real life

A 1188-post collection

::Confused Zombie Noises::

I need something. I dunno what it is, but I need it. I need it like air, because I'm sinking into the horrific realisation that maybe my bod is stress adapted and will actively seek being petrified of nothing because it thinks that's the state of normal.

What. The. Fuck.

I suspect that the Ashwagandha I'm taking isn't working as well as the Original Brand(tm) because it's the herbal supplement version and not the "clinical" version that reset my brain chemicals to a wonderful state of approaching average1. It was wonderful while it lasted, but do you think I can find that stuff anywhere in the stores, these days? No-o-o-o-o. No brain-resetti herbal shit for this little 'Nutter.

Chemist's Warehouse website says they have it, but I've been on the Leyland's tour to go to each of the three I know of, and it's never firkin there. Contemplating order-by-mail for this shit. It's the good shit.

Meanwhile, Beloved is looking at stuff like Pregnenolone and 5-HTP as solutions to my lack of energy without realising that the core problem - my anxiety - is gonna likely get exacerbated by this shiznit. Like, sure, they look good on the surface, but the instant the research reveals that they spike anxiety... I get out the 40' barge pole.

Meanwhile, I'm constantly terrified of nothing and wearing myself out in the process. Going to sleep early, waking up early, and starting the whole gorram cycle all over again. Which affects my ability to brain at all, focus on any one thing, or not dive off into a million directions at once.

I hate being tired all the time from being scared all the time. I hate feeling down because I can't keep up with the billions of ideas and things I want to exist. I hate being helpless. I hate feeling like this. All. The. Time.

IDK whether to cry or go nap. Neither will help.

But I can make myself a jelly as a post-day treat and maybe that will help reset my noggin a little.

That before story, methinks.

  1. There's no such thing as 'normal', everybody's weird -- Professor Elemental. Words of wisdom IMHO.

Mondays...

Another five days of grind are looming ahead. Another five days of slog and hoping for a decent time window to put my dreams even one baby step ahead.

I tried to have time off on the weekend and failed at that. I'm always putting aside my plns for other nonse. Other people's plans are way more important than my need to faff off.

Except...

Except I feel really worn out in the soul because it feels like I'm not getting enough

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Falling off the wagon

I love too many things with sugar in them.

Which is why my weight is up into the 77 kilo zone. Further from my ultimate goal of a scientifically-mandated 70 that I'm supposed to be at. I really need to stay away from the sweet things, but... They're firkin delicious, dangit.

I gotta stay solid on the wagon for at least two weeks. Or eat minimum as is my usual wont until such time as I reach something approaching a happy equilibrium.

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Ar En Ar

Having cleared 81K of B'Nar, I got in some good naps and some lovely steak at Hoggies. No surprise, I feel a lot better about my place in this world.

Sometimes, it helps to just... take a nap.

Of course, it's all because anxiety sucks. You get so stressed out that something snaps and the body's like, "F this S" and turns off all the adrenaline so all one is left with is the depression chemicals.

So now instead of being scared

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Once more...

  • Onto my bullshit
  • Unto the breach
  • With my lack of focus
  • Kitten brain

Pick any three. I'm blaming the carb feast my Beloved brought home for Valentimes. We're belaying the actual good food for tonight because like literally everywhere was booked out before we even thought of it. So Beloved brought home cheesecake, chocolate, ice cream, and macarons and we binged MacGuyver and ate a lot of crap.

Perfect couple's night IMHO.

Tonight, we're headed off to Hoggies for a belated Valentimes

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Valentimes!

Yes, I spelled that intentionally.

It's that time of year when the marketing push turns to love. Buy chocolates for the one you love. Buy flowers for the one you love. Buy this, buy that, show them you love them with...

Diamonds, flowers, gold, silver, wine, five-star dining, cars... they will attempt to equate money with love. That's because money can be reduced to numbers and that fits well with being able to quantify stuff.

Thing is...

I don't got the money

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My usual bullshit returneth

There's a meme on tumblr of a photoshopped etching that originally warned of communism, but is now... somewhat improved. Instead of the original caption, the spectre of Death now carries a giant scroll that reads, Lord help me, I'm back on my bullshit.

[Image of the very meme of which I spoke]

My bullshit is succumbing to assorted temptations instead of paying attention to what I should be doing for my own gorram good. Like... learning Java, CSS, how to do this

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So I fucked up. Again

I'm busy trying to be rational towards my anxiety, and it's not exactly working. I've made mistakes with my narrative choices before. It should be no big deal.

Except...

Except I've done this twice in the space of one month and I'm normally more careful about this kind of thing and, like the impending speeding ticket in the red tape stage of landing on me, I'm afraid this will somehow wreck my life plans.

Screwing up stories by saying things sideways or

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Cheevs?

I think I've plateau'd with adding flavour text to Faxephoun. At least, I have little idea of what to do next for that particular daydream. I need to do some research about building D&D worlds and modules. Set some stuff on stone and all that yadda yadda.

Yes, I am aware that this is ambitious as hell. Aim high, at least you don't shoot yourself in the foot.

My next side-project will likely be diddling about with RPG Maker if

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Fucking Anxiety at it Again

Whenever I try something big-for-me, there's always that spike of utter, abject terror that ends up with me hurting myself in strange and interesting ways.

For instance, yesterday I spilled hot soup on myself.

I wasn't hungry (warning sign) so I made myself a big ol' undertow mug of chicken stock broth. In the process of transferring the cup from the electric kettle stand to the bench where I planned to stir in the cream, I bumped the mug against the edge

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I did it!

I sent Adapting off and now the waiting game begins. The last potential publisher gets to wait until July or the other lot gets back to me, whichever happens first. They are my last, best hope (help me Obi-Wan Kenobi...). One gets back in 30 days, so word by the 12th of March or they don't want me. Their loss.

But I did it. I was brave and sent off the files they demanded. Yay me. Now I have most of an

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Progress?

I know where the problem is with Gears of Spud - the nebulous idle clicker I was concocting. I need to make a CSS style sheet so the layout is cemented.

Which means that my next goal-oriented HAM days are going to have "Learn CSS" on there. What it is, how to use it, how to make sure it doesn't muck up. That sort of deal.

I do know it's a way to include HTML into whatever doesn't use it, so I

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Another Full Day

I got a lot to do, of course. Another unfuckening of the house. Another Instant. Another 500 words. Another TAZ flash fanfiction.

Maybe I really am writing like I'm running out of time. Given the way the world is increasingly funked up, headed for assorted disasters - do you blame me?

I only have this life and I'm past my family average halfway point. Barring accidents and whatnot, I have my own lifetime left. Less than that.

If nothing else, I should

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New Habits to Forge

Obviously, I'm still getting used to the new focal range, especially when working on my computer. Having to turn my head more to pay special attention to things is... awkward. I'll get there in the end.

I have figured out that if I want to watch television whilst falling asleep, I have to swap over to my old formula. Things be blurry, but not too blurry to see and understand things up there. Good enough for now. Future-proofing that plan may be

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Back on the Wagon

Beloved is continually tempting me with treats on weekends. I succumbed to temptation and got a caramel-sugar sundae the other day.

Yesterday? Didn't have too much at all. I've fallen more or less into the habit of having one meal a day, with the occasional allowance for snackadoos.

My usual meal is one steak with an option for camembert and figs1 or my pickled strawberries and mascarpone if the steak in question is beef. For pork steak, I eat more of

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