#i'm going to be working three 10-hour days a week starting monday i'd like a weekend to just chill

[moyokeansimblr]

Update

Not feeling so hot and I'm not going to do anything impulsive at 8PM on a Friday evening but

here is a link to a sfs folder with ALL of my content that's currently only hosted on patreon.

I want to add individual sfs links to the tumblr posts but that's a lot and I'm now regretting never adding alt dl links this whole time... and sorry I don't think the downloads in the sfs folder are in order... it also might be some other things, like fixed meshes or stuff. tbh I just added everything I've made after April 3rd 2023 since that was the last time I uploaded anything to sfs.

I guess while I'm here... I was going to wait until after I finish up the last of my active requests (probably by Monday, I'm almost done) but I desperately need a break from CC. I sent a group message on the 17th to my $4 and $6 patrons encouraging them to cancel, but I know not everybody knows patreon even has dms so maybe you'll see this post and I'll reach out again in the coming days so nobody is wasting their money. I am so immensely burnt out and I need to not create for a while. This is completely my own fault, nobody made me work on CC for 8-10 hours 5 days a week for the last several months and I fully knew it wasn't sustainable ages ago but I kept doing it because it made me feel good, until it didn't. Quite honestly, even before I sent the group message the instant wave of relief I felt just having made the decision to take a break... that caught me off guard but just confirmed I need this. I do feel really awful about it because I feel like I'm letting people down but at the same time I don't want to hate creating which was already happening. That being said, I don't know how long the lull in CC is going to be, and if you're only following me strictly for CC I apologize. As said I am still finishing up one request I still had, I'm about 75% done with that as of this post. But that's gonna be it for a while.

There is a part of me that wants to stop using patreon completely and unpublish my creator page (which is what I'm not going to impulsively do tonight without properly thinking it through...since there are positives like how easy it is to download files and whatnot) but I'd again encourage not only those who joined the $4 and $6 tiers but also the $2 tier to cancel so that you aren't wasting your money. If I did do this I would definitely do the individual sfs links on everything first. I'd not just leave you guys unable to download my stuff.

So, what does that mean for this blog? I'll spare ye, impatient readers, who have already read a lot because I ramble⬇️

Well, as of posting this I still have THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR Strangetown posts in my queue. And I'm not tired of playing that.

I'm looking forward to having an opportunity to do all of the things I've been neglecting. I'm finally going to go through the subfolder within my downloads of everything I'm downloaded the last few months and decide if I wanna keep it in my game or not. And finish default replacing everything. And all my other various little projects I haven't been doing.

Also, I want to start playing Veronaville 😮I've already started downloading lots from kattaty to replace the in-game ones, and I found a cool replacement for the neighborhood map. I am leaning towards making a new sub-blog for this so that you don't have to try and follow Strangetown/LFT posts and Veronaville/ALT posts at the same time. I've only ever played the Veronaville sims for like one day as part of a super failed megahood years ago so I'd like to get to know them.

So basically, I guess I'm a gameplay blog for now? Until I want to create anything again anyways, but I don't know when that will be.

I don't know how to end this post... I'm sorry for the disappointment, but thank you so much for enjoying my stuff 💛💛

#moyokean #sims 2 #ts2 #the sims 2 #thesims2

[raspberry-pudding]

4/8/2024

It's been awhile since I've made a post and I think I'd like to before I have to go into work today. It's only a 5 hour shift, so it'll be over in no time, but damn -- only 5 hours? Why even be there at that point?

I've recently put my foot down about the days I'm available at work, so I finally have a consistent weekly schedule that doesn't change much. The times might change, but I'm now only available three days a week, giving me four days a week to work on my projects. I'm really excited to have a routine come back into my life. There are so many things I've put to the side this year for work, and all of them are technically much more important than this job. Ugh, I just, can't wait to have a consistent schedule, even if the times might be different every week at least it's always the same days.

Let's talk about how my weed addiction is going below the cut.

I think the last time I posted, I talked about a friend I've made who is much deeper in the addiction than I am and how that's made me feel like I'm not really an addict. I think now, even though my problem isn't as extreme as others, I do still struggle with a problem that I need to cut out of my life. I might not be smoking the entire day, or doing high doses of THC like with a dab, but I notice that it's still impacting my life and keeping me from doing things that I want to do. It's like I come home from work, I smoke, and I just zone out on TikTok the entire evening. It's been a big problem, especially because I'm getting more and more bored in the evenings.

Another reason I really need to cut it out is my tendencies to snack more on weed. Especially the indica I'm using to help me sleep now -- I have to smoke it when I'm in bed. If I don't, and I just casually smoke it in the evening while at my desk or in the living room then I will eat anything in sight. To the point that my stomach still hurts the next day. It's bad.

Thankfully, I got a hybrid that doesn't make me hungry. Still, the dispensary isn't always going to have the non-munchie stuff in stock all the time.

I can't remember if it was Wednesday or Friday now that I was watching hotdiggedydemon, or Max G, stream and he was discussing his own problems with weed in the past. Also, how he's off it now, has never felt better, and agrees that it is an addictive substance. If anything, his talk about weed made me feel really validated that what I should be doing is the right choice.

Recently, I did have an evening where I smoked three joints -- three! But it was a one off thing because otherwise I've been good to only smoke one or two joints a day. My problem now though is that the first joint usually happens around 9 or 10 AM. I think that's way too early, but on my days off I struggle to restrict myself because it's so nice to smoke then clean the house. I do need to stop, though. I can't get high that early and expect to succeed at all the other things I want to do.

I'd like to start quitting by waiting to smoke around 4 or 5 PM and going back to one joint a day to ween myself off. I know my last plan didn't go well lol, when I said I was going to keep my weed in the basement. Maybe that could still be in the cards if I need it. So far, yesterday I got off work at 2 and did well to wait until after 4 to smoke. I think it's going to be my days off where I'll struggle the most.

In my head, I always see myself meditating to get past any cravings for weed I might have. But thinking about actually doing that makes me cringe a little. It's a little woo-woo, or hippy dippy. But maybe it's something that could help me. I don't really know though.

It's hard. I feel like I know so clearly the things I need to do to quit and get back the lifestyle I want, yet taking action feels impossible. And there's no reason for it to feel impossible.

It's a Monday, and I feel hopeful for myself that this is gonna be the week. But how many times have I told myself that for the past 2 years? At some point, it has to be true though.

Iris🪻

#recovering stoner #recovery #diary #self help #tw substance abuse #tw addiction #weed addiction #marijuana addiction #sobriety

[multiple-authors]

10 August 2023

"The force that through the green fuse drives the flower."

My date with myself this week I think will be Sunday morning when I go swimming with myself. Will think about it over the next few days to find a way to afford it.

Here I am writing for fifteen minutes non-stop. I will keep going. Whatever comes to my mind I will keep writing. I have been to the gym this morning, then I went to the shop and bought some tofu to eat before going to work this afternoon. I start at 3 and finish at 10, I think. I find that I dissociate when I'm there. If I am honest with myself, I am not that happy when it comes to my job. I don't like how much effort I put in and the remuneration I get back. It's not like I'm asking for loads of money. It's just... Here I am working 35 hours a week, scrambling to pay for everything. I hardly live an extravagant lifestyle. I pay for rent, bills, a few subscriptions (the gym, a protein powder, Spotify) and food. Then I'm left with coins at the end. I would just like to be able to go and do things without worrying about money, and start to properly save a little bit too. If I don't do this job, what job shall I do instead? I don't know. I keep thinking about selling my image as a way to make some money. People tell me I'd be good at it. I will go on 5 September to walk-ins. I feel like I will be rejected but at least if I am rejected then I know that I tried that route. It feels like I deserve to not have much money and work really hard. No... Nobody deserves that – not to be overworked for... Nothing. I deserve to earn a good living. I am finding ways to support my art practice. Look at me, really trying to make an effort and change my situation. I woke up this morning having the best dream sex ever. I just need to keep going. Have a full rest day once every two weeks – no guilt attached. When is my next one? Monday 21 August. I feel freer not having to date or talk to anyone. I feel freer not being stuck in a social media loop. I don't even want to look. I think this morning I might just finish this painting. What would a block of colour look like if I did lines up and down? Not much changing in colour, and consistency in value, just slight changes in hue. I will finish the Claude Cahun section, finish the floor, and do touch-ups elsewhere. If I work quickly I can hopefully finish it. Today or on Sunday. What else do I want to think about? How am I feeling? Slightly energised, frustrated at my lack of time for my practice. I think it's time for me to shower and then get to work for three hours or so.

[humanransome-note]

if god is real he is not in this michaels crafts store tonight

This is my first "Real Job"

I've sold merch for musicals, I did some medical billing under the table, but nothing standard and sturdy.

I started working last sat (10/15/22) that "shift" was unscheduled and from 9-2 and was "training" (i obviously use the term loosely) they just had me standing behind another guy as he worked the register on a saturday (regularly the busiest day)

No one gave me a register number/login until sunday. so my first day, was me standing, sweating (the AC has been broken, long before i even considered working here.) behind a guy who wouldn't really tell me anything with a line that constantly required backup. I could tell people were confused and pissed with two people standing behind one register.

sunday was better. the person who i was supposed to be standing behind just let me open my own register, and actually answered my questions. still a busted AC and they only had one T-shirt that fit me, so until they get new vests/aprons I am stuck with the same shirt every day this week.

have i mentioned that i was scheduled 32 hours? (the legal max for pt) my managers seem to be very fond of the "trial by fire" model of training.

monday (today) when I arrived, the other cashier left, without telling anyone. how she clocked out idk, considering i couldn't clock in until 5 to my shift starting and i couldn't clock out until 5 to my shift ending. so I was left manning the register alone. which I was sort of okay with the idea of, I mean sunday went well.

it appears most people going to Michael's on a monday morning are doing so to attempt returns. Which I fumbled my way through.

Also, no one has given me an earpiece, I had to ask, my manager said she'd get me one but didn't, and then asked why i wasn't answering the radio. I couldn't hear anything! no one told me how to use the radio! no one told me the volume could go higher, why would I know that? everyone else has earpieces and the last time I used a radio was in summer camp when I was like... seven... and they were transformers themed. I was also handed a scanner, with no clue how to use it, and every time i attempted to figure it out there would either be a customer or I'd get told to look busy, which always felt counterproductive to me. But performance is always more appealing than actually getting something useful done... until of course you have no clue how anything works and you're left floundering.

the last straw (today) was at about 2:45, I planned to get lunch at two, but couldn't because the other cashier wouldn't get there until three. Lunch, so far, has been the only time I get to be off of my feet. And I knew that would be a factor of the job, so I invested in some tylenol, which was in my locker, in the back of the store. A woman was attempting to use store credit, which I knew had to be processed differently, but wasn't entirely sure how. And I was desperate not to call for managerial help because the last time I did, she basically said to me she can't hold my hand. Well I'm sorry I was only shown how to do regular purchases and returns!

I finally caved and called for someone, a different manager came, and did the entire store credit sale without telling me how, and that on top of the line that had built as I tried to complete the purchase as well as the foot and back pain that was suddenly spiking due to the tylenol wearing off had me crying. legitimately crying, I had to beg the guy to let take my lunch break and he was obviously going to say no until i squeaked trying to hold back a sob.

the only reason I didn't run to the bathroom (also all the way at the back of the store) was because I physically could not run, i likely would have fallen and broken down in the middle of a main isle and no one wants to see that.

I have to work everyday except for saturday this week, and while now the schedule has me off for most of next week, that can change at the drop of a hat, and i tried to ensure that I have tuesday off through the portal (which I had to find through a fucking Reddit thread, because no one tells me a god damned thing apparently) it's not letting me.

I am tempted to find and join an Amish compound, because at least then the pain would have obvious value and results, opposed to me just grimacing all day and hoping no one goes full Karen on my ass

#wurds #note tries to get his shit together #but is slipping in others in the process #i broke and had to open a fucking reddit account to get help #because the people on the subreddit are more helpful then my managers #to tell you how it's been going

[mrsmarlasinger]

TW:

drugs, disordered eating, weight loss mention, calorie mention

What the fuck. So on Sunday night/Monday morning, I tried to do my monthly robotrip. This is only like the...ninth? time I've robotripped, but I've gotten it down to an exact science. You don't even know.

Like, I have alarms set on my phone that I turn on when I'm robotripping, because I space out my dosing in twenty-minute increments over the course of 210 minutes so I don't get sick (though I literally never get even the faintest trace of nausea on DXM anymore 😎) or have a DXO spike, and because I also take a RoboTab after my first peak in order to peak twice. Overall I always dose the equivalent of 310mg HBr: ten 15mg gelcaps and four RoboTabs. I start dosing at 2 AM with the gelcaps first, because they kick in slower than Tabs, and dose the freeb last.

I even have a schedule in my notes app that outlines how long come-up will take, when the euphoria will set in, when DXO conversion will start, when I'll peak, etc. Those scheduled times have always come within 10–15 minutes of reality.

Like, I cannot emphasize enough how predictable my robotrips are. It took me a trip or two to work out my exact dosing regimen and tripping timeline, but it's worked EXACTLY as expected for three trips in a row.

I also don't allow myself to build up any tolerance, so I always take a four-week break in between trips, and I follow that rule religiously—I'll trip a few days after my four-week tripiversary, but not even one day before.

The one time I noticed tolerance was in November of last year, when I was very loosely committed to one-week-per-plat and took a dose that, six days prior, had gotten me to lower third plat. Trying that same dose less than a week later barely got me to mid-second, so I took an eight-week t-break that successfully reset my tolerance.

Anyway. On Sunday night, I ate about four hours before I started dosing. I know you're supposed to robotrip on an empty stomach, but I haven't previously noticed any effects from going just four hours between eating and tripping. Prior to dinner on Sunday, I had not eaten for over 48 hours and had only had plain water. I'm anorexic, etc etc.

Now, I've lost weight since my last trip, so if anything, 310mg should've hit me HARDER than last time. But it just WASN'T working. I was barely even high. Around the time I should've been peaking, I took two extra RoboTabs (in addition to my usual post-peak one), as well as another an hour later. So I ended up on 430mg. For reference, 310mg gets me well into third plat. The most I'd ever taken before Sunday (aside from my crazy nightmare trip, which was 400mg + a 10mg indica edible) was 375mg.

An hour after my third extra RoboTab (freeb takes half an hour to start hitting for me), I didn't want to take any more DXM because it's dangerous to redose too much. But I was still barely high, so I took a dropper (~3mg) of THC tincture, since I knew from my nightmare trip that THC potentiates DXM. Didn't really work, so over the course of the next 45 minutes, I took two more droppers of tincture. Was now on 10mg THC and the equivalent of 430mg DXM HBr.

The tincture did work and I started to feel some of the usual robotrip effects alongside the THC effects. I ended up getting hellaaa high (though not as high as 310mg has gotten me before) and a little dex-holed, and I spent all of Monday sleeping it off.

However, it was very unsatisfying. I feel as though I wasted my monthly robotrip. What the HELL.

There's only two factors I can possibly imagine causing this. First, I took Wellbutrin for three weeks. However, Wellbutrin isn't supposed to inhibit DXM; on the contrary, it synergizes very very well with dex and I think even potentiates it. Also, I've only taken Wellbutrin once in the past FIVE WEEKS, so it's literally not even in my system anymore.

That leaves the other potential factor, which is, I suspect, the actual culprit: the two-day fast. Now, I would expect that fasting would actually make DXM hit harder, since, unlike THC, I don't believe it requires fats or anything to absorb, IIRC. However, I've had a high come on weird like this once before.

That was on 4/20, when I took the same THC tincture. It normally hits me like a truck and I've actually gotten OEVs within like fifteen minutes of taking a single dropper before. However, I hadn't eaten for about three days before 4/20. I ate shortly before I started dosing, but after 10mg (usually my max) and an hour and a half of waiting, absolutely jackshit was happening, so I popped a 10mg Dablet and waited a little while longer before giving up and going to bed.

And yes, I did wake up EXTREMELY high from those 20mg and it took me a full 24 hours to come down. But it was the same scenario as my robotrip: fasting for days, eating shortly before dosing, not getting high after ample wait time, taking more and more, and finally getting very high after taking an excessive dose in frustration.

So, in short, what the actual literal unironic fuck. I suppose I can understand this phenomenon when it comes to THC, where you do have to have something in your system for it to work, but DXM? Why?

I truly don't believe it can be tolerance or anything like that because, as I said, I have experience with this exact dosing regimen and t-break length. Aside from that time in November when I shot up my tolerance by breaking the week-per-plat rule, this is the only one of my robotrips that is a genuine outlier, and I just don't understand why.

Maybe I simply overate after days of fasting and had too much in my stomach. That is a real possiblity. I restricted the number of calories I ate on 4/20 (triple digits) and it still inhibited my high, but again, you do need something in your system for THC to absorb. So maybe my dex high was inhibited for the opposite reason on Sunday. I think the last time I ate so soon before robotripping, it had just been popcorn or something.

I don't know. I'm pissed. Just in case I do have a tolerance, I think I will skip my robotrip next month and take an eight-week break instead, goddammit. Aside from that, I will trip only if A) I have eaten every day for at least two or three days prior, and B) it has been at LEAST 6–8 hours (but less than 24) since I've eaten, so the food will have hopefully left my stomach.

I am admittedly tempted to take a rather large dose next time so I can skip the whole brouhaha of THC and redosing if I haven't solved my issue, but I don't want to overdo things if I have solved it.

And now that I write all this out, I do think a too-full stomach was very likely the issue. If I still believe that in a month, maybe I won't skip my robotrip after all. I don't know. We'll see.

Still pissed that May's trip was wasted!!!

#personal #dxm #dextromethorphan #robitussin #robotrip #robotripping #drugs #drugs tw #drugs cw #tw drugs #cw drugs #drug tw #drug cw #disordered eating tw #disordered eating cw #tw disordered eating #cw disordered eating #disordered eating #weight loss mention #calorie mention #calories mention #ed tw #ed cw #tw ed #cw ed #eating disorder #anorexia #long post #long post cw #(ik ik i'm obsessive about content warnings)

[aerial-aspie]

An Autistic Point of View 31

Hi there it's Hazel and welcome to episode 31!

So I went to my final university interview yesterday and let me tell you, it was the most unautistic friendly interview I've been to.

There was about 30 of us in this interview and they said it would be 2 hours long, so I assumed they'd go slowly one by one, doing individual interviews, however, that was not the case. They split the room in half and went to my half 'you guys will on a tour of the block first' and said to the other half 'the rest of you are doing a group interview' and my heart dropped. I am fine in individual interviews, however, a group one shocked me completely because I was not expecting it.

So as we went through the tour, my confidence began to sink and half an hour later when my interview began, it had hit rock bottom. We were split in half and believe there were 2 groups of 6 and then they stated that there would be 6 minutes per question, which basically meant we had less than a minute to talk for each question.

I went extremely quiet and the interviewer had to lean in to me, just to hear my answers because my anxiety had peaked. I didn't answer as well as I could've and in reality, I don't think I had the time either. To make it worse, everyone in else in my group was listening to everything I said and it was the same for them but some of them were extremely confident which made it worse for me.

I felt because of this lack of time, it turned into a one-upmanship competition as there were people like, I write articles which 500,000 people see, I manage xyz's social media, I've set up my own business and all I could say was I run a blog and a podcast which has almost no viewers on each. That was a massive confidence blow and seemed to almost reverse everything that therapy has helped me with improving my self-esteem and brought me back into the 'I don't do anything, I'm a failure' mentality.

So after that interview, it completely set in stone my first choice and my insurance choice and now all I'm waiting for is an offer from them.

Now, lets turn back the clock a few days to Monday. It's good old mock week! and to sum it up, it was a complete disaster.

To put it into context, it wasn't my fault and the fault lay in the SEN students room's poor organisation skills. I will try not to rant too much about this, so I will do my best to sum up all the complaints I sent to my head of year afterwards.

First of all, they forgot I had computer support and then proceeded to be put on a random computer, which somehow wouldn't let me sign in. The chief examiner for my school was rather rude to me when she went 'well why can't you sign in?' and I had no clue why.

Turns out, I was on a staff computer. Then they went to find me a laptop and started quizzing me about where I wanted to sit and I froze and couldn't answer. Then they found one of the computers was a student one and I managed to get sorted on there.

That was until the chief examiner was like you must do your exam in 'size 12 with double spacing' and I'd never heard this before and she was insistent that I should do it like that and didn't seem to get that I was confused. Luckily, when she did, I was allowed to work the way I wanted.

The next few ones were that they decided, in a room you can't ventilate, that they should ventilate it by keeping one of the doors open. I don't think they understood that this was terribly off putting for the three of us all sat doing mock exams in that room because we could hear every conversation really loudly and then screaming children in PE lessons.

They also decided it was a good idea to put someone with a verbal prompt in the same room as me and one other, which it isn't the girls fault for needing it, but the SEN rooms fault for putting someone who needed to talk with 2 people who needed silence.

Now this is the last complaint and the worst one. Whoever started my exam decided it was 1 hour 45 minutes not 2 hours 45 minutes. So at 10:50am when the guy who had been swapped into our exam said we had 5 minutes to go, I was shocked. I still hadn't answered question 3 yet and that should take the whole hour. I then went 'sir but the exam is 2 hours 45' and he was like, I've been told it's the length I've stopped you at so I will have to stop you and take your papers in whilst you have a rest break and I find out what the true length of time for the exam is.

Emails were sent and the chief examiner was called and verified it was a 2 hour 45 exam and we got the full amount of time in the end. Unfortunately, I had a breakdown in between and it took me a while to get back into the swing of things, but I did, in the end, finish the exam.

My head of year wrote a huge complain about this issue and the majority was fixed the next day. However, even though he made sure the door was closed at the start of Tuesday's exam, the examiner in the room kept opening it and every time someone shut it, he would open it again letting the talking be heard for all of us inside.

So unfortunately, it didn't go the smoothest, however, this will all be taken into consideration when I get my results.

But thanks for reading, see you next time!

#autism #autistic blogger #actually autistic #autistic girl #being autistic #autistic life #autistic problems

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-scène” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

#st vincent #annie clark #gq #interviews #shakespeare citations #christ on a cracker #lmao

[justinsdaysinthedark]

Post #2 - Thank You

What an overwhelming 36 hours it's been. An endless amount of phone calls & messages of support got me through what was an agonising day of waiting yesterday. This blog was started to keep my family and close friends informed about my journey but it's grown into so much more.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to each and every single one of you that took the time to reach out and wish me the best of luck. A simple message of support may not seem like much to you, but when you're in a situation like mine it means so much. Thank you.

Monday night provided the worst sleep I've had in weeks. Keep in mind, i've had some terrible sleeps in that time! Why? It was nerves. Simple as that. I was nervous for the gastroscopy and biopsy. It wasn't the procedure itself but the anaesthetic side to the operation. I haven't been under since I was five and the unknown had my measure. What if they didn't put me under fully? What if I could feel the procedure? What if I woke up early? What if I didn't wake up at all?

In retrospect, I lost sleep over nothing.

With the little sleep I did have, I woke up Tuesday morning earlier than normal. I was expecting the gastroscopy between 8:30am - 11:30am and knew I was booked in for a Radionuclide Ventriculography (RVG) scan of my heart later that afternoon.

Since being in hospital, 9am has been my regular time to get up, shower, brush the chompers - y'know, get ready for the day of sitting in my little 3x3 room and watching the world go past. Tuesday however, I was up and about at 7:30 - showered and ready. I hate feeling dirty, so if my procedure was at 8:30, I'd be ready to go.

Breakfast rolled around at 8:00 and I had to politely decline it as I was required to fast from 12am for the procedure.

This is about the time when my previous blog post took off and messages started coming in for the remainder of the morning. Before I knew it, it was 11am and nobody had been to get me for my procedure yet. I called the nurse and enquired to which I was told to hand tight, it shouldn't be much longer. Whilst she was around, she did my daily observations and it was no surprise to see my heart rate up to 100+BPM (regularly around 65BPM resting) and a slightly higher blood pressure. I guarantee this was due to the nerves.

Lunch comes around at 12:30 and once again had to politely decline. 12 hours fasting thus far - lucky I don't have an appetite still and honestly didn't care! It was around this time the doctor comes around with the results of my Lumbar Puncture. This fortunately came back negative as there was no major changes to the one I had three weeks ago. White blood cells still present with a marginally higher protein count than normal. I once again mentioned about my gastroscopy or there lack of and the doctor assumed I'd already had it. He said he'd follow it up and get back to me.

Mentally, I'm okay. Still incredibly nervous and a little frustrated I prepared myself for a procedure between 8:30 - 11:30 and still nothing. Your messages of support continue to light up my phone, which certainly kept me pre-occupied and made the time fly by.

Finally! 2:43pm and somebody comes to my bed to pick me up. "Justin Smith for a procedure? Let's go." I mentally build myself up as they take me. With my heart beating the quickest it had all day, we get going. Minutes later, we get into quite a dark room with a single scanner to my left and a glass wall. The radiographer, Liv meets me and goes through the basic questions. Name? Date of birth? Address? What are you here for? "A gastroscopy and biopsy" I reply. A few seconds of awkward silence follows so I split it with an "I think..." hoping to relieve the slight tension.

Liv replies with "not quite. We're here to do your Radionuclide Ventriculography scan of your heart."

My heart dropped. I spent the past fifteen minutes mentally preparing to go under and it's not even for the right procedure; I almost feel robbed!

To give you a brief understanding, the RVG scan involves injecting a small amount of radioactive material into your blood stream where they then track it until it passes through the heart, ensuring the heart is healthy and working as it should to a level that it should. Why am I having this scan? Good question. The doctors wanted to get ahead of the game essentially. Providing the biopsy comes back positive for lymphoma, I will need chemotherapy. The level of that chemo will depend, however if I do happen to require a strong dose, it can have negative effects to the heart. This scan is to ensure they have a baseline reading of my heart and ensure it will be able to handle a high dose of chemo.

This scan took 40 minutes from start to finish and before I knew it, I was up in my ward again. By this time, dad had arrived so at least I had somebody to talk to and reassure me when the time comes to get my gastroscopy.

4:00pm and the time finally came. 16 hours of fasting, I was slightly hungry but by this stage, I just wanted to get the procedure over and done with. I was still nervous, but more relieved the time had come. Having dad there for the hour or so beforehand made me feel a lot better about the whole thing.

The operation itself involved a gastroscopy (camera down my throat into my stomach) and if they could see lymphnodes, get a biopsy to test.

Cutting to the chase, was it worth worrying for 16+ hours? Not at all. All I remember is them checking my blood pressure, putting something in my cannula and asking me to count to 10. I got to 12 and next thing I know, I woke up coughing my lungs up in recovery with a nurse next to me. Luckily, the coughing only lasted for about fifteen minutes and that was just a result of irritating my throat.

Apparently, the gastroscopy went well and they were able to get a couple of good tissues from the lymphnodes to biopsy. Additionally, they also took the following photos whilst they were inside - I have no idea what they're of or even if anything is okay, but I thought they were cool!

For the first 45 minutes after the procedure, I felt fine. I was great! I felt incredibly thirsty and hungry but I assume that was simply due to the fact I hadn't eaten. Things from here turned pretty quickly once I had some dinner and a glass of water. I started to go downhill pretty quickly - feeling incredibly fatigued and tired....essentially dopey. It was from here I knew I just needed to have some rest and I'd wake up better in the morning. Needless to say, I was asleep by 9pm and basically slept through the night...except for when the nurses woke me up at 11pm, 12pm. 3am and 5am.

Waking up this morning (Wednesday July 17th), I instantly felt a lot better than I had last night. Admittedly, I had a bit more of a sleep in than I generally would've - it was great. I use the term 'sleep in' lightly though - it's nothing like a sleep in at home! What was the plan of attack for today? Well to be honest I wasn't too sure. A doctor yesterday mentioned briefly about a bone marrow test however the nurses and doctors on had no idea about one and couldn't see one booked in. I hadn't eaten since the night prior however the nurses got me to fast once again whilst they investigated. As a result, breakfast was staring me right in the face and I couldn't even touch my beloved weetbix, milk and sugar!

The clock ticks over to 10:37 and a Young, lanky doctor comes by. "Hi Justin, I'm Alex and I'll be doing your bone marrow procedure today..." Alex went on to explain the procedure, risks and what to expect. As he finished and started to walk away I had one last burning question. "When are we doing it? Later this afternoon?" "Now" Alex replied.

Woah. Wait. What? Hang on two seconds. I'm not prepared for this. You mean now...as in like, once Alex had finished preparing? You betcha....

Now I was under the assumption I'd be getting knocked out as I had done the night before however Alex proceeded to explain they'll put some medication in my cannula that "makes you feel like you've had four or five beers" as well as some local anaesthetic. No point being worried or scared about it - if it's getting done bedside, it couldn't be near as bad as the lumbar puncture, right? Once again, like I have been for the past few weeks I was completely and utterly wrong.

First though, what's this procedure involve? Basically, blood, white blood cells and platelets are produced in your bone marrow. This can be accessed via key areas of your body depending on your age...for me it was my hipbone - left side to be exact. The aim of the procedure is to get these fresh samples of blood, white blood cells and platelets as well as get a sample of my bone marrow - generally one small sample of the bone.

Alex got me curled up in the fetal position, lying on my right and basically began straight away. A few local anaesthetic needles numbed the surface before he inserted a needle in to collect the blood samples. This part was similar to a lumbar puncture, but I couldn't feel as much internally.

Alex then stated he was starting the bone marrow collection, which was without fail the worst part of this whole experience so far. He used the large needle with a blue handle, which can be seen below.

Alex hit the bone and advised me the next part was only going to tickle a little bit. What's he do? He starts to screw into my bone. Whilst I couldn't see, it felt very similar to uncorking a bottle of wine. Whilst he went in no deeper than 1mm, christ it hurt. The worst part was yet to come. Much like the pressure behind uncorking a bottle of wine, this happened too. Alex yanked the sample out and the pressure and pain was immense! Done. It's all done. Thank goodness. Then Alex said the words I didn't want to hear next. "Y'know what Justin? We want to make sure we only have to do this once, so let's get another sample, eh?"

Oh my lord. Are you kidding me? Whatever. Lets do it. I want to get it over and done with. I don't even think I replied, just mumbled something along the lines of whatever. And thus, the process happens again. I've attached photos of the two samples below, which I thought were pretty cool!

I must admit, Alex was incredible during the procedure. I asked at the start to keep me informed throughout the whole process. I'm quite an inquisitive character when things are happening that I don't know what the process is and this was no different. Alex not only kept me informed, he did as much as he could to keep me as comfortable as I could be during such a procedure. One thing I was incredibly surprised at was how much blood was on his hands!

Not much happened throughout the rest of today to be honest. Courtney, dad and mum came to visit but that was it. The doctors advised they are expecting the result of the biopsy tomorrow afternoon (hopefully) however they said it could take anywhere up to 72 hours from the procedure - which puts it at Friday night or Monday. Where does that put me? Same boat as I have been throughout this entire process - just waiting for answers.

I was advised that the results could come back either negative or inconclusive. Whilst this wouldn't be ideal, it's unfortunately just going to be another roadblock in this venture. In preparation the results don't come back the way we probably expect the, too, I'm booked in for an ultrasound of my gall bladder tomorrow. That will be their next avenue to answers. I suspect this is because my PET scan showed up significant areas in my gall bladder and I suppose that's not exactly a vital cog of the human body...so I suspect they'll just remove it, cut it open and see what's inside. But that's nowhere near a medical analysis of what's going to happen.

Before I finish for tonight, I'll leave you with how I am mentally. How am I going despite all this? Y'know what? I'm actually the opposite to what you probably think I am. I'm in the best mental state I have been over the past six weeks. Why? I think it's because we're close to (hopefully) getting an answer or at least following a more solid path to answers.

I end tonight with a final thank you. Thank you for all the messages and endless love. It's helping - trust me, it is.

Juzz xx

[fanders-art]

Better - chapter 1

Summary: Elle is a depressed 25 year old who doesn't see the hope and kindness on store for herself. This is the story on recovery

Trigger warnings: suicidal ideation, pessimistic thinking/negative self talk, depression (tell me if there's more please !)

Note- this is my first ever story, it might not be good but bear with me, i may know what im talking about, I know how depression feels. I wrote this to show theres always hope. You can get better and feel better even when it's hard and it is a constant fight. Without further ado, THE STORY!~

_______________________________

"Anyways Elle, I have to go to my next class now so I'll call you later, bye"

My little sister, Anna, says sounding dissapointed, and hangs up the phone; I start wondering if she got bored with me and ended the call, or maybe she really didn't want to go to class. I sigh and turn over in my bed.

I had just woken up before the call, my body feeling like lead and my spirits were low, as if they were mourning the hole on my heart that yearned for comforting words, for happiness. Longing for love, fulfillment and support. Something to hold it all together. It's been there for quite some time now. I shake my head at the thought.

Go wash the dishes you useless adult.

I would, if my body didnt feel so heavy that it hurts.

I would if I had any reason to

Any motivation.

But there's none so what's the point?

I go to sleep again

___________________________________

I wake up in my room feeling lighter than yesterday, but not completely light. I look at the date on my phone, it's Wednesday, 5:00pm. My eyes go wide, but my mouth forms a thin line. I slept through 2 days straight and I have to go to work. I jump from my bed. Once i get ready I grab my stuff from the table and run out the door.

The customers are rude again. I'm not surprised anymore, I call my manager and continue the sad routine of working in retail.

________________________

It was normal day, long, but still normal. I was cooking pasta for dinner, something simple that i didn't need energy for.

Nothing significant happenned today, but i still find myself In my kitchen, tears dripping from my eyes, one by one, and sobs wrecking body, making me tremble. I was swaying back and forth, barely focusing on my pasta as my thoughts started consuming me.

You're useless. Absolutely pathetic. Nothing even happened and you're crying? Man, that's weak.

"Stop it, please" I cover my ears, more tears falling to the ground. The silence is deafening. The thoughts get louder.

How long have you been feeling this way? Years. Admit it, You're broken! We could make a list of all the rea-

"SHUT UP, DAMN IT!" I say to my own head. The tears are falling more quickly now, my sight becomes more of a blur. I'm used to it now; as I wipe some of my tears from my face I head to the bathroom.

I look at the mirror, letting the water run through my hands. My hair is up in a messy bun. My face swollen and red from all the crying, with tear tracks all over.

I lean down and wash my face.

_________________________________

After I'm done preparing the pasta, I serve a small amount and store the rest inside the fridge.

Staring at my food, I start poking at it with my fork.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

I start eating.

After I finish, I figure I should wash the dishes while I'm still feeling productive.

________________________

I leave work early today. My manager told me I was very unfocused and Spacey today and I kept making the same mistakes without noticing. More customers left, being angry at me and disrespectful to everybody else.

At my other job, one of my coworkers told me I seemed down. I barely recall them saying

"Hey Elle, take it easy. You're hanging your head and dragging your feet. Have you been sleeping okay? It's been at least three weeks since I saw you speaking to someone, let alone smiling."

I shake them off saying I was just stressed, but a couple of hours later my little sister told me I should see a psychiatrist. That I deserved better. I only listened to the first half, couldn't bring myself to believe the other.

______

"And, that's how I ended up here talking with you, Mr. Cardoso."

I am sitting in a chair on a small office. Taking a brief look around the room, i notice there's and organized desk looking toward one of the walls, the chair at it s left. Behind it, on the opposite side, there were some cabinets displaying toys. I figure they're for the children that come to see him.

I turn to look at the man sitting at the desk as he talks to me.

"So what youre saying is, you have an idea of why these people told you to come here, but don't completely agree with it?"

I nod.

"I'm going to have you fill out a couple of papers to give you a proper diagnosis," he hands me a couple of papers and a pen. "Do tell me when you're finished or have any questions."

I look at the questions in front of me, laid out with the questions of the left and, on the right side, the words: never, a few times, sometimes, often and always. I begin answering the questions.

The questions below ask about anxiety and worrying.

In the last 6 months, have you experienced any of the following symptoms? If so, how often?

I felt that my worry was out of my control- often

I felt restless, agitated, frantic, or tense.- always

I had trouble sleeping - I could not fall or stay asleep, and/or didn't feel well-rested when I woke up.- always

I felt sick to my stomach, like I was going to throw up, or had diarrhea - sometimes

I felt dizzy, my head was spinning, or felt like I was going to faint - a few times

 I was scared that I would lose control, go crazy, or die. -always

In the next set of questions, we will be asking whether you experienced a traumatic event, and how you reacted to it.

How did you experience the traumatic event?

Directly - I was a victim of a traumatic event.

 I witnessed it in person (happening to someone else).

I learned about it happening to a close family member or friend.

I was exposed to it as a result of my job (e.g. paramedic, police officer, fire fighter etc.).

In all of these I notice I don't remember much of my past. I write an 'I don't know' on the side.

I was unable to feel happiness, contentment, joy, or love, or had trouble connecting with people.- agree

There were questions about my mood, emotions, behavior. Even some about drugs, a big no from me.

I finished the questions.

We moved on.

________________________

When I get home I reflect on the appointment I had with the psychiatrist, Mr. Cardoso.

He said he would prefer if I saw a therapist at least once or twice a week, since I had nothing to lose, except for, well, pride, the walls you'd built, and time you could be working, you know, the usual, I said yes.

I look at the cellphone that's on my hands. After a few minutes, I dial the number to the psychiatric hospital. I hear the voice on the other line start spaeking.

"Hello, you have reached wellhealth hospital. How may I help you today?"

"Um" I hesitate. "Hello, I'd like to file an appointment with a therapist?"

"Do you have an insurance? Please give me your full name."

"I just applied for one and got the card. My full name is Elle Cook"

"Alright then. Would you prefer to come on next Monday at 10:30am or Wednesday 5:00pm?" The secretary said in a bored yet polite manner.

"Monday. 10 am. Who is the appointment with?"

"Your appointment is with Ms. Laura. Please come early to fill the necessary documents and show proof of your insurance."

"Will do. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day." After I hear their answer I hang up.

Sighing, I move from my comfy couch to my bathroom. I don't have enough energy for a skin care routine, so I just was my face and teeth, then change into my panda onesie and head to bed.

__________________________________

Special thanks for @thelogicalloganipus @fangirltothefullest @sanders-trash-4ever @pornhubsvt And @asofterfan for helping me with this chapter/giving me feedback!!

Don't know when the next update will be

You are here | Chapter 2

#tw: depression #tw: suicidal ideation #story #my writing #first time #first story #not ts related #not ts #not sanders sides #first person narrative

[hitchcock-eastern-hemisphere]

Tuesday 9.21.21

I feel like it's been a week since I got here. I've walked probably 20 miles in the last three days. Let's see where to start.

Sunday morning I went to Costa's for coffee and breakfast, apparently it's a big coffee chain here. Around lunch time, I went to meet a friend K (I will shorten all names for confidentiality) from my cohort on LSE campus. I'd never been on it before!

We immediately left and walked across the bridge to Southwark (pronounced Suthark, apparently). It was drizzling and everything was pretty grey, it felt pretty enchanting in a dreary London kind of way. The whole south bank of the river around there is super built up, it feels like the Yards or the Wharf in DC near where I'm from.

We eventually ended up at Ristorante Olivelli for lunch, we both really felt like having pasta for some reason. It was a cute restaurant. We meandered around Vauxhall and then crossed the river again toward Pimlico, and we walked by Big Ben (I hope my gold production is now increased by 25% [hah, Civ 5 reference]) and Westminster Abbey. Big Ben was mostly blocked by scaffolding. Eventually, I split off and took the train back up to Tufnell Park. For dinner, I ate granola out of a whisky tumbler with a fork, so that's the type of life I'm pursuing now.

On Monday, I went to meet my friend N from the cohort at LSE campus. He had literally just arrived from NYC, and couldn't check into his hotel until later. We walked around LSE campus a bit more, and both bought some LSE clothing/etc at the school store. It's funny, a lot of the buildings are quite modern, but the way they're all tucked in together, it still feels kind of like a medieval street. Lots of cobblestone-ish roads, no real quad like I'm so used to at UChicago or Columbia (though I only spent a couple months at the latter, and I always found that campus to be not terribly welcoming).

I wanted to go to the bookstore Hatchards in Picadilly, which I thought would be a 15 minute walk. Instead, I dragged my friend on a like 40-minute march (keep in mind, this man just got off a red-eye flight to a country five timezones away from home). We made it, and I bought two books that looked related to my dissertation subject.

We were supposed to do a lot of work on that this summer and I did none, because I needed a five month break from that truly exhausting nine-month slog of virtual class and quarantine isolation. Anyway, we chilled at a Caffe Nero nearby for a while, then I left and bought a tennis racket+balls and a basketball at Lillywhites nearby. Yesterday afternoon, I bought some plants. I'll be filling my apartment with as many as possible while I'm here. Pictures soon.

Yesterday evening, I wanted to try this Ethiopiean restaurant Lalibela on Fortress Rd nearby, but I stood outside for like 20 minutes after their supposed opening time of 6, and they never flipped the closed sign to open. I also realized I was slightly under-dressed wearing only a tank top and shorts. So I walked across the street and ordered from Blue Moon Thai instead. While I was waiting, I went over to Sainsburys to buy a few things, and I think the security guard thought I was a suspicious loiterer because he followed me around most of the time I was in there.

I forget what else I did yesterday, but I went to sleep at 10-ish and actually slept through the whole night!! Which is a big deal, because the first night I woke up at 1 am and fell asleep again like an hour later. And then Monday night I woke up at 2ish and proceeded to text one of my friend, L, until like 3:45 am.

This morning, I walked over to Rustique Cafe, on Fortress Rd right near all the other things on Fortress Rd that I talk about. Inside, they have a bunch of bookshelves and all the books are for sale. And you can walk out the back and sit in a wonderful garden they have.

I also saw a cute cat walking around outside my building.

I got a cappuccino (UK cappuccinos always seem to be like 12-16oz, a traditional capp is supposed to be 8 lmao). Also, it has just become apparent to me that tumblr or Firefox spell-check does not recognize cappuccino as a word. It's 2021, boys.

Today, I might my friend K came up to Tufnell park because she was thinking about trying to get a room in my building. We walked to Workman's Cafe (where I went the first day I was here) and got lunch, which was cute. I like the vibe. When we were paying at the counter, I asked the guy if I could tip them and he stared at me for like 10 seconds. Apparently, tipping isn't really a thing here. Also, I'd been wanting to get a picture of the train tracks from the bridge near my apartment for a few days. Got it today. It makes me think of Persona.

We then walked all the way down Fortress Rd, which eventually becomes Kentish Town Road, to Camden. My best description of Camden is that it's basically like the Greenwich Village of London, with some Times Square elements on a couple blocks. Parts of it were really cool, other parts were cheapo London/Britain knick-knacks shops that looked like they belonged in wherever the equivalent of Midtown NYC is in London. We walked by this cool lock on the way.

We went to an anime store!!! that she found called Japan Craft. Manga shelves took up like half the store, and they had some posters, t-shirts, and figurines as well. And for some reason, some Harry Potter merchandise? Anyway, I didn't buy anything, but that's probably the best manga selection I've ever seen short of Kinokuni-ya in NYC, so I want to go back. And somehow, I forgot to take any pictures.

Afterwards, we walked over to this Italian Cafe to get coffee, and instead got a Rosé (K) and Peroni (me). I also had a Portuguese custard pastry. I'm too tired to remember the name of this cafe, but it was cute. We toured another apartment she's looking at near there, then I walked all the way back up to my apartment.

And immediately got changed and got on the tube back down south to LSE campus again, to meet my friend C who flew in yesterday! After a brief tour of LSE campus, I led her too on a long and partly unguided walk through Picadilly and Soho, and we eventually landed at Kissaten bubble tea shop right near Chinatown. I definitely got us lost because I wasn't looking at the map, which she was not thrilled about lol. The bubble tea was good and there were so many super flashily dressed people there. But they only had caffeinated options which is why I'm now up at 12:40 writing this, oops.

We also walked by a pub called Duke of Argyll, which is where the Scottish part of my family is from.

Afterward, we walked through Chinatown, which was absolutely enchanting. My friend C is from Shanghai, and I really like food from places all over China, so we were both excited.

We ended up sitting outside at See Woo, a dim-sum restaurant that had mapo tofu, which I name as my favorite food in the world. That's also one of the first things she and I ever talked about when we were becoming friends. We both want to learn Cantonese and she suggested we take it together.

I took the train up and got home a bit after 9. I continued my multiplayer Terraria game with my stepbrother H for a couple hours, and now I'm here. And I think I might finally be ready to go to sleep.

[existentialstatesofmind]

Opening Up

Clare: couldn’t imagine living with so many people. Sure she got lonely because her parents were too busy fighting to pay as much attention to her as they used to. But she didn’t wish she had more siblings. She just wanted Darcy to come home so she wouldn’t have to go through ‘the divorce’ alone. She smiled at Kota. He was here for her and that’s all she needed from him. Clare always felt a little better when she got these things off her chest. Of course it was really her family who needed to hear her out. All she could do was keep trying. “You’ve got it. Oh god, can you imagine? Ten years from now.” She chuckled. “You want to belong there. Be apart of everything. As long as you’re happy, I wouldn’t want you to leave anyway. I’d miss you at school.” She kissed his cheek. “It probably is. I don’t think most people trust their kids to watch each other. Or use the stove.” Clare nodded. She wasn’t sure if Darcy had an extended visa or what. Traveling overseas was completely new to her. Clare would be using an (expedited) passport for the first time on this trip. She tried not to think about the long flight and all the security checkpoints they’d have to go through because it made her nervous. “So teenagers in Japan have a lot more responsibility. Maybe freedom too?” Clare concluded. “I’m looking forward to that part myself.” They’d still have adults to answer to but no one was going to come up with as many crazy rules as her mom. “Yeah. I know. Hopefully we won’t spend the whole semester feeling lost.” She shrugged. “Fine with me. I don’t want to make enemies. I’ll also wear a press pass around my neck so they’re less likely to get the wrong idea. I kinda know why Yohio has fans but what’s the deal with Yamanishi?” She asked curiously. Clare didn’t want to be out of the loop. If his fan girls were going to be jealous of her just for talking to him she should know why. “Marilyn was so talented! It's such a shame people forget what she was famous for in the first place, acting. I love classic movies.” Clare gushed, pleased she’d had at least one thing in common with Makayla. “Of course I’m more of a Audrey Hepburn type.” She admitted, laughing at the idea of anyone comparing her to Marilyn Monroe. “At ten, I think my main hobby was playing barbies. Well besides reading.” Which was why it was hard to think of anything else to ask. She’d changed so much and Makayla would’ve too. Clare bit her lip. “No it’s not fun to be sick.” She muttered. Her whole face lit up and she returned the kiss. “I love you too. That’s the first time we said the words to each other you know. I never said them to a boy before.” She whispered leaning back against Kota and entwining her fingers with his. She was a lot more comfortable sitting on Kota’s lap now than she’d been at first. “I don’t know much longer we should stay.” Clare added nodding towards Jill.

Kota: smiled when Clare kissed his cheek. "I'd miss you too." he spoke. "In Japan most girls are taught to cook young, though some refuse and learn later. Those that cook young are mainly the ones that babysit young. If your family has a restaurant or cafe in Japan it's run by the family from ages 6 and up, though they have small jobs and choose what they want to do. If you start to get bad grades while holding a job, you're forced to quit. As for freedom, students are only able to work Saturday after school, all day Sunday, and days they're off school such as winter vacation. They only get more freedom if they don't have a job. Which reminds me we'll be ahead of everyone when we get back." he explained and listened to her when she mentioned getting lost. "You won't. I know the halls there having wondered around them before looking for Yohio when I was there last summer." he explained. "Well it was our summer.." he trailed off. "Crap, I keep calling us third years when we'll only be second years in Japan. Their High School life is only three years grades 10-12. I'll have two managers in Kendo Club this year since the new manager will be leaving second semester next year." he explained to her. "Also in Japan you don't eat in the cafeteria, you eat in your homeroom unless you're me and I eat on the roof and the entire school goes to lunch at the same time which is 1pm. On Mondays we have no after noon classes because we have an hour long homeroom rather than a five minute homeroom. And our classes change in March based on how you did on your midterm, I'm going to take the midterm, but for you it's optional and you have a class with Eli, Alli, and everyone since I'm going to World History, you will also have music with them while I go to calligraphy." he added and chuckled when she mentioned wearing a press pass. "Sorry, but they won't know what that is. There are no school papers in Japan and suggesting one is futile because the clubs are only an hour long and third years leave their clubs in the first or second week of the school year." he said honestly. "Yamamishi has a fan club strictly because he's the school president. School presidents are determined by entrance exams, the student that has the highest school upon entering is made the school president which is the highest honor in school. He has no club activities other than student council, he has the final decision on what's happening in Cultural Festival and Sports Festival, as well as the same duties school presidents have here only if Yamamishi's grades drop he loses the title and the vice president takes over." he said and rubbed the back of his head. "I was told I also have a fan club in Japan by a friend, though my fan club isn't as bad as Yohio's. Said friend already told everyone I have a girlfriend so once I enter the school gates with you and let everyone know you're my girlfriend, girls will leave you alone simply because I'll know if they do something and if anyone in the fan club upsets me, the whole club turns against them. It's like that with all fan clubs in schools." he let out knowing he had to tell her before she found out from someone else. "Audrey was Makayla's second favorite." he chuckled. "I can't tell you if she played Barbies or not because I never saw them. If she did she hid them really well when I came over." he shrugged and listened to Clare. The moment she mentioned it was their first time exchanging I love you's he covered his face with his hands so Clare couldn't see him blush. "I'm happy I said that and that you love me back, but I wasn't thinking when I said it." he exclaimed as he kept his hands over his face. "You're the first girl I said those words to as well." he nodded as he kept his hands over his face for a few more moments when Clare mentioned Jill. "We can leave if you want." he said and Jill looked at him. "Can you sing my favorite part of Bombs on Monday?" she asked softly and Kota moved Clare so she was in between his legs and his arms were wrapped around her middle. "That's too depressing plus I don't want it to hit too close to home for Clare so I'll sing a different part." he assured and pulled Clare closer to him. "Eyes like hazel twinkle in the starlight even when they're crying even when they're crying. Constellations forming out of scar lines even when they're dying love will still be trying." he sang and hummed the tune to help her sleep. "Ready to go?" he asked.

#ou

[justinsdaysinthedark]

Post # 6 - It is what it is

I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent the past half an hour with tears flowing from my eyes staring at a blank screen wondering how I'm going to get everything I've got floating in my head out. I suppose listening to Coldplay live in Argentina probably wasn't the best choice of music to set the mood. I'll work on that one in the future...

Where do I start? It's been a question I'm often asking myself at the start of these blog posts and it's certainly not the easiest one. What do you guys know? There's been so much happen since my last post on Thursday night.

Friday July 26th: I saw my doctors around lunchtime who came in quite concerned. Whilst they were confident my lymphoma was one called DLBCL (Diffuse Large B- Cell Lymphoma), some tests had come back with suspect results that it could be a more aggressive and harsh type of lymphoma called Burkitt's lymphoma and if confirmed, chemo was starting that night with no time to waste. There was also one marked in the middle (a cross of the two) called Burkitt's Like Lymphoma which is treated similarly to DLBCL. Whatever it was, I couldn't change it. I just wanted answers and if treatment needed to start, let's get it underway!

Adam, my incredible haematology doctor sent off another test of my gall bladder to finally get the confirmation I was after. It was urgent. He had to know. It was reassuring of Adam to state "Justin, we need to know what this is. Preliminary results are due back later this afternoon and that will hopefully rule out Burkitt's. if it is Burkitt's, we'll start chemo tonight and I'll be with you every step of the way - even if I have to stay back a few hours."

I know doctors earn a fair coin on a lazy day, but how many give you that much confidence that you and your health is important to them? I'm going to have it a guess and say not many but alas, I am so incredibly lucky with the team of doctors I have.

4:00pm and Adam strolls in the door heading straight for my room. My heart drops, similarly to what it had when Michael dropped the news I had lymphoma. "Good news. Preliminary results are back and we're confident it's not Burkitt's. You can't rule out anything in life, so there still is a small chance it could be. We're happy to wait for the final results on Monday, figure out a treatment plan from there and start Chemotherapy next week. Spend Saturday and Sunday on day leave and I'll see you next week."

This was news to my ears. In a time of what has been negative or no news, I could spend the weekend with family relatively freely and forget everything was happening for a few hours each day. My Uncle Bob and Aunty Denise were down from Tasmania to see me, as was my Aunty AJ and cousins from Bairnsdale so it all felt like it fit into place.

Friday night saw me considerably more relaxed with this news...that was until Collingwood started and it was the demolition it was. Slightly humorous side note, the nurse came in around 9pm for my nightly observations. Naturally, my heart rate was up a bit more than normal watching the football (118BPM - normally between 70-85BPM). This caused the nurse to call in the team of doctors who wanted to put me on an ECG machine for the night and monitor my heart. I assured them it was because Collingwood were on and if they gave me an hour, I'd be okay. It took some convincing, but it finally worked. Back they came an hour later and it had gone down - crisis averted.

Saturday afternoon and evening was wonderful. I went down to dads for dinner and was fortunate enough to spend some much needed time with family over a beautiful dinner and good laugh.

Sunday was much the same. I went home, mum did a fair chunk of washing for me as I spent it being me. Seeing Courtney, napping in my own bed and even headed over to Fountain Gate and got some much needed new clothes and other miscellaneous items - something that seems so simple but is such a luxury when you've spent the past 15 days in hospital.

Monday July 29th: They say the more you think positively, the more positive news you shall receive....or it goes something like that right? I woke up this morning the most upbeat and best I'd felt in weeks. I felt fine. I felt no pain, almost like I'd woken up from a shitty hotel! In all honesty, I felt like I'm abusing the system however I keep being quickly reminded how much I need to be here. Did I wake up so positive because I lived my old life for 16 hours over the weekend? Is it because I was hoping to hear a reasonably positive outcome with this lymphoma test? Probably a mix of both if I'm honest. But whatever it was, I was hopeful.

Adam came around at roughly 10:00am. Didn't really have much for me in terms of news but more of an outline of the day. If they hear the results of the test they were waiting on, they'd write me up a treatment plan ASAP and get chemo started this afternoon. At worst, I'd be starting it tomorrow (Tuesday). They just needed that definitive answer of what type of lymphoma I have - an answer I'd love more than anybody.

Either way, we agreed i'd need a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line in which basically is a long-term cannula. It runs from the inside of my arm right up and around and stops basically just outside my heart. This is for easy access for the chemotherapy and even an easy exit for blood tests - something that's proven incredibly difficult to take from me over the past few days. Additionally, these lines can last up to six months verses the three days you get from a cannula. There were too many positives to say no to!

This wasn't scheduled for any time in particular, so 1:00pm came around and I was about to be taken to get the PICC line in.

Just as I was about to leave, Adam came in with a few words I'm all too familiar with. "Well, the pathology tests we were waiting on have come back inconclusive..."

Woah. Wait. What? How do tests of my gall bladder that was removed six days ago come back inconclusive? How does one of the main sources not have enough 'data' to tell them what sort of lymphoma I have? I was just stunned.

Adam continued "As a result, we can see some signs of Burkitt's lymphoma and that's what we're going to treat you for. You're young. You should be able to handle it and it's better to over treat you than under treat and be stuck where we are at the moment. It's an intense 16-day chemo treatment that will totally wipe out your red and white blood cells as well as your platelets. We foresee you being in here for another 3-5 weeks, depending on how well your body goes getting these levels back up to normal post this first treatment..."

I honestly say this but that's all I remember from this conversation. I was hoping I'd be heading home this week but looks like that definitely won't be happening. Today marks day 40 of the past 55 days in hospital (day 15 of this stint) and if I go off the longest suggested time expected, I have another 35 days to go. That honestly crushed me.

I got taken down to get my PICC line in - quite an easy process. Very similar to putting in a larger cannula, just a whole lot longer and uses local anaesthetic as well as being guided by an ultrasound and X-ray. I'm lucky enough to have two ports, which will hopefully speed up some of my medication and how much they can pump in. Does it feel weird? The only weird part was feeling it slide down past and near my heart - but that's okay now!

By the time I return, dad made his was in to try and help process the news. We get Adam in to once again explain the process. In layman's terms, I'll be starting an intense and high-dose 16-day chemotherapy program kicking off tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. Most of the time across the next 16 days, I'll be hooked up via IV drip getting whatever medication is required. I think I saw I have rest days on days 7 & 8 which I suppose will give me two days to look forward to. At the end of the day, it's something I'm not certain on and will be a day by day process and constant learning about what's going into my body to help fight with me.

I do have one request for you all. With my body not producing red or white blood cells or platelets over the next few weeks, I do request if you are planning to visit however are sick to stay away those extra few days. With my immune system going to be at the lowest it's been, I don't particularly want to pick up something I don't need. Additionally, as much as I'd love flowers, they're also banned due to the infection risk of the spores mixing with the chemotherapy and causing some dangerous damage from the inside.

At the end of the day, if you're not sure please message me and check as I'm not entirely sure myself about everything. I'm constantly learning as I'm going.

How am I feeling? I'm nervous. I'm nervous at the unknown. How will this affect me? How bad am I going to feel? Will I lose my hair? What will my energy levels be like? In advance, I do apologise if over the next few weeks I'm not myself. Truth be told, that's because I probably won't be.

In a way, i'm finally excited to start my treatment first thing tomorrow morning (after yet ANOTHER lumbar puncture). I was so envious of both people next to me getting their first rounds of chemo today. I know mine will be intense but I just can't wait.

I've learnt so much about cancer and chemotherapy over the past four days and I know there's so much more to learn. Today I learnt I'll be incredibly highly cytotoxic, which basically means all needles and anything used on me need to go in a separate bin just for me. Additionally, I'll have to get used to the good old double flush after the toilet to ensure all waste is disposed of. Mouth ulcers are a big issue with most chemo patients as well. I'll have to start brushing my teeth after every meal and taking a special mouthwash 3x daily to assist with keeping these under control. There's plenty of other little things, but they're two I least expected.

Everything really hit me last night....not like it did tonight though. I just had twenty minutes to reflect and it just became a sudden realisation. What I'm going through is real. It's not a 'joke' anymore. It's not something they're looking at as a potential cause. It is the cause. I have a legitimate medical issue and it's finally time to fight lymphoma. All well and good to be talking the talk like I have been - it's now time to walk the walk. This sits well with me. If I give somebody my word, I do whatever I can to get it achieved. Unfortunately for the lymphoma throughout my body I've given it my word and it's time to fight it. Round one begins tomorrow morning.

I leave tonight feeling a whole lot better than I did when I started tonight's post. I didn't learn from my words earlier as Coldplay live from Argentina is still playing however I'm in a much more comfortable mind space.

My best friend of a lazy 20 years, Dylan visited tonight with his partner, Jacqui. One phrase popped up more than most and they made me aware it was a common phrase coming out of my mouth.

"It is what it is."

I can't control what's happened to me as "it is what it is." What I can control from here though is how I fight lymphoma. Thanks for the visit tonight guys, I appreciated the two hours spent here in what's been an incredibly tough afternoon.

Much love.

Juzz xx