Albeit, apparently only the 'time' definition of the word. By the girlfriend definition, I'm at least adequate given today. So basically, today was my one-month anniversary with my significant other. We spent the whole day together, mostly doing nerd stuff. We finished Princess Tutu (definitely going in my favorite-anime-of-all-time pile and I am very very very much a Fakiru shipper), and also watched both versions of DEBS.

Of course. Said significant other sprung this on me because I was too much of an idiot to have remembered the date. In their defense, they gave me a fair number of hints and warnings, butstill, I ended up blindsided because I am a terrible person and couldn't even think to remember that critical detail.

I feel like there was more to say about this lovey dovey experience and how overwhelmed with love I was the entire time and how much I thought of them and enjoyed being in their presence and just having good clean fun (though apparently both of us wouldn't mind it being not-so-clean fun.........), but it's getting a bit late so my brain's not quite functioning right.

It was a good day. <3

I just want to give a great big <3 and acknowledge the people who love me and to put it simply you are amazing and I always question just what could make this moronic moody girl be so deserving of your affection and yet you give it so freely and that is the most beautiful thing in the world.

...It's on that note I should tell you to please not panic about my blog entry for the day! Because you won't like the sound of it. I was asked by my mom if I'd lost weight--I hadn't really thought I had, but then again it had been over a month since I had weighed myself. I told the truth about this when it came up (this conversation was a day or two ago), but had it on my mind all the same.

So today at the beginning of the day I weighed myself: 134.8 pounds. Now. That's within the margin of error. The normal is 138 give or take (usually take) five pounds, which places the lower boundary at 133. Butstill, that is a liiiiiittle bit less than ideal and at the point where people close to me may be tempted to go all panicky on me. I need to be careful not to lose more; I need to try and gain weight. But don't be too worried, because I can do it.

...Though...
...Today? Not exactly me proving it. I kinda wish I could say I had, but I really didn't. I had breakfast. But then, in spite of me having this knowledge, what did I do? Did I have my normal tae kwon do day lunch and then some extra? Why, of course not! In fact I kinda sorta skipped out on lunch altogether! (In my defense, lunch = eggs my dad made and the eggs he made were preeeeeeeetty inedible, butstill, I didn't seek alternatives.) So I actually had less to eat on my physical activity day than normal.

I did make it up, though. I'm pretty sure the meal I had for dinner was more than I'd normally have? It's a little difficult to tell the exact amount I'd consume, but it felt like more at the very least. Even if not, the type of food was one which was fairly healthy (lots of pasta <3), so I think it's energizing?

I'm bad at food stuff if you couldn't tell. But I'm not so incompetent as to let myself continue to lose weight now that I know that there's the risk thereof. And even if I were. Even if I did lose weight. I'd be smart enough to go to a doctor about it--FORCE the issue with my mom and tell her that I can't let it wait to some unspecified future point.

...But we're not to that point yet. My cutoff there is 130 pounds. I reach that point, I need a doctor pronto. I'm at like 132 or so, I try everything in my power to crank up my consumption. I'm not going to let any health problems from me being underweight develop; I'm not going to let any weight loss go without monitoring.

So you can trust me to be good on this. I won't be unhealthy. I may not exactly be healthy. But I won't let myself degrade. That's a promise--and while I can make frivolous promises prone to breaking, this is a personal promise I've made on every level. Not just to my loved ones, but also to family and also to myself. It's one I will keep. With luck, it won't be an issue though, since this is something fixed just by eating.

​Bonn apatite. 

I was literally in bed ready to sleep when I realized I had yet to make a blog entry.
In spite of my significant other having asked me to make an entry...
...Multiple times...
...Today.

Whoops!

Well. At least I did manage it.

Largely thanks to said significant other.
​Sometimes it's good to have someone nagging at you. <3

So that means I anticipate work being busier than normal. I also anticipate being asked to do more, which would not be fun. I mean. Every prior time I've said this, I've ended up dodging the bullet, but. I've only got so much luck. And the opener today is one of the most insistent on me doing the one and only thing I DON'T want to do.

Fold towels? Heck yeah I enjoy that. Do chems? I'm the de facto chem taker every time I'm a guard. Stock towels? Natural extension of having folded them. Clean our staff room? I'd honestly do that for free thanks to my OCD. That I'm expected to be paid when doing so is a bonus! Clean equipment? Same exact thing. Clean/sweep pool deck? I do this on my own out of boredom if nothing else; it keeps me occupied yet with a sense of productivity.

...Enter the men's locker room?

...I'm sorry, but no that's Not Okay for me and I'm not going to pretend it is. I don't care how unprofessional my evasion appears. (And I know my 'negligence' is exactly that.) I am a girl. Gender dysphoria is a real thing. Asking a girl to enter into a guy-exclusive area is asking her to be both uncomfortable and borderline unsafe. I suffer from worse and worse panic attacks each and every one of the few times I cannot manage to evade, and am left a trembling wreck afterwards.

I shut down. Blue screen of death. Because it's just that hard on me. Because it's just that unpleasant. Because it's just that extreme. Dysphoria doesn't just go away after I leave. It causes my performance as a lifeguard to suffer because almost inherent in dysphoria is an innate link to depression. If I'm cheery before the request, expect that vibrant glow in me to literally die the moment it is made.

...On a loosely-work-related note: prior to working, I did a walk, then a jog. The jog hit at pulse rate of over 170--which for someone of my age is apparently approximately between 85-90% of what they should be doing. This at four miles an hour. (I suppose that does at least mean it was not in fact a linear increase from 2 mph walking.) Nooooot exactly the healthiest.

...And I have to admit I've been put to shame.

Today I saw my younger sister (twice!) before going inside, while I was doing my outside-walk. She was running around Lake Tye the opposite direction of me. I mean. I knew her job and a few prior jobs were physically strenuous, so she had at least some physical fitness from that. But I didn't know that she was actually actively staying in shape on her own time.

I mean. Today's Fathers' Day, so surely it was a one-time thing, right? Well, the time and especially location, sure. If she ran around the lake every Sunday morning, I'd know about it given I walk around the lake and I would even if not seeing her spot her car.

But I know that this isn't a one-off thing, and that she does the activity on a reasonably-frequent basis. How? Well for a start...she was wearing dedicated running gear. Running with her phone and earbuds, having her fitbit, sports clothing, even having her hair in the style I remember most girls with her hair length wearing their hair like when they were doing running. (So, a runner's hairstyle.)

...Also. She, uh. Was going fast. As in. She was running at least 6 miles per hour if not 7 or even 8, fast. And she was doing so effortlessly. I mean. She WAS breaking a sweat, and I could hear heavier-than-normal breathing. But while it was a proper workout, it was still obviously casual and not strenuous.

...Yet still fast. And I know it was her. Because I saw her face not once but twice (the first time I almost did a double-take and was like, "waitwhat?"), and she also saw me and acknowledged me. If that wasn't enough, after the first sighting of her, I spotted her car so no chance of a lookalike that for some reason would acknowledge me. It was her.

...I was under the impression the last physical activity she did was her time contemporary to mine, that being, track/cross-country/swimming which by now was five years ago. I mean. I've tried (and failed) to be physically active beyond work/Tae Kwon Do. But I've at least done a fair amount, so I thought that only my brother was surpassing me since he's the only one in our family to have clearly unambiguously succeeded. (You can just look at him and know he works out; not so much for any of the rest of us.)

Apparently not though, because my younger sister is obviously just from a quick glance at her, in better physical condition than I am, at least in terms of running. WELP.

​I'm the underachiever of the family, it would seem. My older sister might be in worse shape than I am, and she makes a comparable sum of income to me (whereas my brother makes a bundleload and my younger sister is slowly working her way to a steady, higher income even if she's not quite there yet), however, she by FAR exceeds me in basically all other aspects.

She progresses in about every way possible in fencing, whereas I've stagnated if not regressed in Tae Kwon Do. She has a real-life social circle (more than one in fact!); I don't. And she actually is productive and makes stuff; I'm not really writing OR drawing.

It's not that I'm wasting my life. The things I do do matter. But I'm the only sibling whose success isn't tangible. My brother's success is obvious both in his physique and his standing in society. (He's actually not struggling financially for a start.) My younger sister's only getting started yet she's still had the most social life of any of us and is slowly working her way to being on better ground. My older sister might not be well-off financially but she still is largely self-sufficient and has a very broad, encompassing life with contacts and connections so she never has real problems aside from money.

I...
...Don't have anything like that.

Now, admittedly. I still have successes. I know that, I don't need to be told that. For starters, I actually have a significant other. I mean. That's not something exactly unique to me. My younger sister has dated several people. (My mom suspects she may have or have had a girlfriend even and that she's bi--I'm not so sure about labeling her as bi, but I certainly wouldn't be surprised if at the very least she's not straight.)

However, from my limited understanding (I don't know the details), there's a reason it's "several", in that nothing has really lasted. (That I am aware of--there could be but I don't know for sure.) It's also possible my brother has someone but if so he's secretive about it and refuses to let us know about it. I'm pretty sure my older sister doesn't have anyone since I imagine she would tell us, though it's possible given she's described at least one good friend she is close to. (I don't think so though.)

That, not even going into how I genuinely feel like I'm making a positive difference in people's lives. I love people. I love my significant other even more than that and they give me the strength to keep loving people and giving more than I was before.

The achievements of my siblings might be tangible, and something unique to them, something which can be classified as something that they have done which has been good for them. But while mine are intangible, what makes them so special is that they aren't directly related to me.

My achievements all have to do with me giving to others. My achievements are me having done something which is good for another, even if not myself. And on that note...perhaps my greatest achievement of all is actually in how I have sacrificed chances at achievement.

I've passed up on many paths which would personally be more rewarding on a selfish and even an objective basis. And yet, I've given up on those, all for the sake of my love. (And I mean that in both senses. I have given up a lot for everyone I care for. And I would give up literally everything for the sake of the one I love, my significant other.)

I want to believe that, in of itself, is an achievement. That my ability to NOT succeed is something special, because my lack of success is driven by altruism, by genuinely doing what I feel is right no matter the personal cost. I want that to be something which isn't easy because I want it to be something that I can claim, even though I know it really shouldn't be, because who'd even want to claim it?

...That being said. It's not like I'm permanently locked into a status of being an underperformer. (I mean I probably will be my entire life if I'm honest because to some extent I think I actually like it. It sounds bad to say, but. There is a certain beauty in there always being more, there always being someone better, there always being someone I need.)

It is thoughts like this I tend to cling to, since the alternative is thinking myself just a failure--I can't do that. Recognizing a lack of success can be helpful, but I just. Don't see this as one of those times. I CAN'T fail. Not because it's impossible. Because if I ever admitted I had, then all that'd be left is a broken, hollow, empty shell. So I hope it's not arrogance to think I'm doing good. I hope it's true. Because without that, without the sense of my life having meaning in giving others happiness...I'd be...literally nothing. And I don't want to ever be that pathetic. Ever.

Anyway. I realize this is a bit of a heavy philosophical ramble (apologies!), but it is what it is.
Tonight will be a family night. Expected watch: Sherlock. Dinner? Harder for me to predict. Could be at home, could be at Denny's. Regardless, I imagine I'm in for some interesting banter with my sister, but we'll have to see. I'm out of time to write this, meaning that's all for now, folks.

Rather, I know more or less where it is, I just can't actually find it. It's in the general vicinity of the desktop area. But it hit the floor and I can't find where it did so, so...I lost it. I mean. I could search for it now, but. It's past midnight. I work tomorrow. As in, 6 AM, work tomorrow. So...I kinda sorta shouldn't so much as be making this entry, yet alone, actually spending time searching.

​WELP.

Why? Well, aside from being depressed, I suspect I'm going to be really, REALLY emotionally drained today. So with me mentally and emotionally stressed, just about the only thing I wouldn't be is physically stressed, right? Uh...right? (Welp.)

...Yeaaaaah, aboooout thaaat......

...Suffice to say, sorry, but that's going to be the worst of them all. I couldn't sleep last night. At all. I was tossing and turning all night long. The few times I entered dreams, they were lucid nightmares, in that they were all...bad. Tragedies would be an understatement.

Bad things happening, one after another, with me powerless to do anything. And any time I became aware I was dreaming (keep in mind these dreams were SO realistic I thought them real: I had all five senses, I was thinking, I was FEELING, so for all intents and purposes, it was reality and a very unpleasant one), I was launched out of the dream, to toss and turn some more.

No relief out of the dream, no relief in the dream, with the dream being actually worse than reality and yet reality being so bad that I was still trying to escape to the dream anyway. I wasn't being kept awake because I feared sleep; I was being kept awake because sleep refused to let me in. Or when it did, would make me regret having chosen it.

Dreams are meant to be an escape from reality. Mine were an even worse version of it. I was being psychologically tortured by my own subconscious, as I was miserable awake and even WORSE asleep. There was just...nothing good in this experience at all.

Not only does that mean I'm quite literally restless, but also I have a longer work day ahead of me than normal, an extra hour. I kind-of suspect I might be given a drill today, and that would be the absolute worst timing, yet there's nothing I can do to control that if so, meaning I could end up wet, stressed, tired, fatigued, drained, and pushed beyond my breaking point.

That, not even going into the possibility of being asked to do something I wouldn't want to do, forcing me to experience on top of everything else I'm going through, gender dysphoria. Because just about the ONE saving grace of today is how euphoric I feel and how strongly I'm projecting my female form--and that'd be all too easily shattered.

​All-in-all...not a good time.

I'm in one of those zones where I don't want to do anything at the very least.
I feel neither great nor terrible--thoroughly "okay", is how I've been describing myself today. But the strong inertia I have in regards to doing anything which is actually effortful means that I'm probably fighting a losing battle with depression.

Right now, I don't know what I want to do.
It almost feels like I want to do literally nothing.
That I just want to sit back and do. Absolutely nothing which is anything.

The tasks I've been trying to occupy myself with end faster than I can do much about. I'll get caught up, stuff will happen, then I'll get caught up again, and expect there to be more stuff, only...there isn't. That was it. Forcing me to leave and then feel...empty because I don't have that direction.

Sounds an awful lot like depression to me.

Now, granted.

Things could be much worse--I'm actually doing reasonably okay? I'm not being negative. I'm not being sad. I'm not being destructive. Not angry. Not loathing. Not insecure. Not bad. There's just nothing in me right now which is really a thing I don't think should be there.

The problem is, things could also be much better--I'm doing okay, but not great, because there's not really anything positive today, either. I'm happy when I interact with people. But otherwise I'm just...not really experiencing much positive nor am I doing anything productive.

So today's a so-so day. A "nothing done" day. An empty day, with nothing within.

Meaning, while I could be better, overall I'm at least glad today's not worse.

Whichever me is driving me right now, it is a blissful and content me because I am just right now overwhelmed with a feeling of calmness, serenity, of smoothness and of overall just joy, of happiness and contentment. This, in contrast to the me of last night. I don't have all the memories/experiences of last night. I remember what I did, and I can remember what emotions I had, but I can't remember the connections between them.

It's actually, ironically enough, a little bit like how I describe Black Ruby (Ruby's Dark Messiah/Forbidden Art #3 superform) compared to her normal form, actually. I blogged about that way way way long ago, and at the time while Ruby was in fact based off of me that particular bit I meant as fiction not fact. Yet apparently my subconscious is able to predict me better than I can because it's an apt description.

I'd have to track down my entry on the subject. But basically. I know what I did, more or less. I know most of what I thought. I definitely know the feelings I felt last night much to my horror (because I know exactly what those feelings are and they are feelings which go beyond emotions I know words for. Think something akin to bitterness mixed with rage, wrath, hatred, anger, a desire to lash out, loathing, contempt, and feeling slighted and I don't know any single emotion which is all of those combined: a pound to the heart, instinctively going into fight-or-flight and choosing the former--it's not a pleasant thing).

...But I can't connect the dots between the three. It both feels like something which is real, and something which I was imagining. It both feels like it's truth, and yet a lie. Because it both feels like it was me, and yet it wasn't me. So it'd be more accurate to say it was a me, it just wasn't a very pleasant me.

I'm not gonna lie and say that I'm a bed of roses right now (there's still lingering emotions from last night I call forth whenever I think about me in that mindset), but I do overall just have that feeling of...love. Love of the world. Love of the moment. (This is a biggie.) Love of the situation I'm in. Love of others. Extra love to my significant other who I am going to miss talking to. (I'd cheat and go talk to them while I'm at school, but while they would emotionally enjoy that, they would rationally not want me to do that and overall their rational side is stronger than their emotional side so I don't want to upset the rational side and as a result, I'll just have to resist.) And even love of myself.

A liiiiiittle bit saddened at me having failed to be better. My being that me of last night was something I was actively working to not do, so in that sense I slipped. I got in my head an idea that I had to do things even knowing that my mindset was worsening as the night progressed rather than getting better. (And not worsening due to degradation of cognitive function thanks to the hour. Just worsening on an emotional level.)

But while perhaps regretful or even remorseful. I'm not actually loathing myself for having gotten into that place. It's not what I wanted, it's something slightly shameful, it's something I might have a slight fear of, but it's not something which right now I'm really worried about. I'm just...in a zone right now. An emotionally mature, mentally mature, adult mother zone where I feel like I just know myself and know it is good.

Now. As for the rest of my day. I ended up waking up early. We're talking, 11ish early...and that's after the denial of me having been awake, so really 10ish. (This, in spite of me staying up until 4:30...and not really getting to sleep until almost five.) Yeah, I know. That's not much sleep. I took an hour nap though to help a little bit. And it's not my fault. I didn't set a timer. That's just the time my body woke me up.

Maybe outside stimulus played a part (I honestly don't remember), but that's the time I was woken up like it or not. Thaaaaaat...probably means I'll be exhausted by the end of the day, buthey. Today's the last day of college. A little tiredness is worth it. As is a little hunger, since all I had was the edible parts of three eggs for breakfast and that means I'll basically be going 8-10 hours without a meal. (God I hope my family makes me something even though I doubt they will because after being tired I'll probably be in no mood to be creative.)

I'll survive, is what I'm saying. It might be a bit unpleasant, but this is the last time, so no more worrying for me will be necessary. But anyway. I also got my car back today. The downsides? Bad radio. (My car has no antennae and thus has static everywhere and almost no actual music. The fix to the car did seem to make it better though weirdly enough.) Less storage space for stuff; awkward retrieval of stuff.

Not having a door which actually locks when my car is parked in a rather shady location. (Everett...isn't really the greatest of places. It's not really safe. You see lots of signs of it everywhere, from the type of people walking around to the state of things to the advertisements on boards to horror stories of the area.)

And having it be a smaller car means that in order to sit at the location I want to (basically all the way forward), my head rams straight into the top of the car, because the wagon is meant for either shorter people or for taller people to sit further back. (It apparently never occurred to people that a tall person might actually want less leg room, not more.) In contrast, the 4runner is big and bulky and thus it's basically impossible to run into that problem.

The upsides? Literally everything else; I think perhaps part of the reason I'm in such a calm mood today is simply because of just how smooth my ride was today. (Car driving can really set the tone for the day.) It's a little difficult to say if I was in a good mood and thus drove like it or if I drove in a way which created the good mood, though it doesn't matter in the end. (Honestly I think it might be a bit of both, in a self-feeding loop of sorts.)

The car handled beautifully. The steering was great, the acceleration/deceleration were the best they've been in a long time, the radio was clearer than it has been, it was just a calming feeling I suppose to be in that car and driving it in a relatively safe way.

Anyway. I'm at school and should be working.

My immediate to-do list:
-Make an MS Paint sketch of my cup
-Make the power point presentation for my project
-Finish the drawing for my project
-BS a way to make this seem harder than it was
-Maybe mention what I failed to do and what I learned from the failures
-Do all the parts for the quarter in a fraction of the original time and then do drawings of them
*Print the drawings I haven't already done
-Print the drawing for my project
-Ask my assistant instructor about maybe 3-D printing my project

...It's a lot to do but I have a lot of time, so. I'm not all too concerned.
Wish me luck! (I might need it since I am notoriously prone to distractions.)

...And I had rather the experience. Upon arriving at the location we hold class inside, I was greeted by a worse sight than a warzone. A battlefield of absolute horror which I'm sure had me making rather the face at the sheer terror of the sight. What, pray tell, was awaiting me?

...Tweenaged girls playing.

BOY do they know how to traumatize the person who has only minutes left before they begin teaching and are going to be by default the one to clean everything up. (It's part of what I just do as an assistant instructor; I clean the room up and tidy things so that our class doesn't have distractions.)

...To their credit. They did start cleanup once they realized that, yes, there was a class coming in ten minutes. But dang girls, do they know how to make a mess. I'm oh so glad they also know how to clean one up, but I sure had no way of knowing they would in advance so I was sitting there worried that their big huge mess was about to become my big huge mess. And it was a relief it was (mostly) not.

That does give me ideas for why so many magical girls tend to be that age though. One of the main factors about magical girls--nigh universal--is how they tend to upset the status quo. They disrupt the natural balance of things. They interfere with plans in motion. They change the course of reality. They are agents of chaos in a sense, because an incredibly common trait they possess is a strong belief in the freedom of choice and whatnot.

And it's at that age where you get that trait at its strongest. That's also the magical time where there's the highest balance of the imagination and idealism of childhood and yet the maturity, responsibility, and wisdom of adulthood. They have a fair idea of what's right and what's wrong, they have at least a reasonable ability to know how to prevent from being led astray, and yet they still inspire in others an innate sense of goodness and innocence because they genuinely believe in a better world.

So that thought was a nice one. It's something I'm a little sad I largely missed out on. Unless, of course. You count me as I currently am as being in that state. Because, after all...I've only known I was a girl for three and a half years. I've had somewhat-stunted growth, and I'm still growing as a person on every level. I personally think I'm probably a little too far past that point, sadly, (I've got too much cynicism within me, too much bitterness within me, and too much perversion/darkness/sadness within me--it'd probably be more accurate to say I'm emotionally a teenager than a tweenager or a child in spite of me being 23) but you could make the argument all the same.

Butyeah. While I'm sad I mostly missed out on it, I was still happy to see them do their thing. Able of making a mess, yet equally able to clean it up. Childish, playful, full of life and energy, yet having the responsibility and respect to know about the weight of their actions and what to do about them. That's something we should always strive for.

One of these days I will make an entry which is not past midnight.
This day is not that day.

I've been doing a lot of stuff.
Like.
I'm pretty sure the only assignment I've got left to do in my class is my final project. (Which I've done most of the work for already.)

I might need to do some extra stuff there and make it look more impressive than it is (the main thing about it is: what I have didn't take me long to get; what I don't have is all the dozens of wasted hours I spent trying to do things which ultimately didn't work, so it looks deceptively simple because what I have isn't much because I spent most of my time trying to make it more and yet every step of the way failing).

But I've at least got the vague makings of what I have to do.

It might ultimately not be what I wanted--but it'll still be something.

I've also been getting increasingly more and more involved in mafia stuff. Not just games, but the community, too.
I'll admit it's hard to keep up on everything and there's vital threads I'm behind on. (Including games.) Which I can't tackle tonight but will try to tomorrow.

...Yet I feel like.
I actually feel like it's rewarding?

I just.
I feel more alive.

I feel swamped.
I feel busy.

I'm not giving my significant other nearly the levels of love and devotion and care they deserve. (Especially considering how much we are interacting on there in that game environment.) So that, that I need to change. But otherwise. I just.

I feel like I'm actually making a difference and being a positive influence.
And every time I step away I find myself wanting to do even more.

Not out of a sense of addiction.
Not out of a sense of selfish gain, of me getting something out of it.

Out of a feeling that it is something I should do.