Consent Culture - We Needs It

Couple of excellent posts on consent culture from Pervocracy. I recommend reading the comments (especially consent culture post) as well. Some good discussion and clarification in them.

Now back to the mound of homework plaguing me.

2012

I hit 125 pounds today. Dead on. I'm going to celebrate this. And by celebrate I mean smile about it and spend the rest of the day trying to keep my shit under control and not panic about all the shit that is fucked up right now and teetering on the edge and that I don't have answers for.

School starts today.

I want to be positive about the new year, but it's looking grim from where I'm standing right now. Ringing in the new year with noisy, douchecanoe neighbors, illness, nightmares, anxiety and panic doesn't really make for a happy start. Who knew, right? I know!

But I'm also starting the new year still in school (and trust me on this one, right now? That is one hell of an accomplishment!), and ready and determined to dive deep into the deep end of dealing with the anxiety, phobia and ptsd. And I have the best help available for that.

I'm not going to bullshit myself, this year is going to be tough, trying to pretend otherwise is just setting myself up for disappointment and more hurt than I need. But, I will go on record as saying that I think it will also turn out to be the year things finally take a permanent upwards turn because I will be able to accomplish a lot internally and I know now that the internal changes will finally let me be the writer I so want to be and that other people see in me.

To even have one moment where I see that and can say it, and put it on a blog where other people can potentially see it is a victory right there. It may not seem like much to you, Dear Reader, but it is.

I have some posts I've been trying to make for a while now. They're hard posts. And revealing. And that has never been an easy thing for me. But I'll keep picking away at it until I can.

And now it's time to finish doing everything I need to before class starts.

Essay! I Haz Beated You!*

I'm either going to collapse in exhaustion, or sink deep into Skyrim. I haven't decided which yet.**



*And by "beated" I really mean, am no longer able to pull the suck out of it. And there is a lot of suck still left in it. This lit course was hell and I did not do particularly well. I still have an exam, an in class essay and another paper to write for it. Fuck. Me. At least my short fiction class mark should be good.


**Ah, Poundy one and two are home. So, sink into Skyrim it is. Damn. I really wanted to sleep.

I Have Not The Words, UPDATED

I can't even begin to imagine what could possibly be causing the person above me to be either A) stomping back and forth for 2 solid hours, or B) pounding something for 2 solid fucking hours.

It is inconceivable. Either way I wish they would stop.

No seriously, what in the holy fucking hell could possibly require you to stomp back and forth about 5 steps for literally 2 or more hours nonstop? What. The. Fuck? I am feeling stabby. WARNING, WARNING APPROACHING RAGE STATUS. I REPEAT. APPROACHING RAGE STATUS.

Not even Skyrim can keep me from ignoring it for this long. I am at a loss. Could they maybe pass out from the strain already? Maybe some serious internal hemorrhaging. Thanks.

Wait. No internal hemorrhaging. I don't need blood seeping through my ceiling like some goddamn horror movie. Just a quiet slipping away into repose most gentle is fine. See how kind I am?


UPDATE: They are still doing it. Wow. Just... wow.

Also, the ceiling/floor divide is apparently paper thin as well because I can hear them talking and I'm pretty sure they aren't yelling or anything. As in, I can make out individual voice genders, and tone of voice and I'm not even actively listening. If I actually tried, I could probably tell you what they're talking about. This is beyond terrible.

I just want to say now that it's been lovely knowing you all and I hope you'll visit me in prison because there's no way this can possibly end well.

UPDATE the second: Still. Going.

Trying Something New

Waaaay back, I cut myself off video games completely because they were becoming an atrociously inexcusable time sink from which I could not pull myself away.

I have decided to try something a little different. I'm only allowed to play video games on my "free day" (the day I have no obligations*), but only if I get certain other things done during the week. How many of those things I get done determines how many hours I get to park my ass in front of the computer and zone out in video game bliss. My god I must be terribly boring. Too bad!

To that end, I shall be purchasing the much hyped Skyrim (assuming I can find a copy in this tiny ass, fucking, shit town) for to be whiling my time away in. I will almost, probably be purchasing either the Star Wars or Guild Wars 2 MMO when they come out. Not sure which yet.

I feel like I've let you all down again. So little funny gets posted here again as of late. I am sorry for that. I just really haven't been in a very funny mood lately.

*Unless I get a dog of course who will still need to relieve on a regular basis. Unless I can somehow train my dog to hold its needs for exercise and bowel relievement** for an entire day. And if I could do that, FUCK CESAR! I would be Queen, queen I tell you, of doggies everywhere!MUHAHAHAHAHA!

**Naturally spellchecker hates the word relievement. I'm a writer spellchecker, we make shit up. Deal. One of these days spellchecker and I are going to don gloves and step into the ring and it will be on! Now, I'm not a bettin' man, but if I were, my money'd be on me. Spellchecker is very concerned with rules and propriety and doing things right. Meanwhile, I'll be sweeping dirt into spellchecker's eyes and punching it in the junk. "Spellchecker doesn't have junk" "Punch it there anyways!" *This is the sound of spellchecker being punched in the junk. Imagine as you will* "Spellchecker has junk!"

All Hail The Crickets!

I'm having one of those days where I'd very much like to be writing... and I very much don't know what to write. That is, when I tell myself “Brain, just write anything.” my brain goes blank. Terribly, frustratingly blank. And I find myself unable to come up with even something simple to write. Like, absolutely blank. I keep wanting to write something “different”, but I have no idea what that actually means. Define different brain.

Crickets.

Okaaay, different how?

Crickets.

Does it involve muskrats?

Crickets.

Aliens.

Mostly crickets, a slight sense that no, it does not involve aliens. I guess that's something...? Yes?

Crickets.

Badgers? (what is with you and small, furry mammals anyways?)

Crickets! Defiant, viciously blank, mother-fucking crickets! (is there a hyphen between mother and fucking on that? I can never remember? CRICKETS!!!!!!!!) everywhere I turn. CRICKETS!

Ahem, in other news, it is as I feared (man that sounded fucking formal, jesus what's wrong with me to- no, wait, I'm not finishing that, I already know what the damn answer will be. Can you guess? Can you?) my tapioca didn't set, even after it cooled. I added a bit more sugar and vanilla (it's ok because I'd actually cut back on the sugar when I made it, won't that learn me!) and put it back on in the hopes that I could burn off some of the excess liquid without wrecking it. I made it taste more interesting (it was sadly bland. Not bad tasting, just bland), but I don't think it'll thicken up anymore. Ah well, lesson learned. I'll just have to eat runny tapioca.

I had some low-key (for me) dreams. They were fun and mostly pleasant and involved some athletic tackling of stairs and stairwells by yours truly. Weeeee!

Also, I want a cat. I probably shouldn't have a cat right now, especially with the terrible, newly discovered cat allergy I picked up somehow, but I want a cute, cuddly, soft, awesome, loving, follows-me-everywhere-around-the-house-and-not-just-for-the-food kitty-cat. This is the part where you imagine me heaving a terrible sigh, meant to convey, in that one motion, all of my current loneliness and want for such a thing.

Well, now that I've brightened both our days up. Byebye.

Warning: This Post is Angry and Depressing, You May wish to Skip It.

You know what would be awesome? Sleep. You know what else would be awesome? If the assholes who play their music on volume 11 every fucking night would stop. Cops won't do jack about it (no seriously, they won't, you're welcome to come try, I know I have) and I can't go knock on their door and ask them to turn it down because I'm pretty sure that they're one of the drug dealers in the building. Drug dealers as a whole don't tend to be the most thoughtful people going and I don't fancy getting my tires slashed or my window smashed.

I fucking hate this apartment complex. Go me, I accidentily wound up in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Nanaimo. I can't even give myself shit for this terrible decision because at the time I; a) hadn't slept in several days, b) was in a state of for-real-no-exaggeration 24/7 extreme anxiety at the time and having daily panic attacks and thus not exactly what you'd call functioning let alone possessing of acute mental powers (or rational thought), c) desperate, d) it was, believe it or not, the best of the bunch out of the apartments I looked at, and e) one of the few affordable suites* on the market at that time.

Getting between 0-3 hours of sleep a night makes it kinda hard to function. In case any of you were considering experimenting let me give you some advice. Don't. Instead, try shooting yourself in the foot, I promise it's less painful and less of a hassle to deal with.

If I could at least use the extra time to catch up on homework, that would be something, but I'm too tired to concentrate or read or anything. It's very hard to maintain a positive outlook under these circumstances.

School is important to me. Doing well is important to me. Getting sleep is important to me. Right now, all of these things are being severely impaired. It would help if I felt like I had options I could exercise instead of feeling helpless and angry and impotent and completely dis-empowered by the whole situation. I had to sign a lease (which I really didn't want to do) so I'm stuck here until... May, I think. Possibly later? Oh God, I hope not.

*And I use the term affordable in the loosest of ways. Affordable meaning, it broke the bank slightly less than other suites (again, some of whom were in worse condition, but somehow still costing more. Fascinating!)


Ok, I will stop now. I had to get some of that off my chest.

Defiantly Thumbing My Nose at Negativity

Quietly, from behind a tree. Where it can't see me.

Life is completely fucked at the moment, hence the silence. When one has the bottom dropped out from under one's feet in all areas of life, one finds it difficult to make funny blog posts. Also, I have no idea why I used one there and not me.

So here is a bunch of random shit to entertain you, now that I'm not living out of my car.

Email to Most Beloved following up a text he sent me:
Here is my recommendation on the exact look to give someone crowding you in line who isn't a puppy or a super model.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiV7M8Llkxo

Also, I've decided to take offense over your desire to have super models standing too close to you, invading your personal space*. I've decided the best response is to punch both you, and the super model in question. But mostly you, because, while the supermodel might suspect that someone as amazing and sexy as you has someone in their life, she doesn't know it. You do.


Another email exchange:
Most Beloved: I think the dehydrator is against the back wall in line with the weight bench. Don't know if you can climb back there and get it or not. On second thought the way things have been going do not attempt to climb back there and get it. I repeat please do not try and climb over stuff in storage to get it. :)

My Reply: What could possibly go wrong with me climbing all over unstable furniture in a storage facility devoid of people and frequently crawling with spiders**?


Random: Aahh the bass is going strong tonight. It's gonna be a good night in squalorville. It's gonna be a good night in squalorville***!


Random: I shall do nothing today that I do not want to. And I shall thumb my nose at negativity (only quietly, and from behind a bush so it can't stomp me with its fist of pain)!

Hmmmm I recall at one point being able to embed a video here instead of just the link. But it's not letting me do that.


*Puppies are OK. Unless they start giving him the eye. Then they get punched. And don't start in on me with some bullshit about puppies and cognitive processes, I'm feeling punchy.

**I have extreme arachnophobia. Extreme. I would explain how bad it is, but the explanation would actually terrify me and cause a panic attack and I'm having enough of those lately thank you.

*** Slightly altered reference to an old, disturbing Much Music commercial. So disturbing I loved it.

My Favorite Thing! UPDATE

You know what I love? When people mistake polite and subdued for stupid and gullible and think that means they can rook you with idiocy and shady business practices. Oh wait! Whoops! * smacks forehead* I'm sorry, I don't love that. My bad. I don't love that at all.

H.A.T.E.

So sorry, next time I'll try to remember to be a complete bitch to you so you don't make that terrible mistake again and end up looking like the world's biggest fucking jackass. Fucking assholes.

If only I had the cojones* to say that to the asshole in question.... versus the oh-so confrontational method of writing it in anonymity on a blog no one fucking sees. Sigh. Baby steps? I'm not passive aggressive, just incredibly non-confrontational until pushed to my breaking point. Which, apparently, needs to arrive sooner in these moments.


* On a much happier and completely silly note. I instinctively spelled cojones right instead of using the typical English misspelling of it, and shall now take a brief moment to bask in my own awesomeness.
You may join me. :)

EDITED to add: Oh, ho ho. I'm not letting this one go boys and girls. I tried, but I'm really not a fan of people blatantly trying to rip me off, and expect I'll just shut up about it and quietly go away. Fuck that noise. :)

My sense of justice and fairness (not to mention decent business practices) is yelling at me to do something. My hope is that if I commit to it, I can get back to writing, instead of spending the entire day fuming impotently.

1. 1 Broken Toe. Ah Ah Ah. 2. 2 Broken Toes. Ah Ah Ah

3. CRAKOW!*****

Yes, it's true. In the last 2 weeks or so I have managed to break 3 toes on two different feet. Which, since I only have two feet* makes it hard to walk around. On my left foot, the two toes closest to my big toe are broken. On my right foot I broke my baby toe. You might not think baby toes do much, Gentle Reader.

You would be wrong. Baby toes are valuable assets, heavily used in your basic walking type movement.

Of course you're dying, dying, to know how I broke them all. I'd like to say that I managed this feat of awesome while saving kittens from certain death by toddler, or stopping a runaway train, with the sheer force of my smile, from splatting a bunch of frail old people moving-very-slowly-with-walkers.

If I was feeling particularly inventive, I might spin you a tale about this one time in band camp when aliens landed and I single-handedly defeated them all with nothing more than a beat-up old tuba, three pairs of swimming trunks and Billy** from across the lake. In the process of being a one-woman, collar bone equivalent breaking, whirlwind of destruction I failed to notice that their skin is hard like diamonds. I KO'd*** the shit out of a dozen aliens, but broke my toes in the process. Luckily I also have 3 levels of "Mama Ain't Raised No Pussy"**** and was able to keep going.

The other toe was probably nearly eaten by a small, portable Sarlacc Pit it just happened to have in its pocket. In the alien's pocket. Obviously. Sarlacc Pits can't go carrying themselves around in their own back pockets, that's just silly.

But the sad, boring truth is that I stubbed them all, rather forcefully, on various items laying around the house (I'm looking at you, weight bar in my living room). Apparently I just had to go and ram them repeatedly into things harder then them.
Inanimate objects 3. Toes 0. Touche inanimate objects. Touche.


* You were totally expecting me to say otherwise weren't you. Like maybe I was gonna go off on some tangent and be all "This one time, at band camp...." Well, well. Jokes on you this time isn't it. Isn't it! I am normal... In this regard.

** Billy didn't do much, but he was great at running out into the open screaming and drawing the attention of everything in a three mile radius. Good 'ole Billy. It's too bad about that alien ray gun.

*** What? Breaking a collar bone hurts. And these were wimpy aliens. No pain tolerance. Don't look at me like that. I can still axe kick, broken toes or not. I am Badass.

**** Ohhh the irony of that title in regards to my gender. Also, should I ever decide to make a Pen and Paper RPG, I'm totally going to use that as the title for the pain tolerance ability.

***** This is the sound thunder makes. And it's number five instead of one because I forgot to add this until the end. Also, I'm lazy and refuse to go back and re-number everything because that can't possibly be quicker than typing this explanation out. You're welcome.

An Open Letter

An open letter to the bag of Swedish Fish I bought to try and recreate a portion of my childhood.

Dear Swedish Fish,

You are fucking up my childhood. Please stop.

Thank you.

Adventures In Dehydrating With A side Salad Of Velociraptor!

I promised you an update on my Adventures in Dehydrating didn't I? Goddamn I'm a horrible person for not having that.

Ok, ok, tiny update. Meat is marinating (hahaha I misspelled that merindating. My meat is dating! A Merin! It better come home at a reasonable hour or I swear to god I'll be on my nonexistent porch with a shotgun loaded full with buckshot.). Was going to get it ready and in the dehydrator, until I remembered I have an appointment and didn't want to be gone when it's done and then come home to jerky so dry it makes the Sahara look like an ocean. Helllll no. So that'll have to wait til late tonight or possibly tomorrow. Probably tonight since I don't seem to sleep much anymore, anyways. Maybe I'm evolving?

Wouldn't it be cool if I evolved into some sort of terminator***? Or a Velociraptor** that could speak and had opposable* thumbs!

Anyways, once the meat is done I'll probably let you know. Sometime this year. What with my stellar update record and all.

*Spellcheck doesn't like opposable thumbs. Well I do, so fuck off spellcheck. Don't take my thumbs away from me.

**Apparently spellcheck also isn't fond of Velociraptors. Bit harder to argue that one I suppose, what with all the death and maiming and bad media coverage they've gotten. I suppose it's deserved. But I would be a kindly veloci- oh who am I kidding. I'd lay waste to so much shit it would be hilarious. It wouldn't start funny, but then I'd take it so far it became funny after all. Like those stupid fucking jokes Family Guy likes to beat into the ground, piss on, then prop up with a stick and jump start with a little petroleum jelly and some jumper cables. You know, the real heavy duty ones. Except I hate those Family Guy jokes and almost never find them funny at any point so ignore that last analogy, it's terrible.

*** I don't give a goddamn fuck about your "theories of evolution" bullshit, we are totally capable of evolving into Terminators and opposable thumbed Velociraptors who can talk. Sleep tight.

Sick

So sick.

Wherein we learn how long our heroine can go without sleep

60 hours. Beating my previous record of 42-46 hours without sleep by a significant margin. Still recovering. Think I spent 24 of that moving myself and others. And driving. Lots and lots of driving. I am remarkably resilient when it comes to hallucinations because I think I only hallucinated once and it was a tiny thing, really.

It was a crazy, occasionally surreal few days, but all my stuff is in storage, including car (which I miss), and I am currently back in Alberta for a shortish stay. Going to take this time to get my eating habits back under control and my exercising back on schedule as I have missed both of these things. And to write. And enjoy the fact that I am no longer essentially a prisoner in my own home.

In theory I will head back at some point for a short term IT project before moving on to new city and University. Drove down and visited said establishment. They have a punching bag in the gym. A punching bag! Weeee.

This time I will be getting a bachelor pad. Possibly, possibly a 2 bedroom and 1, 1 roommate, because it is significantly cheaper to share a 2 bedroom, but I would prefer something by myself.

Already the severe allergic reaction I was having to something in old place is starting to ease down a bit. But my histamines and immune system are so rundown that it will probably take months of effort and care to build it back up.

Looking forward to being able to write again. I can't wait. :)

Can Stop Now.

Life has been piling the shit on me lately. The pit is deep. The shovel doing the piling is large.

Finally realized exhaustion is from nasty, nasty mold problem I've been fighting (in my house) without even knowing it.
Losing battle.
As in, I can't get rid of it (think it's not just in my room), and symptoms getting worse and worse. Need to move, but everything's so up in the air I don't know if I should be looking for somewhere here or Nanaimo where I'll be attending school come Sept.(assuming the strike ever ends...) Exhaustion, memory problems and other severe allergic reactions I'm having are making this last push on finals and projects crazy hard. It's like waking up to slow asphyxiation every fucking morning with my face swollen and sinus/breathing passages all swollen, blocked and tender.

Can't plan summer at all. Not even one tiny bit. Not helping.

This has been one hell of a fucking year so far. Even since July*. Trying to stay positive, but I'm worn down and beyond tired. Which I keep saying, because it's true, but because I keep dragging along the ground people keep dismissing it. Maybe I should collapse?

I am more than ready for things to 180 on me and get awesome. MORE THAN READY.

I feel bad. I've posted virtually nothing funny as of late. Hopefully soon.

* Edited because I am tired and it took me a few days to realize that the last few months of old job in old province were equally hellish, just in different ways. Worse ways because I wasn't doing what I loved.

So Tired.

Exhausted. I think I remember a time when I got sleep.

Instead of post, you get random shit commencing... now.

The awesomeness of my beloved, item the first:
Said in tones of utmost disdain. "You know what pisses me off? When I'm trying to look up pictures of foxes and some woman keeps showing up."

Awesome. The fact that he genuinely didn't even know who said woman was. More awesome.


Item the second: His out of the blue, amazing rant on how older fiction books are sexist and misogynistic.


Oh my god you're amazing, please never change.

Pretty Sure

I don't need to spend 15$ on 30$ worth of tasty, yummy, amazing, gourmet cupcakes. Thanks Groupon, you goddamn enabler.

What I really want to do

Is tell the world to fuck off, run away to a cabin somewhere remote and write. Not for school. Just for me.

No interruptions. Just me and the words.

On Room and Board

Never doing it again. Never ever ever ever ever EVER. Never.

I don't care if I have to kill a man or hand deliver him to aliens for vivisection to get the funds necessary to afford living on my own, never doing the room an board thing again.

I'll live with my significant other, or no one at all.

Except a pet. totally doesn't count.

On A Serious Note

I have an announcement. For the past month now (little more) I've been taking Dexedrine for the ADD I was recently, officially diagnosed with. Which means that for several weeks now I've been able to function like a real human being. One not saddled with very real problems with neurons and transmitters not firing like they're supposed to and information taking a walk down the path it's supposed to be walking on only to find that someone has gone and carved a thousand foot fucking gorge across the pathway and lined the sides of it with big goddamn boulders so they can't find some alternate route.

I have been happy (I assure you this is a first), I have been productive. I'm going to say that again because you have no idea what that means to me. I'VE BEEN MOTHERFUCKING PRODUCTIVE! I am getting shit done. I am doing my homework. I am sitting down and being creative. I CAN CONCENTRATE AND FOCUS ON SHIT. I CAN WRITE! I can, in short, be a normal person.

Wow. Just... fucking wow. I am a different person. Seriously, this is what it's like to be normal? Seriously? Holy shit people, you have no idea how lucky you are. You have no idea what you take for granted on a daily basis. You have no idea what it's like to try and do things and not be able to, no matter how much you want to. To have drive and ambition, but spend you're entire life being called lazy and unmotivated when you know perfectly well that inside you yearn, you fucking burn to do shit. That shit fucks with your self-esteem and confidence like no one's business.

I am a much better person as my friends and loved ones can attest to. And it's me, not some drug addled me, just the me I should be when brain chemistry isn't making me not me (enjoy that sentence!).

Please, if this isn't you, and you have a friend or someone who is like this, take a moment and try to understand things from their perspective. You probably won't be able to, but even trying is worth something. Don't put them down. Don't get frustrated with them when they can't meet your expectations of normalcy. You hurt them and only serve to dig the pit deeper and deeper. Help them. Get them help, at the very least just be understanding. Holy Christ, have some goddamn empathy, chances are good they want to succeed far more than you want them to succeed. It's their life after all.

If this is you. Seriously dude, get some help. Find a way to make it work. If you have to go into debt for it, seriously consider it. It will pay you back in spades (I wish to hell I'd done this years ago).

If you decide to take something, know what you're getting into. Do your research. This will also pay you back in spades. Know what you have. There's different types and what works for one type frequently doesn't work for the others. The wrong thing can really fuck you up. The right thing can make you a productive, focusing fiend. Arm yourself with knowledge. A lot of doctors out there know next to nothing about it. They have some cursory knowledge they read in a pamphlet back in med school and think Ritalin solves everything.

Be prepared to experiment. The first thing you try might not work. It might make things worse. I'm mixed, but primarily inattentive so Ritalin actually made things worse for me (not to mention the terrible side effects). Also, I can't take anything time released. Doesn't matter if it's vitamin C, if it's time released, it gives me migraines.

Go slow. See how your body's going to adjust. Find out which foods and such help, and which interfere. Monitor things and write shit down. Ask the people who know you to observe as well, they might notice something you don't or can't. Do your research. You are going to be your biggest ally on this. Don't be afraid to speak up and fight for yourself (or find someone who will if you can't just yet) because chances are reasonable you will have to.

Personally it's worth it to me. Maybe there will be side effects down the road. Maybe there won't. In the mean time, I'm finally accomplishing something with my life. Which A) means the world to me and B) means there's a good fucking chance that I'll have money to deal with anything that crops up later. But you know what, even more importantly, there will be a later because life is seriously worth living now.

For anyone who knows me, you know that I guard my privacy with a chainsaw, a dozen ravenous sharks, three tigers and several machine guns. But I'm sharing this because that's how much it means to me that people understand. I may or may not add to this as time goes on. But here it is for now.

If even one person can have that experience, than I consider the sacrifice of privacy to have been worth it.