aesmael: (me-pangolin)
Haven't written anything here all week. Too much going on. Too much uncertain.

Am I dumped? Not dumped? Am I moving to Canada, the USA, Europe? Staying here? Right now it looks like Canada is the place that will be attempted, although I rather expect that will fail. My professional accomplishments indicate I can work well and stably enough but I find it hard to believe anyone would want me. Surely they'd want more of an economic star.

However I feel about the USA, I doubt that's any longer an option either. Who would want to be, functionally, a backup choice? And atop my prior concerns about fragile financial security and punitive healthcare system, it seems increasingly as if the USA does not want me. Recent political developments there are frightening and lead me to fear for the wellbeing of everyone I know over there. Although, the rise in xenophobia at least is consistent across the English-speaking world. That last makes me worry migration is being effectively phased out.

What's gnawing at me is the realisation I won't get to share my life with everyone I made that commitment to. I have to choose between people I love, effectively have chosen. People will think there's something wrong with me for not having realised this. And despite having told one that Canada was on the cards with the others, I managed not to say that had become increasingly definite.. That's really bad.

I've managed to make bad mistakes at every turn and hurt the people I care about most. Typical for me, but still wrong and not to be let go.

It isn't going to work out. My feeling is that love may last but not relationships. I'm going to end up still here, alone, and I don't think I will find anyone else to love again. That's probably for the best. We're lucky to have made it this far, even if the last half of the decade we had were increasingly distant and painful.

You know what? This has all been doomed since at least 2012. I've just been too cowardly to face it and make a choice. Even if that would have just accelerated the end of everything.
aesmael: (me-pangolin)

=== A Lament From 2017-07-11 ===

Even though I'm glad not to be the weekend supervisor any more, and especially to be taking fewer shifts at the library in general (now, if only that would translate into "living my time off in a way I feel happier with") I'm still feeling frustrated at not breaking them of all their bad habits before my time was up. Mostly this bugs me because it's me who works Monday mornings and has to clean up after any errors - they're not major problems but it still causes me a bit of extra work every week and tweaks my sense of "this is not proper". Currently the weekend staff is 3 new people (as in hired since May), 1 casual on Saturdays, and 1 long-term person on Sundays. Normally there would be one of the weekday full-time librarians on Saturdays but she is currently filling in as the head of circulation for another 3 months. So, a lot of opportunity for this stuff to get embedded and harder to shake.

On the bright side, yesterday and today involved meeting and training two of the newest casual hires. Working on being available and informative and keeping an eye on what they are doing, while also showing trust and confidence and not being overbearing, and being clear about the distinction between library policy and my preferred implementation of same. Little bit kicking myself for forgetting to update one today that library patron PINs don't actually have to be numbers. Maybe remember next time we work together.

Anyway: trying to be helpful and supportive, not hurtful, useless or assuming incompetence. We'll probably be working together semi-frequently, so I hope I like them and get along with them.

Feeling conflicted about stuff like: part of my role being stuff like telling kids to stop running around the library. Kids need space to be kids, rather than teaching them to suppress themselves. And spaces that are child-unfriendly also end up being de facto woman-unfriendly so long as the childrearing and childcare burdens fall disprorportionately on women. Plus the folk who complain about children in the library tend to get on my nerves and inspire me to feel vindictive toward them. But, times when there are many boisterous kids in the library do tend to give me sensory overload and headaches, and I'm sure I'm not the only person who is negatively by this - it surely makes using the library for intended purposes like work, reading and study more difficult. So I feel conflicted.

Luckily I'm not very good at it, and they tend not to stop running or playing Counterstrike quietly for very long?

Home stuff! Today a pair of socks I ordered arrived, long socks in asexual pride colours (black/grey/white/purple). Was pretty excited, and if they wear well I want to order some more in other patterns, especially since many of my socks are getting holes in their toes. After opening the package, showed them to my mother (didn't say the colours represented anything, just that I got new socks). All she had to say was to tell me not to wear them to work and that they're unprofessional.

That's really upsetting. It would be great if she were ever happy or complimentary for me about anything. The only thing I can remember her being congratulatory about was when I got hired from casual to permanent part-time, and that was an act of self-defence because whoever got my current job would be taking the hours I normally worked as a casual, and leaving me with sharply reduced income.

She doesn't show that she's happy for me, pretty much ever. Any time I try and talk to her it turns into her issuing orders and telling me to change, to be or do less, or what not to do - find doctors closer to home, find work closer to home, don't go places, don't buy your own groceries, and so on and on.

Can't she ever be happy for me? I'm aching for someone to share my excitements with, and sharing a home with someone who redirects every communication into a not good enough or an act of racism is poisonous[1].

[1] Latest example: on the weekend I told her I was watching the Games Done Quick stream, which is a charitable event raising money for Médecins Sans Frontières, and her response was to grumble about how awful it is those countries don't look after their own people. Gotta find a way to be negative everywhere, hey?

aesmael: (haircut)
Went clothes shopping with my mother and sisters. Ended up getting a couple of shirts, a skirt, and a big woolly sweater, 3 items of which am currently wearing. Family had wanted to go see a movie, specifically Absolutely Fabulous, but it was no longer showing. I'm a bit relieved by that as it's quite not my thing although I would have gone for the sake of being social. Siblings also got some clothes, as did my mother, but the latter turned down a lot of things we thought would have looked nice on her.

Been worried about taking the time out away from school when I'm in such dire circumstances, but it's rare enough to get some non-awful social time I chose to take the time and opportunity.

aesmael: (writing things down)

Today has been 2015-08-20 and it feels a long way from the 10th. On the 10th I had two assignments due, one of which I got done and submitted that morning. Also that morning, a call from the municipal council's HR about the job I had interviewd for the week before - references from my current position were unacceptable due to conflict of interest, being from my current employer and therefore also the employer I was hoping to get the new job with.

I had not any other current references; they said some pre-employement contacts would be fine. So rather than heading home to finish the other assignment I drove around first to the library the toy library of which I had volunteered at. The librarian who had been my contact back in 2011. She had gone home, but still worked there, and I was able to confirm a phone number with someone who was on duty. Then off to the university library I had had my second student placement under a few years before that. She had also gone home for the night, but still worked there, and I was able to get a phone number to reach her at.

So then I could get home at last and to schoolwork, although I do not really remember if I made much of any progress on the other assignment before its deadline. I did finish it the next evening and get it submitted before midnight and that was a great relief, especially as earlier in the day I had managed to call both of those contacts and obtain their consent to act as references for me, and forwarded their details to HR and got confirmation this would be suitable. Although I still have not heard back on how that went, and whether I will be getting the job.

But I did get word back on the other assignment, which was actually extra make-up work in order to not fail a class I took last semester. It served its purpose and I got my pass, which is great because one possible venue for being kicked out of school has been escaped. Still working on the other one.

Three weights off my shoulders. For a little while I felt so very light. But the fourth came right back; another request for an opportunity to take my practicum in a library of interest, sent that off Monday and by Tuesday night was rejected. Running out of time to organise that. Running desperately short of time.

But I keep being so tired from work, plus I fell into a void. Friday a day off, wanted to get my hair cut and take care of things, laundry and tidying type things. But instead I get struck down by some mystery illness. Supposedly only four days out of it until I could risk being back to work, but really it was infinity. Such vast span of time as to make all this typing a distant, distant reconstruction. Really only last week? Somehow.

I will get my hair cut tomorrow, and I will make another practicum request - I must! And perhaps my car will even get a new radio, if I am very fortunate indeed.

But I do not like tomorrow because today is the 20th and tomorrow is the 21st, and it would have been my grandmother's birthday had she survived this long. And it has been months and I still, still, still do not know how to process that she no longer exists. All that great void of never again. Keeps coming up and it hurts and I do not know what to do with it.

Driving to work today I had to go past the place where she was put to rest, incinerated a few months ago. Drive right on past like it was nothing and I a functional driver - and there must be so many people swallowed up in there, and yet people keep driving on by every day. Past where we bid farewell to my cousin the next week, and past where we had retired to gather afterward.

And tomorrow is nearly here and it will be an incomprehensible date of significance, and nothing will be done to mark it because all are sick; too much risk to others who still live to make mark when infection might spread, and someday it will mean nothing again.

I will get my hair cut, and try to decide what else might or might not bear the significance of the specific-just-another-day.

I had some good news, too. But I will put that in another post, maybe tomorrow, and let it bear itself alone.

aesmael: (haircut)
[title to be read in a tone of horrified realisation]

I had a memory tonight and I want to scream.

It's about the end of the world. I was remembering the week of the zombie apocalypse. Sometime not long before I had actually 'come out' the deputy head (or possibly by that point he was the head?) of the library program I was enrolled in, advised that I was going to start presenting as female or something like that. I don't know how I did it.

And I think it was the day itself. Maybe I am conflating two separate days in my memory now? But I think it was the day.

I don't know how I did it, that day in November - must have been - wearing a skirt to class while I could feel the world about to end. Managing to sit and get my work done when I expected at any moment to see people running past the door, a smear of blood on its window and some monster pressing to get in and devour us all.

Maybe it was a different day? Research says it was a different day. The terror was late October and early November, whereas that time I went out in a skirt was mid-November. But closely timed, and when I was making a psych appointment because I knew I needed something to protect me against killing myself if my mind were to continue conjuring up such dreadful imagery and beliefs.

My point is that then I had many of the same fears and concerns, but I was still fighting through for happiness and bold enough back then to try wearing a skirt out in public. Bold enough to 'come out' to an administrator and attempt something like a public transition. And now we are seven years later and I have no courage to do the same in my workplace, nor out and about in general.

I keep feeling like that year end was a turning point where I was pushed back by my mother being unsupportive and pushed back by a spike in mental illness and my response was to retreat from myself and go back into timid hiding. Only this year am I making a push to get new clothes again and to update my presentation. And I still, still do not have the courage to confront anyone about it. Still do not have any certainty of myself to know what I should declare. I wish I had gone differently, I think so.

aesmael: (haircut)

Finally answered the Malheurs' question about podcasts we listen to ('finally' - it was only yesterday morning). Left a few off because didn't want to flood, though. Mainly SF Crossing The Gulf, science news series like the Nature magazine podcast, and the story magazines like Escape Pod and Podcastle. And some I just can't recommend like Skeptic's Guide to the Universe partly for the often confrontational tone (and associated ablism) but especially what stands out is one of the host's periodic parodies of Asian accents.So, nope, however much I may enjoy I can't recommend at least pre-2008 version of the show.

Got the day off, so all that prospect of wide open day to fill and be diligent in. But we never manage that in the actuality. It's a nice dream.

Not been able to exercise in a while because of my leg, but that's healed now and was surprised at how easily the routine went this morning. First thought on the treadmill was that I really need to get a sports bra as the bounce was quite unpleasant. And then spiralling a bit of self-hate because it seems no one in the country makes sports bras sized for women as large as me with such small breasts. Going to have to wait for the regular bra I ordered to arrive and see how well that fits. And then most likely follow Ami's advice of getting a smaller size and an extender for the strap.

Hope that works. Been waiting on getting a bra sorted so I can fix up the rest of my wardrobe for nearly half a year now.

Last night on the drive home listening to Science Friday episode from 2015-02-06 they covered the final instalment of the show's bookclub reading The Lost City of Z. They'd been discussing that the past few episodes, a retracing of a British explorer who long ago went missing in the Amazon searching for a lost city. This had me wondering if and how such tropes as explorer's clubs and celebrity explorers might be used in RPGs, and whether this could be done in a non-colonialist way (the short answer I came to is probably no, and on my head be it if I insist on including them anyway). Ideas such as cross-planar exploration, seeking out unknown worlds and planar regions for establishing contact and trade or relations with, and possibly the world of narrative focus being but newly created and consequently not in a position to exert force outward. But that latter is less of a help than the details of motives in seeking outward and celebrating news brought back.

Alternatively or perhaps also, having characters be of non-European-derived societies, exploring into the ruins of a lost European-style society. Good excuse for lots of castle dungeons and monster-infested ruined townships. Could be explained as plague-depopulated (or some other catastrophe), much as what actually happened in the Americas and Australia when European settlers arrived (except of course no real monsters), although what I'd been thinking in that idea was not so much to make that parallel as more Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt to make a conveniently depopulated Euro-fantasyland. And the fact that it does make a parallel to the real world creates problems in using such an idea, because there is an implicit association that if such a depopulated land is suitable for guilt-free exploration and ruin-romps, then it must have been similarly okay for Europeans to go through Australia and those Americas after disease had drastically reduced the populations and ability to sustain existing societies there.

As was pointed out in the much more interesting (and far too short) following segment in which they had as guest an archaeologist to talk about actual Amazonian ruins and how they were laid out in a style of city distinct from any that I had been aware of.

Getting to the point where soon new stereo in car will hopefully mean can start over the list ordering and go into the big and hopefully final catch-up project. Especially since recent investigations and external developments will make that more possible than before.

Something on the drive home reminded me of my grandmother and, as ever, I wanted to tear my throat out so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I think I thought of aiming for a collision again but of course I won't, I wouldn't. But how am I supposed to make sense of her being gone? I wish I could cry, for her, for my cousin. Even for Terry Pratchett whose words meant so much to me growing up (she once bought me one of his books as a child and I don't think she ever knew how much I loved that book). But I can never seem to grieve properly. There is always something taking precedence - maintaining a good face at work; school; getting home without killing myself. I fear that someday I will have time to grieve and the window will have passed, I will not feel it any more or need it.

Again and again and again.

Today is always wasted.

I watched some things. Part 3 of the Doctor Who serial Marco Polo, I think. Did not pay a lot of attention to it or follow what was happening, so what was the point in watching that again when I could have been doing something useful? Episode 38 of Galaxy Express 999, of which I wanted to say something about how repetitive that show is but this time it actually did something a bit different, showing a bit more of the workings of the interstellar railway line. Some episode of Scott & Bailey in the background, which I suppose I keep up more by inertia than anything else. I wish I had the time and the will and the focus to - if I am going to watch something - actually watch it and pay attention and think about it. I pressure myself too much to get through things and so cannot appreciate them.

School is stress. I am sure I am going to fail. I am always sure, and always sure that this time I really am. Of course last time, over the summer, I actually did, which means I am on academic probation and definitely have to pass this class to escape penalty. And I am doing so badly with it. I very much need to focus and not be social, to push through being tired when not at work. Today I tried to get progress on my assignment, the last one that will determine my grade, and mostly ended up wrestling with bibliographic tools before giving up and doing it the old-fashioned way. Insofar as using style settings in a modern office suite can be considered old-fashioned.

But at least I have done something. I have made some progress on the readings and entered some information into the document, so that is technically progress. I need to make this into my life somehow if I am to succeed, but I hate it already and thoroughly.

Been leaving lots of journal entries unpublished of recent, as the day escapes me. I wonder if I will ever publish them?

aesmael: (just people)
My grandmother died a couple of days ago. The funeral is later this week.

Feels like this ought to be a longer entry but I would rather write something than delay and try to think of more and ultimately write nothing.
aesmael: (nervous)

Quiet, main achievement was folding laundry that had been sitting for a few days. Brief, quiet shift at work, main excitement was person who came in at 10 minutes to closing wanting some books but did not have his library card nor any ID we could use as proxy - in fact he hadn't been in so long his membership was no longer in the system; not about to let him use the account of the person he said was his son's either and potentially run up fines in someone else's name. Violated policy by putting the books aside for him to register and borrow tomorrow (today), so as to close up in time rather than push an argument for unknown duration.

Got home, found out my grandmother's life expectancy is estimated at 3 months. Don't know how to process this, never had to lose someone so close previously. Spent so much time grieving for her future loss when I was a child and she was healthy; Should I start grieving more early in preparation? Is there anything I want to do or say? Probably should do some research on how to approach or support someone terminally ill. If she knows - for at least the past year she's been inconsistently able to recognise her own immediate family or where she is.

Although so far she's always seemed able to recognise me. In a way I hate that; all branches of my family seem to have given me always so much more attention and value and support than my sisters, whether because I was firstborn or they thought me a boy or what. It's unfair to my sisters and not a social expectation I'm equipped to live up to.

Watched the second half of the writer & directors commentary on The Fellowship of the Ring with Ami. Finished reading The Player of Games for the discussion group. Still like that book, still find it lacking in parts.

Followed up on some correspondence I've been delaying on. Mostly university stuff and pre-planning for move to USA. Paid for the coming semester of school, updated my calendar with assignments and medical appointments. Updated work on when I'm available for shifts over the next roster period. Did some revised cost estimates on shipping stuff, got rather upset at the thought I may have to reconsider bringing my books. Made some new plans.

Failed to have the nerve to call and book an inspection for the car today. Used web form instead to book one for next week. Hope that won't prove too late. Checked grades for my summer class, looks like I failed it. Disappointed especially because I put a lot of effort into the most major assignment and thought I might have done well in that.

Going to try working on some personal projects and try not to think about food.

aesmael: (friendly)

Came home to find my family had bought a new set of cat-frighteners. A cordless vacuum cleaner, an autonomous robot vacuum cleaner, and what I think is some sort of electric broom.

I don't know how they can afford these, or whether this is wise, but there you go.

Edit: On closer inspection, I believer what I referred to as an 'electric broom' is actually a steam mop.
aesmael: (nervous)

A thing which happens more than once is I find out at the last moment about major household stuff like impending modifications to the building or expected guests who must be prepared for, or some other such thing.

And it is distressing to me not only because unexpected impending disruption and not only because I feel I have been left out and no one saw fit to actually inform me of what was going on. But especially because when I say I did not know and have not the faintest stirring of memory on the matter, my family will insist I must have known and must have been informed, and if there is any defect of awareness it is mine.

I feel like my hold on reality is slim and my frequent fears of disconnection with the world be realised. But, if I can't trust my memory then, then what can I trust?

I don't know. I don't know.

Originally published at a denizen's entertainment. You can comment here or there.

Last week I finally got to read to Pazi again. Have been missing doing that for months and months, so it felt good to return to sharing stories with each other. Was also satisfying to at last get to the end of The Austere Academy, so next time we can start on book 6.

A few days ago Pazi returned the favour by reading to me a story from her copy of Northwest Passages. Hopefully this week we will be in a position to each exchange some reading, instead of only one of us being up to per call. Or maybe this is just the way it falls out.

I keep worrying I am being annoying in wanting to share the reading of stories with my loved ones, despite evidence to the contrary. All my words at the moment are coming out fake and hollow, so I doubt I could fairly describe how exciting it is to get to share stories with those I am closest to.

Originally published at a denizen's entertainment. You can comment here or there.

*walks past laundry and into family room*

Mother: What's up?
Me: ... I walked too far.

Originally published at a denizen's entertainment. You can comment here or there.

Today's the day my mother and her husband left on their long vacation in Europe. Since I have never yet been able to afford a place of my own this is I think the first time I've had an opportunity to direct my own life without anyone else looming over me.

Repeatedly leading up to this people have checked on me that I know how to do things like sweep floors or wash clothes or cook food. I find it upsetting that people seem to view me as rather more helpless than I am, especially since there doesn't seem any conscious basing of this on my having a disability that does make self-care difficult for many (perhaps if they did I would be bothered by that instead, but right now this foundationless presumption is bothering me). Maybe it is not without foundation, and I will turn out fairly unable to survive without someone else looking out for me. I hope not. I don't think so, but I worry. Been looking forward to this opportunity for quiet and self-management.

Since we have been left some money to buy food I have been wondering if I might redirect some of my own money that I'd been saving up to pay for food during this interval to instead buy some gloves, so I have something to keep my hands warm. these ones look nice, albeit expensive. Would be tempted to get a pair in emerald and another in ruby, so I can wear them mismatched with each other, but what I will probably do is ignore the money we've been left, buy my own food, and then see if I have any extra savings.

As well as saying farewell to my mother and her husband, today was also a day for turning in forms to Centrelink so they know I've been a good and diligent job-seeker. The late afternoon was a bad time for doing that, as I had two close calls driving due to glare from the setting sun obscuring other cars or their signals. If I don't have to drive at that hour, I'd much rather avoid it.

They also offered me access to turning in forms online, which would do away with the fortnightly trips. Unfortunately their demonstration tools were down at the time, so I will have to wait until next time. Ah well. Detoured after to the shopping centre in search of fresh cleaning fluid and cloth for my glasses. Somehow managed to make a complete loop of the place before finding my goal right near where I started. At one point accidentally crossed the line of connection between a young child and eir family, which reminded me to be glad I was there alone so I did not have to manage connections with a group.

Fear not, I do not intend to go back to daily chronicling. Been trying to be a bit postier though, because I want to.

aesmael: (just people)
Today was the day of a funeral in the family of my mother's husband. So far in my life I have experienced two weddings and at least four five funerals, which is probably an effect of my knowing very few people near my own age and my extended family (in every extension I am aware of) consisting primarily of people at least twenty years older than me.

I knew em barely at all and had no connection to be remarked upon, so I was not in a state of grieving myself except abstractly, but I lacked desire to be disruptive and had desire to participate and to learn from participating. I think I care about people who were effected and do have a pragmatic and moral interest in their well-being. I do not know how true I will regard these words at any future. I think there would in hypothetical scenarios be concerns from other parties about privacy and the publication of family matters; I desire not to violate such wishes that I believe are held by others but do wish to write about my day and things which happened in it, so I am attempting a compromise which hopefully satisfies both interests.

It was a hot day. I was sent to the entrance to the cemetery to watch for my sister's arrival and guide her to the proper location. Due to circumstances beyond her control she was not able to be there for the service and I was about a minute late getting in to the service, the last to enter. I worried during the service that my customary behaviour of (attempted?) alertness to my surroundings would be perceived as rude and disrespectful, a worry which is typical to nearly any extended interactions in physical space.

At the end of the service time was set aside for reflection. Classical music was played during this time which had frequent strong peaks at the start and which I experienced as disruptive of my thoughts and ability to reflect. I ended up focusing more on the music and concluded it was a waltz, probably a Strauss waltz. Dance music seemed an odd choice for a period of reflection, but I thought anyway people's reflection on the deceased and related thoughts would not be contained to an assigned duration.

After all this the service was ended and people filed out. I was fascinated by how this happened, the order in which people left. I was sure it must not have been pre-decided or organised and wondered if it were a social response reflex signalling when it was appropriate to stay and to follow so that what resulted was an uncoordinated orderly exit. That might be nonsense, the preceding sentence. Am trying to express that, in the absence of explicit planning, I thought the effect of a neat, orderly departure might have happened via unconscious exchange of body language with reference to social roles. I do not posit myself as immune to such an effect.

The wake followed, at the home of immediate family of the deceased. My experience of funerals is that they are relatively happier events than media would suggest. Following the service there is typically a gathering of many people who are not in contact especially often, with extensive socialisation centring on the concerns of the living as happens at any other similarly composed gathering. Most often exceptions to this would be those closest to the deceased, but not necessarily. The gathering was loud in conversation and went on for several hours. I contributed to the conversation at some points, mostly near the beginning and later on when people had begun leaving.

As usual it was not until I was back home that I became aware of the strain going out and being social puts on me. Once I got changed and sat down I noticed myself being overloaded, feeling a strong desire to curl up somewhere quiet and cry. I was still under obligation though, so I postponed that further. Whenever I am reminded of this cost of social events I wonder if doing more of them would inure me to this or if it is something to be accepted and lived with. I suppose the thing to do is test by trying more social things, but if the answer to that question is no, how do I tell when I have tried hard enough?

Knowing when I have tried 'hard enough' is not something I have a good history of.

Originally published at a denizen's entertainment. You can comment here or there.

(04:12:04) celestialjayde: "I find it interesting that when people are friendly to me I expect it to be a some form of entrapment or manipulation. Was going to say 'not sure why' except there are precedents... it just has not been a consistent feature of my past so I feel a bit unjustified in feeling so."
Well, but I feel myself unjustified in pretty much all areas.
(04:13:16) Pazi: Mrrr.
(04:13:20) Pazi: Have noticed that.
(04:13:55) celestialjayde: That I feel unjustified?
(04:15:10) Pazi: *nod(
(04:15:28) Pazi: Seem to presume that your thoughts/feelings are lacking in validation, not to be trusted much
(04:16:13) celestialjayde: Aye. Don't have so many experiences after all.
(04:16:35) celestialjayde: Was saying to [ profile] mantic_angel not long ago, don't see myself in just about anyone's narrative.
(04:17:41) celestialjayde: So I don't feel I can claim anything to myself or speak up as among any group because I look at the stories of those people and I don't see myself there. Sometimes a little bit if I stretch.
(04:20:04) Pazi: *nodding*
(04:25:04) celestialjayde: That and reading your latest comment here - - reminds me of intending to write something about revisiting most recent psychologist for seeking help late last year, and the focus on post-happening analysis from when she assured my family of me being knowing what I am doing that-
*takes breath*
The focus being on acknowledging that I was too soon immediately after in trying to express to my mother why it hurt me to presume autism made me incompetent unless certified otherwise by a professional, and not on the bit where I broke under pressure to lie and claim wrongdoing on my part during the argument just to get my mother to stop hurting and pushing at me and let me be alone.
(04:26:30) celestialjayde: Because the more I think about that, the angrier I am that her focus was on teaching me I misjudged a social moment to express my pain and not on the bit where the response to this was me being beaten down into a broken apologetic wreck.
(04:27:23) celestialjayde: And I do specifically use 'broken' here in the sense of 'people under torture can eventually be pressured to capitulate to anything simply to make the pain go away'.
(04:28:30) Pazi: *noddly*
(04:30:02) celestialjayde: I worry that linking to torture is too strong a term to apply here. Don't know how else to describe a situation where I knowingly betrayed my own principles in order to make it stop hurting.

aesmael: (friendly)
Between myself and my mother, A and B.

A: Had an interesting dream last night. Someone throwing knives at me and me catching them and throwing them back*.
B: Well that could be a good omen.
A: It was a good dream, with the lack of the end of the world or dread or apocalyptic scenarios.
B: You should stop watching those things watch. Watch something happy instead, like Mary Poppins.
A: I once read an interpretation of Mary Poppins as existential horror :D**

*Did not mention the pump made by, for and of Pokemon and of which people had to cast water-breathing spells on themselves to survive the tour of, nor the unexpectedly homophobic team-member who declared it unfair that someone else got to help a plane with gay people on it to land when he was not allowed to just let them die. But pretty happy / fun as dreams go.

**sometimes accurate transcription requires this
aesmael: (writing things down)
Only want to say a little about yesterday. Very foggy in the morning, so small the distance objects faded away, fairy lights wreathed in white. The traffic was good, but for a while everything went flat for me and I saw 2-dimensional objects arranged in a 3-dimensional landscape. Very briefly, but odd and intriguing and possible I think to replicate deliberately.

It was approximately enough my supervisor's birthday that a minor celebration was occurring. I had fortunately baked coincidental scones, so that worked out well. And for lunch one of the people I have been working with took me over to our library's shadow twin, where I got to chat with Q on her lunch break. That was fun.

Was also one of, perhaps the first time I was less pleased to be home than at my placement, especially being unable to retreat from family to WoW since not renewing. Well, sometimes it is just not pleasant to go home. I keep hoping once I can manage on my own I feel more competent, less of a screw-up in reflection of everyone else.
aesmael: (it would have been a scale model)
Sometimes I make pretty bad typos, often the sort where I mean one word and accidentally type an entirely different but correctly spelled word.

This time where I meant to address my girlfriend by name I instead said to her 'power drill'.
aesmael: (just people)
The urge to deny previous love is strong, perhaps that by making it false we bolster claims of present feelings true and eternal.

If I could have said those things and meant them then, and now feel them not... it is not a transition pleasant to contemplate concerning current relationships. I think perhaps the recoiling embarrassment felt is to disbelieve the present might be as fleeting fragile as the past has been.

Though we hope it not to be.
We just had a bit of a problem with the dishwasher. Wasn't closing. I suggested, not seriously, it might have spontaneously broken. But we had no idea what was up with it until the cat slipped out from under the bottom dishwasher draw.

Apparently the problem was 'cat lodged in dishwasher, please try again later'.

He's fine, by the way, and giving me some kind of stare from his perch atop the speaker right now.



September 2017

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