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Chores and things starting to pile up again. Trying to exercise again messed me up for two days, then I stayed up until AM last night, thinking that maybe I'd sleep better if I followed a more natural schedule. WRONG. I still woke up relatively early and was tired again today.

I signed up on a new freelancing platform, which is a pain in the ass, put I put some effort into it. Then I took a look at the job list and found that there were no jobs! I found about four jobs in the editing category, ranging from 3 months to 2 or 3 years old. All that work for nothing it seems. 

I found a university that explicitly directed freelance editors to contact them about listing on the website. I checked the list of editors and found that nearly all had advanced degrees in English or a related discipline. Not to mention way more editing experience than I have. Who in her right mind would choose me from this list? Pointless to even bother.

I emailed my housing representative about the landlord's failure to install a heater. No response. She's probably on another one of her monthly vacations or something.

I've got $256 coming in from my last job. I need to get my shit together and seize the opportunity to move away. A truck will cost me about $100.

Oooohhhh. I just found multiple 2-bedroom units available in my 2nd preferred town. Shit, it's in the next county so I'll have to get my housing voucher transferred. Crap, the only contact info is a phone number.

So exciting yet I'm already feeling down about not getting this. :*( It's so goddamned hard without a car, with Section 8, with no money, without being able to make a good impression on landlords. I don't like asking my vet social worker to help me but I don't want to risk losing this opportunity by trying to do things myself like I did last time.

I have to get the rugs steam cleaned when I move out of here. I can't afford that.

More ambivalent feelings about socializing. Someone who could have been a good match contacted me and we had some good conversations. I guess my profile screamed neurodivergent, which is what she was looking for. But I think she wasn't a vegan. Or a lesbian. And I couldn't afford to meet her in fleshspace even for friendship. So that was the end of that. I hardly even cared.

I thought that I should maybe deactivate my profile. Again lol. Don't want to waste people's time if I can't meet them and don't even care.

But the seeming lack of caring must just be...me accustomed to the way things are now: used to being alone and seeing socializing as not worth the trouble. But that attitude can change in the right circumstances. As frightening as it would be, I can feel more socially motivated. That's what I'm telling myself anyhow.

My book on inferior functions arrived yesterday. It's a bit wordy in the self-help genre way, but I'm enjoying it. I hope to get more insight into my inferior function so that whatever is happening with me won't feel so painful and awkward. I keep telling myself that it's ok to feel certain ways, but that isn't working; I still feel awful and not myself.

I should be going to bed.
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I made about $260 dollars yesterday and gave myself a mild headache (or, rather, staring at MS Word did) editing a research proposal for nearly 10 hours. I treated myself to some books to celebrate.

My goddamned Word Add-In left a shitload of highlighted words in the client's document. It looked chaotic. I thought the highlighting was supposed to be visible only while checking the document, not an actual change in formatting. I somehow didn't notice and returned the document to the client, who was confused. I tried to fix the document, but Word kept crashing, then I started to panic because I didn't want to make a poor showing for someone who was paying me so much, but the client said she could fix the colors herself. Whew.

She wouldn't allow me to use her paper in my portfolio, however. I wonder what the hell kind of confidentiality concerns a person could have about a damned social sciences research proposal.

My backbrush has been broken for weeks, and my back is getting filthy. I've been wanting to order a new brush from the same German company that manufactured my scrub brush and toilet bowl brush, but it costs over twenty dollars, twenty-six with shipping and handling. I only had $100 in checking. Thanks to this job, however, I'll be able to afford it. I'm happy.

The research described in the proposal was in part about decreasing racial discrimination against minorities on online freelancer platforms. Surprise! I was like, hey, this group of research subjects sounds familiar...

Then I read that some of the solutions considered involved somehow increasing the hire rate for racial minorities (not just stopping racial discrimination), and I wondered whether the client had hired me because of this.

When I submitted a proposal for this job, the rate tip feature suggested that I bid about $3.14 more than my usual hourly rate. I took a chance and did just that, so I earned my highest ever hourly rate on this job. I was surprised that I got hired (most clients don't even respond to my proposals, and my hourly rate is not low). These events made me wonder all the more whether I was an AA hire.

I don't think AA hiring is bad; it just makes me feel strange to be given opportunities that way.

I've found that the way to sleep restfully through the night is to take two sleeping pills. No fatigue or brain fog whatsoever today, despite my having stayed up until two A.M. working last night. I couldn't have gotten more than seven hours of sleep.

I do feel that my energy balance is still a bit delicate, so I'm taking it easy with chores. I'm hoping to ease back into exercising, starting with walking. I think I'll cancel my doctor's appointment.

One of the books I ordered is about managing "shadow functions," aka inferior functions (in Myers-Briggs terms). As I detailed in a recent post about my feelings about unity amongst people, my Fe seems to be making herself known, and I need to do something about it to manage the unpleasant emotions that are being stirred up.
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The shrink still up to b.s. Today there was a wicked long silence after I spoke during our session, so I asked whether she had anything to say. She said she hadn't wanted to interrupt me, so I said that I'd finished. Then she had to nerve to tell me I that wasn't finished speaking! The hell?

Still looking for emotions that aren't there as well. I told her that I was angry, but she kept looking. I bet if I lied and told her what she expected to hear, she'd believe me.

I showed my frustration but was in general hella chill about all this. I've begun, however, to consider leaving therapy. She's not helping me. I'm actually being hindered by having to field all her crap before we can get down to the actual issues I bring up. I'm doing a great job of identifying my own problems, and I'm starting to see the way to solve them as well, particularly with the reading I've been doing.

She seems to persist in the belief that I see her to have someone to talk to, despite my telling her multiple times that that isn't the case. So she sits there silently, offering me no solutions.

I bought some natural sleeping pills. They definitely help me to fall asleep, but the problem of waking up too early persists. So, rather than trying to force myself into a sleeping schedule, I'm just gonna stay up as long as I want and see if the resulting exhaustion helps me to sleep long enough. I always feel great in the evenings and want to stay up forever to accomplish all the things I couldn't do during the day.

I went back and read some of Jung's Psychological Types. I found it much more understandable this time. That lack of brain fog makes a helluva difference. So I decided that INTP fits me best. Maybe I shouldn't decide on the basis of what Jung wrote; INTP is, after all, a classification of Myers-Briggs, which is based on, but not identical to, Jung's typology. Eh whatevs.

I'm re-growing my duck tail, a bigger duck tail that will be a nice heavy braid (I hope). I cut off the little rat tail I had, which looked stupid because my hair back there was two different lengths.

I think I did something stupid in my mental haze the other day. I filled out a W-9 and gave the editing company my social security number. That wasn't safe. Well, at least my credit is already horrible, so they can't ruin it or get credit cards or whatever in my name. And maybe they are legit and just have shitty hiring practices. I guess I should call SSA. Shit. All this trouble because I'm having to work when I'm too ill to do so. Can't get unemployment and can't get SSDI. Trapped in the system.
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I'm trying to improve my sleep hygiene, but it seems that both the depth and duration of my sleep are worse than ever (or the same but previously unnoticed). I don't understand what is keeping me awake; I certainly have been feeling tired, and I haven't had much on my mind at bedtime.

Once again I feel more tired the second day after a weightlifting workout than the day after. At least I don't feel as tired as I have been feeling
; that tells me that pursuing light workouts is helpful. I really want some caffeine, but I'm concerned that it will disturb my sleep tonight. Anyways, I'm too tired to get up, shower, and get dressed, and, after having put off laundry for so long, I doubt that I have anything dry to wear anyhow.

I think it finally fully hit me today that everything social I've been doing or considering doing is but the means to an end that I can never reach. The most important thing in the world to me is social harmony, healthy societies. I won't ever be a part of one, so I'll basically need to spend the rest of my life being distracted from that need. How depressing. I've begun to wonder whether some of activities I do by myself are just ways to distract myself from this huge hole in my life. Reading romance novels, maybe.

I have shown evidence of this priority before. All the times I posted about ambivalence about looking for a girlfriend, I sub-consciously knew that I was trying to satisfy this broad social instinct with a one-on-one relationship.

I've sought small, cheap replacements for social satisfaction in online forums, but the online world merely reflects fleshspace in its social fragmentation and dysfunction. I found myself confused by the juxtaposition of the urge to participate and the frustration and disgust participation occasioned me. Today I figured out the disgust: Online forums don't necessarily operate as groups so much as they operate as information cannons that fire unwanted personal details at me. I read the threads for high-level ideas, not to hear about strangers marriages (yuck).

I never much cared for friends because the small group social environment, even moreso than the one-on-one relationship, is not nearly as important to me as the societal social environment. And groups of friends can't really replace a healthy society. I had the least interest in friends when I was younger, when I still had a (false) sense of social unity. I felt and feel drawn to anarchists, vegan, and feminists because those ideologies encompass the values I would like to see more or less reflected in society. I wouldn't care nearly as much if society weren't misogynistic, brutally violent, and opposed to freedom. Of course, those ideologies wouldn't exist if that were the case.

Friends, girlfriends, acquaintances, therapists, co-workers, activity partners, none of them can give me what I want the most. They aren't big enough to create a society in which people can live without fear of other society members. They can't provide freedom. They can't make sure everyone is treated fairly and properly integrated into the group and has enough to eat. They can't keep anyone from polluting the air, soil, and water. They can't make it safe to trust random people. The most they can be is an island in a hostile sea. That's not good enough for me. I feel entitled to more.

So that's it. I think something that's a bit of salt in the wound is the knowledge that some people actually expect society to improve. It won't, not significantly, not fundamentally.

I have said this before: switching my focus to smaller, more contained, more manageable aspects of my life (such as my "career") is a relief. That kind of stuff has a solution, more importantly, a solution I can manage more or less by myself. The sense of hopelessness about the global social situation comes from the knowledge that solving it requires so many people with so many differing and conflicting wants, needs, and perspectives to work together (this is part of the reason why I consider tribes the ideal human social structure). But improperlyhuman (and VoR) can improve my job situation. That's no big deal.

I wonder if the shrink will believe me if I tell her that this is my core problem. I fear that she won't. First we will have a conversation about her believing what I say about my motivations, and then I'll see if that seems to make her any more receptive.

All I can do is save up, move away, and donate my time to the causes. Horrible feeling of powerlessness.

I think all this became clear to me because I have thinking about the Social Instinct, the Instincts (social, sexual, and self-preservation) being a sort of typology often used in connection with the Enneagram to understand and describe personality.

Next time, I would like to post about perspectives I can take to make this less miserable, but I usually forget about such posting agendas I set for myself.
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I think that I'm an INTP. I've been suspecting this for a while, but I've been having difficulty grasping the functions (which would allow me to verify my type), so I've just been sort of ignoring the issue every time it comes to mind.

I keep scoring INTJ on tests (including the ones in books). I think the problem is that I score INTJ from a dichotomies perspective (I vs. E, N vs. S, etc.), but INTP from the perspective of cognitive functions (Ne vs. Ni, Te vs. Ti, etc.).

I've never strongly related to the supposed INTJ getting-things-doneness. I didn't notice that so much when I was younger because I was more productive and actually involved in accomplishing things. More recently, I considered that my lack of productivity (particularly professional/academic productivity, the dimension I notice as I contrast myself with other INTJs) was due to my being largely uninvested in the workings of this society/an anarchist (also the possibility of class privilege. oh, and I keep forgetting that I'm disabled!).

But now I see that I'm not terribly productive with my own hobbies. I care more about understanding than creating a product. I think the drive to produce explains why the INTJs seem more willing than I am to engage others (IRL) despite their introversion; they need to engage to produce, but I don't need to engage to understand. They seem more practical.

I kept telling myself that I wanted to be a computer programmer despite my disinclination to program outside of the structure of a course. (Part of the disconnect is that, starting at the intermediate level, the path of a programmer is learning by example and trial and error, which I dislike and find difficult.) I don't care about creating programs so much as I enjoy figuring out the logic of an algorithm. This accords with INTP descriptions.

I would like to purchase a copy of Introduction to Type (which was written by one of the creators of the MBTI). I hope that this book will give me the understanding of the theory I need to verify my type. It costs almost six dollars. I have eighty or ninety dollars. I shouldn't...

My fatigue today was worse than yesterday despite my being further removed from Sunday's workout. I had to have some caffeine. So now I won't be able to sleep.
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Don't think i'll be able to go a whole week without exercising. Maybe i'll try the bike tomorrow or just some walking. I wanted to do some chores today but forbore for fear of depleting myself.

Messaging people on OkC has become easier for me. I guess that's because I only message people I'm not really interested in. Those are the only people I come across. I guess anybody can send a quick greeting when there are no expectations.

I installed Qubes OS on my other partition because I got tired of fiddling with settings every single time I started up Tails OS. Qubes' security is based on applications running in separate VMs: something for which this laptop, with its measly 5 gigs of RAM, isn't well suited. I have to get used to seeing a list of VMs instead of application categories in the Applications menu.

The wind has been blowing wicked hard here for the past few days. The sound is rather pleasant.

I've come to see that I can stop freaking out about things so much by...just not focusing on them. The thought goes through my mind, and I don't follow up; I just let it go. Sometimes letting it go gives me the peace of mind to come back and consider it serenely (rather than anxiously).

Goodnight, John Boy :)
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I became angry this evening while I was sitting next to the highway outside the laundromat and waiting for my laundry to dry. It was a surprisingly oblique anger, something I cannot remember ever having experienced before, something I struggled to recognize as anger. I suppose that is because anger wasn't the primary emotion. The primary emotion seemed to be a kind of confused, scattered anxiety.

There was something mildly ominous about the way the thoughts snuck up, as through cracks in my mind, forming and playing out, seemingly without my control. Yet they were so similar in content to my by now typical anxious thoughts about what people think of me. It was as if part of me (the body, perhaps) was relaxed while another part (the mind?) seemed to gradually succumb to these bitter fantasies of others' thoughts and the attendant worries. But perhaps the succumbing was not so gradual, but only gradual entered my consciousness.

And then, as I sat wondering at these destructive and random ruminations, and perhaps still partially "asleep" in my relaxation, something began to seep upwards though the holes that had been created by the anxiety-provoking scenarios: the incoherent, foreign-seeming anger.

I wondered that I should be angry about things that had very likely never happened, thoughts people likely had not entertained. But those things were not what angered me. The anxiety angered me. The stress, the wondering, the worrying, the insecurity. The lack of a comfortable groove to fit into, the feeling distanced from everyone.

It's madness. I scarcely know these people. These awful thoughts come to me unbidden. The really absurd thing is that I don't, in a sense, much care about what they think. I drop down into sub-conscious worry out of a sub-conscious need to cover all the bases, to keep myself ahead of the game, in a favorable position. Something that's not always possible.

Just a thought, right? I needn't dwell on it. It's just that I'm usually more or less conscious of descending into anxious thoughts and feel that I am directing them, however unwillingly. But not this time. Strange. I was comfortable and in a content and thoughtful mood...then irritated. In between, a blurry transition that I didn't quite get a look at.

I'm listening to some Tony Bennett/Bill Evans recordings as I type this. Why do I say that; scarcely anyone knows who they are. I hate it when people name their favorite artists in their profiles (especially when the list of artists is long). I think to myself, don't you realize that there are a million different music artists, and a ton of people will not recognize anyone on your list?

Anyways, the recordings made me sad when I first put the music on. I've wanted to be a pianist my whole life. I asked my dad for piano lessons when I was young, surely no more than 8 or 9. Of course I never got the lessons. I remember strategically not asking for other things, vainly hoping that someone would notice and decide to apply the saved money to piano lessons. I wonder if any of them ever noticed when I was a "good kid."

Oh, yes. The symptom. Another of the symptoms the rheumatologist warned me about. I'd noticed it before but paid it little attention. Swollen joints. My ankles and my feet look swollen. I can't think of what may have caused them to swell. On one or two occasions, I've felt a strange, sharp, burning pain in my ankles. Last night, my right ankle fell asleep despite my not having it in a position favorable to falling asleep. I was simply sitting in this chair.

The swelling is subtle and unaccompanied by other physical symptoms; I struggled to feel confident that I was actually seeing swelling. Well, I took pictures on Obamaphone 2, so the doctor can decide.

I sat outside the laundromat for a while, and, staring at the cobbled pavement, visualized what would happen if I had lupus, got sicker, began to deteriorate on my way to dying. Such morbid shit is not uncommon with me.

I came across another good editing project based on Google Docs. So I finally got a Google account today. I signed up in the library. I had planned out a way to get around the phone verification, but I didn't need the plan. Though it did not work before, I signed up as a teenager and, as the online tip promised, was not asked to verify my account. I think a Google account that I created at the library's IP address, without my real name, age, country, or other identifying information attached, that I intend to use only through Tor, is a sufficiently safe setup.

Look at all this trifling bullshit I'm going on about. I'm in a strange mood this evening, I suppose.

Summer is here and it is a horror. The heat never lets up inside the apartment. I can't afford to run the air conditioning for very long, and it is during the day so hot outside that opening windows makes the apartment hotter if anything. That would all be endurable if only I could freely open the windows at night. But with nightfall a wild and alarming variety of insects show up at the windows. Unlike the increasingly common spiders, the small specimens cannot coexist peacefully, for they cease their mad whirling about the light fixtures as soon as I turn the lights off and begin to hop on and off my legs, preventing sleep.

The day before yesterday, I entertained my second large specimen, a creature I at first mistook for another unholy-sized cockroach. I was using the bathroom when she crawled in, huge and copper and attention-grabbing. My sounds of frustration morphed into sounds of disgust and horror as I saw her suddenly take flight just inside the bathroom door as she came towards me.

In the next hour or so I spent trying to catch her unharmed (her speed was not so hideously great as the giant cockroach's had been), I decided that she was some sort of beetle. Lacking the long, monstrously waving cockroach antennae, she was not so unpleasant to behold, and I noticed the richness of her copper color.

My diet is proceeding thus: I have (or rather, my metabolism has) reached the point at which I simply won't be bothered to eat so much, yet what I do eat seems, by the hunger pangs, insufficient.
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OkCupid is not the place to find butch lesbians. When the most attractive person you've come across is someone who has apparently medically transitioned, you know it's time to take a break. That made me feel really down :(

I've got some philosophy of science books I've been meaning to read. I know I'm going to have trouble focusing on them, however. That's ok. Everything's ok. I'll just read the sentences over and over again until they stick. Check out my life hacks.

Ah, summer. Spiders taking over the bedroom. I've never seen such clumsy spiders. One just fell off the little ledge of the runner that's at the base of my bedroom walls. The carpet is the perfect color for hiding the little brown bastards. One keeps running around me instead of going off into a corner like spiders normally do.

I'm halfway through The Haunting of Hill House and almost nothing has happened! The characters behave bizarrely, switching rapidly from laughter to terror.

I just had a thought: maybe part of the reason that I struggle to focus on reading is my relatively newfound lack of patience with bad writing. Most things I read are verbose, and it seems that quite a few authors are bad at explaining themselves. I'm probably picking up on this more now that I'm an editor.

I'm cleaning up the kitchen and bathroom much more often now! Good show, improperly. The next goal is keeping the bedroom clean. I always have books scattered all over the floor.

I've learned to pay little attention to people's dating advice/discussion online. I thought that people who are more experienced than me might have some good insight, but a lot of it doesn't apply to me. This is true of advice in general, actually. Even when people ask for advice, I see others not really advising on what's been asked about and instead projecting some shit on the asker and advising on that. Everybody seemingly just talking about themselves when you get down to it.

Oh shit, it's past midnight.

Another reason I stopped paying attention is that the behavior they talk about makes people in general seem awful. I can do without that.

When I have anxious thoughts about the impression I've made or will make, I tell myself that whatever I'm worrying about is ok. I mean that I think the words explicitly, in the moment, right after the worry enters my mind. It's such a simple thought, but it works.

It's ok to have misinterpreted that message as interest. It's ok that that person is slightly irritated with me. It's ok to contact people and get no response. Sometimes I'm kind of side-eyeing my oks, like "is that really ok?" Well, dammit, it has to be ok because the alternative is anxiety, and that's not ok.

You know, it's hard to have no primary relationship. But it's also ok to not have one.
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
I tried Red Bull again today and it helped my fatigue. I guess I just can't use it all the damned time.

Today I asked someone a diet question on Reddit and received a reasonable and respectful answer. <- That's me focusing on something positive.

I've reconsidered my diet because I'm afraid of losing muscle along with (or instead of!) fat. I think that a more modest caloric deficit would be better. Really, I'm flying blind here. I've requested some library books about bodybuilding, but what I really need is a trainer/coach.

In a way, however, it's kind of a relief to be unable to afford that; I can decisively give up on professional services without another thought. Like PDiddy said, more money, more problems.
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I keep finding these little itchy bumps on my body, and I still don't know what to make of them. They go away in a couple of days, then I find one or two more.

The apparent respite in my fatigue was short-lived. The weird thing is that I seem to be able to hold the fatigue at bay with exercise—workouts or chores—yet I begin to feel tired shortly after I stop.

I want to know what the hell is going on, and I have to wait two and a half weeks for my next rheumatology appointment.

Oh shit! Just remembered that I was supposed to go for a walk today. Well hell. I'm burning too many calories anyways, so missing one day won't really hurt me.

Today is only day 2 and I'm already ambivalent about this diet; it seems almost too much to endure what with the fatigue and all. I said the same damned thing the last time I tried to diet. Although I've tried this and found it didn't help, I still have the sense that eating more food would make me feel less tired.

And another thing...I don't really want to be thinner. I want it but it's not super important. I'm on this diet because I hate abandoning my goals. I don't like to give up. I don't know why sticking to a goal for its own sake seems so important. Kinda crazy, isn't it?

I put in a lot of work proposals today and it took so much effort. Can't work without energy and can't move away without money. I think that there is a chance that I'd miraculously get well if I moved away. Maybe I don't feel depressed because all the depression is in my body. If that's even possible.

I have continued to work by myself on psychosocial problems. Day before yesterday, I made a thread and once again had to abandon it due to unsupportable anger and frustration over one or two of the responses. This is a very obvious pattern and it's past time I examine it. Well, the result of my examination is quite ugly.

I decided this evening that there are two main phenomena at play in these situations: lack of social connection and frustrated entitlement.

The latter seems the less serious issue. No matter how nasty I see people get, no matter how foreign they seem, no matter how boring they are, I cling to the expectation of social interaction that is (as I've written in my little journal sitting here) smooth, respectful, focused, and enriching. So when the hiccups, the misunderstandings, the disagreements, the seemingly stupid questions and obvious observations, the assumptions, the derailments inevitably happen, I cannot endure these things.

I could probably learn to take these things. I could, for example, go back and force myself to read through that thread, telling myself that it's ok to be angry and frustrated but that these bumps aren't the end of the world.

Far more hopeless is my lifelong lack of social connection. I don't know whether I am missing something that other people have that attaches them to others or I'm just in the clutches of a lifelong habit. But I think that every time one of these unpleasant things happens, justified or not I see another nail in the coffin that holds my social life. I see another piece of evidence that I can never convince anyone of anything, can never have any but the most basic of my perspectives understood, can never be taken at face value, can never escape the random little moods and hangups of others (yuck). Can never be on the same page, ever.

But I don't really have adequate evidence of those things since I've begun coping with the emotions by abandoning my own discussions. There are some sixteen other responses that I've not even read because avoidance, withdrawal, giving up, forgetting the whole affair, seems the only way for me to modulate my emotional response. My response is always intense, but that's because, I think, I've little social experience to ground me enough to modulate the intensity.

In my family, there were no discussions. There was no talking through disagreements, no voicing my opinion. It was my dad's way or the highway. My dad lectured, and everyone else kept quiet and listened or risked a blow. So no grounding social experience in my childhood to show me that these disagreements and things were no big deal, no experience handling them properly.

Then I spent most of the rest of my life never really talking to anyone, and disagreeing and explaining even less, so no experience there. Very little experience seeing that the world wouldn't end over a disagreement. Very little experience feeling myself understood. Where those experiences should be, deep within me, supporting my current experiences from my core, there is a void.

The thing that makes this more hopeless than the sense of entitlement is the lack of an immediate solution. I can work on my entitlement right away (I think), but there is nothing I can do to make up for 36 years of barren social life. I can only try to create that life now. But it seems so late. And the only way to make it to those grounding social experiences is to pass the gatekeeper social experiences: the acquaintances, the getting-to-know you phase, the first dates, the uncertain approaches, the mis-steps, the randomness. All the things I hate the most about socializing. It seems so much work. And I'm not even sure that would fix the problem. And my motivation is somewhat lacking because I know from long experience that I can just go back to isolation and survive.

And this is why I'm literally tired of being alive. It must be taken one day at a time. Right now looking too far into the future is the way of hopelessness. I feel like I can't be normal enough to deal with the small, auxiliary social experiences until I get that one deep social experience, but I can't get the latter without putting up with the former. It's a circle with no opening through which I can comfortably insert myself. The only proper entry point is childhood, and that's over for me, so I've no choice but to do it the hard way.
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It doesn't work anymore. For example, I had two Peanut Toffee Buzz Clif Bars and half a Red Bull yesterday, and I was still hella tired. But I dragged myself up for that workout anyhow. I had a double dose of Vitamin D3 today. Still tired. I suppose Vitamin D3 doesn't work so fast that I'd notice it in a matter of hours anyhow.

Good news, though: My concentration has much improved. Racing, anxious thoughts have decreased somewhat. It seems I'm able to read a bit again, so I've ordered my next selection of old school lesbian fiction: The Haunting at Hill House.

I'm trying harder to save up to move away, so I'll be taking the shuttle to go grocery shopping. Yesterday in the shower I suddenly saw that I'd be better off saving up the money I spend on the taxi service for some good earphones. On second thought, I think the best are Bose, and they cost like three hundred dollars.

I told the shrink my concerns about delving into my dysfunctional childhood, and that dissipated my hesitation quite a bit. We talked about it and it wasn't as big of a deal as I'd feared, largely because we didn't go into detail. These books on the topic, I'm about through with them because I can't strongly relate. My childhood didn't mess me up so badly.

I coulda swore I just saw little stars swirling around out of the corner of my eye.

I eat so much nowadays, it is ridiculous. Wouldn't it be funny if I put on so much muscle that I couldn't comfortably feed myself on food stamps? Ha.

The shrink was surprised when I told her that my parents were criminals. I think she thought that I came from money, lol. She said that she imagined that my dad was a successful businessman and ran a traditional family. Nope. Long ways from traditional we were. My parents weren't even married.

I feel at peace today. I really decided to stop worrying about what I might be missing and how weird I might seem, it is really setting in. Thinking it was just the first step; I had to let it percolate in my sub-conscious a bit.

improperlyhuman: (Default)
Felt great today and thought that my fatigue is finally going away! I cleaned the apartment a bit and did some laundry. Then I suddenly began to feel very tired this evening around 6 PM while preparing for my walk.

I went outside to see if I could still manage the walk, but I felt heavy, brain-foggy, like a zombie. I had a bit of Red Bull, maybe 1/4 of a can, but it did not seem to help. Eating made me feel a bit better (I'm amazed at the number of calories I seem to be burning nowadays, and I'd undereaten I guess), but not awake enough to go out.

I wonder if this month's decrease in protein has anything to do with my fatigue. Did my feeling good today have anything to do with this being my day off from cycling? I need answers, dammit!

I'm never going to find a vegan girlfriend. For one thing, I won't move to a more populous region. I resent so much my inability to safely go out late at night on my own when I'm in more populated areas that I can't bear to live there even for the many benefits.

It's those goddamned young men; they make the whole damned world unsafe. Ruining my life. At the most random moments I get hit with memories of being harassed and it kills my mood, I have to put together some on-the-spot coping tactic. It's so unreal, sometimes it just stops me in my tracks.

On top of that, I would have to think about it every time I wanted to leave the house late and felt afraid to do so. EVERY DAMNED TIME. The constant reminder may be even worse than the actual possibility of meeting one of them. Here I don't have to think about going out in the middle of the night, even down unlit alleyways if I want.

Which reminds me of some comment somethingsaudade whatshername made on a livejournal entry of mine that I think was about being harassed as well. I was angry but tried to reply civilly, and eventually I came to see that was actually repressing my anger. I've forgotten the details now; something about me feeling bad just because of the situation I had gone through last summer when I was homeless. As if that wasn't enough by itself!

No, it was the entry in which I said I didn't really care about the men for whom the Black Lives Matter movement was created. Haven't changed my mind on that one. There's a helluva lot more to my attitude towards men than being harassed or the stress of homelessness. Most of it comes from shit that hasn't even happened to me. I can see how men treat my sisters and the whole goddamned world while we're at it. That's why I became a radical feminist, in fact. Not my personal experiences.

And straight up telling me how I feel on a blog in which I've repeatedly complained about people guessing at how I think and feel. Goddammit.

Anyways. Yeah, I will probably have to choose (if I get any choice at all) between dating a non-vegan or staying single for a very long time if not forever. But I can't do either. I will just have to focus on something else to stay sane.

In the more immediate future, I'm going to have to get a doctor's note because I cannot work. Frustrating that I'll have to wait at least 4 or 5 weeks. Shit! Just remembered that I have to get my blood drawn again. If my blood work shows normal D3 levels and I'm still tired, dammit, that's chronic fatigue. That got me on record with this same problem a few years back, and I got the same thing from records in the clinic before that and in my college medical records too probably!

So I ordered my medical records from UCSC and saw some things the doctor never mentioned to me. No one had told me that I was obese, but there it was in my records. I hadn't known that I was obese. Is that the right verb tense? I should know this.

I didn't know how to eat right back then and could have benefited from some nutritional advice. They sent me to the nutritionist for hypoglycemia but not for obesity.

I Might Be

May. 26th, 2017 11:22 pm
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
Maybe I'm uncomfortable in sit-down restaurants and prefer to eat at my computer rather than a table because my family never sat down at a table to eat together all at once. We didn't have regular mealtimes either.

Maybe I'm terrible at keeping an apartment clean because I never had to keep a home clean. I wasn't ever given chores as a child. No one ever taught me how to clean a place of dwelling.

Maybe I have a poor sense of time because I had no schedules at home while I was growing up. I remember having a 9 PM bedtime for a while when I started school, but that didn't endure. School was the only place I had to be, and I had to rely on other people to get me there. I wasn't allowed to walk or take the bus despite my wanting to do so. At school I relied on the bells and never paid attention to time.

People in my house often stayed up rather late. I could hear them as I lay in bed. There were no nighttime rituals, no baths or stories, nothing to get children ready for bed. Maybe that's why I've had insomnia on and off during my adult life. Maybe that's why I struggle to adapt to a new sleep/wake schedule.

These are the things I've come up with while going through It Ends With You: Grow Up and Out of Dysfunction, a self-help book for adult children of dysfunctional families. Not too bad, am I? I don't get into abusive relationships, I don't have low self-esteem, I don't "solve" interpersonal problems with yelling and violence, and I don't smoke weed and drink alcohol every night. Alas, some of my siblings did not fare so well :(

So I think I don't really need to re-visit all that childhood drama. The shrink keeps tryna take me back. I just need to use the alarm feature of my cellphone, practice minimalism, get myself a chore schedule, and make sure I rarely have to get up early for anything.

Hallelujah. Tomorrow is Saturday, my day off from spinning. Being on that bike is so boring. I can see those beautiful abs coming in...and I'm decreasing the calories again.

improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
Yay I got my Tantus Silk today. It's small (like d=3/4 inch) but it did not go in so easily. And I was worried that it was too short and narrow. It is neither.

I did not have any caffeine today, so I was tired for the whole day, albeit not as tired as I have been. I discovered that being excited without caffeine is much less intense both physically and mentally. I also discovered that I'm a much weaker lifter without caffeine. It's a freaking wonder drug.

I'm too tired to go into details, but I discovered that I may have been more affected by my dysfunctional childhood than I'd thought. That made me feel like crap. I feel like I don't have the energy, the will to live, to fix myself more than I am trying to do now.

But these traits I found aren't so terrible. I make too big a deal out of it perhaps. I'm just tired and easily upset at the prospect of yet another obstacle in my path to a girlfriend. But at least half the population of this country grew up in a dysfunctional family, so people can't be too damned picky, can they?

Oh! And I watched Batman vs. Superman throughout the day today. It wasn't as lame as I'd thought that it would be. And Superman wasn't as much of a fag as I'd expected. I've been avoiding Batman movies because Michael Keaton is The One True Batman and all these other Batmans make mad. But Ben Affleck wasn't too bad. George Clooney was probably terrible.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
Once again I spent half the day emotionally paralyzed because of therapy. I could barely talk while I was there, kept breaking up. Something keeps telling me to stop talking, stop going, stop seeking help from others, and I end up fighting it instead of being 100% engaged while I'm there.

The therapist doesn't say much so I made myself talk, however haltingly. On the first or second visit, I mentioned that my dad had criticized me sometimes, and today she said that she wanted to talk about that next time. These damned therapists always want to pin everything on a person's childhood. I am not gonna let that happen to me again. My dad didn't criticize me that often and I didn't really take the criticism to heart, so I don't think it had a terribly strong effect on me, but of course there's no way to communicate that experience to her. 

Anyways, I decided to explore on my own whether I'm still suffering significantly from my dysfunctional childhood. I got a book about it from the library. The book says to look for traits in myself that I may have gotten from my parents, but I'm wildly different than they are. Whatever is going on with me, being like mom or dad isn't it.

I'm observing myself very anxious and freaking out about the therapist assuming something about me or misinterpreting something I say. I guess I will just tell her next time.I got the appointment moved to Wednesdays so that the all-day upsetfest doesn't interfere with lifting.

After I told the therapist that I didn't want to get to know a bunch of random people, it occurred to me that there is kind of a desperate quality to my social ambitions. I suppose that with no solid base of social support (friends/family), my priority must be to get some: an intimate relationship. I have known for some time that I might become more interested in friends after I had that primary relationship, but never thought much on why aside from my lifelong social disinterest and low social energy. Maybe I just don't want to waste time with friends because I know that that sort of relationship won't address what's missing.

During my walk this evening I started to wonder if I should go along with the therapist's plan to talk about my dad's criticism. I would have to tell her that I've reconsidered. Doing that really bothers me but I don't know why. Although I became very upset when she said that I looked depressed during our first visit, I reconsidered and decided that I I may have some sub-clinical depression. I thought that I should tell her that, but the prospect of doing so bothered me, and I don't know why.

I felt a bit less fatigued today.

I don't know if I have it in me to shoulder all this. I'm just tired of living improperlyhuman's life.

And I DO NOT want to be an editor.

I read something from another person who is Type 5. She said that it's important for Type 5s confidence and feelings of mastery to have jobs with clearcut...something, I can't remember. Well, editing isn't clearcut, like I've complained about before. Reading this was just more evidence that I should abandon ship.

I don't know if I should go through with the certificate anyways though. I don't know what to do. Good thing I haven't submitted the enrollment form yet. I guess I should first explore alternative careers. I'm gonna feel like an idiot if I decide to ask my voc rehab counselor to change my employment plan.
improperlyhuman: (not queer)
I forgot. When I was called back into the doctor's office yesterday, the admitting person asked me if an interpreter were coming. I said, "I speak English," but she was talking about an interpreter for hearing impairment. Somehow she had misinterpreted the auditory processing deficit in my records as a hearing impairment. I said that I could hear fine and she told someone at the front desk to send away whatever interpreter showed up.

Fatigue so bad today that I couldn't lift. I could have forced myself but I feared dropping the weights. Normally I feel better in the evenings but not so much today.

I was at the bus stop (was it yesterday? fatigue has killed my memory) thinking about talking to someone and using a bit of AAVE when it occurred to me that I am no longer so uncomfortable with AAVE. I used to have a small complex about it because my family made a big deal about the way I spoke. Of course this isn't going to have any huge effect on the way I speak because my speaking patterns are quite set at this point.

I went to fill out the enrollment form and found out that the summer session of my certificate course is full. I won't be able to start until fall. That's probably a good thing considering my current state of health.

I have been able to concentrate a bit more this week. I have been doing some light reading, reading about the Enneagram. I prefer to focus on the Enneagram at this point because it's easier for me to understand than Myers Briggs and seems more helpful. I can't really relate to the other INTJs on the forum. Actually I guess I don't much relate to the other type 5s either...

Anyways, I have been learning about the Instinctual Subtypes, and I think mine is Social (so). According to Chestnut, the type 5 so is characterized by relating to people through intellectual values/ideals and disinterest/disengagement with "ordinary" people and aspects of life. Those are the aspects that at least vaguely resemble my personality, anyhow.  

Yes, I'm willing to date a vegan only, and I'd only be willing to date someone who is also a feminist and an anarchist as well if I thought that I stood any chance of finding someone with that holy trinity of values. And I feel that relating to non-vegans, non-anarchists, and non-radical feminists is difficult and undesirable. That seems to be how Type 5 so manifests in me.

Of course that exclusivity creates social difficulties, but I don't think it's wrong, not in the case of my ideals anyway. These aren't just ideas, they're material practices related to the prevention of suffering. Extremely important no matter how one looks at it, and they don't totally prevent social connection.

I'm sure, however, that even the vegans and anarchists and radical feminists who feel the same way generally relate to people better than I do. There are vegans dating non-vegans, and I have trouble imagining how they (the former) can stand it. Maybe it's that emotional connection that keeps on coming up in the books. I'm not sure that I want such a thing if it attaches me to people whose political differences are going to frustrate me. Chestnut also advises Type 5s to remind ourselves of the benefits of emotional connection, even if we don't believe there are any, lol. I'm like, how are we going to remind ourselves then?

I keep looking into this emotional intimacy thing, and I never see anything positive about it. I don't and never have had a problem communicating my emotions when necessary and beneficial. I just don't view sharing emotions as a type of intimacy. It can be a useful act when there is a problem in a relationship (albeit not as efficient as simply telling the other party what one wants her to do), and a pleasant thing to share when one is happy, but that's pretty much all it is to me.

I'm sitting here trying to think of what else it could be. A few times in my life, I've had pleasant experiences sharing things I liked because the other party was also enthusiastic about them. Of course that rarely happened, and isn't likely to happen very often because of the nature of my interests. My most common interests are the ones I'm least passionate about. Now if I find a vegan girlfriend, would sharing veganism constitue emotional intimacy? I don't think so. It's mostly about my own damned feelings of relief and...I dunno, I wanna say safety but that doesn't seem to make sense. I guess safety from exposure to speciesism in an intimate relationship.

Anyways maybe the Instinctual Subtype system isn't terribly useful. I'm just checking it out right now.

improperlyhuman: Burgendy text on black background: "Promoting Commodified Sex Positive Is Not Sex Positive" (pic#8372521)
At least, I think I do. The core issue seems to be discomfort with the female gender role. I know all about that. Whether the coping tactic is gender non-conformity/radical feminism or queer theory/tumblr identities/trans trending, the core issue is the same (in some cases at least). And I'm looking at these womyn and I'm seeing that many of them are so young. And I'm looking on Youtube and I'm seeing grown ass adults calling Milo whatshername misogynistic slurs and I'm a little afraid for these youngsters.

So I'm not gonna make fun of the queer young females any more. Not that I ever really did hardcore. I just made...I guess mildly derisive remarks. Like I guess "tumblr identities" falls into the derisive remarks category, doesn't it? And I'm probably gonna change that "queer nonsense" tag to something more palatable; to what, I don't know. Not that I believe many people will ever see it; I just like to be consistent.

Anyways, I'm over it. I own my frustration and repulsion with the misogynistic and unrealistic ideology behind some of it. That's all me; that's not them.

Goddamned therapist cancelled on me at the last minute and had the appointment time wrong! The appointment was supposed to be today; I clearly asked her to change the time to Wednesdays last week. She called me yesterday, Tuesday, saying that she wouldn't be available for our Tuesday appointment.

She did seem disorganized the first two sessions, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And what choice do I have? No other therapist in town.

I was disappointed. I have to say things like this to myself because I guess I tend to be only vaguely aware of my emotions. Well, that's not so true in the past 5–10 years, but that's because they started to take over. That's why I was so uncontrollably angry for so long: I had no idea how to discharge the anger. I still don't! I heard tell that people should talk to other people about their emotions, but I sort of rejected that as not applicable to me because talking to people about my emotions has never felt good. But maybe it works some magic other than making one feel good...The magic called resolution. Ooooooh. I dunno.

lol I was just about to tag this post "queer nonsense." fail.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I have been so repulsed by others' behavior and so hellbent on distancing myself from it that I have perhaps taken this neurodivergence narrative too far. Some of those differences, I think, are just personality differences. It seems that the spectrum of personality is wider than I imagined. Again. And really, how much difference can an auditory disability make?

I think I have observed myself a few times struggling to categorize people to the point of borderline stereotyping. This is a sad state of affairs, not who I am at all. But if they break your bones enough times, the bones will never heal properly. It is the fear, the fatigue, the half-mindless struggle to escape the surprises. I don't want any more surprises. I can hardly take any more surprises. And the wondering, my goodness.

Speaking of wondering. Something hit me today. I was thinking again of how much of what people post makes no sense to me. For example, we were discussing detachment from emotions (enneagram type 5 holla), and someone said that she shifts from experiencing her emotions subjectively to observing them rationally or something like that.

In my mind, specifying an adjective ("subjective") implies that there is some other way to experience one's emotions. But, of course, there isn't.
Feeling emotions is an inherently subjective experience. So I had no idea what she meant, and my request for clarification was fruitless because she just posted some more ambiguous and apparently irrelevant words.

So this was the latest episode of meaningless crap that was on my mind when it suddenly hit me that people aren't using words literally as often as I'm taking them literally. And, perhaps more importantly, they aren't using words precisely as often as I'm trying to zero in on the definition at play. They are relying on connotations to convey meaning.

This of course is a terrible idea in the context of a worldwide audience. But hey, I've already said it a million times before. I hate the way people communicate. 

I was fretting about my ability to get this hypothesis validated when I remembered that I have a trustworthy party to turn to now! My therapist. The only (potential) problem is that people sometimes can't see phenomena that are deeply embedded in their lives. Even if I'm on to something, she may be more or less blind to it.

Sudden fatigue again today. I'd been toying with the idea of skipping that rheumatology appointment, but I really need to go. How will I get there and back, that's the question. Today I found out that I have only $35 in my checking account. The appointment is next Thursday, the same day that loudmouth guy takes the bus home in the evenings. But I don't have enough taxi scrip to take a taxi there and back. This is what friends are for, isn't it!
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I've been having trouble with my deadlift for the past three or four weeks. I was working on my form this evening when I suddenly lost muscle memory and just couldn't physically figure out how to lift the weight off the floor. It was strange, particularly since the deadlift is (was?) my favorite lift.

Squats are going great though! 115 lbs. today.

The amount of fat in my diet has always been quite low, but I've become concerned that it's too low. I bought some olive oil and use a little to roast my potatoes and broccoli.

I was looking through craigslist for entertainment when I came across the post of an incarcerated womon who wants a penpal. Maybe I'll be her penpal. Could be interesting. I would, however, prefer to keep my address a secret. There's a website to sign up on. I'll check it out tomorrow.

Is there a difference between loneliness and boredom? I feel boredom, I feel lust, I feel a need for physical contact. But I wouldn't call any of those things loneliness. I don't think I feel lonely, but I think of loneliness as something rather specific.

Finally mailed my signature off to voc rehab today.

There's gonna be a circus in town this weekend and I wanted to protest it but I don't have any vegans to protest with me! And I'm not sure non-animals will be exploited there anyhow. I just saw animals on the poster.

improperlyhuman: (Default)
That therapy messed me up and I don't even know how because I haven't been thinking about what we talked about or what happened. I still feel terrible and have even been thinking about suicide. I'm exhausting myself with my own emotions.

Just keep plodding on, day by day iconoclass.

Well my new VA housing coordinator finally contacted me about finding a new apartment. But I can no longer afford a moving truck. Ha.

Oh yeah, so feeling like an idiot. Shit everything always sounds better in my mind than it sounds typed up. What if I feel out of step with people just because I'm late to the game? I mean not socializing when I was young. What if it's not so much my personality, whatever problems I have with my brain, just under-maturation, lack of experience in the social realm? And I just missed out so much that I can't catch up. And I'm still missing out.

Eh whatever. No point in speculating I guess.
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