Absolutely no trigger for it at all. So when it hit,I basically was like, "well this is something". Something, not a good thing. Wondering what the heck was wrong with me, because clearly there was and still is something wrong. I've still got no idea whatsoever what it'd be. Not a clue. But there's that negativity there and it's there for absolutely no reason which...kinda sucks.
...But after I had finished class, I could feel what almost felt like pain. My face was solidly neutral. I was having positive thoughts, but my body wasn't actually responding--no ability to smile at all. It's like I went limp, like I went dead all of a sudden. I felt like there was a strong negative emotion overwhelming me, and yet, there was none which had any reason to be present even remotely.
Absolutely no trigger for it at all. So when it hit,I basically was like, "well this is something". Something, not a good thing. Wondering what the heck was wrong with me, because clearly there was and still is something wrong. I've still got no idea whatsoever what it'd be. Not a clue. But there's that negativity there and it's there for absolutely no reason which...kinda sucks.
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Quite a bit of work to do. That feeling of life stuckness I had before? Well I just got a kick to move. This will probably, realistically, reduce my availability in terms of doing things I really want to do. (Like worldbuilding for my latest project.) That's a sad side-effect of adulting.
But, hey. It's responsibility. (Funny thing is...I was, when I was young, in the mindset where I swore I would never grow up: I knew my body would age, and I knew my life would change, but I promised not to grow up. Horrifically, as an adult...I feel like I succeeded. As in...I have many many many childlike aspects about me: naivety, imagination, immature emotions, fragility, frailty, lack of understanding of the world around me, and yes. Lack of responsibility. Kids half my age can usually manage their daily lives better than I can, because they're on the road to learning things like jobs, work, and whatnot, having conquered things like what to eat and hygiene. Not so with me!) And responsibility is a good thing. Sad thing, sure, yeah. But good thing. It's a good sadness. It's an important sadness. But anyway. This change was spurned on by my counseling appointment, which my mom came along for. My mom has some misunderstandings, my counselor doesn't know my full life, and between those two there's not perfect communication, but they did share insight which the other didn't have, allowing between the two an effective brainstorm of, "this might actually be a good thing"! Among them, a previously-mentioned idea of going back to college and getting a good education out of it to keep my skills sharp, not to mention, to network to the current individuals in the field. (My contacts are two years stale.) Yet this, while good and productive in of itself, would serve as the perfect excuse for a ruse, of sorts: my college has a !cishet support group, apparently, and both my mom and my counselor have been encouraging me to network with people in real life. Now, neither knows (at least I don't think either knows) that I've actually met with an online contact in real life, but it only happened once (and I am a complete abysmal utter failure at followthrough since they offered to do so again and I even accepted the offer but while they sent the info on times/dates we could meet I never got back to them which is a stupidity on my part and since they are a blog reader I can tell them I am deeply sorry about that; in a sense you could say I stood them up), and both my mom and counselor agree I need something regular. I did have the NaNoWriMo meetup (which both know a little about), but that's the closest I've gotten to networking--and I didn't really follow through on that, either. So basically, what the plan is, is to force me into something where I will follow through. I have a decent record at starting to explore on my own--quite an excellent one, in fact. I have almost as low as possible a record on actually keeping on track and following through on my own. Sometimes, I do; most times, I don't. Out of all the promises I've made, whether to others or to myself, I'm pretty sure that I've got a 95-5 split between failure-success at minimum. (Granted, part of the problem there is that I have a tendency to make a lot of promises, often unrealistic ones, but that's arguably one of my most noble traits and I'd rather not lose it. I don't want to break promises, but ideally I do so by honoring them/succeeding, rather than by simply not making promises.) Basically: this has been a self-feeding cycle. I needed a push to get going. I lacked people to give it to me. So I sought people out, initially, that would help give me the push. But because I didn't have them and still don't, I wasn't given the push to follow through on that initial search and thus I didn't get going, rendering me needing a push to get going because I lacked people to give it to me... ...You get the idea. This is making effort to break the cycle, to give me those people and that network to force me to have those pushes. This is not something easy to do, but I have just enough support where I might be able to actually get it done. Another thing I was given was a printout of DVR (Division of Vocational Rehabilitation), which is basically next on my to-do list. I don't know exactly how broad that program is, if it's international, across the country, or just a my-state thing. I suspect that even if it's just a my-state thing, that something similar exists not only across the country but also internationally, just with the exact specifics changing from place to place. To describe what DVR is because I'm assuming until I have evidence otherwise this is a my-state thing (and I'm pretty sure the number of readers on my blog from my own state of Washington can be counted on one hand--maybe even one finger), basically, it's for people with disabilities (which between autism and bipolar disorder just among the absolutely confirmed ones I definitely qualify for), to help provide them with services to get/keep jobs. While I do technically have a job (one reason my mom didn't think of this), there's apparently no rule saying you're disqualified just because you work four hours a week at a part-time minimum-wage job you've held for years. (Well, technically, 75 cents above minimum wage for me. And this being Washington, that's a pretty dang high minimum.) The hope there is that because it's easily shown that, yes, I have a disability, and yes, I have a proven difficulty with work, so that they can help me, giving me the resources I need to be independent, the ultimate goal. (Because, yeah. I need to be independent.) I'm sure there's a ton more, but I can't think of it. My mind's flooded, overwhelmed, by the info processing, so I suppose this will have to do, aside from a final disclaimer. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I've begun tagging categories for my blog entries--but I don't always do this consistently, nor is this a retroactive thing. Meaning, you're only going to see tagged the entries I've made on a subject since having started the tagging, something I've been doing...well, not very long. A couple weeks or so? Some limited time thing like that. If I think of anything else, I'll make a follow-through entry. And still not sleeping well. In spite of going to bed early enough to get plenty of sleep, I know for a fact I was not actually asleep for a significant portion of it, because I was tossing and turning and coughing. (Oddly enough, I think it's worse on my left side, which is the side I normally sleep on; there seemed to be less coughing when on my right.) I was feeling better a bit before work, but then I just kept getting worse and worse at work and especially after work.
Yesterday, with my brother over for anime (we don't really have to worry about the midnight deadline anymore, what with the entire lack of cable TV altogether now), we finished Ajin. From my understanding, the anime diverges from the manga at some point, so will probably have to start reading the manga eventually, but it can wait. We still had plenty of time (though my brother did eventually leave thanks to concern about the snow), so we started watching Saga of Tanya the Evil--we watched all seven episodes that have been released (we skipped 6.5 which doesn't really count as an episode), and are thoroughly hooked. Hmm, anything else? Probably, but not much I can really think of, unfortunately. It was snowy this morning, I suppose--very snowy. Like, at least an inch if not two or more, and even the main roads were filled with snow. But by the time I drove home, it was all melted, even on the downhill portion of our private road, which is infamous for having...been stubborn to do so. I guess that's it. Sorry, thought I'd have more to talk about. What I really could use right now is a nice, long nap--so I think I'll be indulging in that. Helped out with a tae kwon do test today, and it's family night tonight. Mostly recovered from my sickness, but still lingering effects. We watched Die Hard 3. There's stuff to talk about, but I can't discuss much.
It's quite the miserable thing to have. I basically didn't sleep at all. Well, I sort-of did. I had a persistent dream of sorts, which I kept on having every time I would wake up, which would happen every couple of hours or so. Where basically, some game attributes would be applied to real-life, and a consequence of the game's attributes being what they were forced me to suffer the way I was.
I had poor digestion, which may or may not be the sickness but certainly made it worse. Heating was an issue: too hot, too cold, changing for no reason. I took cough drops out of absolute desperation--at first I wasn't planning on them. Then, one available if necessary. Then, one taken with a backup, if needed. Then two. Then three. Then, one every single time I was waking up, because I was still in the gutter. I finally gave up around ten or so and moved out to the living room, where I slept some more. And more. And I kept on sleeping. Until 3. It wasn't solid sleep. But it was more solid. It was still painful. It was still unpleasant. My back became sore, for instance. So too did my neck. Heating remained an issue. But I at least felt rested--not recovered. Not well. Not rejuvenated. But not dead-tired. Still notably sick, though. Still, with nobody home, I decided to practice singing to songs. See, I started the day with absolutely no voice. None at all. Not even the ability to form a coherent sentence. Not even the super-low voice that you associate with being sick. It was so bad I couldn't speak coherently at all. But with enough coughing and hacking to the lyrics of songs I surely butchered, I actually got it to be passable--even fairly normalized. Normally, if I have a sickness voice, the sickness voice is what gives away that I am sick. Here, today, the tipoff was an increased rate of coughing, along with the knowledge I had been coughing during the night. But it wasn't the voice, because I had actually recovered it. My sore throat, which was horrendously bad before, has recovered as well, too, butstill, I am most definitely sick and still need more sleep. A lot more sleep. I'm trying every other remedy already, essentially. (Well, aside from shoving down extra vitamin/mineral pills down my throat, but I can't actually find them, so...doing everything I can given the resources I can locate.) Sleep remains a problem--it was how I got sick in the first place. But it's also my solution, and I have faith that I will be able to get what I need, and fully recover. The tune is blatantly plagiarizing from some song that I occasionally hear especially on resurrection Sundays (maybe even an end session? Though less sure of that), and heck, who knows, I might have stolen some of the words even, too. I don't have the verses, I just kinda intuitively felt out a chorus, so I decided I might as well share.
Fair warning: it's a pretty depressive song. Memories, A better time, A better life, I left behind. I didn't need, A way that's kind, A way that's light, Or any fights. I couldn't bleed, I couldn't lie, I couldn't find What was mine. Now I'm free, Now I'm fine, Now I die, I say goodbye. I dunno why, but it does have an appeal to it lyrically. Probably thanks to it being plagiarized from a source I don't know, since, well, duh, anything I steal is obviously going to be of a higher quality than anything I would naturally make. So I thought that maybe the playground would be a good meeting place. I don't know how I knew that, but I just kinda...did. As in, I held the impression the playground in the dream was an important place, where I could continuously go back to.
The oddest thing about it: when my eyes are open, in my mind's eye, I can see the playground perfectly: I feel like a nonexistent entity, a ghost/spirit observing without interacting--someone who sees everything and influences nothing. Or even a god of this realm, if you'd like to take it that far. Yet...when I actually close my eyes and try to envision the playground, it's as if I have an actual body in there--I am a person. But because I'm still awake, the me in there is having trouble seeing things. There's this black haze. You know the stereotypical look of black haze, seen in basically every media, often featuring blurs, to represent a character slowly regaining conscious awareness of their environment? It's that. Quite literally, that. I can vaguely tell that I am in a female body. I can see hands, which are mine. I can't really tell anything else about me when I enter the playground. I entered there thinking that maybe, maybe I could sit back and just watch the residents of the playground (which I was hoping would be the two girls) talk. But since I'm actually there now, that's...well, different. Interesting facet of the dream playground: everyone there is in their teenage years. I left my teens years ago. But I think that deep down, that's the age I feel like on every level: not an adult. Not fully grown. Not a child, either. But a teenager. Exact age varying. One person I saw in there was a young, 13-15 or so boy, who was friendly and wise: I felt like I have known him for a very long time. This boy, wise beyond his years, was there to help. He had someone who I felt was an older brother. This older brother, at least 1-2 years older than his sibling, was a cynical jerk--but not without sympathy, just brutal honesty with a harsh tinted view of reality. He didn't actually say anything with malice. The strangest feeling is, I saw them fairly clearly, and felt like those two were the two entities I often talk to, the other voices within my head. (The older one being the one who I have always called David, the younger one whose name has varied as I'm not sure what he's called.) I know it's strange. But I really feel like that playground inside my subconscious might be a hub of sorts--the place where all of my selves interact, meet, talk, share experiences, share emotions, share perspectives, share thoughts, and so on and so forth. It might sound silly to you. But this place just feels...special. It involved two peculiar girls befriending each other. Both were the same age, in their teenage years. They had different friends and one had a family whereas the other did not. One was slightly taller than the other. One had red hair, the other had pink hair. Both had a fairly light skin complexion. They met each other on a playground, where they quickly became close to one another.
The more they interacted with each other, the more they became confused: some ways they were acting weren't as they normally would. Some of their memories which were rock-solid began to shift. They knew things they shouldn't know, and things they should know they were not remembering. Their other friends around them, before even they do, began to suspect that they may have once been the same person--and as it turns out, they later find out through an accidental fusion that is in fact the case: they are, together, a magical girl. She split off for reasons they can't quite remember, but which vaguely involve protection, most likely, that of others. The memories of others were altered slightly to accommodate for this, with them naturally building up once they had that base to be legitimate friendships, even family. (One of the girls was an orphan though. After the knowledge is revealed, it's theorized this girl was the 'split', and that the other girl's family is the original magical girl's family, just with their memories altered to be for the split girl rather than the original girl.) This, alone, would be a fascinating concept, probably worthy of a story. But for me, there is a natural, obvious, deeper meaning to this dream, and that's obvious to any who are binge-readers or long-time followers. (Or, those who just so happen to have seen me as both names and know that I am both of them.) Basically, I think that dream was more or less my representation of Ranger and mastina: how they are two different entities, different people with different experiences and even different friends, yet part of a greater entity, and work together out of necessity for this force that is greater than both of them. And that's why the dream was so precious to me. It gave me the feeling of me still being alive--all of me. Not just half of me, because that's been a bit of an inner fear of mine, not one which I've expressed. I've been worried that Ranger was dieing. I've been worried that she's slowly been fading away. But no. She's still there, as strong as ever, even if she isn't making her presence known to others as much as she used to. That makes me happy, that makes me glad. She's a part of me. I don't know how large of a part. I don't know what exactly she is, and what exactly I am in relationship to her. But we're both there. We both exist. We both have a purpose. We might not know what said purpose, exactly, is, but we know it is there. That being, for my next novel-which-is-technically-a-game. It's reigniting my love for the spiritual, as it touches on some fairly deep, meaningful subjects and is pretty in-depth. I'm loving what I'm writing and I'm loving what I'm reading, being put in high spirits and also having the urge to dabble in astrology. It's just a bundleload of fun.
Time-consuming! I spent five hours or so today on research, and I need to do that same level a little over ten more times. (So yes. Fifty hours or so.) But good. Really good. I hope others enjoy it as much as I do, because it's going to be a blast. |
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