#on todays episode of me and my vague shitty health

[mmso-notlikethat]

🤡

[camgoloud]

who else up feeling the soul-numbing empty hopelessness for absolutely no reason this friday night

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[ireneinisolation-blog]

3/20 - COVID Dreams

I’m getting to this rather late in the day, and while I had planned for a larger topic, I’ve decided to go light instead, especially as it is so close before bed and I don’t want to wind myself up. Here it goes.

Since coronavirus first started circulating in Wuhan in January and the first stories of it started to make it here (not sure exactly when it was, but early-ish) I’ve had dreams and nightmares about it. Interestingly, I don’t think I actually had the virus in any of these dreams, but a lot of anxiety surrounding exposure and quarantines. I don’t think have yet begun to have anxiety dreams about economic collapse, but I’m sure those will come eventually in one form or another.

I think my earliest dream was just a vague idea of being in quarantine. But it was not super negative or all that emotional overall. It was just that I was in quarantine for suspected exposure, and that was it, nothing happened.

Another one a few days later involved my college roommate inviting me to go on a day trip with her to Shanghai. I politely declined as I did not want to be exposed to the virus. After that, some Veronica Mars characters appeared out of nowhere and that was a nice distraction.

I later had another covid dream with Veronica Mars characters, interestingly. Though not that interestingly I suppose as I was rewatching old episodes around January/February. In the second dream, it was a very anxious dream. I was quarantined at a military base after possible exposure to the virus. We slept in an open room (the same as in the images that came out of Wuhan where people with mild versions of the virus were kept), and our eating was regulated by when the military allowed us to have food. It was completely out of control, and within the dream I felt quite anxious. But I guess my mind decided to turn it around. One of my close friends from childhood showed up, and then it was like instead of being in quarantine, we were just having a sleepover at a military base with a bunch of other people. And then Logan from Veronica Mars showed up - hot Logan from the movie and newest season. So my friend from childhood and I just spent our time flirting with him. My brain really improved that situation. By the end, not such a bad dream.

I think there have been other dreams about quarantine. Honestly, too many dreams of this variety to count at this point.

One of the weirdest dreams I’ve had so far on this topic, and honestly one of the weirdest dreams I’ve had in a while relates to the movie Melancholia, which I did not see recently, but have been thinking about a lot recently. I saw it for a class when I was younger and I hated it. I still hate it. But for whatever reason it really stuck with me. So basically, first half the movie, main character played by Kirsten Dunst is super depressed during and after marrying a rather bland looking Alexander Skarsgaard. The second half the movie, there is an impeding apocalypse because there is another planet that is about to smash into the earth and kill everyone, and Dunst���s character suddenly finds a way to be ecstatic and really come into herself in the end of the world. When she is doing this, she can be seen doing all kinds of weird things in which she is reveling in the end of everything. One of those weird things she is doing is that she lounges, naked under the night sky, glowing in the bright light of the approaching planet. It is some weird symbolism (I think the movie is something about her not being able to handle living, while everyone else can’t handle dying? I don’t know. Lars Von Trier is fucking weird). Well I’ve been thinking about this movie a lot lately, because I’ve been thinking about how people are responding to this current “apocalypse” (not really an apocalypse, but still damn shitty hellhole). Some people hoard TP, some people retreat from the world, and some people, interestingly, seem to thrive on the chaos. Not necessarily in the sociopath way, not necessarily not in that way either (some of them are sociopaths). A week ago, I feel like I was feeling a little like this. Feeling invincible in the face of uncertainty. If only I could get the virus early, know I had it (but also just really hope that I wouldn’t have a severe reaction), and then everything would be fine, right? This week? Not so much. Now I’m just super anxious and not feeling very Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia-esque. But I still know a few people are like this. Anyway, that’s all background. Here’s the dream:

I was on the side of a hill near a house, and under a tent? like those weird outdoor ones that are white and used at festivals. Well outside of the tent was someone who I - in real life - knew when I was younger but have totally lost contact with. She was lying on the side of the hill, naked, and basking in the end of the world! Freud with surely have a fucking hay day with this one. Within my dream, I tried to avert my eyes as it would be indecent to see her that way. But she was reveling, and complained of my prudishness. Then the dream changed, apparently my brain was bothered. Instead we were in her house - both clothed - and she had a tiny yappy dog that was jumping all around. I was super annoyed with it, and tried to go upstairs and lock the annoying dog outside of the room. Somehow it got in, and then I spent the rest of the dream trying to figure out how to kick the dog out of the room. (I’m not normally so weird with dogs. I mean, small yappy ones can be quite annoying, but overall I’m quite the animal enthusiast.) So yeah... that dream was quite weird, especially as far as Freudian related things go. But I swear it wasn’t sexual. It was just WTF Melancholia.

Another dream that I had very recently first involved a bunch of teenagers getting drunk at my high school - I wasn’t in high school, but there and observing - they were being very rowdy, and very gathered together. I found out from the administration that they were partying to protest social distancing. Like dicks. This was no doubt based on the face that I keep hearing about people, especially college kids, doing shit like this that is going to fuck over everyone else in the end. The fact that they were teenagers probably relates to me recently watching Sex Education on Netflix to distract from the unpleasantness.

The second half of that dream, I was at a music festival with a bunch of women in their 70s and older. I was standing near the registration desk, and a few women were asking if they really have to wash their hands all the time, as it is inconvenient because their aren’t enough facilities for it and they want to just relax. Then they asked if they could just keep their hands in their pockets instead of washing their hands. We all agreed this would probably be fine. I think this dream probably relates to my anxiety and the world’s anxiety about older people getting the virus. But also the issue that some older people are not taking the situation seriously enough and keep going out anyway.

That’s all for my recent covid dreams. I am sure that there are many more to come, unfortunately. I will update later if any more interesting ones come up.

Let’s see, daily updates... daily updates... Thank god for my fidget spinner. It’s been doing a lot of work to absorb my nervous energy. It’s now over a week into my shelter in place and my apartment is still a fucking mess. I really should rally to clean it at some point. Wouldn’t it be nice to come out of all of this (at some point in the unknown future) and actually be a person with a clean apartment? Yes, I think that would be nice. I did some baking today, and that made me feel temporarily better because baking is such a nice distraction. Also, I was feeling very crappy the first half of the day. Certainly anxiety related. I just had this pit in my stomach and felt ill. Well I decided to make one of my favorite meals for lunch, and it got me back on track to feeling better. It is fare to say, few other people would find it comforting, but I love it: A bowl of chickpeas and chopped red cabbage with apple cider vinegar, EV olive oil, salt, onion powder, and garlic powder. It feels healthful and tastes delicious. In news related to the first half of the last item, I’ve been anxiety fasting. It’s motivated by the same thing as stress eating, but with the opposite reaction. Unfortunately, once I start this, it is hard to re-regulate my food, and then by extension my sleep, habits. I’m trying to do better. The chickpeas and cabbage helped.

Goodnight! I hope my dreams are free of anything covid related!

[rabbitindisguise]

BNHA spoilers to episode 11 of season 3/49 out of all of them:

I finished the available dub episodes and ohhhhh myyyy goood the narrative really doesn’t pull punches at all- stopping short of gratuitous character killing which is kind of impressive considering the genre  

I really feel like I’m understanding Bakugou as a character more after having watched the episodes. From the way the other characters treat him, his actions do kind of make some logical sense. Based on his outbursts alone, his classmates treat him like he’s impulsive and doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know the risks- like Midoriya he chooses to push forward despite them because he has something to prove. Yet they treat Midoriya entirely differently, so it’s probably really frustrating to deal with him. (Which, obviously, but it doesn’t seem like his issues with Midoriya were ever personal. They related to the power that Bakugou doesn’t feel like he has.)

In the preview for the next episodes, there were bits about Endeavor- he’s kind of similar to Bakugou in that he wants to improve buuuuut he’s ruthless and awful and I think maybe what people are more afraid of than Bakugou himself. The heros underestimate Bakugou in the same way the villains did: they think his convictions aren’t very strong. It seems like Midoriya either always, or recently, has started to understand that about Bakugou and is working around it which has the potential to shift their relationship the future. I’m not really sure that it would matter either way for Bakugou because he seems to take everything as a challenge (even though the eventual strain of that could make for an interesting story). 

Class B was really interesting in the third season- I’m still worried about what they’re going to do with Ochaco’s blood. Also I’m wondering what they’re going to do about the secret being revealed, and if Bakugou’s knowledge will come into play later in the seasons. And when is Midoriya going to take his place as the symbol of peace? 

I also totally haven’t gotten to the part where Bakugou has shitty parents which I heard vague mentions of? Anyway it’s pretty obvious from his behavior that I think the creators at least thought about it so I’m Deeply Hoping that in the future plotlines it’s dealt with in a way that validates the abuse aspect (and if they don’t I’ll do it for them because fuck that, it’s one thing to deal with like, the emotional impact of punching people, but another to do all that without the emotional foundation built on having good interpersonal relationships (yay for Kirishima! he’s so good)). The way that people are dealing with the “disabled” aspects of All Might is really interesting considering the fact that part of it is encouraging the characters to push themselves, but also understanding that there are times when characters shouldn’t push themselves. And the framing of Midoriya and All Might as ultimate awesome heros for playing in that area of Too Much is one thing, but another is the representation of All Might getting to do what’s important to him and managing his health as he does it. It’s really too hard for me to say anything more about anything really, because I haven’t read ahead and I don’t really plan on it? (also it’s not too important to me in enjoying it, my interest begins and ends where I can use the pieces of the canon to construct a better story, fanfiction or otherwise, which is the only way I can participate in fandom anymore at all)

I’m Really Upset I have to wait a couple more days to watch some more episodes. I know I’m technically not all the way caught up, and could watch the subs, but Midoriya’s dub voice is just so different I don’t think I could do it (it doesn’t help that I don’t have the same cultural reference to understand tone and stuff like I do in english without thinking about it) (which reminds me I was totally not prepared for the single FUCK that I heard during one of the episodes that hit me hard oh god for a second I thought Midoriya said it which was just too much) (let Midoriya say fuck) but yeah the whole anime has been really fun to watch I’m going to let it sit in my brain for awhile and then possibly incorporate some of the inspiration from it into my writing. 

Fun side note: just after I finished watching a thunderstorm started which was a pleasant surprise, but I’m too tired to today to think about writing to be honest so I couldn’t sit down through it and write a couple thousand words while it went on 

[missingteethblog]

04/25/2020 - 23:07

I finally had a day off today thank GOD. Work is exhausting me, they’re expecting me to work as if I’m a full time employee, when in reality I’m a part time, minimum wage student who’s trying to graduate this year. It’s very stressful and I’m getting really tired of it.

Crywank did a livestream concert this afternoon and even though it was only half an hour, it was incredible. James is really expressive when they play and you can really hear the emotion in their voice and in the way they play the guitar, it’s very beautiful. I tweeted about it and they replied to my tweet, and that honestly made my night. The bar for the fag is set so low LMAO oh lord. I’m also starting to think that Crywank is a hyperfixiation right now (I am very aware that this isn’t the appropriate word, but I don’t have any other accurate way to describe it). I learned how to play Welcome To Castle Irwell on the guitar today so I might fuck around and make a cover of it.

The Mondo Barbie Book Club groupchat is great so far. Everyone ordered copies of Mondo Barbie and once they all come in we’re legitimately going to be a book club. For Mondo Barbie. What a time to be alive. Everyone in the chat is so nice, I’m so glad it exists. Usually i hate groupchats because they overwhelm me and I never talk in them, but this one is pretty tame (I don’t wake up to like 100 messages) which means I can actually talk in it. It’s like we’re a tiny, underground family all brought together by this explicit and pornographic collection of Barbie short stories and analogies. Bizarre.

I really want to start writing songs, but I’m worried that my ideas will be seen as copying Crywank (and I really do not want that). Here’s a list of song ideas (directly copied from my notes app) that I have so far:

- The Worms’ Mass Burial Site (about purity as a child and having that destroyed as I got older - burying the dried up worms that my sister and I collected after a huge rainfall and burying them to honour them at 8 vs realizing it is a mass burial site at 18)

- Fuck You, Julia (as the name describes - talking about how my awful and shitty behavior gave me actual trauma over being called selfish (more specifically, my mom calling these episodes “the Thomas show” and saying that not everything’s about you))

- I Forgive You, Julia (or It’s Okay Julia, I Forgive You) (accepting who I used ti be as a result of gender dysphoria and being really mentally ill and forgiving my younger self)

I would love to call the first (or in general) album “A Very Crudely Drawn Self Portrait”, definitely fitting for the first album or EP. I even already have cover art that I drew at work for it. Boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, that’s why I make shit art on company time. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new era, or perhaps it’s just a fantasy that I will briefly live and then kill (like most things I do). I’m also starting to get back into visual art after a 3 year art block caused by depression and other mental health issues (but mainly depression).

The third floor of my house also smelled like weed today? For some reason? I haven’t smoked since 4/20, so maybe my sister was smoking some? I didn’t ask because I didn’t want her to tell my parents about it, so I guess it will forever be a mystery. My room vaguely smelled like weed, but not as strongly as the upper floor. Very bizarre. Really want to know where it’s coming from. 

Also had some wholesome interactions with a couple people on Omegle this evening; one person wanted to play me some songs which was very nice and calm, I talked to a throuple from Australia (which was awesome because I’m also polyam), and with someone with the same fetish as me. Overall terrible experience as usual (it’s 90% horny on there and I don’t understand it) but these interactions made it nice. :)

Currently listening to Pr8y Boi by Crywank on loop.

[hollywayblog]

Depressed Characters vs. Depressed People

My first thought when I woke up today was “I wish I hadn’t.” Consequently it’s almost 5pm and I haven’t showered, eaten or done anything remotely productive. I’ve spent all day in bed, trying to breathe away this dense rock of bitter awfulness in my chest. In fact, if my laptop hadn’t happened to be in the bed next to me, I wouldn’t be writing this right now. On a worse day, I wouldn’t be writing this regardless; I would just continue switching between numb dissociation and guttural sobbing until I exhausted myself enough to sleep for twelve straight hours with the vague hope of waking up better tomorrow.

So what’s my point? Well, in the midst of my shitty, boring, black hole of a wasted day, I suddenly thought “no wonder we don’t get depressed characters.”

I know there are a plethora of films that specifically focus on a character’s journey with their mental health. It’s set in a mental hospital or follows a mentally unstable teenager. But rarely do these characters suffer from depression alone. Usually, they are given a more “exciting” diagnosis like schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder. Furthermore, this is not the kind of representation I’m talking about. It’s niche representation, which is not the same as diversity. What I wanna see is a Marvel superhero whose weakness is not their dead parents but their hereditary clinical depression that spontaneously incapacitates them for varying periods of time. It’s not their entire arc, it’s just one piece of the puzzle that makes them who they are; another obstacle to overcome.

But the problem is this: depression is an unpredictable, frustrating, debilitating and fucking boring illness. It’s repetitive, it’s bleak, and when you have an episode nothing exciting happens. You don’t go on a homicidal rampage or start verbally abusing cashiers. You just wake up non-functional, or blink and find yourself numb and detached from reality.

It’s hard enough to find a film with a disabled character who isn’t defined by their disability, so when you consider that depression is still widely misunderstood and genuinely invisible, it fits the Hollywood M.O. to simply exclude depressed people from the role of protagonist.

But just as with any group that is underrepresented, the problem with the absence of accurately depicted depressed characters – who are well-rounded, who have purpose, whose story and life doesn’t revolve around their depression – is that it isn’t challenging any of the many misconceptions people have about the illness. Whether it’s that depression is not real or valid, depressed people are lazy, depressed people are selfish or wilfully negative – people who do not have it themselves are not getting a window into the experience.

And my favourite thing about art is that window. When I watched The Aviator, I was so disturbed and discomfited by its depiction of Howard Hughes’ obsessive compulsive disorder that I was moved to do further research into it. This was not a “mental illness movie,” but simply a great film about a complex, ambitious man who accomplished an astonishing amount in his life despite his mental illness. Good art very delicately provokes our empathy and opens up avenues of understanding for people we haven’t known and lives we haven’t lived. Those of us who suffer from an illness as disregarded and misunderstood as depression could really benefit from writers tapping into that ability.

Unfortunately that doesn’t change the fact that depression is not a juicy, exciting, psychologically titillating illness to portray. A standard rule of writing is to never include a scene that contains no tension, conflict or plot advancement, so how do you write a character who becomes essentially useless at the drop of a hat and spends days in bed trying to pick themselves back up? How do you make it worth the audience’s while to stick by a character who must adhere to a strict routine of boring, basic self-care to stave off the next episode as long as possible? Many writers would say it’s simply not doable, or not worth the effort. But as someone who both suffers from depression and works hard, laughs heartily and thrives in spite of it, I know that there are wonderful, captivating and exciting protagonists who just happen to have depression who are waiting to have their stories told.

I’m tired of seeing depressed characters who are problems for the protagonist to solve. I’m tired of seeing so-called depressed protagonists who are merely sulky; whose lives are never thrown off the rails by an unexpected episode; who never finds themselves isolated because they were too afraid to ask for help or because they scared everyone off by being honest.

I want to see – and therefore will write – characters who are saving the world, making something worthwhile, growing up, setting out, discovering life, discovering themselves. And hey, not all of them will be straight, white, able-bodied, neurotypical cis dudes. Because depression is hard to write, but it’s harder to live. It’s time for writers to challenge themselves to show the world something different. Something real. Something that can make a difference.

I’m interested to hear other opinions on this. Do you think there already exists some characters with a greater arc who just happen to have depression as one of their many challenges? Do you think there are any that come close? What are some aspects of having depression you wish would be addressed in media? Send me a message or reblog with your thoughts!