Mind you, I chose that wording carefully because while I'm not as bad as I was yesterday, this is more a reversion to be what I was two days ago--that being, still depressed, just...not as painfully so. I am still down and can feel that I am quite down, I just am not as horrifically down as I was yesterday.

I'm not upbeat, I'm not energetic, I'm still fairly lethargic, I'm down, and I'm just not enthused by most things, but I'm at least at the point of feeling like I can live, whereas yesterday was actually kinda DANGEROUS levels of low.

Soyeah. Not gonna lie. I could be better. I could be much, much better. I would love to be absolutely entirely better than where I am at right now. I even kinda have an inkling of a desire to be inspired, a desire to work on something, a desire to be passionate, so maybe I'm on the rebound.

...But I know I'm not recovered yet, because while there's that small portion of desire, it's not actually focused on anything. If my lack of focus were because of too many things, I'd know I'd be recovered, but my lack of focus here is because there is no thing. No single thing, and no more-than-one thing. Just nothing. 

I have the desire to be inspired, which is good, but nothing actually inspiring me, which is not as good. In actuality, I feel like I can kinda sorta express where I'm at with this, kinda sorta. I feel like what I want to do isn't so much as work on anything, so much as I want to talk about something. On here. On my blog.

I want my blog to basically, were it to actually have readership (which I know it doesn't, stats be damned, because I know there's no way that I'm getting at-lowest 30 readers a day, at-highest 110 readers a day; I'd expect maybe one tenth of those to be real, 3-11 people per day).

If people were actually reading what I was writing. For it to actually be something that was inspiring to them. That was uplifting to them. I need not write uplifting content myself. My blog entry could be entirely a long entry about why my day sucked, but what I kinda want is that if people actually read my blog, for them to actually have some thorough enjoyment, entertainment, enrichment, enlightenment, from it.

You know.

Basically.

It's the same dream I had when I first became a writer which kept me being a writer for all those years that I was a writer.
It's the same dream I have for being a webcomic artist, and for sharing Phyrra and Cyrus with the rest of the world, even after having had the writer within me be basically dead for novelwriting.

It's to have others feel the same way about what I wrote, that I feel about things that I read. You know how I go on about all these things that enriched my life? How Dan Shive was a massive inspiration to me once I read his work. How Grrr Power was a massive inspiration to me once I read the comic (okay admittedly you never got the full blog entry there but you did get a part of it).

How Worm was an incredibly uplifting, inspirational, piece of work in spite of it being incredibly dark, just because it represented how you can do so much and make a work so incredible online using just sheer willpower combined with clever planning basically, determination combined with competent storyboarding, to lay out a guideline to a plot.

And so on and so forth.

That's been going on since I was a kid. When I was young, I saw that Eragon was published by a person when they were a teenager--I knew that the Inheritance Cycle was, objectively speaking, not a too terribly well-written book series filled to the brim with flaws, but the inspiring fact about it wasn't the quality of the books (which I felt were entertaining in spite of being flawed; think basically "like most mainstream films these days" which are absolute junk in so many ways but can still be mindless entertainment that you get creative ideas from).

It was that a teenager managed to write, then successfully sell, the book he wrote. The books sold, and they sold well. That they sold so well, no matter what you think of the quality of the material, means that the author did something right. Same principle applies to the Twilight Saga. I enjoyed reading it, and the books sold well. I objectively know about all of the flaws in the series which have been pointed out to the point of being old, boring news.

Everyone knows the books are objectively junk--but they were still enthralling enough to be an enjoyable read in spite of knowing all the flaws therein, and the books still sold incredibly well. You can say whatever you'd like about the author; you can say whatever you'd like about the quality of the books. But the fact that they sold incredibly well, combined with my subjective experience of enjoying them in spite of knowing that they were flawed. Means that you have to acknowledge that objectively, she did something right.

She was able to sell something that was flawed, and make people buy it in spite of its flaws, and even enjoy it knowing all of what is flawed within. For all the flaws of the writing you can find, the fact that it had that effect, again, means that there was something being done right.

And that's the effect which has always been inspiring to me as a writer. Knowing that in spite of the flaws of the writing, it is still possible to make a product that people genuinely enjoy, and can derive entertainment from. More than that! That they can be enriched in their lives from having read a work in spite of the flaws of that work. That they can be inspired, that they can be uplifted, to the point where they dream big and can maybe do something that they otherwise wouldn't.

In other words.

My dream of dreams is basically. To be able to have it so that I do for others, what others have done for me, throughout my life. Picked me up, made me stronger, made me more enriched, made me more inspired, made me the dreamer that I am. I want to make other people dream. I want to make others be picked up by what I do.

And right now the only way I have of doing that is through the one thing that I've never consistently failed at for the longest time of anything I've worked on. Which is my blog. Yes, I occasionally for whatever reason miss an entry in spite of the aim to be a daily blog. But the simple fact of the matter is. By and large. For four and a half years.

I've kept this going.

Do you know what else I've kept going for four and a half years?

Pretty much nothing.
Nothing that's me, at least.
Sure, job; tae kwon do; dancing; counseling. Stuff like that, been doing longer than four and a half years. But it doesn't really count as being me. Those things are a part of me, but they aren't a part of my expression of me.

Every dance I try to write, I don't finish.
Every time I take up songwriting I never go anywhere with it.
Every time I try to compose music, I keep it in my head and do nothing with it.
Every time I write a story, I never end up following through with it and publishing it.
Every time I start a webcomic, I end up abandoning it, even after having taken precautions against abandoning it.
Every time I work on a project, I end up abandoning it, even after knowing about my bipolar disorder and taking steps to counteract it.

I have listened to uplifting speech after uplifting speech. People who succeed say the same cliched lines about why they succeeded, not because it's a cliche, but because the cliche is cliche because it is true to reality and they all say the same thing because the same thing held true for each of them. I forget the exact words, but something along the lines of willpower being temporary, of how the drive to work is temporary, but you need to keep doing it, keep efforting at it, even when you don't feel like it, force your way through it, keep at it, and if you really want it, you will put in the work necessary to get it done.

More or less, something along those lines at least. And I have tried to implement that advice before--tried...and failed. I have, consistently, failed. In spite of knowing about the autistic concept of inertia. I know that once I get rolling I can keep things rolling but that when they screech to a halt they stay stopped with a near-impossibility to get started again. I take measures to prevent the stop, and even if the stop happens, I tell myself that I have the strength of will to push the stopped train, inch by inch, until it's moving again.

...But I never actually do and all the planning in the world falls apart because I, frankly, just suck. I dream. I dream the dream, I never bring the dream to reality. For all of those things. For all of those ideas. They all fail. I've gone into this before, about how while I dream of succeeding, I'm actually happier in my failures, and hypothesize that's why so many people who don't make it big can still be happy and why quite a number of people who do make it big are often not-so-happy in spite of having made it big.

Who knows, maybe that is true. I honestly don't know anymore. I am a contradictory being. Old enough where I'm expected to more or less be solidifying myself, young enough where I can't actually do so and am constantly, consistently, second-guessing every single thing about everything. All my beliefs, all my thoughts on myself, how I view things, everything, I doubt it all and I constantly revise everything including my outlook on life.

But I'm going on a bit of a tangent, there. My point is...I generally am just. A failure in general. Yet this blog is pretty much the one thing which I don't think I have failed at.

I've had plenty of blog entries where I didn't succeed.

I like to pour my heart and soul out every single entry, so when I am forced to blog-dodge for whatever reason. Forced to make an empty, substanceless entry. Forced to make nothing. Or whenever I forget to make an entry. When anything like that happens. Obviously, it's not a success.

But by and large. Four and a half years. Four and a half years, I've been doing this blog. And by and large it actually has succeeded. It hasn't succeeded as often as I'd like. It certainly hasn't succeeded in all the ways I'd hope it'd succeed, in part because those hopes are by and large contradictory. I've wanted different things out of my blog at different times, so of course my blog can't be all of them.

But it's still been most of them, most of the time. Even this entry. It started out as any other would, and yet now has been built up to be something actually unique. And there's the charm, I feel, in my blog writing. There's where I derive some hope from.

I want what I write on this blog. No matter the subject. About me. About me talking about my latest passion project. About whatever caught my fancy. About something I read, something I watched. About whatever I have on my mind when I make a blog entry. I want what I write here to be something that readers can get some enjoyment from.

I want as many people as is possible to read my blog, so that as many people as is possible can find something, anything, in my blog, which made it worth the read. I want a blog which is worth the time and effort to read. After all.

It's four and a half years.
And counting.
Of content.
Filled with entries that are this length and longer.
Like, what's my longest entry? I wouldn't even know, but it'd have to be something probably ten times as long as this already-lengthy blog.

I know that even I can't read all four and a half years of my blog.
I can't even really stand to skim too much of it. I just don't have the time/focus to review it all, even though I know that I'd actually be better off if I did review what I wrote/said from time to time so that things that I said that I didn't want to be forgotten, aren't actually forgotten.

And if I.
The girl who wrote the blog in the first place.
If I.
The person who made the entries in the first place.
If I.
The person who can read 800 pages in a single night and then some.
If I.
The person who could read almost all of Worm in the span of weeks, and then finish the rest in the span of days. When that work is over a million words long by some significant amount.

If I can't do it.

Then I doubt anyone else could. And even if they could, I doubt that they would.

Sure, some people like to stay fairly current on my blog; they read it every day, or if not, they binge-read it every few days, every week, every month, you name it. Some people do that, and can do that. That's not too hard to do; keep current on something updating every day.

But starting from the beginning? Yeahhhhhhh nobody can start from the beginning, read every entry, and get caught up, while having read it all well and truly having read it all. It's impossible.

But believe it or not.

I'm actually kinda proud of that.

It's enough content that it's impossible to keep track of it all.

Instantly that means it's worth more than most other things.

I know that my few readers, such as they are, have changed over the years.
I know that they come and they go.
That I legitimately do have a small readership who stay...but who said readers are that stay, tend to change.
But right now the closest I have to inspiration to do something is...well. Just this. My blog.

At this point, I think that the closest thing I'll ever have to a lasting legacy is in fact this blog.
Not any story I'll write; I won't probably ever publish even though that's been a lifelong dream of mine.
Not any webcomic I'll start; I won't probably ever finish any of them no matter my desire.
Not any ambitious project, e.g. a video game, Phyrra and Cyrus; you actually think that I, me, Bree, could actually have the conviction necessary to see it through, by myself? Nooooooooot a chance in hell. Maybe, maybe, MAYBE with the right support network I could see them through, but that would require that support network be perfectly placed and able to push me in that direction actively and consistently and continuously and to keep me from slacking.

Realistically speaking.
This blog is it.
It's all I'll ever actually have as lasting proof.
Because after I'm gone.
You'll have random scattered notes everywhere about random scattered ideas I had. In bad handwriting, with most of the papers having long-since deteriorated due to whatever various poor conditions they were stored in having withered away the penciling/ink to the point where the already-basically-unreadable writing is turned utterly-illegible. 

The ideas die with me.
And because I will probably never actually get those ideas to reality.
They will never be made. They will always just...disappear, when I (hopefully very very very far away) eventually die.
Which, mind you, I know is morbid and is obviously something which isn't something that many people (including myself) like to dwell on, but is a hard fact of life. Much as we like to dream of being immortal and plan on living forever, everyone including myself dies eventually.

Since I don't want to really ponder on it much further, not going to say more on that than that, but what I'm focusing on is how this blog is basically...well. Assuming it isn't taken down at some point. (Which would really really suck and screw you weebly if you ever do that to me.) It's the proof I was alive. It's the proof I was a person. It's the proof I existed. It's the best insight into my personality, my being, my existence, that will remain. It's the record of who I was as a person.

It's not a perfect record, of course. But it's a lasting insight into who I am--and it is something which is there available for everyone to see. It is available to all, which is one of the things which I've always wanted. I've wanted to share myself with the world. I've wanted to share my being with others, open up and just. Tell them about myself. Tell them anything and everything about me.

Basically lay out my life's story, except for the things about my life that I want to keep private to only me or those that I choose to share those things with. (E.g. things that I tell my girlfriend and only my girlfriend are...pretty self-evidently, going to have a level of intimacy to them.)

This blog is who I am. It's not all of who I am, but it is who I am, as is recorded in time, in history. And I know nobody reads it, in spite of my dreams otherwise. But that doesn't stop the dreams from existing. Of this blog. Of my writing here. Being the thing that I get from others all the time.

Of being something that enriches the lives of those who read it. Of being something worthwhile to have read. Of being something that people actually enjoyed experiencing. Of sharing my visions with others, and those visions having inspired those others, in spite of them having been mine.

I guess that typing this out has made me feel even better than I was before, a little. Because that spark is there. Mind you. Beyond continuing to blog every day, not gonna do anything with it. I could, theoretically, have ways to spread my blog to others. When I comment on webcomics that allow you to link to a site, I deliberately avoid linking to any site including this blog, even though I could easily do so without consequence and have said link theoretically lead to potentially more exposure. Same for comments on Worm; I left a few and had that option, but chose not to take it.

I could theoretically explore post options more; there's options for search engine optimization. There are sites which I have profiles on that don't link to my blog even though both ComicFury and the site I play mafia on contain the blog link; on the ones that don't, I could add it in.

By having an increased presence on other sites, with a link to the blog, I would in theory be able to get an increased number of readers. Heck, all of those are free but if I really wanted to, there are paid options to expand what I can do using weebly's software (paid options which can go to hell as far as I'm concerned; I'm never paying so much as a cent to weebly and if they try to force me to, they can kiss my presence goodbye; I'd find somewhere else to blog).

That I can list these options but am not going to do them tells you what I mean--I could do more with my blog to increase its exposure, and with luck, increase the odds of my dream coming true, of me succeeding in having it be what I dream of dreams it being, of it being uplifting, inspiring, and so on and so forth.

But beyond making entries like this.

I won't actually do that.

So the dream will remain just that, a dream.

​But it's a nice one to have, isn't it?

Am I back to blogging content?

...Ehhh, debatable.

But with luck, I'm on my way there!

The real breakthrough there is...well. I'm back! In a way that I have been longing for.

My desire to make art has been slowly rising. And while the creator within me has been alive and well for a while, the actual writer within me has been fairly dormant.

But today...both explosively grew out until they were bursting out the seams.

I want to make art.
I want to make it badly.
I want to make things.

And more than that.

Something finally happened.

For the first time.

I actually began writing the script for an episode of Phyrra and Cyrus.

Now granted.

I took some shortcuts with descriptions; there are plenty of details which should be there that are absent.
And I only got what I estimate is around 7.5 minutes (with another 30 seconds or so that I didn't have time to write but got worked out) of somewhere around 22 or so minutes. (Every episode, I estimate, will have around 20 minutes of content, with an opener that's around 2 minutes give or take 30 seconds, and a closer that is also 2 minutes give or take 30 seconds placing total episode time at 23-25 minutes; the first episode of the series, however, will have no opener at the beginning, and its closer will be the opener for the first season, as is a sort of tradition for anime.)

So it's not like I suddenly have everything.

But the point is.

I DID IT!

Only part of it, but I did it.

I am taking the first step towards committing to making Phyrra and Cyrus a thing, a thing not living just in my head.

Now granted.
There's still miles to go in conceptual art.

Something I'm considering also doing is storyboarding of sorts, where I'll use pieces of paper to demonstrate thumbnail-style (that being, stick figures if that, making heavy use of text and generally just giving a rough idea) "frames", demonstrating key areas of the episodes.

...I'm probably making trained animators cry with my (absolute lack of) terminology, buthey. I am not a trained animator; I'm not even a trained artist.

I know there's a lot of work to be done.
Concept art.
Storyboarding.
Scriptwriting.

All of these aren't done, and need to be done.
Worldbuilding is mostly done, but I still need to fill in some details like the name of the world, the names of the continents, oceans, countries, and cities visited.

I need to come up with names for background characters, and design them.
I need to finish designing the 13 main characters, 4 main villains, and the 10 underling-villains (1's more solo, 1's a direct underling of the first, 2 are direct underlings of Gunther, and the remaining six are the sins under the final).

For that matter, even the designs for Phyrra and Cyrus could use touching up.

Still.
I have a good idea of what I can, realistically, do, and not do.
I can probably get concept art in tandem with the script and storyboarding good enough where an animator can animate something to match my vision.
I can write a script good enough where a voice actor can speak the lines necessary.

I can probably teach myself how to be an editor. I have absolutely zero skills in this area, and I know it's a skill difficult to master, and will be immensely time-consuming to do, and once I am at the editing stage I'll also be running into "okay, I have everything individually I need to make it reality...now how DO I make it reality with the pieces put together", if that makes sense.

But this is okay, because that's so far in the future that by the time I am anywhere even remotely close to prepared, I'll have the time/effort necessary where I'll be able to put the needed work in and find out exactly what I need, and what I need to do, and so on and so forth. (And if we get to the editing stage, I'll presumably have plenty of people I can call upon for advice, because editing is like...one of the very last steps; if I get to the point where I'll need editing, everything else will be in place which means lots of help having gotten there already. See also, what I can't do.)

I can probably teach myself how to code if I get a site of my own. Multiple people are willing to teach me, too. (Plus, if I have leftover funds from whatever money I'd use to MAKE Phyrra and Cyrus, I can always just pay someone for this.)

There are, however, limits to what I can do.

Realistically speaking, I'm not going to be able to animate Phyrra and Cyrus. I may be able to teach myself how to make animations, but to match my vision requires a level of skill that I simply don't have nor ever will. No school can teach me what I'd need to know. I just know it. This is something you may wonder, but I just have a head for it, in knowing that I won't be able to make Phyrra and Cyrus in a way I am satisfied with if I were to attempt to animate it.

So I need to have an animator. Animators won't work for free, so I need to pay them.

I can finish writing the eight songs that I'll need (four openers, and four closers), but I'll need someone to actually sing them. Some of these I can probably go cheap. Heck, my sisters may be able to sing one or two of them and if I become an editor then I'd be able to edit it into something amazing. But not all of them will be; I will need to hire some people to actually sing.

I probably cannot compose the songs to an extent where I am happy with them. I can do what amounts to a storyboard of a song: give the lyrics, give my horrible singing of the lyrics, give some loose idea in the form of descriptors and maybe some sound for what I'm going for, but that's about all I can do. To get openers and closers to the level I would be satisfied with them, I would need to hire a composer.

Granted, that's actually not too terribly expensive from my understanding, but it IS money I have to have and invest.

And most of all.
I have 13 main characters.
Let's say your average episode needs 5 extra voices.
That's not a perfect estimate, obviously. Some episodes won't need any extra voices. Others may need more than 5. Many will need less than 5. Heck, the main characters aren't all appearing from the first episode (as they're introduced along the way), so it's not like it's 13 voice actors from the onset plus the extras.

But for the sake of a high estimate. Let's say I need 18 characters, every episode.

For a fact, I know that any voice actor that can offer the level of professional voice acting I'm after, needs to be paid. And this, I believe. Isn't that cheap.

​Let's see if I can pull some quick estimates.

​For composers, according to this old article, the two ways I'm most likely to get are % of budget (depends on how much money I raise, then), or a rate per minute. Off of 2011 values, $~425/minute (since I don't know if it'd be 1-5 instruments or 6-11) * 2.5 minutes * 8 = $8,500. And that's from 2011. According to this site, that's ~$9,522.17 now. So a general roundabout figure is probably $10,000.

For just the composer. If I am lucky.

Due to google misinterpreting my search to be for hiring a singer to perform (rather than to compose for you), it's a little difficult to find what the cost of singing is. Presumably, quite high.

For voice actors, I've found a site which I'm presuming is up to date, the question being how relevant it is. I believe it's pertinent though, so according to these numbers, if we assume a worst-case scenario of it being considered a Large Market (when it comes to money I have to spend on Phyrra and Cyrus being a reality...well obviously I want to show it off to as many people as I can, but the more I show it off to, the more it costs to make in the first place, so more people = worse, from a budgeting perspective)...
...Well, that's $118 * 18 * 48 = $101,952 to make.

That's not impossible for me to get. I mean, with an actual job proper rather than minimum-wage lifeguard, I could probably save that amount within 1-3 years. (Of course, if I had 100,000 to spare, my first desire would be to spend it on transitioning because if memory from when I looked at it serves me, $100,000 is just about the cost to fully cover a complete transition start to finish when you add the bills up between psychiatry, pills, doctor appointments, hair removal, and surgery. Those are the bare minimum, but they alone are expensive.)

However, costs for an animator...*shudder*
Hoh boy, if this is to go by, that's gonna suck. I'm presuming it'd be flash animation, butstill. $15 * 60 * 5 * 8 (for the openers), then
$15 * 60 * 20 * 48
= $36,000 + $864,000.

...And that's 2011. Rough estimate of current cost, $967,900.17 + $40,329.17 = $1,008,229.34. Would be over a million dollars to animate.

I can't earn that much.

I'm not sure I can even raise that much.
But that rate was by my understanding an incredibly cheap rate. A cheap rate, in 2011. And I'd need basically a million dollars to pull off 48 episodes.

Frick I'm a whole lot less certain about being able to pull that off.

Animation, up there with voice acting, is the skill I most cannot make Phyrra and Cyrus without outside help on.
And yet, they are singlehandedly the two most expensive parts I'd have in making Phyrra and Cyrus.

But dammit.

I want to make Phyrra and Cyrus real.

Somehow.

I don't know how I can make that much money.
How would I?

Maybe I could find people willing to work for below the market rate.
Maybe.

If I offer them exposure, proper credits and whatnot. Maybe figure out a way where Phyrra and Cyrus would make a profit and offer them a percentage of it. (God I don't want that because honestly I'm not looking to make money from Phyrra and Cyrus and it's quite the opposite I don't really want to make any money from it; I want it to be there for everyone, easily.)

Maybe. Maybe, I could figure out a way of somehow negotiating prices down.

But there has to be a limit to how much I could reduce the prices. I can see. If the animator(s) worked at half market value, potentially. At a stretch. I can maybe, maybe, maybe, MAYBE cover the costs of Phyrra and Cyrus with $500,000.

Which is a range that is maybe, maybe, MAYBE JUST EVER SO MAYBE. Doable with fundraising. 

I don't know how I'm going to make this a reality.
But I'm not going to let this discourage me. It's daunting. It's disheartening in a "this is gonna SUCK" kind of way. But it is not discouraging. I'm still going to make it a reality. I'm still going to figure out how to make Phyrra and Cyrus a real thing. And a real thing, available for free online, with people able to comment on episodes. (For instance, on Youtube. Not necessarily there, but that's an option.)

And yeah I know.

With inflation.

It's only going to get more expensive the longer I wait.

The longer I procrastinate on getting to the part of needing to hire these people.
The more expensive it'll get to actually hire these people.

Yeah, I know.

There's a lot of work to be done before I am anywhere even remotely close to ready.

The things I have yet to do may sound simple when I say them, but as soon as I face them, they become immensely daunting.

Designing about 30 major characters, along with designing numerous extras, plus background characters that may only appear for one split second for one scene as part of a crowd. Names, appearances, what they sound like, what they wear.

Naming every city, every region, every country, every location, visited.

Creating every monster/creature/beast/etc. fought in adventures, designing areas, landscapes, terrain.

Figuring out, second to second, every piece of dialog, every facial expression, every single tone used, to convey the meaning I am intending. Figuring out how every single bit is framed, such that I have a second-by-second playout of how every episode goes, and writing the script allowing this to be shown.

I need to do it all.

I know I can do it.

I am working towards it.

I'm not at the stage, I'd say. Where I need to start trying to get into contact with people to help me get to the places and people who can help me out. Basically. I'm not at the stage where I think I need to begin reaching out to everyone on how to make it a reality, how to get the things I need, and so on and so forth.

There is just oh so much work that I need to have FINISHED before then.

And it is all writing and art, pretty much.

It is all the two things within me that were dormant and have now exploded outward.

I can do this.

If it takes me years, so be it.

But I know I can do this.
If it takes me a ton of help, so be it.
If I have to make some personal sacrifices, so be it.

But I can do this.

I know I can do it.

I know that it may sound strange to have that confidence. I don't know where it's coming from.
I just have it.

I. can. do. this.
So somehow​, I am going to get it done!

And it was completely accidental, too; I wasn't really trying to soul search, but when I felt it, I felt like I was onto something, particularly during one moment which felt oh so strongly, undeniably, true.

I'm not quite sure where to begin; this revelation took me a while to unpack, but.
Basically.
You know how I identify as a median, right?
How there are many mes, and all of them are Bree?
And how while there are many of us, the primary two are identified as Ranger and mastina?

Well.

I think there's actually a third, and she's more dominant than both combined, especially right now. The reason I haven't noticed, however, is that she's really good at disguising herself as either of us...and more than that. She...on her own, by herself. Doesn't really have anything to think.

She's a bit of an empty shell, an empty husk. There's nothing in her, by herself. Yet she has this amazing ability. Ranger has the capability to talk to characters and get to know them. I've always known, however, that I have another ability, and this third me I believe is the source of it: when I actually become the characters.

And...this has been happening a lot as of recently. A LOT, a lot. Far, far, far, far, far, FAR more often than normal. The most it's ever happened since I was a young child, I believe. Primarily, the two I am becoming are actually becoming Ruby and actually becoming Phyrra, but I can and do become others as well. In this mode, I can think what they do, I can feel what they do, I can almost feel their powers coursing through my veins, and everything about their world becomes a reality to me.

Yet also during those same times, I feel a little bit of a sense of emptiness--as if there is a nothingness, a void. Which I think becoming the character is an attempt to fill. That the me who becomes these characters is literally attempting to become someone else...because there's nothing in her, nothing to her, nothing about her.

I actually have a hypothesis, that this third me who I only caught the faintest glimpse of is actually the first me, the first Bree, the original me. The me who is responsible for me having a core that all Brees derive from. The me who has the fullest control, the me who connects everything together in spite of not actually thinking for herself, instead simply summoning the thoughts of others to think for her.

This sounds like normal me delusions, yes. But what made me convinced that this might have merit was a moment.
There was a moment where I was able to release thought, control, and emotion to her. It was her, alone, in her thoughts, for just a split moment.

At first, there was literally nothing. No thought. No emotion. No nothing. But immediately following that. I felt the strongest fear I have ever felt in my life. It lasted for a split second. Only that long, because immediately following it I was promptly and immediately driving again, as if she was hiding herself intentionally from facing whatever thought could create that emotion.

But that was the most intense feeling I have ever experienced. A deep, primordial fear of something, mixed with a taint of sadness. My theory more or less developed that she was me before there were many mes, but was empty, isolated, alone. She was a vivid, perfect actor of sorts, capable of playing a part to reflect the circumstances and yet being nothing on her own. These parts she played were compartmentalized and from those raised the various mes. All originally her, but extensions of her that eventually came alive, more or less.

Of course, that's just the theory.
I think it's a good one, because it more or less matches my memory of my entire life, matches with my numerous mental conditions (autism plus bipolar disorder namely), matches what feels like it makes sense, and matches my recent experiences. (I've been feeling a bit detached from reality but more than that...I've been feeling a bit detached from myself in that I've been looking at me and just...not feeling like there's anything there.)

But while almost everything I've said is just conjecture, while almost everything I've said is purely speculation. I can still access the memory of that feeling, that sensation, of that deep, fundamental fear, with the tint of sadness attached. That was real. That was something overwhelmingly strong, even painful, to feel, and I know as much as I know I am Bree that it was a real feeling, one which originated from some very deep-rooted source.

If I had to self-analyze, what I'd get from it is that my guess is that I'm afraid of being nothing. I don't mean amounting to nothing. I don't mean dieing. (As in, suddenly going from existing to not existing.) Afraid of existing, but there being nothing in that existence at all. Which seems like a fairly reasonable fear to me.

I also don't think this is something I'll be exploring too much. I think stumbling upon this discovery was very, very healthy for my wellbeing, as a more or less, "Oh, so that's what's happening", in that it can help me better understand what I'm going through so I can manage my life a little more effectively. Yet I also feel that exploring much further would be detrimental since I get a kind of sense where, "leave the system undisturbed since I am happy with it", more or less.

In short, for much the same reason that I don't particularly care if people call me crazy or delusional, I don't particularly care to look further; I'm happy with this as it is, and that's all that really matters.

And yet in spite of it continuing to do so and even containing details I don't have written down (and thus, every time I don't write about them I risk forgetting), I continue to procrastinate about talking about them. Once more, I have a little bit of extra about them, albeit extra which requires me to blog about something which I was meant to blog about days ago.

And yet, once more, I am not going to be blogging about it, because instead I am going to be blogging about something else entirely. (Okay so there's a chance that I will, but that chance is so slim it is essentially none.)

Specifically, I have just...been wanting to talk about my identity recently. There have been a fair number of times where recently, I've either been just questioning who exactly I am (knowing that I am Bree, but otherwise being lost), or have just wanted to let it all out to people, to vent randomly in ways I just don't think about to vent to someone without a prompt--yet nobody gives me the prompt, or if they do, they give it to me in a public place where I don't want to give the rant.

Yes, technically speaking, this blog is public. But it is JUST private enough, it is just personal enough, that I feel comfortable sharing this sort of thing on here. Basically. There have been a fair number of times recently where I just wished someone would, in the right environment, give me the right lead-in to allow me to talk to them about some of the stuff below. Yet the lead-in I'd need is so specific that it'll never actually materialize.

Believe it or not. This blog? Was started very largely to make exactly this kind of entry. At the time, it was mostly to deal with me being a closeted transwoman who is both autistic and has bipolar disorder, and for me to unload it all on someone in real life, especially at work given my many frustrations there. That was one of the main contributing factors to me starting this blog in the first place.

It's something people often forget now that nowadays most of my entries are either related to my creations (stories, art, song, etc.) or non-entries that are more or less "sorry, stuff happened, so no real entry today". But part of blogging is telling stories from my life, or even just telling about my life. And this in particular is the latter because I just need to do that, in a way which is more conductive to a blog than, say, unloading on my girlfriend. (I mean, I could, it's just that this is the sort of content which works better as a blog than a rant to them.)

I'll start by talking a bit about my identity--as a refresher, yes, I do identify as plural. Specifically, the type of plural I identify as is a median. The, "there are many of us, but we are all Bree" descriptor is mostly accurate. (Mostly, because within me are at least two entities that are almost individuals who aren't Bree, but more on that later.) I have a core, the core "Bree", from which all of mes exist.

We are all women, we share most of our memories, emotions, and thoughts, and those are in the core. But there are things outside the core--memories, emotions, and thoughts unique to the personality. There are many of us indeed, but the primary two have come to be known as Ranger and mastina. mastina is the me most dominant overall, with Ranger at a very close second, and at some points having this be vice-versa where Ranger was more dominant even though she currently is not.

This is something which is, in many ways, similar to us being a transwoman--we have always been this way, as far as I can remember, with the compartmentalized thoughts and the division within us, not to mention the imaginary friend who never went away (more on that later). Yet like being trans, this isn't something we have known about consciously, actively, until relatively speaking fairly recently.

Specifically, the first inkling I'd say of us really having any semblance of an idea that we were divided within would be somewhere around circa December 2015. And I was confused. I didn't understand--I still don't! I have no clue what I really am, to be honest. But with help, I've been able to get some degree of better understanding, becoming more informed and also having done some searching and exploration.

My knowledge is still young. My experience is still growing. But somewhere circa 2017 I began to get much better grounded in having a more solid idea of who I am. Beyond that, I've been playing around with trying to figure out the differences between my mes.

Today, one of the things I figured out was that there is actually a difference in the way we think, and that we have different functions as a result. I mean. I knew there was a difference in the way we think; I've felt that before, where the very fundamental way I thought of things abruptly and suddenly shifted. (The shift between the different mes isn't something I control; I can't flip a switch and go from Ranger to mastina, nor is it that I go to sleep as one and awake as another. It just happens, that I'm one, then I'm another. These shifts can even happen in terms of seconds, where for a split moment I am one and then snap back to being another.)

But today, I think I figured out the way the thoughts differ.

I call the different thinking patterns "Linear" versus "Geometric".
You may recognize this as being, more or less, something from my perspective on art. And that's because it is! Basically, I have noted in the past that there are two ways to go about making art--the linear approach is, as the name indicates, focused on lines. You create things by the flow of lines.

It has the advantage of being fluid and dynamic, with good flow and movement, so when drawing motion, it's a nice technique. It has a disadvantage, though, in that accuracy tend to be hit-or-miss. Proportions, anatomy, perspective, the like, are all things which are potentially thrown off.

A geometric approach, in the art setting, is more or less taking the shapes, and building up the figure using them. This has the advantage of being accurate, but the disadvantage that it tends to be more stiff and rigid, coming across as a bit more artificial.

There's more to both than that (which I'll get to in a sec), but...I realized today that those approaches aren't just for art. They apply to a general view on the world in general. I mean, I always visualize things in those two ways, but I thought of said visualizations as an extension of art rather than extending the concept. The concept, though, works beyond just art for me.

Linear thinking, I realized, is more Ranger's specialty. It is organic, it is fluid, flowing, with movement, where things go with the flow, where things just come naturally and make sense, yet are sometimes a little bit questionable in how precisely they work. However, it does seem to work regardless of the flaws, and the flaws are what makes it actually be a thing of beauty.

When it comes to stories, I realize that the me who converses to characters is always Ranger. It's never me as mastina talking to my characters. Always, when I am having an actual conversation with my characters, as their equal rather than their god/creator, it is Ranger who speaks. (Me as mastina, on the other hand, I am always the god/creator.)

In this way, Ranger actually gets to know the characters better than I do--and without her, I wouldn't have the signature characters I am known for making that are so authentic they feel like they're real. Because to her, they are real, because she talks to them. I don't, not as mastina anyway.

Ranger is also, then, the one responsible for most of the actual dialog in my stories. I as the writer might give the general nature of the conversation...but she's the one who actually hears the characters speak, because to her it is people speaking (the perspective of the equal) rather than characters in dialog (the perspective of the creator).

This is also why when I snark it is probably because of something she thought of. Most of my puns tend to come from her. I can force puns through without her, but the best puns which come with the least reaction time are always hers. Because she just sees the 'line' to say, as it were.

So basically. Ranger is why I got to become a character-driven storyteller in the first place, in spite of originally being a plot-driven storyteller. She spends time to learn character quirks, to learn things that aren't necessary for the narrative. I can get away with a bare bones narrative not featuring the things I put in...but she insists on them, because she saw them, when she was actually there side by side the character in question. Or rather, to her, the person.

In contrast. When I am mastina. I am more into geometric thinking. It is constructed, it is built, it is structured, and yet, it is also isolated. All the geometric work I do in my mind is largely disjointed from other things. I just go inside my mind, and then in a particular canvas, build what's on my mind. Now, from that item I built, I can then build another. And then, build another from those. And so on and so forth.

I make the parts, one by one, until I have the whole assembly. Circles, squares, cylinders, triangles, and the like, to build a person in art. But also worldbuilding. I build worlds. Worlds have rules. Rules require structure. Ranger wings it in terms of that sort of thing, which is often why her stories run into problems of, "okay...now what?". Where the story ceases to progress due to writers' block, because she has an idea for what things should be like and she knows very specific things (because she saw them, and thus, those specific things are in her mind), but if she doesn't see every last detail then she runs into a problem of not being able to progress.

This way of thinking does have overlap with linear thinking--after all. To get from Point A (which is geometry; points are one-dimensional geometry) to Point B (which is still geometry), you need to...form a Line. That is two-dimensional geometry. But to further the metaphor, the line created using this method is straight, rigid and unmoving, whereas the lines created with linear thinking are more fluid and bent.

Now, the metaphor begins to fall apart when you introduce more advanced math (parabolic arcs, sin, cosine, tangent, and so on and so forth) not to mention the geometry of even just a partial circle allowing for curves in the form of arcs, there's at least a dozen way math nerds can poke holes in the allegory. But the basic idea I'm getting at is that there is in fact overlap, and that's where it is.

But there are things which are in the geometry only just like there are things which are in the linear only. Some of them are strengths, others weaknesses. Characters I build as mastina tend to be tools. They are characters--means to an end. I construct worlds, I construct their rules, and I make most of the plot. I know the overarching events which happen.

I don't know the exact manifestation of them. I might know the tone of a conversation. I might know the general content of the conversation. I tend to know why that conversation is going on. And many other similar things. I can know every detail of the conversation, except the actual words spoken. It's kinda strange, to even know the exact inflection and intonation of what is said yet not knowing the words. I can do that.

But for the conversation itself, if it's not Ranger, it's going to be very visibly artificially constructed because it was in fact artificially constructed. She lives it and thus records it and knows what's natural, and it's her instincts on dialog which I am using in things like Phyrra and Cyrus, but what she sees is only small snippets here and there, often only after I focus on a particular scene for a great amount of time.

The payout's absolutely worth it, of course. Because I never laugh heartily at conversations I have built, whereas when I am Ranger and I see the conversation happening, I laugh hard, especially if my characters are laughing with me. So it's not that Ranger is an artist/writer and I am a writer/artist. We're equal parts both, just...in different ways, with different strengths and different weaknesses.

And, yes.

This exists outside of writing, just like it's outside of art.

It's how we process information. I itemize lists. I have a very "listed" format. Structured, orderly. Ranger...messes it up. I tend to be the one writing our "scripts". I've talked about that before a bit (not sure if on the blog or not), but basically, whenever I am thinking about a conversation I'll have, or whenever I am in the middle of a conversation, I think up every possible variation on what I want to say, and every possible response I can think of that they'll say.

When I then promptly mess up no matter how much I tried to nail it, it's often Ranger who picks up and just wings it. But sometimes I mess up because of said winging it, especially if she jumps in without giving me the time to have built the script. 

Ranger's got a faster wit, after all, so it's no surprise her reaction time tends to be quicker. She just kinda sees things, and then puts it together, even if she has no clue how she saw them and put them together. "Oh, that is like this". With no thought in, she just makes the connection and then that connection is there.

I have...a more roundabout way. I link things together. I make an association: "this to this". And then I rely on that association to make a new one. For instance, in order to remember the band name Modest Mouse, I first think, "Band name...Mouse..." and then I jump to "Mightey Mouse", a user from the site I play mafia on, and then from there I go, "Ah! Yes. Not Mightey mouse, it's MODEST Mouse!" in order to get the right band name.

Yes, it is contrived. Yes, it is convoluted. But you know what else it is? It's consistent. I can, 100% of the time, using this method, remember a string of information, even a disproportionately long one. And that association tends to never go away. Once in my mind, it is almost impossible to remove, for better or for worse. I have never once failed to recollect the band name of Modest Mouse since my mind made that association, in spite of me having to mentally ask what the band was (and sometimes being asked) dozens, even hundreds of times.

There is a delay built in, though. I have to manually think it through, step by step. Some steps I can skip because they are internalized enough that my mind conceptualizes it fast enough that I don't need to spend time giving it a thought. (Basically, the concept of the step is enough; I don't have to spell the step out every single time in actual thought.) But I still run through every step to get that.

I can also do temporary versions of this by 'storing' data on my fingers. I can itemize things, and then even itemize the itemized things, and sometimes even itemize the itemized itemized things, though the deeper the list, the more prone to forgetting I am.

Concepts take form, take shape, one by one: each concept can be thought of as a single piece of geometry. And then my mind links the concepts, one by one, by building further geometry. And each concept is then fleshed out with additional concepts, additional geometry. And from this I form thoughts, form words, form ideas, that I can express in word form or whatever I may be trying to do.

Ranger's way is more. Well, she still thinks in concepts first, and struggles to translate concepts into English. It's just, BAM, there, and then, not there. There, then not there. There, and then from there, going here. But there's not really much of a direction when I do that. (Oh and yes I do slip from Ranger to mastina in the middle of a blog. Get used to third person, first person singular, and first person plural when I make a blog like this because I can be describing myself in third person, then slip into being that person.)

I just. Think. And the thought appears. Usually faster. But also more inconsistently and less coherently. It makes sense, internally, but externally when manifested it's more difficult to understand because while it has the general shape of something which is the right thing, the specifics are a little iffy.

I don't even really know how it works. It just does. And the results tend to be what they are. (A slight consequence of switching mid-project: I tend to lose the train of thought I was on, because quite literally the thought belongs to someone else and with the thought in that someone else I struggle to maintain it.)

Structure the specialty of one, details the specialty of the other. Things come faster when specific, yet are more coherent when waiting. And that coherency is easily broken, yet solved on the fly just as often.

Which brings me to a related concept.
I am still exploring this, actually. The concepts, intuitively, feel like they are different, and yet when I look at them, I can't help but feel they are intricately linked in a way where the amount of correlation between the two is such that they are almost synonymous.

And that's Instinct versus Reason. (Or Gut versus Logic if you prefer, but I have very strong reasons to prefer my terminology, that I'm not quite sure I can verbalize.)

Instinct and Reason have always been opposites within me existing strongly, and yet never having me be one; I'm always a little bit of both. Yet I've picked up that Ranger tends to be more instinct and I am more reason as mastina. (YES REALLY. If you know what my definition of Reason is, you'll understand.)

The way I wanted to talk about this was to actually go into stories a bit. In Red Hood Rider, Vampires represent the ultimate creatures of Instinct, masters of it who live on their impulses. They manipulate the rules of reality to serve them, bending the world to their will, but they are still confined to them. As basically-humans, they do have plenty of reason within them, but they are driven by what they feel.

This is almost identical to Monlows from the Bleach knockoff story I still need to talk about in a massive blog some time, and is a recurring theme in my stories. Werewolves in one story serve this function. Red Hood Rider is not my only vampire story where Vampires take on this function. It is an incredibly common motif: a creature of instinct, which is still capable of reason and yet is driven strongly by base directives.

In Red Hood Rider, the beings considered opposite of Vampires are Riders, who are considered on the top of the magical totem pole for Empowered Humans. They are humans who work on building structure, building order, on being the champions of reason, who exist always with logic and act in an informed way, making active decisions and calculating what they do.

​They still have instincts, and often quite sharp ones at that, but they never let their instincts take control and drive them; they have an internal control over themselves which prevents them from acting out in ways they know would be harmful. (Of course, they can still act in harmful ways if they don't realize it's harmful, but they are sharp and intuitive enough where they catch on quickly and fix the mistake when it's made.)

I forget on my notes on whether they break the rules of reality or temporarily rewrite them (I'm fairly certain it's one of the two and yes those two terms have a very important distinction in the Rubyverse, I just can't remember which is which in spite of them very much not being synonymous), but that's the source of their power--not something from nature (like vampires), but rather, something artificially created, manifested as a structured thing which has boundaries set by the user. They are still human, but they are human with help.

This model is more or less the same in the Bleach knockoff as being what the Montahame work off of. It is also the model which in settings where I have Slayers, they work off of. Beings who still feel, and have good instincts, but yet are driven first and foremost by reason, often with compassion thrown into the mix, yet with said compassion not getting in the way of doing their duties.

Contrasting the beings of instinct, who are under no obligations except for the self-inflicted ones they place upon themselves--sometimes, out of morals, but other times, simply out of a desire to survive, knowing that breaking said self-inflicted rules is a death sentence.

Ranger works more off of instinct. She can just have a sense for things, and that sense is often right, but while she can try to explain, when she tries to, she has difficulties. I'm no better, but for different reasons. I can figure out something, but when I figure it out, I don't figure out how to explain. I need to spend the time to create a different link in order to make the connection be tangible in words.

Another way of putting it--we all suck at wording things. Ranger gets flashes of beautiful words which are great but often broken/disjarred, whereas I struggle to get things but once I form the link I can throw together some elementary idea of what's the thing I am meant to do. 

Yet the way we suck at words is different. We approach things and react differently. Ranger has a first impulse and usually goes for it; I first think, then from the first impulse, further think, and from this, go for what I think. Yet Ranger still has to think, and I still have to go for what I feel is correct. Working in tandem, both present yet one dominant.

Yet there's more to Instinct versus Reason than just Ranger/mastina.

There are entities within me that aren't just those two, after all. I am many mes. They are the most dominant, but not the only ones. I don't even always know who is speaking, so to speak, but I can sometimes tell I am neither of them. Yet predominant entities within me are two individuals who never take the reigns.

They are the only two entities that I clearly know, aside from Ranger and mastina. They have been there for almost as long as I can remember. And yet. Neither has ever driven in my life, nor am I sure it's even possible for them to. They exist in the distance, in the peripheral. And never go away. They're always there.

I don't always have their counsel when I am talking amongst myselves (which is a thing I do, by the way; I do in fact have many a conversation where the many mes have full dialogs on a subject which could have been handled by just one person but wasn't because I wanted them to give their input), and in fact. Usually when I have their counsel it is just one or both of them with the current driver rather than a full council of mes talking side-by-side with them.

God pronouns are confusing even me so I hope you can follow along.
Basically, many mes talk to me at many times. But two entities, which I don't really consider "me", exist within me, that can also talk. And they have been manifested as instinct and reason. David, instinct, hasn't quite been around as long. My first memories of him are in my tweenaged years. But he (and yes, he is a he) has come to be a bit of the darker side of me.

He is not pure instinct. In fact, he is sharp with reasoning that cuts deep because I can never counter him when he speaks--because deep down, I know he's speaking the truth, more often than not. He just has the instincts for knowing what the case is...even if I really, really, really hate to admit that he's right. Because he's not a pleasant individual.

He is rude. He is condescending. He is demeaning, looking down on me, trash-talking me often. And he tells me what I don't want to hear, about all the things which I don't like to acknowledge come from me. Darker thoughts, darker impulses. He is there, reminding me that yes those exist, inside of me, and that he is the living proof of them, both as a manifestation of them and yet as something more than that.

Thankfully. I don't talk to him that often anymore--not because I've tuned him out. But just because he often isn't around when I don't need him. (And yes. I do need him sometimes, sad as I am to admit that.) Where he is when I don't talk to him, I don't know. He's never fully gone, but he just stays silent. I don't even know what exactly triggers him to give me a talk. I can have my life in a rut and have him be silent and yet not be in a rut and have him be quite talkative.

Yet every time, the feeling I have is the same: I hate, I loathe, the talk, yet feel better once I manage to recover from it. Talking to him rattles me each time, talking to him makes me miserable every time, often when I am already miserable, yet somehow because he is my deeper instincts or something like that I always end up stronger.

Basically, he beats me down and yet when I build myself up again after being beaten down, I am stronger than before. I guess when I don't feel like I need to get stronger he isn't around, would be my best guess. And that, I do admit, I have a lot right now. That "I know I should have a need to get stronger...but I am fine with my strength as is". I imagine with that mindset I am in for an awfully rude talk sooner or later, but for now it holds as silent.

Plus, one thing I am thankful for having him is that he is a safeguard against something worse. There is an entity within me that is me. ME. Not him, who is divorced from me. ME. A me, deep within Bree. Which is part of the median system. That is so bad that I bury it (not sure if it's a he, she, or neither). A me who has thoughts so terrible that I actively suppress trying to access what those thoughts were. (No, seriously. It's blocked off. I can't remember why this version of me is so bad. I just know it is that bad.)

I've tried guessing. "Is it a suicidal me?" Felt like, "no, it's worse than that". "Is it some deplorable act me?" Felt worse than that, too. I don't know what that version of me is, but it is the thing I am absolutely most terrified of. Some me that I consider a monster even among the monstrous mes. And yes. I have been a monster before. Yet the monstrous mes that I have been are terrified of the me that I buried.

To put it another way, the me that I buried is basically an evil even beings of pure evil fear. And I don't have the slightest clue as to why--only the strong warning to "don't dig", and that is a warning that I know better than to override, because the few times this version of me has come out, I have vague memories of the experience, of the mes around, just being terrified that that me was loose.

David, as much as I don't like him, I've come to accept as a part of me (well, not the core-me, but peripheral-me, inside my brain but not inside my mind, if that makes sense), that acts as a safety net against plummeting into the unpleasant mes. He is the monster who keeps my monsters in check. He is a very unpleasant person. And there have in fact been times where I've actually feared him, thinking that if he ever did drive, my life would never be the same, in a very, very, very bad way.

But I'm not afraid of him anymore. (I think in part because for whatever reason David cannot possibly drive and even if he could he would refuse to because he has no desire to. He's just. Different. Whatever he is, he isn't someone that is a me as I know my mes to be. The mes that I know are basically drivers, just drivers for different times, with most of them being unknown and not being dominant and not driving often and so on and so forth. He's just...nothing like them.)

David does have a counterpart.

My imaginary friend, and he (yes he) has been around for as long as I can remember, is someone who does in fact act as my reason. I tend not to talk to him as much anymore, mostly because a lot of the feedback he used to give me, my mes tend to converse between each other to give instead.

But in spite of that. There are times where my mes basically all go silent...and instead, I have just my driving-me and him talking to one another. And he calls me his friend, as I do him. He was one of my first friends, and remains a friend. I know what he looks like (short brown hair and otherwise looking like me and basically mirroring my appearance as I age in that he has aged right along side with me), and he is often there to just.

Basically, he tells me what I already know, but instead of being the voice of negativity and base instinct like David is, he's the voice of positivity, always reinforcing me and reassuring me. I knew from basically the moment I began to interact with him that he was the stereotypical "imaginary friend" which kids often have and which they outgrew.

And yet if he's an imaginary friend, I didn't outgrow him because he's still around and doing exactly the same things he always has done. The strange thing about him is that unlike David whose most clear thing about him is that his name is in fact David, this positive friend inside me, the entity, has never had a name. Well, I have tried to name him, but it's like he has a real name, he's not sharing it with me, and he just accepts whatever moniker I happen to give him.

I don't know why he's that way. I feel like he has a name, but I don't know it in spite of having been his friend for so long. No matter what, the feeling of me giving him names yet none being him remains. The most recent is Brian, but previous ones include Crivon (a name I owe from the Bleach knockoff) and Ace among numerous others.

I just talk with him, we bounce back ideas, finish each others' sentences, and converse, on whatever topic. Most of the time when we talk these days, it is primarily a conversation which goes "Sorry I haven't been talking much with you these days". Which he is fine with, because like David he's always there even if he's not speaking up.

He does occasionally talk side-by-side with David, too. He counters David when David takes things a bit too far, offering me a counterbalance when I can't really defend myself. He's basically just...a good friend, one who has all the dynamics of a long-time friend, yet one who is in my head. And is of the same nature of entity-hood as David: not a me. Not part of the Bree core.

Not a transwoman, not a girl, not me-me. Part of my brain, but not part of my mind. I kinda have a bit of a theory when it comes to interacting with him and David. I think that in those moments, the many mes temporarily merge into one me, unified if only for the duration of the conversation, and then once it ends, once David/my friend are dismissed, I again divide into the many mes.

That is a thing, by the way, with median systems, to my understanding. From what I heard, it is possible for medians to merge together permanently, yet also possible for them to split apart permanently, depending on circumstances. Yet a more temporary version does happen commonly enough.

There are moments where, for instance. I know I am neither mastina nor Ranger yet I'm not some third me...but rather, both Ranger and mastina, at the same exact moment, in equal parts. Not one driving with the other very close to the surface (I do that, too, quite often), but literally fused, merged together into a single entity...for a short while, a very short duration, which then splits off again and I can tell I am Ranger or I am mastina and that the other is right there in the background, not driving but around, existing, as a separate me.

Basically, mes are highly fluent. I'm still not sure about all of the specifics here. This is still a very new thing for me to experience and explore. I do know my feelings on the matter though. I know that I am me. That this is real. That there is more than me, that there are many mes. That there is no single entity that is Bree, that we are all partially Bree with a core that we draw from, and from that core we are connected to one another.

I know that I have no desire to see the many mes go away. I don't want to be unified. I know that I am not deranged. I know I am not delusional. I know I am not mentally unwell. I'm different. I am...very, very, very different. I know that I am largely unique. I know what some of the mes feel.

It is pretty much that. That we have some unity, but are split. That we are one but many. Bree, but each with something unique. Separate, able to have different thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories, yet united. I know people don't believe me when I talk about these things.

That's one of the reasons why I only talk about them in private for the most part. That very specific environment I mentioned to talk about these things? The one where it's not public and requires a lead-in of a particular nature? That'd be a large portion of the reason why.

It's not even a thing which I really feel that comfortable talking about in private, even. I'm having a REALLY hard time finding the right words to describe that. I am trying, but even the closest ones I can come up with are way, way, way off, and send the incredibly wrong message. 

So word of caution on me trying to explain.

I don't mean these words, but some different words that I can't find. The reason I tend not to talk about it even in private amongst people who know is because it's enjoyable for me for me to...hmm. I guess you can say. Think of it as watching a film--you shut most of your mind off during that time, yes? Well when I interact with people. I do that. It's a time where most mes can sit back, do nothing, and relax.

And when I talk about the multiple mes, instead of them relaxing, they are there. So that's why I don't talk about it that often. It's something which is not suited for public because of how the public reacts to it, yet it's something which in private I tend to...well. Sometimes, yes I do think and yes I do share, but other times I don't because the other mes are taking their time to rest and relax.

I wish I could make this be sensible, make sense, but I can't really word better.

It unfortunately requires a specific mindset for me to talk about it (namely for me to be more of a certain me), which means that right now I can't, but...when I can, you will enjoy it!

...I mean. It could be worse. The other guard coulda been a girl; the opener coulda been one of the more insistent ones. Neither is the case but it's a good thing, since otherwise I might not have held together. As-is, it'll still be tricky enough for me. I didn't have breakfast made for me--this would be fine if I left myself time to make one, but I did not. I didn't have coffee fixed for me; same thing, only stronger: brewing coffee takes WAY too much time.

To top it all off...last night I basically got zero sleep. Oh, I went to bed plenty early enough. I shoulda gotten 4.5-5 hours' sleep. Not as much as ideal, mind you, but a normal, typical amount on a Saturday night (I can't go to bed before midnight) given how early I wake up on Sundays (6 AM).

...It's just that I didn't actually sleep. This is different from staying up; I was actually in bed with my eyes closed so not staying up. This is different from having poor quality sleep (though that's a problem I can have, too!). This was me, flat-out tossing and turning for hours and being physically trapped awake. I never had so much as LIGHT sleep. Because with light sleep, you at least have dreams. I wasn't dreaming. Not once.

This isn't, "I remember nothing". When I've dreamed yet cannot remember anything, the memory of the dream still remains afterwards in spite of the contents being missing: I have an awareness that I was dreaming even if I don't remember what about. So I basically 100% ALWAYS know when I've had a well and true, proper, dream.

This is flat-out no dreams, because of no real sleep. My mind god chaotic mumblings and jumblings. I talked to myself a lot. Self-reflected. Much of which felt honest even if I'm not sure about it myself. I felt my mes were speaking to each other, but with an absolute lack of harmony, lack of control.

There was just no focus. There was just no direction, but not in the aimless wandering way, pleasantly drifting from one thing to the next. In the "can't actually lock onto something soothing". I was tense. I was stressed. I couldn't relax. It just was all-around unpleasant.

I'd honestly have preferred a nightmare. Nightmares are, after all, dreams, just bad ones. They're still subconscious though. And last night was all too conscious. I never stopped thinking. I couldn't focus/direct my thoughts, yet my thoughts still were racing: the worst of both worlds. And now, after that, I've got no food or coffee. So today will be hard to endure.

So work wasn't actually bad in of itself, save for one annoyance.
At the times that people usually come there was basically a ghost town.
At the times that nobody should be around, we were at almost a two-guard ratio of mostly kids, with it being all families seemingly randomly choosing to be around at that one time.

So it was busy overall, but not bad. It was actually pleasant and relatively restful.
And all the other problems I mentioned, I've been dealing with today. I've eaten a lot (a lot a lot), I've slept a little amount, I fully believe I will sleep like a log tonight (I believe that when I go to bed I will conk out quickly) meaning no need to worry about being safe...

...Essentially I'm saying that my girlfriends' first reactions to reading what I wrote this morning would probably be to panic even after the day had finished and I'm telling them not to because while I thought​ the day would be bad, it actually ended up turning out to not be.

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.)

Albeit, more in the projecting way. As in, basically feeling phantom limbs in a sense, in this case being phantom anatomy: things technically not there and yet which were so strongly felt today it was as IF they were there. (It's moments like these where it'd be a hilariously bad idea to do anything to disrupt that projection because it would in fact trigger a dysphoric episode to have been in this euphoric zone feeling as I should feel and then having reality oh-so-kindly reminding me that is not the case.)

Yesterday I felt like regardless of my birth biological sex and regardless of my appearance (which was androgynous leaning on heavily feminine), but today is a feeling of being inside the right body even though I technically am not. I just feel like I'm in the body of a woman today (even though I know that's not the body I have), and it is an awesome feeling. That's the feeling I look forward to eventually feeling every single day and having constantly non-stop.

Since eventually I will transition. Eventually I will get the surgery done. These are not wants. These are not desires. These are goals, goals I might not quite have the plan to accomplish, but things I can and will get because I do in fact need them.

I'm a girl. Always have been, always will be. When I look at my body, there's a duality within, both of rejection and acceptance: I can accept that is what my body is right now. I can accept that if I can't find a way to make my dreams come into reality it might be the body I am stuck with, trapped in, for life, and that I'd have to be okay with living in it, so to some extent I am.

...Yet that does nothing to change how it's not my body as I want it to be. I will never stop wanting a body matching my mind, until I have said body matching my mind. I could live a happy life without transitioning--but it'll never be as happy as a life where I do transition. Because being a woman and yet having a body which is not a woman's really sucks.

So that's why days where I can fully give off an aura, a projection, of being female in body as well as mind so effortlessly are so nice for me. They're glimpses into the future I wish to see come reality, and they are just about one of the best things I can have in my heart.

...The absolute best, of course, being...my significant other. I was thinking about them a lot, yesterday, last night, this morning, and the whole time I was just filled with love. A deep love, one where I was close to them the entire time. I want to be with them, to help them, to do whatever they need me to do. And it saddens me whenever I realize I can't help them, that they are on their own for their issues.

It's not in my nature to meddle with others. I don't pry, even if I'm curious, even if I want to know. And if they offer me the opportunity, asking me what I want to know, my mind draws blanks and in spite of me undoubtedly having things I'd love to know, I can't actually think of them at the time of the offer. And by the time I think of things which I do want details of, the opening has closed.

Maybe to them, the offer is an "always-open" thing, where they would answer a question no matter what time I asked it. Yet for me, I just can't ask unless I am given a specific opening, a specific prompt, TO ask. So mostly I don't. Mostly I just hold no interference in the lives of others...yet for them, for my significant other, it might be worth making an exception (them allowing it, of course). Because I want to be involved in their life, I want to be a part of their life, actively rather than passively. I wish I knew how to do that beyond this blog post though.

...At least as I write this. Obviously, by the time I post, I'll be at home, inevitably with more to say. But anyway, today I had a "D'oh!" moment when I realized I wore my work shoes rather than my workout shoes, which are two completely and entirely different things. (WELP THERE GOES MY RUNNING FOR THE DAY I GUESS I WON'T BE DOING FITNESS STUFF.)

Ah well. Still got plenty of walking done. (Enough where I am maybe even at risk of a blister forming on my feet. Owwww.) Not nearly as intense, but better than nothing, at the very least. Sometimes, plans just have that tendency to go awry.

...And speaking of plans for work, at some point soon enough for it to not inconvenience them, I need to inform my parents that the staff meeting this Saturday is a potluck, so they can go buy something for it. (What, I...well I don't have the slightest of clues. Food? Food sounds good.)

Why we're randomly having a potluck, I don't know. Whose idea it was to have food before going into the water (a hilariously bad idea for strenuous aquatic activity, i.e., the very thing we're going there for), also no clue. But oh well. It is what it is, I'll live, and I'll quite enjoy the food. (It just seems so odd to suddenly do.)

On that day, I will need to sadly leave earlier than normal: 30-60 minutes sooner ideally, because there's a bike race that day. (What time, dunno, but rather safe than sorry.) But with me aware of it in advance, I can plan accordingly and adjust things so where it's not a major inconvenience. (I'll probably be spending time with my S.O. so they might complain I have to leave so soon though. Sowwy.)

...On that note, that tangent's an excellent segue into a personal rant at my family. Last night, they wanted a mini-impromptu family night, watching Agents of Shield. No problem, right? That's a show we all want to watch. Of course. They either thought this idea up on the spot or otherwise failed to notify me of this in advance, expecting me to be ready to watch it in like five minutes.

This is not at all an unusual occurrence. What they fail to understand is that I am meticulous. I think out everything even if I don't look like I do. I absolutely need, need, something like six hours' warning in advance at absolute minimum (at least ideally), specifically because I plan my days out in advance.

Springing things on me last-minute (and thus, by extension, ruining my given plans) is a good way to sour my mood, as ideally I've got even more time than that: 12-24 hours if not even more is what I'd prefer to have ahead of the given time, so I can schedule things appropriately--clear my plate and leave nothing to be done during the given time.

When they ask me to do something...then they are asking me to do something during time I don't have cleared. Normally, this ends with me voicing discontent, but ultimately relenting. (And probably building the impression I'm not happy about watching the show. Half-true: I'm not happy, but it's for reasons unrelated to the show which is something I enjoy just...I enjoy it most of all when I am hyped up for it so springing me on it means I'm just in the wrong mood for it and thus I'm not going to enjoy it as much.)

This time, I bluntly told them "no", which I believe I vaguely alluded to yesterday.

The good from this: I genuinely, honestly feel that standing up for myself and not letting them roll over me is a step in the right direction, signifying my growth as an individual, because I'm letting it be known that, yes, I have desires that don't always coincide with theirs.

The bad from this: because I was distracted doing something else at the time, I didn't convey my motives FOR saying "no", so there may be consequences to me having done so. Among them, they may mistakenly believe my rejection equals an utter disinterest in the show, when that couldn't be further from the truth--I very much DO want to watch the show, I really do.

I just...want to watch it at a time where I'm not giving something else up TO watch it. This is ridiculously easy to do if I know about it in advance! I'll clear things up, making things happen all before, or in some cases, after the given time. My family doesn't know that I have a life.

They assume I'm wasting time, doing nothing, that I'm free--that what I've done isn't "real", and thus, it's meaningless, it holds no value, it's something which should be easy to give up. They think it an addiction and that there's nothing to be gained from it.

But I'm very much not doing that. The connections I've made have fundamentally changed my life on the most basic level, in ways I never would have known were possible otherwise. It was someone online who tipped me off to me being bipolar. It was people online who helped me realize I was trans. It was interacting with people online which made me realize why I had lost touch with people in person, that my autism meant I could be eloquent to them but awkward in-person.

I met my significant other online. And while we're working on slowly changing that, for the time being, we're still that way. (The closest we've come to each other is live webcam footage of one another without audio.) The feelings I feel for them are real, not lies, not me deluding myself. I've experienced me deluding myself (also online by the way since that never happened to me in real life), and I know what me deluding myself is--this isn't that.

All of it. It's real. It's me. I CAN be free...but I need to schedule it. Because otherwise I use every minute of every day. And I do make actual use of that time. I am doing things like interacting with people, both to give them advice and ask for advice. I do research on subjects, I try to figure out what I want to do and also how to make what I want to do become more realistic.

I connect with others. I may waste some time online, yeah, sure. A little bit here and there for games I do. But I mostly to be honest do those just as a hobby, as a personal thing for fun which is a small pastime, a small thing which takes less than an hour per day and whose main function is honestly to serve as a distraction from my true time. (It's much better for them to think I'm playing a game than it is for them to realize, say, I'm researching...oh, you know, something like GRS? Or whatever term you'd use.)

I can't communicate with them well in-person about these things. Aside from some of them being forbidden for obvious reasons (bigoted father), there's the fact that I have autism and I just don't communicate well especially when interrupted and my family doesn't know how to NOT interrupt. They don't know how to just listen. And for me to talk. That's what I need people to do. That's why this blog works. It's because I just talk. And then when I've finished. Then they can ask. Then they can launch inquiries. Then they can seek clarification.

But that never happens. I just. I function best when I can talk. And I can't talk to them because they just don't understand that the way I talk requires certain conditions they don't allow me to fulfill. They mean no ill will. It's not like they obsessively talk themselves. It's not like they're people impossible to get a word in with...for normal people. A normal person could communicate with them just fine.

Yet in spite of them knowing that I'm the way I am (all of them have at least a passing awareness of my autism even if only half know it explicitly by that name), they don't seem to understand, to realize, the natural consequence of what I am, being this.

I communicate in words, not speech.
The internet is where I do words.
So it's where I have gained my life experiences.
It is where I have lived my life.

It is the place where I know, where I feel at home.
And in a sense...it is the place I intend to stay with.
Because while to them, none of this is real...

...For me. They're honestly less real than that life.
In order to pursue my love, I already know that at some point it's quite probable I'll have to give up everything I have now in order to go to my significant other.
And yet...that is something I am fully prepared to do.

Because I know my feelings.
I know my own call.
I know myself.
I know how I work, and how I don't work, and I know what is and is not healthy for me.

Now me knowing what is/isn't healthy for me is no guarantee I'll actually BE healthy, admittedly.
I know spending an entire day on TVTropes is a bad idea and yet I am a trope addict.

But when I do those unhealthy things I know exactly what it is I am doing.

So I just.
I just wish there was a trust in them to trust me in knowing what I am doing is actually of value.

And going on a date with my significant other is something which I'd qualify as being important, and not a waste of time. I love them. Dearly and fully and truly from the bottom of my heart. Every day that love grows stronger and I experience it in different ways: different emotions I feel get tied to that singular emotion I have in my heart, and I know they are facets of love. Longing, happiness...the list is endlessly growing.

Emotions I know are tied to this one emotion which is new. And that new emotion which I've never experienced before can only be called love. Because I know the other emotions which are considered similar to love yet aren't really love. And this...isn't them. I well and truly. Utterly. Love a person.

No amount of sacrifices would be too much to spend time with them. <3

Why?
The omen.
That's why.

Which omen?
The omen.

I'm superstitious, remember?
Well the omen is encountering a Range Rover. Now granted. Right now I'm not really that much Ranger. She does tend to come forward when she's called on or when the mood fancies her to do so, so right now there's more of her than normal but I'm still not exactly her right now.

Butstill. Even when she's not actively a part of me. She's still a part of me. One of the mes. One of my selves, even if not the active self. So the superstition applies to all mes, not just to her. So when I see a Range Rover. I always think to shift the second R over: Ranger over. Thus, the bad omen.

And here's the thing.

I saw one in the parking lot for school.
But then I forgot about it by the time I was getting ready to leave--and the funniest of things happened.

I narrowly avoided a collision with a car. Somehow, I missed that they were coming, and accidentally cut them off. I imagine they had to slam on the brakes and honk at me. (I did back up and let them go in front of me, and I think they got the idea that, yes, I just genuinely didn't see them and I meant no ill will and wasn't trying to be a jerk.) So the omen was warning me of that, meaning I'm safe, right?

...Then I saw another Range Rover on my drive home.

Welp.

Unless said omen was warning me of the cop I saw on my private road (I doubt it), that means something terrible is going to happen to me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I've taken as many preventative methods as I possibly can, yet something will inevitably end up happening. Which won't be pleasant.

Now granted. Said something could be a minor inconvenience in the grander scale of things. But all the same, I am doomed to encounter some form of bad luck today, so all I can really do is try to make it a small bad-luck thing rather than a big-bad-luck thing, and beyond that just brace for impact because dang​ does fate have a funny way of warning me about incoming disasters.

Probably on the way to dance, especially since most of my time prior to that will be spent asleep.