You look gorgeous, wow! A beautiful photo.
"Stop carrying it around, it's only hurting you. You have to move on."
Maybe I am the only one hurting over it--he sure as fuck isn't losing any sleep. But my past and what I've experienced isn't a bag I can drop; it's not something I forget as I forgive, that gets erased as I learn how to cope and counteract the effects of learned behaviors. I can accept that something has happened, that I will never have any resolution, and still have to deal with every day the effects. The abuse isn't happening any more, but that doesn't make it disappear.
Time makes it hurt less; coping mechanisms make it easier to deal with, I get that. But it doesn't make it less WRONG, and no matter how well-intentioned, though I would never say it to the faces of those who say it, "Stop carrying it around," is patronising and hurtful. No matter if what you mean is really, "Find the way of living and coping that heals you most and makes it hurt the least," what your literal words are saying is that it is my CHOICE to be a victim, my CHOICE to keep my ingrained behaviors and flashbacks and anxieties, that dropping years of my life like so much garbage on the side of the road is something I have CHOSEN not to to, or perhaps just haven't thought to try before.
I work EVERY DAY to make my abuse, my depression, my illness, my anxiety not all that I am; not something I dwell on, not a 'crutch', because the world has nothing but disdain for that, but I can't just erase them from my everyday life--their big effects, their small effects, the little things and the big things, the ones that you see when I have a screaming breaking point meltdown and the only coherent emotion in me is FEAR and the ones that are routine, with their routine medication and their routine mind over matter therapy techniques and their routine therapy sessions and psychiatry appointments ('do you really need those? hasn't it been long enough? you have to let it go, it's only hurting you'). I can't get rid of them. That isn't a luxury I am afforded. Isn't that the first thing they tell you about medication? About therapy? 'They're tools. They won't fix anything overnight.' And yet I keep hearing it, professionals and pedestrians, people I trust and people I love and it hurts every time--"They'll get their own in the end. You have to stop carrying it with you. You're only hurting yourself."
Like it's new information. Like the promise of divine retribution will magically make me healthy again. Like if I really had a choice, I would choose this--flinching from loud noises and flashbacks and a constant stream of medication and a fear of authority that would make me cry in a tai chi class--over leaving it in the past 'where it belongs', 'moving forward', 'letting it go'. And when I think I'm making progress and doing just that, healing, not letting it have control over even a small aspect of my life, little victories, it's not good enough. It's not fast enough.
"You need to let go this.
"It's only hurting you."
So over the weekend I went with my boss, who has essentially adopted me as her youngest granddaughter, on a shopping trip to Los Éstados Unidos. There I picked a weenie lil baby camera. She's a gorgeous deep blue and I've named her Sofia. She's perfect.
She did not, however, come with a memory card. I've never bought a camera before and perhaps this is standard procedure, but Sofia was an expensive lil piece of tech for a point-and-shoot and I find it a little tasteless and cheap that the company doesn't include even a crappy little 4G SD card so you can actually use their cameras as soon as you buy them, instead of spending another, oh, minimum twenty bucks on mandatory storage. But whatever. After work, I happily walked down to the nearest Staples and purchased a 32G SD on sale for twelve bucks, and began the forty-five minute walk across town home.
And on the way I had a very fortuitous encounter with a pair of swimming trunks.
The swimming trunks in question are child-sized, and have been hanging on a telephone pole in hopes of their owner's return for several weeks now. Or rather, had been, because while walking by I noticed this little guy hanging on them, and when I came back to take pictures the man mowing his lawn AROUND the telephone pole said I could take them if I wanted, and so I took home my new lil friend, swim trunks and all.
There are bugs under the cut. Specifically, several very close-up pictures of up to two bugs at a time. Two? One and a half? Two halves? I suppose it depends on what you qualify as a bug. Regardless, if creepy crawlies aren't your thing, look no further.
( BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGS BUGSCollapse )
TL;DR: I got a new camera and took artsy pictures of old bug skin. That is all.
2. I also was in the hospital for a Crohn's flare up before Chirstmas. That's still ongoing. I'm still pretty hit and miss. Today and yesterday? Definite misses.
3. My mother, blessed be her eternal soul, got me a New Nintendo 3DS XL for Christmas, completely unsolicited. It's shiny and red and the first time I've ever had the newest version of any electronic ever.
So, to make a long story short, I've been playing enough Animal Crossing and Pokemon to make my eyeballs melt out of their sockets. And enjoying every blessed minute of it.
( Vidya GaemzCollapse )
Anyways, I've been distracting myself with virtual reality because real reality and I are maybe kind of not on speaking terms at the moment, and video games are much more fun than real life. Psh, responsibilities. What are those?
Working in retail teaches you that people are stupid as shit.
I love working at the tea shop, but trying to explain tea strainers and the French Press to people ruins my day every day it happens. Apparently the idea of balancing a tiny strainer on a cup with tea leaves in it and pouring hot water in the cup in question is much too hard for the average person to visualize, much less putting the leaves in a pot with a push-down strainer, filling it with hot water, and pushing the top down a few minutes later so shit doesn't get in your drink as you pour it. Driving, a process which involves piloting a huge hunk of metal powered by explosions at high speeds beside oblivious pedestrians and other huge explosion-powered metal cases, that's easy, but pouring water on shit? Holy balls of the Good Lord Baby Jesus, "I have one at home and I can never remember how to use it, why does it have to be so complicated??? D: "
ETA: I don't expect people to know automatically how to use either of these things without being told, although I do think a reasonable person could make a good guess. I just don't think either of those things warrants three or four explanations, just like I don't expect people to know that our debit machine isn't touch, but maybe you could figure it out after the second or third time it didn't respond, instead of pushing increasingly harder seven or eight times on the screen.
Random strangers chastisize me for being scared of driving, because I must be stupid for being scared of hitting people with a car when I know I'm not good at multitasking, but teapots. Those, those are what's really difficult in life.
...from nine months of absence to talk about pens. I've been told that being particularly picky about pens and what brand and model and how they write is a writer thing, and as this is a community with many writers, dying though it may be, it seemed a pertinent place for this information.
Am I the only one who organizes my pens? Not just by, like, colour and size and things, but actively ranks them in storage from 'Favoured Pens' to 'Acceptable Pens' to 'Moderately Acceptable Pens' to 'Pens I Will Only Condescend to Use in Times Of Dire Need and Discrace' (TM). All blue ballpoint pens fall into this category indescriminately. All of them. I possess a passionate and inexplicable hatred of blue ballpoint pens. Black is okay in an emergency. Green if I'm feeling Fun.
In general, my preference is for black rollerball pens, .05 tip size, retractable. These are for some reason incredibly hard to find, although I buy them whenever I see them and hoard them quietly in glee. Frixon recently came out with an erasable, retractible .05 tip pen, which originally filled me with delight given the reliably erasable ink formula, but sadly the ink in question is a faded, pencil-ish grey in the black pens. Other colours seem to hold their vibrancy better, but the black sadly does not share this same trait. It is, however, useful for sudoku and crossword puzzles.
Not unrelated, I have decided that in the new year I am going to splurge and buy myself the Waterman Perspective fountain pen, in silver with chrome trim. This is entirely unnecessary as far as a purchase goes, but I have decided I don't care. I've been eyeing it for a whole year, and lord knows it will go to use. Now it's just to reconcile my christmas spending (which I will admit I thoroughly enjoyed, buying gifts for people I loved without the same tiny budget restraints, more on that later) and my recent purchase of 24 lovely watercolour pencils (but they were on sale!) with that plan. Oh well. I actually have money to spend a bit, for once in my life, because...
I got a job! A job at a tea shop!! Where I get to talk to people about different kind of teas!!! This is pretty much perfect for me, totally and completely. I love tea. I live sharing my knowledge with people. I get to work with food and taking care of people and this job lets me do that, and also wake up not at insane times of the morning!!! As much as this is putting my finishing high school on hold, and as much as this wasn't anything I'd planned for myself, I'm happy. I can pretty much run a tiny restaurant with my eyes closed and I'm up for a legitimate managerial position if the owner expands. Also, the owner in question and her husband have kind of adopted me. And by kind of I mean completely. She's a tiny, fiery 73 year old lady and she bought me a bath set. It smells like candy apples. Also she took me to dinner and I stole the bill while she was out smoking and oh lord was I in trouble that night.
Also, I was in the hospital last Thursday to Saturday, and then I got exhausted at work on Monday so I was banned from work Tuesday to today. I had a dermatologist appointment on Wednesday and he gave me an acne cream, so we'll see how well thay helps with the ongoing battle against my face. And...and I guess I'm just looking forward to Christmas, now! One week away tomorrow, gosh, I'm so excited. I love Christmas. Christmas is Best Day.
I've been reading all your entries, I swear, just not commenting. Hopefully I'll get back in the habit of that, and posting. And writing. God do I ever need to get back in the habit of writing. (I plan on joining wordsinthebrain, a pet project of rubyelf's. She said we could pimp it so pimping it I am.)
Hope your holidays are going well and things are joyous, not stresseful! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate and a who don't.
My mom boiled a chicken for dinner today, so I made chicken soup with the broth and the leftovers and a bunch of peas and carrots and celery and green onions and pasta. And some flour. It's looking a little thick but I like thick soups, so hopefully it doesn't taste too bad. Eh, how much could I have messed it up, really, right? Right.
Other than that I haven't done much today. My godmother was visiting (she's absolutely wonderful and we had a wonderful visit) but she flew back home yesterday, so the house is quieter now. My mom got a new couch while my godmother was here, though, and it's absolutely gigantic. It's one of those funny u-shaped ones (a sec...tional...?) and I currently have my legs stretched out, and my mother has her legs stretched out, and there is still room for a whole other person to streth THEIR legs out towards my mother!!! It's huge! I'm glad she got herself something; she's been really hating the state of the house lately. My godmother, for some unknown reason, tidied up a whole bunch of rooms while she was here (oh my gosh, the basement looks amazing now) and so I think my mom is feeling better about that. We're getting rid of the old couch, and an old coffee table that was all scratched up by my dog, and we washed the old loveseat and moved it and a large chair we have downstairs. It's really nice to have so much 'new space' around, and along with daylight saving's time making everything stay brighter later into the day, things just seem more...hopeful, I guess. Or maybe that's just my body being really super happy that I remembered to actually take my antidepressants today. One or the other, I suppose.
(Yes, I KNOW it's bad to forget to take your medications and it's bad for your brainchemicals and irresponsible and don't do that, Taylor. I get it. I've told myself. I know.)
I might write. Or I might do some schoolwork. Or I might read more of The Instructions--it's very good, actually, very philosophical but not so deep you feel like you have to take notes and read each passage four times over before you understand the message. Intellectual without ruining the flow. Kind of bordering on transgressive in its own way--it's about a jewish genius scholar and basically his outlook on life. I think at some point soon he's going to stage a violent revolution within his school program. I'm only a third of the way in, but I love it so far. Probably will write more in-depth about it when I'm less scattered.
And lastly, I treated myself to some music the other day. Very pleased about that. Both of Florence + the Machine's albums, Waiting For My Rocket to Come by Jason Mraz, and Paramore's Riot! along with a bunch of singles. Maybe next week I'll finally get around to buying the Frozen album, that would make me a happy person indeed.
Anywho. I'm off to get me a ginger ale. What have you guys been up to?