It’s my first time using the new improved editor on WordPress. I figured I’d better learn it before they decide it’s the only editor. Meltdown Prevention 101, eh? M. let me care for Tallulah today (for practice.) I love having a dog so much.
I’m looking forward to living with her full-time in the future. I live across the street from a park connected to another with the bike trails. (It’s the warm-up portion of my running route.) It’s also just over 2 miles to the end of the second park and back, which is now my dog walking course.
It took longer than I anticipated, but mostly because there were a lot of feces. It’s a primarily residential neighborhood, and most people probably walked their dog while half asleep in the dark this morning. I need these parks to remain dog-friendly, so I picked up all the poop on my route. (I’m so thankful for Jack Frost.)
I decided it was over-looked accidentally, and my neighbors would do the same for me. It’s dark most of the time, now. Fortunately, lots of people put holiday lights on their balcony already, and my display isn’t the most enthusiastic this time; mostly because 3 out of 5 sets of solar string lights didn’t work. 🤪
I got an email from a friend today! I was afraid it was a friend I lost during The Worst Meltdown of 2017. Two people emailed me since that horrible time, (when the universe found out I was using social media as if I knew what I was doing, and kicked my ass to the curb with a purpose.) Both are still my friend. (!!!)
I’m going to go ahead and dub it The Miracle of 2017. I guess silver linings are more impressive than the Doublemint wrappers I claimed. I’m trying to work out how to tell one of them I’m never going on Twitter again. (Or anything similar.) I’m probably going to do a Keynote presentation and send them the link. (Unless I think of something more efficient first.)
They are the first autistic friend I made on Twitter. Dammit. I guess I’m more of a romantic than I’m comfortable admitting. (I hope that word works platonically, too.) Okay, I’m going to go because I can tell I’m going to start crying again. At least they’re happy tears. My cat, Amelia Bedelia, understands me, so I’m off to rock with her. Peace.
p.s. The new WordPress editor is fabulous!
I’m still struggling to entirely free myself from the grip of the Depression Monster. I’m doing better, thanks to our Stevie Nicks party. When I think about what she’s taught me, it helps free me from my inner asshole. I quit beating myself up for having depression and focus on forcing it back into remission.
I watched an interview on YouTube in which Stevie Nicks was royally pissed off. I had to view it a few times to recognize she was angry, (this is one of my known bugs.) When it clicked, I realized she gets pissed precisely the way I do. We both talk a whole lot of shit to cover up how powerless and hurt we’re feeling.
I’m kinda glad there’s someone else on this planet who reacts this way besides me. When I reach that point, I’m incredibly compelled to throw out unbelievable threats against whoever has me riled. I know as it’s coming out of my mouth how ridiculous it sounds. I just need to say it anyway.
As I age, I’ve improved slightly. It’s been decades since I’ve threatened to hit someone with the Empire State Building. It’s symbolic of my rage, not literal, (although, if I could, I might need a timeout to prevent it.) To me, I’m merely stating exactly how pissed off I am. Others usually choose to find it amusing, (which only makes me want to replace the Empire State Building with the moon.)
Before I acquired this um… Skill… My only way of expressing rage was crying. This is better. Just so you know, the best way to react to someone losing it like this is to remain silent and avoid eye contact. Perhaps no sudden movements, too. Please, don’t laugh, it just makes it worse.
Tomorrow morning at 7AM PST, the pre-ordering begins. Of course, there’s a dark side version as well. It’s red instead of green. I was in the process of researching my new gaming build, when this popped up and said, “Strong with the force, I am.” Gamer’s who also prefer their machine to look like a brilliant, (damn near garish) alien artifact: May the force be with you. Always. 💜
I’m getting ready to watch comedians on Netflix. Laughing until my face hurts is my way of going nuclear against the Depression Monster. I keep it in reserve for this use. I’m not pulling out my secret weapon just yet: Wanda Sykes. I do need to start watching Conan again, though. He’s like America’s Prozac. I love him. Okay, I’m off to laugh like there’s a prize.
I’m thrilled in anticipation of December 15, 2017. I’m so excited I’m trembling. I’ll bet Carrie Fisher’s daughter is feeling all the feels from watching this, too. It’s going to level me in the theater (again.) The Star Wars films are off the chart for overstimulation. The soundtrack alone is practically more than I can take, it’s so incredible. The franchise is deeply embedded in my world and has been since I was a silent child.
Leia Organa was the first (imagined) hero in my world. Carrie Fisher evolved into a real-life hero while her life trained her like a Jedi. Thriving with mental illness is very much like Jedi training. You have to trust in The Force, or you’ll be too tempted to give in to the dark side (self-destruction.) It’s why being literal-minded is something I treasure, (despite its tendency to annoy others.)
I need to start working out a plan to allow me to see it at the theater. I’ll break it up into four viewings. One thing in my favor: The people who also love Star Wars will be there with me, and none of them made fun of me when I wept silently through half of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Of course, I’m going to cry when I see General Leia again. (It would be weird if I didn’t.)
The last time I was in Denver, I stayed at The Art hotel. It’s lovely and ideally located in the museum district. It has some fabulous art installations. As I was entering with my R2-D2 carryon suitcase in tow, a woman complimented it, stating it was unusual. The asshole she was with, (some random man) said it’s not unique, it’s intended for children.
I smiled at the woman and ignored the asshole as we got in the elevator. I hate elevators. They’re racist/hate detectors. I despise the ones who freeze in horror when the doors slide open to reveal my beautiful brown skin. Racists usually opt to wait for the elevator to return rather than sharing it with me. It’s an incredibly revealing moment I’d prefer not experiencing again. I’d rather endure three assholes who think Star Wars is a children-only world.
I’m glad I didn’t bother explaining to him how the story scales to the viewer’s comprehension. What was initially mind-boggling fascination becomes nostalgic and corny through older eyes. But the story continues, and enchantment is renewed with each installment. Episode I is the only film that made me physically ill in the theater. The pod racing was so loud, I hurled, and my brother had to help me outside to recover. Good times.
I love having an epic experience in waiting. It makes me giddy every time I remember. I switched routes for Meals on Wheels. It’s unbelievable how challenging it is for me to navigate a new neighborhood with time constraints. Good thing it’s not snowing yet. There really ought to be a law regarding continuity of residential addresses, though. I’m pretty sure I lost a layer of enamel from grinding through that exercise in frustration tolerance. But you know what? It’s okay. Star Wars. 🙃
It’s been a strange day. Time keeps getting away from me. I talked so much today, my voice is nearly gone. I spent time on Skype talking to S. earlier. It wasn’t planned in advance, which stresses me out, but I enjoyed our chat. (I had something else planned, but couldn’t work out when to interrupt and tell her.) We talked about the strange things my body has been doing of late, and she assured me I’m not mutating. It’s normal for women to have hormonal fluctuations during each month. She also reminded me the levels tend to drop as we age. 😶
Afterward, I spent some time researching hair removal options. Laser looks promising. I noticed my internet speed was off and did a speed-test. It was a third of usual speed, so I started troubleshooting. After messing around with my router, (in the advanced tab, where my skill level is trial and error,) and resetting my modem, the issue remained. I called tech support. The woman who helped asked if I was on wired or wireless when I tested my connection. I told her I’m a geek. (It usually speeds up the process considerably.) She laughed and said she’s a nerd. All formality was dropped, and we started talking about video games, operating systems, hardware, etc.
Every so often, she’d ask a question related to my issue. We talked for three hours. The only time I talk on the phone is when I’m calling tech support, or my sister (who decided she doesn’t like texting.😑) I’ve finally convinced everyone else to text or email. (It took years.) Look at me talking on the phone for three hours! Who the hell am I? 🤣 Turns out, Nerd Girl lives in the adjacent apartment complex, (run by the same staff.) We compared rents and utility bills, favorite anime and manga, and generally geeked out. It was like I knew her forever, and we were catching up.
She did a great job of keeping the conversation flowing, which made me adore her. (The entire concept of small talk usually makes my stomach hurt.) We talked about the creepy guy who sits in the hot tub and watches people swim. I told her I made a story for him, so it didn’t feel gross to swim. I decided he’s a veteran who uses the hot tub for physical therapy. I started getting a little anxious because my inner adult insisted I was oversharing. Then she mentioned Warcraft, and I forgot all about being anxious.
M. and Amelia Bedelia complained about being neglected. (I usually info dump on M. while he falls asleep.) By the time we hung up, I was having trouble with my speech. I think my mouth is too tired to form any more words correctly. So… Hi. I’m Alison 3.0, and I talk on the phone for hours at a time, like I’m a neurotypical teenager or something. Thought you should know. 🙃
I’m excited to be going to Mexico City next week. I haven’t been to Mexico since the 90’s. I spent a lot of time in Ciudad Juarez when I was stationed in El Paso. It’s where I got drunk the first time (in my life) on tequila slammers, then couldn’t remember the name of my country when we crossed the border back into the USA. (The street was named Avenue of the Americas, but I was too focused on walking.) I got back to the barracks safely but swore off tequila for life during PT the next morning.
I’m excited to go, but also nervous, as I’m meeting the parents of my prodigy, too. M. tried to talk me into waiting until he has time to go with me, but he just used up all his vacation for his parents’ visit. I said goodbye to his family yesterday and they flew out today. S. was bummed, but she’ll hopefully come back for the wedding. Shit. I just had a surge of anxiety from typing that. (Has second thoughts for the third time today alone.) This isn’t the kind of fear I’m used to. My usual strategy of running toward fear (to get it over with) doesn’t fit.
At least he’s agreed to wait for a while. On to a new, less stressful topic. It stormed today so no eclipse here. I’m excited Will and Grace will start airing in the fall. It’s been years since I watched NBC. I don’t watch the original networks at all, normally. If the show is good, I buy it by season. I finished watching Moana. I loved it. I love the soundtrack, too. I’m going to study American Samoan culture and find out how much was based on reality, (if any.) I like reading about the folklore of other cultures.
We got a new statue in South Dakota (Chamberlain) titled, Dignity.
I love it. She’s 50-feet tall. I’ll be visiting her soon because I have to touch her and marvel. Most people take photos of cool things. I touch things and stare until I can close my eyes and conjure it in detail. Now there are two reasons to visit South Dakota. The Crazy Horse monument and Dignity. Yay. Deadwood is a horrible disappointment aside from Calamity Jane’s gravesite. (The stoned presidents are a travesty.) I don’t work for the state tourism industry, in case it wasn’t obvious. 🤣
The VA frustrates me so much. I got my eyes examined last November. I still haven’t gotten my new glasses. The prescription expires in November. I’ve gone three times (so far) to find the person who orders frames was on break or at lunch. I space out my attempts so I don’t lose it in the waiting room and start bawling out of frustration. I noticed a few other veterans tweeting at our House Representative, asking her to help. She ignores them. She tweets regularly but doesn’t respond to anything. It’s something I despise about South Dakota. We have no representation. It sucks.
I’m going to write some scathing Letters to the Editor for our local newspaper at strategic times to let my neighbors know they all three have to go, and why. Fucking GOP. Putting party before country should cause a raging case of Herpes, dammit. (I’m probably cranky from not sleeping last night.) Every time I lay down, I had to get up to pee. After the fifth time, I said fuck it and got up to work on my quilt. It was bizarre and so annoying. My body is doing weird shit lately. This morning I found a hair on my cheek that was an inch long. What the actual fuck? It’s possible it was a cat hair stuck to my face by drool, but I don’t think so. I think it grew out of my cheek and got that long before I noticed. (I plucked it.)
You can call me Al instead of Alison now since I’m growing a fucking beard on my left cheek. I’m going to name it Nigel. Nigel the weird beard. It’s possible this is a hormonal reaction to quitting Prozac. I told M. earlier, “Thank goodness you promised to marry me before I started growing this hair out of my cheek, or I’d surely die alone.” (He rarely gets my jokes, but I laughed for both of us.) I’m off to read.
I went downtown to the vigil for Heather Heyer. I’ll remember her forever. I didn’t stay long. The Depression Monster is thrilled I’m no longer taking Prozac and is just waiting for an opportunity to pounce. I’m going to disappoint him. I can feel sad without sliding into depression. It’s been an odd day. I did a freestyle rap about racism earlier, (and it astonished me.) Mostly because I don’t rap. Ever. It was good, too! The rhymes kept flowing out of me!
I just kept saying whatever came to mind, and hearing it at the same time, and thinking, “Yes! These are the words!” I started getting louder (Me! Being loud!) and could feel the knot in my gut unwind a bit with every rhyme. S. was sitting there watching me, looking stunned. I was so excited, (and so many other feelings at the same time.) Then I laughed really hard because The Muse is back. Huzzah!
I’m deliberately not writing down the lyrics because obviously, they’re for someone else, (a rapper, duh.) I’m just thrilled they passed through me on their way. It. Was. So. Awesome. (I don’t even listen to rap!) I’ve gotten bits of songs in the past, but never this strongly. If you’ve ever observed how experienced musicians can create music spontaneously together in jam sessions, you’ve seen the river of inspiration flowing from The Muse. Jam sessions make me so happy I could cry.
I’ve received other hints she’s back, and am trying to be wise about it. Naturally, I want to drop my life and go compose some music until I collapse from exhaustion. Instead, I redid my schedule to allow a set amount of time each day for creating music. See Alison adult. (Takes a victory lap around the
playroom office.) I’m reading The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy. It was mentioned in another novel. I’m enjoying it so much I’m off to continue.
P.S. Here’s an update on the quilt in progress.
I’m going to redesign my blog soon, so this is fair warning. There’s a good chance the new design will closely resemble the original. Visual anchors are important to me, so I don’t stray willy nilly. I’m aiming for visually appealing without being overwhelming. When you spend as much time on auto-pilot as I do, things flow more smoothly when there are no sudden changes. I’m at the point where I can tell the Prozac is no longer present in my system at a high enough concentration to work. I thought I would celebrate this moment, but instead, I’m proceeding with caution.
My intention has evolved to remaining off the drug permanently. I’m at a different stage in life where my priorities have shifted since my last summer Prozac purge. Things that weren’t even on my radar then are now significant. I think this is what’s led to being careful. I’ve mocked the amount of thought, and energy others spend on arranging for sex. It’s been an inside joke with myself for years because my complete absence of libido (thanks to Prozac) made it seem ridic and primal. I’m not laughing anymore. I’m kind of freaking out.
I’m trying to focus on how thankful I am this is happening now, and not when I was younger, and far, far more gullible and impressionable. (Maybe just one far.) M. is more mature than I am. Shocking, I know. 😂 I’m happy with this fact because he’s a good teacher. I’m learning how to be in the moment when in the presence of others. The universe has this lesson on auto-repeat, so I’ve conceded, (finally.) I’m certain I wouldn’t have survived being a kid with today’s internet. Zero doubt, because any kid with a debit or credit card is an adult online.
I’m actually pretty amazed I’m still kicking it, to be honest. (And a little smug because I die hard. 💪🏽) I just had an urge to create a video game that teaches people how to be safer online. (Suppresses the urge to begin a coding marathon.) I’m not very confident with this topic, but don’t know how to dance around it very well. My libido is back, and I forgot everything about being a sexual entity. I’ve lived for years without having it, and it’s like going to bed and waking up as a teenager, the sequel. (Except I involuntarily make a noise when I get up now, sometimes.)
So I’m kinda freaking out, but on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst… Kidding! I’m only mildly freaking. Memorizing Seinfeld has its uses. I know the script for the worst case scenario, so it’s all good. M. has a good attitude about it. Not many men would continue dating a woman who made him sign a No Sex Ever contract, (on the third time hanging out.) At least not many of the ones I’ve met so far. I doubt I’m the only one who uses this method, though. It’s efficient.
A lot of people just want to have sex and are doing the rest of the date to be polite. It saves time to know these things up front. I know about hookups and friends with benefits. It’s more shit that used to crack me up. Suddenly, I get it. I’ve been giggling all day because lots of jokes that weren’t funny (to me) at the time are hilarious today. I’m tripping on how much of an influence sexuality has on perspective. These are all the things most people probably noticed when they were teenagers. Or at least over a gradual transition.
Just one more thing to agonize over when deciding whether or not to take Prozac, I suppose. Everyone’s mileage will vary to some degree. It’s solidified my decision to refrain. I’m tripping and experiencing things I forgot existed, but I’m certain I prefer being the sexual being I was born to be. I also prefer being friends with The Muse and hated being in exile. I regret trading my creativity and sexuality for a comfortable, stable numbness. I realize now it was necessary initially, but not permanently. Any further use will be for stabilization only, (which is unlikely considering how long it takes to reach a therapeutic level.)
Whew. Okay, I’m calmed down now. This is no big deal. Aside from a slight decline in productivity, I see no cons. I’ll be glad when I can go for more than ten minutes without realizing another new implication. I can’t really afford to be more scatterbrained. Also, it’s occurred to me that Stevie Nicks probably has lots of fans who lust for her.
On Prozac, this information wouldn’t have occurred and probably would have led to my feeling concerned for her safety. Off Prozac: Duh! See what I mean? I’m more adulty today than I was yesterday, (it is now.) Yay. And because I’m a kind person, I’m going to stop tripping out loud. You’re welcome! I’m off to beat my drums with sticks.
I’m having lots of fun with the camp kids. S. taught us a type of meditation that focuses on breathing earlier. Then I taught them how to solder. I understand now why people choose to be teachers of children as a career. I’d like to elaborate but lack the words. We’re going on a nature walk to talk about design tomorrow. We’ve acquired three more kids whose parents work in the building. They’re older (14, 15, 17) and have been a delightful addition to the group. They ask answerable questions, for starters. 😂 (I don’t know how much the sky weighs, but love the question.)
I taught in the Army and while earning my Ph.D. I enjoy it, (but I get nervous.) S. has been great about keeping things flowing. (When someone asks a question, I usually lose my place.) One of the kids is super energetic. His mom said he gets in trouble at school. The camp is movement friendly. I think better when I walk around and imagine others may too. I don’t want the child wasting his concentration on remaining still when there are better things on which to focus. Sitting still is bad for our bodies, anyway.
I’m missing my drums even though I packed a practice pad. It’s not as fun. I’ve been spending more time with a guitar (that isn’t set up.) My fingertips object after about an hour, but I composed a melody. The inclination to tip the guitar up under my chin when I get to a hard part always cracks me up. (I have a less painful acoustic at home with a strap that helps prevent this.) I brought my 25 key midi keyboard, too. It works great with my iPad Pro. I’m going to play around with it this weekend. It’ll be my first time using GarageBand in ages.
I’m holding my breath regarding recent developments in affordable health care. I brought my emergency protest kit just in case. Hugs to everyone who is doing the same. Don’t lose hope. Remember, together, we’re America. We, the people, hold the real power in our unity. The vast majority of Americans support life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for *all* Americans. The opposition is trying desperately to hide their crimes. They’re not a force, they’re an embarrassment to humanity. The victory is ours, we just have to collect it. Stay peaceful. 💜