You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.
well, that’s just rude, at this point.
Listen, subconscious, I’m not complaining about the fact that you gave me dreams about $SOMEONE, I am, however, complaining most bitterly that even in my DREAMS, I’m apparently doing the “senpai, please notice me!” thing. Aren’t I allowed to pull a Pick-Me-Choose-Me-Love-Me manoeuvre in my dreams? Can’t you throw me a bone and just give me a happy ending once, at least? This is utterly rude. I want crazy passionate $SOMEONE-kisses, damn you.
Oh yeah, uh…not dead? Enjoying the cold weather! Been dealing with a lot of pain issues; had to move Natsume back into his original area because his wifi adapter is just too old to work properly in my cottage. I, however, don’t think my back can take sleeping in the bed in his area, so if I wake up in the middle of the night in the cottage and want to do anything computer-y, it’ll mean either walking in the winter air or just…not being able to do so. It sucks, but come the warmer weather again, I won’t be able to stay in the cottage during the day anyway, so…I don’t know.
I just really, really want a weatherproof, climate-controlled area where I can computer AND sleep without agonising pain the next morning, but apparently that’s asking too much in this timeline.
This timeline sucks, just for the record.
a nightmare on the mirror’s edge
I don’t know if I’m more surprised or embarrassed that an article about a B-grade celebrity and her F-grade “romance” made me burst into tears — perhaps it’s hormones or something, I don’t know, but…fuck me, the situation that Kath Ebbs has to deal with currently makes my heart hurt.
I mean, I have literally. been. the shiny Australian love-of-their-life marry-me-she-said girlfriend for three months to a very loud and supposed proud “lesbian” who love-bombed me and then dumped me after a couple of weeks away with the man she cheated on me with in the next room and then had to endure all the related BS hurt, pain, and public humiliation that followed it. Like. It is so horrifyingly familiar in a way that I don’t know whether to classify as amazing or just plain uncanny. The similarities are so close that I think that’s what had me crying about something I haven’t shed a tear over in like, a decade maybe? It’s eerie.
And my heart aches beyond belief for Kath and what they’re going through. This shit is going to scar them for life and that is not fair. I hope they’re surrounded by amazing people who will help them carry on through this absolute crap.
Only one thing left to say in the end, though.
…that, and I’m told karma’s a bitch.
grumble mutter hiss.
I am never complimenting the f’ing weather ever again. You know how I said that the weather has been lovely and cool and stuff? Since I opened my saill bheul, it’s doubled if not tripled the humidity, rained all the time, and…admittedly, the weather’s stuck in the low-mid 20s, and hey, I’m a Victorian — I can cope with rain. (Mud? Walking through mud? Not so much; that’s more of a city mouse thing than a Victorian thing, though.) Humidity? I cannot. What the hell is humidity good for? I mean, apart from…like…is it orchids? And even then they’re complete bitches to grow, apparently, so honestly?! I ASK YOU.
…I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m fine.
Took all my Pullips (and a few extras) out of their boxes yesterday, because I missed seeing their faces. Life’s not going to change anytime soon, so I’m not putting things off anymore waiting for a future that was promised but was never given an arrival date. Screw it. I am no longer on pause; I want to do things. Some of those things include customising dolls. So! I’m here, I’m queer, I’m…doing makeovers for tiny humanoid figures? I don’t know. ;P
Pain levels still hovering anywhere from 7.5 to 9 at any point; still not wholly sure what’s doing it or if the Nerve Shite™ is causing it wholly or just making something that was already there worse — I did take that tumble down the stairs three years before the myelin sheath BS began, admittedly. To be perfectly honest, though…I don’t…care? Like, if Doctor Banderson said to me tomorrow, “We have utterly no idea what’s going on. Or why. We never will! Sucks. But here’s something that will make the pain manageable on the daily,” I’d just kiss him and take it. (Well, I’d take it. I don’t kiss married people. Learned THAT one the hard way ;P…Christ, I’m roasting the hell out of myself this morning. Huh.)
a tale of stranger fortunes
I am never, ever speaking about the weather, my mental health, my physical health, productivity, and level of creativity if any of those things are good ever again, because I just jinxed the living flip out of myself on all those levels, and then some. It’s miserably humid and rainy, I’m Extremely Sad™, my back is so painful that I literally cannot stand up for more than five minutes at a time, I have completed nothing since the sixth because of all those reasons, including my mother’s Mother’s Day gifts, which makes me feel like the biggest ass on the planet, and the most creative thing I’ve done lately is make two origami cranes.
Hopefully saying this is like…anti-jinxing myself and things will start looking up tomorrow. Or the day after, I don’t care. Can we at least do away with this BS back pain nonsense? Please?
Only good thing that’s happened: my brother broke up with his abuser. BIG YES. I mean, I doubt he’s escaped her hideous, nasty, malicious, manipulative little claws forever, but…who knows. We can always hope. I’m not happy that he’s alone, I’m happy that his abuser will now hopefully leave him alone…for a few weeks, at least. Vile cow. (Not sorry; I refuse to extend any respect towards that creature. I am sick to death of her, and people like her. I do not apologise.)
We have a new Pope! Or, er, I guess the Catholics do? I’m not quite sure whether the Pope is everybody’s big Catholic or just the Catholics’ big Catholic. Either way, he seems like quite a nice fellow, and he’s anti-MAGA (or as close as a holy person ever gets to being “anti-” something…again, the semantics!), so fingers crossed. It’s always just nice to have good folks in powerful positions.
(I also learned that the Room of Tears is literally called that because so many Popes end up weeping there, for many reasons. I don’t know why, exactly, but I did find that strangely touching.)
I’ve been deliciously devouring the McKinney translation of Shounagon-oneesama’s Pillow Book and have gotten to the parts I never reached before in my original interrupted reads, and…siiiiigh. ♥ She’s just…SO delightful. Ito wokashi, even. ^_~ I deeply enjoy Dr. McKinney’s translation “voice”, and I love that she chose to translate so much more of the text (or texts, to be precise — there are four main variants of the original text; the one that Dr. McKinney uses for the most part is the “Sankanbon”, considered one of the most accurate variants) than Ivan Morris did, and much, much more than Arthur Waley — not that I dislike either of their translations, mind you! Dr. Waley’s writing was poetic and beautiful, and I’ll always have a soft spot for Professor Morris’ translation, because it was so obvious in his translation and footnotes that he admired Shounagon, if not being outright fond of her — and it’s presumptuous of me, but I honestly have a silly dreamy thought that Shounagon would have been rather fond of him, as well.
And I’m so full of thoughts about Shounagon’s Empress…she seemed like such a sweet soul, and the love between her and the Emperor seemed so genuine. Plus, how close and happy her family was, and it was so obvious that Regent Michitaka was so, so proud of her — of all of his children — and he expressed himself in such a jolly, honest, playful way…it’s heartbreaking to think of how it all ended. I was planning to read A Tale of False Fortunes when I finish The Pillow Book (or even before), but I’m not sure how much more sadness I can take! Ah, poor Sadako…if only you could have had your fairytale ending in that life. ;_; 24 years is far too young to die, and far too young to shoulder all that tragedy all alone…aaahhh, I’ll have to change the subject or I’ll start crying!
Apropos of Japanese translations and whatnot: why do letters with a macron (ō, etc) look so ridiculously ugly in some fonts? Either the letter itself is weirdly bolder than a macron-less letter, or the macron itself isn’t aligned with the letter below it…it’s so frustrating! And let’s not even mention that ō itself doesn’t appear to have an ALT code that actually works? I suppose I can use a circumflex o (ô…ALT+0244, for the record) in a pinch, but using a macron for long vowels in Japanese transliteration is the universal standard, so why is it so ridiculously tricky to utilise?! ><;
for the love of–
…how do you get “Ren” from “Rin” when it’s right there in front of you in two previous emails I’ve sent you? Right there. R. I. N.
(And yeah, I’m uber-sensitive about this; comes from a lifetime of people mispronouncing the deadname and then getting pissed at me when I correct them. If something isn’t even spoken and it’s right in front of your eyes, I’m sorry, what is your excuse?)
the poison, the rot
Honestly starting to question if I want to be online at all.
For the past few days, my focus has primarily been on offline endeavours. While my head isn’t in what I’d describe as a healthy place — I think that ship has long since sailed and won’t ever be returning to harbour — I definitely had it above water, so to speak. There was room for improvement, but I didn’t feel all…compressed and scrunched-up, soulwise. Boredom was a slight problem (but there again, it always is, even at the best of times), but otherwise I was mostly okay.
I step back online, and within a few hours of operating within the circles I’m in (largely out of lack of knowing what else to do, truth be told), I start feeling horrific again. Tears, anger, annoyance, and zero patience for what may be innocent mistakes. And I’m right back to feeling like a worthless outsider, to boot.
This…will require fixing.
It’s not being online as a whole — I like keeping in contact with friends, I love to code, I love to spend hours with my eyes glued to tutorials, and I love organising and planning different static sites. But there’s a certain…realm…I guess…I kind of have to keep up with, due to the content I create, and honestly, it and the majority of people in it, their careless actions and flippant attitudes have just crushed me. (And I do realise I’m being vague here; I have my reasons. Chances are you know precisely which sphere of the net I’m speaking of, but if you don’t…don’t worry. What it is isn’t really important; what it does to my is what matters here.)
I want eyes on my sites, but I don’t want to be under the constant eye of a digital equivalent of a homeowner’s association with a penchant for favouritism.
I want to make friends and forge connections, but I don’t want to be flavour of the month to someone and snarked about behind my back when they get bored. I don’t want to be carefully put into a place where I can’t defend myself from outright lies.
I want to create, but I don’t want to force myself to fit into a mould that crushes my heart to do so.
I want something real, not just lip service and an “affiliate” link.
This should be fun. This crap? Is not fun.
I think it’s time to quietly just step away from the whole poison lot of it. Maybe it’ll cost me visitors. Maybe that’s actually a small price to pay for not feeling like dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoe and stress headaches. I won’t feel this way in all communities I ever participate in…right?
Maybe it means I’ll always be alone, no matter how much I yearn for that connection.
Maybe even being alone would be better than trying to keep myself from falling apart in a mean place.
Or…well, no. Because I’m not alone on the Wired; I have real, genuine, decades-old friendships that with people that I would honestly die for.
When I was a little girl, I could play for hours and hours with my school friends. I was more than happy writing little storybooks just to distribute amongst them, I loved all the made-up worlds we spent hours building together; I didn’t feel lesser because I didn’t have an audience.
I shouldn’t feel lesser now, just because the only people who ever see the things I create are my friends. If only three people ever read Akayoroshi, that won’t make it unworthy or a waste of time.
I would rather feel real appreciation and joy in a tiny world, than tear myself to shreds in a huge one for the merest chance of someone giving the things I cherish and throw my whole heart into just an idle glance. If I created and played just for the sake of joy and the sake of my friends as a child, I can damn well do the same thing now as an adult — and the friends I have now are worth a thousand times more than any I had as a child, to boot.
glorious days.
I won’t say things are looking up, because I don’t know if they are; furthermore, I don’t want to jinx anything. What I do know is that the past five days have been wonderful.
Autumn has finally arrived — with a weird, almost finger-snap swiftness on Samhain! Honestly, it was just like someone flicked the horrific humidity and high 20s off on May 1st, and it’s been hanging around 24ºC with deal-with-able humidity levels, only very short rain showers, and night temperatures dipping down to 15º ever since! It’s absolutely weird, but I’m not complaining at all — it’s absolutely gorgeous. Over the past few days, the wind’s even picked up and is charmingly gusty. It’s as if the weather gods are rewarding us for a hideous, waterlogged summer. I’m so grateful to be able to snuggle up in lovely warm blankets at night, and be able to open all my windows and just sit during the day without dissolving into a puddle of sweat. This sort of weather is always worth waiting for, and always so beautiful in Queensland. ♥
The election was on the 3rd; I did my civic duty on the 2nd. I was 50/50ish on the results…and on the day I just dissolved into a flurry of anxiety and tears; I was so sure that Temu Trump was going to take power and the majority of the country wouldn’t see how vile he actually is — and I’ve lived in his electorate for fifteen years. He’s done NOTHING for Dickson (maybe we should be grateful for that), but he wasn’t going to do nothing to the country, what with all this BSing about gutting Medicare, nuclear power, and more and more…my family would have suffered greatly under Dutton in normal circumstances, but what with what the actual orange fascist is doing to the world’s economy at the moment? Hand on my heart, I honestly think that Australia would not survive it under a Liberal treasury. (Who made it so we completely and utterly avoided the GFC? Yeah, exactly.)
But, as I’m sure everyone knows, we won’t have to after all! The red landslide shocked the living hell out of me. The fact that the election was called for Labor only an hour after the polls closed in WA was also jaw-dropping. I was not expecting that — I don’t think anyone was. (Dutton certainly wasn’t!) I’m so relieved there aren’t really any words for it. And I’m so, so delighted and proud that I got to vote Dutton out of my electorate as well as deny him the chance to ruin the country. Ali France for the win! It’s glorious, just glorious.
The relief still outweighs the admittedly childish schadenfreude, though, which should say everything. Thank goodness for small, surprising mercies…
(Big spiel about how my political opinions and convictions actually align more precisely with the Greens than Labor, truthfully, but my annoyance with the Greens as a party means I don’t align myself on paper with them goes here. Pretend I actually wrote it. 😛 Or, you know, FriendlyJordies can do it for me. Videowise.)
I’ve been busy offline over the past few days. The cottage is still unfinished, but it’s far more than just a storage shed, now — I’ve set up so many things, like full bookshelves, my bed, my sofas, and a desk. Courtesy of my Dad, I even have a portable camping toilet (complete with privacy tent!) and a proper light hanging from the ceiling — having rafters can be very very handy, it turns out! I have some actual curtains hung up with strong magnets, big paper clamps, clothes pegs, and a little MacGuyvering on my end (what can you do with pride flags, paperclips, old bedsheets, and a ball of strong twine? Window coverings! ^_~). It’s actually a lovely little place to spend time in, now — I nap in there, sew and crochet, write, and who knows? I might even set my computer up in there, if my power source can cover it.
I would, ideally, like an actual house — I’d like the cottage to be finished. But the cold hard truth is that I don’t have the money to do that at the moment, nor am I in a financial position to start saving to do so. But I’m not wasting what I actually have. So I’m using it. Is it a weird setup? Yes. Do I care that it is? Not particularly, if I really think about it. It’s safe, dry, holds all my earthly goods, and keeps my cat safe. All else can come later, perhaps.
“The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”
I’m working on a lot of sewing projects, at the moment — turning a beloved old pillowcase and some old satin pajamas into a sashiko quilt, sewing the cut off seams from said pajamas onto a square of aida cloth to create a textured A5-size document wallet, and quite possibly using the larger non-quilt patches of satin for some kind of boro project…either a bag, or maybe tart up my poor old oversized and now rather threadbare jeans jacket that I got when I was 17. Boro on denim always looks wicked cool, so I’m leaning towards that one. Plus, said patches are pink and purple, and I’ve got some gorgeous variegated pink/white/purple sashiko threads…yeah. I think I’ll do that ♥