#'my friend is a speech therapist so i know loads of stuff; you can also talk to me about What Happened'

[la-galaxie-langblr]

Above is a recording of my first few sections of orals, it's linked to my podcast Google account so thankfully I won't be doxxing myself skdhsksjls, anyway yeah if you click on it you can listen :) I'm not great at pronunciation though so apologies in advance. If you're new here I have a fairly severe speech impediment, and I will take advice and corrections on pronunciation and grammar but not on how to stammer less.

Transcript under the cut:

Ellis: Bonjour Tumblr, et aujourd'hui je vais dire mes réponses à mes questions orales au sujet de l'école et l'université. Donc, la première partie est les questions sur les plans futurs.

1) Je n'ai aucune idée à propos de mon métier futur, par contre il vaut mieux que le travail me fasse plaisir et que je pourrais gagner ma vie. J'espère que je saurai le boulot que je voudrais faire quand j'aurai fini mon diplôme universitaire.

Et alors, le deuxième section est l'études futurs.

2) Mes parents veulent que je fasse un diplôme en gestion, alors que moi, j'aimerais étudier le français et la linguistique au niveau universitaire l'année prochaine.

Mistakes I made and I'm aware I made: should be la deuxième section and les études futurs.

[rorybergstrom]

𝑫𝑰𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑩𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑲𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑻𝑯 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑫  ???

            hello, it’s nora again…. hitting u with another child. a south london-born softboi who deserves tenderness. has a burner phone and doesn’t use social media. does techno dj sets. plays the synth loudly through the night if u live in gorham his room always sounds like a space ship just landed. deals weed around campus on his rollerskates. hates that he can’t get new light up wheels because ana coto made rollerskating cool again. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board. this intro is recycled?? so if theres mistakes, sue me??? and be sure to like and subscribe for more unboxing content x

application.

『 FIONN WHITEHEAD ❙ DEMI-MALE』 ⟿ looks like RORY BERGSTRÖM is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY student. HE is 23 years old & known to be ECCENTRIC, FANATICAL, NITPICKY & DOGMATIC. They’re living in GORHAM, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ ooc name. age. tz. pronouns. 

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some. right now is dad to one cat, whose name changes on a daily basis (identity is constantly shifting, duuuuude), but they were originally named ‘wheezer’

rory has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… is very tender and tame… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

hm now that rory has !Evolved! ig we can do hook up plots if u want but he’s not tht good at divorcing sex from emotion?? like he  hooked up w teddy once n felt hopelessly inlove so..... if u want soft plots b prepared for crippling sadness.......

stay groovy XD XD

[gotatext]

hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. i couldn’t stay away.... hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse. fyi sorry for those of u who have read this intro a thousand times i literally.... can never b bothred to change it n i think thats really sexy of me x

CHARLIE PLUMMER / DEMI-BOY — don’t look now, but is that rory bergström  i see? the 23 year old music student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, impassioned, self-indulgent and nitpicky, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he / they will make a name for themselves living in griffin street. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. rory don’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all!! slippin out of his physical form into the spirit realm! isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but currently feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it!!!!

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

occasionally deals weed n pills when strapped for cash, but only 2 ppl he knows, and on a very small scale grass-roots level!! (so its ok???) rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car. we love to see it

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

actually i think rory had sex w delilah in the last version of this rp so if u want a hook up plot its possible just unlikely. they’d hav 2 be the driving force i reckon cos rory doesn’t really act on impulses like desire or anythin.... jst bottles that shit up !!! but yea we could do a spicy hook up plot maybs, depending on the person

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[halfusek]

BATIM SPOILERS AHEAD

SECRET MESSAGES FROM CHAPTERS 1 - 5

With a sort of analysis/shitposting on my side? Yea.

Chapter 1

There is like two walls with these, that’s a lot. Is he... aware from the beginning now? I mean someone’s crossing this and Henry is implied to be leaving these messages so...?

Choose your fighter.

Ok wow harsh.  Haven’t you seen all these cool AUs in his house?

Also can I just point out how... Joey... literally... drew... the Studio...

Oh, my bad.

He drew STUDIOS. Because the damn thing keeps happening over and over again.

Oh fuck if that’s the case then that is clever. I made puns about him drawing the studio before, wish I did something with it before Chapter 5 dropped, that would be hilarious to look back at fvdfjkvnfkj

That’s just depressing. But like... yeah...

Wow Henry you must be a proud mom now

Hey remember when DAGames played Chapter 4 and was interrupting Alice Angel’s monologue by telling her to stop watch him poop

It spells “There never was a choice.” (never underlined)

Those messages are either hilarious or straight up depressing.

It’s... kinda sweet how Henry from the past (pasts) helps his future self (selfs). And encourages.

I’m pretty sure she’s got many hearts in her stock.

STOP WATCHING ME POOP

Henry what the fuck

The falling human made out of the two Ls, the Y and the splatters above it-

Fuck.

GASPS NO WAY

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He is not the creator of the cartoons. He is the creator OF THIS WHOLE FUCKING STUDIO AND EVERYONE IN IT. Like it’s maybe a sort of obvious thought but when you let it sink in... damn

Rest of the chapters under the cut because it’s really long

Chapter 2

ARE THOSE IRL BODIES? YES? NO? SYMBOLS OF THEIR SOULS BEING TRAPPED HERE? WHAT???

Do you remember that? Or only slightly? Oh man. “I should have warned him” thoughts and then you get a pissed off boy in Chapter 5.

COME ON NOW

Ok. How. How did you write anything there. When. The only time he’s aware would be right after Sammy hits him with the dustpan. So is he like fainting and writing it? So he wouldn’t be able to write anything else like SAMMY IS GOING TO KNOCK YOU OUT WITH A FUCKING DUST PAN because yeah he’s passing out so it’s just... OUCH! Also to confirm this he is facing the way he’s facing when he’s on the floor. God that’s both shitposty and depressing. Nice.

Henry don’t be a dick

So you do sing 👀

I wonder how Henry figured out walking backwards to not trigger the Demon here and write this specific message. Also is Joey behind those closed doors because there’s the whistling.

Is he cooking

Chapter 3

Oh, hi.

Excuse me what

Henry is a Jacksepticeye fan confirmed

Joey is a man of ideas... and only ideas.

Which is why he created a studio, an OC based on a person he has a one sided crush on (me) from who he stole and claimed their OC as his, also made that stolen OC a thing and then made both of the OCs fight in an infinite loop in the massive studio which is behind his kitchen.

This both has a literal meaning but is also like a deeper general thought Henry do you want Joey to create a therapist OC you seem to have some problems

Why do these coffins hurt so much

Who are you asking Henry because Alice sure won’t fucking read that And why won’t you just write it with regular ink why you gotta do it like this

Why does he keep this thing secret? Did he make it? Probably since he’s the one leaving the messages Hmm

I fucking wheezed.

But also imagine Alice just giving her speech and Henry writing something on the wall with his finger Unless he doesn’t write that in a literal sense but like... spiritually Huh

THEY HAD DRINKS TOGETHER AND JOEY WAS PAYING FOR THEM AWW

He’s so fucking gay I swear to fucking gods.

Let’s hop on the existential crisis train, choo, choo.

How can you be kind to people who try to murder you

But this. This. Is such a good fucking work/life thought like damn. I love this game for those.

But are those just some thoughts Henry wanted to get out of his head or does it have something to do with the game because I’m kinda getting pacifist/neutral/genocide route vibes from this. But it it’s not the case it’s still pretty neat, we do meet them, we just don’t have the choice to treat them in some way most of the times.

It’s on level 14 and damn you game damn you yet again. I guess it can also be applied to that moment when The Projectionist is reaching out for Henry who is hidden in the Miracle Station? Like we don’t know what to expect of him because he had that small moment of realisation of... something. And he is also one of Henry’s “old friends”.

Is Is Ink Demon killing The Projectionist a symbol of Joey’s jealousness like Norman: *reaching out in curiosity, maybe to help* Joey: >:( my fren

Chapter 4

Thanks. Roll credits. So Chapter 4 is intentionally pointless in the terms of Henry trying to save Boris. THAT’S FUCKING SAD STOP IT

NOT. MY. DOG. YOU. BITCH.

So Henry is catching up. Joey does regret all that shit he did. I wonder how exactly does it tie here, with Bertie. Maybe that theory I had about Bendy Land being Hell for Bendy? :0c I don’t really think so but that’s a thought.

I’m losing my shit.

Okay that seems like another woke thought.

Henry can’t change not being able to save Boris.

Joey can’t change all of his mistakes. But Joey is the one making it happen over and over again so it might be slightly pointed at him?

Like, pal. Stop dwelling on your mistakes. Move on. Let me the fuck out.

This game is really heavy with this problem:

Move towards your goal, hope, believe, dream, don’t give up. Well actually do if it’s like super hard.

????? This is such a deep uuhhh analysis of this like one of most basics functions of how we people fucking work and live, what keeps us going. Holy shit I am IN LOVE with that.

But oof yeah Henry was and IS the one good at pushing Joey to do the right thing. Man...

Instead of trying to cheer you up lemme just write this message you can’t read real quick.

THAT WHOLE FUCKING THING WAS POINTLESS AND I’M LOWKEY MAD

;_; holy lord sweet baby jesus

Can Henry like be fine fun concept Meatly please

I suggest giving this a read if you as I weren’t familiar with that expression https://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/09/23/heels/

Of course it’s a pun on “Time heals all wounds” expression. The word “heels” there refers to contemptible people. Earliest citation: 1934 and it got more popular around that time till something around the 50s-60s according to that website at least. Neat.

That is interesting. I guess we can associate the door with Joey as well since Henry warns himself not to go through them? And the Demon drags Projectionist’s corpse through them. Sorta against his will, heeeeeeh.

They look like they could be interactive but I dunno :0c

Oh, yeah. That two-faced motherfucker. That’s my bitch.

HE GAVE THEM FUCKING NAMES

Chapter 5

I feel like it was kinda exaggerated. Henry they like saved your life twice or so, how salty can you be

OKAY LET ME TELL YOU ONE FUCKING THING

AT FIRST WHILE PLAYING I THOUGHT JOEY WROTE THOSE BECAUSE

I mean why the fuck would they drop this star outta nowhere AND HE IS EXTRA LIKE THIS

But then again there’s this “Don’t go through the door”

Unless Joey did contact him through this as well? But I’m assuming it only because of the stars vfnjksd Idk I like when symbols actualy uhhh symbolise something

ALSO YOU KNOW WHAT’S INTERESTING

This is pointing at ANOTHER way. Without the boat. Possibly the Valued Employee (take the long walk) achievement?

I would check it right fucking now but my saves are fucked and I would have to replay everything again and I’m just too tired hhhh

Also Valued Employee does sound like someone who listens to their boss right?

And I’m getting the impression it’s not all Henry’s writing because it seems as if there is a different personality present? Idk

That sounds like sort of both of them. Joey is cheering for Henry, even if he’s planning to make him go through all of this again. Does he... have to make him go through it? That’s a bit odd. Joey nani the fuck.

I like the idea of Joey saying this ok lemme dream vskjvnskjvs

But it could be Henry (past/present/whatever) trying to cheer himself up like he did with the “Don’t be scared” message (if that was also him)

Oh, Henry...

Once people That implies that real people got somehow affected, right?

I love the halo and the bone, also you can see the bone only if you give it to Boris in Chapter 3

Wait It is The whole fucking Ink Machine Is inside Holy

A cooking gay.

Ink Demon/Joey parallel implication. I don’t think he is Bendy in a straight up sense though. He is/was a soulless boss, just how soulless Bendy was/is. I wonder if there is a studio version of him or HHHHHH complicated stuff

Is it like When people create something good but they just don't know when to stop it eventually ends up really bad And the Demon took The End so his cartoon couldn't be finished and it all had to keep going, Joey had to keep going Hm?

So like there is no message on Henry’s second desk

But it does trigger the same dialogue AND IT HURTS

Actually a lot of people missed the arrows so just so you know

But I thought we don’t like doors

Also it’s the last hidden message so I do believe it has a special meaning

CONCLUSION get Henry outta here and give him loads of therapy

Is his fucking last name Stein because he made monsters via the Ink Machine by powering it goddamnit Joey don’t trick people into creating that shit

[twistednuns]

February 2020

I managed to use my iPad as a second monitor for my computer. So tech savvy. Yay me!

Joking about developing a sex-based cardio programme with Manu. Powerfucking! Might help against aggression as well.

A late night phone call with Tom. Not saying much.

Making a huge pot of my grandmother’s signature veggie stew.

More Bon Appétit test kitchen videos. Chris recreating tacos. Claire making Ben&Jerry’s. Priya making her mum’s Indian curries.

Writing a letter to Lena. Drawing upside down bats (which makes them look like they’re having a wicked dance-off). Just the act of writing. I thoroughly enjoy looking at my handwriting.

Using the Salted Coconut handscrub by Lush. Especially now that I wash my hands so often when we’re working with clay at school. I feel like the peeling triggers some pressure points on my palms.

That Saturday productivity high. Cooking and preparing heaps of stuff, cleaning the windows, doing laundry.

Painting my nails like an expressionist artist.

Some portrait studies. Accidentally drawing Sirius Black.

Being really motivated to improve my Spanish. Working with Lorena, the Duolingo app and even starting my own grammar/vocabulary book.

This ultra quirky ASMR video. Also: watching videos with Erin an her boyfriend Chris. It’s amazing how well they work together. How you can almost feel their connection, how similar they are.

Carrot cake oats.

Seeing the The Darkness live again, this time with Margit. Justin’s outfit and personality, singing along, especially to Time of my Life, the band’s traditional first song after the show.

Meeting Chris. Having a Bramblette cocktail at Pusser’s. I like that place. Feels very old-timey with a rowing boat right under the ceiling. We made out in front of a tiger slide in a toy store window on our way to the next bar.

Peeling fresh carrots.

Pickling onions and making kimchi. My fermentation game is strong these days!

Looking through Dominik’s sketchbook. I loved the tree whose bark resembled a mole burrow with its underground tunnel system.

The flu. Yes, really. Fewer pupils at school. Quiet times. I’m actually surprisingly healthy. I’d guess my probiotics must play a role here… Who knows.

More sourdough experiments. Writing about it (DELICACY - a haiku. Oven-warm sourdough / salted butter, alpine cheese / and a strawberry).

Finding a really interesting list of SanFran hippie era book recommendations at the end of Robin Sloan’s Ajax Penumbra: 1969. In the mood to read Maya Angelou, Tom Wolfe, Jack Kerouac, Richard Brautigan.

Even more beautiful books: I really enjoyed Die weiße Stadt by Karolina Ramqvist, a feminist author from Sweden, and the graphic novel version of To Kill a Mockingbird. But two books that literally (well, figuratively obviously) blew my mind were Circe by Madeline Miller (mythology, loneliness, animals and plants, magic and monsters, some desperate kind of feminism, independence and strength) and Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (magical realms, university setting, psychological depth, unexpected twists and turns). I haven’t read anything comparable in a very long time and I desperately hope that there’s more to come from these authors.

A beach collecting all the world’s single socks in The Magicians. Oh and of course seeing them break the moon. What a sight. The show is super confusing, obnoxious and absolutely fabulous at the same time. Best example: the Freaky Friday szene in which Margo and Eliot switch bodies. I love how the actors took on each other’s speech patterns and behaviour.

A new addition to my colour vocabular: celadon (a greyish green; there is a type of ceramics you’ll only see in this colour which is not surprising since the shade provides such an interesting contrast to the the earthy, rusty orange of burnt clay.)

Manu telling me that he had rarely seen people with more joy in their eyes than me (“Ich habe schon Freude in deinen Augen gesehen! So ein Leuchten kann man nicht simulieren.”) after complaining about being bored and lifeless. / Making curry with or, well, for him the other night. Drinking Liqueur 43 with cinnamon and milk. Playing the Jackbox party games for which you can use your phone as a controller.

Finding myself in a well-known sitation from the past. Lying in Frank’s bed in the early morning hours, not that tired yet, when he starts talking about his life and his depression. In English, obviously, because that’s our emotional filter. Relating, since I feel quite similar. Coming up with a suggestion for a reciprocal support system. Let’s see what we can do for each other.

Looking at travel photographs. The sea, the cenotes. Longing to go back to Mexico or Australia. Diving. Taking it all in.

Dreaming of my grandmother talking about her biggest regrets in life. Weirdly she was in a little bundle under a coffee table, much like Voldemort in the last Harry Potter movie.

My weird, weird brain. How both pleasure and pain enhance my sense of smell and increase my brain activity, almost causing hallucinations and fixations on ideas. Like geometric shapes in gloomy off-colours and a beige silicon-like surface the other night. All I could think of was a benchscraper.

Blue eyeliner.

Brainstorming three-letter-words with Frank since I’m thinking of getting personalised Nike Blazers. Sad cat. Yes but. Dat ass. Why tho.

Flying squirrels. Watching them wobble through the air. How they look like cute exhibitionist when they’re extending their limbs and thus stretching their, well, let’s just call it wings.

The fact that red cabbage has an intricate pattern like brain convolutions when you cut it open.

Talking to Sonja for the first time in over two years. What a strange person. Interesting, too. At least in homeopathic doses.

Ripe strawberries and nectarines. Oh my god. I love fruit.

Meeting Eve at Pub Quiz. She identifies as female, loves swing dance, used to be an animator and I love her style. Also, I realised that really like Betty. And Dennis wasn’t mean to me for once. I love my nerd friends <3 And I learned that Starbucks was named after the first mate in Moby Dick! Also, coincidentally they asked a question about the city where To Kill a Mockingbird takes place (Maycombe, Alabama) after I had read it the week before.

Inviting Lorena to the Botanical Gardens. I always feel very happy and very much myself when I’m there. I sometimes wish I was a gardener. Lorena was late so I walked along the Spring Path outside and it might have been the first time I’ve seen a brussels sprouts plant. Inside I learned lots of Spanish words and marveled at the incredible butterflies. The huge yellow one right behind the entrance was my favourite. Its delicate feelers were fascinating.

Washing my hands at the Keg’s bathroom. Looking into the mirror. Suddenly thinking of the perfect karaoke song… Rescue Me by Bell Book and Candle! I kept singing it for days on repeat. My neighbour must hate me (nothing new here) especially since my voice is too low for the chorus.

It isn’t hard to see how such attachment patterns can undermine mental health. Both anxious and avoidant coping have been linked to a heightened risk of anxiety, depression, loneliness, eating and conduct disorders, alcohol dependence, substance abuse and hostility. The way to treat these problems, say attachment theorists, is in and through a new relationship. On this view, the good therapist becomes a temporary attachment figure, assuming the functions of a nurturing mother, repairing lost trust, restoring security, and instilling two of the key skills engendered by a normal childhood: the regulation of emotions and a healthy intimacy. // An interesting article on attachment styles and why theraphy works; it makes me want to learn more about attachment theory. This School of Life video is a nice addition as well.

That dream. About a book shop modeled after my picture of Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore. There was an old man in a very narrow but high-ceilinged room full of books. There was no light source except for moonlight or some street lights. There were loads of stairs, very steep, leading to the back of the house. Upstairs the man would set out cat food and on the rooftop there was an old sailing boat. One day the man decided to open the door to the roof and let visitors see the ship, much like a museum; perhaps to attract customers. However, in the next night a cat-shaped ghost appeared who reminded me quite a lot of Kot Behemoth character in Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita. The ghost was not amused about the old man’s decision and took away his key, a big golden one adorned with a red ribbon.

Toasted sesame makes pretty much every dish so much better.

Watching High Fidelity with gorgeous Zoe Kravitz (I adore her effortless style and her outfits), getting in the mood for making a playlist and listening to more music in general. There are all these great songs out there I forgot about.

Remembering the xkcd storm chaser comics.

Making a wicked good batch of Pho for Tom.

Spending a nice evening with Alex at Shamrock. Singing along to American Boy by Estelle. Confirming the hypothesis that the nerdy, quiet ones usually have a freak streak. That moment in the morning. Eye contact and kegel exercises.

Karaoke with Margit and Betty. Meeting Manu’s doppelganger. Same type, looks, voice. Eerie.

Making a BA Gourmet Makes meme for Steffen after he had passed his law examps. Strangely Gaby kinda looked like him after I was done with it.

Saturday morning in bed. Reading comics and graphic novels. Fresh bedclothes, surrounded by books. Since it was February 29 I thought about leap years and asked a few friends what their inner seven-year-old would have done that day (based on the thought experiment that your birthday was on February 29 and you’d age in 4-year-steps which would divide your age by 4 obviously).      

I came up with: visiting grandma / eating Cini-Minis / falling asleep with my face buried in a cat / beating my neighbour Anna at Memory / drawing while listening to a Bibi Blocksberg cassette.

Alex said he’d have been outside all day, building a snow igloo. Not noticing his mum telling him to come to dinner. If the weather had been bad he would have played with his dinosaur collection. His inner 7-year-old was a hopeless dreamer who got agitated whenever his parents had a fight. Who came home late from school every day because he forgot about time when he was talking to his friend next to a hedge with thorns that looked like tiny airplanes.

Lena said she would have been outside all day long, playing in the mud with the neighbours’ kids. Of course.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

the thing about having a condition that makes your fine motor control skills and gross motor skills/hand-eye coordination hella bad is that it’s hell going through school. like in sport I was consistently told that I was a failure bc i struggled to catch a ball and I only caught on how to use a skipping rope by year 4/when I was 10 years old. to my teachers I never “trying hard enough” or “always letting down the team” in games like basketball or footy or god knows what else.

then when it came to basic handwriting, I was always made the example of “THIS IS NOT WHAT TO DO IN YOUR BOOKS CHILDREN!!!” in front of the class bc i wrote over the margins of the pages in my book to keep my writing in the lines, my writing wasn’t small and neat like every other girl’s HW. instead mine was clumsy, loud and messy, too large to be any type of acceptable. so I was always told that I “wouldn’t get anywhere” if I continued to write like that. my maths book was a fucking nightmare to look at bc I couldn’t write in a straight line without lines on a page. I couldn’t draw shapes (or even trace shapes) properly. I struggled to rule straight lines for tables/graphs and shit in maths. but instead when I fought back to my teacher’s ripping my pages out bc it “WANST NEAT ENOUGH” with “I literally can’t help it though!!! it’s in my (fucking) medical stuff!!! IM TELLING THE TRUTH!!” i was told to go outside and think about the consequences of talking back to my teacher. when all I wanted was to be believed, for fucks sake. science in high school was much the same.

in year 6, we had had to do a sewing project. my hands shook too much to put the needle through the holes on the cross stitch thing that we had of a penguin. I couldn’t get the needle through the cross stitch thing in general or get the thread through the needle etc. all bc my fine motor control skills were awful. but what did I get from my teacher? the “you’re such an embarrassment/failure” speech. “everyone should be able to do this by 12. what’s wrong with you? you failure of a child. im embarrassed for you. everyone else can do it, why can’t you? you’re just being lazy and you’ll never be a real woman bc you can’t sew! what an embarrassing thing for you!” when I had to have my teacher and other students do it for me. like sorry I have a condition that makes me unable to perform ~womanly~ duties miss sanderson. go fuck yourself. and also i’m pretty sure we’re in the 2000s and not the 1800s? so sewing is something I don’t really have to KNOW by 12 years old????? fuck off.

when it came to high school it got worse. my year 7 geography teacher (who I also had in year 9 for commerce) constantly made it seem like I was less intelligent than everyone else just because my handwriting was messy and also because i struggled to draw maps to scale. again, when I fought back with my “I can’t help it it’s medical” I was branded a liar and told to shut up and go outside to reflect on my behaviour. although I’m actually leaving out how the school I moved to (which was part of the catholic education office etc like my primary school) refused me access to the computer that the primary school had given me the year previously, SPECIFICALLY to help me with high school. I have no idea if it had anything to do with funding or whatever like they ~said~ it did.... but I always felt like they were too lazy to help me. like i was just meant to get bullied by staff lmao. generally from every other teacher I got: “will you EVER take ANY pride in your work? ugh, you lazy kid 🙄.” in a super snide voice. anyway moving on.

next comes art and tech (like wood-shop/metal-shop etc for americans). in year 7 art, I was screamed at by the male teacher I had bc I couldn’t weave a fucking wicker basket. “YOU’LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IF YOU CAN’T WEAVE A BASKET!!! YOU STUPID CHILD!!!” like???? I don’t even need to know how to weave a basket mr hellick but what-the-fuck-ever. i struggled to get the fronds together etc of the basket etc, so again i had to get my friends to help me or that teacher to help me weave it. like. you fucking asshole, im trying but I literally cannot do it. in year 10 art, i was made to finger paint my rock-pool painting bc “you just have no control over a paintbrush, do you? ugh when will you learn to be neat 🙄? also honey you have to wear gloves while doing it!!! you don’t want to get it all over your hands or yourself!” like yes I agreed bc it was fun and messy (ngl).... but when everyone else was doing intricate shit that 15/16 year olds can and should do, i was the 5 year old.... i was treated like a toddler just because i couldn’t sketch properly and couldn’t hold a paintbrush ~properly~ or some bullshit. and also the paint is non-toxic. and im not stupid enough to drink it or whatever the fuck you think im going to do... for the reminder about wearing gloves (also it was partly health & safety but still). they usually mocked my artwork anyway and called it ~abstract in a way~ bc i couldn’t draw well enough to make anything distinguishable, unlike my sister who for some teachers was an art prodigy. “why can’t you draw like your sister? her art was always good!” um probably bc my sister doesn’t have my condition and she’s always been good at drawing? and also i’m just not my sister? god. fuck you.”

then we get to tech (woodshop/metalshop etc). in this typically all male environment (for teachers anyway), my work was again marked out as “what not to do!” in year 7 tech. the teacher I had in that always mocked that my cutting of wood wasn’t “straight” and that it never matched up etc. “like what grade are you even attempting to pull with that piece of garbage?” fuck off, mr finkelstein, ugh. in metalwork I could only saw my chimes which turned into crowbars for like 5 minutes each bc it made me tired in that interval, while everyone else could saw for like 20 minutes straight. so I had to get other people to saw for me from time to time, so in the end that project was never finished. I was made to look lazy when I didn’t have the stamina or the strength for that assignment. finally there’s plastics, where I couldn’t use the glue gun or the soldering iron bc I both shook too much and my hand was too weak to use it after some other students in my class. so again, my friends had to solder for me or do the glue gun for me. I technically failed that subject too bc I “wasn’t engaged enough” or w/e and also bc I ended up burning my leg by loading a glue gun over it 😅.

by the back end of high school I was straight up told that I was “going to fail” externally marked exams (the school certificate that not longer exists and the HSC) bc they simply wouldn’t take the time and effort to read my work. do you know how degrading that is? like fuck, excuse me while I don’t fucking bother to study if they’re going to straight up fail me (which never happened anyway.) but at least the public school i moved to actually fucking fought for me to get a computer for my end of high school (hsc) exams, where as the catholic school just went on with the “you’re going to fail your school certificate writing the way you do!” and tried to get me to use a writer (another person obvs) as did the public school. but god it’s fucking impossible no matter how much you study, to articulate your thoughts under exam pressure to someone else. just let me write lol.

but my point is that, in all of these subjects I was trying harder than most people (not counting sport lmao), but the mess etc that was caused by my condition... and how it was treated as a lie or an “excuse” for me to get out of things by my teachers was awful. when in fact, it was a real problem that i had several years of medical appointments with a specialist doctor, an occupational therapist and assistive technology (well in primary school anyway) and loads of tests and shit done for.

so if you’re a teacher or are currently training to be a teacher, if you have a kid like this in your class/es please don’t be this awful towards them, please know they’re trying their best.

[songofmysnark]

“Perfect,” by Ed Sheeran

The least perfect song in the world.  This shit is fucking awful.  It’s bad enough that I have found it necessary to present evidence that Ed Sheeran may have been put under the spell of a powerful sea witch.

Let’s dive right into this unholy mess of unexamined emotional hellscape.  Buckle up, kids.

I found a love for me Darling just dive right in And follow my lead

Why are you diving, Ed?  Stop mixing metaphors, are you ballroom dancing underwater?  Are you waltzing through a swamp?  Why are you wearing scuba gear to this tango meetup?  ED WHAT IS GOING ON? I am worried.

But before we clarify what’s going on, who are you speaking to?  “I found a love for me” is not something you say to your smoochiepie, but then you’re addressing “Darling” and instructing her to dive into your shitty mixed metaphors.  Are you singing to us, the audience, or your love that you found?  Are you telling a story or serenading your lady friend?  Ed, this kind of shit is why you are so goddamn easy to mock.

Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet I never knew you were the someone waiting for me 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love Not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time

I’m coming up to speed here, my befreckled carrot chunk.  Let me translate: you had a crush on this chick, she didn’t like you much, and then you got rich and she was like “welp, gotta survive somehow” and is now swallowing her pride and marrying a guy with a giant jungle cat tattoo on his chest because it means she won’t have to work anymore?  Cool, glad I’m reading between the lines.  Gold digger, redheaded nugget, it’s a warm-toned match made in heaven.  

But here is where Ed Sheeran starts to do the thing that sends me into a feminist rage spiral:  nothing about this woman is at all about her as an individual, but it is definitely about him as an individual.  It’s one of those “Nice Guy (TM)” things that I hate: the dude here gets to have autonomy and his own story is central to the narrative, while simultaneously, his comfort, pleasure, and gaze are prioritized.  

He found a girl?  No, he did not.  She existed all along, he didn’t do a goddamn thing.  People are not hidden fucking treasures, Ed.

She was the someone waiting for him?  No, she was doing her thing, Ed.  And then you came along (again).  You really think she was waiting for you any more than you were waiting for her?  I mean, you weren’t, you totally sing songs about boinking other ladies.  You both just met at a convenient time and were like “I guess you’ll do.”  Stop making this sound like she actually held out for you.  She didn’t.

You were just kids when you fell in love?  AS OPPOSED TO WHEN, ED?  YOU WERE BORN IN 1991.  YOU HAD TO GROW INTO THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS, PAL.  And we know nothing about when this chick fell in love with you.  Hindsight is 2020, my sweet little baby child crooner.

Let me put on my therapist hat, my little tattooed gnome.  When/why did you “give it up?”  I’m curious.  Tell us more about that.  No?  Not wanting to talk about how you likely acted like a bit of an ass to this woman?  Okay, let’s keep going.

Can we talk about this one thing, though?  Your phrasing is odd.  Like, your syntax is fucking horrid, but points to your own self-centered brand of narcissism that has become your trademark.  You are the one dancing in the dark, and you have her between your arms while dancing.  Not only is this just weird, because the subject/object relationship separates you both, but you’re not even saying that you’re dancing together.  You’re dancing, and she’s an accessory placed between your arms.  It also sort of sounds like you’re in the 8th grade and dancing like a mummy -- you know, the way kids sort of hold their arms out and sway during slow songs?  If they didn’t have each other, they would look like mummies.  Are you mummy-dancing with your love, Ed?  Or are you just writing lyrics that center around you as the primary figure and place your partner as a peripheral accessory object that is described in terms of her physical relationship to your body parts?  Isn’t the point of dancing like that about togetherness, like “we were dancing together” or even using a transitive verb to at least link the activity between you two.  Nope, dancing in the dark, and she was an accessory.  Like a flashlight or a bolo tie.

I know, I know.  I’m so pedantic.  And you’re singing about your experience, from your point of view.  You’re right -- and I’m not saying you shouldn’t think or sing or say this crap.  You can do all those things.  And I can judge the living shit out of you for it, because you come off as a selfish, childish, manbaby.

Moving right along...

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own And in your eyes you're holding mine

Ed, you’ve got to cool it with the weird possessiveness shit.  But this has given me a great mental picture of her eyes growing tiny hands and ripping Ed’s eyes out of his head while they (the eyes growing the hands) scream “MIIIIINE.”  Oh Ed, the beautiful images you paint with your lyrics.  Never change.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

See, this shit?  This is gold.  This is why I have a tumblr dedicated almost entirely to the shameful pile of lyrical poop that is Ed Sheeran’s discography.  Let’s break down everything that’s wrong with this fucking terrible refrain that we will be subjected to repeatedly, over and over, on our traffic-laden commute thanks to Top 40 radio’s obsession with Ginny Weasley’s favorite saccharine leprechaun. #magicallypernicious #unluckycharms

She said she looked like shit because a. she thought so or b. she’s thirsty AF.  And you’re like “you look perfect tonight.”  I mean, that’s sweet, but also, WTF were you doing barefoot in grass with your favorite song playing?  Were you camping?  Was this a date?  Did you tell her that this OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY ORCHESTRATED EVENT was happening?  Did you give her a chance to, like, make sure she put her anti-humidity spray in her hair before you took her out to some swampy field and put on whatever her favorite song is?  What is her favorite song, Ed?  Do you sing it?  I didn’t think so.  NEXT VERSE!

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets To carry love, to carry children of our own

I swear to fuck, Sheeran.  Stop.

Every goddamn time I hear this verse, I just cringe.  My whole entire body just shrinks up into a massive, painful, muscle-spasming cringe.  Part of it is that melodramatic way you sing it, really going to town on the microphone when you sing about “carrying children,” that makes me hope for the cleansing tide of early-onset alzheimers to wash away the memory of ever hearing this goddamn line being belted through the speakers of my Toyota.

And I get it, you were like “hey I’m a lyrical genius, did you know that the word ‘carry’ can be used as the verb when describing someone bearing and/or transporting a physical or emotional load AND being pregnant with a baby?  Cool, man, you figured that out and had her carry secrets AND your future spawn, because you are that ~*deep*~ to be like “I can use the same verb to describe keeping secrets and popping out some progeny!”  

Do you only value her strength because it’s useful to you???  Way to be.  This is why we still need feminism.  You are framing this all about what this person can do for you.  She can carry your secrets for you!  She can have your baby for you!  She can be strong for you! As previously established, you are disorganized and have a hard time delegating, but seriously, nobody needs to bear this fucking burden.  You’re just like “Fuck her own stuff, fuck how strong she’s needed to be while I behaved badly toward her!” (Reminder: you apparently gave it up and left her for a bit; see verse 1 because you know I keep my receipts).  

And really? To carry MORE than just your secrets?  Like, that’s already a fucking load to bear and now you’re going to weigh your ladyfriend down like a pack mule with the rest of your fucking baggage?  Way to be a gentleman.  Grow a pair of gingernuts and figure your shit out, son.

By the way, what secrets are you keeping?  Like, big secrets?  Like “Dick Cheney would waterboard you to get at them” secrets?  Or just, like, whatever you did at music camp when you were 11 and played a little too much truth or dare?  You know what, forget I asked, the idea of combining enhanced interrogation with Ed Sheeran’s pre-pubescent truth-or-dare behavior is making me want to bleach my mind’s eye.  Carry on, my wayward son.

What dreams of yours does she share, Ed?  I know it’s a figure of speech, but last night I had a dream that in the middle of an international cuisine tasting conference, I was tasked with butchering an octopus in a college dorm room and ended up having sex with Ursula the Sea Witch, so I wouldn’t wish my dreams on anyone.

And sharing her home, Ed? Is this your nod to feminism, like oh, despite singing about her as an accessory, I’m going to acknowledge her earning potential and, in this version of the narrative, make sure you know it’s her home.  The wage gap doesn’t exist, she’ll be the one to get us a home, I’m progressive! Or are you implying that she’ll be a homemaker?  Either way, this is not a good look, Ed.

We are still kids, but we're so in love Fighting against all odds

How the fuck don’t you realize that I keep my goddamn receipts?  You referenced how you were kids back then (see verse 1 above and my joke about being born in 1991, buddy) and now you’re like “WE’RE STILL CRAZY KIDS!”  Sweetie, buddy, pal, my guy, the lack of continuity here is astounding, I mean how the fuck are you making so much goddamn money off of these truly awful songs?  

I know we'll be alright this time Darling, just hold my hand Be my girl, I'll be your man

Nabokov already wrote this novel.  You know, that whole “light of my life, fire of my loins, I’m dead when she leaves me” book?  Yes?  No?  Okay, look it up later.  

I see my future in your eyes.

Plot Twist:  Ed Sheeran is in love with Lolita, but Lolita is an immortal and ageless sea witch.  IS THIS WHY HE WAS DIVING RIGHT IN?  

It doesn’t matter if her name takes a trip of three steps down the tongue if she steals your voice.  How’s that for lyricism?

I have faith in what I see Now I know I have met an angel in person And she looks perfect I don't deserve this

Okay, I was wrong.  This entire song is about his complicated relationship with a sea witch who has cast a spell.  If you sing it in a minor key, this shit is really ominous.  I have faith in the truth that I see now before me, she has revealed her true identity and it is terrible, please make it stop, I see the horrors for what they are now!  It’s the angel of death, I have seen her in person and I don’t deserve this torture!  She is perfect in her wrath and I must pray now and praise her while recanting my douchebaggery, I am now crying for help in this field as my love has revealed herself as a mirror into my own terror, and I am but a shapeless narrator without an audience, screaming into the void!  Is this why she holds your eyes in hers?  Is this why she shares your dreams, because she can see inside of your soul and reflect your own desires back at you until you’re blinded and crazed by your own self-centered bullshit?  Is the sea witch using the Mirror of Erised as a shield to protect herself from your bullshit?  

We’re worried, Ed.  

You look perfect tonight

For fuck’s sake, Ed.

[thisisthewayitis2021]

Finally, I'm getting round to posting my first piece of writing. I suppose it is to be expected. I cannot plan for anything as every day brings a complete unknown in the way of energy.

I absolutely do not want this blog to be any 'sorry for myself' kind of emotional outpouring, and depressing to read. It is a journal, like the journals that people used to write, in lovely notebooks with a key. But not locked of course. That's ok, I don't mind. Books are the same; people write books and people read them. Books are as freely available in bookshops. In fact more so, as there is no membership of bookshops required or vetting of readers. No questions asked by the assistant in Waterstones if you want to buy a book on any subject, to see if you are suitable and respectable enough to buy it. It's just a bit more effort to go to town and go to the shop, buy the book, go home, make a cup of tea and sit down to read it. Although you can buy also buy a book online nowadays of course, or even read one. And as instantly, anyone can write and read a blog on a phone.

A blog is the only way I can think of, that I can actually do, to record the information as requested by the long covid clinic. I'm not even after 'followers' to be honest, as really it's like a scrapbook, something creative for me to do and enjoy, that I can add photos to, and other lovely things perhaps. Pretty to look at maybe, if I can figure out how to do that. If anyone wants to look too, they are very welcome. Though I can't imagine it will be that interesting. Not sure what hashtags to put, or how people find each other really on Tumblr. It's all new to me. I can't read long things online myself at the moment, but maybe one day I will follow some blogs myself. I will have to come back to things throughout the day, or even over several days to edit. But that's ok too. There is no one to answer to or give me their opinion. And I will have no idea who reads it.

A diary was requested by the Long covid clinic adviser, (an Occupational therapist called Christine, who was really kind) during my initial appointment on June 24th. That was over a month ago. I instantly ordered a lovely notebook to do it. "I can do that", I thought, relieved to finally be able to do something to help myself. But have not written one word in it. Unbelievably that is too much effort. So then I thought of a blog, to just do on my phone. But I just have not been able to get that together either, to a) read the instructions on how to create a blog, and b) write anything, until Friday (4 days ago) when my son set this Tumblr blog up for me. This is the first day I have felt able to write anything. It seems a bit strange to ask for a diary, of someone who has difficulty thinking and committing themselves to tasks because they have energy, focus and thinking problems. But hey, finally, here it is. I can't look at a computer screen for longer than half an hour on most days before feeling scrunched up inside my head, so that seemed the best way forward. I can just sit on the sofa and at least write a few lines to say how that day has been. And edit and add to it at intervals. And if my eyes aren't sore, then something a bit longer on my laptop. Then there will be a record for the long covid people. Or at something I can refer to to remind myself, when I eventually have the appointment. This is, to be honest, something patients are getting on with themselves. Self management. I'm on a mission to recovery. It will also be something I can look back on when I am better.

So here I am. And hello to anyone reading this. This is a better day. I have had 3 lying on the sofa and doing zero. Therefore I am feeling pretty good today as that is how it works apparently, I have been told. You have to wait to recover from the most gentle activity which if I was well, would be no problem at all, and perhaps one in a series of activities as I like to do stuff.

But now I have to pace myself. Where are the emoticons on here? Rolling eyes emoticon to be inserted here when I can find them. This is tricky as I am a very usually a very active busy and rushing about kind of person. I have not had to take my dog Maisie out today as Ed the Borrowmydoggy walker has taken her for a walk, and I have not used up much energy at all. I'm saving up my bank of energy for hopefully meeting some colleagues for tea and cake tomorrow afternoon. I'm so hoping I will feel up for it. I really miss work, and a sense of routine and normality, and daily contact. And a sense of purpose. I love my job. Tomorrow would be the first time I have been away from out of my local area for two weeks. And it's only 10 minutes away. I'm nervous though as last Friday I met 2 friends in a local pub for 1 1/2 hours for lunch and it took 3 days to recover. It took about 6 minutes to walk there. I had lunch with them which was really lovely. I walked the 6 minutes home and picked up Maisie and walked her round the block. My legs felt like lead and it was really hard work but I needed to. She needed to have a walk. I then saw another friend in my other local's garden which I walked past and went and sat with her for half an hour. That wasn't essential I know, but I wanted to. I live on my own you see, and with feeling so poorly, can get quite down if I don't see or speak to anyone for a day or two. That was all I did. Less than two hours activity. But it completely knocked me out for the rest of the day. And the next. I could not think. I could not watch tv or listen to audio speech. My mind was completely still and I lay still on the sofa, staring, listening to sounds on the Calm app. I felt very depressed. The day after that was marginally better. I could watch 30 minutes of tv, but then my brain started to feel scrunched up inside after that, with the concentration and I had to switch it off. The TV that is, not my brain. That was already off.

Anyway. That is nearly all I can write today. That's what happens. I hit a wall and know I will come to a stop in few minutes and need to close my eyes. I have a few sleeps a day. There is loads to say, But I will write a bit more tomorrow.

As far as today is concerned, it is ok so far. A bit better than yesterday. I will rest now and listen to the radio for a bit. Maybe watch a bit of tv later. I think I'll be able to manage an hour or so today. Feeling more cheery. I did some meditations on Calm this morning. Mindfulness. Being on my own and having noone to talk to, the grief of missing my dad who passed away in January, my health weighing me down, and thinking of my future can feel a bit overwhelming sometimes. I have always been someone who doesn't bottle things up, and expresses myself.. can say how I'm feeling and says what I think. So it's helping.

I am a glass half full person though, so this blog isn't going to be all gloomy. And I still have my sense of humour. So catch you tomorrow.

Take good care.

[weoutherelike-blog]

The Naughty List

‘Tis the night before Christmas and all through the house, every flat surface of the living room is occupied by your lounging family members. Your beautiful family is painted with TV lights over a countenance of holiday bliss and you can’t stop admiring them. It’s quiet and peaceful and you’re surrounded by the people you love most in the world, together sharing this moment. You’re so proud.

Then you notice I’m on your television. You turn up the volume just a little bit, careful not to wake up you-know-who that’s always the first one asleep. I’m doing a press conference. You remember that I’m not likely to do press conferences, but I’m on every channel and I’m not answering your texts, so you start to believe the impossible.

I’ve invented a machine that enables you to experience your heart’s deepest desires. It manipulates the brain in precise patterns that it can run all your fantasy simulations subconsciously, and it’s done in such an authentic and believable way that you’ll have sharp and lasting memories about living out your dream scenario. Some Very Important People have already agreed it’s one-hundred percent effective, having each been given a demonstration. Everyone is now discussing what’s to be done with my machine.

You’ve been watching the conference for a while and it’s past bedtime but since I’ve made possibly the most groundbreaking discovery of all time, everyone gets to stay up a little longer. You learn that the machine has no way to record the adventure it sends someone on, so each fantasy stays private and locked within the vault of your own mind. You’re free to live out the life you’ve always wanted. Marry into royalty. Be the most famous person on the planet. Do the weird sexual stuff you don’t have the guts to actually try. Live out the plot of Blade Runner and be the one who Runs all the Blades (I’ve never seen the movie). It takes only seconds to use for a lifetime of incredible memories, and can be beamed remotely into your head so you won’t even have to leave your chair. 

You also learn that I’m the only person who can operate the device, so the government, in a fit of holiday spirit, has kindly allowed me to keep my machine under the condition that they never have to wait in line to use it. 

We’re reached the grand finale of my speech: I have a December 24th gift for everyone. Any person, anywhere, can earn earn a turn with my machine exactly one year from now. For the next three-hundred sixty-five days, each of you will accumulate points for day-to-day acts of kindness that are deemed worthy and the results will be displayed on the back of your left hand. It is up to you to discover which acts will earn you a go with my machine.

It would be dumb not to try.

My awkward announcement to all people of all nations ends with instructions to have a good night and sleep well, since the game begins as soon as you wake up in the morning. Your family excitedly doubts anyone will sleep tonight, then gets extra hugs and scrambles off to bed. Visions of sugarplums dance in your heads.

You wake to a shift in the atmosphere. Today everything feels a bit more special. Your family is smiling with sincerity in all the photos. You hear “please” and “thank you” and “you’re so welcome” as gifts are unwrapped in a calm and orderly fashion. True gratitude is being expressed at dinner, actual compliments are passed around, everyone notices the decorations you spent so much time on. Every so often, you see the number increase on the back of your hand. It’s happening to every one of you and the kids shout in delight each time their tally grows. It’s one of the most satisfying and fulfilling days you’ve ever had. No one bickered, no one felt excluded, nobody was put upon or overwhelmed. Each of you were the best versions of yourselves today. The points are a nice bonus.

The next day is even better. You hold the door for a stranger and your total rises. You pay for a co-worker’s coffee and get a little boost. All the while, every person you encounter is the friendliest you’ve ever seen them, and you begin to notice little changes in each person’s face when they score big. Internal celebrations seep into subtle smiles and the vibe of wellbeing intensifies. The rough edges you’re so used to seem softer. By dinnertime, everyone has heard of The List that’s being crowdsourced online of every scoring action and the average point gains being reported from around the world. Later in the week you watch a news report confirming that I’ve seen this list, and checked it thoroughly twice before authorizing it. You call me to see how I’m doing (3 points) and congratulate me on how my hair looked in that last interview (point), and ask for a few hints between friends for some higher-earning deeds.

Your Facebook friends are sharing their scores with palpable glee. Twitter is flooded with tips and tricks to maximize your daily average. Everyone’s Snapchat story includes video of them handing a water bottle to a homeless man or donating clothes to Goodwill. You can’t remember feeling more upbeat and motivated. You challenge yourself for weeks to beat your previous day’s score. Your boss gives you a promotion while eagerly staring at the back of his hand. The lady whose car you back into in front of the Chipotle gives you a hug to calm your nerves and offers you the extra guac they gave her inside. Celebrity scores become a hot topic and the most popular Reddit thread is a stream of fantasy synopses that you can sort by popularity for ideas. 

These are the new best days of your life. A month later, the news is suddenly dominated by reports of people scamming the system. A young man in the South found out he could score points by signing up to volunteer, even if he didn’t show up to help. Two businessmen in South Africa racked up high scores for the hundreds of fake charities they created. A new rule was implemented: anyone caught cheating is now being publicly shamed for their punitive point losses in a document with a complicated military code for a name. Everyone just calls it The Naughty List.

A few weeks later, there’s a ripple of panic worldwide as people slowly notice their default point-earning actions are bringing in lower and lower numbers each day. You’re pretty annoyed at the grocery store when you’re only getting one point per cart you give up to someone else in the entrance. And when you bump into your ex’s new partner in line at the gas station, you nod at them politely three times but nothing even happens. Not one single point. It’s frustrating.

There’s a conspiracy theory going around that points are somehow tied into the significance of the action. It seems that robotically performing the same actions won’t cut it anymore. You aim higher, and the reward is worth the extra effort.

At least you’re not one of the disgraced people whose points fell when they were caught shoplifting or bullying or shaming a mother for breastfeeding. You’ve always been a good person. You check the total on your hand reassuringly throughout the day as you flip back and forth between the 24-hour televised coverage of the Naughty List’s newest inductees and the 24-hour countdown until next Christmas.

One day a woman in Bangladesh leaves her long-time abuser and that evening she’s an international news story for having gained the highest amount of points for a single achievement. It’s a game-changer once everyone realizes that taking care of yourself is a high-scoring act of kindness. Therapists become the highest paid, most sought after career. Suicide-line callers generate as many points as suicide-line volunteers. Checking into rehab nets people so many points that facilities set up overflow units. And you notice the change in your own life: finally making an appointment with your dentist got you points. Asking your friend to talk you through that panic attack got you points. You get more points than you can believe when you treat yourself to a massage for the first time in your life.

Yesterday, a senator abolished private prisons and jumped up to the top score in his country. Today, there’s a mad rush for all the political parties of the world to solve all of humanity’s problems. Global trends are analyzed. Low-scoring people are being shunned and anyone with a negative score is rounded up for questioning. You’re currently at a Walmart, loading up on 50 pound bags of dog food to bring to the animal shelter. You only manage to grab three because two other guys had the same idea and you had to argue over them. Now your good deed is making you late for work and you’re on edge, so when the cashier asks you how many dogs you have, you snap at her that it’s none of her business. You can feel everyone’s eyes on your back as your immediate area goes quiet. One whole point slides from your hand. You’re mortified. You’re apologizing profusely but the customers are already passing around a silent look of distaste at you. “You better watch out,” one of them says as tears well in your eyes. “And no use crying or pouting about it.”

You call me a few days later to confess to The Incident and describe your great remorse while asking if the Naughty List is a permanent thing. I could tell you were disappointed that I don’t have the power to give or take points, but it’s still nice to hear from you and I wish I could talk longer but participation in the game has far exceeded my initial forecast. So I’ve been working on a way to amplify my machine’s signal in order to beam everyone’s ultimate fantasies into their heads simultaneously to everyone in the world in just one night. I even opened a facility up north and hired some seasonal interns to help me.

It’s sweet of you to call, though. You glance at your hand hopefully. 

It’s now been most of a year and you’re living in a utopian society. Everyone is on their best behavior. Everyone is practicing self-care. Life as we know it has drastically shifted. We’re curing diseases with all the money that everyone can afford to donate with the enormous cost-of-living wage increase everyone was given (corporations discovered they can score points of their own). You went back to school to learn that thing you’ve always wanted to try, resulting in an even hundred points, so you’re riding high. That single point on the Naughty List hasn’t haunted you for months. You give everyone on the street a friendly greeting because one out of 30 scores you a point or two and it’s just good math. And everyone smiles back, so it’s win-win. 

December rolls around again and the perfect world is in a fever pitch. Rival Good Guy Gangs are fighting to show each other up with huge point pools. Your score is no longer a protected status for discrimination in the workplace, but you get two points for the email you wrote thanking your CEO for the opportunity after you’re replaced with someone almost double your score. The Top Ten are the most venerated human beings in modern history. The two Lists are dominating headlines and infographics came back into fashion. You’ve been perfecting your most wished-for fantasy in your head instead of looking for jobs. 

Your family hasn’t spent much time together after the basic interactions were overused into low-score territory. The easy ones like reading to the kids, making lunch for the family, letting you-know-who sleep in so they won’t be so grumpy - none of them come with a reward anymore so everyone has moved on to grander undertakings. Keeping up with your point-league is starting to become a full time job, but not one that pays the bills. Your face hurts from smiling at every. goddamn. person you cross paths with and you’ll never admit how jealous it makes you that you that the idiot who almost got you expelled in high school managed to pull eight bodies from a burning building AND rescue a litter of puppies all in one week. It totally threw off your racket. 

There are only a few days left until I load The Lists into my machine, tune into the brains of the Worthy, and make everyone’s dreams appear to come true. You’re broke and exhausted from shopping for 156 more people than usual, crossing your fingers that it’ll buy you a few more points in the home stretch. You stood in line at the post office for 90 minutes to send me a package of homemade cookies. You’ve been sitting in your car for a half an hour trying to talk yourself out of flaking on your volunteer shift at the Complimentary Compliment Call Center for the second time this month. It all seems so fake, anyway. Every action is in the pursuit of points. You’re just glad that the game is almost over.

Your entire family is relieved on Christmas Eve. You made it. Of course, the fantasy world you’re about to experience is exciting, but you haven’t felt this relaxed all year. The family decides you’re so close to the deadline now that a few more points won’t matter, and everyone should just focus on having a nice holiday without the pressure of the numbers on your hands. You love your family even more for the suggestion, and you all sit down for dinner with the most legitimate smiles you’ve smiled in too long. It feels good to just drop the veneer and be yourself. You laugh together and feel free together and eat way too much and enjoy all the things you missed most. Then you all retire to the living room in a content stupor and take up your usual positions in front of the Countdown timer on TV. This is it - what you’ve worked hard all year for. The timer ticks down the last remaining seconds. You survey your family one last time before it hits zero.

The people you love most in the world, together sharing this moment. You’re so proud.

Then you notice I’m on your television having some sort of press conference about a machine I invented and you’re surprised to see me on TV, especially since you know I’m not likely to do press conferences. You fumble for the volume on the remote to hear what’s going on. You turn it up, but just a bit, so that you don’t wake up you-know-who. 

[glookie]

Looking back

Yesterday we celebrated my clubs 10th anniversary. It was nice to watch old pictures of my team members and to see how they fenced back in the days. You could really see the development In HEMA during the last decade just by looking at pictures and old videos. It happened a lot during the years I’ve been a member, and that is not particularly long at all – in November I’ve been doing hema for 3 years. Before going to the anniversary party I was thinking about holding a speech, but I didn’t. I wasn’t prepared, the thought crossed my mind a bit too late. That is the reason why I wanted to write this text. So many thoughts came to me, and I feel that it’s important for me to share this thoughts with you.

The first thought that came to my mind was: Where was I ten years ago? I was 19 years old. Had just finished school. I didn’t know what I wanted at all, I had a very hard time seeing the future in front of me. If someone had told med then: Ten years from now, you will be doing martial arts with swords. And! You will be pretty good at it also. Oh my god. I would have laughed them straight in the face. Me? Doing martial arts? No fucking way! With swords? You gotta be kidding me! I am no one, not good at anything. Especially not at martial arts, I can barely take instructions on choreography doing theatre! That what was I was doing at the time, theatre. It took all of my time, rehearsing, rehearsing. That year, 2007, I played a role in Shakespeare’s “A midsummer night’s dream” in the summer.

I’m the one in the back, wearing that multicolored vest 

That was also the year my theatre group started to rent a local that we could have as our own, that was a big step for us. I think I was in three or four plays that year.   The years went on, still was into this theatre making. I loved every minute of it. It was my own bubble, my escape from reality. I had a hard time being a part of the society, I had a hard time finding myself and fitting in. Theatre was the perfect world for me to be in, it was almost like a drug. I never stopped, just wanting more. People still talks about a particular scene I’ve made during 2009, I played a five-year old. Today I have a hard time understanding that I really made all those things. Who would have thought that the shy girl from school could be able to stand on a stage like that? Not me, not anyone. But I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mJ3G7BSluU&t=3s Me playing the five-year old. It’s on Swedish ;)

The thing is, I never had an interest in playing theatre before I started doing it. I came into theatre because of my sister. She had a role in a play 2004, the year after they wanted her in another role. She didn’t want it, they asked me instead since we were related. I thought, sure. Why not? I did it, I got a role as a maiden named Lotta who had a little brother named August. We sang together at the stage. Looking at that video today is loads of fun, I am so tense! I’m saying my lines, but that is also it. What a difference just a few years later, it’s almost like I turned into someone else.

Me in my first play 2005. 

I did a lot of stuff, sure. But I felt lost in an everyday manner. I had friends, was productive and tons of energy. At least it looked that way. I still had days and periods I didn’t feel at home at all. That feeling of not fitting in was always hanging over me, I felt like I was in the way at my parents. Almost like they didn’t want me there at all. I worked at my dad’s friend’s place, washing chicken stables and also helping them picking all the chickens up when it was time for them to go to slaughter. Those days when I got home from washing the stables I was filled with birds spilling all over me. It got stuck in my hair and my clothes. I did this a couple of times in every month. We also helped other farmers sending their chickens to slaughter working night shifts. Not a glamorous job at all. Coming home all tired and covered in dust every time. I worked hard, like I always have. One day I got a phone call from another farmer who needed someone who could wash their stables, they had a pig farm. I went there, washed some of their stables and then I got stuck there for 2 years or so. Swords nowhere to be seen. If you don’t count a pitchfork for a sword ;). Somewhere in between those years my mum kicked me out from home. Leading me to making stupid decisions. I leant my sister’s apartment for a while, I was 21 at this time, felt like shit. I was unaccepted, unwanted and in my own eyes not worth the shoes I was walking in. I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted to get away from everything. I started to chat with a guy over the internet. We decided to meet on a date. And so we did. I’ve met him in the city, Örebro, and I remember I thought: No, not my type. But what the hell, I don’t care. I just want to get out of my situation. We started to see each other more. My lack of self-respect made me start a relationship with this guy, even though I didn’t even like him. I couldn’t get anything better anyhow, I thought to myself. I was way out of line, I had shut myself down. I decided to move to him in Eskilstuna on a very short notice. That wasn’t especially smart of me, but I was in a crisis. So much going on inside of me. Thinking: “Things can’t be worse than they already are”. Never think that way. Things can always be worse. They did. When I moved in I started to notice strange things. For example, I was there and put some clothes there one weekend. The next time I showed up (this was before I actually moved in but still) the TV and the lamp in the bedroom was missing. And some other things to. I asked him: Where are these things? - They are, gone. Me: But, how? A TV can’t just disappear. - It did! I had to push him, he told me after a while that it was his ex who came by to pick her things up. We talked through it, I accepted it. But still thought it was a bit weird.. My guts told me that this was bad shit going on but I held it to my senses. I pushed that feeling away trying to not think about it. A month later he received this message from her, saying that we had to move out. Then I realized that the apartment was hers, not his. God. What a mess. It was me paying the rent and all the bills from my savings. He didn’t do a shit. We moved out. Lived at his friend for a while. I managed to get another apartment. We moved in there. Lived there for a month or so, then he started to act really badly. I’ve seen tendencies to this before, him having this anger issues smashing things into walls, hitting his hand in tables and stuffs for what seemed to be no reason at all. I was always afraid for something to happen. My money started to run out. I was going home for a week to work, just some days before that he became so mad at me for hanging the laundry in the wrong manner. His eyes were all black. I ran into the bedroom when he became aggressive. I closed the door, and I could see the laundry basket that were made out of plastic, coming at the door through the air. I shut the door and heard a bang. I went down behind the bed. Scared as hell, was this the last minutes of my life? He came in. Screaming. Throwing something at me. Went out. I was shaking. I could hear him watching TV. I told myself I had to do something, just anything. I went out in the hall and into the kitchen. I started to make the dishes. I cried. He heard me. Still angry. He yelled: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I couldn’t handle it anymore. I sat down at the floor, managed to crawl in beneath the dishing bench. I sat there in this hole mad for a dishwasher. I never felt so lonely and scared in my entire life. He came out after a while. Calm. He told me in a calm manner: I realized something, we don’t need a laundry basket. I was out of my mind. What the fuck was he saying?! I told him he was a lunatic, he just nod against me. “Yes I know, but we don’t need a laundry basket” Oh my god. This human being was a special kind of human in the bad way. I got home, worked for a week. Hell break loose, he making weird stuff that he couldn’t afford. Being out with his gang, buying them drinks for money he didn’t have. I was pissed. When I finally got home after some troubles along the way (long story). I come into my apartment together with a friend. He is stoned. Starts to yell at us. Getting pissed. He getting those dark eyes again. I can’t really say what happened after that. I know he got out and hit both me and my friend, and that we managed to get him back in the apartment and run away to call the police. I told him to never get back. Never. I moved back to my mum and dad. Lived there for a year or so. Got my own apartment In Hallsberg. After a while I managed to get both a full time job as a personal assistant, I moved to Kristinehamn where I also had a boyfriend. I worked too much, slept too little. I hit that famous wall. Quit my job, started to study in Örebro. Told my boyfriend to get lost since we didn’t worked out so well together. After the first term on the university I got lost, I broke down so much I had a memory loss and started to hallucinate. I only existed one moment at a time, only remember who I was and what connection I had to people. I couldn’t remember things I’ve went through, things that happened were completely gone. I panicked, I freaked out. The time was running away from me, I couldn’t catch it at all. This made me see all the people around me getting old and die in front of me. I saw it, like it was for real. I couldn’t hold myself together. I screamed being so afraid of myself and what was happening to me. Somehow I managed to get through this, without help. I found the source to what was happening to me and dealt with it. I had to accept the fact that we are mortal. I was afraid of dying, and it stressed me out that I couldn’t handle time anymore. That it was running away from me. I found my own way through it and became my own therapist. I got back to school, never had to take a break from it. Then I started to suffer from insomnia. Slept like 2-3 hours per night. I still managed to study though, don’t ask me how but I did. I contacted a friend who helped me with a sleeping program, which helped but it was a hell to get through. I started to sleep normal again. Life became a bit easier. For a while. Through a friend I met this girl who needed somewhere to stay. She had a baby and a dog. I lived in a big apartment that I couldn’t really afford by myself, I let her move in. Of course, with my luck, it was a person with problems. She couldn’t handle her child, calling her 9 months baby an idiot. Yelling at her. Lifting her up and screaming at her when she just wanted food. You name it. I did everything I could to protect this child, I got up and gave her the bottle as soon as I could so the mother wouldn’t be angry at the morning. I took the baby up and walked around with her. She was a very calm child. Didn’t want so much attention. Slept during the nights (when her mother was away atleast) ate, and only wanted attention when she needed food, love or a diaper change. I almost adopted her as my own, when she was with me she was calm. Everytime her mother went away the baby slept early. As soon as the mother got her hand at the door, the child started to scream in panic. It was like this for some months. She lied a lot, it came to me that she had told others that it was her apartment and not mine. And other things. I decided to kick her out. My mum told me that this was the girl who had threatened to kill my bigger sister ten years ago. What the fuck life. What have I done against you? I thought. It felt like I was living in a bad movie. This couldn’t be real. Anyhow, I kicked her out. She was pissed. I didn’t care. I started to live alone. Had a friend that came over every other week, since he worked in the city. Things were starting to get back to normal, again. My dad had been feeling badly for a while. Having a hard time working as normal. One day my mum calls. I got this bad feeling. She tells me dad wants to talk with me. Dad never talked to me in the phone. Never. She hands over the phone. Dad tells me he got diagnosed with ALS. ALS is a disease that cut the nerve signals from your body out. Making you more and more paralyzed. I sat down. Didn’t know how to handle the situation. This big black hole started to fill up my body. Sadness. Frustration. Anger. During this time a friend of mine who I met through larping, tried to pursue me into this fencing shit. At least, I thought it was shit. I thought he talked about sport fencing, and believe me. He had to talk about it for 1,5 years before I actually tried it out. His finals word that made me go there was: We need more tough girls. My mind: Tough girls? I AM ONE! I came by in the middle of a term. Being a bit nervous. What was I getting my ass into? This was in the middle of November 2014. I had to meet a whole bunch of new people who already started in the beginner’s course that term. I felt insecure, had to stand in a corner by myself and a trainer. Feeling dumb and silly. I couldn’t even stand correctly in a stanse. Making a fool of my self. But I got stuck in it. 

Meanwhile my dad got so bad I dropped out of university to work for him as a personal assistant. I helped my dad with stuff that is normal for other people. I had to help him eat, help him to the toilet and so on. In the end he got moved to a home for old people who can’t take care of themselves. I did my best at training. I got new friends there, and bruises. A lot of them. I started to compete just 6-7 months after I started, getting my head into it. My dad got more and more ill. I couldn’t handle it. I got sick from seeing it. The last three months of his life I wasn’t there. I couldn’t anymore, it hurt me so bad seeing my dad becoming a wreck. Not being able to do anything at all, he was shutting down more and more. By that time I was ill myself. Couldn’t go out the door. Most of the days I laid in bed doing nothing at all. Tried to go out, got a panic attack from it. At the worst I had 5-6 panic attacks every day. I was a mess. I didn’t give in though. Every day I went to training. Refusing to give in for anxiety and depression. Some days that was the only thing I managed to do. I got up and got out. How hard it felt, I didn’t care. I got there. That was the only thing that mattered to me. Training, with swords. If it wasn’t for my trainer, Carl, I wouldn’t have continued at all. But somehow he made me got my ass up and go there. Every. Single. Time. Not like he forced me to, but he made me want to go there. No matter how bad I felt. My team members have seen me cry during practice. They have also seen me getting panic attacks both on trainings and on events we’ve been on together. I sometimes wanted to give up, I still feel the same way today. How much can you handle? But I never did. They never gave up on me, especially not Carl. I ain’t going to either, that is the easy way out. But shortcuts making it all much harder in the end. You miss a lot if you take them. Ten years ago I couldn’t imagine myself being where I am today. I even had a hard time imagined myself being 29 years old, life didn’t seem to be for people like me. But here I am. Having a job which I’m good at. Having a lot of experience in acting. Being one of the greatest women in Swedish HEMA fighting (hard to believe, I know. But the facts says so). Last, but the most important; having a big bunch of friends who been following me through those years, they are my family and I love every single one of them. Now I am actually looking forward to the next ten years in life, I didn’t back then. Never give up. xoxo Lotta

[rorybergstrom]

 hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse x

「 timothee chalamet. cismale. 」have you seen rory bergström around yet? i hear he’s decided to be in AUDAX for their JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY major. the 23 year old SHEEP is known to be fanatical, eccentric, nitpicky and dogmatic. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, 23, gmt.

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the Perfect Kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having Nice Parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fIT iN AND HE DIDN’T wANT TO fIT iN. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his Safe Space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden EVEN THO it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

long haired, aesthetic is like… timmy in lady bird n beautiful boy

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[adoubleshotdepresso]

“Just think positive, it’ll be fine”

If I’m feeling generous enough to tell you how I’m really feeling, and you tell me to go get some fresh air and just think positive, please remember I may throw something at your head while cursing you and your whole entire family.

That might be a little extreme, but it’s probably the worst thing you could possibly say to someone who genuinely suffers from clinical depression. If it was as easy as thinking positive thoughts and getting a daily dose of fresh and sun, don’t you think there would be less depressed folk wondering the world? Trust me, I have tried absolutely everything in my power to cure my depressive disorder, but listen, it’s just not that easy.

Over the last decade of being depressed and occasionally anxious, I have tried just about every recommendation out there to help me get through my mental illness. If you’ve come here for a “12 unbelievable habits that cured my depression” type of article, you may as well take your matcha tea and go somewhere else. It took me many years to find what exactly helps my moods, and these things still haven’t cured my depression, but it makes my day to day life a little easier, because no one wants to deal with a constantly crying adult human, that’s not good for anyone.

Before we get into what I have to do every day to maintain a regular life, I think a lot of people still don’t understand what mental disorders are, so I’m going to tell you a brief explanation of mental disorders in the best way I can. Please remember I ain’t no doctor or therapist, and most of the stuff here is what I’ve personally experienced, and mostly what the Internet tells me. Grab a cuppa, and be prepared for some long words and personal opinions.

Fortunately, I don’t tend to suffer from anxiety on a regular basis, which I’m very damn thankful for. Occasionally, and to be honest I don’t know what triggers it, it can be nearly suffocating. Being anxious and being depressed often come hand in hand, like cookies and cream, and you’d be surprised how different both these disorder feels. One is not better than the other, and “what would you choose if you could” is a load of shit. Both are horrible, and both can kill you just as easily. If you want to know more, feel free to keep on reading, or it’s as easy as doing a quick Google search yourself. If you know anyone who suffers from mental illnesses, I would highly recommend doing a bit of study about these topics. It will help you understand what your loved one is going through and may even help them get back on their feet, or make them feel better anyway. We already feel like we’re alone and no one understands us. Just take five minutes of your time, and it could make all the difference in someone else’s lives.

Everyone knows what it feels like to be nervous about something. For me, it’s driving. For others it could be things as getting onto an airplane, public speaking or even large crowds. It may be as something simple as the dark or loud noises. For me, I can’t really tell you what gives me anxiety apart from driving and being in a car with someone I don’t know, but when I’m feeling super depressed, everything makes me damn anxious. “While stress and anxious feelings are a common response to a situation where we feel under pressure, they usually pass once the stressful situation has passed, or ‘stressor’ is removed”, according to beyondblue.com.

According to the same website (beyondblue.com), anxiety is the most common mental health disorder that Australian’s suffer from. Women tend to suffer more, but this doesn’t mean men can’t develop anxiety disorders either. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you eat or what you identify as, anyone can suffer from mental disorders, including high anxiety.  And it could look different from person to person as well, not everyone will show the same symptoms the same way, and not everyone will be able to overcome their anxiety the same way you or I might. Anxiety can voice itself in many different ways, and can start off super subtly, but then can slowly grow into something more obvious.

If you suffer from anxiety disorders, usually the sensation of anxiety or high pressure can stick around for long periods of time, sometimes up to days at a time, and not always connected to a stressful situation, or have any specific triggers. There are heaps of different symptoms, but here are the most common ones that I have suffered from. Having a racing heart and a quick pulse is something I suffer from on a general basis, this may come from too much caffeine, lack of sleep or just being depressed. That’s something I can’t control, and something people can’t physically see. Sometimes, when my heart is racing too fast, it can turn into a full blown panic attack. I’ve only had to experience a couple, and I’ve been lucky in that I have been in a safe place with people I trust.

It begins with a quickening of breathe, and since you’re already super upset and freaking out, the lack of oxygen going to your brain makes you feel groggy and weird. I have been so deep into a panic attack that the only way out of it, was to pass out. I know it’s not super ideal, but it’s the fastest way to regain normal breathing. One time, my anxiety got so bad, I refused to leave my house. I think it lasted something along the lines of three weeks. I felt an overwhelming sort of panic at even the thought of leaving my bedroom, where I knew I was safe, and I was familiar with my surroundings. Even if it was just going to the shops, where I knew what the go was, I still couldn’t handle leaving my house. I can’t explain this happened, and I haven’t experienced since, but it was damn awful.

I remember my first outting. It was to Bunnings. Basically my family and my partner bribed me out of the house, and you know what? It worked. And it wasn’t the worst thing they could have done. I put on some eyebrows, took a shower and went to buy some plants. I wouldn’t recommend blackmailing and bribing your friends to make them get out of bed, but we were starting to get desperate. The best advice I can give you? Just try and remind your friend, or loved one about their passions. And why it’s important to get out of the house. Even if it’s taking them shopping, going to their favourite restaurant or to see a movie. But it was hard, and even though the trip was probably no more than an hour long, I felt like I had just completed a triathlon. I came home, took my makeup off, had a shower and slept for the next 2 days.

That was probably the worst experience I’ve had with anxiety my whole entire life. I’ve always been a pretty outgoing person, and on a regular basis I have always liked meeting new people, and putting myself out there has never been hard. So when I experienced this anxiety attack, it was the weirdest feeling in the world. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I didn’t really know how to help myself out of it.

There’s also a handful of different types of anxiety someone can experience. The most common is probably General Anxiety Disorder, which just means generally, a person can feel anxious or nervous throughout the day for no particular reason, like it’s not caused by a particular event or moment. The next is Social Anxiety, which I think is also pretty common. It’s like having to do your first ever speech in front of a large group of people back in primary school, but worse because you’re not a child, and you’re only going to get bread and milk from the servo. I personally haven’t really experienced this type of anxiety, but I assume it just feels like everyone around you is constantly judging or criticising you when you’re out in public. I know a few people close to me who suffer from this particular disorder, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to just complete day to day chores.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can fall under this category too. I feel very strongly about this particular illness, as I think it can be looked over very easily. People often joke about “Omg I’m so neat I must have OCD”. It’s not something to be joking about. I don’t suffer from the typical OCD, but I have began noticing as I got older some weird things that I do. For instance, I can’t just buy one of something. It’s not so much the crazy cleaning and the constant tidying or counting things, nothing like that. But I do have weird habits that only I’ve began to notice over the last few months. I’m always buying stuff I don’t need, and instead of buying 1 packet of pens, which is all one human would need, I need to buy 4 because who knows, I might really like these types of pens and it’s going to be the worst thing in the world if they run out and I can’t get anymore. Like that’s not normal thinking, and maybe that’s something I need to work on too.

The last type of anxiety I want to briefly talk about, (mostly because I don’t know enough about it, and I don’t want to accidentally insult or upset anyone) is PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Most of you have probably heard of PTSD, either from real life, or in the cinematic universe. PTSD is no joke, and I fear how many people this disorder kills every damn year. This is caused by a traumatic event in life, such as war, assault, disaster or accident. You can experience waves of emotions, such as restlessness, difficulty relaxing and even night terrors. You can experience flashbacks to the traumatic event and constantly be reminded of something you’re trying your hardest to forget.

Now we’ve got the “What is anxiety” out of the way, now to talk about how to treat your disorder. Now, please remember this is just general advice, and I’m speaking just out of experience. I’m only somewhat young, and still have plenty of learning to do myself, so take these words lightly, and don’t start yelling my advice from your rooftop, okay?

I loathe therapy. I can’t think of anything that makes me more mad and uncomfortable than going to see psychologist. I’ve been going to see shrinks for a few years now, and I have hated every second I’ve been in that damn chair. I really hate it. And that’s probably my own problem, because I’m sure it can help other people. It might be because I haven’t been able to find that “connection” with any of my therapists, or the fact that I have a large personality and I’m very opinionated. But if you’re struggling from mental health, I’d highly recommend trying it. I know a whole bunch of people who go and see specialists to help them manage their mental health, and I think if you are able to get that type of help, then do it.  I, personally, just hate it. I’m being ordered to go see one, and even the thought of having to be in those types of offices makes me want to rip my face off.

I don’t want to talk shit about therapists excessively, because I know they can help most people, but just make sure you do you research and find a doctor that suits your needs. Here in Australia, like to see most specialists you have to go and see your general practitioner and get a referral. If you’re applicable, they’ll do this questionnaire test while you’re at the GP’s office, and it will determine how anxious and depressed you are, and if you reach a certain number, then you’ll receive some type of Medicare rebate when you go to see your shrink. I don’t know how it works in other countries, but we are damn blessed here, knowing we have the availability to see psychologist at a reduced cost. Because DAMN they can be expensive.

Let’s be real. The thing that helps me the most is medication. I’ve been medicated for about 14 years now, and don’t see myself being off them probably forever. I know a lot of people out there are afraid of taking medication, and I totally understand. I was just a kid when I was told I needed to take certain medication, but I’m lucky as I come from a medical background, and my mum is a nurse. But if that’s what your doctor recommends, do your research and feel free to talk to people about it. That’s what doctors are there for. I was afraid they would make me become something I’m not, and was afraid I would not be able to feel anything, whether that was happy or uncontrollably sad. It took some trial and error, but I think for now the medication that I take is the right mix for me. Some people can be on just one, which I’m very envious of, but at the moment I currently take three different types of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications. I don’t want to go into detail about the medication, as I am not a doctor or pharmacist, but they do help. Because I take a concoction of tablets, I have to be super careful of something called Serotonin Syndrome, which can make you incredibly sick. I have been lucky, and I monitor my medications and my physical health very carefully.

I understand medication isn’t for everyone, just like therapy isn’t for me. It’s been rough trying to find the right combination that works well for me, and trialling new drugs for your mental health can be exhausting. A few that I have tried have definitely made my moods worse, and that’s the hardest thing to deal with. You think you’ll take this pill and all your bad thoughts will go away, but sometimes that’s not how it works. And that’s okay. If you don’t feel right when taking your new medication, it’s okay to speak about it. No one else knows your body better than you do, and if you feel like something is not quite right, it’s probably not right. In saying that, it is advised you try and hang out for a few months as your body adjusts to the new medication, but if you feel like you’re feeling worse, or you start having suicidal thoughts, please don’t feel like you have to put yourself through that. No doctor (no good doctor) will make you go through that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, to wrap things up, it’s okay to be on medication. You’d be surprised how many people around you have to take medication. I take several just so I can get out of bed every morning. And if you don’t want to tell anyone, then you don’t have to. It’s really no one else’s business what you do with your own body, and as long as you’re safe and consenting, then it’s really no one else’s damn business.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help, you have countless resources available to you, and I promise there is help out there. You just have to find the courage to speak up and tell at least someone if you’re feeling down and depressed. It’s hard enough to deal with mental illnesses, let alone doing it alone.

[peppurthehotone]

Aye-yi-aye! The past couple of days have been r-o-u-g-h! Hormone Rita has been raging but on top of that, I had to acknowledge that while I thought I was “past it”, my no-kid grief still lives in me. Yesterday I described it to Matt that I feel like little pieces of shattered glass live above me and they just hang out there sometimes reflecting light and others times missile down on me and stab me in my happiness.

My therapist told me I’m pretty good at helping myself and last week I mentioned to you all that I use my writing to help myself and that we all need to find something like this to stay high in order to stay afloat when things start to get wonky. So yesterday, I tried to take my own advice and put my head down and I got to work. Two new clients kept me busy (one for speech writing and one for copy editing her marketing book). I am grateful. And I also got back to working on my ancestry book, which was nice.

Alas.

If you’re following along, while during my residency, my goal was to write 30,000 words of my new novella. They didn’t have to be good words, but I thought, I can write 30,000 words in a month. Welp, last Sunday, three days before the end of the residency, I was only at 23,951 words and I freaked out. I started crying. I was in a beautiful home, seated at my own personal desk, in a quiet room with no one to bother me; I had all the things I yearn for and there I was at my computer crying. I knew I was having a form of a panic attack built up from self-imposed pressure exponentially souped up by my Instagram posts touting my daily numbers.

<blockquote class=”instagram-media” data-instgrm-captioned data-instgrm-permalink=”https://www.instagram.com/p/B37655AleEI/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading&#8221; data-instgrm-version=”12″ style=” background:#FFF; border:0; border-radius:3px; box-shadow:0 0 1px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.5),0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.15); margin: 1px; max-width:540px; min-width:326px; padding:0; width:99.375%; width:-webkit-calc(100% – 2px); width:calc(100% – 2px);”>

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</a> <p style=” margin:8px 0 0 0; padding:0 4px;”> <a href=”https://www.instagram.com/p/B37655AleEI/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading” style=” color:#000; font-family:Arial,sans-serif; font-size:14px; font-style:normal; font-weight:normal; line-height:17px; text-decoration:none; word-wrap:break-word;” target=”_blank”>What's Hot? Inspiration! Day 22 Bookcases inspire me. Those writers of the books on those shelves were exactly where I am right now. 15,234 words and wondering what to write next! #writer #residency #ancestry @thesquirefoundation</a></p> <p style=” color:#c9c8cd; font-family:Arial,sans-serif; font-size:14px; line-height:17px; margin-bottom:0; margin-top:8px; overflow:hidden; padding:8px 0 7px; text-align:center; text-overflow:ellipsis; white-space:nowrap;”>A post shared by <a href=”https://www.instagram.com/peppurthehotone/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading” style=” color:#c9c8cd; font-family:Arial,sans-serif; font-size:14px; font-style:normal; font-weight:normal; line-height:17px;” target=”_blank”> Peppur Chambers</a> (@peppurthehotone) on <time style=” font-family:Arial,sans-serif; font-size:14px; line-height:17px;” datetime=”2019-10-22T21:52:50+00:00″>Oct 22, 2019 at 2:52pm PDT</time></p></div></blockquote> //www.instagram.com/embed.js

I was feeling like a failure, even though I knew (this time) that I wasn’t one. So, through the tears, I sent an SOS to my support girls. We are a group of six black women who have been together for almost ten years and we help each other with everything from freak-outs like this one, to motherhood stuff for those on that journey, to job referrals to snarky stuff to  vagina creams. I messaged them:

“Matt says to think about changing the goal so I don’t beat myself up and still feel good. That feels like I’m being a wuss. But I did set the goal, no one else did. Or do I just say I will be happy with whatever I accomplish? I’m getting stressed. Started crying this morning. Not worth it to cry.”

My dear friend Morenike sent an audio clip back with the best advice, which I call, “The Goal is Not The Thing”:

https://blogtoprague.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/audio-from-peppur-chambers-1.wav

After listening to this, more crying ensued which was simply a true release of tension. I felt redirected and I was able to continue! I decided that I would use the remaining time to organize and research and to let that “30k” go. It was THE best thing to do and glad I did because I didn’t allow myself to ruin what had been a wonderful experience. I posed  this picture to remind myself. #Winning

So yesterday, I got back into the story for the first time since being back and I was happy I had my notes to refer to and knew where to start up again. I looked at all the questions I have to answer about character and themes, and I wrote a dope paragraph on fear coming from a father perspective to his daughter, and then I got interrupted and had to do something else. But I realized I’d worked on the book for a good solid hour and that made me happy and I walked around in gratitude for awhile and I felt better emotionally.

Something else that made me feel better yesterday is that I received an early birthday present, sort of. For my birthday this year, which is Friday November 8th (best.day.ever), I made it a *goal* to have a completed draft of Harlem’s Awakening Pt 2. I had sent off my current draft to beta readers on Oct 1 so they could review it during my residency and therefore, when I got back this week, I could work like a beaver and chop away at their changes and voila have a completed draft on my birthday. Once again the goal was a little lofty. Not gonna make it. BUT, I did receive the notes. Yesterday I received great notes back from my reader friend Ruthy who four years ago read my manuscript and was like, “What the heck is this? Please tell me you didn’t send this to anyone.” Which I had and the agent passed and then it took two years to recover from the disappointment and now I’m back! So, Ruthy says this is a much better read and that there are still problems, but much better! My mom is my second reader, I know — family: not the answer — but she is my 1940s expert and her comment was, “Not enough time-period stuff”. So, I have that to work on. And a new author friend, Katherine Ross read a few chapters. I met her while doing a reading earlier this year and her debut book, Black Was Not a Label  just dropped this month (please support!). She commented that the pacing is good, it feels colloquial in places and Magdalena may need some fleshing out. This is all great news; I’ve got work to do on my birthday and that’s what I’ll be doing!

One more “random” thing:

While I was in Santa Barbara, my new friend Sophia (who runs SoFar Sounds SB) told me about this amazing shop on State Street called Random. It is exactly that. A random flea market+vintage shop+bookstore+holy crapoloa I love it store. There are boxes of things like jeans and buttons and kitchen tiles and paintbrushes everywhere. I wandered to the back and found a box of someone’s personal stuff. This happens all the time; people pass away and then their stuff ends up in a world of Random for people like me to find.

Because I’m heavy into researching on Ancestry.com and would love to find anything random on my family, when I found this box full of vintage family photos, I got suuuper excited. As I dug further, I discovered this box most likely belonged to a WWII photographer (or someone who enlisted and was good with a camera). I really hoped that some of his war-time photos would have just even one black person and I could hope that maybe it was someone to whom I belonged. Alas, that wasn’t the case. However, it is the case for someone else. So, for Veteran’s Day on 11/11, I’m going to write a special blog post about the box and show more photos from it in the event that maybe we can find to whom these pictured people belong.

Their patch is for the 100th Infantry Training Division. While this is a staged shot, according to Wiki, they were called into active duty on 15 Nov 1942 and were sent into combat to St Remy France on 1 Nov 1944.

Family Day?? I love the ladies in the background.

Ann Caudiff (?), 25 mos, Dec 25, ’51

I love this photo. I’ve begun to research this “Ann” to see what I can find. So along with the Chambers family, Nigeria and Igbo culture,  I’m now researching a bunch of people I don’t know.

    Aye-yi-aye! The past couple of days have been r-o-u-g-h! Hormone Rita has been raging but on top of that, I had to acknowledge that while I thought I was "past it", my…

[rorybergstrom]

   hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. hitting u with a longhaired n musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse x

GENDERQUEER / DEMI-BOY — ever hear people say RORY BERGSTRÖM looks a lot like TIMOTHEE CHALAMET? I think HE / THEY is about 23, so it doesn’t really work. The MUSIC TECHNOLOGY major is a JUNIOR that is from PECKHAM, SOUTH LONDON. They can be +ECCENTRIC, but they can also be -DOGMATIC. I think ROBERG might be SHEEP. They are living in MANON. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the Perfect Kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having Nice Parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fIT iN AND HE DIDN’T wANT TO fIT iN. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his Safe Space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they doesn’t feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden EVEN THO it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspcious of the gifford tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

long haired, aesthetic is like… timmy in lady bird n beautiful boy

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[rorybergstrom]

    hello, it’s nora again…. hitting u with another child. this one is more rough around the edges in therms of development, cos he is brand spanking new for lockwood. a longhaired softboi who deserves tenderness. has a burner phone and doesn’t use social media. help me mould them into a fleshed out member of the human race with love and tender kisses. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board x

application.

( demi-boy ) haven’t seen RORY BERGSTRÖM around in a while. the TIMOTHEE CHALAMET lookalike has been known to be ECCENTRIC & METHODICAL, but HE / THEY can also be HESITANT & DOGMATIC. The 23 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in MUSIC TECHNOLOGY. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. 

aesthetics. 

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards. 

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

never spoke to her but had an unrequited crush on her. morally conflicted and didn’t want to select a name. probably had a chidi-from-the-good-palce-esque meltdown and eventually closed his eyes and selected randomly so he probs doesn’t know who he picked.

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the Perfect Kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having Nice Parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fIT iN AND HE DIDN’T wANT TO fIT iN. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his Safe Space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they doesn’t feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden EVEN THO it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspcious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. had cannabis plants growing in brifghton but basically lost most of it in the fire. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

long haired, aesthetic is like... timmy in lady bird n beautiful boy

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights. 

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory... has never hooked up with anyone... i feel like a deer in the headlights of love....... so give me 

study buddies, 

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it, 

people who love all kinds of music, 

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for, 

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth), 

unrequited crushes!! 

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

 people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol