#why the fuck did they make me skip a grade (last grade of primary on top of that) when i was notorious for never doing my homework

[anaalnathrakhs]

...i'm starting to wonder if i wasn't actually pretty often failed by the adults in my life as a young kid tbh.

#i'm always doubtful where to put the blame #in a morally neutral causality kind of way to be clear #because like. i dont know. if i was the adult. confronted to the opaque behavior of a child. would i have done better? #but also i can't help but think #why the fuck did they make me skip a grade (last grade of primary on top of that) when i was notorious for never doing my homework #and was incredibly inconsistent across topics #like i sucked at math. like ''needs to count on fingers to do a simple addition or substraction'' sucking at math. #like i never learned any multiplication tables sucking at math #like i never got how to pose divisions and still can't at age 18 because logicomathematics are completely counterintuitive to me #and just. the work was never done to make me Get It. my work or teachers' work who knows. but perhaps skipping a grade wasnt the solution #or like #apparently when i was three years old the pediatrician suspected smth was up with me #either autism directly or ''generally suspicious child'' we're not clear on that #but he told my parents. and everybody said ''we better test that'' and then. nothing. idk. #they filled a parental report of behaviors questionnaire for... adhd i think? autism maybe. and that's it. never fucking heard about it. #god. i just remembered my mom saying proudly they almost never put me in the nursery as a kid. #always either with a parent or family or a nanny. #and perhaps mother. you could have foreseen that a kid with no siblings no pets no kid neighbors no playdates. would end up socially fucked #i remember the teachers scolding late students and showing us that we were supposed to be in bed by 9:30 or something #and internally i was like BUDDY AT 9PM WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH DINNER #MOM'S BEEN HOME FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR #and shit. i don't know. i was scared of the dark as a child. to the point that even with the compromise #of keeping the door ajar and lights in the hallway (which i had to fucking advocate for btw) #i still slept curled up in the bathroom on a towel sometimes when it got too scary #and i would cry and scream before going to bed. i would beg my mom for sleeping pills from a young age. #i would often find myself in the morning sleeping with my face smushed between the pages of the book i literally fell asleep on #because i read until my eyes gave out #and a couple years later when i got a 3ds i'd play at night and if my dad caught me he'd storm into my room and i'd hide under the comforte #and he'd punch a couple times and whisper-yell at me not to do that and go to sleep #it took until i was about 15yo for me to see a sleep specialist

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #357

“your magic white rabbit has left its writing on the wall  /  we follow like alice, and just keep diving down the hole”

Are you better at telling stories or writing them? Writing, by a long shot. What’s one song you hate, but know every word to? i'm a barbie girl in a fckn barbie woooooorld What’s your favorite magazine? I don’t read magazines. If you could be an animal for one day, which animal would you choose? Probably a house cat. Be indoors and safe, able to just nap... lol. But I'd want another cat as a friend, too! Do you prefer outdoor or indoor concerts/events? Indoors, by a mile. I get hot outside way too easily. Do you know if you were a planned child? I don't know. What’s your favorite gem? Dragon's breath opal. As an adult, do you want to live in an apartment or a house? I'd like to live in a house, especially with the pets I want. I doubt many apartment complexes would allow multiple reptiles and inverts. Do you like the stem or leafy part of the broccoli? It doesn't matter much to me, but I prefer the stem. The texture is more likeable to me. Do bats frighten you? No, I adore bats! Does Paris appeal to you? Yeah, it's a pretty place. Are you a KPOP fan? No, I've never really checked it out. How long was your longest relationship? Over three and a half years. First time you kissed the last person you kissed? We were outside roasting marshmallows one night. Do you have to really know someone to kiss them? Absolutely. I don't dish 'em out for nothing. Were you anyone’s first kiss? No. If you had to be named after one of the 50 states of America, what state would you WANT to be named after? I actually think "Nevada" would be kinda pretty as a name? Do you think morals are universal or relative to the beliefs, traditions, or practices of individuals or groups? I've wondered this for a long while, really. I lean towards it being a mix, maybe? But more towards universal, I think... with some exceptions. This answer is all over the place, I honestly don't know. Is torture ever a good option? If no, why not? If yes, when? No? I think the "why not" is obvious... You just don't. What do you think is one one of the most undervalued professions right now? Teachers, garbagemen, retail and food workers... There's a lot. Have you ever seen anyone have a heart attack? Thank Christ no. Have you personalized your answering machine/voicemail? No. Have you ever had Fiji brand water? I actually don't believe I have, though it's always looked appealing to me, haha. What’s your favorite horror movie? The Crazies and the first Silent Hill, as well as both Blair Witch Projects. What was the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? I'd rather not even think about things the bitch said to me. Are you biracial? No. When was the last time you got mad and broke something? I've never broken something when mad. What color dress did you wear to prom? My first was maroon, second one was black. Who is the cutest baby you know? My friend has a daughter named Scarlett who is absolutely gorgeous. Have you ever thrown a rock at a window? No, because I respect people's fucking property. Has anyone ever thrown a rock at your window? No. Does your hair react well to dye, or does it damage it? It likes to not take dye at all. >.> I have only had one instance where a friend dyed it red and it stuck for months and months, but we kept it in for a couple hours, I think. My normal hairdresser says it's because my hair is really healthy and I guess rejects it. What kind of pet do you wish you had? I ramble plenty about how I want tarantulas and more reptiles, haha. I also DESPERATELY want to rescue or foster an opossum. When was the last time you were diagnosed with something? Are you concerned about anything regarding your physical or mental health at the moment? I haven't been diagnosed with anything in quite some time, I believe, but as I'm going through the process of being approved for TMS therapy for my depression, my bipolar diagnosis is being questioned, which is... strange to me. It's been acknowledged by many a doctor that I have bipolar 2, but if insurance recognizes my primary diagnosis as bipolar, they won't cover TMS because it can massively excite the mania portion of bipolarity, and therefore I can't do it because we can't manually afford it. I'm willing to take the risk by far, as I've never had issues with mania, but I can't without insurance. I'm just waiting to hear back from them... What is one blanket judgment you tend to make about people (like, you judge all people who live at home, all people who drink, etc)? Does this judgment come from a particular personal experience? I really don't know. How do you react to other people yelling or slamming doors? Is this something you ever do too? I get very scared if it's a man. I don't like anyone doing it, and my anxiety will spike regardless, I'm just terrified of angry men. Have you ever lost your cool at work or somewhere else important? What happened as a result? No. Who has the power to break you? Jason still might. I don't know. Is anyone in your family blind? My sister is legally blind in one eye. Do you believe in evolution? Yeah. I do find the concept odd, that ALL LIFE originated from one thing, but I sure ain't got a better explanation, so. What job do you think people should be paid the most for? Surgeons, maybe? I dunno, that's a big question. Were you ever held back a year in school? Did you ever skip a grade? No. Have you ever been given a hickey? Have you given one? Yeah to both. What is your least favourite thing about your full name? I have the most basic white bitch middle name in the world, lol. Do you like the age you are? Eh, I don't mind it much, but I think it'd be better to be in my early 20s versus mid 20s. I'm just always so tired now. I can't believe I used to refuse to go to sleep before 10:30. What’s your favourite kind of poptart? The chocolate sundae one. If you had to eat one type (Chinese, etc.) of food which would it be? American bc I'm not very adventurous with food at all. When did your family immigrate to wherever you live now? *shrug* Are your fingers long, or short? Long. Mom's always said I have "piano fingers." Do you play Pokemon Go? If so, what level are you and who’s your buddy? Yeah, I love it, but don't play it nearly as much as I want because I don't exactly go anywhere, lol. My bud's Charmeleon, and I'm probably like five EXP from level 28. Do you ever sit indoors and wear sunglasses or a hat? I don't own either, so. Do you know how to read animals’ behavior? I honestly think I'm very good at it. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? Yes, but not as much as I used to. All I really play nowadays is World of Warcraft. The only working console I have is a PS2, and I haven't bought a new game in probably a couple years, but there are definitely ones I want to play, mainly on PS4. Just can't afford it right now. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? No. There's no way I could, given my tremors. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? Books. When is the last time you ate donuts? It's been months, man. I've seriously been craving a glazed one, though. Krispy Kreme sounds amaaaaaziiiiiing. Has anyone ever called you sexy? Somehow. Do you like raisins? NO NO NO NO NO. Have you ever overheard a conversation you weren’t supposed to? More than once. Do you like ants? They're genuinely extremely fascinating animals, but they're seriously annoying nevertheless. Did you like the movie Antz? I loved it as a kid. What was your favorite ice cream flavor when you were little? Chocolate. Is it still your favorite? Eh, depends on the day. By the way, what is your name? Brittany. What time zone do you live in? EST. Do you like cats? I love cats. What’s the most creepy experience you’ve ever had? One night when my mom and sister were at the beach for a dance competition, I was having trouble sleeping, and it only got worse when my dog Teddy started freaking the fuck out, barking loudly and staring intently at the foot of the bed. I was so scared that I tried to force his head to lie down, but he fought against me. I was terrified, but got up out of the bed and went into the living room to call my mom at like 3 in the damn morning, and she had to have our neighbor come over to sleep in the house with me (I was in a different room that night). You can't convince me that there wasn't paranormal shit going on. I think the house was haunted honestly, for multiple reasons. What’s the most boring game to exist? Why do you dislike it so much? Hm, I dunno. What’s the coolest place that you've ever been to? What’d you do there? Disney World was very memorable as a kid. We just went around collecting signatures, going on rides, all that fun stuff. I'll never forget fireworks at the castle. If you’re interested in having a long-term relationship with someone, do you think that waiting a certain amount of time before you first have sex is a good idea? Or does it not matter? I think it's a good idea, personally, mostly for the sake of reducing the spread of STDs. Just because you think you'll be long-term, doesn't mean you will be. Besides that, isn't there a science that sex and feelings of love are connected? Like, sex is impossible without at least some underlying emotions? I might be entirely wrong, in which case forgive me for spreading misinformation, but if that's so and things don't go as planned, you've gotten emotionally invested in someone too early and wind up getting hurt. You do you, I just don't think it's smart. Have you ever discovered something big by looking through someone’s phone, Facebook, email, etc.? No. Have you kept anything from your past relationships? (Things they left at your house, gifts, notes, etc) Do you think that’s a big deal for future relationships or not? Yeah, like plushies and little stuff like that. When it's tiny things like I just mentioned, I really don't think it matters. I think some things might be questionable to keep, but at the same time, I don't think it's really wrong to keep memories of a happy time, if the thing still brings you joy and has been emotionally disconnected from the ex? Idk. Do you have any financial regrets? Either way, what’s an example of a GOOD financial decision you’ve made? Going to and dropping out of college three fucking times. I don't know about a good financial decision seeing as I'm not even in charge of my own finances, nor really have any to begin with. Are you a believer in “signs” from the Universe about things in your life? If you are, can you think of a particular example? No. Name some things that one or both of your parents are really good at or really interested in. Mom LOVES medical stuff, like watching surgeries and stuff like that. She is also absolutely incredible with children. Dad likes sports a lot, hockey and football especially. Think of a good friend of the opposite sex (currently or in the past). Have you ever had any sort of “more than a friend” or sexual thoughts about them? If not, can you explain why? Well, we dated briefly, so... It was awkward to, but I let myself imagine sexual situations a few times to help myself understand if I really did like-like him, or if he was truly just a brother to me. Turns out, he's a bro. If someone told you that you would never achieve something and you ended up doing it, would you have any interest in finding that person and showing them? I'ma be honest, yes. I wouldn't actively seek them out, but rather just hope they somehow find out or I run into them or something. What is the most jealousy-induced thing you’ve ever done? Apparently, be the girl Juan liked instead of this girl that literally threatened to deck me. Guess what? We're friends now lmaoooo.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''white rabbit'' by egypt central

[thestudyfeels]

Why Celebrities Are Worth More Than You

Before I dive (copy that? Because this post is gonna be so deep? Edit: I’ll take Jesus and one litre of bleach, thank you) into this storm of revelations, ANNOUNCEMENT!!! This is the first post in a series where I go all in on a particular topic and dig up hidden nuggets of wisdom from it. In other words, I rant. Hard. 

Why am I blessing you with this goodness?

This entire series boils down to improving your mindset. You’ve probably heard the legend that in the Solomon Islands, villagers practiced an, ahem, unique form of logging. If a tree was too large to be felled with an ax, the natives withered down the tree by cursing it for weeks. That’s the idea behind this series: repetition. The PRIMARY reason why I win a lot, is because I am a perennial liar and I won't take a no for my dreams. If I want to have ‘x’ trait, I’ll lie and say I have ‘x’ trait till I do have ‘x’ trait.

This is also known as the Reality Distortion Field, popularised by Steve Jobs. “Steve Jobs’s “reality distortion field” was a personal refusal to accept limitations and to convince himself that any difficulty was surmountable. This “field” was so strong that he was able to convince others that they, too, could achieve the impossible. It was an internal reality so powerful it also became an external reality.” (x)

The catch? The distortion field, and mindset in general, works MAJORLY through repetition. So I don't care if you think you’re the biggest, saddest wanker around, I’m going to drum into your ears that you’re a star and trust me, by the end of this series, every constellation out there will be pining for you.

So tea, I’M ON FIRE TODAY, so if you have a coffee (tea?) to drink, some time to invest on yourself, and a sturdy ol’ cerebrum to upgrade, then join in and watch out for this series (Letters From Solomon Islands, WHATTUP) on your dashboards. My people already know that the how-to’s are clickbait anyway (Coughs, chokes on the shade.)

Why We Adore Our Celebs

The other day I was stalking Tom Hiddleston in my bathroom (please don't use your imagination) and exactly one day ago I had been stalking Billie Eilish in there (yes nosy Eric, I'm bi, but again, don’t get carried away) and there was an interview talking about her rise to fame, and THAT, fellow denizens, got me wondering: Why do we have celebrities? (A profound question Nandini, you’ve done us proud.)

Before you spit something political like “capitalism!”, put down that crochet pattern for a sec. Close your eyes (welcome to woke therapy, ayo), and I want you to envision one of your role models- the people you look up to and would DIE if you get a chance to meet them. The icons you stalk excessively on Insta and have all the notifs on for. No, Sally, your crush on Zac Efron’s abs doesn't count. Sorry to crush your hopes.

Second, consider WHY you love this person so much. It could be anyone - an actor, influencer *smirks*, singer, that hot man down the street who helped you pick up your groceries that one time because you’re clumsy- yup, anyone. Now, trap that love here, in these pages, as you read. (Oh Sally, here’s toilet paper and a cookie, stop sniffling.)

Here’s some foreshadowing: In a nutshell, ‘celebrities’ exist because the rest of us are— excuse us, politically incorrect statement coming through— losers. Or better put, because we can't become ‘celebrities’ ourselves. Don’t run in with your frying pan just yet, James, I’ll do a thorough deconstruction. Stay put and listen up:

           Look around and you’ll find that most of the citizenry is living a life for others. Whether subconsciously, or consciously, it’s as if we’re pre-programmed to imitate and copy whatever the herd is up to. “Yo, whatcha up to, Nate, you out partying? I’ll see you in ten then.” “Lol, are you living under a rock? Do you seriously not know what Uggs are?” “I mean… yeah, I hate Justin Bieber too, of course I do.”

And that's not our fault, really. Society briefs us on the ground rules of fitting in pretty early on: get good grades, go to college, try to find a nice paying job– and we do it, like unquestioning muppets helpless in its domineering hands.

Because we all know the ramifications that’ll crop up if we don’t. If anyone even dares to be a bit different, they’re freezed out and ridiculed. They’re slapped with labels such as “insane”, “naive”, “misfit”, or the best one yet - “selfish”. Selfish for living true to themselves. Selfish for hustling hard and making THEIR dreams a reality. Selfish for having the courage to put their own desires before society’s. What. A. Big. Yawn. I’m sleeping on y’all.

          And that’s precisely where celebs beat us to the finish line.

Look, these ‘acclaimed’ personalities bubble up because most are afraid to be the most bona fide and best version of themselves. It’s much easier to plop on the couch, switch on the TV, and say, “Man, I could do that any day. And prob better too,” while trying to pick up the remote control with your two toes because you’re too comfy to get up right now.

Your role models, idols, and mentors – the entire bulk of these people have a willpower and fortitude that you could only dream of. They’ve hunted down their fears and faced numerous challenges to follow their dreams. They’ve chosen to remain true to their authentic selves even under constant judgment. Sure, they were all called eccentrics and crazy at one point or another, but— ok no, (edit: wow, I had a mood swing here, lmao) they ARE eccentrics. They ARE crazy. Wild for wanting to change the world. Mad for inspiring millions of people. They’re lunatics who had the audacity to dream big, shed the shells of doubt and insecurity, and dared to live their best life.

Moral of the story is: Celebrities, pop stars, and internet personalities aren’t just people who got lucky and wealthy. They had a special kind of fearlessness and self-awareness to get here, qualities worth examining for yourself.

So here’s your mental workout for this post —

Go and ruminate deeply about what makes you love the people you admire. What do they have or do that you want as well? Is it their spontaneity? Their courage and faith? Or is it their kindness and humanity? Or perhaps most importantly, their passion? Have you fallen in love with their excitement to go to work or does your heart melt at the gratitude they show others?

Find out what it is that makes your eyes sparkle and the corners of your lips turn up when you look at them. It is easier to find what you’d love to do from what others are doing than brainstorm on an empty page. *Sally looks up from the corner* “And then what?” *Me, smiles, sensing the crazy philo rant coming ahead* “And then, Sally dear, you live.”

The next step is a big one. You do what THEY did. If they’re passionate, YOU learn to become devoted to your dreams as well. If they don’t give up, you NEVER STRAY either.

You see, we have it in all of us to become great. And we can start wherever we are. Jen Sincero, an author and coach, put it well: “It’s not your fault you’re fucked up, BUT it is your fault if you stay fucked up.” So start where you are. Start NOW. Follow the advice Will gave to Louisa in his departing letter in Me Before You (I’m a soppy romcom fanatic) – “There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do… so live boldly. Push yourself. Don’t settle. Just live well. Just LIVE.”

Love, the world isn’t as scary as we’ve all grown up to think it is. Passion, kindness, faith and magic breathes among us. You’re not a loser, darling, scribble over that insult so it says “lover”, and heal, knowing that the world awfully, I give you my word of honor (still an 18th century woman, y’all), wants you to win.

And I? I’ll be right here waiting for the day when there’ll be no such demarcation of people as “winners” or “suckers”; just conquerors with big hearts and unbreakable faith, all ready to make that small life count. 

Go win.

The End Card That Rambles On And Plugs Even More

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last post: 13 Lessons from the 2018 Chapter

if you don’t love yourself, read this. please.

+ Want to request a post? Leave your request in my ask box & I’ll get back to you asap!

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure having you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I’d suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

I post new posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you’re into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I’ll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it’s a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you’re pretending to be deaf, but Mom’s yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you’re well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I’m sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#look who's getting her first official post of 2019 out!!!! #hope you get smth out of this + feel free to gimme ideas for the next post in this series! #unicorn studying #athenastudying #heypat #adelinestudiess #cyclicstudies #einstetic #heylondonotes #stillstudies #looklibraerie #catlynnhighlights #ref #masterpost #studyblrmasterposts #life #suggestions #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #inspiring #motivation #dont give up #geez <3

[dulcetcries-blog]

hello ! i’m really on brand with the whole posting a day and a half later ! below the cut in no particular order are a collection of four people who populate autumn valley ! they’re not very long because i’m still fleshing them out but i’ve added a couple of wanted connections below all of them that will hopefully be some good jumping off points for deeper connections & help build out their stories a little bit !

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of death ( maeve harrow, jack ellis ) 

★.⁙⁓ kat mcnamara, cis female, she/her, pansexual. ★.⁙⁓ introducing autumn valley’s very own maeve harrow ! she is a twenty five year old manager and a taurus. maeve can be found at hecate’s fire and their favorite autumn activity is going apple picking.

maeve has always believed in the occult, since she was just a little girl. 

her father claimed to know the warrens ( who the conjuring is based on ) and she’s always wanted to know more about the things that exist beyond this world.

little girls with wide imaginations oft have a tendency to explore what should be left alone, and mae knows all this quite well.

her dad passed when she was about six and she tried to use spirit boards to contact him. 

she was seven when she convinced herself that the board had actually worked, but it was also broken and shoved in the trash when she’d come home after school and had told her entire grade that she’d gotten it to work. 

she was a relatively mediocre student throughout school but mae always understood the importance of a good hustle and has always had at least two side hustles running. 

when she was a sophomore in high school, she got in trouble for selling canned soda a dollar cheaper than the vending machines. when she was a junior she had graduated to selling whatever fad pyramid scheme her mother had gotten involved in. 

they were never particularly wealthy, which might also contribute to why mae always wanted to have some kind of money making scheme going. 

funny thing, that feeling of desire; hunger grows deeply in one’s soul long after its been placated in the stomach.

she moved into her own apartment after her mother died about three years ago. mae was the only one who attended her funeral and it’s put some fear in her that she, too, will one day die alone.

she took to hecate’s hearth the moment it opened, always pestering zephyr for a job until they gave her one. 

she always desired a place to belong and the readings that they did for her meant the world and what was once considered a stepping stone now a secondary home, one she hopes to be as permanent as possible. 

wanted connections:

roommate ⋅ of any gender, this person more than likely responded to an ad mae had placed online and in the town newsletter. it wasn’t a particular long process from the time she met this person to the time they moved in, they clicked well and had a good enough understanding before signing the lease with her. 

platonic soulmate since high school ⋅ this is someone that mae was friends with in high school and has maintained an extremely tight relationship with. though they’re not living together ( they tried that once fresh out of high school and it’s safe to say they’ll never do that again ), they are the person that mae considers they’re rock and would fight to the death for. 

★.⁙⁓ phoebe tonkin, demi female, she/her & they/them, pansexual. ★.⁙⁓ introducing autumn valley’s very own charlotte james ! they are a twenty seven year old tattoo artist and a libra. charlie can be found at indelible ink and their favorite autumn activity is pumpkin carving. { written by hannah }

charlie comes from a family with deadbeat parents and seven children and if you don’t think that toughens up somebody then you’re damn wrong. 

they’ve been working two jobs ever since they could remember, early mornings before school and well into the evenings after. after they left high school, they began an apprenticeship at indelible ink here in town and that’s been their primary source of income for the last seven-ish years.

they still keep up a season job at the briarpatch farms, helping out with all of their fall related activities so if they seem like a chicken with their head cut off some days, that would be why. 

while chris takes some care of their parents, charlie wants Nothing to do with them and only really cares about their siblings. 

they are their world and charlie will fight for them and their happiness until the day that they die. and if you think that’s some melodrama you are damn well wrong.

they honestly live in a lowkey shitty apartment but they’d rather save their money and scraping by for now is better than living in a nice place and then suddenly having it taken away from you with no warning.

charlie is ,,, extremely scared of stability and permanence, even though they crave it. they’re scared that they’re going to have something nice and all of a sudden it’s going to be gone, like they’ve put all of this work towards a happiness that they can’t eventually have.

wanted connections:

roommates ⋅ whether or not they actually see charlie often is something to be questioned, charlie is a courteous roommate. no major loud noises, especially not past ten pm or before eight am, no wild parties, no drugs, nothing. granted, charlie doesn’t give a fuck what their roommate does so long as they don’t lose the security deposit on the apartment. 

friends with benefits ⋅ charlie is terrified of permanence and keeping this person at an arm’s length away is something that tracks for that kind of mentality. 

★.⁙⁓ chris hemsworth, cis male, he/him, bisexual. ★.⁙⁓ introducing autumn valley’s very own jackson ellis ! he is a forty one year old mayor and a leo. jack can be found at crichton’s manor and their favorite autumn activity is throwing a halloween party at the mayoral manor. { written by hannah } * business subject to change !

jack has been mayor for the last three and a quarter-ish years and has lived in autumn valley his whole life.

before he was mayor he was the owner and primary manager for red’s tavern, now he just owns the place and stops by for a drink of his own every once in a while. 

he’s placed the business in the capable hands of his sister, the second oldest ellis child after jack himself.

the tavern has been in the family for generations and jack was always proud to own it. he was conscious to get to know a lot of people that way and even though it maintains a dive bar aesthetic, you’ll be hard pressed to find a cleaner bathroom or better junk food.

when he was setting up his mayoral campaign, he got a lot of votes because of his proximity to the people of the town through the bar, which is something he’s been conscious to make especially family friendly. 

lots of people had known him since he was little and even though he ran nearly unopposed, he was a fine breath of fresh air.

he’s ,,, disgustingly warm, honestly. he’s a single father of three children ( ages 16, 19, and 21 -- the eldest two are playable ! ) and he has five younger siblings of his own. 

big families are something that he’s always known and adored. the holiday season means the world to him and he always starts preparing for halloween in september ( though he is incredibly conscious about making sure he doesn’t skip thanksgiving in his excitement for christmas ).

wanted connections:

personal assistant ⋅ this is the person who helps jack find his head every morning. they know the ins and outs of his personal life and help him with just about everything he need, from making sure he gets his coffee in the morning to picking up his kids from school. they’re treated like a member of the ellis family and jack trusts them with his life. 

his flirtationship ⋅ this is someone that jack is progressively warming up to ( for as much warmer as a man like jack can get ). whether or not this grows into something more is something that we can plot out, but he’s extremely hesitant to start anything serious given that he’s concerned about his kids, his dedication to the town, and not actually being able to make time for the person he gets romantically involved with. preferably filled by someone 27+ and can be any gender. 

★.⁙⁓ sarah jeffery, cis female, she/her, sexuality. ★.⁙⁓ introducing autumn valley’s very own belinda matthews ! she is a twenty five year old tour guide and a cancer. belle can be found at crichton manor and their favorite autumn activity is getting lost in a corn maze. { written by hannah }

belinda matthews is the daughter of a pair of lawyers, cecelia and andrew matthews. 

the matthews were well into their thirties by the time they’d had their first child, both of them on their second marriage, but neither one lacking in love for their daughter.

belle always knew she was loved and for that kind of home she will always be thankful. the relationship that she has with her parents is built on a deep foundation of trust and respect, something that she’s observed is not true for most of her friends her age. 

given this extremely tight relationship, she’s always been a rather confident kid and that translated to her schoolwork, too. 

her parents were lawyers and she wanted to follow in their footsteps as best as she could. 

it was at school that belle was reminded of how sincerely she loved history and she switched relatively early on from any kind of criminal justice or pre-law track to a history track.

she’s currently in her final year of her master’s degree, though she’s not totally sure what she’s going to do with it. 

she took up a job at crichton manor about two years ago to put a little extra cash in her pocket while she was working on her degrees and she absolutely loves giving tours around town.

wanted connections:

i’m lowkey a little burnt out but fuck me up, belle makes close connections easily !

#i have two more muses coming ( a dove cameron and matt daddario ) #i just wanted to get something posted #hqa:intro

[loneberry]

THE LOST GIRL’S HOME IS IN BOOKS: spring leisure reading

Girl Reading (1850), oil on canvas, Andre Fontaine

Writing on my phone. On the train. Woke with a sore throat. Snow outside the Manhattan window turning to sludge and then puddles. In the morning Alex and I made our way to Tisch to pick up books from Wendy and sit in on Fred Moten’s class. He spoke for three hours about a paragraph in Zalamea’s Synthetic Philosophy of Contemporary Mathematics, constellating the Isley Brothers with quantum physics with the history of slavery with Solange with financialization with the spatio-temporal dimensions of Judaism with critiques of the individuated liberal subject. In Fred’s presence I’m always in awe. When he says the stream of thought will go where it goes, I know what he means, what it feels like, to want to read everything. To have no filters. To be a being who is…interested. “You know, it’s like a river that winds through all these different terrains, and part of it winds through the history of science, and part of it winds through category theory and general topology, and part of it winds through Russian cinema—I’m just interested.” (Moten) Would like to linger more on the things I read and not just mark passages to return to…later. Has grad school de-skilled me? Has the process of becoming a “historian”—of having to read thousands of pages per class in grad seminars destroyed my ability to read slowly? Poetry is becoming harder to read. It demands a kind of attention other than the kind of attention I have become accustomed to—the temporality forced into me by the academic grind. Last semester I did my comprehensive exams. For two hours I was quizzed by 4 professors on the contents of ~400 books. My fields were: Prisons and Police; History and Political Economy of Race in America; Social and Political Theory (Marxism, psychoanalysis, critical theory, Frankfurt School, feminist/queer theory, post-structuralism); and Black Literature, Theory and Cultural Studies. “Studying” for my exams hardly felt like studying at all—I was just doing what I’ve always done: read. But the thing about being in academia is…you can’t just read what you want to read (unless you’re Fred!), you’re supposed to specialize. Your supposed to read within your discipline, to be monogamous with your dissertation topic. But sometimes…my mind needs ventilation. I need to let my mind wander. So this spring break I went on a kind of “retreat”—I rented a little eco-bungalow on a mountain overlooking the ocean in Deshaies, Guadalupe, with the intention to do nothing except read, journal & spend time in nature. It’s weird to now have a life where I have to schedule in these compressed snatches of leisure. Between my academic life and artist/public intellectual life all life is becoming work work work. Constant travel, mountains of assignments to grade, grant applications, bureaucracy, student emails, assigned readings, lesson planning, talks—in psychoanalysis I am sometimes too fatigued to finish my sentences. What was it? “The disquieting feeling that we don’t own ourselves.” My poor journal, neglected since last semester. Turned inside-out and called into presence by the Pavlovian PING of the push notification. Life becomes the work of feeding the avatar. It’s nothing new. It’s the same ole subject formation, in overdrive. The you of I (alienated Lacanian subject) — identification with an image of self that circulates as…I-am-that. When the avatar takes over your life, when you become what the public makes you…how can you find a way to re-inhabit your life as you? Quiet. Unplug. Has busyness evacuated my inner life? I’m still me. But look at how much my situation has changed…

Here are my notes on the books I read over spring break (some finished the week after I returned…)

Tolstoy - Anna Karenina

My skin takes it in. Ghosts enter and leave this vessel, Sunship Earth. Body, too, will become a ruined beach house covered in pale violet morning glory vines, its shutters still hinged shut. Now Nabokov is analyzing the varied march of time in Tolstoy—there is something like a moral in Kitty and Levin’s slow dance, against the locomotive thrust of Anna and Vronsky. A road—to where? The bull in the clearing, the smell of the tiny yellow flowers and the fade, the gloaming, the wall of water, peach-haloed in the sunset. The dimming, the peep of the first cicada, the crushed cicada that lost its way, the dream that wrote her destiny, the dirty peasant rooting around in the sack—the man split by the wheels of the locomotive. A force that nothing, no one escapes. [Holy shit. As I type these notes from my journal my train has been stopped in Providence because the train ahead of us hit someone]. Yes, I have had the dream of the man with his hand in my sack [“It was crowded in the market. I was trying to photograph the flowers but the image was distorted because a man had his hand in my backpack”]. Can a sudden silence wake a sleeping body? I think, as I wake, that I have caught the day in the precise moment of transition. What crossed over then, the wind swept the island clean. Like Anna Karenina I have been under the spell of the dream: what I now no longer know if I can trust. Nothing could have saved Anna the terrible omen flashing above her life…

Nabokov - Lectures on Russian Literature

Freud and Baldwin love Dostoyevsky. Nabokov loathes him. What does that tell you about the kinds of people who love and hate Dostoyevsky? Lovers of Dostoyevsky: hysterics, neurotics, fringe-dwellers, madmen. Dostoyevsky is to literature what Zulawski is to cinema (emotional excess–which is why teens also love Dostoyevsky). This whole book is an argument for Tolstoy and against Dostoyevsky. Lovers of Tolstoy: the good, the moral, the erudite, Oprah. Nabokov is a snob à la Adorno, but his lectures on Tolstoy are damn good (skip the ones on Dostoyevsky), especially the ones on dreams and time in Anna K.

Nabokov and Barabtarlo - Insomnia Dreams

This book is pretty fucking cool. It is an inventory of Nabokov’s proleptic dreams, which he wrote down on notecards after reading J. W. Dunne’s An Experiment with Time. Dunne was an aeronautical engineer and crackpot philosopher who developed what I sometimes call stoner dream theory. He believed that past-present-future exist simultaneously and that the experience of time as an arrow moving forward is an effect of waking consciousness. In dreams we are unhitched from normative time and can access the future–are touched by future events. 

Notebook notes: Dunne and Nabokov dream to know time in every direction. So future events loop back to pierce our sleeping heads. Did I believe—the future is making contact with me. What did the dream corrupt? I could not outrun it. Nabokov dreaming of South Station [strange, that’s where I’m headed as I type up these notes…]. Dreams of the lepidopterist: chasing the butterflies with a giant spoon instead of a net. Sometimes he’s an insufferable pedant. But even pedants can have a compelling dream life…

Lemov - Database of Dreams: The Lost Quest to Catalog Humanity

Professor Lemov teaches in the History of Science department at Harvard. She is currently a faculty fellow in a year-long Crime and Punishment seminar at Harvard that I am also a part of. I first got interested in her work after she presented an excellent paper on the history of Cold War behaviorist experiments (many of which were conducted on prisoners, including the practice of “psychosurgery”) and early efforts to use data to construct psychological theories of deviance. When I found out she wrote a history of a dream database, I knew I had to read it.

This book is a history of Bert Kaplan’s ambitious mid-20th century quest to create a database of dreams and psychological data (called the Primary Records in Culture and Personality), which consists of a collection of the raw notes of the thoughts, feelings, and dreams of people from around the world, stored on the now-obsolete technology of the Microcard. It is at once a history of: microfilm technologies, data science, the information storage ambitions of postwar social scientists and anthropologists, and psychologists’ obsession with the dreams and unconscious thoughts of ethnic “others.” The story of the database is fascinating in itself…but I wanted to know more about what was in the repository. Sometimes the unconscious speaks:

“A man named Birch Tree told of a dying young man of his acquaintance who had dreamed too ambitiously: one night, he was able to see ‘every leaf in the whole world’ and perished soon after, like the leaves that fall from the trees each year.”

“dream #19, in which he was shooting birds, surrounded by sunflowers as big as evergreen trees”

“Dreams were “palimpsests for understanding what could be called ‘not-self,’ the place at which the self begins to shade away into nothingness or something else.” 

“If you sat in a library looking at someone’s dreams, what were you seeing?”

The database of dreams was dead on arrival.

But there’s another living database of dreams assembled by oneirologist Kelly Bulkeley: http://sleepanddreamdatabase.org/ – have read and enjoyed several of Bulkeley’s books too. The convocation of the oneirologists… 

Sliwinski - Mandela’s Dark Years 

How strange, I read this two days before the death of Winnie Mandela. Did Nelson dream of Winnie while in prison? There is a lot to chew on in this little book. I keep returning to the dream that is circled in the text, Nelson Mandela’s dream from prison:

I had one recurring nightmare. In the dream, I had just been released from prison—only it was not Robben Island, but a jail in Johannesburg. I walked outside the gates into the city and found no one there to meet me. In fact, there was no one there at all, no people, no cars, no taxis. I would then set out on foot toward Soweto. I walked for many hours before arriving in Orlando West, and then turned the corner toward 8115. Finally, I would see my home, but it turned out to be empty, a ghost house, with all the doors and windows open, but no one at all there.

The subject in absentia dreams their erasure while in prison, the experience of becoming-ghost. (Mandela’s recurring nightmare. How apartheid structures the geography of the unconscious…)

Szabó - The Door

“If there was [an] article about what to read once you’ve finished Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels, The Door—though it lacks the scope of those books—might top the list.” I read no such list but did finish the Neapolitan novels last year. I read The Door after it was recommended by 3 of my feminist friends.

To say what this book is about would fail to get at the experience of reading this book. It’s deeply disturbing and all the more so because Emerence, the narrator’s housekeeper, is the exact likeness of my aunt Helen. They are women for whom every emotional door has been sealed shut. They both had dogs that were passionately attached to them. Under what conditions does the wound grow into an impenetrable shell? Grow into the pride of self-sufficiency… 

Notes: The book is bookended by a recurring nightmare of a door that won’t open. An ambulance outside, and the silhouettes of paramedics seen through glass. Most of my dreams are about the absence of shelter, porous structures, rooms that are always open to invaders. But here is a nightmare about being trapped inside with someone in need of help. Ferrante’s Days of Abandonment resonates too.

Resonances.  Lightning strikes the two babes Emerence was fleeing with. In Anna Karenina, lightning missed Kitty and child. The plots of two novels are crossed. What characters evade in one novel befalls characters in another. It’s like the books are talking to each other through the body of me.

Schmitt - Political Theology

We should discuss this book in person. My thoughts are too sprawling to give shape to them here. People on the left read Schmitt for his critique of liberalism and though there are parts of it I find compelling (I’ve elaborated the concept of a “financial state of exception” in my book Carceral Capitalism), the part about liberal democracy lacking decisionism because it’s weighed down by a Weberian bureaucracy is, I think, wrong. Well, that’s what I felt while reading McCoy’s In the Shadows of the American Century immediately following Political Theology. 

McCoy - In the Shadows of the American Century

This book is part of an ever-growing body of literature on the decline of US hegemony and the rise of China as a global superpower. But what this book adds to the analysis is a thought-provoking discussion of the changing nature of geopolitical struggles–from a navel-based strategy to a land-based strategy. McCoy unpacks the influence of Halford Mackinder’s theory of the Geographical Pivot of History, which posits that the future belongs to whoever controls the Eurasian landmass (the World-Island). During the Cold War the US has maintained its hegemony by controlling key axial points–through NATO in western Europe (on the west side of the World-Island), and the strategic positioning of military/naval bases around the Pacific, and the forging of political and economic alliances with South Korea, Japan, the Philippines, etc. This book is a good overview of how the US built and maintained its empire, and offers possible blueprints for its decline (McCoy’s analysis of Obama’s attempts to salvage US hegemony through his “pivot toward Asia” and Trump’s acceleration of the decline of US hegemony was interesting…). After reading about the CIA’s covert operations in Latin America I felt that liberal democracy is not at all lacking decisionism, as Schmitt says, but like all states it maintains its power through brute force (militarism/war), international diplomacy, strategic alliances, soft power, proxy warfare and covert operations, international trade agreements, technological prowess, surveillance, etc. 

Saterstrom - Ideal Suggestions

What is the relationship between what is seen and unseen?

Saterstrom’s poetics can be summed up by her line: “dust mote footing the invisible”–the “thing” itself is often absent, even as it mutates everything present, but there are ways to access ghosts, traces, invisible forces, and the disappeared. Like a projection that flashes when it catches smoke in the phantasmagoria–you can catch it in the transition.

The form of the book is satisfying. I enjoy the way it alternates between ars poetica and the enactment of the poetics it is trying to sketch.

Notes:

“In the other world everything also exists. But in versions complicated by the softness that dissolution makes.”

“what happens between women when the center of female triangulation is scarcity and lack?”

Simone Weil: “When a contradiction is impossible to resolve except by a lie, then we know that it is really a door.”

divinatory poetics as a way to bear “the absurdity and enchantment of human experience”

to write from “within the membranous precincts between our multiple bodies in the larger rhizomatic field of resonances, where much is sounding and is also unsounded.”

Christian Hawkey: “the holes in our bodies and skulls are voice chambers, sound chambers, wherein our own voiced selves and the voiced selves of others constantly enter and exit, and are changed by our bodies upon entrance, exit. Consciousness…is less a vehicle for “self-presence” than a void, a blank space at the site of intersection.” 

“the friendship of our ghosts”

“A raw garnet dug up from earth appears as a piece of burned glass and smells of warm dirt. How did this garnet come to rest here, pinned between sky and sea, a mineral between the here and hereafter? Lines made through the absenting of lines, they suggest their phantom shapes into calligraphy. And someone arrives, a dead poet, she writes in an elegant script a poem about geese. It is a melancholic poem featuring geese, a landscape, and reflections about death. How do the deceased live within the blurred calligraphic strokes dependent upon whatever it was we erased? Who was here first? The process of being read, truly read. One day our lines appear in some other’s erasure.”

Where Freedom Starts (an anthology of essays on #MeToo)

This is an excellent collection of essays on #MeToo that captures the spectrum of feminist responses to the nascent movement. It includes black feminist critiques of carceral feminism, a discussion of black and Latinx vulnerability to sexual violence in the sphere of domestic labor, queer critiques of moral sex panics, feminist analyses of social reproduction, analyses of how undocumented women are hyper-vulnerable to sexual assault in the workplace (and at risk of deportation if they report sexual abuse), and more. I appreciate that many of these essays attempt to grapple with the emotionally and politically messy aspects of sexual violence–How do we determine the category or degree of the harm done? What you do when you feel ambivalence toward your rapist and internalize blame? How is victimhood constructed? I plan to return to these topics and questions in an essay I hope to write in May.

**This ebook is free from Verso.** Get it here.

Marina Van Zuylen - The Plentitude of Distraction

If I ever teach my Lost Girls class on the poetics of wandering, I would definitely include this book!! So, so good. Yes, the poet needs to give herself over to her reveries. To luxuriate in the waywardness of experience–the soul cut loose.

Notes: Darwin’s great regret: “Up to the age of thirty, or beyond it, poetry of many kinds … gave me great pleasure, and even as a schoolboy I took intense delight in Shakespeare, especially in the historical plays.  I have also said that formerly pictures gave me considerable, and music very great delight.  But now for many years I cannot endure to read a line of poetry: I have tried lately to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me.  I have also almost lost my taste for pictures or music…. My mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, I cannot conceive…. If I had to live my life again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. The loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature.”

Discussed this Darwin passage with my analyst for some time. I don’t want to become a work machine! Give me “delicious idleness”!

“stop measuring your days by what you can report to your boss or to your conscience”

waywardness: “reveries unfasten him from his constructed social persona, eventually converting dispersal into a gathering of self-hood”

 Blaise Pascal, Pensées: “The only thing that consoles us for our miseries is diversion. And yet it is the greatest of our miseries. For it is that above all which prevents us thinking about ourselves and leads is imperceptibly to destruction. But for that we should be bored, and boredom would drive us to seek some more solid means of escape, but diversion passes our time and brings us imperceptibly to our death.”   

“the pure pleasure of a contemplative experience”

“It is not too late to side with some of the great propagandists of wasted time, with the practitioners of reverie, and cultivate the pleasures and pains of mental mayhem.”

Marx - Capital Vol 1

It’s always a good time to re-read Marx. In December I started a Capital reading group with my comrades LaKeyma and Joohyun. Marx is best read with your women of color crew! 

Sithole - Steve Biko: Decolonial Meditations of Black Consciousness

Did an event with the incredible Tendayi Sithole at NYU (moderated by Fred Moten and Wendy Lotterman), so I wanted to read Tendayi’s work on Biko before the event. Many parts of the book draw on Afropessimism to analyze Biko’s liberatory political philosophy. We had a long discussion (privately and during the panel) about Afropessimism’s reception in South Africa (”it’s given us a language to understand our predicament,” says Tendayi). Such good work, and such a wonderful person and poet too!! During the reading Fred said Tendayi and I “became a band.” 

McGuckian - The Flower Master

Re-read this at the Deshaies botanical gardens in Guadalupe. Unfuckwithable. McGuckian is one of my favorite poets of all time. Also read the parts about McGuckian in Northern Irish Poetry and the Russian Turn. Had no idea McGuckian draws so heavily from Russian literature, and that she feels there is a natural kinship between Russians and the Irish due to their historical predicaments… 

Harford - Fifty Inventions that Shaped the Modern Economy

Pop economic/business and tech history. Replete with compelling stories and fun facts about underappreciated inventions. The chapters I was most interested in were the ones about inventions that fundamentally transformed gendered labor (TV dinners, infant formula, the birth control pill). After a while this books started to annoy me because the novelty wore off and I can only handle so much praise of the so-called wonders of capitalism.

Brogaard and Marlow - The Superhuman Mind

I don’t think I’m any smarter after having read this book. It’s somewhere between pop science (in the style of Oliver Sacks) and self-improvement literature. The book tries to give you mental “hacks”–mnemonics and algorithmic mental shortcuts. Most of the the book describes case studies of people who have accidentally unlocked superhuman mental capacities as a result of a brain injury, stroke, etc…or they were just born neurologically atypical. Synesthetes have good memories. If you’ve ready any of the pop sci books on memory you already know these tricks… the Greeks have known about the Memory Room for a while too…

Still reading:

Moten’s Black and Blur

Anne Boyer’s A Handbook of Disappointed Fate

Doudna and Sternberg’s A Crack in Creation: Gene Editing and the Unthinkable Power to Control Evolution

Frank Stanford - The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You

#books #leisure reading #reading

[maximuswolf]

A Story with Uncertain Results via /r/ADHD

A Story with Uncertain Results

Hey everybody, I’m new to this subreddit for a similar reason most new people around here are, which is that I was recently diagnosed with ADHD (age 18……. Better late than never I guess). I noticed a distinct lack of full stories on this subreddit, and I thought it would be interesting to talk about mine to compare.

I consider myself pretty smart. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told. I suppose I could be placed in that class of student who frustrates the “good students” by doing as well as them without studying or even paying attention. I never needed to. Elementary school is strange in that it is exceptionally boring from a schoolwork perspective for those even slightly above average in intelligence. I was the “smart kid” in elementary school, and American school systems do a pretty shitty job of identifying problems in students who aren’t failing. For you see, sustained attention problems do not present themselves when assignments take less than 10 minutes. Task switching is not a problem when you finish tasks so early you get a full 30 minutes between them. Emotional regulation problems aren’t considered when you are a boy (boys will be boys… ok boomer). Now, something that’s actually kind of funny about this is that I absolutely should have gotten lower grades than I did. There was a test I took in 3rd grade where I answered the correct letter for the previous question for the middle half of the test and skipped a question, and my teachers only counted the one I skipped incorrectly. According to them, I just went too fast and that was the only problem.

Fast forward to middle school, which I think is the point that a lot of undiagnosed kids crash for the first time. I bombed the second quarter of middle school with possibly more unsubmitted assignments than submitted ones. It took a ton of work to get back on track, but this wasn’t much of an issue either because, even though I had 30 assignments I needed to complete, none of them took more than 10 minutes and I had 3 weeks to do it. Now, had I been unassisted, they simply wouldn’t have happened, but my history teacher used her own class time to force me to complete my missing assignments for other classes and told my parents that it was just a “boy in middle school” thing. Apparently nobody bothered to note that this was not something that happened for literally any other middle school boy. I did fairly well in the rest of middle school, and now we reach the point in my life where all those emotional skills ADHD doesn’t come with kick in. I never had good friends. I’m sure you could’ve picked this up by now, but as a younger child I was extremely arrogant. In 8th grade though, I actually met some people with whom I spoke. Often. The most important person in this group to include in my story is my future girlfriend, and future future ex-girlfriend.

I was vaguely aware of her crush on me for a long time in 8th grade, but I am not a naturally emotionally available individual, and expressing feelings and physical touch made me extremely uncomfortable for a number of ADHD and non-ADHD related reasons. However, this girl was attached to me, and my lack of emotional tact steadily wore down on her emotional state. When I finally decided that I would actually date her in 9th grade, she had depression for reason both under and not under my control (her relationship with her parents was…. strange to say the least). Over time, it became difficult to talk to her and we both decided it would be better if we parted ways, but that started the long chain of persisting mental health problems that I struggle with today.

Low self esteem was a new experience for me, and anxiety wasn’t something I was used to either. They both hit pretty hard. Hard enough that I quickly also became depressed. My grades suffered, and so my mental state suffered, and so my grades suffered further. At the time, I attributed the grades dropping exclusively to my mental state. I barely ended that year without a C, ending with an A and 6 Bs. One B was a for a class in which I had 11 zero quiz grades throughout the year and a 44 test grade. In this class, we were expected to make 30-70 detailed notecards each unit for the subject we were on. Each one could take 5-10 minutes. And they were incredibly boring to write. Sounds like a great assignment for someone with ADHD. Ironically, I remember trying to force myself to write the notecard about ADHD (it was a psychology class, actually).

I struggled with depression off and on over the next two years and anxiety was a problem that just kept getting worse. Junior year went pretty well, and then Covid hit. I lost the ability to do anything. My anxiety prevented me from asking my teachers for help with anything, and I absolutely needed the help. The primary contributor to my anxiety was an inferiority complex developed through my math classes. I just could not do as well as my peers. I would carry our table through problems during units, but when we got to the test, I would do a good 10 points worse than anyone I thought I should be equal to or better than. I also worked to the time limit on every last one, frequently not finishing them.

My grades were shaky at best for every year of high school other than the first, and this wasn’t something anyone, including my parents had seen from me before. I was constantly bombarded by my parents’ assumption that I had just ceased to care and just didn’t want to do any work. It was destroying me. At one point near the end of sophomore year, I genuinely considered offing myself for about 5 minutes at midnight sitting on the couch of my pitch black living room. I didn’t, but it was closer than I’d like to admit.

Back to senior year, and my depression had mostly subsided. I’m dating again, a rather tomboyish girl who I love dearly (she’d cringe at that sentence). My anxiety ever worsened. I procrastinated asking for college recommendation letters long enough that I had to wait to apply regular decision because my teachers would only write recs if given that extra time, and I don’t even know why I couldn’t get myself to ask. Logically it would be a fear of rejection, but I have no idea why that would be as I’ve never really been rejected in a meaningful situation.

My grades have been ok in online school, but the more important part of this final year of the story is finally talking to my pediatrician about my anxiety…. at 18 years old. Some of the problems I mentioned were apparently inconsistent with anxiety, so I was also referred for a psych eval for neurodevelopmental disorders, but I immediately started therapy for anxiety and depression, which had been alright.

I was evaluated in mid-December, and on the 17th of January I had my telehealth appointment for the evaluation. Fuck. When asked by my therapist what I thought might be wrong with me, I responded “social anxiety and mild ADHD.” Boy was I understating. Apparently feeling as though you are far behind your true potential for several years and being constantly bombarded with others telling you you aren’t good enough does a thing to a person. About that off and on depression I mentioned earlier? BAM cyclothymia. Generalized anxiety disorder wasn’t a surprised, but what did surprised me was my diagnosis of not mild, not even just moderate, but moderate to severe predominantly inattentive ADHD. I’ve actually got the scores from the WAIS-IV I took to compare sections that are heavily impacted by ADHD and those that are not. The section least impacted by ADHD is Verbal Comprehension, on which I scored a 127. My other scores are the real kickers though (I sound old here don’t I…. fuck…. I blame having old parents): Perceptual reasoning: 96, Processing Speed: 89, Working Memory: 80.

Anyways, that was something of a shock. Today was my second day on the minimum dose size for Concerta, and….. I feel exactly the same. I might be a little more awake than usual? I’m also noticeably more tired around 6 pm, but that might just be that I have to wake up earlier now.

So anyways, that’s where I am right now. I’m sure this is difficult to read and I apologize for dumping my life onto this post, but I thought it would be interesting to hear some other peoples’ more detailed experiences, thanks for reading if you got this far.

TL;DR Honestly I don’t think I can really TL;DR this but basically, slightly worse version of stereotypical 18 y/o diagnosis of inattentive type

Submitted January 21, 2021 at 10:22PM by Most-Hedgehog-3312 via reddit https://ift.tt/3p6Yeh3

[smoothserg]

This is Why Trump Almost Won the Election...Checkout the Revelations From Doctors To American Patients...

1. “But it’s sterile and I like the taste.”

“Nurse here. The number of people I’ve had to tell to not drink or to stop drinking their urine is surprising.” – Dakipa

2. Cleanliness is next to godliness.

“You’re 22 – wash your dick.” – Nickrosis

3. Did you not learn this in 6th grade?

4. Secondhand idiocy.

“Yes, you smoking in your house is likely making your kid’s asthma worse.” – BruteSquad610

5. Where do I even start?

“A couple instances come to mind.

1) Don’t have sex 6 hours after you delivered a baby.

2) Coffee creamer is not the same as infant formula. Please do not feed your day old newborn International Delight.

3) Probiotics are different from antibiotics. Probiotics do not cure syphilis. – Kaclassen

6. Sometimes, listen to the patients.

“I know you are trying to help but you don’t do CPR on someone who is actively telling you to stop between compressions.” – Cl1mb3r

7. Don’t try this at home kids.

“Jumping from a first floor balcony onto an alfresco dining shade umbrella below will not make you bounce up and down like you are on a trampoline. Instead your 100kg body will simply crash through the fabric onto the footpath below and break both your arms. You will not impress the ladies with this, like you originally intended – and besides, what exactly is a semi-obese man in his forties still doing trying to impress women like that?

(What I actually said to him, which encapsulated all of the above, was ”what part of you thought it was a good idea?”, followed by ”and remind me how old you are again?”).” – OkeyDoke47

8. It’s an ultrasound, not a crystal ball.

“No. I cannot tell the race of your baby on ultrasound. You’ll have to wait until birth to have an awkward conversation with one of your boyfriends.” – sutherbb36

9. Not so fast, are you?

“I was waiting to get my colonoscopy done a couple of years ago and they were asking the lady in the next station if she’d fasted. They went through all the questions and double-checked that she had fasted, then after confirming, almost as an aside she throws in that she had oatmeal for breakfast that morning.

Nurse: Ma’am, fasting means you can’t eat anything before the exam.

Lady: I know. But I always have oatmeal for breakfast.

Nurse: I understand. But you can’t eat before this exam. The doctor has to look at your digestive system.

Lady: But oatmeal is good for digestion.

Nurse: You can’t eat anything before this exam. You have to have completely fasted so he can look at your intestines.

Lady: But I always have oatmeal for breakfast.” – PerilousAli

11. Where do I begin?

“Primary Care Doc here, here’s a few of my favorite things I’ve had to tell patients

Please leave your marijuana/pipe/joint/paraphernalia in your vehicle or at home; don’t bring it to your appointment

You don’t need to bring a hunting knife to your appointment.

No I can’t write you a letter saying your rabbit is a service animal so you can fly it around the country with you for free.

Showing up drunk to an 8am appointment and asking me to prescribe you Xanax doesn’t get you Xanax

I am not qualified to tell you how much masturbation is too much masturbation.

It is not my job to teach your adolescent son about how to get a girlfriend.

Your medicine only works when you take it.

I’m not going to give you my cell phone number

Women are doctors too

No I can’t just remove your gallbladder in the office; I’m also not a surgeon.

You shouldn’t be taking your friend’s/mom’s/grandma’s medication.

You can’t just ‘pull your panties to the side’ for a Pap smear

….and the list goes on and on” – AboveAverageAMA

14. Do you not wipe?

“Old friend of mine is a Nurse Practitioner. She told me she once saw a patient, male, complaining of severe rectal itching and general pain.

She is a very smart people-person, she can read people very well. She got right to the point and asked him about his daily hygiene routine. She had a hunch based off his presentation that he was a “man’s man”…”aint go gay stuff happening here!!!”

Long story short, when showering, he NEVER cleaned his ass. Ever. He told her, that it was “homosexual” to touch his anus.

She had to explain to him that the severe rash and itching he had been dealing with for apparently YEARS was a direct result of his perceived “homo acts.”

She instructed him to go home, take a proper shower, and apply witch hazel for a few days.

Amazing that a grown man thinks this way.” – IT_Chef

16. Maybe that’s why they’re, you know, crying.

“Yes, your babies need to be fed through the night. They are not born eating three meals a day and sleeping 10 hours a night. Please, dear God, wake up and feed them.” – kyelmo

17. Eww.

“I am a clinical lab scientist, and I frequently have to tell patients that I cannot accept their stool samples in tupperware, mugs, food to-go boxes, etc. The worst is when they take the shit-filled mug back home with them cause they don’t want to lose a ‘perfectly good mug.'” – lalalashucks

18. Meth, not even once.

“Usually goes along with after a car accident and their kids weren’t in car seats/seatbelts, how their kids… NEED TO BE IN FUCKING CAR SEATS… But it’s summer so a more seasonal example is the following:

Me- “So whats the problem today?”

Them- “I don’t know what’s going on! I can’t breath! I’m having a seizure!”

Me- “Hmmm.. has this ever happened before?

T- “Yea usually when I smoke crystal meth”

Me- “Did you smoke crystal meth today?”

T- “Yea, like 30 min ago. Why?”

Me- “….” – IronicNihilist

19. So much for the food pyramid.

“This conversation happened once.

Me: Also, you need to eat more fiber.

Guy: Okay, sure.

Me: That means more vegetable during meals. And you can have fruits for dessert.

Guy: Urgh… But I don’t like vegetables.

Me: Yeah, but you gotta eat more of them now.

Guy: No, I don’t eat vegetables.

Me: What do you mean?

Guy: I never eat vegetables. Like, since I was a kid. Never.

Me: Why?

Guy: I don’t like how it tastes.

Me: …..

The guy was in his 30s, severely obese with lots of pimples on his face. His cholesterol was through the roof. And he was having problem with his colon health. He was there with his wife and two kids, too.” – SphmrSlmp

20. Stop wasting my time.

“No, belly button lint is not a reason to go to the emergency room via ambulance.” – stayathmdad

21.

Me: “Did you miss a dose of [insert medicine name here]?” Pt: “No, I take it every day”. Me: “How many times did you not take [previously named medicine] in the past week?” Pt: “Three and I skipped this morning too”.

This happens probably once a week.” – RepublicansRInbreds

22.

“Patient had been referred to my pharmacy by his physician for an OTC enema. The guy was not the sharpest tack, and apparently either his physician did not explain it well or the guy didn’t listen, but our conversation went like this:

Pt.: So I drink down this whole bottle and then I’ll hafta shit?

Me: No sir, this is an enema. It is used rectally.

Pt. (confused): So what’s that mean, I don’t hafta drink the whole thing?

Me: No sir, you’ll lie on your side and insert the applicator tip of the bottle into your rectum and squeeze the contents into you bowel. You’ll then remain lying on your side and hold the enema in until you feel the urge to have a bowel movement.

Pt.: You tellin’ me I gotta stick it up my ass!?

Me: Yes sir, this is an enema and it is used rectally. There are detailed instructions and diagrams in the box.

Pt.: FUCK YOU!

And he stormed off. That was the last I saw of him. Not sure if he thought I was messing with him or what, but I hope he eventually got to shit.” – IbuBROfen

26.

No, your teenaged daughters cannot share a single prescription for birth control pills. — MisplacedApostophie

30. “Worked in women’s health……so many things but one that always makes me shake my head is a woman telling me that her doctor said if she pees after sex she won’t get pregnant. I had to explain to a grown ass woman who had already given birth three times that your urethra and your cervix are two different holes and peeing after intercourse can help prevent UTIs but not pregnancy. Learn about your body ladies, no one else is going to teach you.” – reddoesntcare

32. You should not be allowed to have sex.

#21. Me: “Did you miss a dose of [insert medicine name here]?” Pt: “No I take it every day”. Me: “How many times did you not take [previously

[googledocsdontworkatwork]

Sid leaned against the wall outside of his classroom, greeting parents as they each come inside.

“Good evening everybody, glad y’all could make it tonight. Man, first period got a higher turn out then I anticipated. Not much has change from last year... So, I’m going to go through some quick info first, My name is Obsidian Eastwood. The class your child has me is Introduction to Japanese. I also teach U.S. Modern War and U.S. World Involvement. Weird mix, I know but hey. Make sense for me. I am semi-retired Marine Sniper. Born and raised in Japan and deported when I was 13, used the military to obtain citizenship for my mother and I. I have my Bachelors and Master both from UofT which I completed primarily online while deployed and/or recovering.”

Sid clicked through the slideshow, and went on to the next tab which had the sylabus. “For this class, I assign multiple small assignments through out the week, and they’re all due that Friday. With it being a language course it is important that it get completed in a timely manner as so I can continue on the lesson. On Wednesday we have a quiz to figure out where the class stands so I can plan out the next lesson. Due to this being the only Japanese II class, it makes it really at their speed and interests. At this point, they are all actually conversational in Japanese and we are going to be doing the Japanese language test at the end of the next semester, and I am confident they well all test at N1 level, and by the end of the year I hope to having them testing at N2.” Sid said, clicking through. “Now does anybody else have any questions?”

“What are the benefits of the language test?” A parent asked.

“Japan is very picky about their language, so they made a test to make sure that you are fluent in it, and will give out certifications dictating your fluency. I say this lovingly mind you. If you kid wants to either being a translator, or wants to move to Japan or wants to work in the anime field, they actually have a fighting chance at that.” Sid answered, and then the 5 minute bell rang. “Alright, next up is Modern War, Mr. Jones your son is also in this class so you can just stay put.”

“Mr. Eastwood, my son really looks up to you. I just want to let you know that.” Mr. Jones said nervously.

Sid just looked at him and smiled. “That’s great to hear. He’s a pleasure to work with.”

“He came out to me last week. I think I did okay.” 

“You did great. He came back to me the next day beaming.” Sid answered with a huge grin. 

“Oh, that is so reassuring. I’m still talking to my ex-wife about it, she didn’t handle it too well.”

“He has you though. He is feeling betrayed but one half, but not abonanded. That’s the important part. Listen we can talk after this class, alright? Don’t want to be rude but I have to do my ramble. Also, you can have a chuckle at the different method of talking to different parent types.” 

Parents were coming through, sitting at random desks, this class was much smaller with only 2 other parents showing up.

“Alright, good evening everybody. My name is Sid Eastwood, and the class right now is U.S. Modern War. In this class we cover the different wars from the past 10 years of involvement. This class covers the who and the whats from each side of the war. For the class, I assign reading and research to be done during the week, and we have a quiz on Friday as a recap. We often have guest speakers speak to us about their experiences in the war. This class is very reflective, because we’re teaching history, but also current events at the same time. It’s a very unique and humbling class. Also, if your students ever report that I at times, lose my cool in this class, I ain’t gonna lie. It happens. I was a POW during the war against the Japanese, and as we know the Japanese are... a bit rough in the POW department. So, when we start getting close, I get a little antsy and the PTSD hits. But honestly, I’m pretty chill with grading. I’d rather the kids all focus their energy on the big classes, and then we can go from there. I’m always available for a quick chat after class or school to talk grades and ways they can improve their grades.” Sid said, walkig back and forth between the walls. “So, uhm. Yea. Any questions?”

“What division did you serve in?”

“175th Sniper Division, Marine Corp.” Sid answered, getting ready for the reaction.

“Oh. That POW.”

“Yup. That’s me.”

“Why are you teaching?”

“VA told me a civilian job will help get me grounded. The team here is great and helps me out when it’s needed. And well, I get to see combat occasionally with the whole being on a border line during a war thing, so that part is interesting when we get the occasional... visitor. Or vehicle through my goddamn window.” Sid said glancing over at the brand new wall.

“But yea. I do everything in my power to keep these guys safe. Myself and Rogers work great at a team and can generally keep all major attacks at bay before special forces can arrive.” Sid rambled on with a shrug. “Any other questions?” 

Nothing. “If y’all wanna bounce out early and get some coffee and snacks feel free to do so, we got like 5 minutes until next period.” Sid mumbled, and the two parents left.

“Okay, so about your ex-wife. You have primary custody, correct?” Sid asked, pulling his chair over and sitting in it backwards.

“Yes.”

“Okay. So, I’m gonna say it bluntly. Fuck what she thinks, she sees him every other weekend if I remember correctly. Also, Alex is 17. Legally, it’s up to him if he wants to do visitation at this point. He can put his money where his mouth is. It’s up to you to support him through this. Also, he still wants to join the Marines. I gotta say it. They still homophobic as hell. It’s not going to be easy. At least DADT is repelled, he got that at least. Hell, my wife and I got married because we were both gay, and that wasn’t enough for them. We finally decided that hell, let’s have a kid to shut them up. We both wanted kids down the line, why not try and do it the ol’ fashion way. I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, I appreciate it! I’m grateful for your perspective. I’d love to talk to you and your partner at some point and I don’t know. I just have been around any... gay people before and just, I want to be able to support Alex.”

“If you want to skip his next period class I have a break period.”

Mr. Jones glanced down at his scedule. “He has a study hall up next.”

Sid chucked his water bottle at the wall, and Mr. Jones looked at him confused. Jacob walke into the classroom annoyed. “What the hell do you want.” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hi.” He said with a grin. “This is Alex’s dad!”

“Did he...?” Jacob asked quietly.

“Yea. We were just talking about things, and he mentioned wanting to meet my partner so I summoned you.” Sid answered obnoxiously.

“One, how much coffee have you dranken? Two, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ll just start this out by saying, that for the next 15 minutes you’re free to ask any questions, we won’t judge you at all. We’ll correct you if you say something incorrectly, but it’s out of a place of respect.”

“You two don’t seem like the average... gay couple.” Mr. Jones said nervously.

“You never know who is gay. Usually, you think of the loud and proud type, because they stand out the most. The flamboyant ones, the feminine ones and the leather dads are what you think of because they’re the ones who are the loudest. It almost dismisses the average gay at times.” Jacob answered.

“What were your experiences when you were in high school?”

“OH BOY.” Sid answered with a laugh. “High school is one of the many reasons I drink. Let’s see, I was the Japanese speaking, ESL kid during the start of the tension between the U.S. and Japanese with a single teenage mom. Who also crushed on boys. In Texas.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yup. It wasn’t pretty. I dropped out at 16, got my GED, emancipated myself from my mom mutually and enlisted in the military at 17.” Sid answered. And then I got married at 19, after somebody called up anonymously and outed me.” 

“As for me, I just kept to myself. I think people knew before I knew. I never really had any issues growing up with it. But I also just stayed in the closet, considering I grew up in Little Italy in NYC. I’m amazed at how it is now. Being able to come out and be supported, hell being able to come out and not have to rely on little hints here and there.” Jacob answered with a shrug. “It’s a completely different ball game now.”

“Basically Alex is still Alex. Just be his father and you’ll be fine. When he brings home a boyfriend, support him too. The little gays need all the support they can get. And make sure you get the okay to talk about it to your family.” Sid answered.

Mr. Jones just nodded. “Thanks for this.”

“Not a problem.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“We met here. Walked in for day of work, saw home. Jaw dropped at how drop dead gorgeous he was, ruled him out of my league, apparently he saw the mental process because at that time I barely knew how to human being. Apparently Ms. Williams saw the entire process, she was my spotter in the 175th, and she told me I had a chance. From their it was a few months of friendship building and awkward flirting and all it took was me getting hit by a Humvee to confess his feelings for me.”

Jacob was beat red at that point. 

And then the bell rang. “Email me if you need anything, alright?” 

Nobody showed up to his Japanese I class for 4th period. “Have I mentioned how much I hate parent teacher night?” Sid asked, flopping on the couch. “Being the token gay teacher is exhausting. And why can’t I seem to pass the torch along to Mr. Flanagan? I don’t wanna.”

“Because you have a bad habit of giving a shit Sid.” Jacob said with a laugh. 

[damester13]

Entry #15 - (Leave) 09/13/19

In my entries about my college journey, Maybe I glossed them with too much of the good stuff in it. While all those good things actually happened to me, we all know by now that I have already lost all of those. No matter how much of good things they were, it's nothing but just memories now. So now I will detail my last few months in Cainta.

Last year's Christmas was probably the saddest of all 21 Christmases I've had. Ever since I stopped functioning during our Finals week, I've been skipping meals more intensely and Christmas Eve was no different. I also turned off all communications with other people for a while. My coping mechanism switch was lit green. I just didn't want to have to deal with anyone at that point. I was filled with shame and disappointment, that I feel like interacting with people will just force me to be "okay" temporarily. From there, I just wanted to give up, primarily my journey as a college student. But at this point, it's extremely petty of me to give up this early, right? Right. I needed an excuse to run in my head and in other people's, too. So why not apply for a LoA status for 1 sem and figure out where things will go from here? And I did just that, but not exactly.

To tell you the truth, there was some bits of geniune hope that my LoA period will bring some positive results. I intended to stay in Cavite for the full extent of my Leave for the change in environment, and plan to shift to Education course when I get back. Of course, my aunt didn't accept that at first, so I just had to make a compromise with her. I said that I'll spend my Leave considering my option to stay in Pol Sci as well. I never did it though, but I had to say it just so I will be allowed to push through. Again, Pol Sci is such a wonderful course. Unfortunately, it's not what's for me. From here on and out, somehow things didn't go as planned for me.

As I've said earlier, there was a glimmer of hope in this decision, but things went differently when it started to become busy at home. There was an ongoing construction for our new garage and my aunts were constantly going out to do whatever they were doing. Since the rest of the people apart from me and Lola were not at home during the day, I was very much needed to be at home all the time to "watch over" my lola and the construction workers in case they might need something. My plan to leave for Cavite was put on hold until the time came when I wasn't just up for it anymore. You see, even after the construction was over, we kept having visitors over and over again. I was a complete shut-in, so leaving my room with tons of visitors outside was a tightrope I'm not willing to walk on. It was just very hard for me to find a good chance to ask for permission and leave the house.

It kept going on and on like that until one day, I just woke up with not even a single pint of hope and positivity to be found in me. Along with that, any vision of a good future for me was also gone. I consider myself a positive thinker. Even with a bad coping mechanism when things fuck up, as long as I can see a chance for things to get better, I will find myself being okay one way or another. But now, everything is just dark. I cannot see anything at all. I kept telling myself, "Something was there before." But now, I can't even remember what it was anymore.

During these times, I kept going on and off with interacting with people. I am very much conflicted with how I view my friends at that point. I think they were just big distractions to me. All their happy, sad, or even random stories are just for me to temporarily forget my own reality. I committed to talk to these people when they need someone to talk to but it wasn't easy for me to listen to them without thinking of how unfair life is for me. Regardless, I remained as a "true" friend to them until the very end. I'm sorry.

The tables have turned completely and I just can't recognize my situation anymore. This wasn't how things are meant to go. Or perhaps, it was? At this point, it doesn't matter. Things have been going downhill for a long time now that it just feels like any bad thing that happens to me is just a part of an endless streak of unfortunate events. Somewhere along the line, I just decided to finally give up for real. 

I began my plan to officially drop out of college. I did say "plan" but given the lack of vision that I have, I really didn't have much apart from planning to permanently stay in Cavite. As for my primary "excuse", I just don't think I can pursue something that I have no motivation for. Me staying in UP will just be an utter waste of time and financial resources if this goes on. 

I asked several friends of mine for their opinions and advice regarding this decision because I recognize my state of mind isn't as optimal as it should be at that time. Their opinions varied quite a bit, but the bottom line of most of them was that "It's up to me." Personally, I dislike this a lot purely because I think I'm very much aware of that fact. I ask for people's take on my problem because I want to know what THEY want for me, what THEY think the better choice is for me. I ask those because those are the things that I do not know yet. Anyway, I still valued their words as I work my mind around things. Thank you.

Finally, with all these said and done, I still had to ask for my aunts' GO signal if I intend to push through this path. If our talk about my LoA ended up in a compromise, this time I cannot compromise anything anymore. I was going to keep convicing them until they're finally okay with it. But my emotions were the ones that gave up first. My aunts kept pushing for me to enroll the next semester even if I was already a week late in the enrollment period. Their persistence was just as I expected but hearing it directly iritated me so much that I just lashed out on them.

"You just don't understand me at all! At this point, I feel like I might end up killing myself someday!" I shouted.

That was the first time I ever mentioned that to anyone directly.

I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

My hands were shaking.

I wasn't able to talk.

I shed no tears but my heart was crying.

I realized that I was no longer capable of having a conversation with them so I stormed out of the room.

My legs were numb.

The numbness went all over my body.

I couldn't bend my knees at all.

I had to penguin-walk towards my room.

I fell on my bed without bending a single joint.

I felt weak.

This went on for at least 10 minutes until I finally calmed down.

That was my last conversation with them. 2 days later, I finally left the household and now I'm here in Cavite.

In the end, I committed a lot of mistakes yet again. I wasn't able to convince my aunts regarding my decision. I wasn't able to meet a couple of friends before I left for Cavite. I wasn't able to officially drop out and now I'm in an indefinite period of unofficial leave.

If this is a story of my greatest comeback of all time, oh how great that would be. But I don't want to stupidly believe in such unlikely thing. I'm sorry.

Extra stories:

For reference: I incurred an Academic Delinquency tag and was put on a Probationary status for not passing more than 50 percent of my total units in one sem. In that sem, I only passed 2 of my Japanese classes (obviously because of my prior background), and my Econ class because of a curve I think. Also, 1 of the Japanese classes isn't technically creditted to me since I already had 5 out of 6 cognate courses done in my curriculum.

For the record, I don't care about my grades as long as they're not failing. Maybe even if I fail a couple, I wouldn't mind. But what I do mind is the implication of the strings of failures especially when concentrated in one semester. It definitely tells something about me and my current path. I felt like I had to step back and I did, permanently.

While I was in UP processing my LoA application, I met a girl who was also settling her Academic Delinquency status. She was hospitalized during finals week resulting to her failing all her classes back then. I honestly felt much more disappointed in myself since she was still determined to keep pushing through even after such an inevitable setback. I hope she's getting closer to her finish line by now.

During my Leave, I intended to study and take the N4 level in JLPT which is the official examination to determine one's Japanese proficiency level. I did study "unorganizedly" for a few months, but eventually lost interest and gave up. I lost sight of whatever purpose there was for pursuing it. I just saw it as a way to distract myself.

[relatablyinsane-blog]

Quadpolar. Multipolar? That's Science right? (Part One)

Nope. Not really. But it definitely makes sense.

I guess we'll start with stats. I say this because I've been accused of "making up my mental illnesses" more times than i can count. I guess at this point you can decide for yourself. These are my diagnosed illnesses.

ADHD, diagnosed age 4, probably had it since i was a fetus with a fidget spinner.

Depression: Diagnosed age 16, had it since about age 12.

Anxiety: Diagnosed age 22. First panic attack at age 18.

Bipolar Disorder: Diagnosed age 25, can remember being a volatile mess since puberty but it really only escalated after age 19.

Before i get into this I do want to say one thing: as someone who has genuinely hidden all of this behind the fakest persona you can imagine her entire life (yes. I said it. I'm fake), putting all this out in the open is the most difficult thing I've ever done. I've acted fearless my whole life when I'm really afraid of everything. I've acted like nothing bothers me when i overthink everything. I have ALWAYS acted like I don't care what anyone thinks about me when really, I'm obsessed with other people's opinions of me.

So why do this?? I've been combative, have plenty of people who hate me, gotten into all sorts of fights, cared WAY too much about what people think of me and now I'm literally giving every single enemy i have all the ammunition they could ever possibly need to fire at me with. Why? Because this is who I am. I've spent my entire life trying to be someone I'm not, denying my flaws in public and feeling them so deeply in private, feeling guilty and ashamed, overcompensating for my lack of self esteem-- it's. Fucking. Exhausting. So I'm done. There is never any shame in being who you are. As shallow of a statement as it is: words are words, and (especially when you're me) there is always going to be someone who hates you. Exhausting yourself trying to be someone you're not will never be worth it. If someone is going to leave you, they will find a way. If someone wants to stay, they will find a way. You might as well let yourself feel the things you feel instead of putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping the damn thing around your own head. Alright, that's my motivational speech of the day.

The cool thing about having a bunch of disorders is that they all get along. Not with me, but with each other. I can genuinely say i feel about 3-5 major emotion shifts in a day and have had plenty of people comment on my erratic facebook statuses. "Why are you always complaining?" "Your mood swings are ridiculous," and, my personal favorite: "lol, you're so bipolar." YA THINK?

But honestly it hasnt always been this way. I guess before i start detailing my days I'll give you a little backstory about my life. I really don't talk about this to anyone except the people closest to me so, as i mentioned above, this is incredibly terrifying. Guess that's one thing you probably didn't know about me: I'm not so fearless after all.

Little Jay (yes I'm using pseudonyms in case this goes public) isn't very interesting until she moves to Maine in the 5th grade, but I suppose some details are important. I was vastly intelligent for my age but a total fucking nightmare where behavior was concerned. I started Kindergarten a gifted Montessori school back in New Jersey, after which I suppose the real trouble started. My devout, eager to impress mother enrolled me in first grade at a private Catholic school where I acted out to the point of ruin. I believe i lasted three months in the school before I was both expelled and elevated to the second grade all at once. How that makes sense, and how a first grader gets expelled (I can't remember but it was me + catholic school + strict rules so clearly a recipe for disaster) I will never know. Moving on to second through fourth grade in a public school, i was enrolled in COUNTLESS extracurricular activities to try to reign in my energy. Ballet (got kicked out), Karate (got kicked out), Irish stepdancing (stop fucking laughing. Oddly enough the Celts had a high tolerance for bullshit and kept me around until we moved), soccer (got kicked out after spurring a screaming match between my father and the coach), violin lessons and piano lessons (the only two that lasted most of my life although i had a revolving door of teachers.) As far as school, my grades were great but my behavior- PLOT TWIST- was not. I was skipping class because i was bored, hiding on the playground to avoid head count and causing a school lock down (my mom told me about that one), going to the nurse's office constantly (for attention? To skip class constantly? Beats me) and, of course, building a fantastic rapport with the principal.

In 4th grade i was the only student in the history of the primary school to ever be suspended. Three days for writing a very colorful letter to my awful teacher for taking away the stuffed animal that i brought to class every day to play with because my ADHD addled mind didn't want to focus on classwork. I didn't have friends in primary school. My mother constantly informed me that none of the other kids' parents wanted to invite me over or let their kid play with me because i was a "bad influence," and even my own high class New Jersey socialite relatives loathed my visits. I even ended up getting molested by a random older boy at the campground one summer, but it was brief and unscarring to tell the truth. What was cool though, is i NEVER remembered giving a shit. As far as i remember i had a great childhood. I went to summer camp every summer, even though i got kicked out of three before we found the right one. Oddly enough it ended up being a Christian camp, we sang Jesus songs twice a day, had a gospel story session, mostly did summer camp stuff, i fucking loved it. Go ahead and laugh. My parents bought me almost anything i wanted- a pool, a four wheeler, a three week trip to maine every summer, birthday parties where ponies COME TO OUR HOUSE- and nobody's opinion really mattered to me as far as i recall. I was on Ritalin for some of this, my first medication. My mom took me off it because she thought it turned me into a zombie.

My phone's about to die and the REAL fun begins in Grade 5 when my parents decide we're going to move 500 miles away to "start over," but that's in a couple hours. ;)

[janefaery]

Anonymous   said   :   what   do   you   believe   stands   between   you   and   complete   happiness?

Me.   “Well,   that’s   a   complicated   question,   isn’t   it?   I   mean,   complete   happiness…   is   that   even   realistic?”   A   laugh   to   hide   the   nervousness,   but   it   doesn’t   work,   the   fingers   twisting   together   in   front   of   her   dress   enough   of   a   tell   to   give   away   what   she   doesn’t   want   to   say.

What   stands   between   herself   and   complete   happiness   isn’t   a   complicated   question,   it’s   easy,   it’s   always   been   easy   because   it’s   always   been   her,   she’s   always   wanted   things   she   shouldn’t.

Have   you   met   me?

“I   mean,   everyone   has   different   things   that   make   them   happy,   right?   And   to   different   degrees.”   

But   it   wasn’t   about   what   made   everyone   happy,   Jane   knew   that   and   she   wasn’t   confused.   It   was   second   nature   to   do   this,   to   obscure,   to   deflect,   to   change   the   question   by   answering   one   slightly   similar.   She   could   make   herself   happy   in   small   degrees,   everyone   could,   everyone   had   little   things   that   they   enjoyed,   but   complete   happiness…   what   a   concept.   Could   someone   be   completely   happy?   Wasn’t   being   miserable   at   times   required   in   order   to   appreciate   your   happiness?

Baking   made   her   happy.   Cool,   breezy   days   with   flowers   coming   to   bloom.   Rainy   days   with   good   books   and   cups   of   warm   tea.   She   wanted   that   and   more,   she   wanted   someone   to   share   it   with.

But   not   just   a   friend,   never   just   a   friend.

People   had   different   aspirations,   they   wanted   to   grow   up   to   be   ship   captains   or   doctors   or   fashion   designers,   but   all   Jane   wanted   was   to   be   married,   to   not   be   alone.   Nine   or   nineteen,   the   age   didn’t   matter   because   the   urge   to   belong   didn’t   burn   away   with   extra   candles   on   the   birthday   cake.   

It   didn’t   have   to   be   a   wedding,   she   realized   that   over   the   years   because   there   was   more   than   one   way   to   mark   a   commitment,   not   everyone   wanted   to   be   married   and   Jane   could   respect   that.   It   didn’t   take   a   wedding   ring   to   make   emotions   real,   but   that   symbol   meant   something   to   her,   she   liked   symbols   more   than   the   ceremony.

It   wasn’t   the   wedding,   it   was   belonging,   it   was   being   with   someone,   and   what   an   old-fashioned,   sexist,   childish   dream.   Little   girls   dreamed   of   their   soulmate,   but   Jane   remained   obsessed   with   the   concept   long   after   everyone   else   outgrew   it   and   turned   to   thinking   about   what   they   were   going   to   be   known   for   and   what   they   would   accomplish.   Animal   sanctuaries   were   nice,   your   own   brand   of   hair   care   products   would   leave   a   lasting   mark,   who   didn’t   want   a   little   bit   of   prestige   and   to   make   a   name   for   themselves?   They   wanted   something   with   weight,   something   substantial   instead   of   a   symbol   proving   that   they   mattered   to   someone,   that   they   couldn’t   be   replaced   with   a   nameless   body   from   a   nightclub.

Jane   wasn’t   like   that,   she   knew   what   she   was   capable   of.   She   could   bake   a   dozen   cupcakes   for   a   bake   sale   and   be   congratulated   on   how   light   they   were,   she   could   plan   a   party   without   anything   going   wrong,   she   could   sing   without   worries   about   being   booed.   An   entire   life   spent   going   between   school   offices   and   helping   arrange   parties,   Jane   had   talents   and   skills   even   if   no   one   applauded   them   and   didn’t   need   an   award   to   know   it.   She   had   awards,   they   didn’t   make   her   happy,   they   just   gave   her   mother   something   to   show   off.

Her   speed   dial   was   nothing   but   teachers   from   school,   work   associates   and   officials   taking   the   spots   that   should   have   been   for   people   that   were   important   to   her   and   knew   her   as   more   than   their   boss’   daughter.   Social   interactions   were   business,   Jane   had   a   loyal   customer   discount   at   the   best   florist   around   and   the   honor   of   being   on   a   first   name   basis   with   the   owners   of   three   catering   companies,   working   and   networking   were   part   of   her   day   to   day   life,   it   was   her   only   life,   and   just   because   the   media   didn’t   cover   her   with   the   same   fervor   of   a   princess   didn’t   make   it   less   true.

None   of   that   mattered,   no   accomplishment   was   enough   to   buy   what   she   wanted   in   the   eyes   of   others,   of   her   mother.   You   worked,   you   were   professional,   you   were   business-like,   and   anything   else   was   a   disappointment   and   a   betrayal   to   every   woman   that   worked   against   sexism.

Did   you   want   to   set   women   back   a   decade?   Did   you   want   to   say   they   belonged   in   the   kitchen,   that   they   weren’t   good   for   anything   but   having   children   and   looking   pretty?   Of   course   not,   which   meant   shut   up   and   go   to   work,   don’t   be   disrespectful   to   all   the   progress   they’d   made,   don’t   be   such   a   victim   to   the   patriarchy.

Why   couldn’t   she   want   to   be   loved   and   support   women   being   independent   and   career-minded   while   wanting   a   relationship?   Why   couldn’t   she   be   soft   and   want   someone   to   hold   her   hand   without   being   told   it   made   her   weak?   When   did   romance   turn   into   a   dirty   concept   and   why   should   a   relationship   mean   you   weren’t   living   up   to   your   full   potential?

Who   had   the   right   to   decide   what   her   potential   was   and   when   it   was   wasted?

That   didn’t   need   to   be   answered   because   the   answer   didn’t   matter,   it   was   selfish   to   put   your   happiness   in   the   hands   of   another   person,   so   incredibly   fucking   cruel   to   try   forcing   someone   else   to   be   responsible   for   your   happiness.   

It   wasn’t   right   and   it   wasn’t   fair   and   that   wasn’t   Jane's   goal.   She   could   be   happy   baking   a   cake,   she   could   watch   a   sunset,   she   could   sing   little   lullabies   and   slice   her   sandwiches   into   triangles,   recreate   the   moments   of   her   childhood   that   made   her   feel   special   and   were   snatched   away   too   fast,   she   didn’t   need   another   person   to   do   that   for   her.

She   didn’t   necessarily   want   someone   to   do   it   for   her,   either,   she   just   wanted   someone   that   would   be   willing   to   hold   her   hand   during   it   and   wouldn’t   make   her   feel   defective   for   needing   to   be   treated   carefully   from   time   to   time.   What   a   joke,   to   think   standing   by   her   and   supporting   her   could   be      a   primary   goal   in   someone’s   life   when   there   were   so   many   other   things   they   could   be   busy   with,   their   own   success   would   be   their   drive   and   who   would   want   to   hold   a   crybaby’s   hand   instead?

What   a   rare   person   kept   Jane   from   feeling   like   she   was   a   waste   of   their   time   and   resources,   someone   that   could   look   at   her   and   Jane   didn’t   feel   like   she   was   found   wanting   in   some   way.   (Rare,   beautiful,   incapable   of   being   duplicated,   she   was   so,   so   grateful.)   It   wasn’t   what   Jane   expected   from   others   and   why   would   she?   

When   had   she   been   first   choice?   

Never.   

Folding   herself   up   smaller,   quietening   down   one   interest   and   looking   into   some   other   hobby,   Jane   didn’t   know   when   she’d   first   started   working   at   making   herself   into   the   kind   of   person   that   could   hold   someone   else’s   attention,   but   it   felt   like   she’d   been   trying   and   failing   at   it   her   entire   life.   A   little   origami   girl   meant   to   be   folded   up   into   a   star,   into   a   swan,   into   something   appealing,   but   keep   folding   and   you   have   a   ball   of   paper   meant   for   the   trash.

Summer   school   every   year,   extra   practice,   advanced   classes,   skipping   grades   would   have   been   so   easy   and   yet   she   wasn’t   good   enough   to   deserve   someone’s   full   attention.   She   was   a   commoner   in   a   school   of   royals,   subhuman   around   humans,   she   was   short,   she   was   chubby,   she   wasn’t   what   anyone   looked   for   or   wanted,   an   afterthought   to   be   dealt   with   after   the   social   interactions   someone   wanted   to   partake   in   actually   ended.

Jane   was   a   clipboard   with   a   voice,   the   shadow   in   the   corner   of   the   room   that   made   sure   that   things   worked   out,   she   wasn’t   a   person   and   according   to   her   mom,   the   mark   of   a   good   event   coordinator   was   that   they   didn’t   go   noticed.   They   made   things   come   together   for   other   people   and   didn’t   disturb   the   picture.

How   dare   Jane   ever   forget   she   was   a   background   character   in   every   story,   including   her   own.

Third   place,   twelfth   place,   tied   with   nameless   thousands   in   obscurity,   should   it   really   matter?   Shouldn’t   just   placing   be   enough   to   count   for   something   when   it   came   to   not   being   alone,   or   was   it   necessary   to   be   selfish   and   always   want   more,   more,   more,   to   not   only   demand,   but   plead   for   more   than   what   someone   was   willing   to   give?   All   that   happiness   she   had   for   happy   couples,   all   the   swooning   she   did   over   romantic   gestures,   it   only   lasted   for   so   long   before   turning   sharp   and   ugly,   envy   festering   inside   her   like   a   sickness   and   would   anything   ever   be   enough?   

You   couldn’t   make   someone   care,   but   you   could   push   them   away.

She’d   read   those   books   Silas   sent   and   what   was   she   supposed   to   learn   from   them?   There   was   more   than   one   type   of   love?   The   greeks   taught   her   that,   she   knew   that,   but   Jane   loved   books   and   even   those   had   a   lesson.

She   expected   too   much,   she   needed   to   stop   that,   stop   expecting   that   she   could   find   someone   that   would   put   her   as   first   in   their   life   because   what   were   the   odds   of   that?   Of   finding   your   perfect   match,   of   finding   a   soulmate,   a   true   love,   someone   that   would   choose   you   and   want   to   keep   choosing   you?   She   wasn’t   the   hero   in   a   story,   she   was   the   sidekick,   she   was   one   of   millions   of   people   and   logic   was   all   Jane   needed   to   know   that   she   wasn’t   going   to   be   the   person   someone   wanted   to   stick   to   when   there   were   so   many   other   options?   

They   called   it   ‘settling’   down   for   a   reason,   why   would   she   think   she   deserved   more   than   a   comfortable   ending,   if   that   much?   

She   knew   what   people   said,   that   if   you   wanted   more,   you   had   to   demand   more,   but   people   could   demand   water   in   the   desert   and   what   did   that   get   them   but   a   faster   death   from   spending   their   energy   shouting   at   empty   air?   If   you   wanted   to   have   high   standards,   you   needed   to   be   able   to   live   up   to   them   and   Jane   had   made   choices   that   removed   her   from   consideration.

She   wasn’t   respectable,   she   was   someone   that   went   against   her   mother,   she   was   used   goods   and   not   the   kind   of   match   that   a   good,   upstanding   family   would   want   for   their   child.   Jane   didn’t   even   believe   in   the   values   of   an   ‘upstanding’   auradon   family   anymore,   but   it   still   hurt   to   know   she   wouldn’t   be   good   enough,   that   she   would   be   considered   a   tarnish   on   a   family   name   for   more   than   one   reason.   Painful,   but   not   new,   not   a   surprise   because   the   world   always   fell   into   two   groups.   

Fae   or   Human.   Isle   or   Auradon.   Someone   pure   that   was   respectable   enough   to   be   kept,   and   someone   that   wasn’t   pure   and   would   only   be   taken   by   those   wanting   a   temporary   distraction.

Maybe   that’s   all   anyone   was,   just   a   temporary   distraction,   but   Jane   could   think   of   that   without   wanting   to   break   into   tears   and   be   swallowed   by   despair.   

It   wasn't   about   exclusivity   just   like   it   wasn’t   about   marriage,   she   wasn’t   that   selfish   because   she   knew   she   could   never   be   enough   for   a   person,   it   was   about   wanting   not   to   be   replaced,   it   was   about   commitment   and   wanting   to   be   kept   instead   of   discarded   like   trash,   but   that   was   such   an   extreme   hope,   wasn't   it?   She   remembered   being   younger,   wanting   a   boyfriend   and   wanting   to   scrub   off   all   her   skin,   hoping   that   maybe   if   she   dug   deep   enough,   she'd   find   that   internal   beauty   her   mother   was   always   talking   about,   but   what   was   the   use   when   the   other   kids   had   already   told   her   she   was   so   flawed   that   she   had   to   be   rotting   instead?   Part   human   and   part   fae,   not   enough   for   either,   you'd   think   she'd   be   used   to   it   by   now.

So   few   people   made   her   feel   wanted,   she   begged   for   those   scraps   of   attention   like   a   starved   dog,   kicked   and   still   coming   back   for   more.   Had   anyone   said   she   was   wanted,   or   had   she   simply   shown   up   and   begged   forgiveness   for   the   imposition,   wanting   a   corner   to   hover   in   while   she   longed   to   be   invited   to   sit   at   the   table   like   an   honoured   guest   instead   of   the   local   ghost?   So   eager   to   get   in,   so   eager   to   leave   before   she   could   be   tossed   out,   to   pretend   like   her   presence   could   have   been   sweet   since   it   was   short.   

I   want   you.   I   want   you   here.   You’re   welcome   here.   Those   words   would   be   like   bliss   for   what   they   implied   -   Inclusion,   a   place,   belonging,   because   it   all   circled   back   to   the   same   thing,   didn’t   it?   Being   allowed   to   exist   at   someone’s   side   and   not   having   to   fight   for   the   chance   to   be   important   enough   to   walk   behind   them   like   nothing   more   than   an   aide,   suffering   through   sleepless   nights   and   skipped   meals   just   to   prove   she   was   useful,   that   she   shouldn’t   be   replaced   for   at   least   one   more   day.

That   was   the   only   way   her   presence   ever   felt   like   it   counted,   if   she   worked   for   someone,   and   maybe   if   Jane   was   half   as   smart   as   her   grades   said   she   was,   Jane   would   accept   that   was   the   only   way   she   would   ever   be   wanted.

Boring,   bland   little   girl.   Plain   Jane,   how   many   times   did   she   hear   that   growing   up?   Why   would   anyone   stay   with   someone   that   was   like   stale   bread?   Nothing   interesting   and   exciting   to   see,   nothing   to   keep   someone’s   attention   if   she   ever   managed   to   catch   it,   just   a   way   to   pass   the   time,   a   convenient   port   when   there   wasn’t   anything   better   around.   

Respecting   yourself   and   holding   out   for   more   was   well   and   good   if   you   were   worth   something,   but   there   wasn’t   anything   to   gain.   There   were   easier   people   to   deal   with   that   could   hand   out   what   Jane   had   to   offer,   people   that   could   do   it   better,   so   playing   hard   to   get   wouldn’t   amount   to   anything   but   running   from   ghosts.   That   starving   dog   that   begged   for   scraps   wasn’t   in   a   position   to   turn   its   nose   up   and   wait   for   roast   beef,   squandering   your   choices   could   lead   to   starvation,   but   crumbs   gave   you   another   day.

Some   people   would   never   be   happy,   they   wouldn’t   let   themselves   be,   but   happiness   came   in   different   shapes   and   Jane’s   happiness   could   be   someone’s   idea   of   misery.   Fae   couldn’t   love   properly,   they   couldn’t   love   someone   right,   the   children   at   Jane’s   old   daycare   made   sure   she   knew   that,   they   taunted   her   for   thinking   she   could   be   the   princess   in   their   game,   for   daring   to   believe   with   a   child’s   innocence   that   she   could   be   someone’s   magical   kiss.

No   one   deserved   that,   to   waste   their   time   trying   to   love   someone   that   couldn’t   love   them   back   right   and   what   kind   of   person   would   Jane   be   to   curse   someone   to   be   with   her   like   that?   They   deserved   better   and   it   was   too   cruel   to   insist   someone   give   her   something   Jane   couldn’t   give   in   return.

She   thought   she   could   love.   She’d   never   said   it   to   anyone   and   no   one   said   it   to   Jane,   but   Jane   wanted   to   believe   that   maybe   one   day   it   could   happen,   that   she   could   love   and   be   loved,   that   in   a   world   where   magic   existed,   she   could   be   allowed   to   experience   it   at   least   once,   at   least   for   a   little   while.

Uma   once   mentioned   immortality   to   Jane,   a   concept   that   never   crossed   her   mind   before   and   hopefully   never   would   again.   She   wasn’t   going   to   live   forever,   the   idea   of   facing   the   ages   alone   was   abhorrent   and   Jane   recoiled   from   it   instinctively.   Things   could   kill   her,   she   could   be   murdered   or   she   could   grow   sick,   but   fading   away   from   loneliness   seemed   like   a   possibility,   or   dying   of   a   broken   heart.

If   she   ever   did   find   someone   to   love   and   be   loved   by,   her   life   would   end   with   theirs.   It   wasn’t   a   whimsy,   it   was   a   simple   fact,   a   conscious   decision   on   her   part   that   was   as   good   as   a   vow.   They   weren’t   for   everyone,   but   Jane   enjoyed   commitments   and   a   girl   that   longed   to   know   she   wasn’t   going   to   be   sent   away   wouldn’t   abandon   a   lover   for   eternity.

It   was   asking   too   much   of   her   to   experience   love   and   then   continue   on   without   them,   Jane   wouldn't   do   it,   refused   to   love   someone   and   then   let   them   go   just   because   one   lifespan   was   over.   She   wasn’t   going   to   move   on,   she   wasn’t   going   to   forget   them   or   replace   them,   how   could   anyone   expect   Jane   to   experience   that   joy   of   belonging   and   then   give   them   up   to   return   to   an   endless   expanse   of   time?

It   felt   like   abandoning   them   and   eternity   wasn’t   worth   it,   not   to   Jane.   She   would   choose   love   and   if   death   dared   take   them   from   her,   Jane   would   follow   them.   Her   love   would   be   eternal,   not   her   life   -   She   would   make   certain   of   it.

Damn   her   for   it   if   she   was   wrong,   but   belonging   somewhere   was   worth   dying   for   and   that   was   the   big   happiness   to   Jane,   that   grand   one   that   the   question   meant,   but   it   was   too   grand   for   her   and   Jane   needed   to   stop   expecting   so   much.   She   didn’t   deserve   it,      she   wouldn’t   feel   that   gnawing   hunger   inside   her   at   the   sight   of   people   around   her   benefiting   from   being   loved   if   she   was   a   good,   decent   person.   Envy   stole   away   her   grace,   left   her   longing   to   be   the   one   people   dreamed   about,   the   one   they   missed,   the   one   they   wanted   to   stay   with,   the   one   they   told   ‘come   with   me’,   but   that   wasn’t   her,   there   wasn’t   enough   to   her   to   grant   Jane   that   value.

Sucking   in   a   deep   breath,   Jane   held   it   for   a   count   of   five   and   then   released   it   slowly.   There   were   many   ways   she   could   answer   the   question   without   telling   the   truth,   evading   uncomfortable   truths   becoming   a   specialty,   but   this   felt   like   something   she   should   admit   to.

“Me.”   She   admitted   finally,   flattening   her   hands   against   her   stomach   to   cease   the   fidgeting   of   her   fingers.   “I’m   the   problem.   If   I   stop   expecting   so   much   and   stop   being   such   a   perfectionist,   maybe   then   I’ll   be   happy.   If   I   stop   being   so   envious   and   accept   what   I   have   instead   of   craving   more,   maybe   then.”

Because   in   the   end,   it   was   all   her   fault,   wasn’t   it?   She   always   did   something   wrong.

#rora sent me this question weeks ago and i finally finished answering it #warning it's like a 3k love letter to self hate and there's lowkey a suicide mention? #but probably not enough to tag for #⁕ do love a happy ending ⋯ [ answered ] #⁕ arc 03 ; kindness goodness magic ⋯ [ post canon ; main ] #⁕ believe in everything ⋯ [ inspo ]

[letsdruckskamgermannn-blog]

Episode 4 of Druck – The Party Is Over

Monday 9.38am

Mia: That is good

Sam: Hi

Amira: Hey girl. Do you know what Kiki wants from us?

Sam: No, I have no idea. You guys?

Hanna: It's already 10 past. I really like your jacket (to Sam)

Sam: Thank you. Girl, you slay.

Kiki: Girls, good that you are on time. Look what I have here. Primary shipping is so cool, yesterday ordered and today it arrived.

Sam: Thats nice.

Mia: What's that?

Kiki: Our outfits for the Heldenparty (hero party)

Hanna: Ohh, cool.

Mia: I thought you wanted to ask Leonie if she would give you another job.

Amira: Okay guys, let's get started. I have an exam later.

Kiki: So, I thought that maybe we would from now on get together regularly to plan, like two times a week.. or is that not enough?

Amira: Hey, slow down. We are just doing the supervision and that's it. What's there to plan?

Kiki: Why are you always so rude Amira? I think critique is really important but for real the sound makes the music!

Alright good, another topic. Uhmm, you all know Samuel right?

Sam: Toilette Sam

Kiki: yeah, did you know that he has a band? They organize a house party on friday and shoot their newest music video. The think is, they always have really hot girls in their videos.

Mia: And the girls can dance really sexy with their open mouths behind the hot boys?

Kiki: To dance really hot is also art! You are sometimes so sexist!

Mia: Me?

Kiki: So, how do we get to the party?

Mia: We?

Kiki: I'm not going there alone.

Mia: And why should I go to a misogynist party?

Amira: Well, I would like to go.

Sam: Me too!

Kiki: If we are a crew now and if the whole crew comes you have to come too.

Hanna: Well, Samuel follows me on Insta since the Vorfi.

Kiki: Cool, can you ask him if we can come too?

Hanna: Hello, I have a boyfriend. I can't just text him!

Amira: If you are in the future our access to parties you have to break up with your boyfriend!

Hanna: Ey!

Amira: So, in 3 minutes he will text you something rancid, like “hey, baby. You like what you see?” Then you can ask him. You don't have to marry him because of that.

So kids, Amira has to go. Politics is waiting. See you, ciao!

Thursday 17.18pm

Jonas: wow, are you Hanna Jung? The most beautiful woman in the world. I'd love to kiss you

Jonas&Hanna kissing

Hanna: Did I already tell you that Amira said that I should break up with you?

Jonas: Really? I don't really like your friends..

Hanna: Your fault.

Jonas: You wouldn't even be alright without me for a second

Hanna: That's what you think

Jonas: You know I'm right

Jonas: Sweet potatoes. Since I know these things, I really just eat sweet potatoes! I mean, why weren't there any before? Or these Vienna potatoes....

DM from Samuel on IG: You like my pics, you like my party? Take your girls with you, you just have to turn up decently

Hanna: What?

Jonas: What's going on?

Hanna: My dad was there

Jonas: Are you ashamed of me now or what?

Hanna: No. No, but you don't have to meet between doors now.

Don't be mad now.. After all you are my all time favorite sweet potato.

So now to the booze.. by the way, I'm going to a party with the girls

Jonas: At whose?

Hanna: A guy from grade 12. You wanna com too?

Jonas: Uh no, I'm already watching a japanese movie with Matteo

Hanna Sounds exciting

Jonas: It's gonna be it

Hanna: Yeah, I believe that

Jonas: It's about a guy who lives in a box

Hanna: Wow, in a box? What's he doing in the box?

Jonas: Okay, now it's enough

Hanna: Really? Is it really enough or is it going to be more funny?

Jonas: Now it's over, now it's over

Hanna: I'm not so sure. Is it a big or little box?

Jonas: I think a medium

Friday 3.09pm

*Sam rapping in German*

Sam: A real pity that you did not want to be in the shot! You look good today.

*2 missed calls from Jonas*

Sam: Do you smoke weed?

Hanna: No!

Sam: I do not get how one can smoke weed. You just get stupid and tired from it.

Hanna: At least from alcohol you get funny!

Sam: Cheers to that! And.. are you also in the preparation of the “Heldenparty”?

Hanna: Yes, but I'm not really involved in it.

Sam: Alex and I skipped our duty last year. We should be at the bar or some shit.. But I'm not making myself a fool for some dumbasses.

Hanna: Yeah, that's what I think too. That is such a dumb tradition! I don't want to fill up Lukas Schmeer's drink (I think that how is spelled)

Sam: Lukas Schmeer? How did your thoughts get to him?

Hanna: Hello, he sprayed SS on Mrs. Göh's car

Sam: Ahhh, so you are a political one? I did not know that. That's really good!

Sara: Dude just fuck off in the..

*Amira spills water in her face*

Sara: Are you crazy? Are you.. You stupid cunt, look how I look now!

Mia to Hanna: Come! Come!

In the bus:

Sam: Yo guys, I'm so whacked! *lays down*

Kiki: Can you tell me now what happened?

Amira: It doesn't matter what happened!

Mia: Now leave her alone

Kiki: Why? She cockblocked me so it is my right to know why! Sorry, maybe this is not political right, but..

Amira: The best sentences begin like that..

Kiki: Maybe you should go to parties like that if you are muslim!

Mia: What does that mean? Muslims can't go to parties or what?

Kiki: Yeah, you see what happened!

Amira: And,ciao!

Kiki: Well, that's true or not?

Hanna's phone: *4missed calls from Jonas*

You can watch the episode on Youtube (if you don’t live in Germany just download TunnelBear)

So I was really long on this episode alone, so it would be really nice of you guys, if you copy it and post it somewhere, a little credit would be really cool :) Thank you. AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. 

#DruckDieSerie #Druck #Skam #SkamGermany #DruckTranslations #GermanSkam #Translations #Episode 4

[mybrainwall-blog]

Relationships

Relationships are hard, some of the hardest things we have to navigate in our busy and changing lives. Yet unfortunately, a lack of relationships has a negative impact on our psychology as human beings, and so we must always have social contact wherever possible, to prevent us becoming- to use the common phrase- stir crazy.

The hardest thing about relationships is the words we say to each other. Sometimes, our words can cause hurt and upset. It may not be intentional, and it may not even be directed, but the things we say and the words we choose to use matter, because once we say them, we cannot take them back. 

This is what I’m struggling with currently. I’m sure my argument will seem silly in a week’s time, when this post finally comes out- that is why I tend to write them so far in advance, so that I can take my words back if I realise I don’t mean them. A lot can be said in the heat of the moment.

I want to talk a little about my school life and my relationships and character that I had back then. When I a little girl, my mother always told me to ‘treat other people as you would like to be treated’, and I use these words as gospel even to this day.

However, this may not have been in my favour when I was five years old. When people would say horrid things to me, I would cry, or I would ignore it, but either way, the bullies that plagued me at school found me an easy target, and I’ve recently discovered it is because I am too nice.

Modest, I know. But when my mother told me this, and I took it upon myself to uphold those words, I decided to smile and be nice to everyone. If someone told me I was ugly, I would feel the pain, but I wouldn’t retaliate. Instead, I’d dissolve into tears, or I’d ignore it and try to be nice, even try to be their friend. And unfortunately, I carried that attitude with me all the way through primary and secondary school, until I got to university.

This is where I decided to have a backbone- or at least, start. Moving to uni is a difficult experience, because you have to move away from your family, and into a flat with strangers that you didn’t pick, and try to get along with them. I was excited and nervous, and of course I was as nice to my stranger flatmates (all 14 of them) as I would be to any other person.

This was all well and good, until the flat divided into two camps. There were the nerdy lot- my lot- who wanted to study and work hard and get a good degree; and then there were the party lot, who wanted to achieve their 40% in their non-credited first year and have the full blown uni experience.

The nerdy lot went to all of their classes, ate healthily, and socialised politely together before going to their rooms and studying before bed. The party lot would skip their morning lectures, wake up at midday, consider their afternoon lectures, then skip them in favour of going out for coffee before coming back to the flat with ten strangers and party into the night.

Not only was this uncomfortable for us nerdy lot, who simply wanted to go to uni to get the degree- no-one asked me if I was OK with having these strangers in my flat- they frequently partied into the night and the early hours of the morning, playing their music so loudly that there was no way I could sleep.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it was once in a blue moon, but it was around 3 or 4 times a week. Some nights, I would leave my room- the only one of use nerdy lot who would, as my friends were all afraid of being bullied to say anything- to ask them politely if they could keep it down. It usually followed this script:

I’m really sorry, but it’s two in the morning and I have a 9am lecture that I need to be up for tomorrow. Could you possibly turn down the music so I can get some sleep?

The first time I said this, they turned the music down, only to gradually turn it back up over the hour or so that proceeded. The second time, they turned down the volume, then turned it straight back up even louder than it had been before the second I left the kitchen. The third time, and every time after that, they laughed in my face, or told me to fuck off. Then they’d raid the fridge for my food and eat it.

For some stupid reason, I didn’t stop being nice. Why on earth would they do what I wanted if I started acting like a psyco-bitch? The bullying got worse and worse, until one night, the girl at the head of the party lot decided to go full bully mode. She set herself up outside my bedroom door with a group of her friend, and bitched very loudly about everyone she didn’t like in the flat, and why. Most of it was about me.

After that, I was afraid to leave my room. I used to text my friends in the kitchen to see if it was OK to come make my dinner in peace, and whenever I went out of the flat, I would run from my bedroom door to the exit as fast as I could, head ducked down. 

They continued to keep me up at night. I continued to be polite and not say anything. I got very ill from lack of sleep, and my grades started to slip, and I still didn’t say anything.

Then, one night, I decided enough was enough. I didn’t have the courage to go out and speak to them as I once might have- understandably, I hope- so I called the senior resident of the block of flats at three in the morning, anonymously, to ask if he could come and break up the party. 

He came down to the flat three times. Once to ask them to keep the noise down, once to tell them to break up the party, and the last time to grant security entry to the building.

When I woke up next morning, after only four hours of sleep, I entered the kitchen to find the fridge door broken, having been smashed against the wall, and a big, sticky, alcoholic mess across the table where I now wanted to have breakfast.

I kept quiet and went about my business, keeping out of their way like I usually would. I went to my lectures, did some food shopping, and came back to hide in my room like usual. When I went in the kitchen for dinner, my friends were sat around the table chatting about the incident. They all looked up at me and stopped talking. One of the girls- the one who claimed to be my best friend- asked if I did it.

I told them no.

And they told me they knew it was me.

And then they started having a go at me. Bear in mind that every single one of these people had been feeling exactly the same as me, that one of those girls had been losing sleep not just over the parties, but over the loud noise of the sex that was going on in the room next door, and that every single one had said that they should be reported.

They abandoned me, because they knew that I wouldn’t fight against it, and because they would get bullied if they stood by me.

These two-faced people asked me to live with them the next year. I agreed, an they continued to treat me badly, but only because I let them. I never stood up for myself, and I never have, because I didn’t want people to be unkind to me the way I would have been if I have been unkind to them. I didn’t want them to treat me the way I should have treated them.

Over the last year, I have been training to teach. And believe me when I say that if there’s ever a job where you need to grow a backbone, it’s in the teaching career. You can’t lay a hand on a child anymore- physically or otherwise. You can’t even punish them. If a child is excluded, and they come onto school property, you have to let them sit in your lesson, and they cannot be forcibly removed from the school. The old punishments just don’t work anymore.

So you need to be assertive. And over the last year, my backbone has stiffened to enable me to not only handle the children in my class, but the people I have relationships with in my life.

Unfortunately, when you’ve spent your entire life letting people walk all over you, they’re quite affronted when you stand up and say your piece. So now I’m in a fight.

It’s OK though, because I know I’m in the right this time. I’ve taken a lot of crap for a lot of years, and I deserve to be spoken to with dignity and respect. Everyone does. And so from now on, I’m not going to be nice when someone else isn’t. I’m going to assert myself and tell them that it’s not on. I think, after all of these years, I deserve to be able to do that.

x   x   x

Thank you for reading this. It was a conglomeration of a lot of my feelings, and to be honest I’ve probably edited this a lot to make it sound less angry and bitter. I won’t use names, and I won’t go into specific about what is going on currently, because that isn’t right. But I urge any of you who are struggling with confidence or assertiveness to be brave and hang on in there. You’ll find a time when you can stand up and say ‘enough is enough’. Have courage, and be kind, and don’t let others make you feel inferior. You deserve respect and kindness as much as the next person.

Until Sunday.

[maleficentmisanthrope-blog]

Part 1 pardon my spelling and grammar

In my grade eleven year at my small town highschool I finally came out of my shell. By this time most of everyone knew I was gay. And it wasn't easy being the only out gay kid at the time. I suppose I was lucky to be this 6foot sum three hundred pound bear of a teen. I was verbally harassed constantly but I only ever have a few physical altercations. If they weren't harassing me about being gay the next best thing was my weight. So This isn't about me as much as it is about some of the things I experienced growing up gay in rural Ontario. This is in no way chronological I'm just writing about what feels right. At East Northumberland secondary school aka Enss their were obvious and typical cliques or niches in which the student body fell into. Today I will be talking about The Boyz, I don't mean the entire male portion of student's,rather I mean a group of popular guys at school referred to as the boyz. In my opinion most of them we're a rural variant of fuck boy not dissimilar for the hockey players portrayed in the crave show letterkenny. And should of the boyz happend to be my primary antagonist. In grade eleven a group of my acquaintances happend to take a flop class called living spaces, it was essentially home economics but abit more basic. In this class was a Island table wich me and my friendish people had claimed.it was away from the main group and much better that the plastic chairs and laminate desks. A pretty blond girl named Beth would always sit next to me with her boyfriend adjacent to her that on the other side of the table and her best friend Alyssa adjacent to me. It was and easy going group and they class work was easy. One day I noticed a boy named Adam who also happend to be one of the boyz staring in my direction.for the longest time I assumed that he was starring at Beth she even thought so when I brought it up until one day when Beth and her boyfriend skipped class. There I was sitting were I always did having a conversation with Alyssa when I Relised he was still starring. I instantly became nervous considering a handsome popular boy was staring. I wisperd to Alyssa to confirm whether he was scoping me out and to her surprised he was. I played it cool occasionally making eye contact. It was hard to tell weather this was flirtation or curiosity, I didn't hold back who I was anymore so perhaps he was just intrigued by me.for a week or so it went on me meeting his gaze and him non chalontly looking away. Unfortunately things even the little one's that can do wonders for Ur self esteem tend not to last. His buddy happend to catch us mid stair and prodded at him as to why he was looking at me pleany loud enough for a good portion of the class to hear. He the stated Much louder than needed "just looking at this faggot over there" a few in the class snickered others giving him disapproving looks. I ignored it but the next day he started to wink at me then smirk I refuses to take shit from him so I stood up and stated "what the fuck is your problem" which he replied "you". The tension in the room way palpable and I was expecting some kind of scrap. But the teacher quickly intervied Adam left the class and she insisted we talk after the bell,I told her all was fine and good and that I could Handel it myself.the point I confronted him was like a catalyst for my own torment. The fallowing months leading up to the end of the first semester were brutal it seemed like wherever I.was Adam and afew of His goon boyz were there to harass me. Like a flock of fucking crows cawing faggot this and fatass that. With the ocasanl body Chek into a locker. And due to the size of me it's hard to picture a one sided physical altercation. And I was use to that stereotype they put one because I'm a big angsty teen from a shit family situation. So I put up with it eventually becoming more reclusive and taking sanctuary in the art room. One day fairly close to the end of the semester I had to stay after school to paint a mural with the art club.so I did so and then went to my locker to gather this in that before catching the late buss. As I was shoving books and papers in their haphazard places a hand slams on the locker to the left of me. Although I was startled I didn't jump, as I looked to the left there be Adam leaning on the locker to my side with a cheeky smirk and two dagger like eyes. I don't speak and continue what I was doing, he eventually pipes up telling me in a snickering tone "you should really lose some weight" I stair daggers back at him giving my best apathetic zero fucks given face and onec again continue what I was doing. Another moment gose by and than another. Eventually he presses in closer and in a significant quieter voice propositions me to blow him in the bathroom. My heart jumped into my throat and what was only a few moments felt like an eternity, I can't quite recall what I said in response but it was something along the line of "go fuck yourself. After that I didn't see much of him.around a month later I was in second semester and entering into a new class it had plenty of familiar faces but non that were exactly friends. As soon as I walked in I sensed a tone in the room a few students including Adams friend nick and a girl named britlyn were conversing,Nick looked lost like a puppy. I new britlyn abit so I approached and asked what was up. Nick didn't seem in the mood to talk and walked to His desk however britlyn told me the whole story. It was about how Adam had a breakdown over break because he was gay. At first I felt abit vindicated but then I just felt sad I wish I had the opportunity to talk to him and to let him know that he's not alone, it wasn't clear weather he attempted suicide or not but whatever happend he went into care for atime, several of the boyz didn't know how to process it especially nick the thought of one of his best friends being gay boggled his mind. I tried to reach out to Adam over social media but never got a response, honestly he ghosted and it will always be abit of unfinished business that I have to live with. Their are rumours about him moving in with a lover in Toronto, it's hard to say whether their true I just hope he's OK.

#my story #lgbtq #gay #highschool #coming of age #unfinished business #blog