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DFTBA

Sometimes the world gives you little glimpse of a reality you are not exactly ready to face and I think that was why this silly book actually was painful to read. Turtles All the Way Down has a plot that is pretty normal for John Green; his sense of pacing has both intrigued me and comforted me with its gentleness since I first started reading his work about five years ago. But there is something about this book that truly unnerved me and part of that unnerving feeling is that the mental health issues the main character is facing is something that resonated with me too closely.

No I don't have OCD, that I am sure, but anxiety is something that I have been coming to terms with for years. The constant thoughts racing towards a nonexistent finish line, the feeling of constantly needing to move, needing to do SOMETHING, anything just to slow it down enough to eat, to sleep, to have thoughts that are not constantly plagued with unknowing is something I do live with.

I don't live in ever tightening spirals, or at least I don't characterize it that way. Instead it is running, so much running until I feel like I need to collapse but I know if I do I will never get up. I am used to this feeling, the running but sometimes my legs want to seize and and I want to stop and tend to the injury and hurt I have caused. Even my coping habit, though not self harm (finger pricking) like the novel is still harmful. I have been using a form of self harm as treatment for years and even though I know it is hurting me I still go back. Hell I am here right now as I am typing, feeling soothed by every deep breath in while also revving myself up to run again.

I also relate too much to the main character not wanting to replace herself with pills.  I know there is no shame in it but there is a fear that washes over me whenever I even think about medication. What if I discover that who I think I am, the drive and determination is just a manifestation of my disease and when I take a pill it all goes away? What if the only reason I am successful is because I am so good at running and then I take something that makes me stop. I don't think I would know what to do if I stood still, notice the trees, how the rain of Portland dances off of the surfaces of cars at night, reflecting streetlights into the dark.

I don't post much and when I do I know that the majority of people in my life won't see this which in of itself is soothing. My friends and family know that I have nervous tendencies, that my mind never exactly stops running but I think that if I expressed the full extent of the speeds that I run...well, I am not really sure.

Right now as I write this my mind is in ten different places; work, reactions from MB when he reads this, how due to this disease I have ruined friendships (even if it was with bad people) I have isolated myself, and I might have stunted my own emotional growth, how the Internet here doesn't like to work and how, at the end of it all, it never stops. Like Aza I am not sure if I can describe it all, there is no pain involved but there is no way of making it stop and even if there was I don't know if I would want to know myself with out the thoughts.

Every moment, from the time I open my eyes to the moment I think myself to sleep I can't stop. It is almost a compulsion and it drives every interaction. I think about trivial emails, interactions from decades ago, comebacks to things said to me over a decade ago and sometimes I drift off course and imagine and wish I could go back in time and say them, how the scenario would have changed even though such thoughts are impossible. I worry about appearing dumb so I think of every possible scenario for every conversation even with those who I love at hyper speed, choosing the words that will get reactions I can handle.

But then the thoughts about the other reactions fill my mind, make me quit activities, make me hide and when I am asked to get outside of myself I snap. I would rather live within myself, safe from the thoughts than living.

Maybe comparing my thoughts to an endless game of chess against an imagined chess master in my own mind is a better metaphor. I never know who I am facing but I know if I lose the game I lose everything I have worked for. That if I move off my given track of activities, or thoughts, that I will somehow lose a pawn, or my queen to this foe and never be able to get it back. However screaming into the void of the Internet has always been more comforting than actually talking which should have been my first warning that I am not always winning this game.

I have learned to somewhat live with the constant thoughts but I know as much as the protagonist of the story that it is not normal. Sure it might even sound normal here but consider this; my thoughts are so plagued with doubts that I feel the constant need to google myself, to check blogs of people I haven't spoken to since high school just to make sure that I am not the bane of their existence, to see that they have forgotten about me in a way where I no longer have to worry or fear what they might be saying. That my friends is not normal, that is irrational, that is me checking the pieces on the board to make sure everything is there even when there is no game being played.

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takato yamamoto

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To be entered, reblog this image. 

Must be following me (l0stkeys)

No spamming your followers, you may reblog more than once but be considerate.

No giveaway blogs.

Winner will be announce on the 15/09/13 at 10pm british time. 

Good luck 

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Can We Stop Worrying About Millennials Yet?

This is outstanding. Click through for the whole thing!

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Michele Caragher 

Embroidered details in Game of Thrones 

‘Michele Carragher is a London-based Hand Embroiderer and Illustrator who has been working in costume on film and television productions for over 15 years. She studied Fashion Design at The London College of Fashion, where the course incorporated design, pattern cutting, garment construction, embroidery, millinery and illustration. At the same time she attended a three year evening course in Saddlery at Cordwainers College learning skills in leatherwork.

After leaving college Michele worked in Textile Conservation, repairing and restoring historical textiles for private collectors and museums, specialising in hand embroidery. She then moved into a career in costume for film and television, initially working as a Costume Assistant/Maker on productions such as the BBC’s Our Mutual Friend, ITV’s David Copperfield and Mansfield Park. She soon gravitated towards the decoration and embellishment of costumes, using skills in hand embroidery and surface decoration, taking inspiration from the many historical textiles she had encountered working as a Textile Conservator. 

The first production that saw her undertake the role of a Principal Costume Embroiderer was for HBO’s 2005 Emmy Costume award-winning production of Elizabeth 1. Her most recent work has been on HBO’s 2012 Costume award-winning television series Game of Thrones, working on all three seasons.

As a Costume Embroiderer Michele specialises in hand embroidery and surface embellishment, using traditional hand embroidery techniques, smocking, beading and surface decoration. She works directly onto the completed garment or starts with motifs and textures on silk crepeline/organza, which are applied to the costume and then worked into once on the actual garment. She also works on existing machine embroidery designs that are not too dense, adding some hand stitching and beading to give a more authentic, hand-finished look.

Michele finds hand embroidery has more flexibility and diversity than that of embroidery created by machine, as there is a greater variety of thread choice and colours to use. It is also possible to work more easily on garments that are already constructed. However, machine embroidery in combination with hand work can be very useful when completing many repeats by creating light outlines or a less dense machine stitch, work can then be completed by hand and again can be carried out on a finished garment.

Michele is a highly creative Costume Embroiderer, producing original designs as well as working closely to a costume designer’s brief to create their desired look.’

Text and images from  http://www.michelecarragherembroidery.com

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Cosplay Eye Makeup

Let me introduce you to one of my favorite cosplay channels ran by zWinnieYap.

She creates some amazing eye makeup that can be used for bishounen makeup, villain makeup, gyaru makeup, or any other application of her videos. Please like and share because she definitely deserves more attention for her craft!

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Tutorial-Putting in Horse Hair Braid/CLAMP Ruffles by *RuffleButtCosplay

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Hello, dear friends. It certainly has been a while. I haven’t had a lot of time lately to be angry about costume things. But today, I found the time to get very mad about how terribly misunderstood boobs are, and how misrepresented the relationship between boobs and the people who have them is, especially by people who would design characters with boobs for video games.

So here is my attempt at explaining the day-to-day relationship between a person, their boobs, and physics. Because like with any external, protruding organ (AHEM), barring some rare circumstances and exceptions (like red carpet events), you’d rather not spend day constantly aware of its presence.

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Why don't I OWN one of these?

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Tehehe turns out Sandy and I are Internet famous lmao. 

Female Engineer from Team Fortress 2 and female Henchgirl from Venture brothers; Sandra Gamboa and Zally Adams; chicagoscene.com

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Personal stuff is personal

 I guess it started with my depression. I had just gotten my Master's and I was still unemployable. I started to isolate myself, hide from the world or worse, lash out in anger. I would find myself weeping when I took showers so my cries could be covered by the sound of the bathroom fan and the cascade of water. You would tell me it would get better, that everything would be fine, I just had to hold on and everything would be fine.

Our friends said the same thing but my depression worsened when I started working a low pay part time job. I would work hard, trying to make the best out of my situation only to get home and feel obligated to pleasure you. I worked all week, you worked two days, making twice I did for 12 hours of work yet I was the one who was supposed to be grateful. I was the one who had to bend over backwards to please you sexually even though I felt like I was dying inside. I had to appease you, it was my job as your girlfriend to please you. 'A healthy relationship needs sex.' You would say or ' I need to get blown everyday.' No, you were never direct, you were passive aggressive and so invested in your own sexual needs at the end that the fact that I my emotional needs were thrown away.

I was obligated to be subservient to you for all the wonderful things you did for me even though you were living rent free in the home my family bought, even though my family and I bought the food you ate, paid for the trips we went on....No, I still owed you more. When I wasn't pleasing you I was ignored. You sat here, on Reddit for 12 hour stretches, ignoring not only me but the real world around you. I would have to beg you to even go to the grocery store, because Gods forbid that you were away from your computer for more than five minutes. I know you are a Men's Rights Activist now but I think even to their standard what you did was unjust.

I would ask you about Reddit, tell you that I felt this way, that I felt like I was a third wheel. You would nod and agree to cut back only to isolate yourself with the computer again a week later. Yes, I gave up for the last four months when I was working. I gave up trying to connect with you in hopes that maybe you would wake up. But you didn't. You just made me a ghost in my own home.

We never went out unless it was somewhere you wanted to go. I would wait for days for you to finally get up and go somewhere and was so excited to do something fun that I didn't know how to control myself. Then again you made sure I was judged. You had no right into shaming me about what I drank, and you might think you didn't Alex but every time I ordered more than one thing I would get sneered at or talked to. 'I think one is enough' was the famous line.

The friends I introduced you to did the same thing. I became a ghost, a figment to any social engagement or just forgotten. 'Well you don't like coming to game night so I assumed you wouldn't want to come to this either' was often what I heard when I wasn't invited to a party or a night shooting pool. I was ignored and scorned because of a mixture of what I was becoming out of my pain and what was going on behind my back on tabletop nights. I wouldn't find out until later how bad my friends had actually gotten.

While I was working nights you had her over. I thought nothing of it, she was a mutual friend after all but then I started noticing little things. Like when she was over and you answered the door without a shirt on claiming you were getting a massage, or the look of guilt on her face when I would get home early. You were both terrible liars but I clung to the hope that one of you would at least be honest with me. What hurt the most though, what hurt the most Alex was how you looked at her. You looked at her like you once looked at me instead of the dead eyes you gave me towards the end. That twinkle and spark was there and I knew I lost you. At that point I knew we were over and I was bracing myself for the end. But you had no intention of ending it.

I asked you point blank if you two were together, I asked both of you and our friends who would see the two of you without me. You all lied to my face and said no. You even would rush out of the house to go have dinner with her and not tell me until you came home. And to this day you expect me to just be Okay with that?

Then I found out my Mother had stage three cancer. A type of cancer so rare mind you that only 700 women in the world get it every year. I needed my friends, I needed support and understanding. Instead I had to confront you. You made me break up with you during all of this.

Alex, you said you were going to the grocery store which sounded fine. But then four hours passed and I called you. We had to discuss things, we had to figure this out. You took another hour to get home before we talked. When the break up happened you cried. I don't know why you cried but you did. I was crying, not because this was the end but because I had to take charge. You couldn't even be honest with me when we broke up. Again, I had to do the dirty work for you, I wonder if that makes it easier for you to sleep at night because for me, it just made me hate myself more.

You claimed you never fucked her. You claimed it was nothing physical and that you weren't cheating. But you were and did Alex. You emotionally abandoned me and instead of being a man and admitting it, you stayed in my house, still got pissed that I wasn't fucking you, lived off my family and made me end it while I was dealing with my Mother possibly dying.

I was a wreck after it happened. I didn't eat, couldn't sleep to the point I had to take sleeping aids and had to deal with doctor's visits and phrases like 'finalizing the will' and 'low percentage rate of survival,' 'chemo,' and 'likelihood of being genetically susceptible is high.' You left without packing your things. You were so scared of what I might do Alex that you wouldn't even come back to pack your own things. I packed everything for you. Worse, I had to do it alone.

The friends I had with you, the people I introduced you to, the ones I made sure you would get along with chose you. And I would be lying if I said I didn't hate them for it. They were all there to comfort you, to take care of you while I was left in the cold. I lost everything in two weeks Alex, something I doubt you can wrap your head around.

'Yeah I kinda suspected something was going on' was what I would hear over the course of two months after we broke up or 'Oh I thought you knew.' I was made a fool of Alex. I needed friends to help me get through this emotional point where everything in my life was falling apart but instead Alex, instead I was alone on an island and painted to be the villain. Worse of all, everyone had lied to me. Not just you, not just her but the very people I needed to lean on. They all lied too.

I know I talk smack, everyone knows that is how I deal with things, it is how I process what is going on. But what did I do to deserve this? Our communication failed, yes it did but you were too busy with other things to even notice how depressed I really was. You said it was my duty as a girlfriend to take care of you, to tell you how much I appreciated you, that I had to tell you every day. What, wasn't it enough that I protected you from my family. That I would, even in my darkest hours try to make YOU laugh? That I edited your Master's work? That I tried to push you to accomplish anything? That I wrote your lesson plans, reminded you of every engagement you had, to call your family, to get your car fixed, to pay a bill....That I gave myself up for you?

I still haven't been able to deal with this. Not fully. My mind is so full of rage at you, at our old friends, at the people I once held so dear that sometimes, sometimes it is blinding. I gave you four years, I gave many of our friends more than that. I know I could look at the good times but that is impossible until I find inner peace for myself. Alex, and to any of my friends who might one day see this understand I am not doing this for you. I need to write this for myself. I need to show the pain and anger I have that I was too scared to show before out of the idea I might lose you all. I understand now that I had nothing to lose; all of you were already gone.

I have spent my life not allowing myself to get closure. Allowing myself to pent up my pain and just deal with it. I was trained to do that; anger is bad, rage is worse but, I can't do that anymore.

And what I worry about most right now isn't you or any of them. I worry about Mark. I worry that by dwelling on this, by reliving and exposing myself to this pain that I will lose him and I can't bare that thought. I love him in a way that I never loved you. I would and will do anything to make him happy and I know he would do the same. I would sacrifice anything to make him happy and I am so, so scared that he will just, disappear like all of you did.

My life is coming back together now, slowly. I have new friends, and two jobs that pay well in the field that I am passionate about. I have a Mother who, even though she has some major flaws, is now cancer free and I have been happy since November. I am learning what it means to be an adult again and more importantly I am rediscovering who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life. Yet this baggage haunts me.

Every time I think I am through with it I get scared; scared of losing friends, scared of my own shortcomings and terrified that I will lose the person I love more than anything else. The fears I harbor were once fresh wounds but are now turning to scar tissue that, I know now, might never fade away. I am moving on, learning to live and deal within the real world and take credit for my own shortcomings and failures. The experiences I now have have burned me in ways that makes it hard for my to trust people. I used to find making friends easy as getting coffee at Starbucks but now I am scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of disappointing others; afraid that making friends and reaching out is all in vain. For if all of you have taught me anything over the past year, it is that friends, no matter how they might say they love you, will always leave you when the going gets too tough.

But this is the last thing I need to do before I could really exhale and take in another deep breath of clean air and be free.