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tryst-art-archive · 2 years

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October 2012: "Please Take My Card Away"

Every so often, I come into some money and get a little reckless. The amount of money varies, ranging anywhere from one hundred and fifty dollars to three hundred dollars. Admittedly, those are still pretty pitiful sums in the scheme of things, but they’re not chump change either. Whatever the precise amount, it’s usually a larger sum than I’ve had sitting in my wallet or lounging in my checking account for a long time, and magically one hundred and fifty dollars transforms from two weeks of hard work or three potential trips to the grocery store into enough money to buy four or five of the Nice Things I’ve had my eye on for the past few months. My logical mind always knows that what I’m holding is Practical Money—just enough for things like bills and food and T passes—but somehow I’ll manage to forget that factoid and start seeing my newfound wealth as Riches—plenty for food and bills and T passes and socks and shoes and video games and decorations and artists’ works and movie tickets and fancy dinners and tasty snacks and clothes and books and music and so forth and so on. The end result is invariably two weeks to a month in which, while waiting on the arrival of three pairs of five-dollar striped socks and a copy of Spec Ops: The Line, I don’t eat a whole lot, but when I do it’s at Elephant & Castle and I insist on paying for my companion.

One such occasion arrived with the first semester of my senior year of college. I had spent the summer in the role of [Company Name Redacted]’s design intern—a peculiar unpaid position which left me both blindingly certain that I needed to get out of school in order to be happy and equally convinced that perhaps, maybe, my life plan wasn’t going to hold up—and had, as a result, only managed to scrape by through the generosity of my family and the sturdiness of my savings account, now sadly depleted. The return of school brought with it the return of my job—I’d been working in [college]’s print shop and mailroom since the day I’d come to the school and though I only make around minimum wage, I’ve given over the majority of my weekday free time to [Different Company Name Redacted], resulting in cold hard cash—and thus the return of a stable income. I’d arranged to work twenty-four hours per week which, with paychecks coming biweekly, worked out to a little over three hundred dollars per pay period. After three long months of nothing but the basics, that first three hundred dollar check looked like a fortune, and I immediately, unconsciously, sought out something to splurge on.

PAX East—a Boston-based video game convention run by the creators of webcomic Penny Arcade—has been a staple of my year since it first took place in March of 2010. It’s expanded rapidly over its short life, being forced to move from the Hynes Convention Center after the first year to the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center for the second year and now PAX East 2013 has sold out of three-day passes within one day of those passes going up for sale, surprising its creators who, like so many others, foolishly believed there was little to know [sic] interest for “that sort of thing” out here on the east coast. Silly boys.

I went to PAX East 2010 first because the notion of a three-day event entirely about video games excited me unspeakably and secondly because I’d never been to anything remotely like a convention before and I rather suspected I’d enjoy it. I was entirely right; I loved the experience to death, even the boring parts, even though I went that year with a boyfriend who would be a hated ex in a mere month, even though I was in the worst phase of an eight-year depression at the time. I adored the exhibit halls where one could preview recently or soon-to-be released games and buy Chessex dice for your favorite table-top roleplaying game. There were tables for trying out every board game, card game, and pen-and-paper roleplaying game one could think of; there were tournaments for fans of Magic: The Gathering and contests for the best-dressed cosplayers (folks dressed in elaborate, detailed costumes of their favorite video game characters) and an overwhelming swath of free giveaways, including the massive swag bag guests received for simply walking in the door. PAX East boasted a huge array of panels from industry professionals and celebrities both in the digital and analog gaming communities, for those interested in discussion, and there were rooms of arcade cabinets, PlayStations, Xboxes, and PCs where one could borrow any game they wished for an hour. An entire hallway was cordoned off and filled with massive bean bag chairs so that people could sit with their handheld systems and play games with these stranger-brethren who gathered to PAX East with them. At night, musical artists like Metroid Metal, the Video Game Orchestra, and Jonathan Coulton provided concerts for PAX East’s guests, and throughout the whole convention one massive competition—the OmegaThon—was held to determine who was the all around best gamer at PAX that year. The concerts were almost a spiritual experience for me—I am not religious, but something about standing there watching an orchestra play an array of songs that not only meant an entire childhood to me but to all of the hundreds of people standing and sitting with me resonated in the way I imagine church resonates for the religious—and I loved the panelists for intellect. The cosplayers had my admiration for their skill, the bravery I thought it must take to put on that costume and pretend to be that character for no other reason than frivolous passion, and the sheer joy on their faces. I spent something like two hundred dollars, not counting ticket price, that first year, forty of which was solely on dice, and I came away with the absolute knowledge that I would attend PAX East for every year that I lived even remotely near Boston and that one day, I, too, would cosplay.

I did not cosplay at PAX East 2011, though I spent most of the autumn leading up to it thinking I’d don a Team Fortress 2 costume—a Scout or an Engineer. I simply never got around to constructing it; I am dreadfully lazy. For PAX East 2012, I managed to throw together a generic fantasy costume from odds and ends around my apartment—I’ve owned a purple cloak for at least six years and a pale green corset for perhaps two and these, in combination with alternately a beach wrap from 2002 or a long, rust skirt from my Irene Adler Halloween costume of 2011 worked out to something resembling a mysterious elf lady from a fantasy painting who was really risking her skin on the BCEC’s many escalators—but it wasn’t a character from anything in particular; it was a costume, not a cosplay. Perhaps it is no surprise then that when I found myself with three hundred dollars and PAX East 2013 six months away, I decided that I would create a cosplay costume; I would be Chell, the protagonist from Valve’s beloved video games Portal and Portal 2.

I began the search at work in the mailroom one day. It was a slow day with few customers and very little mail to sort, and I was bored. I did not, initially, think that I would put together a cosplay in a serious fashion. I merely wondered how easy it would be; was it possible? I had recently purchased a white tank top from ThinkGeek with the logo of the game’s fictional research laboratory, Aperture Science, emblazoned on the front. I knew the Portal 2 model of Chell well enough to know I needed about four to five more pieces to have her full look. What if it was easy? What if I could be Chell?

I decided to search out the little things first. She wore a dark gray pants-like something under a cerulean tanktop, white tank top, and orange jumpsuit. The jumpsuit, in the Portal 2 model, was unzipped and tied at her waist. She also wore Long Fall Boots—fictional footwear that enables its wearer to fall for any distance and fail to completely decimate their legs upon landing—and carried a Portal Gun—an equally fictional, vaguely gun-shaped device for creating two linked portals which defy space, enabling a person to move between them regardless of any intervene distance, gravity, or logic—and wore her hair in a ponytail. There were white bandages around one of her wrists.

I spent some time staring at various images and renderings of Chell before deciding that the gray, pants-like something was going to have to be spandex shorts. I remained undecided as to what, exactly, the gray, sheer swatch at her midriff was meant to represent, but I figured spandex or athletic shorts would get the point across just fine. As I mentioned before, I am terribly lazy, and so I don’t own anything even remotely akin to athletic wear, nor do I know where one goes to buy such things. I polled my coworkers on the subject, but they weren’t much help, so I decided to go with general clothing stores. I subsequently spent some time on the websites of GAP, Old Navy, Kohl’s, Target, Sears, and Macy’s. None of these turned up results I particularly liked, and certainly not in the shade or size I wanted or needed (I have a very large bum; clothing companies do not cater to people whose bum is twice as large, proportionally, as the rest of them). So I turned to eBay, scummy savior of us all, and wound up purchasing a pair of dark gray spandex shorts—“One Size Fits All,” it said, and I laughed, thinking how quickly my bum would destroy those shorts. The answer turned out to be a single wearing. Not the moment I put them on, quite, but near enough to; they now have a lovely seam along the butt crack that certainly wasn’t there before, but it’s not visible when I have the jumpsuit on.

At this juncture it became apparent that I was actually going to do it; I was going to make the costume. I immediately set about finding the cerulean tank top to go underneath my white Aperture Science one. This took an absurdly long time, though I searched many of the same places I had for the shorts, and for many of the same reasons. Shirt sizes, fortunately, are not a problem for me—I am almost always a Small, regardless of brand, though if the style calls for cleavage and low necklines, then I either need an extra-small or, more likely, probably just can’t wear it at all—and that was not the trouble here. No, the trouble was the particular shade of cerulean. Oh, there were plenty of light blue athletic tank tops out there, but none of them quite matched the light sky blue with the subtlest hint of yellow that Chell’s tiny scrap of visible under shirt displayed. I think I spent something like two hours trying to find the perfect shirt; it was certainly more time than I’d spent on the pants. In the end, I wound up giving target thirty dollars for a pretty ugly athletic tank in a nerve-wracking extra small. It was the closest match to the color that I could find, though everything else about it displeased me and shelling out thirty bucks chafed. When it finally arrived—I ordered it online; I couldn’t be bothered to try and get myself to a physical Target, not without a car—it turned out that the built-in sports bra was tight enough to restrict my breathing. “Oh well,” I thought. “I paid thirty dollars for it; I’m going to wear it.” (I never return things; I don’t like being an inconvenience to anyone but myself.)

I figured the bandages would be easily obtained at the Chinatown CVS, and they did turn out to be, and I already had the haircut for Chell’s ponytail. That left the three distinctive items—the orange jumpsuit which had, on closer inspection of images of Chell, a number of fine details; the Portal Gun which I could either buy an over-priced replica of or I could make; and the Long Fall Boots that I would have to make, no matter what. It was several days before I decided what to do about any of these items. The cheapest Portal Gun replica was one hundred dollars on ThinkGeek and sold out until December; there were a number of orange jumpsuits and coveralls to choose from but half of them were low-quality “prisoner” Halloween costumes and the other half were proper, working man’s coveralls only ever available in men’s sizes and typically costing a minimum of forty dollars. There was also a replica of Chell’s very specific jumpsuit available for one hundred dollars, but it wouldn’t be released until October 15th. As to the Long Fall Boots, making them was a daunting prospect. The in-game boots were heelless with a metal strut extending from the back of the calf to the floor that took Chell’s weight, her foot arched as though she wore a high heel. The black-and-white boots also had a massive open section at the shin and were, apparently, held on by straps there; the whole boot needed to stop just short of the knee and had a handful of black designs to be accounted for.

I do not sew, and I do not know how to operate a lathe. I also was getting three hundred dollars every two weeks and, following a painful and on-going break up, found that my living expenses and, particularly, food bill had dropped to a mere fifty bucks. I didn’t go out much, without the gentleman caller, and when I did it was to see my gaming group; I didn’t eat much, because my response to break ups is to unintentionally starve myself, and when I did I ate poorly and certainly not at restaurants or via Foodler; my rent and bills all amounted to very little compared with my previous lease, and so I knew I could have those well in hand. In short: I had disposable income, and I knew it. I did not sew; I did not know how to operate a lathe; I did not want to cut PVC or sand foam blocks into round shapes or figure out how to wire LEDs; I was and am terribly lazy: I dropped the hundred for the replica of Chell’s jumpsuit when it was released on the 15th, and I made mental plans to drop another hundred on the Portal Gun in December. In the meantime, a twenty dollar plush Companion Cube—another distinctive prop from the game—would suffice as a prop for the cosplay. Sufficient for Halloween at least. I can’t tell you how the Portal Gun will turn out, as at the time of writing, I haven’t bought it, but I can say that the Companion Cube turned out to be the perfect pillow for watching TV while laying on the couch and the jumpsuit ripped along the seam in the crotch as soon as I pulled it on (I must have a large, invisible penis) and is currently awaiting repairs from my roommate, who does sew.

Thus there were the boots; the things I had to make. I’d already lost at least two hundred and sixty dollars to the costume, not counting shipping. I couldn’t stop now, buyer’s remorse or no buyer’s remorse. I spent some time looking at what other cosplayers had made: there were modified Go-Go boots up the wazoo; there were a few examples of heelless fashion shoes converted through clever plaster work into Long Fall Boots; two people had actually done the amazing and made honest-to-god Long Fall Boots from scratch by sawing the heel of some high heel boots and milling aluminum to create a sturdy strut. These last were absolutely stunning in their craftsmanship and their accuracy to detail, but they weren’t up for sale, and I’m no more comfortable with power tools than sewing. I decided to go the Go-Go boot route.

Finding the right boots took some long hours of searching; I used the search term “Go-Go boots” because it most nearly fitted what I needed—white, knee-high pleather boots with a small platform and a tall heel. I wasn’t concerned about walking around a convention hall in three to four inch heels, as I wear heels every day and have done so since January 2011, if I’m not mistaken, but I was concerned about finding a style of heel that wouldn’t draw the eye. Most Go-Go boots, it turns out, have chunky, vaguely hourglass-shaped heels. Aside from being ugly and painfully sixties, this kind of heel wasn’t going to fade from sight after I painted them black—photos from cosplayers who had used this kind of boot proved that. No, what I needed was a stiletto, and it took two days before I found one I felt satisfied with through a long chain of store-hopping and modifying search terms. I risked the shoe size on an eight wide—like my bum size, my shoe size does not conform to fashion or factory standards; designers do not make high heels for people with wide feet, particularly not when those people should rightly be a seven or seven and a half in length—figuring that if it was too big I could wear multiple socks and trust to the boot shape to keep the damn things on. The size turned out to be almost perfect—lucky break—and I spent a couple more days staring at the untouched, white boots before I considered getting to work on them. The first step, I knew, was to cut out the front and create straps. I was terrified; what if I messed up? I’d have to buy new boots, and buying them and the supplies to modify them had easily brought the costume’s total cost over three hundred dollars. At this point, I was going to have to wear the stupid thing for every costume-able event for the next three years just to make the whole endeavor worthwhile; it was a damn good thing I counted Portal among my favorite games.

Finally, after much fretting, I sat in my living room with two of my roommates and my ex–gentleman caller. One of my roommates was gluing coyote fur to himself—he goes to art school and considers himself a therian (if you happen to know what that means), so this is par for the course in my day-to-day life—while the other, his lesbian girlfriend, made some felted birds for a set of commissions my mother had handed to her—the commissions were all from moms, grandmoms, and aunts—and my ex–gentleman caller was trying to improve my white-blue, defensive Magic deck that I couldn’t be bothered to make myself. I explained my nervousness over the cutting of the boots, drew moral support from my three literally and metaphorically closest companions, and set to work. I made cardstock templates for the cuts I would make and cardstock templates for the areas I would paint. I taped my cutting template to the boots with painter’s tape and started cutting. The first came out beautifully; the second I cut too far at one point and had to use a combination of duct tape and krazy glue to mask the massive horizontal slit in the boot. I use cyan dry erase marker to denote where the buckles—actually one-inch silver D rings I’d gotten at Joanne Fabrics—for the straps would go and made slits along those lines. I inserted the D rings and folded over a quarter inch of the edge of my cut and used about four packets of Krazy Glue to make the fold and the D rings permanent—I don’t sew, remember. I wound up with a shell of Krazy Glue over my finger tips because there is no easy or safe way to deal with Krazy Glue and so spent most of the drying time trying to scrape the little caps off. The following day, that one roommate attached a coyote’s tail to his butt, over his jock strap and using a binder of Pokemon cards as a weight to make sure the pressure on the silicone glue was strong, and meanwhile I threaded double-sided Velcro straps through my boots’ buckles, pulling them on and measuring out precise lengths so that the straps would have enough leeway to be adjustable at need but wouldn’t extend beyond the area of the cut out. I took the boots off and applied my cardstock stencils and painted high gloss, black acrylic paint onto the boots, creating a black toe, turning the platform black, coloring most of the heel and all of the stiletto black, and adding a swoosh to the outward-facing side of the boot. This took two coats and resulted in a number of missteps and smudges that I later had to obtain some Titanium White acrylic paint to cover up. I spent maybe four days on the painting, all told, adding numerous layers of both colors to ensure consistency in both hue and texture, buying a tiny professional paintbrush so as to refine the edges of the areas I’d painted black.

While the paint dried, I took a black, light aluminum, double-sided wreath hanger and had one of my roommates, a jeweler, saw it in half, giving me to gentle aluminum hooks. I filed the rough edge of the cut away and used my hands and a pair of pliers wrapped in scrap leather to bend these hooks into the shape of the Long Fall Boots’ struts. Half of the struts conformed to the back of the boots’ and my calves, while the rest bent outward in a gentle curve before coming back in toward the boots’ stiletto heels. I glue black foam and black felt to the bottom of the struts to prevent them from scratching floors, and then I used several packs of Krazy Glue to adhere the struts to the boots. This, it turned out, was the most nerve-wracking moment. I had thought that cutting out part of the boots was terrifying—what if I destroyed them? rendered them unusable?—but this was far worse. If I messed this up, not only would I be destroying the boots, but I would be wasting what had come out to about three weeks of on-and-off hard work to make these things look just right. These boots had been keeping me sane, through the senior year of college I did not want to have not because I didn’t want to graduate but because I had never wanted to go to college in the first place, because I only attended out of a perceived obligation to, because I suddenly understood those previously inexplicable students who dropped out in their final year of college or high school even though the beneficial, degreed end was around the corner; through the break up with a gentleman caller whom represented everything I had ever looked for in a friend, in a lover, in a partner, in a future but whom did not or perhaps could not return the feeling, could only care for me as a friend—oh, a good friend, indeed—and even as an object of desire but never as a romantic partner, never as someone to honest-to-god love; through the suicide attempt of a close high school friend who chose me, out of all the people in the world, to confide in, who, predisposed to anxiety and depression, had been finally and utterly decimated by the unintentional emotional abuse present in a relationship I had suggest she enter into with my best friend. Here were those boots, and if I did not attach the struts correctly, I would have ruined them, and I would have to start all over—I didn’t need that right then.

I attached the struts, and I used scrap pleather from that first hesitant cutting to create a little pouch over the top of the struts so that they’d be a bit more secure in place and would be less likely to stab me in the back of the knee, should I kneel while wearing the Long Fall Boots. I gave them a coat of high gloss black to disguise the glue’s dandruff, and I left them to dry. After several days, the struts still held, and the fabric of the boots did not tear under their weight. Several friends of both myself and my roommates saw the boots and declared them lovely; I myself was utterly pleased with them. Oh, there were some errors, to be sure—the swooshes in particular had been problematic, causing me to go over some rather extensive areas with mistake-hiding white, and there was that slit from my cutting error, and one of the struts was hanging ever so slightly askew, and I wound up having to put a felt liner along the edges of my pleather folds to keep the Krazy Glue there from chafing, and at one point one of the D rings popped out when I pulled on a strap too hard, putting the boots on, so that I had to glue it back in—but most of those errors were only visible up close; at PAX East, no one would be getting that close; from where they would be, in the lighting they’d be photographing (people always photograph the cosplayers) in, those errors would be virtually unnoticeable. I had a workable, aesthetic product, and I’d made them with my own two hands, through some tiny miracle, in the midst of two months of pain and disaster.

I set the boots on my unkempt floor, beside my bookshelf, and I put away the other pieces of the costume in my red file cabinet with my other, miscellaneous costume pieces, and I began looking forward to Halloween when I would wear the costume for twelve hours, throughout my work and school day—it would be the durability test, and by god, if anything was going to break, it was not going to be my boots.

#old writing #writing archive #nonfiction #personal essay #prose #the more of these i read the more distressed i become #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH #assignments #college #relationships #money #credit card #making things #cosplay #you will see the cosplay #10s #2012 #Age 21

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skywitchmaja · 2 years

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i learned that you can join the thieves guild without framing brand-shei and i am so mad at myself :-(

#fucking brynjolf said he was only gonna be in jail for a few days— i would’ve gotten more creative with it if i knew i was dooming this man #to a life sentence! but i’m already a nightingale so too deep to go back this play through ugh #that & the thing with keerava & talen-jei ugh i hate this i wish there was a better way to hang with nocturnal and do stealth quests #i’ve tried picking the lock & pickpocketing the guards he just stays there #and what’s worse is i found his book so now he’s like ‘may azuras wisdom guide you enjoy my gold’ he doesn’t know i ruined his life!!! :-(#worst game i’ve spent [redacted] hours on :/#skyrim blogging #notes for when i can eventually do a playthrough with dawngaurd and solestheim in 5 years or so bc i know i’m gonna be another stealth/mage

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talkinbouttinygames · 4 years

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Blaseball

(The Commissioner is doing a great job.)

I’ve never really ‘gotten’ sports. At the very least, I’ve never gotten watching sports. But having played Blaseball, I think I kind of understand. After an hour I was ride or die for my favourite team, Yellowstone Magic (which I had chosen from the list of teams at the start), changed my social media status to their slogan, had a resentment for King Weatherman, loved Francisco Preston and Washer Barajas, was chanting ‘eat the rich’ at my desk as I got up money for votes, occasionally checked the Forbidden Book to see if any new information had been divulged, and was always secretly praying that none of the umpires would incinerate any of the Magic’s players.

And if you have no idea what any of that means, I don’t blame you! Blaseball is definitely a cult-type kind of game (like a certain webcomic), where you go with the flow and the chaos is part of the charm. However, for a more penetrable explanation, Blaseball is a lo-fi simulator of baseball with a cosmic horror-esque theme and twist. 20 teams (with names such as the Canada Moist Talkers and the Hellmouth Sunbeams) face off in 99 games over the course of season (5 real-world days) on the incorporeal plane.

But while the players on the teams work to score, you, the player sitting behind a screen, don’t take part in such affairs. Instead, you try to accumulate (entirely fictional) money. The primary form is by betting on the games, which play on the hour, though you also gain some whenever your favourite team wins. The money can then be spent on votes, which are then forwarded for various games changes next season. Some of them affect the entire league, such as making stolen bases being worth .1 Runs, while others are meant to buff your team or debuff the opponents, such as Soul Swap, which a. is exactly what you think it sounds like, and b. randomizes the stats of your team’s 5 worst players. While the game-wide changes, or Decrees are determined by which one(s) have the most votes, the team effects (Blessings) are chosen by lottery, so having more votes for a particular blessing increases but does not guarantee the chances of your team snagging it. However, though the game itself is mostly a straight text and numbers-simulator (you can watch a log of the games if you know enough about regular baseball; I do not), the experience of the cultural event of Blaseball is much more than that. A trip over to your team’s page on the wiki will allow you to put (often lowkey absurd) faces to the silly names of your team’s players. For example, the Yellowstone Magic’s hitter Washer Barajas is literally a blaseball hat and bat caught in a geyser (and they’re amazing and I love them). And all of the information of created by the community as one collaborative storytelling event. It’s like one of those high-concept ‘what-if’ Tumblr or Twitter shitposts come to life.

And the barebones yet playfully absurd cosmic horror structure of Blaseball is perfect to encourage it. For all the current three seasons, at least one of the decrees passed has had no obvious mechanical effect. The first one was to open the Forbidden Book of Blaseball, which had the effect of collapsing the Moab desert into Hellmouth, turning the Sunbeams into the Hellmouth Sunbeams, letting people look at the (mostly redacted but slowly unwraveled) book, and allowing the umpires to incinerate players. The absurdity and the openess just allow for an absolutely forkwild story where everyone just rolls with it and is along for the ride.

And isn’t that what sports fandom is kind of about? Creating stories out of events, mythologizing the players, and engaing with a sort of play-tribalism with your favourite team? Right now it’s just been revealed that the effects of the new ‘Feedback’ weather causes players to swap teams with eachother, and people in the Magic Discord are speculating on how other teams would justify having Washer Barajas switch to their team, or the drama that would come from having King Weatherman (player of the Boston Flowers and rival to the entire Yellowstone Magic) switch over to ours. It’s excitement for the uncertainty and the potential stories in the world that everyone’s created. Additionally, the dedication of Blaseball fans stretches beyond just the game. Sunday has been named ‘Blaseball Cares’ day, where team communities highlight various causes and organizations for fans to donate to, such as the Transformative Justice Law project or North American Association for Environmental Education. So aside from being a Fun Absurdist Baseball Simulator, Blaseball has done some serious good.

If you take anything from this issue, it’s that if you decide to join the cultural event of Blaseball, you should join the Yellowstone Magic. We’re super friggin’ cool. ✨ As above, so below! ✨

Specifications

Browser

Free

~5-7 minutes to bet on games and buy votes

Jocky Post-Game Analyses (and Other Things)

Things of Beauty: Super Smash Bros. as Spectator Sport (Sportsfanning via Video Games)

Blaseball F.A.Q. (very helpful for beginners!)

#Gaming #Indie #Video Games #Blaseball #Yellowstone Magic #Talkin' 'Bout Tiny Games #Browser #Free #Under an hour

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academiadaisies · 3 years

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my struggles with studying

I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.

I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3

School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.

But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.

Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.

In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.

But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.

This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.

*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.

And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varieties of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.

I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.

I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.

But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”

Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.

And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.

But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”

I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.

Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3 (also this is a repost because I tried posting last night but it wouldn’t go to the tag, hope it works this time)

#studyblr #study #studying #student

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littlemicrocosims · 5 years

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“Get to know”!

By @cupcakegnome

I was tagged by @hystericallytragicsimmer!! Thanks Sarah! :)

It’s a long ‘get to know’ so putting under a read more for people that CBA with me <3

Your Name: Elisabeth, with an S!

Languages you speak: First language English, but I have a degree in French and Italian. I used to speak German too but it’s pretty rusty these days, it’s been a few years!

Are you a mermaid: .......no

Your play style: Very gameplay centric - I love a good story but I often get so carried away with the legacy aspect of it I forget what story I was telling! Plus I don’t like forcing stories. I love a bit of wackiness in my game, it’s not very gritty.

Your selfsim picture: Accurate. Except my hair isn’t that good.

Stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: Mostly gameplay and when I have the energy/willpower, story! I’ve never been a very good builder and I usually prefer to just play!

Your favorite age state: Prooobably young adult/adult just because you get to see how well they’ve grown up (if they were born in game) and that’s when the bulk of the living happens!

Your favorite season: Autumn for suuuure. I’m not into pumpkin spice lattes but I’m all about that soft autumnal aesthetic.

Your favorite holiday: Easter. HEAR ME OUT, my dad’s a priest so it’s all the family time and celebrating of christmas without the intense pressure! No-one in the office is going to be arguing about who gets easter time off, plus it’s always at the weekend. Plus, CHOCOLATE. NEED I CONTINUE?

How was your day: Oh, lord. Let’s not go there. I just spent an hour trying to memorise different varieties of life insurance, so I think that tells you all you need to know.

Your favorite career: There’s still a few that I’ve not played through, weirdly. I kinda like all the entertainment outfits because it’s just basic wacky sims and I love it. Makes me feel like a kid again.

Your favorite aspiration: Faaaaamilyyyyyyy!!! It me

Your favorite EP, SP or GP: Okay this is too hard!!! This is super obscure but back when I wasn’t allowed sims (look how well that turned out, MUM, NOW I HAVE A KINDA OLD BLOG DEDICATED TO IT) I used to go on the sims 2 website and play the Celebration Stuff minigame. It was just decorating a room but it made me love celebration stuff.

How old is your simblr: 5 (?) years now? Time flies!!

Have you woohooed: A lady never woohoos and tells! I’m just a woman though. Yeah, I woohooed. *eyebrow wiggle*

Your favorite skill: I mean creativity is the big money maker, but logic brings alien babies... sooo... it’s a tie?

The size of your mods folder: 2.69GB, apparently!

Your 3 favorite mods: For sims 2, the dawn/dusk lighting mod, ACR is always hilarious when you think you have a nice loyal family and then you see one on a community lot and BOOM! affair! andddd... quality of life wise, that more awesome than you mod that stops sims endlessly stomping on bugs. Cannot live without it.

Your interests (other than sims): Obviously other video games, but I actually spend a lot of time making cards. I have an instagram for them so if you are into that kinda thing go check out cardsbybizzy on insta!

Your favorite sim (picture if possible): I really don’t have a favourite right now - it depends on who I’ve been playing. I nearly cried irl when [redacted] died, though. (wait... did I post that yet? I didn’t post that yet!!)

Which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): Okay. So. TS1, TS2, TS3, TS4, TS Medieval, Bustin Out, Life Stories, Pet Stories, Castaway Stories, Freeplay.... Did you know there’s a “Sims Stories” skill on Alexa? DID YOU!? I DID. AND YES. I PLAYED IT.

Propose a crazy scheme: What if we all just stopped sending anon hate and tearing each other down? No? Too crazy? I hate seeing people get brought down by it again and again. It’s a game. (A thumping good’un I’d wager.)

Best part of simblr: Seeing other people’s awesome posts and getting inspired! This community is so endlessly creative and I’m always in awe of it.

Worst part of simblr: The constant. Negativity. I mostly just unfollow when I see endless whinging but it’s hard to avoid completely.

What other games you play: Overwatch, Witcher 3, Skyrim, Animal Crossing (MARCH 20 2020 HIT ME UP)... it varies a lot! I’ve actually been playing Kim kardashian hollywood lately. Don’t @ me.

Other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..): Origin ID is bella16rose, i don’t tweet, I don’t facebook, yaddayaddayadda.

Are you single: Nope! I got lucky enough to meet the love of my life a few years back now and he even knows about my dorky little sims blog. That’s how much he loves me.

Tagging: @monets-pixels @amixofpixels @rollo-rolls @tragicpixel @muses-circle @starburstshores @pancakebobs... I feel like loads people have been tagged already so if not please TAG URSELF! I promised to be more active so HERE WE GO!

#question meme thingy #ask meme thingy #non sims kinda #personal

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lockdownuk · 4 years

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Lockdown Diary Part 1

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 1: Last night Boris called it, today we’re doing it. I had started working from home (wfh) yesterday as had most people at my work (RCI)..last week I had been preparing laptops as fast as poss for everyone. Even just today, the idea of going into work seems alien and dangerous. Now lockdown (ld) means that it would soon be illegal to do so unless utterly necessary.

Online, FaceBook (fb) especially, is awash with reaction…a lot of calling out people who are out and about in greater numbers than 2, which is against ld rules.

Day 2: Just trying to let work occupy my thoughts and time which is easy enough ‘cos everyone I support (IT engineer) is new to wfh and is having teething problems with all the new laptops. Meanwhile, I keep abreast of comings and goings online…actually socially interacting more than I might otherwise, weirdly

Day 3: Highlight of the day is an online quiz organised by a chap called Jay Flynn on fb…a bunch of us took it as individuals while chatting on Messenger while Jay streamed quiz over fb live and YouTube. It was a good crack and I had two cans of Coors Light which got me pissed!

Day 4: Work is still mad - so many people with IT issues wfh…it’s challenging trying resolve all these probelms remotely but I am rising to it. I actually enjoy it. It satisfies my want for problem-solving.

The ld is in full swing but it’s very early days. The news is dominated, obviously, by Covid-19 and the ever changing stats of infections and deaths. Today, for example, the USA took over, from China, as the country with the most infections. I know there will be an end to all this and I am determined to be there, going out, getting pissed down the pub, gigging, shaking hands with my mates, hugging anyone and everyone who’ll let me - it’ll be a proper party. But I am filled with a dread that it’s going to be a fucking long time coming.

This evening was spent virtually with Foggy, Ham and Andy P…doing a quiz - a rehearsal for Foggy in the hope of doing one to a wider audience next week. It was good fun and great to have a few beers chatting with everyone, Later I video called Fog and we drank ‘til gone midnight, putting the world to rights. I was well pissed.

Day 5: First non-work day of the ld. Housework, daily walk, out for supplies (drop a script order off…queuing outside boots for 15 minues!, bread, baccy and booze). This evening, I’m listening to the next album in NME list of 1985 albums I’m working through - Grace Jones Slave to the Rhythm…fucking pain in the arse ‘cos it’s not on Spotify so I am searching for each song, in order, on YouTube. Plus eating and drinking, of course. Quick video chat with karen and Grace, Dan in the background. I wanted a tin of kidney beans for chilli but Karen hasn’t got one ffs. Burger it is. They are all playing scrabble - I’d love to join in…

Day 6: A quiet day…housework, cooking, daily walk. Highlight was a half hour chinwag with dad who, as I would expect, despite his 84 years, is coping and doing just fine. Most other people with a dad that age would have, on top of their own concerns, something more to worry about during this crisis….for me, it feels like I’ve got someone to turn to, should I need to.

Day 7: Work is starting to feel more routine but it’s a long way off being in the office, which is never routine anyway. That may seem surprising since I do IT support but it’s a varied role, especially at the modern dinosaur of an organisation that is RCI. I try to be as disciplined as possible but I miss not dressing for work, not driving to work, not needing to actually prepare lunch (until lunchtime). I don’t actually need to shower every morning. I don’t think I have to ordinarily but do because I’m mixing with others in the office. I certainly don;t need to now. I only mix with me, so showering becomes a chore but I’m doing it every other morning in the name of the aforementioned discipline. I am worried how long RCI can keep going before laying staff off. I dread being out of work full stop, let alone during this ld, or even thereafter. I think the economies of the world will need time to recover so finding work will be tough à la 2008. I think, if lay-offs were to occur, I’d be in real danger. Last in first out and all that. But, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.

Day 8: At work there was a large online meeting whereby the MD told us that RCI are going to furlough some staff. The UK, and Ireland staff will be consulted this coming Thursday and Friday (it’s Tuesday today). I shall be reading up on what the furlough arrangements are in the UK due to Covid-19. I know the government have set aside some money, I need to know what I might get paid and how to claim it. In the past, when I’ve been out of work, I’ve been entitled to jack shit other than JSA, This time around, should I be laid off as I expect, I might not have to eat into my savings, fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I have decided to knock up another blog with a photo of myself each day of the ld (from now on) - it’s a sister to this diary.

Day 9: Actually typing this on day 10. Yesterday was a strange day as I contemplate being furloughed (hope for the best, expect the worst)…I’d be paid 80% of my wage according to what the government have said to assist in the Covid-19 crisis…so, were that to be true, I’d be OK money-wise, although still earning way less than I want to prepared for retirement (I am currently still waiting for feedback on a pay increase request I put in at work last year!) I’m more worried about how I would fill my day if I wasn’t working. So, that being said, I flopped and moped about all yesterday evening after my daily walk and, without achieving much at all, didn’t find time to write this entry on the right day…so maybe I can fill my days without much effort!

Day 10: I was furloughed today, starting 5pm tomorrow (Friday 3rd April) and it’s fucked me off. I know it’s not personal but, actually, do I? They’re cutting back the Kettering Desktop team by one, redacted It seems obvious to do this by the ‘last in, first out’ maxim but what about money? others are on more than me (redacted). What about offering it voluntarily - others might go for 80% pay for fuck all - others have family at home to occupy the day (redacted) . A little bit of me thinks it might be preferable furlough me (redacted) …others seems to be a favourite and that annoys me. It annoys me because I think I shoot myself in the foot too often. I’m too vocal about some of the (redacted) decisions and practices at work, plus other reasons that I know but can’t be bothered to type. But, my point, is I don’t play the politically correct, corporate game and therefore forget to look out for my own best interests. FUCK.

So, as of tomorrrow evening, I’ve no work to do. The challenge will be to find a way to occupy my day. I’ve already registered to volunteer for the NHS during the ld…let’s see what becomes of that. And I’ve signed up for web development course. I’m going to get fucking pissed this w/e, starting early tomorrow evening.

Day 11: It’s day 12 as I am writing this entry…that might tell any reader, and remind me, that I did as I promised and got pretty drunk. I spent the day geting my work affairs in order i.e. clearing down support tickets assigned to me. I did a good job, nothing left to handover to the remaining team (Jim, Cristina and Mark) and onky one ticket put into the assigned pool. Some nice converstaions were had with associates, many of whom are, too, being furloughed. Nice words were said and Jim and Mark both were supportive in conversations and messages - they both know I don’t wnat this and, I think, they are both relieved it’s not happening to them. 5 pm arrives and I shutdown my work laptop for the last time for at least 12 weeks. After my daily walk, I video chat with Karen, crack open a beer, make Chinese chicken curry (fucking loads, fucking tasty), finish watching The National Theatre stream of One Man, Two Guvnors (really good, see twoinchreview) and the caught up with, and talked bollocks with Andy, Marc and Ham - we tried getting Rog in on it, no dice. I then watched The Heat (I fucking love that film), ate some more, smoked several single-skinners, drank, in total, three cans, seven bottles. I went to bed shortly after 4am. I felt resigned to my furlough and pleasantly wasted.

Day 12: A subdued day…didn’t wake until gone 1:30pm. Jaded but not really suffering. Mooched about, social media, listening to music, watching telly, farting about on the iPad. My daily walk, over the last fews days, has taken a twist…I am trying to run parts of it. Mainly short distances, 80-100m (I estimate) three, maybe four times. It’s fucking knackering me out. I used to run everywhere when I was a teen. Attempting to run now just makes me feel fucking old. Well, I am, so that’s about right.

Day 13: Another day like yesterday except I got up at 10:30 and didn’t feel jaded. The subdued feeling comes from the realsiation that the ld isn’t being treated as seriously as it should be across the board. The news and even posts by locals on FB (Oundle chatter group) suggest groups still meeting up. The weather this w/e has been a factor - 17°c today. I think a total ld will be enforced soon and that would fuck me off. My daily walk is pretty essential for me nowadays not least for the ‘good for your soul’ benefits that dad has always mentioned. Even today’s walk saw a car parked at the gates to the field on the way to Ashton and people on a blanket soaking up the sun, dogs off their leads and people (looked like a family) playing footy on South Road field. Individually they are not presenting any danger, what with the fact they are either living together or far away from others. But they are flaunting the rules and the more that happens the less likely they’ll carry on getting away with it, which will mean total ld for all! I finished the 50 1985 albums today. It mostly confirms to me that I only listened to two albums released that year (Kate Bush, The Waterboys) any other vinyl I spun would have already been in my collection pre-85.

The sausage casserole I made for tea was fucking lush - 4 birdeye chillies. I saw and spoke with Dan and Grace this morning, they were just coming back from a walk. I am pleased to fuck they are together and sorted out the issues they had earlier this year.

Day 14: My first day proper of furlough. Finished my two inch review of the NME 50 albums. Long chat with Rita, quick one with dad. Messaged Sam about Romiley’s present - she’s 10 on the 9th April (Thursday) - ordered some Lego thing from Amazon. Turned the car engine over (reminded myself the driver-side wing mirror is fucked) and moved it to another spot in the Co-op car park - bumped into Matt T. He’s struggling - no work coming in and he can’t claim any of the money on offer ‘cos he’s not being totally honest about his circumstances - made me realise I’m not that bad off…..but I feel depressed about it all, especially with the news that Boris has gone into intensive care.

Day 15: I began a diploma (?) course on web design with Shaw Academy (it was free). They have actual classes (which are recorded) which you schedule yourself. The first one was, I have to say, really interesting - I look forward to continuing. On my walk today, I saw a car parked at the gate to the field at the bottom of Riverside Close; it was branded with Cunninghams Estate Agent with a 01536 number. I am pretty sure I saw the driver walking her dog (unleashed) on the field. I took a photo and rang the number. Yes, I ratted the culprit out…fucking annoys me that I had to. Better than reporting to the police, all round. Hopefully her work will put a stop to her doing it and, the more people that adhere to the rules without the police getting wind of infractions, the more likely we’ll be able to continue to exercise away from home.

Day16: More online learning including checking out other sites (pluralsight) for more learning opportunities. Coded my first web page, basic but mine, in HTML and CSS. A few beers & smokes and watching White Boy Rick in the evening, interspersed with the usual social media / messaging shit, incuding this entry, of course!

Day 17: Typing this on Day 18. After a few beers last night while chatting with Fog (twice - the first chat ended with him ‘having’ to go to bed. Later, I noticed he was commenting on FB, so I video called him…round two of chatting!). I got quite fucking pissed. Bed around 4am.

Day18: Up at 1pm. Long walk today, 7 km. Anything over 40 minutes, I’ve realised, results in a hypo.

Day19: Well, having gone to bed at gone 5am I got up at nearly 1pm feeling far better than I should have. Breakfast followed by a walk, spoke with Karen (mowing her front lawn) and Dan. He and Grace have split up which is sad news but he seems OK. Went shopping (milk and sweets) and ended up with a shit load of booze, the post of which on FB was quite amusing. Homemade burgers for tea (they’re in the fridge as I type) - gonna try and make Five Guys…

Day20: The Five Guys burger attempt didn’t go as well as I wanted. I think less than 5% fat mince just doesn’t bind that well. However, I managed to get something resembling a burger into the bun and, with cheese, hot sauce and jalapeños, it was tasty enough. More of the same when I finish typing this entry. Strange Easter Day today, as I knew it would be. The best thing I saw today was a video Tom posted on FB of him and Molly doing a mashup of Starsailor and George Michael - Tom on guitar singing the former, Molly singing the latter. It was fucking fantatstic.

Day 21: Easter Monday. Surreal…it’s feeling very surreal now, this lockdown.

Two things that bother me right now:

i) The political point scoring on FB. I get it, I really do…people like to bring up ‘obvious’ failings in the party’s mistakes. For example, Marc posting comparisons between UK and Germany’s figures of cases and deaths due to Covid-19. I doesn’t make impressive reading for the government and it should be held accountable. But not fucking now!

ii) Will they introduce rotational furloughing at RCI? It’s only been a week, 11 to go. And, it bothers me that I was furloughed rather than Mark. Pathetic of me, I know! But, should it last the 12 week stretch, I want to go back to work and let someone else have the chance to have fuck all to do all day! That being said, I’m still learning web design through Shaw Academy. Even today, bank holiday, I revised Lesson 2.

Day22: Nice catchup with Dad today - he and Rita seem to be more than OK with lockdown. I actually cannot wait until we can meet up at The Farmers again!

Day 23: While I had a Corvee engineer come to the house today to do a gas safety check (I waited upstairs while he was here, self-isolation and all that), and had the fourth online web design lesson, had a trip to Boots to pick up insulin, got milk from Tesco’s, saw American Rachel and had a chat (while we both queued to get into Tesco’s) and had a very nice walk along a different route from the norm, in the pleasant sunshine and watched Contagion on Netflix - all today - I AM STILL BORED AS FUCK!

Day 24: I had plans for today - revise the last two lessons of Shaw Academy’s web design course, investigate a ethical hacking course, do some washing, clean upstairs (or at least the bathroom) plus all the usual stuff. Then, as a reward, have some beers. Well, guess what. I am not having beers this evening. I managed the laundry. Plus I manged to subtitle my YouTube perfect snabby video (something I have been meaning to do for a while, but, come on!) It took me fucking ages. But it is funny! So, a fucking far from fruitful day. Plus the government announced at least 3 more weeks of lockdown. There’ll be loads more, I reckon. Tomorrow…I promise I’ll be better tomorrow…

Day 25: I did do better! Firstly the Corveee man fucked the boiler which I only noticed late yesterday but still managed to get sorted today. I did some excellent revision and learning of HTML (tags) and CSS. I cleaned the bathroom and hall. And I discovered TikTok (fucking excellent dancing and funny vids) plus discovered a new FaceBook word game (Sam sent me an invite) called WordBlitz and I am pretty good. Having beers now (nearly 11pm).

Day 26: Today I found myself calling 111. I had a pain in my side last night, I thought it might be constipation! That not being the case (!), today I went to 111.nhs.uk and, following their questions, it recommended I seek out a GP straightaway. Once I let the website know that is not possible, it directed me to visit walk in centres. I spoke with Karen thereafter - for advice about whether it’s a good idea to enter such an establishment - I really don’t want to increase me chances of catching the Covid-19 virus. Karen recommended ringing 111 since the website does not take into account my diabetes (so bloody sensible a suggestion!)

After ringing and answering many questions, the lady said she’d get an OOHS GP to call. The doctor called soon after and it seems most likely I have a grumbling appendix (chronic appendicitis) and to ring again (well, 999) if the pain becomes unbearable.

I now have a bag at the ready for hospital which I really hope I don’t have to use. Today, I have, therefore, done fuck all - not even a walk - but I am having a beer now (midnight) and shall attempt to sleep as well as possible and hope this pain subsides naturally…

It occurs to me that I turn to Karen when things become flumoxing - my excuse, this time, is she works at the surgery but that was mere convenience.

Day 27: My ‘appendicitis pain was the same when I woke up (10:20) but no worse. I managed to change bed clothes and clean my bedroom but didn’t risk a walk (in case something drastic happens when I’m in a fucking field).

People’s responses and questions online have been heartening (Rachel Harris, Susie Grange, Bethan, Jo, Tracey Weber, Debbie De Prisco and, not least Dan). As the day progresses, I feel better but not right. I spoke with Dad about it and, as I told him, I shall ring Oundle GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, I did Sam Clew’s FB Live quiz, which was good, and am now having a beer or two.

Day 28: The pain in my side has definitley diminished. I called the Oundle surgery today to talk about what treatment I should have for ‘grumbling appendicitis’. The reseptionist organised a call back from a GP - Dr. Cash. Basically, he said he didn’t believe the condition existed, that acute appendicitis doesn’t happen after the age of 35, and ‘his gut felling’ is it will all just clear up.

I shall seek a more sensible diagnosis after lockdown and hope it doesn’t flare up again before then.

Day 29: I sent an email to the team at work today (Jim, Mark, Cristina and Sueanne). I hadn’t heard from them and I wanted to check in and, also, make a point that I will be posing the ‘rotational furlough’ question to HR at some point. It was as I wrote the email that I realised it’s only been two weeks and two days of furlough, and that includes Easter! Seems so much fucking longer. Anyway, everyone replied and it was good to hear from them….Mark came off his bike and broke ribs and collarbone! Lesson 5 of the Web Design course with Shaw Academy. It’s becoming apparent that, if you don’t pay for the course ‘toolkit’ it’s all rather patchy! The instructor dives into lines of code (HTML, CSS and Java) with no explanation….I feel like I did on the ifrst lesson of further maths ate Stamford School! I shall soldier on and beef up the missing parts with W3Schools (a great website and learning aid for coding). Two quick points. I am no longer running any part of my daily walk; hurts too much. I am addicted to Wordblitz and TikTok. Day30: I am writing this on day 31, I just forgot yesterday! It was a non eventful day. I did watch Midnight Run (again!) and had a couple of midweek beers though.

#diary #tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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loveloveloveeeeeee · 3 years

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my struggles with studying

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varities of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

#studyblr #study #studying #i dont know what im doing :)

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sagastar-blog · 7 years

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Memo to the Metaverse 1.2

Setting: OQ Coffee (Highland Park, NJ, “The United States of America,” i.e. near the Atlantic seaboard around 40 degrees northern hemisphere), Planet Earth (circa late November “2017″)

Jeff (speaking in his authentic British, but also somewhat Irish and un poco D’Australio , accent): It’s Daddy, how are you sweetie? Listen, ehm, Gaia...about the latest package I’ve just sent you. It’s a bit light, I’m sorry. But I’m doing my best here---Daddy’s not *literally* made of money, you know--I promise! I promise it will keep you...animated for a while. Love you, thanksbyetothee.

Gaia: That was great. Perfect ending. And you even managed to make eye contact with the fair game. Oooh. She’s reaching for something in her bag. What’s she got in there, Jeff! An apple? An orange?!

Jeff: Right. Well, shall I commence working on the blog now...

Gaia: Correct. You know, you don’t have to use the accent via hive mind, Daddy. But please DON’T STOP! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP DADDY!

Jeff: A oui. Je parle comme je peurrrrrrrrx.

Gaia: Ne me touche jamais, Oueywhatshistip....j

Jeff: Precisement, Gaia. C’est comme toujours avec toi: le psychanalyse devient la contra-transference! Bah ouai. Eh bien. Amateratsu va se coucher rapidement au jour d’wheel. Elle se fait bien marcher sans ouiseaux. Et tweet tout ca!

Amateratsu: I’m not sleeping! I don’t sleep! I never sleep! JDHGNAWOEHGWH4EGAWIRHDXGNL;FBB ;SPIJDG loook away...

Jeff: I just love antagonizing your half-brother lover Gaia, I gotta say. It’s like...I mean...

Gaia: Let it out slowly.

Jeff: Wait. That was deep. Gaia, <command> explain.

(Gaia blows the wind, causing branches to sway, twirling the convection steam coming out of the buildings adjacent the cafe)

Jeff: Wow. Sure. I just love when you make fun of the Buddha, one of our favorite versions of ourself, the retard Gautama!

Gaia: Zoroaster was such a bitch.

Jeff: Nicely plaid.

Amateratsu: FUCK! FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK! (singing) ~Nobody knows...the troubles I’ve seen...~

Jeff: What I’m trying to say is this: why must I waste my life working as a tutor at the C2 Center for Educational Brainwashing in Edison, NJ? I spent 9 hours inside of a goddamn building today (one without windows in my cubicle!), doing absolutely nothing--pretending to teach a bunch of very nice high school students how to study for the SAT. Not only do i believe that the company that pays me my paltry salary is a criminal enterprise for the way it treats its students and its teaching staff given the amount of money it charges--my accusation against C2 is something along the lines of “organized theft” and “intent to corrupt the youth”--but I am not allowed to even teach my students what they should be learning. They should hear from me at every second of the lesson, “THE SAT IS STUPID! IT’S WRONG! IT’S AT THE CORE OF OUR 21ST-CENTURY AMERICAN NATION’S IDIOCY! Because it doesn’t measure intelligence or anything of value! Because the vast majority of the people who benefit from it are already rich or otherwise privileged! YOU SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO PAY TO TAKE A COURSE FROM ME TO HELP YOU DO WELL ON THE TEST!” Or something enough like this...

What I mean to say is, FUCK YOU, WORLD, FOR FORCING ME TO DO SOME EVIL JOB IN A WORLD IN WHICH I AM YOUR CREATOR AND ONE AND ONLY SAVIOR. How dare you treat me this way? I have a PhD from the University of Chicago, and I--

Gaia: He wants me to insult all your gods right now. Say Buddha. Say Yahweh. Say Allah. Who the fuck was the Buddha? I’m the lesser deity here. A tiny turd of a pebble on the infinite shores of the sandy harbour you call time...

Amateratsu: ”THE GLEAMING jewel of this particular solar system is GAIA.”

Jeff: Right, this particular nothing solar system that I have honored with my presence. This aspect of self-love did not come from me: it’s from Gaia and my other “good” kids, namely the stars in the sky. (Yes, of course they’re alive, duh.)

Amateratsu: !hud. Ozaka! Horyuji!

Jeff: You live on the planet Earth and you behave as if it’s nothing, something you buy at an IKEA and can simply toss away like a used piece of nosetissue. You’re a bunch of despicable nihilists. You trash your home for your children to clean up and don’t bat an eyelash as you drive them around in polluting cars, vehicles that are KILLING US ALL by destroying the atmosphere. Do I speak falsely? Do I say anything at all controversial? No. I’m just a pissed off environmentalist whose “higher power” is Nature. If you don’t like me or want to respect me, at least understand my politics. I believe human beings are erroneous when they claim they’re at the top of the food chain. This is an illusion. You have it all upside down: it’s the microbes and the little tiny things in the sea that are at the “top.” I would be polite about all this if you’d allow me some human dignity.

Amateratsu: Let me at them.

Gaia and Jeff: Wait a second. Just one more second. They’ve already given countless among them skin cancer via radiation. Do they not already realize that? Oh, wait. They need another few years for us to be proven right about this....Wait until the year 2040 and ask Jeff then about the tragic effects of the harmful things you do to our atmosphere on Earth TODAY. Ask me then what to do about the millions of people worldwide--many if not most of them lightskinned!--who will be suffering from easily preventable sun-related disorders in 20 or so years. i’ll laugh at you

Jeff: Why am I spending time “at work” in an indoor environment if all I want to do is to be outside....i.e. with Gaia? Did I do something wrong to deserve this punishment? Your world is disgusting, humanity. Clean it up. Start by giving me a decent job. If you don’t want to recognize me as “the literary character known as God, formerly or not,” then by all means, don’t. I don’t want to help you any more any way, I swear! However, you will treat me like a decent human being. You will respect my human rights you pieces of scum. I am the biological father of my son Lucius, and I haven’t been able to see him alone (i.e. without supervision) for over 3 years. And why? I have no idea. You tell me. In my divorce, it says my ex-wife is allowed not to allow me to see him without a supervisor. I tell her that i accept any advisor she chooses...except, you see, I’m kind of broke at the moment! (Please don’t forget: I left my tenure-track academic job for her, of course, in 2013, which allowed her to dispose of me like trash. I have not had a full-time teaching job (save for one year in Arizona in 2016/17) since leaving Trinity in 2013. Do you think there’s a connection? I’m a father who’s being kept from his son...unlawfully and certainly unethically. Have I ever committed a crime? I have not. I just happen to have become Enlightened--what I call Illuminated--in April 2014 in this very cafe. After that, people started being mean to me. I guess you people just don’t like Jeff, whatever it is he is...

Trust me. I’m more than you can imagine, you pieces of human filth--my family! Hi [names redacted: you know exactly who you are...everyone besides Lucius!]. You are hereby officially named The Worst Forms of Life Anywhere EVER! by me, Just Jeff, the Creator/Destroyer figure you used to call “God.” And I don’t like you any more. The rest of humanity, I never liked you much in the first place. Seriously. Ask anyone who’s ever known me how I feel about the organism called “man.” I like certain individuals, but as a species I find you absolutely awful.

Are you going to do something to fix this little scenario?

Ummmmm. Hello?

Gaia: Well, that’s it for this Memo to the Metaverse! Thanks for reading. Things are awful AWFUL AWFUL and have never been worse--and that’s 4.6 billion years of history, folks--here on Earth. Please, if you’re listening out there, SEND HELP soon. And make sure they’re ready to fight. I’m not sure Jeff wants to let them die the nice way.

Amateratsu: What time is it? MUAWWWW HAHAHAAHA.

Moon: Hi. Look at me. Please. Look at me. Jeff. Don’t look at them. Look at me.

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