#patchy talks about internet drama

[patchymoon]

yes to doompost i am going to get mad at holo production again

not only is vesper on a 2 week suspension but now magni has a back injury leaving only 2 members of holostars EN fully able to stream which is definitely not looking good for holostars here giving the track record for both situations with holopro as a whole

honestly makes me think that its pretty much a miracle that holoID successfully went a whole year or so with only 3 members

what im saying is

1. if worst case scenerio happens cover corp will look REALLY bad (as if they havent looked bad enough already) if half of one division is gone not even half a year into existence and

2. agencies are too scared to have bigger phases/gens/whatever the fuck they want to call it at this point though how i see it a gen with only 3-4 members at the start is very risky esp since everything goes south if even 1 person decides to leave/is terminated and 5 member starting gens should be more common

tl;dr if you remove one leg from a 3 or 4 legged table it will collapse

[tiramisu-su]

New beginnings

Likely no one will ever come across this Tumblr and that's okay. I'm starting a new journey for myself, and If I'm ever ready to share it- well, hopefully someone will be interested! This will just be a blog/diary for my day-to-day thoughts, feelings, and happenings. By me. For me. I am quitting social media. Well, in a sense. I will not be active on Instagram, and have deleted the app. I have Facebook messenger to talk to my family. Lastly, I have VSCO where I just post my photography. I am really not going to be using social media at all. I have this blog to post my thoughts without judgment from anyone I know, and I won't be mindlessly scrolling, comparing, being sad etc. I don't want to interact with or be exposed to what social media has to offer. I need a break. I need a cleanse. Social media is what everyone wants you to believe of their life. None of it is true. I am sick of mindlessly scrolling through photos, and posting my own at that. I want to be more present. I want to heal from the things I've been hiding from, a lot of that being my past, and some things are from my present as well.

I will say, I know social media has its perks, positives, and what not, however, to say that it can't be addicting, toxic and negative is a lie.

Negatives I have experienced: 1. Lowered self esteem 2. Wasting time that could be spent bettering myself 3. Comparing myself to false "realities" and people. Why is it so important to be pretty anyways? Truly its what's inside that matters, and if anyone treats you differently because of that, they don't deserve your time. Everyone fabricates a perfect life because that's how they want to be seen. You have every right to show what you want to on social media, be transparent or don't. There's pros and cons to both I guess? I just know that I shouldn't believe that someones grass is greener just because they are showing an immaculate 1x1 patch of their lawn. What about the rest of your lawn? It's fucked and patchy in spots, just like everyone else's. 4. Becoming bitter to the world and thinking it's mostly bad and full of mostly mean, ill-intentioned people. This is NOT true and I realized this when I went outside again recently. (The joys of nature and its effects on people) I was generalizing people to all be unkind and self centred. I was losing hope in humanity seeing how cruel some people could be. 5. Silencing myself to avoid backlash for having ANY type of opinion on ANYTHING 6. To echo #5, not being able to be my weird authentic self (not trying to be quirky I really do have a fucked sense of humour)- plus why would I want that on the internet anyways? 7. Seeking validation from others (yikes) 8. Self-pity and feeling victimized (I am not a victim. I am a human with lots of growth to do!) 9. TOXIC. People can say and do whatever they want on the internet and be able to hide. Sometimes the toxic behaviour is more subtle. All I know is, bullying and other awful things are always happening in plain view and behind the scenes. Some people just really love drama. 10. Being watched. Whatever you put out there, people are seeing it, they are judging and criticizing it, they are sharing it with their friends, you could have stalkers, or people that keep tabs on you, the list goes on and on. I don't want people to have that kind of ammunition against me. I know I have the power not to share, to be quiet, to engage silently, however, I just don't want any part of it anymore! I don't want to see or be seen. Positives: 1. A sense of community and belonging 2. Communicating with old friends and really nice and supportive people Maybe I'll add to this list if I think of anything else but that's literally all I have right now.

I officially quit June 12th, 2022. I hope to use this blog to chronicle my days, as well as my baking and birding journeys.

[itallcomesdown]

Cloud 9s

The waves, ever so gently colliding into one another as they collapsed onto the beach, provided the perfect soundtrack to Nicky's breakdown.

Not too loud, not too harsh.

Soft and low like the tears running down her cheeks.

This wasn't Nicky’s first time weeping at the edge of the ocean. In fact, she was well into the double digits at this point and likely to hit triple before she closed out her third decade.

The first time she made the short drive to the shore for the express purpose of crying, she'd felt a little ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her bedroom but something drew her to the drama of grey skies and sea breezes.

That's one of the perks of living by the water, depressive episodes seem more cinematic.

Today's helping of woe was served up by a call from her mother which, if you read a transcript, should have been totally normal but was, as always, specifically designed to destroy her.

"Darling."

Nicky cringed but replied sweetly. She could only hope to survive by mirroring her mother's tone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear from you. Your father and I do worry so much."

The first blow.

What was there to worry about? Her parents had checked in with her twice a week, every week, for years and Nicky had never shared even a passing comment that would indicate she was anything other than perfectly happy.

Now, was she? No, of course not. She was regularly crying by herself at the beach, but her parents didn't know that. Nobody knew that.

Nicky gave the verbal equivalent of a hand wave as a response. Life was all sunshine.

"Are you sure? You don't sound well."

She sounded the same as she had sounded the last time her mother had insisted that she'd sounded unwell. The same as all the times her mother had insisted she’d sounded unwell which was every time they spoke.

Another spoken hand wave. The salty air was in her throat, nothing more.

"I did say when you decided to move up there that the sea air would be bad for your lungs."

Lungs! How had this become about lungs? Last time it was "something something, microscopic sand particles are lacerating your vocal chords".

Nicky couldn't get the image of sliced, white bands out of her dreams for a week.

"You need to see someone or it will get worse. I'll speak to Dr Kline and see if she knows anyone you can go to down there."

Why?! From 16 words spoken over a patchy internet connection, her mother had decided that intervention was necessary.

Nicky’s chest tightened as she made a mental note to avoid clearing her throat for the rest of the call lest it fan the flames in her mother's mind. She kept her voice even in her response but made sure to not attempt firmness as she insisted that she was fine. Resistance only strengthened her mother's resolve.

"Jerry, remind me give Marsha a call tomorrow about Nicky's lungs."

Nicky imagined her father, somewhere off camera, giving a silent thumbs up to his wife.

Marsha Kline was not a doctor of medicine. She was a wonderful woman and a very accomplished professor of art history who had been friends with Nicky’s mother for longer than Nicky had been alive. Dr Kline was also very convinced that western medicine was a death cult and any medication not administered in tea form was bad for you.

"Don't roll your eyes, Nicky. I'm only doing my job as your mother. Someone has to look after you."

Blow 5?

The subtle difference between "out for" and "after" in a sentence like that would go unnoticed by most, but Nicky had been playing this game with her mother for all of time. Her mother used "out for" when referring to all adults except Nicky.

Now, you might think that's totally reasonable. Mother's always look after their children and that doesn't mean the semantic difference is some kind of dig. Except Nicky was the oldest of three children and the only one who her mother felt needed looking after.

"You did roll them, Nicky. I'm not going to argue, but you did. I used to be able to hear it in your voice over the phone but now that we are on Soom I can see it."

Nicky bit her tongue and tried to keep her jaw relaxed.

Where had the call gone wrong this time?

She should have suggested the call to Dr Kline herself. That way her mother wouldn't have been primed to fight about it.

At least this time she let "Soom" slide.

"Anyway, your sister and I had a lovely chat yesterday. The boys are doing great, she and Pat are looking really lean with the marathon coming up. Have you spoken to her?"

Marriage, children, weight. The self-esteem trifecta, all in one beautifully benign sentence. Nicky almost admired the efficiency.

Claire should have been born first. She was third in birth order but seemed to have decided from an early age to reach every available milestone before Nicky could make a meaningful attempt.

"You really should talk to her more. And James. Both of them really worry about you."

At this point, Nicky had accepted that she would be going to the beach as soon as the call was over. Why waste a day or two trying to hold it together when all she would be thinking about is the family meeting she hadn't been invited to where everyone did the sad head tilt as they talked about her.

"James is always saying he's happy to have you if you need somewhere to stay."

Somewhere to stay.

Nicky had a perfectly lovely apartment with her own office, a parking space and a gorgeous view but because she didn't have a mortgage, her family talked about her as if she was homeless.

"It doesn't have to be long term. Just until you're on your feet"

Would this be after her newly signed 2-year lease or would James buy that out for her?

"I'm sure he could afford it."

He probably could.

"You don't have to. I'm just putting it out there so you don't feel stuck and alone."

If Nicky had to pick a title for her autobiography, it would be "Stuck and Alone". Even at work where everyone was different from each other, she felt completely out of place. Like a puzzle piece you jam into the wrong section because it looks like it should work but when you take it in as part of the picture, something's off.

"You said you would think about it last time. I know you, you're stubborn but now is not the time for stubbornness. People are trying to help you."

The hardest part about these calls would always be having to defend her contentment when it seemed like everyone else thought she was drowning. Nicky wasn't sad about the life she had built for herself. She was sad that it seemed too small and pathetic for those she loved.

"Just call your siblings. If you've lost their numbers, I'll send them to you. Jerry, remind me to send Nicky the numbers."

Nicky sometimes distracted herself by imagining her father as a sort of humanoid smart speaker with steely mesh for skin, warm glowing eyes and a permanently erect thumb that shone green when a command had been accepted.

The speaker was called Greymax and it always made Nicky smile.

"What's funny? I know you think I'm a silly old woman so you might as well let your laugh out."

Nicky exaggerated her eye roll and sighed. It broke the tension and they both chuckled a bit but they probably couldn't tell you why. Sadness lingered behind both smiles.

"Anyway, nothing to report on this side since our last chat so I'll let you go. I'm sure you have lots of work to do for your fancy new show."

Nicky performed pleasantries with her cheek between her teeth.

It took her less than twelve minutes to reach her usual spot from the end of the call, a personal best, and less than twenty seconds to achieve full body sobs, another personal best.

The actual crying wasn't particularly intense on this occasion. Hard crying just added physical hurt to the emotional despair.

One time, she had attracted the attention of a couple of youths on what looked like a first date. They were shy and gentle but visibly concerned. Nicky was mortified.

From then on she sat in a partially enclosed opening on the side of a sheer rock face and avoided excessive wailing. Sometimes she'd get a curious bird or a tiny crustacean but, for the most part, human contact had been limited to surprised stares.

The time on her phone told her that she had been out there for twenty minutes. That was more than enough for one day and should tide her over until the following week if everything stayed calm at work.

Nicky imagined herself, in another universe, choosing to jog through her inner anguish. Smartphone strapped to her upper arm, smartwatch keeping track of her movements and bluetooth earphones delivering alternate universe pop into her ears. Was that worth a try?

Imagination Nicky was exactly as good at her job and bad at relationships, she just had a comfortable pair of running shoes. That was totally attainable but Real Nicky had always resisted. Crying sucked but it was cleansing and felt natural. Running felt like someone else's thing that she was putting on to prove a point.

When Nicky got back home, she ordered an inexpensive but well reviewed pair of running shoes. The product description painted a vivid picture of how impossibly soft these shoes were, at a fraction of the price charged by other brands. Confirmed buyers wrote formulaically about never needing another shoe again and buying pairs for friends. Nicky never read any of that though because she chose them exclusively for the price and availability for next day delivery.

The shoes arrived but remained in their box for days. Nicky passed them every time she entered her bedroom, making a mental note to try them on, even if only to check the fit, but quickly forgot.

Her mother's next call came and went without incident. A neighbour had to be hospitalised and their pet's needed a temporary home so the entire call was consumed by intro to the pup and solemn predictions regarding the neighbours fate. The prognosis was pretty good but Nicky's mother was certain big pharma was gunning for him. Dr Kline had been consulted, of course.

Teas had been ordered and special instructions repeated in hushed tones but the call was fine. 

Nicky was fine.

Usually, the down time between calls was a safe zone where Nicky could stock up on the mundane joys of life but the shoes had been ordered so the universe needed to make sure they were used.

James sent a picture to the group chat. Two little lines on a white stick. Congratulations all around. Wonderful news!

That evening the phone rang.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to move into a bigger house so there is room for you and  the baby but Ryan is acting as if I've gone crazy. Can you believe it?"

Nicky finally got to the beach after an hour and a bit. Turns out the shoes really were baby clouds with laces, but it's hard to run when your chest is heaving.

Next time she would have to drive to the beach, then cry while running. 

Fewer witnesses and, again, more cinematic.