The Good and Bad Things That Are Going to Make My Life Difficult

I don’t know why this just hit me. Intellectually I knew, but somehow this just hit me, that these things are going to make my life more difficult, not just for the next year, but maybe my whole life.

Before I start I want to say this: this post is just mostly so people can understand, though I know it looks like I’m reaching for sympathy but mostly I want understanding and maybe some help here and there.

The Good
Note: by “good” I don’t mean these things make me better, but that these are actually part of who I am so I accept these things and even embrace them.

I’m a therianthrope.
I am a semargl. I can’t even be something a fraction simpler, like a wolf or a cat, but a creature that doesn’t exist in even mythology? Aye. Hell, I sound like a fluffy wannabe. No one in the therian or otherkin community has actually expressed that to me, thankfully.

I’m a Discord Pagan
Discordianism is half a fake religion and half a weird philosophy. It’s also awesome (in my opinion.) I’m also an eclectic pagan who wishes to practice magic, but can’t in my current situation. I can’t even ground my energy, mostly because of mental/emotional stuff I’m going through at the moment.

I’m a repulsed Gray-A
This is the newest part of my identity. Yes I’ve currently realized that I am bi-romantic, hetero-hypo-gray-sexual. Which means that I’m romantically attracted to both males and females (I don’t call myself pan-romantic simply because I don’t know anyone that isn’t cisgendered , sorry.)  Sexually attracted to males… but I don’t ever want to have sex, DO NOT WANT, etc. So I don’t see a problem with my conflicting romantic and sexual orientations, partially because having no sex drive means that I won’t feel unfulfilled, but I do see a problem with romantic relationships where the other partner might want or expect sex.

The Bad

I’m agoraphobic.
I’ve already explained this, but here’s a link to a video that explains how it feels, if you want to understand.

I have fibromyalgia
I don’t have anything to add to this. Here’s info on it, and here’s a letter written by someone else that more or less expresses how it is to be this way.

The … meh.

I’ve got Auditory Processing Disorder
This is only meh because compared to the rest of this list it really doesn’t affect me. It’s just difficult to understand what people are even saying sometimes, I have to watch my tv with captions to fully understand any words spoken (but I’m also listening, which is why it pisses me off when the captions don’t match exactly.) I can’t remember a list of directions spoken to me for my life. The only reason this does make my life harder is because I accidently piss people off.

I’m socially awkward
Like whoa. No kidding, I’m like a little like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory. I’m so out of sync with most people, I try to follow social protocols but unlike everyone else I have to consciously think about it to be able to.

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Quick talk about…

I’m mildly agoraphobic.

I have nothing of value to say about agoraphobia, but this is my blog, so…

It’s not as bad as other people’s agoraphobia, from what I’ve read. I’m not completely homebound. Or should I say room-bound? I don’t hyperventilate (I never have, so it may just be that it’s not something I go through when stressed) and I haven’t broken down in public.

When I’m in a place that’s crowded—a busy store, places in Manhattan, school, the hospital, conventions—and the people are either so numerous that they press in on my personal space, or if there’s less people than that but they’re all moving around in different directions and I have to get out of their way or if I have to move through the crowd myself… if something like that happens, I get nervous, my chest becomes tight, my breath becomes shallow, and my heartbeat increases. I duck my head, mutter things to other people (“Excuse me, pardon me, I’d like to go this way, excuse me, sorry, thank you…” over and over half under my breath.) If I’m with someone I’ll cling to them, their sleeves, their backpacks, and just ride along to a safe place. I’ll mentally go through my mantras and try to breathe slower but it doesn’t always work.
Surprisingly I was totally… almost totally fine back at Comic Con. It was both so crowded that I had no space to myself and people were moving all over, but it was so cool that I was properly distracted enough to not panic.

I was supposed to go to the hospital today. Not for me. But the hospital is far too nervous-making for me. Small hallways, people moving, clinical smell, feeling like I’m in the way, I just couldn’t do it today.

It’s too cold out. I never thought that this would have anything to do with my phobia, but it’s too cold. Let me see if I can explain this. I need an exit. I need to know where the exit is, or sometimes I’ll have to hang out near or in the exit. The problem is it’s too cold to be anywhere near an open door or window. Or even to go outside. Usually going outside would calm me down, but it’s too cold for that.

My friends understand. They let me cling to them in crowds, they give me assurances when I get panicky.

My parents… They don’t seem to notice when I cling to them, and sometimes when they do they get annoyed and tell me to stop. They’ve moved when I ask them to please not trap me, please stop blocking the exit. But when I can’t leave the house, or I can’t go to certain places, they get on me about it. School, today with the hospital…

I’m reading through a phobia forum now, wondering if I should join to share with the discussions, and they keep mentioning panic attacks. I know what one feels like, and while I do feel what must be the thing right before one, I’ve never had a full panic attack. This is a good thing.

And that’s all I have. Thanks for reading.

Hey I’m still alive.

… more or less.

Hi Internet.

Yeah I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.

Like the new name?

A Quick Update

  • I have started in a college class.
  • I have been diagnosed with Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. My right arm hurts everyday, and I may need a physical therapist.
  • I haven’t been writing anything good enough to post anywhere, but I have been writing.
  • I have sunk into a rut of doing nothing–this is very bad. I need something to occupy myself. I wish to learn a new language. Perhaps German, Japanese, Latin, or Mandarin. I do not know.
  • I wish to know more of folklore–I wonder if there is a career of that. Perhaps I should write a book.
  • My friends have all moved away. Most into the city.
  • I’ve wondered, many times, why in media when someone does not believe in God, they are automatically atheists.
  • I tried to watch The Celluloid Closet. Part of it was missing online.
  • I’ve gotten into Star Trek and House. My favorite Star Trek episodes are: I, Mudd. The City on the Edge of Forever. And Amok Time.
  • I am currently working on my halloween costume. It’s an Alp.
  • No one knows what an Alp is.
  • I might have settled as a red wolf.

Last day of school typing

Free!

I feel like I’ve been in a cage for the past 12 years, being force fed these facts… random knowledge being shoved down my throat forever. And while I tried to stay upbeat and not break… I’d eventually be free right?… but those facts that you didn’t want in the first place, the ones they tried to make stick to early in the morning before you’re even coherent, they then damn you for not remembering later.

This was my last year, I tried to take comfort in the fact that I was almost gone, I was almost free…

I’m intelligent, no really. At least, that’s what every teacher has ever told me.  “You’re a brilliant, creative, interesting, unique young woman.” But the way school was structured, it never allowed me to be what I could be. My friends are all brilliant too—and they fit into the educational system so naturally. They were all good with school. They all wanted to do what the school wanted from them—the grueling, spirit breaking work was their forte, the perfect niche. Their grades exceeded the “perfect” hundred, A++. I could scrape by with eighties, with B’s. They all have something “right brained” that they were good at too. Art or Music, and for some of them both! I love to draw, and with a pen I could draw cartoons that, if anything, were cute, sometimes funny. But those who were good at art were great, perfect. Even when I won a contest statewide for my “Beauty is…” Reflections piece, one of my friend’s pieces was right there too. And they were able to use paint as a medium, I’m stuck with pencils and pens. Or they had prowess with digital art—something I myself cannot afford or use without feeling like, somehow, I’m cheating. Forget music. When it was a required class I did well, surprisingly. But without someone making me practice and encouraging me, music does not stay with me. I’ve relearned how to read music about three times in my life, because I forget it so quickly.

This was my worst year. I was at my limit; I was at my breaking point. I knew I couldn’t survive this torture called school much longer.

With that in mind, I tried to take classes that could make me want to come in, and at the same time not be too difficult to do the work for or to get to. A cooking class was a good idea—and a great class to be in. Doesn’t matter that I was the only student there who actually wanted to learn how to cook—everyone else looking for an easy A, which wasn’t even there anyway. Automotive Technology was a complete waste. I went in to learn about the theory of cars, but nobody stopped to teach me anything, instead giving me little jobs that I was capable of doing—charging car batteries, pushing the cars outside, some computer jobs like typing, sweeping, etc.  Psychology was a good idea too—I loved it and was one of the few kids to both participate and pretty much know all of it before hand. The little projects in that class were fun… when I wasn’t stuck with a group, that is. The groups never really let me contribute. Taking a morning class was a stupid idea, but I have a reason. First, it was Shakespeare. I know I hate that old dead writer/actor man, but at least I knew stuff about it. And my friends were in that class. I missed a lot of that class, from being absent to just being too late to make first period. Because of this my second semester had me in an ordinary regents English class. I hated it. The students were frightening and mean and loud. The subject itself wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t even think about it because of the class atmosphere. Even the teacher was mean and not encouraging at all. In Mythology most of my friends were there, and the teacher was one of my favorites, and it was a nice class to be in. … At 7:30 in the morning, however, almost impossible for this 8-AM-waker. There were also no exams in this class, we were instead graded on a million assignments. Assignments I couldn’t really do, because the second I got home I crashed, my mind done for the day, refusing to reboot. I could only get work done on the weekends or holidays, when I had the ability to rest, meditate, and eat a good breakfast.

I knew I couldn’t do it.

I tried anyway.

I’m free, but I think I’ve broken.

It’s a little too late.

This is the feeling that I should take a year off. This is the feeling people get when they want a year off.

But

I’m only going part-time to college

And not until after the summer

I think I’ll be okay.

I have the summer.

To find myself.

To re-connect myself with the energy of the world and what-ever-else.

I feel broken

But I’ll survive.

And use this season

Of heat

And sun

And freedom

To glue myself back together.

… If my teacher simply can’t pass me, and I somehow have to go to summer school because I’ll be short

A HALF CREDIT

I’m not sure I’ll survive.

Today was the last day. At least an entire school year after my breaking point.

All the girls and teachers are crying. Because they’ll miss the classes together.

I’m crying because I think I was there too long. I broke. And even after I glue myself together

There’ll still be cracks

Obvious lines that show

Just how I broke.

If I have one of those 9 to 5 office jobs in the future, if I become a pencil pusher…

I’ll completely and utterly lose any bit of sanity and self I have left.

I think this summer

I need to be free.

I need this summer

I just need it.

Please don’t take it away.

Twilight =/= <3

Contrary to what people might believe, I don’t hate Twilight. I simply feel sorry for the author and dislike the majority of its fans. I also feel a great disappointment in her agent and/or editor, for letting the first book be published. It was her first time ever writing, and should have stayed with her as a learning experience. Obviously she should have then wrote something else, something better, rambled less, and gotten /that/ published (to look back at Twilight like I look back at Dragon with a Thousand Faces.)

Seriously, she should be embarrassed by the work, shrug, and say, “Oh well, it was my first try.” It’s a self-insert, with a Mary Sue narrator, a boring and unlikable love interest, little to no story, and it rambles. She rambles. Adding vampires that DON’T DRINK HUMAN BLOOD, not even by donors or anything…there’s a lot of “You fail biology/physics/science forever.”

How is she supposed to learn now?

Her other book, Host, wasn’t bad. Maybe I felt a little nostalgic for Animorphs, and had always felt sorry for the yeerks, which may have led me to like that book. But it still rambles for at least 300 pages.

For those of you saying, “But she saw it in a dream!”

Well.

Let’s summarize that dream into a neat little prompt, shall we?

“A teenage boy and a teenage girl are in a sunny meadow. He is sparkling like a diamond. Explain.”

She could have written a better story from that. Hell, I could write a better story from that. I might.

Muahahahah..

Future Plans

What do I want to do in the future?

I was thinking about it today, and my new idea? I want to move to California. This would be big, huge, but I think it’s the kind of thing I need. I think, in a little more than a year, when I turn 19, I should go.
Why? Well, I’ll tell you. In bullet points! (Don’t you love this little look into a cartoonist’s head?)

  • Independence. I need to get away from my parents. It’s a crutch—if I’m around them I’ll depend on them. And other things. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to go and try to earn my own way. At least a little.
  • It’s not too independent. I’d move in with my uncle. He tends to try to take care of me, sure, but I can’t go from this to the other extreme. I’d have to convince him to let me pay some rent, and to treat me more like a roommate then his niece—like splitting the work and buying half the food and cooking half the meals. I can’t live by myself. I also don’t think I could live without a cat or dog—at least not without feeling bad. He has this beautiful little dog that my mom and I had to take care of when he moved back to Cali himself.  Also, because I’d move in with my uncle, my loving smother would actually let me go.
  • Disney/Nickelodeon. Disney has an internship program that I wish to get into. Nicktoon Studios is in Burbank…not too far away to maybe visit, maybe become an intern there.
  • It’s not here. I want to leave…I’m so tired of this island/town/house/state. I mean, yeah I’m a New Yorker at heart but I want to go somewhere else. Especially now, when all of my friends are leaving for various colleges, and it’s the time in my life when I have to leave the nest.

I might not get accepted into college this year. It’s my own damn fault, and I’m okay with that. If that happens, I’ll just work and save up money. I’ll study on my own.

In March I’m going to start working for my father. And because he’s doing a political-who-could-care-less thing I won’t say who he is or who I am to keep our opinions and identities as separate as possible. I don’t like him going into the public eye, because he’s all “everything you do will represent me” and I’m like… “great.”
Wow, I just sounded like a teenager. I hate when that happens.
Anyway, me and my dad are very different people with very different opinions.
…I wonder if he’ll let me draw a political cartoon for his website…
…yeah I’m easily distracted today.

So, if I don’t get accepted into college this year, I’ll:

  • Ask for more than just three hours a day working for my dad.
  • Get a second job if that’s impossible.
  • Start freelance writing
  • Study on my own. (Online College courses?)
  • Start drawing/continue writing to actually publish a goddamn book of SOMETHING.

I’m going to need photoshop soon. Because I just remembered an old idea for a book I wanted to publish, and it involves photographs. And it would help with making a webcomic.

Books to try to make and publish:

  • Snapshots
  • DON’T PANIC. A guide for everything and nothing.
  • Reaper 379
  • Stories of a Solar System far away. (No real title yet)

…Maybe I should go actually work on those. Excuse me.

Yes, so. I like this new plan…but I’m afraid of actually telling my parents. And asking my uncle. My dad… sigh.