerous, but creates much deliciousness.

I tackled the big three right away -- vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry -- with no problems. The next on the top five list seemed easy. Make vanilla and add mini chocolate chips because big ones get too tough to chew.

Pow.

Except not really.

The mini chocolate chips are easier to chew, but not by that much. Also, because the chips are frozen I couldn't really taste the chocolate.

One of the joys of chocolate is that it melts at body temperature. When it melts in your mouth is when you taste that singular flavor. Shoveling it in with frozen cream does not allow for much melt and therefore not much flavor.

Store bought chocolate chip ice cream doesn't have that problem, though. The chips melt fine and every bite is nicely balanced between the vanilla of the cream and the chocolate of the chip. What makes them chips so special?

The last time I was at the store, I looked at the ingredients of a chocolate chip ice cream: cream, sugar, blah, blah, blah, chocolate flavored chips.

Chocolate flavored chips?

Fortunately, modern ingredient lists also list the ingredients for the ingredients and I learned that chocolate flavored chips are made with bittersweet chocolate (like standard cookie chips) and coconut oil, non-hydrogenated. (In other brands it may be some other kind of oil.)

My brain went DING.

Coconut oil is solid until about 75 degrees Fahrenheit and then starts melting. Mixing the coconut oil with the chocolate brings the melting point of the chocolate down and, if you don't buy the super organic oil (oops), it doesn't taste too different. Not as strong as bittersweet chips, but more chocolaty than milk chocolate.

I felt stupid. I've been making homemade Magic Shell for over a year now. It's mostly chocolate and coconut oil. This keeps the concoction liquid at, relatively, cool temperatures and then it freezes on the scoop of ice cream (or frozen strawberry or ice cube or frozen spoon, however you take your chocolate).

The chips work, too. Now the question is what's the perfect ratio of oil to chocolate?

Friday, August 14, 2015

Dear Old Friend

I'm writing this today, in part, to apologize. I have not tried hard to remain in contact with you. I don't write you regular e-mail. I don't drive to your location to simply visit you. I don't call you one the phone or text you. I don't even know if I have your phone number. This is on me.

To be fair, though, it's on you, too.

When I have written in the past you responded with only a sentence or two and after I wrote back you didn't. You never seem to be the first to send an e-mail. Why is that?

When I've been near where you live, I have let you know so that I could visit with you. You never seem to be near where I live. Those few times you have been near, you haven't always let me know. Why is that?

I rarely call or text anyone. If I don't have your phone number I haven't asked you for it. Which would be the same reason you don't have mine. If you asked, I would give it to you, but I'm not going to call. I have issues with myself that don't allow me to call you. Do you have similar issues?

The other part of why I'm writing this is because I think I'm done calling you/thinking of you as "friend."

"Friend" should be more than a person who can see your Facebook feed. It should be more than hitting a "like" button or posting a comment on a picture. I don't know what that more is, but friend should be more. Maybe regular reconnection through thoughtful communication to see how we've both changed and how we've stayed the same and how we're still compatible, but in a new way. We haven't done this in a very long time.

Maybe it's because you've changed so much more than I have in "grown-up" ways: spouses, children, mortgages. In my mind I can't picture myself with the first two and the third is only a possibility of a possibility. And when you have spouses, children, and mortgages those thing are what should be important to you. I understand that. I know that's how it should be. Just because I don't have those experiences doesn't mean I don't understand them or that I don't want to understand them.

Do you remember the last time I visited you? I was horribly uncomfortable. I don’t know what to talk to you about. Your life seems so focused because you have these outside things to focus on that are also intimate and personal. My life isn’t. I have no focus and my interests are not personal at all. For how long can I force the conversation into deconstruction of pop culture things that I’m interested in and you may or may not be before I wear out my welcome?

I want you to understand that this isn't a spur of the moment thing. I don't want you to think that I suddenly got tired of you posting pictures of your children. There's been thought about this.

Several weeks ago, one of my cousins got married. The person he wanted to have as his best man, his step-brother, couldn't be there because of Army. My cousin's step-father stood in as best man. Neither person was chosen out of obligation. Both were asked because of love and friendship. That's also why they accepted.

I sat there wondering if I were to ever get married, who would I have to step in as my best man? I had no answer for that. When I wondered who I would ask to be my best man in the first place, I had no answer for that either. Maybe one of my brothers, who would have to do it out of family obligation. Maybe not.

Fifteen years ago I know who I would have asked. Ten years ago I would have asked a different person, but I knew who. Five years ago I'm not so sure. Today, there is no one I could ask and not feel like I was backing them into a corner. A position like best man shouldn't feel to either party like its being forced.

This has been coming on for a long time. I remember when I felt like I was an afterthought. The person who was called only when you realized that I wasn't already there and an extra body was needed to play a good game of Risk. Not long after, I wasn't even a thought. I was a person who wasn't even invited to a party in his own home. Asked days and weeks later why I wasn't there and told I was a liar when I said no one told me. How could you not be told about a party where you live? I was asked. How, indeed.

Part of me wishes that I could be cocky and cruel about this. I wish that I could say I replaced you with someone and your friendship hasn't been necessary for years. That's not true, though. I haven't made a new friend in at least eighteen years. Me choosing to no longer call you friend leaves me with no friends. No friends.

Those words were not easy to write and I paused for a minute or two before I continued.

"No man is an island," John Donne wrote. "Every man is a piece of a continent." Many people use the first four lines of that poem to talk about friendship and togetherness without actually reading the rest of the poem and seeing that it's about people dying and how each death, no matter if one knew the dead personally, is a blow to mankind. As with so much poetry, we tend to ignore the words and meaning of the whole to focus on out of context bits.

I don't know if I'm an island. Or a rock. I do know that the longer I live, the less I desire to try to make, or keep, any kind of interpersonal connections. I can't remember ever desiring children. It's been nearly a decade since I wanted a spouse. Much of this blog has been about my lack of ability to make friends. Now, I don't have the drive to make friend, nor do I have the desire to pretend that people from my past are still friends. No matter what you may think. I can't control that. I am, however, sorry if I have offended you. It wasn't my intention, but I can see how it may be a possibility.

Last week I found a psychiatric term for who/what I am. Beyond the depression thing. It starts with a horrifying word, but the meaning of the whole title isn't as scary. It is me, though. And I know it's dangerous to self-diagnose, but in the age of the Internewts it's hard not to. Also, I don't think me finding a label is a bad thing. It makes me feel less unique to know that I'm not the only, let alone the first, to be the way I am, in a good way.

I seem the brain doctor on Tuesday. I keep wondering if I should bring this label up to him and if so, how to bring it up. There are a couple of problems, though. The first is, he is completely retiring at the end of the year and I will probably see him only one or two more times before he's done. I also doubt that I'll be seeing another brain doctor after him because there aren't any nearby who accept my insurance. There are several an hour+ drive from where I live, and that's where my current brain doctor is, but I don't like making the drive and the one on one talk seems to be mostly me manipulating the brain doctor to not ask me certain questions. (Now that I've been with him for three years, I'm much better at doing it than I used to be.) The second reason is that there isn't really any fix for this personality disorder. Drugs can be used to lessen depression that may or may not have to do with this, but it only works on depression which makes one want to kill oneself less, but doesn't really do anything to the other stuff. There's talk of group therapy maybe working, but for group therapy to be effective for someone like me the group needs to understand that I won't participate much, if at all, for months. The third reason is do I want to change. Am I unhappy being the way I am? Does it cause me to be depressed? Most people learning that I am friendless probably assume that I am lonely, except that I'm not. By myself I'm almost never lonely. In a crowd is when I feel a loneliness so crushing that I'm surprised my bones don't crack under the pressure. What happens if I lose the ability to be alone?

If this is wrong, then who am I when I'm right? Am I at all?

I don't know. In the end, I don't know if it really matters, either.

I thought you should know all of this. I thought you should know because I wanted to be clear that while I accept that it's mostly me, and it is mostly me, it's partially you, too. I also want you to know that I understand that it's not malicious. You've simply changed to accommodate things that I won't have, that I don't want.

So, when you see on Facebook or here that I was in or near your neck of the woods and I said nothing about it, this is why. I'm done making efforts. I'm done trying. I'm simply going to be me.

Be well,

ticknart