morethanthese: (Default)
I'd like to discuss a problem I have. It is about making an attempt to consume non-problematic material. The problem is that all the popular stuff is problematic (that is an exaggeration but not a huge one.) I'm aware that the case may be that, because it's popular, it has more visibility, and that allows a greater number of people to be aware of and criticize its problematic elements.

But the attempt to consume non-problematic material (not even because I'm being "socially aware" or anything - which is a perfectly valid reason for doing something by the way - it's just that consuming material that has glaring problematic flaws bothers me to the point where I cannot enjoy the thing), I have begun to consume material that few people have heard of. And this is a bit of a lonely experience.
It's all well and good that some people on Tumblr have heard of the things I like, but people IRL haven't. I used to bond with people over Doctor Who and Sherlock. Now I have lost the ability to enjoy these things (well. I've totally lost it with Sherlock and the only reason I associate myself with Doctor Who and all is for personal reasons and the fact that it has a longer history than some of the other things that are hailed as problematic, and somehow this...changes things for me, I don't know why).

I'm not going to find myself in a queue see someone wearing a Gravity Falls shirt and talk to them about the show because we immediately know we have that in common. I'm not going to see someone reading ´╗┐The Secret History´╗┐ and start fangeeking over it with them. I'm not going to notice a Caustic Soda button on somebody's bag and launch into a round of "lesser of two evils" with them. (Hell, the last of these things mentioned doesn't even have a Tumblr fandom, it doesn't have a fandom like at all.)
I wish my ethical and personal concerns didn't make it so that I can't meet people who like the same things.
morethanthese: (Default)
Trigger warning: Frequent mentions of depression and suicide

I've been worried about what will happen if Hannibal is cancelled and Season 3 doesn't happen. Because it's something of a realistic possibility.

I mean I know the episodes that have already been made aren't going anywhere (nor are the episodes from Season 2 that have yet to show) and neither is the fandom (I hope. Dear god, I HOPE.)

But I'm scared because while I'll still have those things,

all I can think of is how badly i was doing before i started watching hannibal

all i can think of is how i was sad because i felt disconnected from all my other interests and how i wanted a new fandom but i didn't know what that fandom would be

all i can think of is how i told my friend that i couldn't play a joke for april fools' because all my other jokes had been tumblr and facebook posts in which i basically loudly and exaggeratedly denounced whatever my interest or "thing" was at the time (one year it was doctor who, another it was writing) only to point out it was april fools' and how nothing i did this year would be funny because i didn't have any particular interest or "thing" at the time and the only "thing" i had was being suicidal and depressed, and "guess what guys I'm not suicidal or depressed anymore and life is beautiful and i enjoy living! jk april fools" just isn't funny and then sometime after april fools was over and i was into hannibal, i pointed out that if i had to make that post again, it would have been about hannibal

i'm nervous and i am getting ridiculously worked up over something so small and who knows, maybe if the show ends i won't end up going back where i was before it and maybe i'm worried over nothing and hannibal won't be cancelled after all but all i know is that i don't KNOW what's going to happen and if hannibal ends up being cancelled after all then i genuinely don't know what's going to happen to me


I had to walk around the room wearing my shock blanket and clutching my stuffed dog whilst Dr. L (oh, the irony) and I had to go through a plan as to what to do if Hannibal does end up being cancelled.

"If Hannibal ISN'T cancelled," he began, "what will you do?"

"Be happy," I said. "Everything will go on as normal."

"And if it IS cancelled, what will you do?"

"I'll be really upset."

"What will you do about that?"

"Try to stay in the fandom if it still exists. Re-watch the old episodes, read fanfiction. Maybe get into another fandom."

"What fandom will you get into?"

I don't remember the exact exchange that took place right after that but I somehow settled upon Attack on Titan as my next fandom. (I don't even know how I came to that but whatever.)

"So if Hannibal does not get past Season 2," said Dr. L, "you will be upset, but then you will re-watch episodes of the show, you will read fanfiction for it, and you will watch Attack on Titan."

"Yeah, what else can I do?"

"And you believe that, if the show is cancelled, you'll be depressed like you were earlier?"

"I don't know but it's likely."

"In which case, your plan seems about as good as any plan could be in the face of this situation."


Apr. 22nd, 2014 07:24 am
morethanthese: (strangely unhappy-looking will graham)
I've lost one of my dice.

The dice that I always kept in my pocket as an anti-anxiety tool. I've lost one of them.

I very well can't have the other two in my pocket without the third, so I guess I'm just going to forgo the others.

I'm not exactly MOURNING the loss of the dice but there's a weird sort of heaviness in my heart that may or may not have any right in being there.
morethanthese: (Default)
I think I love my hamster more than I love my queerplatonic partner.

I am really properly awful and I should not even be interacted with. (Which may have been a self-deprecating exaggeration but it's how I feel now.)


Apr. 20th, 2014 10:49 am
morethanthese: (dramatic hannibal)
Trigger warning: This post is essentially about suicide (though in the context of me wanting to commit it, not me actually going to commit it). It also makes continual references to Christianity and death in a non-suicidal context.

This Easter is not exactly going off positively so far.

I went to church with my family, which was nice until I realized, at some point, that the preacher was talking about how, because Christ has died for our sins and risen from the dead, we do not have to fear death if we have Christ inside us. This freaked me out because it occurred to me that this means I am not afraid of dying, and while not being afraid of death is a pretty good thing, it does facilitate my being suicidal. And while I'm glad I'm a Christian and while I'm glad I have hope for life after death, it's a little alarming to realize that the thing we're rightfully celebrating today is a thing that negates a popular argument against suicide. That is, the argument that you won't be free from your life if you kill yourself because you'll be dead and you won't enjoy it. If I killed myself, then, assuming suicide does not automatically send you to Hell (which doesn't make sense if you think about it, or at least not according to what I believe), I will not only maintain my consciousness, I will go to a place infinitely better than anything that could happen to me in the world, and certainly better than what I'm experiencing now.

I am not saying that my religion makes me suicidal, but I am saying that it is a reason I don't fear death and it is another reason I don't want to live in this world, and while I personally think these things are okay and even logical, it's a little alarming to realize how they interact with one's pre-existing mental health problems.

I feel like people want to celebrate life on Easter, but the origins of the holiday (to me, the true reason for the holiday) just make me want to die.
morethanthese: (cecil facepalm)
I've been upset a bit lately over the fact that my birthday's coming up and I'm unlikely to have a birthday party (other than the traditional party my family always gives me - by "traditional" I mean "my family always does a birthday party whenever it's someone's birthday").

My birthday has made me rather melancholy the last few years, probably because I've lacked people with whom to celebrate it. Friends, I mean. People with whom I want to celebrate things. People with whom I want to have fun.

One of my problems is that I just don't know how to have fun. I don't know what I like to do, largely because I don't know what there is to do. I just might play Cards Against Humanity online with some of my Tumblr followers (whoever shows up, really) and that'll be my birthday party.


I've done a little writing today - it was very difficult because I haven't really wanted to write lately. But I did get some stuff out. It was mainly a non-serious scene featuring the two main characters of my story in a situation where they're actually happy. Which isn't normal for them. But eh. I did writing.
morethanthese: (dramatic hannibal)
Today I realized that the "ideal person" I had imagined the other day could probably technically exist (in that there's nothing about the specifications about them that could not exist in a real-life person) but would probably also be very rare and difficult to find and I would probably never meet them.

I don't know which bothered me most - the realization that I do have a dream person or the realization that said person will probably remain a dream.


Apr. 14th, 2014 07:13 pm
morethanthese: (Default)
It is under a very particular set of circumstances that I can cry.

I must be indoors. I must be alone - this means having no one else in the room as well as having no one else in the house. I must be in a room that I identify as "my own".

This means there are three rooms in which I can cry - my room at my house, my room at my grandparents' house, and my room at my aunt's house. I am seldom alone at either my aunt's house or my grandparents' house. This means that my own room is essentially the only place in the world where I can bring myself to cry.

I am sorry I have to burden this room with my tears.
morethanthese: (Default)
I -

Something happened recently and it's been bothering me.

My facets are gone.

I don't know what happened, but there was a certain point at which I realized they weren't in my head anymore. I began to suspect it on the sixth of this month. January 6 is Sherlock Holmes's birthday, and given that he's one of my facets, I tried to summon him to celebrate it with me (since I had already been making plans to celebrate it as the birthday of a beloved fictional character and had totally forgotten that one of the residents of my head shared this character's identity and birthday). But I couldn't wake him up. I supposed that he just didn't want to be out, so I left it at that.

But a few days after that, I realized that my head had been empty for quite some time. There was usually a sort of "background noise" of sorts when my facets were still - occasional appearances made by them, little thoughts that were their own and not mine, comments on what I was doing - and it was entirely quiet. I hadn't noticed it but I noticed it now, and I think they really are gone.

A few people to whom I explained this problem told me that maybe they hadn't "disappeared" but instead became closer to me, or are really quiet. I don't think it's the latter. I think I would still feel the presence of more people than myself in my head. I do think they've become closer to me, but it's in the sense that their personalities and skills have all merged onto my own. They're still not here. They've just become me. Becoming someone doesn't mean they're still there with you.

True, it does mean that all the things they helped me do, I can do on my own now. I can be nice without Timothy. I can be responsible without Martin. I can appreciate my family without Loki. I can speak without Cecil.

But it still isn't the same. They were sort of like friends to me, and some of the things they did actually affected the external world, and it's so weird for these presences that did things that translated into the world outside their own to just not exist anymore.

There are some good things about not having them anymore. I don't have anyone else whose existence has to go unknown to most of the people I know. I can do things on my own, like I said before. And since my brain doesn't have to be taken up with their memories and thoughts, I think there's more room for my own. (Today, I read a very short factual book about a subject that interested me. Before, I probably would have remembered and retained about a third of it. This time, I retained everything except for a few anecdotes that were difficult for me to visualize. (It also taught me an interesting thing about how I learn: whenever I read something, I play it out like a film in my head. This I knew. But apparently I learn better when the film is clearer or easier to visualize. This is likely because, when I have to refer to the information, it's easier for me to do so. This could also be why it's so hard for me to remember science facts, even though science is really interesting to me.)

I still miss them, though. They were like friends, and it's going to be hard for me. I know this would seem so, so stupid to practically anyone else, but it's a bit important to me, and while I know it's probably for the best, it's not going to be very easy. Likely I'll miss all of them dearly, and probably one-by-one. I'll probably be doing things and think, "Arthur would have come out while I was doing this thing, and we'd have enjoyed it together" or "Loki would have been so happy to see my sister so happy". I'm certain I'll find it much harder to do certain things because I don't have someone in my head to call up to help me do it.

Just because it's for the best doesn't mean it feels good.
morethanthese: (Default)
I deserve a bit of a medal.

I sat through dinner with my family, which was okay, and I sat through after-dinner conversation, which was even more okay, because we talked about interesting and often amusing things.

But at some point, I started getting really anxious and I needed to be alone. I needed to not be around people. Maybe it's because I've sort of been around people all day, maybe it was a legit mental illness thing (I don't know anymore), but I needed to go. But I couldn't. My dad was talking, and there was zero way I could get out of the conversation. And every time I thought he was done, he wasn't, and I bravely sat through it even though my head was screaming at me and I wanted to cry and hyperventilate somewhere.

The conversation finally ended, but then my sister wanted to show us some YouTube video. Well, there was zero way I could get out of THAT, either, and I followed them and watched the video. Fortunately, it was only a minute long, but it was a minute more than I thought I could stand being around people.

Finally I got out and finally I'm here and I have no idea what's going on with me or what I'm doing. I do know that I will probably get to actually be by myself, though, so whatever's going on, I can work through it. I'm making myself a giant pot of tea, which is difficult because I've sort of lost motor control and stuff like that right now. I wish I knew why. That'd be nice.
morethanthese: (Default)
Hello. It's 2014 now. 2013 was a total sod, so I'm glad that 2014 is happening now. I started 2014 by watching "The Time of the Doctor" (the Doctor Who episode where Eleven regenerates - I hadn't seen it yet, hadn't had the chance) and I think the Doctor's views towards regenerating were pretty good for me to know. He said it was okay to become a new person, because that's how life is, as long as you don't forget who you were in the past. Maybe this year I'll become a new person. I'll become someone who's not a whiny self-pitying sod with a god complex and a co-dependent need to identify with whatever group of person is easiest for me to be part of. That would be nice.

Now, today started out brilliant (I drank three wineglasses full of tea, did a fiction submission, watched Doctor Who with my Aunt Dee-Dee, Uncle Gary, and Becky - my sister and I spent the night at our aunt and uncle's on New Years Eve - I ate a waffle with whipped cream for lunch), and then I...well, I went home to talk to my dad about things (namely how I was going to my grandparents' house today to spend the night - I'd had his permission). I didn't make him angry per se, but I did do something that got an irritated reaction from him and he's not listening to things that my sister and aunt are saying, by which I mean he's misinterpreting them through not properly hearing or comprehending some things they're saying. It's not a big deal (well, not to me, because I'm not at my house right now) but it is business as usual for me, and I don't like that this is business as usual, especially since, for most of the end of December, it wasn't business as usual and I just wish it weren't business as usual.

I'm at my grandparents' house and I'm going to sleep here and I'm just avoiding things now.

I had a conversation with my aunt Suzanne wherein she suggested that I might be a miracle - that is, my very existence might be a miracle, much like, say, in Doctor Who, some of the characters' very existences are time paradoxes - because I'm able to do a lot of things that I simply shouldn't be able to do. (I pick up skills and become good at them in a ridiculously short amount of time, I can do most of my school by getting by on BS skills, I do a number of disordered behaviors that I should have repercussions for but don't). I didn't feel comfortable with that because 1. I don't believe legit God-given miracles are very common and not lengthy enough events to cover the lifetime - no, the existence - of another person, and 2. the only person whose existence I believe was a literal miracle was Jesus Christ, and...well, I do not think it is my place to be put on a comparable level to that of the savior of mankind and all.

It's a real shame I had to refute the idea that my existence is a miracle (as in, a literal one, not a figurative one - not like how Gamzee calls things miracles or anything). I refuted it on basis of the fact that I don't think real miracles work like that. It would be really nice to let someone think I am a literal miracle, but you can't think things based on how nice they seem on a metaphorical level. You can't treat metaphors like they're reality.

No one had ever called me a miracle before and now I'm sad I had to explain to her that I wasn't.

I apologize for how rambly this thing was. Due to anxiety due to the thing with my father, I took one of my anti-anxiety pills, and they calm me down but they make my head go all funny, and yeah.


Dec. 28th, 2013 01:13 pm
morethanthese: (Default)
Every so often, my brain undergoes a "reset" about certain information. It tends to be following some sort of trauma or negative experience, and the information tends to be at least tangentially related to the bad thing that happened. "Reset" might perhaps be the wrong word, as I don't forget that things exist, but I do fail to understand them personally anymore. After graduating from my old school (probably the most traumatic thing I've ever had to endure), I underwent a reset about empathy. This was rather difficult and I've still had trouble getting my ability to empathize back. Sometime after my mother died, I inexplicably underwent a reset about hugging - that is, I forgot how to properly give people hugs. (The fact that I am touch aversive does not help matters.)

This year, I underwent a reset about Christmas. I remembered what Christmas was, its history and meaning (that is, an observation and celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ), and how people celebrate it in my country (that is, with Christmas trees and presents and hanging up stockings). But it was the customs I failed to understand on a personal level. I saw everything as though I were not a foreigner who didn't celebrate Christmas so much as an alien who didn't even understand holidays.

If you think about it, a lot of things we do at Christmas are a bit strange. We put socks near our fireplaces, we put trees in our house, we put decorations on the tree, we put lights on the tree, we put lights on our houses, we put lights on many things, we sing songs we don't sing any other time of year, we give people presents regardless of whether or not we like them and we expect the same of them. I have a penchant for realizing the strangeness in things everyone else takes for granted, and this year, this penchant extended to Christmas.

I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas this year (I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen it since then), and I related perfectly to Jack Skellington in Christmastown singing "What's This". I was delightfully puzzled by the things we do for Christmas and how we seem to do them in mass numbers, like some madness takes us all in December and we act upon it. It wasn't a bad thing. I actually really liked it, because like Jack Skellington, I was discovering something new and being perfectly enchanted by it. I like Christmas and I always have, and it was strangely enjoyable to do all these things that didn't make sense to me but that were fun nonetheless.

Around the time Christmas Day rolled around, I had fully internalized the Christmas traditions we collectively do, and I thought they were "normal" enough for me to have a normal Christmas with everyone else.

Well, I thought I was having a normal Christmas. My dad and sister and I opened presents on Christmas morning, like we've done in years past, and we went to our Aunt Suzanne's house to meet with other family members like we've done in years past. It all felt normal, and since I couldn't really remember what other Christmases felt like, I went along with it.

However, when we came home, my dad told us that, since this is our first Christmas without our mother, we don't really know what a "normal" Christmas is like, so we did our best under the circumstances, and we did pretty well.

I agree with him that we did well, but with that statement, I understood why I had undergone a reset about Christmas. I understood why I didn't personally understand Christmas traditions and why my memory had purged itself of the feelings of Christmases past and why I didn't recall what a normal Christmas was. It was the same reason people's memories often purge themselves of traumatic incidents. It was a self-defense mechanism.

It was because, if I had remembered, I would remember that my mother wasn't around for this Christmas, and given that she was always so involved with us during this holiday, I wouldn't have been able to deal with that.

I spent the rest of the night (not that there was a whole lot of it) feeling kind of traumatized and not actually covering myself with a blanket and rocking back and forth in the corner but definitely feeling like that on the inside. I stayed like this long after my family had gone to bed (I often stay up later than them, and I don't know why), and after a while, I realized I had to go to bed, too, despite the fact that my feelings hadn't gone away.

It was a shame. It really was. Because I had enjoyed my confusion over Christmas until then. It made the holiday season whimsical and interesting, and on Christmas Day itself, I had to go and realize it was for a very unhappy reason.
morethanthese: (Default)
You know what?

I choose to accept the grade I got in math.

I choose to accept that B.

I choose not to view it as mediocre.

I choose to no longer say that A is for "average" and the B is for "bad". I choose to say that A is for "awesome" and B is for "brilliant".

And you know what? I quite like the word "brilliant".


Dec. 15th, 2013 09:44 pm
morethanthese: (Default)
Okay so I just saw my final grade in my Math class, and it's a B.

I don't know how I feel about this.

On one hand, given that I was afraid of literally failing the class, it's pretty cool that I DIDN'T fail. On the other hand, my family was really happy about me and they were congratulating me and I felt kind of conflicted on the inside because they were congratulating me on mediocrity. See, I see B's as mediocre. I'm supposed to get A's. A's are what I normally get.

They're so happy for all the hard work I put in, they're going to celebrate. Like we're going to go out to dinner or something to celebrate my good grade. It made me feel nervous. Here's my family, being happy - that's a good thing, right? - and they're being happy over me doing something really ridiculous, like getting a B. Getting what, for me, is a below-average grade. But I worked really really hard to get that below-average grade, and now I just don't know how I feel.
morethanthese: (Default)
Today was a difficult day for me, emotionally.

It started in my English class (as so many things in my life do, apparently). My teacher was telling us things about how he wanted us to leave his class as "people of conscience" (his term; I quite like it, actually), people who learned to think critically and accept other perspectives and make good choices. It was really a lovely speech he gave us - he said a lot of nice things I agreed with - but it made me sad because it made me realize, "Oh crud, I'm leaving this class. I'm really leaving it. I loved this class and I have to say goodbye to it. I have to say goodbye to the teacher, and I have to say goodbye to my classmates, and I have to say goodbye to the great discussions we had and the wonderful environment and jlk;dfjgoiaejdgosfg I can't do this oh no oh no". At that point, my brain started having a freakout and I wanted to cry in class, but I wasn't going to do that. I really really wanted an object to squeeze, like a small stuffed animal or something, but I didn't have anything. I took out the dice in my pocket (because I keep three dice in my pocket at all times - it's an anxiety thing) and I rolled them around in my hand, but it only helped a little bit.

I'm not very good at losing people and things. I lose people and things all the time, usually for school reasons, but it's very difficult for me because I want to get attached to things and have them in my life for a long time, but this can't happen for me. (This is what kept my eighteenth birthday and graduation from high school two years ago - my birthday is really close to the end of the school year - from being enjoyable events. I was afraid of losing the people I'd become so close to and the place I had come to love. My relationship with my old school; there's a story, maybe I'll tell it sometime.)

Anyway, after class, I went on to take my obscenely long break. (By "obscenely long break", I mean "my class schedule gives me a full hour between my first and second classes".) One of my acquaintances found me in the place I normally hang out during that break. It was nice, because she was one of the first people I met this semester, and we have genuinely interesting conversations, but it's unlikely we'll take any of the same classes next semester, and we had a conversation I really liked. But as the conversation ended, we talked about my difficulty in making friends - I have trouble getting close to people, and it usually takes me a long time to really become friends with someone. But I can tell if I'm about to become friends with someone, and it's annoying and upsetting when I have to leave them before we can really become friends. We talked about that and the fact that I don't really have friends (not ones I see in real life, anyway).

Trigger warning for domestic abuse. )

I was expecting my math class to be over really quickly, but it wasn't. I was expecting us to turn in our homework, get our take-home tests, and leave. Because our test was a take-home test, because the teacher was absent so many times (she's having family trouble, as I understand it), and there wasn't enough time for her to prepare us for the test, so she gave us the advantage of having a take-home test. I'm going to review it with a cousin of mine who's very good at math, and I hope I get a good grade, because I'm practically failing math. I have a 73%, and I'm used to getting really good grades on things. Academics, you see, is pretty much the only thing I'm good for that matters. And I'm failing in one of my classes. Granted, I'm terrible at math anyway, and that's not really my academic strong point, but it's making me unhappy enough that my self-esteem has taken a tremendous drop because of my math class.

Anyhow. We didn't just get our test and go on our merry way. Apparently, there was material we still had to learn, and while I understood it pretty well, it made me unhappy and a bit anxious that my math class went on much longer than I thought it would.

Trigger warning for disordered eating. )

Trigger warning for self-harm. )

Things got somewhat better after that, though. I guess there's a certain point in the day where, if I've been having a hard enough day, I'm just so emotionally spent that I can't be sad anymore, so I immediately get ridiculously happy. This is what happened today. After eating, I did some drawing while listening to Christmas music. I have decided that one of my favorite things about the holiday season is the fact that I can listen to Christmas music without feeling dorky. Because I rather like Christmas music, at least classic Christmas music. It makes me feel nice much of the time. I also drew some 60-Second Zacharies. The term "60-Second Zacharie" refers to the fact that I recently discovered that I have the special talent of being able to draw Zacharie from OFF in about a minute and have it look kind of good. It kind of turned into an exploration of different facial expressions on Zacharie, though, and I was kind of pleased with the result. It looked like this:

I drew a few more unhappy-looking Zacharies than happy-looking ones, which is interesting, because I was actually really happy when I was drawing these. Also, notice how I don't even try to draw hands so that they look good anymore. Also, notice how I drew cat mask Zacharie once and then did toad mask Zacharies all after that. I've decided I prefer drawing toad mask Zacharie.  Also, yes, that is a little drawing of Zacharie with Sugar and the Batter. I thought it would be nice to see them together where they're happy (or at least two out of three of them are happy. Happy!Batter is a bit of an odd thing to imagine.)

Tomorrow, I'm taking a self-care day. I'm going to stay at home (declining an offer my aunt made for me to help her work at her school - she's a kindergarten teacher, and sometimes I help her). I'm going to knit, I'm going to watch a movie or two, I'm going to do a little homework, I'm going to do some writing, I'm going to send some poems and stories to publishers, and I'm probably going to do some drawing.

I suppose it can only get better from here. I've had a rough week/week and a half (my really bad feelings started like maybe two weeks ago and didn't really get bad until maybe ten days ago or something?) and I need things to get better. I think they're going to get better. I really really hope my saying that won't make it go wrong, because I find that, as soon as I say something or make a prediction, it turns out to be totally false. I hope that's not the case. Well, I can't think of why things wouldn't start getting better. That's something, at least, eh?


morethanthese: (Default)

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