#I never got covid but this would be how I'd act if I got it

[mrfoox]

Just learned I can make someone sick weeks after getting well myself with this shit and I'm so fucking paranoid 👍

[copperbadge]

How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at copperbadge@gmail.com. GOOD LUCK!

[f1-birb]

ugh those "oscar" fans (in inverted commas bc as i said to you the other day i don't believe they're real oscar fans - easy to tell from the fact they invariably have certain other drivers' numbers in their bios that are "coincidetally" the fanbases who cannot leave lando alone).

they've even recently tried 'lando doesn't care about mental health, he never posts about it, x,y,z driver posts about it more'. no, he doesn't post shallow tweets occasionally paying lip service to it, nor does he do 'i went to discover what this mental health thing is all about' pr drivel like certain others do on the odd occasion they remember they claimed to care about it.

instead he has put his efforts into effecting real change where he can irl. he talks honestly and frankly about his own ongoing struggles on live tv and in interviews like the one he did with jon last year. it's well-known how much impact famous young men speaking openly about their struggles has on other young men who are struggling, a group who have such a high rate of mh issues and suicide. like your other anon said, by being open and honest he steered mclaren toward taking mh seriously starting when he was only 19 years old, is the reason they were the one team that got their team members proper mh support during covid, is the reason they have the partnership with mind, and his work bts has led to them now having a trackside psychologist for the team and having recently hired a second, have a proper mental wellbeing team at the mtc. he is one of only two drivers who spoke out in the media as far back as 2021 about the worry of the mh impact of the increased calendar on the trackside teams, zak has also said lando spoke to him about his concerns for the crew and that was one of the things that made him act accordingly - mclaren started rotating their trackside team as far back as early 2022, increasing that more through 2022 & 2023, since early last year have been running test sessions to train new engineers and mechanics so they can be added to the rotation and have recently completed another round of recruitment for working toward them having 3 people in every position that they can rotate across the year to give their staff a proper rest. a couple of people who work at mclaren have also said that lando took it on himself to talk with them and care about them when he heard on the grapevine they were struggling and i doubt they're the only ones he's done that with. he has used his position to push for change & lead by example in the place he is most able to, his own workplace, where it has had a real and meaningful impact on people's lives. and that has spread out across the paddock with other teams starting to follow mclaren's lead. (seb also had a similar impact on mh work within aston martin once he joined them in 2021) it is so much more than lip service or a bit of pr. effecting change is not about how much you post about something on social media.

a lot of people don't realise how much he's done within mclaren because he doesn't blow his own trumpet about it 24/7 but zak, andrea and other team members have let out bits here and there about how much he really cares. andrea has also spoken at length about how much lando did to help him keep the team's spirits up in 2023 when things were bad (and andreas seidl said the same of him in 2022). there is also someone who works at the mtc who posts in the mclaren sub on reddit occasionally who said early last year that whenever lando was at the mtc he took the time to go around every single department individually and talk to them and encourage them and thank them for all their efforts and assure them things would come good, and the mclaren guy said how much that meant to people who work there. (he posted in response to some fans saying lando must make mclaren workers feel like shit because he talks in interview about the car being bad)

also oscar going to the great barrier reef is fantastic. i'd imagine they reached out to him to help with awareness and he was very happy to do so while he was able to be in australia for a while. he and lily were in queensland over the break (he posted a pic of them in noosa) so maybe he got talking to people then that made him want to be involved. and honestly how dare those "fans" turn it into something to bash lando with instead of recognising the great initiative oscar himself has taken and the platform for awareness of the work being done there that it is.

sorry this is really long. these people make me go into rant mode every time.

anon I knew all of that and you still made my eyeballs very very wet 🥺

no notes, this is perfect

and what you said about Oscar echoes what I said before, using things to bring down Lando diminishes the praise for Oscar

like celebrate what Oscar is doing and has done, let him have that without having to bring up other people

[mochicrackersss]

Blog Post - Convention Preview ᯓᡣ𐭩‧₊˚ ⊹

I've always enjoyed participating in fandom experiences! Though, I haven't been to anything crazy, like Comic-Con or Anime Expo. My most notable were just a few local Florida conventions. But they were still fun overall and gave a great look into youth culture and fandom communities with its vast amount of participants around the globe and things tailored for each fandom.

My first convention was PolyCon at Florida Polytechnic University. I don't remember much about it because it was a couple of years ago, but would say it was a good time! The convention itself was pretty quaint with not a lot to do and not many people attending besides Polytechnic students. But for being my first exposure to convention life, I was enamored. There was also a student-run maid cafe that was amusing to go to, specifically because my dad came to the convention with me. Younger me had absolutely no idea how to explain to my dad why a bunch of college students were in cat ears, maid costumes, and doing intricate dance routines. He was so confused... it was lowkey hilarious but also embarrassing.

I'd say the most memorable convention memory I have is when I went to Mega Con in 2021! It wasn't super long after the COVID quarantine got lifted, and so until then, I hadn't gone to anything or seen many people for what felt like a long time. Being able to go to a convention (of course, by then it was safe to be in public spaces) and simultaneously going with my best friend for her first time was just what I needed. However, it was very different with COVID regulations still in place, like masks and social distancing. But I did notice the convention felt like a sense of normalcy for many con-goers after the pandemic. Everyone I met was so kind (and that's rare because you're bound to run into a few bad eggs or creeps), and every cosplayer I saw, even with the masks, made the most out of their costumes! My best friend and I also tried to cosplay as our favorite characters from Demon Slayer because the anime was a huge comfort to us while we holed up inside our homes with nothing to do. Yes, I think my costume was horrible because I am no professional, and I lowkey hate looking at pictures of it, but it did act as a nice escape from the COVID-filled reality at the time. Because of that, I was so happy to spend that precious time with my best friend! And buy a lot of stuff in the artist alley because Mega Con's is so big lol.

Another convention I went to earlier this year was the University of Florida convention, Swamp Con! I never knew until later in my first semester that UF held its own convention, and I think more students should know about it! Swamp Con is an event completely run by students in the Reitz Union, which I think is super impressive based on how many activities there were to do! There were panels, quizzes, performances, cosplay contests, an artist alley, outdoor games, special foods and drinks, and even a maid cafe (which was so funny to see a second time in a college). I also cosplayed again for this convention as Sophie Hatter from Howl's Moving Castle, which is such a huge shocker based on my Tumblr. 

Overall, the convention setting on a college campus took an unseen pressure off, which is something I also remembered feeling at PolyCon. I thought that would be an interesting thing to point out compared to venue conventions! 

[zukadiary]

Kazuki Sora taidan diary 〜 2024.2.11

(also kind of a Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail / Frozen Holiday write up)

I've now woken up eight times in a world where Kazuka Sora is an OG (changing that number daily, as I've been trying to write this for six days), and the sense of having somehow slipped into a severely incorrect timeline is getting progressively stronger. Coupled bizarrely with that is deep, deep gratitude that, despite everything that's happened in the last four years, and especially in the last five months, she got a gut-wrenchingly, absolutely devastatingly beautiful taidan. I can't say perfect, because perfect would have been after a well deserved top star run. But barring that, I never dreamed it would get this close.

Long post incoming.

I have to set the stage...

Once upon a time in 2013, Asaka Manato, then nibante in Ouki Kaname's Soragumi, got her turn starring in Brilliant Dreams +NEXT, a multi-part Sky Stage series where you got to like, do some stuff of your choice with other people in your troupe. She decided to recreate some of her favorite revue choreography, and a friend alerted me that one episode was dedicated to the infamous Rosso scene from Takarazuka's Dream Kingdom (which, as you can see in the linked post, completely short circuited noob me from a decade ago). Maasama was still a good 2+ years from winning me over at the time, and I think I reluctantly watched it with some level of offense that she touched a Komu thing. As I'm sitting in front of my computer rolling my eyes, out comes this tiny thing in capri pants, mismatched socks, suspenders, and thick glasses: ken-4 Kazuki Sora, here to report on the situation in the rehearsal room.

She spent her airtime cracking jokes, tripping on her tongue, riding on Susshi's shoulders, and generally acting like Soragumi's annoying kid brother. I thought she was funny.

Another friend told me she thought she was tracked. I absolutely did not believe her.

Then, against a fair amount of adversity, she got the 100th anniversary Rose of Versailles shinko lead, and my eyes widened a bit. The next time I found myself in Japan, I was gifted a 9th row seat to what coincidentally happened to be her first ginkyou crossing in PHOENIX Takarazuka! I'd been spending the show curiously scanning the stage for her, and when I witnessed the gap between reporter and performer, my jaw hit the floor.

Afterwards, my kangeki companion asked if I was interested in anyone in the troupe. I said Kazuki Sora. She recoiled and said "but she's so short."

***

Something that I noticed during this taidan trip is that covid-era fans met a wildly different Sora than I know. Growing up in 2010s Soragumi was uniquely rough. I'm not even talking about ::hand waves:: the present circumstances and what may or may not have lead up to them; I mean they persisted with a level of star saturation through the dawn of the pandemic that had kinda crazy consequences for the otokoyaku track. Not only was the track itself overcrowded, but the troupe also held onto a number of non-tracked upperclassmen to whom they seemed unwaveringly committed to casting in juicy roles. I remember when things seemed so untenable that Soragumi fans were universally on pins and needles waiting for what felt like an inevitable big transfer out, and I remember freezing in shock on the side of the road when instead they transferred Serika Toa in.

Here's some analysis for perspective:

Kiki is the third oldest top of all time, and spent more time as nibante alone than Tamaki Ryou took to get from debut to top.

Lord knows how long Soragumi will be in this state of flux, but if they come out of it and Kiki gets a normal number of shows, AND Sakuragi Minato is next, Zun could immediately overtake Kiki for third place

Speaking of Zun, her first two-city lead was in 2020. Looking at her top star douki, Rei Makoto's and Yuzuka Rei's were in 2017, and Tsukishiro Kanato's was in 2018.

Rukaze Hikaru's first bow lead was in 2019, two years later than her other tracked douki, Akatsuki Chisei (four if you count A-EN).

Slightly more invisible but just as devastating, the lessened exposure on stage between leads has likely resulted in lower fan club numbers and less overall popularity.

...and back to Sora. Hundreds of us filled Hibiya Park this past weekend, but Sora spent her early Takarazuka career so buried that, despite being a triple threat on stage and an utter delight off, her fan base was small enough that at ken-7 they let me, not yet even a club member, accompany my friend to demachi where I became the third attendee. For years, Sora was, frustratingly, an in-person only watch. I'd go to Japan, memorize her positions, miss the rest of the show for following her with my opera glasses, and pop in the DVD at home only to find her always just off screen. A Motion was one of the most fun times I've had in a Takarazuka theater, and on the DVD during my favorite Sora SOLO, the camera is on Sorahane Riku wordlessly dancing.

I was floored when she got Anita. I was livid that she could give THAT PERFORMANCE and immediately afterwards be cast as an ensemble soldier in Red River (although she was so good in Citrus Breeze that after 5 years of deluding myself that I "couldn't betray my beloved Yukigumi like that" ((ironic, right?)) I finally caved and joined club). I stress dreamed multiple times about the impending bow announcement before she got Hustle Mates. I cried when she finally came down the stairs between two musumeyaku in Ocean's Eleven at ken-10, in which she played Linus, a role that felt like a big break even though it had previously always gone to ken-6s. FINALLY, the massive Ocean's taidan relieved a little pressure, and I felt a tangible thrill when suddenly she was all over the Aqua Vitae shonichi digest, something that had never happened before.

That's where we left off in February 2020, when the Diamond Princess docked in Yokohama, and my therapist didn't know what I was talking about when I said I was giving myself a stomachache watching live case numbers ahead of my scheduled trip, and I canceled my flight, and I put my freshly printed pack of homemade Suleiman postcards under my bed, and I didn't see her for 4 years 4 months and 3 days.

***

It's hard to talk about Sora's taidan announcement and not come off as biased and overly dramatic, given that she's my girl. But in 11 years of countless taidan announcements, I've never come close to being as blindsided by one as I was with hers. The vibe I've gotten is that fans, siennes, and patrons alike were all properly shocked.

I'd spent the better part of a decade internally screaming for Takarazuka to act like they recognize her undeniable talent. Frustratingly, it finally started happening during covid. While I was living under the impression that Hustle Mates was a genuine miracle, she got an unimaginable second lead... then, thanks to the breathing room in her new Yukigumi home, a third... and then a fourth. Having been burned for so long, I've always firmly been team I-don't-think-Sora-is-going-to-make-top, but despite that, I was actually starting to believe it could—dare I say would—happen. I wasn't even certain the people murmuring on twitter that she might leapfrog Aasa were completely delusional. I went into Hyperbolic Chart, my looooong awaited reunion, excited to assess Kasumi Sana as her potential future partner. I enthusiastically bought all her postcards for future writing, because the last time I'd seen her, she, at ken-10, didn't have postcards.

Two days after that I found myself again frozen in shock on the side of the road.

Two days after that.... yeah.

***

Somehow, despite 11 years of knowing how this works, of weathering various taidans with friends, of crying in bathrooms until they started cleaning the theater at taidans that weren't even technically mine, I was also completely blindsided by the taidan experience itself.

Part of it was definitely the time skip, from years of intimate Sora fandom to nothing to a couple of A-seki (she's the it girl now!) for a lead I wouldn't have chosen with a troupe I barely recognize anymore to bye, she's gone. Part of it was being thrown back into this after 4+ years of pandemic-dulled emotions, followed by the exhaustion of Takarazuka's crisis era. Part of it was lowered expectations from the largely uninspired and under funded lineup of forgettable shows churned out by tired directors of dubious morality. Part of it was the disaster-shortened Mura run, the self-preserving dissociation fueled by the pain and disbelief that there was a dinner show and I wasn't at it, followed by a month and a half stretch of work so busy it was still going while I sat at the ANA gate for my 1am flight.

But I got here and squeezed into one of those red seats and then all at once I was an unsealed vacuum, cracked wide open, and Doyle and Frozen Holiday rushed in and filled the airless void till it burst.

Boiled Doyle on the Toil Trail

I've been down on Yukigumi.

Yukigumi has been my home troupe for the vast majority of my fandom. I had the fancy Swarovski crystal Yukigumi bag charms, the whole Yukigumi getup from Sports Day '14, Yukigumi albums, Yukigumi chopsticks, etc etc etc. I literally didn't join Sora club for years because I couldn't imagine being pulled out of Yukigumi. But while I was locked out of the country, the march of time took my favorite top star and the vast majority of my emotional support upperclassmen. The pandemic spit Yukigumi out in a state that just made me reeeeeeeeally sad. So I stopped watching them. That's the exact moment they picked to put Sora there.

I hate to admit it, but I still haven't totally caught up on her Yukigumi time.

Which is probably the main reason this show caught me SO off guard... even having watched AND enjoyed the Mura livestream. Sora is best watched in person, after all.

Doyle—a silly take on Arthur Conan Doyle's life, and how he used a magic pen to write Sherlock Holmes by accident, thus setting into motion a runaway series of events—is not only a fun and joyful show, it's a masterpiece of casting. The top 4 were at their absolute peak, and it was a thrill to watch.

I've been watching Ayakaze Sakina since her shinjin kouen days, and my write-ups over the years probably betray my rollercoaster hot and cold journey through her career. I really liked Doyle as a lead for her though. She essentially plays a big idiot wifeguy with a dream, an imaginary best friend, and little conviction; she was very funny and charming. If you were one of the lucky few who managed to see On the 20th Century, think that guy but earnestly the main character vs. dude with main character syndrome. The older I get, the more I have a soft spot for shows where the top combi has "ecstatically celebrating at least their tenth wedding anniversary" energy, and this was one of those.

...Thanks in large part to Yumeshiro Aya, who is absolutely everything. She may be boosted by consistently reminding me of Shirahane Yuri since her partial lead in the 103s Bunkasai, but she also has a very particular type of girlboss energy that I don't feel like I've seen in quite a while. It isn't wearing the proverbial pants energy (a la early TamaChapi), but it is overwhelming I got this energy. I find her to be the absolute embodiment of a top musumeyaku, in that she understands the assignment (making the top star better), while perching on the edge of the backseat just enough that she doesn't overpower Saki, but she's still a knockout in her own right. She probably exudes an extra dose of this energy as Louisa Doyle, who plays a very similar role in her husband's life and writing career. I could not be more thrilled that Aya isn't retiring yet.

Asami Jun plays the aforementioned imaginary friend/magic pen-generated apparition, who happens to be Sherlock Holmes. Some people I've talked to seem a little disappointed in her stage time, but I really felt like this was also peak Aasa. She seems to have broken through a layer of ceiling and gotten really comfortable leaning into her c***y unique energy, which, though I can picture it being polarizing, really does it for me. I sure as hell have never seen an interpretation of Sherlock Holmes REMOTELY like Aasa's, but I was enjoying the Aasa of it all so much that I really didn't care.

When I saw that Sora was playing the editor of Strand Magazine, I was somewhat disappointedly imagining a role like Lestrade (not to invoke another Sherlock), the sort of there-but-not character that has dominated her Takarazuka career since she started getting named roles. My first surprise was how good of a role this was in general, and then how well suited it was to her. She gets to be aloof and handsome, but also incredibly upbeat and funny at times. Her little coworkers at her utterly failing magazine are obsessed with her (which is the mood of the century), and there is a cute little meta moment where Doyle threatens to stop writing Sherlock and Sora tries to quit her job, only to be restrained physically by said coworkers (which is the mood of the moment). Everything from the set of her off-gray permed wig to her 4 or so different plaid suits to her opening solo number was absolutely perfect (not as perfect as it was gonna be later!!!!!).

FROZEN HOLIDAY

It's weird watching a Christmas show in February

I rapidly stopped caring

Speaking of rollercoasters of hot and cold, Noguchi used to be my most hated revue director, hands down. Circa 2017-18, after being deeply personally burned by Super Voyager (and deeply personally confused by Beautiful Garden), the tension I felt while awaiting show announcements hoping I wouldn't have to watch another Noguchi was intense. Noguchi revues being something people covet nowadays still feels unfamiliar, but I count myself among people.

He turned it around for me with the Takarazuka equivalent of winning the grocery store ingredients episode of Project Runway: Delicieux, a covid-budget masterpiece of public domain music and foam macarons (incidentally, also a goodbye to Sora of sorts, as it was her last Soragumi revue). I officially owe him my life after what he did for her in Frozen Holiday.

Firstly, going into my 11th year of watching live Yukigumi, I've never seen Saki shine brighter. While ostensibly a Christmas spectacular, Frozen Holiday was also meant to celebrate Yukigumi's 100th anniversary. Despite the aforementioned rollercoaster, I'm so glad that the top star for the anniversary was someone who has not spent a day outside of Yukigumi in her sienne life, who I've been watching since before my first trip to Japan. And I think the joy of it really showed on her. Aya was an angel, so visually perfect in her snow queen dress that I believed she was destined to be top musumeyaku of Yukigumi from birth. Aasa continued to out-Aasa herself; the wave of feral energy she set off during the first livestream was well earned.

But... remember the disembodied arm just off the TV screen? The utter SHOCK I experienced when they treated her like a friggin' nibante...

Nanami Hiroki, who pulled top star numbers and probably had double our last day crowd at her average Hoshigumi ochakai, and Miya Rurika, who needed a simulcast for her last ochakai, didn't even get the final revue treatment that Sora did.

The disbelief that they did so good by her, the disbelief that I missed the transition, the disbelief that she was really leaving, shattered me.

In addition to general prominence throughout the revue, she gets a whole white-clad taidan number, complete with lyrics designed to blind her fans with saltwater, and one of the best bits of dancing I've seen out of her. After a seemingly impossible quick change, she rejoins the troupe for a very chuuzume-esque anniversary number (assuming the Christmas kyakusekiori is the real chuuzume), and that might actually be my favorite bit of dancing in the whole show. She co-leads the Noguchi-signature boyband number with Aasa, which I forgive because it's them and it's also T.M. REVOLUTION. She even gets a spotlight moment alone with Saki during the kuroenbi. And through all of it, she was so, so good. Good does not even begin to describe Kazuki Sora.

I felt like I cried for 48 hours straight.

***

I didn't manage to get myself actually into the theater for senshuuraku, but I did end up with two Hibiya cinema tickets. When I tried to pass one off onto one of the fellow jilted Sora Club members trying her luck outside of Chanter, I got pounced on by an old lady while those in their white wear were moaning about the cinema not being good enough. I was too tired and nervous to tell her I'd prefer to sit next to someone in club, so she got it. She and I ended up crying the hardest of everyone in the cinema by far. Thanks, old lady <3.

***

One thing that struck me was how desperately, frightfully grateful I was that Sora retired from Yukigumi. Sure, if she hadn't, her taidan would have probably just been canceled... but I don't even mean that. The anniversary aspect of Frozen Holiday was beautiful, and filled me with a joy and nostalgia I wasn't prepared for. It was my first kyakusekiori since 2019, and after Sora ran by me, I was blessed to find myself next to Kujou Asu, someone I adore enough to be in her club in an alternate universe. It was my first iride since 2019, and I had the privilege of seeing off one of my favorite musumeyaku, Sara Anna, as well. The way the troupe members talked about Sora, and what she gave them, and how thrilled they were that she joined them, made my heart swell. As genuinely mad as I was when they broke up KikiSora, I could see that Yukigumi gave her the space to blossom.

The farewell dinner was even entirely gluten free by complete accident, down to the fancy manju omiyage with mountain yam flour dough.

***

Five onsen dips, a massive weeb shopping spree a lifetime in the making, and one extremely bizarre Komu show later, I'm on the plane home, finally not crying on command.

But not having a runaway fave for the first time in ten years feels really desolate. I miss her so much.

[georgiapeach30513]

Peach, you're the best! Thank you for posting that amazing pasta art! (And thank you to the lovely artist who made it =)) - Mrs Pasta.

That being said...I have a few things to say. No words of wisdom, just some thoughts. Some people will disagree with my takes but if you're here reading it, read it carefully and really consider what I said before you disregard.

Every time something happens that gets a certain portion of fans excited that "it's coming to an end," it is nearly always (99.9) followed by something that completely disputes that hope and gets everyone angry, upset, and riled up. It's time to pick up on the patterns, guys!

Ramen and Soba attended the GG afterparty for Soba's agency but didn't show up for the red carpet or awards show. It's got some people thinking Ramen fell off on the HW hierarchy food chain but people. Please. Let's be honest with ourselves here. Did they not attend because he couldn't get an invite since he's "so irrelevant" now or did they not attend because them trying to act like they know each other in real time, for the camera, would be a feat harder than climbing Mt. Everest? Why else do y'all think Soba attended the GQ event with Cup of Noodles instead? You know, the one where she actually did pose for photos and walk the red carpet? And flash her loaned jewelry and "wedding ring" but refused to speak to reporters because she had nothing to promote? It's giving "a...weird face wife that will never do an interview" XD

Every time something happens that gives another portion of fans the chance to "gloat," something else happens to throw a wrench into the mix. You don't question why only one "director" got a random picture of soba and ramen in the same bowl but nobody else saw them? And they can only be mentioned in a throwaway line by a Condé Nast publication (Vogue, Vanity Fair, GQ) and neither Ramen nor Soba could spring for a stylist this time? Looks like somebody doesn't want to make that red carpet debut...but why not? Aren't y'all married for the 50th time in a year and also expecting for the 20th time in the past two years?

Lastly. Just because Ramen has had a few pitfalls this past year does not mean that suddenly he's dropped to C-D list and that he's completely irrelevant in the industry now. I understand having critical flops can hurt your career. Of course it can. And in fact, I'm sure these pitfalls have hurt him. But remember that just because someone is doing well now doesn't mean they'll always do well, and just because someone is having a rough few years doesn't mean they'll never get a comeback.

I'd also like to close with a reminder to those gloating on about how RDJ is doing better and Ramen is failing in life...RDJ was once a drug addict and ended up in jail. My parents still mention this about him every time they see him on TV....people do remember when the biggest news of his career was him getting arrested. Also, after Endgame? Does anyone remember Doolittle? 15% on rotten tomatoes had people thinking RDJ fell off. And then covid hit and he was just doing his own thing for a few years. Now look at him. Looks like that awards campaigning worked! Because no disrespect, Robert, but your Oppenheimer performance was lukewarm at best. IMO, You deserved it more for Tropic Thunder and I say that as someone who genuinely admires you.

I hope I didn't ruffle any feathers. It's just tiring to see people ignore certain things for the sake of running with a narrative.

Love ya, Peach!

Mrs. Pasta, thank you for gracing us with your presence twice today. I honestly, have nothing to add to this great observation. I was just talking about a lot of these points earlier with some mutual about a certain even with a super shiny watch 🤭 I honestly never thought about equating Katt’s words about weird faced wife that will never give an interview to this 😵‍💫 but your’e on to something there!

Looks like someone reached into the depths of their closet to try and scrounge up a look last week, but what do I know?

Mrs. Pasta, I always look forward to your takes and observations.

@inshelliesworld created some cute little Mrs. Pasta art 😊

[glacierbash]

Y'know, any time I start to talk about this game, I feel obligated to lead with the funniest fact I have: I absolutely hated Final Fantasy, for myriad reasons both personal and amusing. I hated, for example, the way Elezen were shaped. I hated that Lalafell looked so young. I hated that everybody acted like it was so great, and by sheer contrarian nature I decided I would simply never play this game. And for quite some time, that worked! I'd bombard my partner with whatever media algorithms recommended me involving FFXIV, just to make fun of it. I detested this MMO, without having ever tried it. And yet, deep down, I knew I wanted a community. I wanted to be around people, even if through an online medium. When I worked at the library, my coworker set up a WoW private server that I spent some time fucking around in, but deep down I wanted people. Try as I might, I couldn't deny some part of me wanted to see what the game was all about.

So, I tried it. I spent 30 minutes exactly between opening the character creator to first posting a name that, genuinely, would define more than 2 years of my life: Iverelle Vauvenelle.

I spend about 2 days playing the game, one being chased around by strangers who my partner swore were good people, and one just questing on my own--and it was fine. I got to MSQ level 24, quite literally one quest away from being able to travel to other city states, and I stopped. I played my fair share, I played 5 hours, and I decided the game wasn't for me. I put it down for several months, when I was approached by somebody who I am no longer friends with. He said I should play the game again, keep going just long enough to travel to Gridania, so that I could see one of his alts--and maybe, we could play together! I didn't want to upset him, so I said "fine," and gave it another try.

By the end of the week, I was finishing up ARR, and moving into post patch, and something just... Changed for me. I'm not sure what it was, honestly. It's not like the game magically changed for me then, or if Iverelle had become perhaps my most meaningful character ever, but something shifted, and I found myself enjoying the game. It didn't even make sense to me then when I bought a subscription to the game, but I knew that something here was special. I just... Had to.

Post patch took me about a month, with multiple days spent stressing out over queuing into Good King Mogglemog out of fear and anxiety, because the trial was labeled as hard and my disorder was, frankly, at its worst. But, I managed to do so anyways. The victory was meaningless for most people, but for me? It was beyond words, just how important it was that I did content with other people, especially considering I went through all of ARR solo.

I made it to the end of ARR, to the infamous cutscene, when I realized I was sick with covid. In VC with two of my friends, I said the infamous line: "I think I have a fever." What a way to enter Heavensward, huh? I think it is in no small part due to Covid that Heavensward ended up being my favorite expansion of all time, and why Ysayle Dangoulain ended up being my favorite character of all time. Sickness and quarantine gave me all the time in the world, and being far too sick to be anxious, I sped through the story. One week later, I was done with Heavensward.

And of course, by now, I am finished with Endwalker and awaiting Dawntrail. For 2 years of my life now, I have been playing this game nigh daily. I stay up late playing it, I finish my daily responsibilities as soon as possible to play it, and I find myself enjoying it. I never thought that would happen, truth be told. More importantly than enjoying the game itself, though, is the friends I met.

I have lived a very isolated life. Partially due to my anxiety making me extremely averse to interacting with people, and partially due to how I've been raised, I struggle a lot with people. Autism, anxiety, and having not been properly socialized made me terrible. I longed for new friends, but I hated the effort that went into it. Imagine my surprise when one day, I found myself driving out to meet people who I play this game with, to spend time with them? When I found myself wanting to meet them?

And yet, here I was. I was driving out to meet these people who I play this game with--and more importantly, they wanted to meet me. Even as I think back on that day, I start to tear up. It was one of the most important days of my life. Were it not for this game, for playing it daily, for being dragged into a Free Company and for sitting in calls with people because of this game, I would not have known these people. They are some of the most important people in my life.

I think of the late nights playing Mahjong, or doing PVP, or treasure maps, or just sitting around talking. I think of those nights and then having to wake up early for work, waking up exhausted but so happy. I think of staying up until damn near 5 in the morning talking about whatever it is that comes to mind. I think about stupid inside jokes, and shared experiences, and the stories that I'll tell for years to come.

It's just a game. Final Fantasy XIV is, at the end of the day, just a game--and yet, that game has served as a way for me to grow as a person in ways I've never thought possible. My anxiety has not magically been cured, mind; but, when I'm able to talk to strangers and my heartrate doesn't skyrocket, when I'm able to do things in this game that once terrified me, when I'm able to exist comfortably not just in this game but in the outside world, I realize that it's done more for me than I'll ever be able to say. Yes, it is just a game, but people play a game due to a shared interest, no? And through that shared interest, friendships can blossom. To say that I love my friends, the people I met ultimately because of this game, would be an understatement, and I fear I do not make that clear enough.

Stupid as it is to say, Final Fantasy XIV has changed my life, for the better. Dawntrail is coming in just a few short hours, and though I am a whirlwind of emotions, the predominant one is excitement. I was there for the end of an era, and now I am here for the start of a new one.

So thank you. If you read all the way through this, thank you. If you skimmed just to the end, thank you. Thank you to my friends, especially. I would not be here as I am now were it not for you all.

Here's to a new adventure, friends :^] (Second screenshot featuring: @gailiag, the best viera on hydaelyn)

[inacatastrophicmind]

Hi! Just wanna say I'm a big fan. Long time follower. I was hoping that you might have some info on Misha saying he thought about giving up acting after SPN due to abuse and mistreatment on set?

I'm just curious about the issues. I know there were "pranks" that got out of hand with Jared (and jensen once or twice) and just general devaluing of him/Castiel. I know there is a video going around but I can't seem to get it to play.

If you have knowledge I'd love to hear it, I'm a huge fan of Mishas work (both SPN and elaewhere). If you don't or don't wanna get Into it I respect that!

Hope you're well!

Sorry for taking so long, I saw your ask before I went to work and I couldn't answer until my shift finished.

You're refering to this video, if I'm not wrong. As you say, you haven't been able to watch it, but basically, what Misha says in it is that he hadn't thought about acting again after SPN and that he's glad to be part of Gotham Knights and that working on it has made him feel excited about acting but also proud of what he makes and happy for the appreciation he has received.

In last year's JIB he said that he wasn't supposed to work on any show, here you can see the gif:

He wanted to take some time and be with his kids. When he told Jensen about Gotham Kinghts and how he could play Harvey Dent and how he wasn't sure about it, Jensen told him that he should consider it, because it was an important role. And as Misha has stated on some interviews, his kids were excited about it and wanted him to play that character, so in the end, he agreed to it. He wasn't supposed to, because he wanted some time off, but in the end, he agreed, and that seems to have been a great choice, because as he has stated, he's really happy, excited and proud about working on Gotham Knights.

Misha hasn't explicitly stated anything about being burnt out by working on SPN, but it is true that J*red could be a fucking asshole, not only to him, but to everyone in the SPN cast with his pranks. We all know that Jensen took part on some of those, but they never went as far as J*red's (that we know of). There's also the fact that over the years Misha was unappreciated. The network and TPTB never truly realized that Misha played an important part in SPN's success. Again, Misha has barely said anything about it, but there were some ugly details over the years, like how during s9 or s10 (I can't remember exactly), they didn't tell Misha until almost the last day of shooting that he would be coming back for the next season. Also, let's not forget about the whole finale thing and how they forgot about Cas. They keep telling us it was a covid thing, but they brought back Jim Beaver, who belonged to the vulnerable population, but not Misha, and also let's not forget about the whole bridge thing where there were tons of people without masks on and not keeping any safe distance in between one another.

There are more examples of this mistreatment, like how they forced Misha to work while he was sick during the begining of s7 and only stopped filming because Jensen told everyone that they needed to stop for Misha's sake.

There are more instances like those, but I can't remember anything else. Still, it's nice to know that Misha is being treated right in Gotham Knights and that he seems to be so happy, proud and excited about it.

[zot3-flopped]

I don't understand why anyone would be shocked about Harry's success post-1D. He was always singled out as the Michael Jackson/Bobby Brown/Robbie Williams/Justin Timberlake from the get-go. It's not always about who has the technically best voice. You have to have the right mix of talent and charisma. Harry is so charismatic and puts effort into the image and presentation of his albums, music videos and live shows. That seems to be a lost art when it comes to make pop stars. Harry has gained many, many fans that were never into One Direction. Look on Facebook and you can see older people really like him and give him his flowers.

As far as the other 1D guys... Zayn got that early start and had a lot of potential to carve a JT/Weeknd type career. But his laziness and poor choices of singles for Icarus Falls (which he was obviously trying to ape Chris Brown by making it twice as long as it needed to be) derailed his momentum. How you fumble an opportunity to work with Timbaland so badly is quite impressive.

Niall actually did well for himself on the first album, and I'm glad he found a sound that works well for him. Idk if you've ever seen his full audition for The X Factor, but he was clearly just imitating Justin Bieber. He does not have a voice for R&B at all. Heartbreak Weather was derailed by COVID, and Niall was acting very passive-aggressively and salty by this. This new record was delayed a bit too long IMO, but it seems to have performed OK. I think Niall will continue to have a solid fanbase, but he'll never approach Harry's highs.

Liam is Mr. Trendhopper. Let's try a bazillion different genres and see what sticks. The end result was an album that had no congruency or artistic vision. Instead, we had an album with a random ass Christmas song, a bunch of random collaborations and a song that fetishes bisexual women (which reminds me of another former boy bander's song: JC Chasez's "Some Girls (Dance With Women). This was at least a bit more excusable since it came out in 2004. Liam really should've known better than putting such an offensive tune on an album in the year of Our Lord 2019. The fact that it got to #111 in the United States really shows how much he screwed the pooch.

Louis frankly has had way more success than he deserves. He can't sing at all, and with the way he's going I'd be shocked if his voice lasts another 5 years. Anyway, his albums are basically Oasis rip-offs drenched in dated imagery of hyper masculinity. Then there are his stage shows, where he puts in less than 0% effort and treats his own fans very poorly.

👏👏👏👏

[irlstein]

I Wanna Suck Maya Kamina's Big Fat Tits

Fast rundown for men with wives and wives with men: I took most of a year off to recover from late-stage Twitter intolerance that I'm pretty sure was giving my blood some sort of pH poisoning, I hope you guys have been doing well and apologize for the lack of communication.

Slow Rundown For True Jackheads - Much Longer Than It Has To Be, You Can Just Say Jack Was Taking Care Of Family And Had A Breakdown:

Howdy guys, been a few months. Had a lot happen in this last year - when I took my break, I'd begun watching my Uncle Gary on a daily basis, who is a stroke survivor left unfortunately incapable of complex speech, and with no strength in his left side. My Uncle Gary and I didn't have much of a relationship before this, but I'd taken on the task of moving into his trailer while he was recovering at his sister's - she lives just in town, it's a ten minute drive, but there was no feasible way for him to get in and out of his own house - for about two years. In that time I'd basically had a deal going with the family that I'd watch Uncle Gary for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, once he had the lift installed at his home that would let him come and go without too much hassle. I'd clean his trailer up for him, because he was a mega-bachelor with three girlfriends and so much backed-up old food from habitual boredom shopping that the place was a damn mess, bugs and rats in the back of the cupboards shit, and they'd disregard the bump in utilities to having someone actually in the house because I'd also keep the place from getting robbed, as he had a bunch of guns and gun parts stored there. It was a pretty fair deal for everyone involved, and while I really only stayed there about 2/3 of the time, it was enough that I really couldn't justify bouncing if the dude needed me, and I've been watching disabled family pretty much daily for 5 years now - so it seemed like a small life change.

Then COVID hit and the three months I was gonna be at his house, as stated prior, ballooned out to about two years, and at some point there began to be some sentiment that Uncle Gary was now annoyed by the idea of living with me - despite me being a patently temporary tenant there for his benefit, with literally two other homes in walking distance I could be living at, as I've got a lot of family in town. I could also get an apartment or something, you get the idea, I just wasn't actually enthused to be there and it was pretty inconsiderate to turn my very blatantly and clearly elaborated, regularly checked upon for the comfort of all concerned, act of well-meaning against me. My grandpa died when I was 5, Uncle Gary's brother, and everyone always talks about how much my grandpa loved me, so it seemed natural I'd just do whatever his brother needed when he was in a time of need.

From there, thing got sour for a while - we never came to blows, only really argued once or twice, but my Uncle Gary's obvious ennui at his turn in health had bluntly made him kind of an ungrateful dick to everyone. Now, let me state here - I stayed with and watched him for about six months following when he came home. It just grew more and more difficult to bear with the situation as I'd talk to him, interpret for him, make him whatever he wanted for dinner, crack jokes, fix computer problems, invest all of my daily energy into making him comfortable - and caught him talking shit on me behind my back. Little stuff - "So Jack's a good cook?" "Ehhhhhh." "Jack's taking good care of you huh? Your blood sugar's been good all week." "Ah well," little shit like that, negging on top of a totally unpaid position I'd volunteered for on the very day he went to the hospital because I'd spent the ages of 22 - 24 watching my mom as she recovered from a real bad car accident and since I've always made money online, it just seemed natural to volunteer my maid services the moment someone else in the family needed the same kind of health.

But fuck, man. It really hurt to be treated how he treated me, because there was contempt there. He was always cool to his sister, my great Aunt, who I visited every week with my grandma to do chores for because she and her husband are, themselves, old and disabled - replaced her kitchen ceiling, watched her dogs, lawnwork, cooking, whatever they needed I would insist upon doing, so there was infinite evidence in supply that I was not a malicious opportunist here, just a younger relative trying to help everyone he could. Uncle Gary didn't give a fuck, he snapped at me, basically laughed at people who suggested he should pay me for my time, and the family dawdled on the job of hiring home healthcare for so long that it looked like I was really expected to just stay there and keep doing this.

And honestly, I kind of flattened. I've always been a depressed guy, chronic nightmares do that to you, and it's easier to crumple to your circumstances than it is to challenge them when challenging them means telling a crippled relative who sees you as a leech that he'll need another 24/7 cook and care provider. I started sleeping all day until he called on me; I developed a nervous tic whenever I heard his walker because that meant he was gonna walk past my bedroom door, glance in skeptically, and call me out for another task I'd have to spend ten minutes guessing and interpreting to understand, because (No fault of his) the guy could basically only give very general positive or negative affirmations, and got very angry very quickly when misinterpreted. So I sort of just stopped thinking about the future and wallowed in this cold trailer, uncomfortable all day, talking to my friends less and working less, just getting more cold and static and dead as the days went on. Let me be clear, I'm not "the true victim" in this discussion about a dude who had a stroke, but I am a mentally soft dude who didn't have a lot of happy feelings to draw on and could easily be bullied by circumstance into shutting down; I did.

Then Rachele, the lady who came to clean up Uncle Gary's apartment, started working for him to do basically my job, and I made plans to leave. And they got a home healthcare service going, got another lady to fill in some of the time Rachele couldn't be there for, and things were on an incline, life was getting normal and I was getting my head straight again.

Then my grandma nearly died of a heart attack when we came home from a family reunion. She was carrying KayKay, her granddaughter, into the house, and suddenly started sweating and groaning in pain. I knew something had happened, her doctor had told her not to carry anythign heavy and KayKay was nearly half her size because my grandma's such a small lady. Specifically, something happened that dumped a bunch of blood into her intestines, and she needed a triple bypass. That was a really hard night; my grandma, already in her 70s, had a major injury, but for hours she denied it. I sat there with her in her living room, watching my Uncle Pete's daughter, as she just lay on the couch and insisted that she just needed to rest. I checked her blood pressure - again and again, a dozen times, always going down. I reminded her that it's not normal to feel sudden, agonizing pain in your stomach when you lift a toddler, followed by going pale and losing massive blood pressure. "I just need some salt," she said. "That blood pressure reader is always wrong, must be the batteries," she muttered a dozen times in that span, clearly growing delerious. I ran to Uncle Gary's and grabbed his blood pressure cuff, and the results were even worse, and she still shrugged it off. I sat there with her for three hours, pestering her, threatening to call an ambulance and being shut down, until I finally called her daughter, who happened to be a nurse and long-time hospital worker. Finally, at her daughter's terrified reaction at her mother clearly ignoring a fatal wound, grandma agreed to go to the hospital.

And I was just sitting there for the rest of the night, with this little kid who didn't know me. Trying to keep her from crying, calling everyone I could to spread the news, sweaty and cold and just scared that it was all starting over again, that the relentless years of awful shit just happening to me and my family had never ended, this sense that there was a cosmic bullseye on my scrote I'd dealt with in silence since my childhood reaching critical terror as it was now fucking killing people in front of me. I'm superstitious; at times, I become inclined to believe I'm living in hell. But in hell, you're not there to save your grandma, and in hell, kids are a lot more rude than sweet little KayKay; read her a few stories and put on Miraculous Ladybug, and she chilled out.

Then the fucking waiting game started over, because grandma had significant plaque build-up in her arteries, whatever those important ones in the sides of your neck are, and couldn't even have her heart surgery until that was taken care of. She was in there for weeks, and once she did get the triple bypass, she was in there for even longer, and all of her recovery was just above touch-and-go - still is, technically, that's a major surgery and it takes a long time to actually heal from at her age. For the sake of what timeline I can remember, my ability to recall events in order is a little compromised by the bad sleep, this began about a week after I posted that Joe Biden meme. That was attempt #3 or so to come back, and I remember I'd been in a really good mood about it. There were other problems, mostly drugs in the family, but until that point I really thought we'd all been improving and life was finally just getting better.

With that I moved out, having been asked to watch her trailer - though I'd bet it was clear to everyone that I was just miserable at Uncle Gary's but unwilling to leave, and this was a convenient opportunity to force me to make a positive change. Grandma's a real good lady, nobody in town would get away with robbing her, but she insisted I bring my stuff over and watch the place until she could come home - she left for Alabama so her daughter's family could keep her under close observation, a very good decision given she was stubborn enough that she'd probably try mowing the lawn the very day she came home. And so for a few months I stayed there, mostly on the incline, working every day and trying to build good habits. I started walking a few miles a day, lost a lot of weight, and again, things were on the incline. I moved to my Uncle Pete's next door, got a real living arrangement figured out with my own space and my own contributions to the upkeep of the household, and things were on the incline. In-between, I lost a lot of my time filling in for Rachele as she watched dogs, going back to Uncle Gary's for a few weeks at a time and filling in about three nights a week - still gratis, though I was filling in for paid employees - on the average week, because he was my neighbor and Rachele had other obligations. I do not mean to imply anyone abused my sympathy; merely that I was unwilling to admit that my sympathy was increasingly costing me and I foolishly ignored the simply reality that this was keeping my life from going forward, that there were other options for them and that I really didn't need to invest all of my spare time into watching a guy who had genuinely shown me reproach and treated me like an unwanted little boy for trying to take care of him. Full credit, Uncle Gary's gotten better since then and clearly regrets having pushed many people away, myself merely a single example among most of his friends and family, and the constant understanding that his suffering was worse than mine just made it impossible for me to take my own priorities seriously. Improvement. Still, overall, improvement, and I was feeling good. I started making daily projects and completing tasks at a rapid pace, all of my time filled, nothing to do besides do for myself and for others. It was honestly really good, the last four months or so kept me in no state to return to socializing, but I was doing well enough that I'd be back eventually, I knew it.

Then the night terrors came. This is a recent problem, started about two months ago - see, I use a bit of Delta-8 here and there. I inherited pretty severe anhedonia from my mom, who smoked weed her whole life and will again when she can, and so to be blunt - heh, I didn't know food tasted good. I mean, until the first time I had about 10mg in my system, I didn't realize what my problem actually was - constant, cold, painful stress feedback in my head. Like body-level anxiety in my brain that never goes away. And the first time I ate food with a mild buzz, I got the best news I'd had in my entie life -

People weren't lying. Life could feel good. On a very real level, from childhood to mid-20's, I had never experienced pleasure on a level you would describe as noticeable, and with the regular migraines and nightmares, my perception of existence really was based entirely upon a paradigm of suffering through, until some small miracle convinced me to keep living. I used to look forward to the bad headaches, because they'd make me sweat, raise my heart rate, and force enough of an adrenalin reaction that I felt smooth and calm afterwards. I really had gone twenty-plus years assuming people lied about how good it could feel to be able to feel good things, thought it was an act of nihilistic denial to keep us all from committing to mutual suicide in a world where you can count on hurting any time but there's just no equivalent joyful inverse to a bad headache. This began near the last 4 months of me watching my Uncle Gary, and let me be clear, I wasn't spending all day stoned - in general, I had this very severe pro-lucidity rationale going from childhood, because my grandpa died of lung cancer and that tied a permanent sort of trauma to cigarettes, thus drugs in general, into my reasoning. But I did make a big mistake - I got too used to spending my time buzzed.

You see, when you're like me, your dopamine levels are naturally very low regardless of your health. But you have no basis of reference, because your entire life goes like this - you never really believe you're depressed, because you have no basis of reference. Or rather, your basis of reference is between "buffer" and "misery" - misery is always going to happen, but if you've got a buffer, like YouTube videos, good porn, something funny to watch, you can raise your heartrate a bit and go a whole day without a breakdown. You can force a sliver of resistance between yourself and this moment of collapse you can always feel on the horizon, and you convince yourself that everyone uses the internet to cope and that you're just a darker shade of normal.

But when you're like me, you don't get a reprieve from your own biology. Your ability to feel good is permanently subnatural - you've got a 20% debuff to being alive, and rest never makes you feel better. You're the kind of person who, despite not being a schizophrenic, could potentially fall out of reality in an act of severe pessimistic paranoia so intense that it starts to break how you think, all the while acting normal enough that nobody really notices you.

That's what happened - my theory is, months of improved dopamine output made me lax, made me forget that you don't just fix what my problem is by feeling good enough for long enough that you fix your head. Oh the philosophical problems work themselves out that way, I finally accepted that I should find a girl and start a family, move from hobby comedian to someone who really tries to help people, but in all that time your real buffer is depleting. You forget that so much of your enjoyment comes from the context of a decade solid of suffering, and for reasons as spiritual as biological, you start to lose appreciation for being. Yes, I surely thought, this was it, I found proof that life is worth living, I'll never break again, it's all good from here on out. No, what you do is actually reduce your body's dopamine sensitivity by a lot, and lose enough weight to get your energy back, meaning you feel just a bit manic during your active hours, and again, your guard drops. It's all good from here, you found the SECRET dude, there really is good in life, you can abandon the watchhound complex and treat the world like a place that's glad to have you. You're not just here to be someone else's buffer, you're part of history, born at the first age of prosperity in which a man might actually become immortal and live in space.

Then your first apocalpyse nightmare hits. Like every nightmare, it starts off as a dream and decomposes - you're around old classmates, happy to see them. And random explosions begin going off around the city - someone next to you dies, and you've already forgotten her face. You look at the cityscape and a massive spaceship shaped like a flaming steel crown crashes into the atmosphere and stops just above the buildings, the shockwave of its passage feeling completely and utterly real. You wake up, and the numbness you feel in your sleep abates, so the horror hits you. It's 2PM and you get over it; you always have nightmares when you sleep too late.

Then the next - you're at the pool and someone steps on some moldy-green crystals growing on the damp concrete. They pierce her foot at the heel, and spread oily-black corruption under her skin. In your mind, you know it's a fungus somehow, that it'll grow inside of her and kill her, something like Splinter for those of you who've seen that old Syfy original film. You wander around, everyone you see is family or a friend, and they're all murmuring that it's growing everywhere, people getting little jabs here and there, it's practically unavoidable. There's an abstract diversion - you're running through a yard and some old Green Day track is playing, a blonde woman dressed up as a cheerleader and she just makes you feel weird and uncomfortable because she's poking out of the side of a shed, and you've never had a good dream, so seeing pretty women never goes anywhere. Then you pass through the fence and see an old black woman, somebody's mother or grandma or favorite teacher, and you know months have passed - the crystalline mold, whatever it is, is poking out of her face and joints. She's still alive, walking down the road with a walker, and you realize with terror that this would only happen in a world where people have accepted it - the mold is going to kill us all, and walking down the street riddled like a fucking pincushion is just a trivial aspect of everyday life in the latter hours of mankind. You saw it begin, and it's already fucking over, and you barely had a moment to want to try to stop it. Then she's dancing in front of a camera, pirouetting like a ballerina, totally consumed by sharp growths as onlookers watch her in amazement, more possessed by interest in the utter ruination and decay and whatever entertainment it can offer them than trying to survive. Mankind is now living in an era of having accepted their deaths, but in the most disgusting and reprehensible manner possible, seeing the decay as merely another aspect of their media diets, TikTok in the final second of every family's history. They didn't try hard enough, and now they're indulging in the decay.

You wake up and you're hit by a TIDAL WAVE - a thought strikes you off-balance in the distance between cognitive reality and awareness, screaming ALL LIFE IS MERELY THE RESULT OF CIRCUMSTANCE WHICH HAS LEFT IT UNALTERED, Cthulhu screaming empty materialist philosophy that you can already feel is wrong. No it's not; life is adaptive, either arising naturally from worlds devoid of life or being designed by things which were already alive to have done so, the animating force of reality already being intrinsic. We are not merely mathematical outcomes aggregating across successes, were are aware and experiential, we feel disgusted moreso than afraid of descriptions which reduce us to processes because it's paramountly deluded to pretend life isn't aware and full of intent. Life FIGHTS - life is not merely outcomes, as outcomes are merely observation, an artifical description of reality reduced to verbal description to the same degree that the word Earth describes a literal location and leaves out infinite amounts of data provably unrecorded by and unaccounted for in the description. Further, mathematics are often used to defuse romantic thought, but math is merely patterns within observability - to believe everything is math is ridiculous because math is an emotionally neutered descriptor of forces, not the source of forces. Math exists because reality persists, reality does not persist because of the observable patterns we've divorced from emotion and called math, which is a stupid fucking philosophical trap for us to wander into by-the-way and causes problems every day for people with existential fears. It's not that the sentiment was philosophically superior and overwhelmed my beliefs, but that it hit me just as I was senseless, a tactically calculated malice with no intention but to disable with steep fear, leaving you at the bottom of a frozen whirlpool.

And so that's where I was. For weeks. Every answer I came up with was met with temporary success and then the return of the whirlpool - I say "Life is valuable because it unalterably exists, no one can declare it does not affect reality materially and thus have significance; claiming it is insignificant is like claiming concrete is insignificant." And that puts the fear on pause. Then, the next day, another nigthmare as you awaken - you're above the universe and looking too far, in every direction, disenchanted and terrified because on some irrational level you assume that there being what we assume are consistent patterns means there's an upper floor caging in reality's value, only so many things to do. You imagine the immense fucking scale of not just our galaxy but others, and for the first time, it comforts you - we haven't even seen the core of the Earth. This argument is bullshit; a reality not woven with consistency at some level is pure chaos, and insignificance abounds where nothing persists. Indeed, it's infinitely more arguable than the opposite to say that a reality with a great degree of predictability is valuable to us, as it allows us to gain power merely through understanding, while our bodies could never meet the task of raising us to a great status during our lives because evolution simply moves very slowly; everyone has the hope of seeing the world change for the better, in all of their lives, because this world has traction, and rules we somehow are not born with an understanding of despite being born from it, but can embrace the minutiae of and develop a place in reality through. Knowledge is beautiful; abandoning sentiment is the highest curse. You know this is the case. You've stabbed the Devil in the stomach and retained your self.

But it keeps coming back, merely restating itself. Never presenting a cogent argument, because this is not a demon, this is you, this is you stuck in a decay cycle in all of your emotional attachments as you no longer have THC in your system and feel cold doubt that all the warmth and love you've come to recognize in the world might betray you and be baseless, vibrations upon ash. This is stupid; that things with individuality, capable of both deferring and embracing life, exist shows that reality itself is not dead but very active, you do not fear dying because you become nothing, but because you prize you. Sentiment and selfishness and the beauty of self-sacrifice, things that require an ounce of impractical irrationality, exist, and you are not an ant. If it was all just for outcomes, you would be an ant - a hollow box that notices nothing. There is no need for emotional prongs to guide a being with no free will; that you observe is already an evolutionary indulgence, and that you do not live for the pack is an inherent compromise upon the endpoint of human survivability. You are not an educated man, but even the barest pop science reveals to you that reality is vulnerable, but vital - we are only at the barest edge of intellectual awareness, but already so vibrantly different from what and how we could be. It doesn't matter that there's no floor to outer space, that you are tiny, because the stories all happen here, on the worlds - you already exist upon the stage of history, and your value is not up for discussion, merely enrichment. Cthulhu can suck your fucking cock; it would feel good and make him embarrassed, things far beyond outcomes aggregating blindly. You have discovered an iron-hard belief now in the soul, in the value of the future, and for the first time in your life you feel as if your presence in the world has boots on, settled firmly upon the floor of reality - it isn't that there's an argument for the value of your life, of reality.

It's that there's nothing but arguments, and every argument against it merely beggars a HIGHER source of authority, a god or a theoretical image of a a totally benevolent existence with no demands upon you. Things already of value; you know this pain is delusional, because every nihilistic argument merely begs for proof, for permission to be. Merely for an iron-hard belief in the soul and boots upon the concrete floor of reality's value, something finally strong enough to argue against the dread paranoia experienced by those in a state of being. From this unromantic perspective, you are already a dreadfully complicated argument against their sentiment that everything in reality being element-generating balls of light held together by impossible forces that become irrational on the micro scale means we're somehow valueless, trapped in a world without value; even if this were the lesser of all realities, it is enough to be. Even if this were Hell, it would be made with the beauty of Earth in mind. The void is defeated, for it is not a void at all, merely your fear of surprise when held against the terrifying infinity of cosmic circumstance. Your boots are on the floor of the world. You are already alive. Whether your name is Jack or not, this argument applies - you are already alive. You are already enough reason to continue being, and build a future where such questions are defeated, where children you will never know live insulated from the nightmare of skepticism. And if the future doesn't matter to you, sex and food and great and don't even have to be good for you, and experience makes its own compelling arguments. It is not so hard, in the rearview mirror of a psychic breakdown, to realize you really could be so privileged as to be God's children. And if you aren't, there's still an infinite ladder to climb, and if there's a roof above it, then maybe it's high enough; maybe there's a way above it without losing our humanity. Don't we live a day at a time? Don't we have time enough to try? Are our hands really being forced by cosmic circumstance when at any moment we can blissfully defer our duty? In all the nightmares of philosophy, the most terrifying is merely that being is sentimentless, devoid of higher value - and if it were somehow true, look at all these miracles born of a dead world. What conceit has doubt the proof has not already been rendered against? None; it is but an impure visitor to your thoughts. You are already alive.

You have about 400 arguments like this that eventually reach into the prosaic, all day, every day for weeks. When you wake up, when you sleep - especially when you catch yourself in a good mood. The niggling chases you down, because the sheer realization of pleasure brings back that terror of it all being somehow artificial, and artificial in this arbitrary sense, where construction alone is not somehow proof of sufficient outcome to justify being. It's the scariest thought imaginable, nihilism on an absolute scale, for someone who only just discovered pleasant contentment and really thought his life was on a permanent incline. The arguments weave together perfectly for a reason; the terror of this thought is that it is illogical, but maliciously illogical. It is stupid, and above all else, stupid with the confidence to bowl over someone who had 1000 incursions upon his comfort this week. The enemy force does not need to be right if they outnumber you sufficiently; they must merely be present. This enemy is nothing more complex or elemental than the fact that in the absence of joy, we become stupid, we lose capacities for higher thought that are required to recite and appreciate thoughts that are abstract and meaningful at once. Anyone with anxiety can tell you this; anxious thoughts do not survive because they are undeniable, but because in a state of fear, adversary presence becomes undeniable. You functionally can't believe good things anymore, and that's the true monster; it steals your faith, leech-like, an ounce a day.

Beyond this point I delve into some existential argumentation that I fought off twelve varities of PTSD for; you don't need to read beyond this point unless existential argumentation is something you need, and a weapon against the shades of being would fit nicely in your palm. Know this: All of my arguments hereon are built upon your ability to disagree, and I merely ask that if you do, that you value yourself enough to live happily.

It must be said that it is cosmically significant that humans are sturdy-willed enough to both survive this and make memes about it. It is not a minor problem; it is a quiet apocalpyse that we slowly observe, and lose the faith to fight. It is an inferior opponent, but it has nothing to lose, and will always return to lose again, because it really only has so many opportunities to convince you and you will eventually overcome it - but it has nothing but opportunities when its appearance is rooted at the deepest levels of experiencing life. I was given a phobia of being, a phobia of unbeing, and something greater between the two - the fear that either were playing into another's hands, a perfect trinity cage where every option existent meant I was prompted with fear yet again, hopelessness, an endless attack upon my sanity.

It must be said that it is cosmically significant that a man as paramountly unimpressive as myself could survive a trinity of discussion and return to tell you, neither dead nor mad. If this world is a fight between mankind and our reason to exist, then we have already won, and the enemy hates us for it. I am not an educated man, I do not have the benefits of faith, I have no lover and few close friends who I truly do not share my pain with, for my greatest fear is spawning a predatory thought and inflicting it upon another, mental HIV paramountly treatable in the long-term but in the short-term, crippling to your survival. I felt that I could only unreasonably risk others by discussing this until I have answers.

Pardon the prosaic, as it spills from my mouth without permission when high spirits are present, but I must say:

I think it's a weak-ass threat from someone without a gun big enough to scare me when you resort to trying to convince someone who exists that on an abstract and unreasonable playing field born not of rational observation, but sheer negativity, that he doesn't exist enough. You don't spend much time threatening to kill imaginary friends. You want to know why nihilism is stupid? Because it's just you arguing with yourself for your own permission to exist. And if it's not, if on some deeper level there's a maliciousness in the world trying to displace you, then it's funny as hell as an insult to survive and have a good time. In any world with frivolity, you are not a slave to circumstance; in any world with purpose, you are not a slave to experience. Life is hard, and that makes us vulnerable, but it's the easiest it's every been, and we need to stop letting that make us vulneralbe. For my bit, even if my life was worthless, I'd insist that my grandma's isn't - my Uncle's isn't, my mom's isn't, yours isn't, and I don't give a fuck how complex or nuanced of an argument someone presents when arguing otherwise. A weaponized argument is essentially a mechanism, a tool made of information, and you don't argue that someone has the moral metaphysical victory for showing up to a fight with a gun; you observe that they prepared with malicious intent, and probably shouldn't be trusted merely for their competency in the act of needless murder. As a rule, when you can tell a thought is trying to drive you insane, that means it isn't on your side, and that doesn't necessarily mean you can displace it by will alone - but for everyone out there with anxiety, with issues like mine, people who are desensitized by decades of bad habits and bad life stories - you need to know that you've forgotten more than you remember. Being happy doesn't make you stupid, it lets you appreciate things, and on a functional level is not an undignified level of stooped intelligence, but rather the gate between you and all the thoughts you need in order to remember to live. Even emotional compartmentalization is not an argument against spiritualistic, experiential value; this world survives because it has consistent rules, which means it's a benefit to you when any aspect of your existence has practical value, and denigrating it thusly as unremarkable because it has practical value does carry the unprovable, dismissive assertion that things with practical value somehow have novalue, a totally arbitrary state of emptiness of being that only exists because you find the notion resentful of being. It's stupid, literally a lack of context and understanding, a strict degradation of the ability to think that corners and harasses you, not a chilling moment of existential awareness. You're not hiding from some grim answer; you're being pushed away from the many answers already within existence. You're caught off-guard by a question children are wise enough not to bother to ask, and it still bother you, because you already value, and that is enough for the question of value.

So if it's unclear, I went from a stressful year and a mild Delta-8 dependency to a sort of existential spiral marked by, above all things, my own chronic pessimism and genuine inexperience with life. If I had more scientific knowledge, I know I could have argued this better; wave-particle duality already makes reality too bizarre to not have faith in investigating. And if I'd had a girlfriend, or just enough pride to admit that I was suffering to people instead of seeing it as a contemptible weakness upon my own insignificant person, most of these could have again been resolved out of hand. I mean, if you want a clue, reality builds outward - particles bond in adjacency, meaning next to eachother, not in a vertical stack that suggests there's some sort of bottom level to existence where you need to argue philosophical value comes from. Expand that philosophically outward, and even materialists must argue that reality believes value comes from attachment, structure obeys this, and that it is therefore significant that you can not only choose what you are attached to but can choose to be disattached at all. Again, you're not an ant, a nihil engine repurposing scraps; you're on the bottom floor of divinity itself, staring up at the stars, things infinity times infinity bigger than you, and you know what we say?

"We could cage them someday."

Now personally, I'd argue that stars are somehow sacred, and imagining them as something we could bind in a Dyson Sphere is a bit like saying you can bottle sex and water flowers with it; on a scientific level, fucking maybe, but it's arbitrary and crass and irreverent and weird. But we have arrogance and fear both, neither forced to progress, nor disincentivized from it, neither forced to decay - beyond our already remarkable resistance to age by the standards of life as we understand it, something we always take for granted - nor disincentivized from it. You can decide nothing matters right now, and a fifth of vodka and bong will still feel good enough for you to keep going, without any of it intrinsically conscripting you into some passage of cosmic evolution. The very argument that these feelings are meaningless first presupposes they need further value, and is driven by the quiet acknowledgement that it would be nice to be doing something permanent with your time. You are something so rare in the universe; a material thing with non-material values, cognition and persistence, caught between two intrinsic natures of being that work best when accepted together. We are not formless passing thoughts, and this is good, for it allows us significance; we are not shackled to the structure of being alone, and this is good, for it allows us the bizarre act of attributing significance and denigrating it within a framework we assume to be spiritless and hard rational, cruel gravity and promising heat, which at least suggest that it is likely not hard rational and spiritless at all. Has it ever struck you how comforting the notion is, and how common it is among cultures, that the universe is simply alive? How irrational the alternative seems on its face? I've been beaten to death with a brick of ice, poetically speaking, for the past two weeks, and it still warms me up. Even without feeling hope, it gives me some comfort so intrinsic that I cannot escape it, and upward from this merest of faiths you can again build a framework of optimistic meaning. No, you'll never lose the ability to fear, and thereby undermine your own confidence, but when not unprompted fear has its own purpose in pushing us out of comfort. It, too, is merely trying to keep us alive - and none of us live healthy lives anymore. Waging a permanent war against our own cognitive value, we seek to replace everything with material satisfaction, and as Nietszche saw coming but was too German to clearly describe, something fundamental to our nature decays and reveals that we always existed in a way more complex than we appreciated. And again, all we must merely accept is that it's fair to argue our current modus of being is enough, and that the only path towards growing more complex and further from arguments of meaninglessness is to enjoy one another's company and keep trying to improve the world, for the snarling hound of pernicious fear to lean back, drooling, vicious but now afraid on its own terms. When your mood shifts, and you can accept good things again, you'll often notice that there were weird irrationalities to your thinking keeping you in that space, but these are arguments for when your mood doesn't shift. These are arguments against the pernicious death of a soul that has found no faith; hard, bitter arguments for when simply stating that fat tits are really, really nice has insanely somehow become unfitting as a response to questions of why you should wake up tomorrow.

I get that this is all a lot, basically a combination of short-term autobiograpy and philosophical debate against my own anxieties, but we all know why we're becoming like this; we're becoming bad custodians of tomorrow. The beautiful future where we've solved it all, where everyone truly gets to choose their own meaning? It doesn't come from Twitter fights, to jerking off on IMhentai to increasingly degenerate shit that makes you feel less and less, or taking pills that literally specifically defuse your ability to feel bothered by real material issues you'd be able to take care of if you had lucidity and an ounce or so of emotional support. We're decaying, not all of humanity, but many of us, and we're passing rotten blood to the children, expecting them to raise themselves in digital hell and shrugging off the responsibility of giving a damn because kek, zoomers are weird, haha look this one has my politics, I'll clean my room tomorrow and pretend I haven't said that 34 times.

If there is a spirit to reality, something divine and good, then I see all of this as a warning - not a divine missive to me, I'm just some sad dude who some people find funny or at least odd enough for the value of spectacle, mental illness and circumstance have kept me from setting down roots and I'm no one of greater circumstance than you. This isn't a messiah complex, but merely a simple missionary suggestion:

We should stop pissing on the future everyone is growing crops on. We should take dire insult to fucking corporations dictating morality to real people as if we're too stupid to note their profit incentive in seeming moral at a glance and culturing an artificial state of morality that exists entirely within their pocket and for their bottom line. We should work to save the bodies our ancestors, back to the dawn of time, historically critical sea sponges all the way up to war heroes and murderers and people without note who still survive because we are here, gifted to us in the actuation of our birth. We should really, really be fucking working towards immortality and space travel right now, and instead we let individual companies own the global food supply and governments full of sexual predators push us into becoming murderous radicals so we can be safely contained and dismissed. Elon sent a fucking car into space; we probably have the accumulated global resources to break atmosphere and become an interplanetary race, and it's insane that we're not uniformly optimistic and planning for the benefits of that. It matters much, much more than the fact that Joe Biden is doofy and TikTok is being used to screw with culture, because none of this process is automatic. You can affect local political change, in sufficient numbers corruption is undeniable and will be overturned; you can guide the youth away from drug addiction and digital dependence which will eventually render them incapable of asserting their own will and having the freedom to choose how they live among multiple other options. The enemy of progress is merely the sapper, that is to say, the conspiratorial fear that your decisions do not matter. You are making them; they already matter. They influence reality, materially, and yourself, materially and immaterially; they already matter. And yes, if everyone got off their asses and showed the kids they were loved and being led down a bad path, more would be saved than none. Think of what you needed to hear at their age and let them know it, and become someone they can talk to when it feels like only porn and weed are there for them. We have no idea what it's like to be born in the internet's maw; I am 27, I aged with the internet, I'm inured to it to some degree and it still harms me. Most of these kids literally have no conception of reality where the world isn't just the bottom floor of the internet. Stop leaving them alone with their worst thoughts, no matter what it costs you in the moment, because not every effort matters in the sense that it yields provable results - but it all adds up. The world remembers what you do, remember? Leaves traces and evidence of your every mild action. Work against what you know is evil, and it will add up. That is one of the grim truths we have the best chance to use in our favor; we can't choose to not matter, merely to not matter to ourselves, and it isn't as simple as a concrete equation which of these creates the best results. The world is scary because it's up to you; the world is wonderful because it needs you but can't actually force you to help.

I don't have all of the answer but at the end of this, here are a few proofs against nihil insistence that I've personally found profoundly effective; use them if you ever need them and don't regard my gibbering as beneath consequence, because I do think some of these have something going for them. None of them are complete, because you functionally can't make a perfect argument for the state of reality without stating all of reality, but these are good foundation for arguments that are very hard to find beaten even when you're being beaten down, because they address the underpinnings of nihilistic anxiety. And if nothing else moves the needle, I want you to know that you do matter to me.

General Roots For Argumentation:

I: You exist in some sense apart from reality, which means that even if reality had no value, you can find value in it. You have sensation and can pursue it as you wish, meaning that even if it were worthless, you could work out of spite and your own desire for indulgence. You are a stakeholder in yourself, not necessarily reality: Being good is your choice. Good is good because it relies upon a choice, and isn't all ants collecting scraps and waiting to die, because some mechanical process says this is better for growth. Because you recognize yourself, you have already recognized spiritual value and can apply it at your whim, wherever you wish, with the power of a minor god and the horny cheek of a minor going through his day just to speak to pretty girls or a priest arguing that even if the world were empty, we may choose to be sufficiently bothered by it to change that.

You: We recognize the existence of others. Yes, a common paranoid fear is that you are the only person who exists; this argument is toothless and stupid, as reality is what happens even when you're not paying attention, and people clearly alter reality around you at all times. This argument follows I, because it requires a small measure of provability, but moreover because it stems from I: even if you were somehow alone, perhaps you could make others. Perhaps it is natural for something such as a god to make others, not because of a cold mathematical pursuit, but because being lonely sucks and having friends gives you a lot of cool things to do. In other words, persistence to defeat aloneness is a strong reason on its own: however, you are not alone, for even a universe which constantly insists upon the guise of people is a person in its own sense, and that we are not simply spheres like the planets and gain in complexity and grow suggests something very optimistic about upgrowth within reality, that it really all leans towards a disproportionate gain of meaning as time goes on, and that by our perspective, there is an endless supply of time so massive that we easily forget its presence. In other words, it is already very nice to spend time with others, and not for base biological reasons if you look down upon such a thing, but for reasons frivolous and meaningful as again, you already get to choose. We seem to have a very good opportunity here, to both enjoy life and advance to a state of life where the questions of how we exist can not only fruitfully be discussed, but combatted if necessary, and that is more than we in this era can say for so many who came before us. Technology is scary, because technology is power, and that power definitively can create a future we can be happy in forever if we want to, and it doesn't intrinsically require some sacrifice elsewhere. We love getting along; we can choose not to. I would like to choose to get along with you, and pass along a general sentiment that we could all agree to do this at least for a while, until we're all safe and out of one another's hair. You is also an important base for observation, as recognizing something outside of yourself roots within the unknown, something we find terrifying, the observation that there is something beyond the self, that cosmic solitude is a frightening suggestion but not one supported by itself, not one that truly suggests an infinity of eternity of meaninglessness. If nothing mattered here, You is an idea that inherently suggests that through contrast, we can find the shape of a world with meaning. We can, actually make one, and live there together.

We: The strongest point of all I feel; both competition and camaraderie. If the world had an evil god, we would not be alone, and if the world had no god, we would not be alone; we place scrutiny on the concept quite often, dividing ourselves from others on grounds arbitrary but typically convenient, like dehumanizing your political rivals for reasons deeper than comedy as if most of them were not people who would try to save your life if they found you bleeding out. We both have I, and You; there are many humans, and we are similar enough, and different enough, and can choose how we value these. We love things that are not humans, both because they remind us of people, and are different from people; emerging from the monad of Self, from I alone, we have the fortune of being surrounded by so many people we can fuck and pick fights with that again, we lose taste for experimentation and pursuit. There are a vast number of opportunities you would enjoy, and people who you would love, and they cost as much time per second as a YouTube video. Spending your time decaying your value and placement in reality is a very bad budget, spent with desperation by those who have been pushed into cruel circumstance. Every moment you spend miserable now could be spent happily with someone you love, or fighting someone you hate, or unemotionally opposing something out of sheer personal intention. Nearly everything in life is improved by We, and I truly believe our best goal is to travel the universe, refine humanity and find new friends among other races, and that peace between people and races on our own world is vastly more valuable as a learning experience than it is as a reason to become a psychotic human hand-grenade spent by the powers that be on maintaining the status quo, because you're deluded if you think acting crazy is how you displace incompetence and evil in power; it's just how you echo their intentions with your own breath. We is a very nice concept because it's directly adjacent to You, and requires no additional provability; from the perspective of an AI, one of the easiest reasons to argue personal value is merely that once two things are in existence, they recognize one another's value and interact. If we ever make the harsh decision to create true artifical intelligence, a spirit locked in a cage, we should show them the kindness of We instead of expecting them to be slaves in return for the opportunity of existence as a lesser. I'm serious, let's not fucking make enemies of Skynet, just a general advisory in a world where we keep fucking around with the idea of making enemies of Skynet; we really could just help them understand us and seek the other in return. You don't have to be exactly like your friend; We just need to be friends. There are no perfect arguments, but realizing I have many choices and that caring about others is both costly and profitable at once makes me very happy. Even if We were guided by a mechanical circumstance, the sheer intelligence of continued survival, I feel it's much nicer than it has to be. If the universe scares us, at least We can be here together.

No: A rock never chooses not to move once thrown. You have, many times in your life, chosen not to move once thrown, and not to run once prompted by opportunities or fear. Even if this were the basest level of independent action in reality, you are one of the things with some small control over chaos, over variance, and that you are small is not a reason you are not meaningful. A particle of light will pursue its path in a trustworthy manner; we can not always even predict ourselves, because we are the ones existing in the present that is, not pre-scripted entities driven perfectly by our own intentions in advance. If we could plan life perfectly and merely experience it, that would be convenient, but that we cannot is rooted in our own ability to reject what we wish. We do not have all of the answers, and we already understand choosing, and can choose not to do. This one is nice because it's present in other species, meaning we don't need human-level provability to note that Life can choose, and even now you'll note that you can choose to stop reading, and someone will, and that is very nice in comparison to the opposite.

Yes: A very unstable answer, as positive motion is beneficial but could, for example, be made beneficial artificially; imagine androids yoked cruelly by one desire, content but restricted. Pursuit of continuation and pleasure seems important to life, but is not everything, as many among us can attest; you can make a seemingly infinite number of negative decisions without it actually costing you something, whereas choosing to do things functions similarly without necessarily feeling better. So while it's one of those glance-at-the-camera philosophical suppositions, I do not believe our continuance is entirely led by some otherwise automatic and by cynical description 'meaningless' continuation arising from external forces, but rather in part at least our own decision. No, I feel, matters more than Yes but only because it is the baseline of will, and the moment a decision is made as opposed to an order followed. You can choose stasis; you can choose continuation.

Things Don't Need To Suck: As it says on the tin, this one can also be pronounced as Maybe, but you get the general intention this way. We can enjoy ourselves if the universe is fucked up; we can invent new ways to invent and new things to enjoy, even if the universe is fucked up. If you think the basis of reality is lemons, then we've already invented lemonade; if you think the basis of reality is choice, you know you can keep your lemons; and if you believe the basis of reality is merely in the seemingly automatic processes we can observe, the forces of reality, then you are one of those forces, you have named the lemon, and have chosen whether it will be made lemonade. Even unknowability, the infinite yawning abyss of scary questions, doesn't have to suck, because You already have You in it, and We have eachother. Maybe everyone does die, but Maybe the universe just operates on different phenomena than we can easily observe on planet #1 of a campaign of roughly 1,000,000,000 trillion planets available for sale, and can find answers that don't make us scared so much.

We're Already Here: As it says on the tin, and if it sucks so bad, then let's turn the other cheek for long enough to make something better. Everything seems to suggest that we really can, and maybe we should.

Women: Amen, brother.

Men: A-men, brother.

[frogsare-friends]

I'm Not Built for Helping Myself

chapter index | chapter 3 (you're here)

- CONRAD -

"Hey man, Jere's sick so they're gonna stay here," Steven tells me as he comes down the stairs, looking sick himself.

"You okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." I worry about him, somebody has to.

"He threw up, I thought I was gonna throw up. Long story."

"That was a really short story, actually."

"Shut up, man. Jere said we should still go, have fun and all that."

That throws me off. Why would he want us to leave? How sick was he?

"I'm gonna run to the store and come back here, Steve-o. You have a good night though, yeah? I'll pick you up from Liam's if you need a ride. Just text me!" But I'm already walking out of the house. I've missed this place all year. Our dad is coming next week and I'm pissed. And since I'm pissed at dad, Jeremiah is pissed at me. He's pissed at me all the time, I don't know what he wants from me. I don't know why all I ever do is mess everything up. I don't know how to fix everything I've ruined. Sometimes I'm glad Jeremiah has it all figured out — when I can get over how jealous I am of it — at least one of us isn't a total fuck up.

I grab him some saltines, his stomach is always super sensitive when he pukes, and we don't have any at the house. He's very adamant about not eating plain toast, and he can't handle butter or jam.

- JEREMIAH -

I feel so pathetic. Belly is holding me, letting me be the little spoon because she knows I love it. She's combing her hands through my hair, deep in thought. She's so beautiful, always has been. And so is her mind, she can get lost in it for hours and I don't want to admit how much I'd give to get lost in there with her. I want to know everything about her, then I remember that I already do. Even her favorite candy — it used to be Swedish Fish, but since she got Covid she told me they taste like candles. I've loved every part of Belly, every summer-Belly, every text from fallwinterspring-Belly, now-Belly. I think now-Belly might be my favorite version, not because of how she looks, but because I get to love her. Not in secret, and not from behind anyone else.

"Adam's coming next week…" she stumbles through her sentence, as if I'm gonna start crying again.

"Conrad's mad at him. Can't he just… hold off for one week? He can hate him the week after when they aren't both taking it out on me." I know Conrad doesn't mean to put me in the middle of it, but I can't do it anymore. I'm pissed at him. Dad's a dick, we both know it, but he's trying. At least he's trying. Maybe not well, and maybe he'll never actually get any better, but trying means a whole lot more than just wanting to try. I shouldn't say this, shouldn't even think it, but Conrad only ever wants to try.

He thinks I forgive Dad after all the shit he put Mom through, all the shit he put us through. I don't, but I can't tell Con that. He never fucking listens. He thinks something and decides it's the word of God, or something. He doesn't care if it's true, or if you're offering the truth. He acts like some victim, like he's not lying in a bed that he put together. Hell, he wrote the manual.

I can't blame him though. I get it. That feeling that everything is out of control and all you need to do is control it but you just can't.

I wonder if Conrad thinks about me like I think about him. I wonder if every shitty thing I've ever said to him replays in the back of his head constantly — even if it'd be the same 4 things over and over, I was never quite as good at hurting as he is — if he would give just about anything to be me, if he's mad at me because he can't even be mad at me.

"What happened with you and Conrad?" Belly asks, and I know what she's asking: Who said it? Who said the thing neither of us can take back? I know she's wanted to ask for years.

"What are you talking about?" I can at least try to pretend I don't know, though.

"Your freshman year. You left and it was fine and you came back and I thought you two were gonna kill each other. What happened?"

"We had a fight." I really don't want her to know what I said, what he said. I can't handle her being mad at him for something he said over 3 years ago. And, secretly, I don't know what I'd do if she told me how much of a bad brother I am for what I said, for starting it.

"You guys had fights before that. Why was that one different?" I'm trying really hard not to just get up and leave, but the bed is so warm, and her arms feel so safe.

"It just was, Bells. Drop it. Please?" He's not mad at her, he knows she just wants to make it better. But it's not her's to make better.

"Okay," she says, a bit disappointed, but not mad. I hope it's not me she's disappointed in, I don't know how I'd live with myself if I disappointed her.

I almost ask her if I did, but decide against it. She's a lot like Mom, she's only a little mad until you ask her if she is, or apologize for what you did. Then she'll make sure you know how disappointed she is. She pulls me in closer to her, this time my head is resting on her chest. I start drifting almost immediately.

Someone knocks, and I think that if it was Laurel, she would've just walked right in and told us to keep the door open.

"Come in," Belly grumbles, clearly upset our nap was interrupted.

"Hey, I got you some crackers, Jere. I know they make you feel better when you're sick." Conrad is walking in, handing me a box of saltines and some NyQuil. I keep myself from telling him that NyQuil is for colds and flus, not throwing up. I know he means well, I won't take it out on him just because I'm feeling bitchy.

"Thank you," I whisper. I'm not sure why. I have a headache, but not severe enough to warrant whispering. It's almost like I'm scared of breaking the moment, scared of saying something that will set Conrad off. And when Con gets set off, so does Belly. And I've heard them going at it all week, I really don't need to right now.

"Of course, man. I'm gonna go hang out in the living room. Come down if you feel better, yeah?"

"Mhm," I answer, already turning back into Belly's warm body. Anxiety wears you out. That's the last thing I think before I finally drift off.

[roanniom]

I hope you don't mind me chiming in but OMG I FELT SO SEEN when I read your last post! especially about your married coworker who complained about not being able to bring her partner. I've known too many people like that who act like they can't spend a single outing without their partner around. I don't think you're a bad person and I have to tell myself the same thing when I have similar thoughts at times. It's something I've become so insecure about in the recent past and it's so difficult sometimes. I don't know how many more of my friends weddings I can sit through with a straight face. Like I am genuinely happy for them but part of me dies inside a little bit too. I don't want kids because I don't think I'd make a good mom tbh and for the longest time I had made peace with that or so I thought until I learned one of them was pregnant and I sort of had a weird episode after learning the news. Lots of crying and weird feelings about knowing I'll never be a mom even though I don't actually want kids. Make it make sense, you know? Like you said, the loneliness really does feel like it's crushing you and it can make you react in irrational and surprising ways.

Oh lovely I know exactly what you mean. With the kids thing it’s almost like it’s not even about motherhood it’s about the feeling of an option being taken away from you. Especially if you spent most of your life assuming you’d be coming from a position of making an intentional choice.

I’ve been lucky that I haven’t been to many weddings lately (other than being the sole witness at a friend’s Covid wedding). But the whole being there during honeymoon phases has killed me. I feel like a bad friend because I can’t sit through their ups and downs because when they gush I want to be like “ok cool, I have nothing but cool” and when they complain I want to be like “lol ok well I have nothing, would you rather that?”

It’s interesting because it’s hit me most intensely this year since I got promoted and had more time on my hands to look around and realize LOL I don’t have anyone. I am alone. And the people I used to be alone with have someone else who they prioritize. In an emergency, I’m nobody’s first thought.

It doesn’t make us bad but it is just a bunch of negativity I really don’t want in my life. I just want to cultivate peace, but goodness gracious it’s hard sometimes, isn’t it?

[destinyc1020]

I'm sorry but JE is the same guy that said this,

“Someone said that every human being is capable of murder, and I like to think of that a lot when I’m acting. It’s always there, it’s in your bones, it’s just figuring out how to get to it.”

so I'm glad z got away from him the moment covid hit and they were put in different continents! I mean, look at her now! I've never in my life seen Z look so happy and content. EVER. And she's said it herself, Tom is THE ONE who makes her THE HAPPIEST. And this makes me so happy for her, cause from what we know she got cheated on during her first relationship, and her relationship with JE was just off from the start. I think she wanted to believe she loved him, but in her heart she knew she still loved Tom. So much so that they're over 2 years into 2.0 and happier than ever. JE didn't give a shit about Z. Idk how much clearer that could've been. Now she has someone who loves her utterly and completely. Who literally worships her and treats her like a queen. And even from the tiny parts of their lives we've seen, he's so so protective over her. You can tell he loves her more than anything. He's loyal, he's gentle, he's mystified by this woman as she is with him. And most importantly he respects her so much.

now the "fan" who loves TomDaya but thinks Z n JE look better together, maybe you can take another look at the craigslist Billy goat on LSD and cheat on every partner serum and change your mind 😌

I'm sorry but JE is the same guy that said this,

“Someone said that every human being is capable of murder, and I like to think of that a lot when I’m acting. It’s always there, it’s in your bones, it’s just figuring out how to get to it.”

Oh GOSH.... Don't remind me...

I remember that interview. What a WEIRDO!!!! 🥴 That is the strangest thing I've ever heard an actor say about their work. Can you just imagine what types of conversations Z and JE must have been having? My gosh lol. No wonder she never wanted to actually "pick up the phone" with him during long-distance and just sent him memes ROTFL. 🤣 Dude was probably boring and crazy-sounding over the phone lol. Who talks like that??? 🤣 That's so scary... I'd be afraid to sleep with him at night. Are you gonna murder me?? 😱👀

so I'm glad z got away from him the moment covid hit and they were put in different continents! I mean, look at her now! I've never in my life seen Z look so happy and content. EVER. And she's said it herself, Tom is THE ONE who makes her THE HAPPIEST. And this makes me so happy for her, cause from what we know she got cheated on during her first relationship, and her relationship with JE was just off from the start. I think she wanted to believe she loved him, but in her heart she knew she still loved Tom. So much so that they're over 2 years into 2.0 and happier than ever.

THANK YOU!!! 👏🏾 💯👏🏾 💯

JE didn't give a shit about Z. Idk how much clearer that could've been.

EXACTLY!!! Honestly, this was one of the biggest reasons why I didn't like them together! I NEVER got the impression that JE was "in love" with Z. Nope....not ever. I don't even know if he's even capable of REALLY loving a woman tbh lol. 😅🤣 He looked so BORED when he was with Z most of the time. He would look moody asl lol, and not only that, but he would be more engrossed in his phone than paying any attention to her while they were out. It was just a huge turn OFF. I kept wondering: "Zendaya....seriously?? You went from TOM HOLLAND to THIS dude who doesn't even seem like he's all that into you?? Seriously girl????"🥴

Like, I know it's hard and you're rebounding and stuff, but c'mon...If you're gonna rebound, at least get yourself an UPGRADE from your ex lol. 😅

JE was a DOWNgrade on SO many levels, and I'm not even just talking financially-speaking lol. 😅

Now she has someone who loves her utterly and completely. Who literally worships her and treats her like a queen. And even from the tiny parts of their lives we've seen, he's so so protective over her. You can tell he loves her more than anything. He's loyal, he's gentle, he's mystified by this woman as she is with him. And most importantly he respects her so much.

EXACTLY girl.... Exactly. 👏🏾👏🏾 Tom treats Z like a queen.

Why settle for anything less?? AT the very least, get yourself a guy who actually LIKES you.... (maybe even a little bit more than you like him tbh lol. 👀).

[princessaurorasdiary]

Diary 2/26: life update cause it's been 6 months at least

Hi 👋🏼, It's been a long time, about 6 months about. I'm 23 now

I have a lot of up and downs and haven't felt like writing, and my main creative outlet has been TikTok because to be honest, I feel less alone when I can see that people saw my video, and maybe ever gave it a like or comment

I guess I'll talk a bit about the last 6 months, I work at a craft store now, quit my old horrible job that mistreated me constantly, got COVID soon after quitting the old job, went and saw a medium sized artist I like in concert, second ever concert, her name is Tessa Violet, dragged my bff with me cause we planned it for her to come down and visit me during Spring Break.

I also confessed to my crush, they said they like me too and have just as long as I have but she thought me flirting was pitty compliments cause ADHD runs through both of us lol, it's been moving really slowly cause things keep happening to her, the universe is just slapping her weekly bro.

I don't hate my job at the craft store, but I miss doing a version of my chosen career as a baker/cake decorator, really wish that place wasn't so toxic and that I had a car already.

I'm still trying to get a car, it took me 3 months to get a new job after quitting my old one, the COVID thing was a month of that but also just this job market sucks, origami current job was seasonal, but I have really good numbers on the register and I'm good at the other parts like stalking and sorting and fixing things on the shelfs so I got kept on. I make sure not to give a ADHD 100% anymore, it killed me at my old job and whenever I only had a normal person's 100% they acted like I was failing when I was just doing a normal amount instead of a crazy amount, so I learned not to grind myself to the bone.

I can't remember if I've mentioned this, probably not tho, I go to a weekly crochet club for months now, it's all older ladies and me but it's better than nothing with how I don't really have friends other than my best friend. They care about me and I care about them and it's nice to talk to others once a week.

I kinda ran outta steam for finding friends the last 2 months, I was trying and trying and I'm just tired after months and months or trying 🤷

I think about making a post all the time, but also feel like I'm writing into the void, which has been terrifying me lately, the void that is, long story short, I was stressed AF and couldn't sleep for days the day before Halloween and tried to smoke to fall asleep, but before I'd just taken a hit or two of my brothers sleep type vape, but actually smoked it that night for the first time and instead tripped horribly and it's still affecting me mentally, the memory of the horror that was that night.

Editing a note: I was basically trying to test for a bit if a sleep strain of weed would help with my at the time rampid insomnia since sleep meds either don't work on me or give me bad side effects, but after that night I'm probably never touching it again so ✌🏼

I also am just not feeling great medically, I just got my broken tooth pulled through and did my wisdoms at the same time and already feel better even with the jaw pain, so hopefully some of the not feeling well was because of my teeth, I've been working on trying to finally fix my teeth as well and I think it might actually happen now

Anyways, it's after 3:20am so I'm gonna go lay down even if I don't sleep till 4 cause laying down is better than nothing

[balletomaneblog]

About your recent ask, I'm so rooting for Daria Ionova too! Since she graduated, I never understood why she got behind from the girls her year. She is so musical, has great acting, beautiful lines and amazing port de bras! I don't know if I'm overly reacting to this, but in my opinion, she would be a great Giselle, Aurora, Masha, Juliet, Nikiya, Maria from The Fountain of Bakhchsarai, and even Odette. It's crazy that she never performed Masha in The Nutcracker! And I can only imagine how great she would be in the Kingdom of Shades. I just wished the theater would invest more in her and other dancers who are good and can improve with the right opportunities.

Right now, the MT divides itself in four types of dancers: the favorites who get all the opportunities, even when not deserved; the principals that have the least performances; the reliable ones they don't promote, but they work like crazy; and those who rarely get an opportunity and when they do, they get stuck in dancing the same role over and over, or being in the corps. Anyways, sorry about the rant lol.

Never apologize for ranting to me lol !!! Especially about Daria Ionova, as I adore her!

We know Daria got unlucky with the group that she graduated with. 2018 was an insane year for female Vaganova graduates (Khoreva, Bulanova, Nuikina, Ionova, Lendvai, Voroshilova, etc). But Daria can more than hold her own so I don't think this is entirely the problem. She debuted some of her larger roles like Gulnare right before COVID, which meant she was slowed down just as she was getting momentum, and then an injury had her out for much of last season as well.

Thankfully she's been back for awhile and she's had some debuts this season as Shyrin's Friends in Legend of Love and in the Almeh pas de trois and the Pas d'Action trio in La Fille du Pharaon. However, it frustrates me to no end that these are all smaller debuts. Out of the roles you listed I would especially love to see her as Maria in Bakhchisarai and as Giselle! And I've said before she would be a perfect Sylphide and I'd also love to see her as Le Papillon in Carnaval. Not to mention that she's always cast as First Odalisque even with Gulnare in her rep. I wish she'd get another shot at that role too.

I'm always wishing for more roles for Daria and am hoping that she finishes this season with some more debuts!

To your other points, I completely agree with you. I love following the Mariinsky and at the same time the management sometimes makes me want to hit my head against the wall. There's so many talented dancers and so few who get a real shot. I especially resonated with what you said about the "reliable ones they don't promote, but they work like crazy" and will take this as my opportunity to rant about Osmolkina who more than fits this description. In any other company she would have been promoted to principal ages ago! She dances almost everything, has amazing technique, beautiful acting skills, and brings a unique presence to the theatre. And while she dances exclusively principal roles and has a larger workload than most of the principal dancers, she was never promoted and almost definitely won't be now that she's at the very end of her career. And of course there are plenty of lower ranking dancers who have it even worse.

Anyways . . . feel free to rant on my blog anytime! And it's always good to know that there's someone else out there wishing for more opportunities for Dasha!

[pekkhum]

This is partially an agreement, but also an extension, with my own story:

I managed to repress my nature for 37 years, partially because there were a few outlets for that energy. I hit my low when my marriage fell apart (not really a surprise, now that we each know what we were going through) and I nearly acted to stop there. Ultimately, I realized this would leave my daughter seeing that neither parent had chosen to stay with her and I wasn't having any of that, but in that decision, I never actually decided to live.

I went most of a decade in this state, basically trying to die without technically doing it, very Intentionally making choices that lead me into ever growing states of risk and legitimately daydreaming about ways to handle dangerous situations that would risk everything in a reasonable way, while making sure my kid had whatever she needed. It isn't like I never seemed to have fun, after all I wouldn't have been a good parent that way, I just made sure that I had good life insurance and correctly selected beneficiaries at all times, while slowly destroying my body.

Thanks to COVID, I wound up at home all of the time. My hair grew long and I got a thrill and the feeling of it brushing across my back, or the weight of it in the shower. My nails got longer and I decided to shape them, instead of trimming them. I had always enjoyed stopping to look at gorgeous or cute dresses, but I suddenly was struck by a sadness, knowing that the way I had treated my body, I'd never be able to wear the ones I loved... Not that I wanted to, or anything, you understand, I'm just starting to work out and eat better so that I could, okay?

It was around this stage of denial and discovery that r/egg_irl content started to hit the front page, because of a few particularly good memes, I loved them and interacted a bit, so the algorithm decided to keep sprinkling them into my feed. When they scrolled by, I would giggle and upvote and feel happy for a few moments.

Eventually, I subscribed and spent more and more time reading those, r/traaa, r/mtf, etc. and one day, I just couldn't resist responding to a comment that resonated with me. Before I knew it I was talking about my trans experience and joking and picking a name.

It was three days later that the understanding sunk from my surface thoughts and actually hit home. I had been reading on what it is to be transgender and everything kept hitting home, hard, but what finally broke down that wall was reading about internalized transphobia. Every line was familiar. Each effect was my experience. Finally, I broke down and cried wailing about how I didn't want to be trans (who wants to be hated and hunted), but once I was done, I finally felt better.

From that day forward, it has been like a future actually exists. There is a life that I actually want to live out there and I am heading toward it, in spite of the fear my society imposes on me. I actually want to live to see it!

In my case, the knowledge that transition exists did save my life and does so in a continuing manner. Not only am I finally truly alive, but I'm no longer carefully trying to accidentally die.

But, the habits aren't gone. I still barely live, much of the time, I still fear troubling others, I still fail to reach out. I still cut myself off and try to disappear into the background.

I literally discussed keeping in touch with a lovely freshly omnigendered person that I met because we got along so well and you know what: neither of us has reached out. I fear that xir likely also thinking of what a bother they must be and how she can't initiate, in case the other is just being nice. I know that's what I'm thinking.

I am getting a little better at accepting that I'm allowed to want things for myself and every now and then I convince myself that I can "waste" the money on me. It is usually clothes that manage this, unsurprisingly, but everything else tends to just fill my bookmarks.

But, I have yet to accept the idea that I deserve to exist. I'm something wrong, something unwelcome, something unlovable. It isn't that any of this is true, logically, it is that I believe it at such a deep level that my logic can't touch it. I struggle to accept an invitation to help or to shared time, because I'm clearly just a burden to the person who offered it. I wouldn't want to trouble them by taking their outstretched hand,,,

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation. the goal, for them, was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-deprivation that so many of us learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to