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 wanted to upload a picture (I like to promote natural products), but that requires posting by email, and the email address is no longer available in my email client's contact list, and I couldn't find it with by searching dreamwidth's FAQ, and I'm irritated that it takes so much effort and this is why I'm posting about it and I gave up.

I hate the way people communicate, I hate it beyond words. But I think I've figured something out. I was reading (with annoyance) one person's tangential response to another person when it occurred to me that this is how people keep conversations going. Instead of just answering the question directly like iconoclass, they tack some extra but unnecessary information on, stuff that others can ask about or expand on to have more to talk about. Even if I'm right, I still don't like this.

Sometimes when I have ideas like this I want to ask other people if the ideas are accurate. But I know that the workings of such matters seem super obvious to other people, and when people ask questions that seem super obvious, the askers are sometimes taken for trolls. Not being taken seriously really upsets me, so I don't chance it.

So for the millionth time someone said something only tangentially related to the discussion and for the millionth time I said that the comment was irrelevant, without much hope that the other person would understand that or even care. In fact, we've passed the point at which the other party tends to get angry or irritated with me, so I expect the conversation to end soon, possibly with an angry or hurtful comment that will make me feel terrible for a long time afterwards, unless of course I choose not to read it, as I often do nowadays even though doing so tends to churn my insides with wondering about what I missed.

Immediately after I responded, I looked back to my inbox and found a message from someone I'd agreed to chat with, someone who has a lot of politics in common with me, and something in me felt sick and withdrawing because talking to people seems so pointless. Never, ever, ever on the same wavelength. And similar politics don't ensure compatible personalities.

I keep looking at this from different angles, turning it around like a rubix cube, trying to figure out a way to think of it that isn't this self-defeating, but all I ever see are more downsides. But I kind of just don't care anymore, for lack of the energy required to keep caring. Sometimes I tell myself to not think so much and just dive in, then feel painfully upset with myself for trying again (particularly if something doesn't go the way I want). It's not a nice way to think towards myself, not a sensitive estimation of my behavior.

So I've decided to try treating my fatigue with yet more protein. I'm going full tilt this time and doing everything I can to get in that 1 gram per pound of body weight. To make room for these protein calories, I'm removing the last vestiges of the high carb diet I so prefer. My food stamp budget makes this high-protein diet more difficult to achieve than the caloric restriction does.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
In addition to not cycling, I skipped lifting today because the "hunger" was becoming too expensive (to support with protein bars). Maybe I should go back to cycling; I lifting is the culprit. This is just something I'm doing until my protein powder gets here.

I found a couple feminist organizations I'd like to volunteer at, but they're too far away. Actually, I couldn't afford the transportation even if they were in the next town over. Moving here is the mistake that keeps on taking.

So I was motivated after that to look up apartments on craigslist. I emailed the details to my VA social worker and asked that she or the housing coordinator call and inquire about them. Asking for something I know that I can/feel like I should do myself felt uncomfortable, but I know that I'm more likely to get the apartments if they make contact with the landlords, and I need respite from stressful phone conversations.

I didn't do much today and felt a bit regretful (not for today so much as for not having done much over the course of weeks), but I tried to be more gracious to myself given that I was working out some psychosocial stuff: feeling bored, down again about people being presumptuous and nasty to one another, and how I could deal with this, how I could be involved without going insane.

Was also concerned about navigating the social aspects of activism. Well, I'm just going to try to start off in an administrative role or something similarly non-social. I can't do tabling or leafletting; I'm too averse to conversation and too anxious about others' possible irritation at the intrusiveness of the latter.

I've always felt intruded upon when people extended pamphlets my way. But I don't have to feel that way; feeling intruded upon is about me than it's about them or their causes.

improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
I sometimes feel like a right fool for participating on WrongPlanet. There are some bizarre misunderstandings and I'm like, idiot, you are on a website full of people who have a communication disorder. However, I've nowhere else to go. Those misunderstandings aren't nearly as irritating as the enraging communication style that is prevalent on the normie forums. It's impossible to have a conversation on those.

I get to interact in a way that is mostly consistent with my neurodivergence exceptionality, but not so much my gifted exceptionality. It's frustrating and I don't know what to do about it. I sometimes feel as if I'm bursting with ideas but being dragged down by ignorance, and I'm almost paranoid that half of what I post goes undigested. That difficulty with back-and-forth conversation seems to extend to text in some cases. Or maybe not, I don't know what the problem is, but I know for sure that it is mostly distinct from the attempted mind-reading and social hierarchy games the normies play.

Where are my peers?

I gave up on trying to read through the text of all the propositions. I skimmed the last three or so. I just don't have the energy. People in the goddamned library playing movies aloud with no headphones on don't help. What are they thinking???
improperlyhuman: truck tipping over on the highway (tipping truck)
I was on the veteran's crisis chat a couple of months ago. I wasn't in crisis but I was upset about something. I ended up mentioning that I only socially interact online (in text) and that that resulted in a lot of misunderstandings. The counselor told me something that I have noticed people say (post, actually) several times before: that online conversation easily lends itself to misunderstandings.

When I came across idea before, I casually thought to myself, what are they talking about? If anything, it's easier. Since the crisis chat counselor told me that, however, I have been thinking about it more deeply. Why do people think online communication is easily misunderstood? I asked myself.

I see now that I was probably just thinking of myself when I thought that text-based communication is easier. Though it isn't easy for me to do so, I can imagine how text-based communication could be more difficult than a face-to-face talk (or even a phone conversation) for people who are not like me. I see body language, facial expressions, and tones of voice as largely extraneous information that gets in the way of the "real" communication, which is verbal communication. Other people probably see that stuff as integral, or even the most important part.  

So without those non-verbal elements on which to base interpretations of what people are really saying...they just invent interpretations? I don't know. The Trouble-With-Text hypothesis doesn't really answer why people think I've said things that I haven't said at all. I think the Desperately-Trying-to-Relate-Things-to-Their-Overly-Narrow-Life-Experience hypothesis probably provides the answer in most, if not all, of such cases.

Just across the street from the shelter, someone asked me if I had any cocaine. Yesterday, someone offered to sell me some "trees." I don't even know what that is.

I have all the food out of my locker now. Last night, someone stole the pomegranate fig bar I'd been saving for my late-night low blood sugar remedy. The night before that, the bag my food was in was ripped open. So now I'm planning to go get one of those metal lunchboxes so that I can lock my food up at night and not have to get up at 6:40 AM to prevent my food from being thrown away during the 7 AM purge. I will lock it up with my bike.

It rained yesterday and I made the mistake of staying at the shelter the whole day. The constant noise was disturbing. I also missed my case management appointment :( I was so frustrated with myself. I know that I need to write down spoken information, but I was so eager to get away from talking to the case manager that I didn't stop to do that.

I've discovered that I can stay asleep more easily if I go to bed a couple of hours or so before lights out (10 PM), but I still wake up in the middle of the night and can't fall back asleep until an hour or two before lights on at 6 AM. The night guard walks through the dorm singing out "Good Morning, ladies!" at lights on. Sooooooo annoying. Isn't turning the lights on enough to wake us up?

My bunkmate keeps putting her clothes on the chair I use to get on and off my bunk, and I keep asking her to take them off. So she takes the clothes off the seat of the chair and leaves the clothes hanging off the back of the chair.

The womyn's case manager has been saying that the place is a mess and looks we're in our own studios every single meeting, but my bunkmate still has her clothes lying around. And leaves her shit on top of my locker. And has a plastic Gatorade bottle that's been sitting on the floor for ages. She seems to have trouble with English. I wonder if it has occurred to her that the case manager is talking about her.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
I've noticed that the fatigue I experience begins to dissipate in the evening. For example, I felt very tired from waking to afternoon today, but now I feel almost normal. I wake up feeling unrefreshed and don't feel sleepy at night when I go to bed. It seems like a sign that I need to  stay up later and get up later. I'm going to try it.

My keyboards arrived today. I was disappointed. They fit on the keyboard tray just fine and were small enough for my hands, but the keys require an insane amount of force to press. I'd hoped against hope that this was an effect of newness and I could break them in, but communication with the seller confirmed that this was part of their design. Why would anyone create a "supermini" keyboard that requires more than the typical amount of typing force? Now I'll have to return them. I hate returning items by mail.

I think that I have figured out what it means when people call things "negative": it simply means that whatever they're calling negative makes them feel bad.

The meaning is simple, but the phrasing is pregnant. To say that x "is" something is to ascribe some state or quality to x. What has confused me on the occasions when people have accused me of saying something negative is this: I couldn't figure out what state or quality was being ascribed to what I'd said. Of course I could tell that the ascribed quality/state was (supposedly) undesirable, but I couldn't figure out why it was undesirable because I didn't know what it was.

But here's the thing: there was no "what," no specific state or quality inherent to what I'd said. The emotional reactions of the speakers were apparently projected onto what I'd said (and apparently projected onto me as well, since these people stopped talking to me) and the objection phrased accordingly; that is, instead of saying "this makes me feel bad," they said "there's something wrong with what you said." The former would have been perfectly transparent; the latter was not.

To me at least, distinguishing between wrongness and mere dislike is important.

I have in mind two occasions. The first was no big deal; mostly someone else contacting me. But I put effort into the second person against my better judgment (never again!), and that really made the whole episode upsetting. I've been upset about it for years; I was angry for years. Every time the memory crossed my mind, such a deep pitch black maelstrom of emotion clouded my mind, it seemed also to cloud my vision. I could form no coherent thoughts on the matter (and, in retrospect, that's probably why I could not get over it). I wondered that I could not even put it in this journal, but I see now that the lack of coherent thoughts left me with essentially nothing to post about it.

Now, I can see a little better; it is a thick gray rather than black. I was angry at myself. Aside from the fact that what she said to me took me quite by surprise (such surprises increase my anxiety because I know that I likely won't be able to predict and prevent them in the future), it's not easy to say why I have been so upset. There is just something profoundly upsetting about putting effort into people and having it go sour in a seemingly random, unexpected way. It's a powerlessness, I guess, and a profound disappointment; not so much a disappointment in any particular episode, but a sudden disappointment in the whole universe of possible interactions after it dawns that none of them are predictable, all of them could be like this one, and a massive psychological adjustment is necessary. I cannot do it justice with words. Yet.

But a great part of it (perhaps the greatest part) is that I did not listen to myself and stop the conversation when I should have. How many times have I wished with unspeakable bitterness that I'd simply stopped! Continuing was such a small thing, and I've certainly done worse, yet I've probably never regretted anything so dearly in my life. Nothing else I've ever done has had such an unbearable effect on me.

I'd decided not to trust myself, to try something new. I was not even terribly interested; I was happily absorbed in learning Japanese at the time, but I dragged myself out of my contentment and told myself that I would perhaps appreciate the fruits of my efforts in the future, that I need not content myself with so little. Fool I was. At least I have learned something crucial about myself.

This morning, I dreamt that I was going to marry Thom. A bunch of people were getting married at once, and we were in line. I'd apparently waited until the last minute to get my outfit together, and I left the line to go pick it out. I came back empty-handed, but Thom had something for me to wear; some unpleasant partially pink thing that had been folded into one of those dull pink cardboard cake boxes. I think she was wearing a pearl-colored tuxedo shirt and light-colored slacks.

Then the dream scene changed and I was at a couple of different elementary schools after school had let out. At the first one, I needed to use the restroom badly, and I was nervous about the people still on campus noticing me. I was hoping that I could pass for young (as I have before, albeit not that young). I went into a bathroom (happy that it hadn't yet been locked up), and began to use a urinal, but I had to go too badly to take the time for proper Stand2Pee form and ended up peeing all over the floor and my shorts.

Then I was out behind the second school, and the scene was rather bleak; a very overcast day on something that looked like a grey, damp, desolate beach in front of an old weathered dock made of very dark dying wood. I was waiting for a teacher there to grade something of mine. I stood off a distance, on a broad little mound of wet sand, while she scribbled on my paper. Either I'd completed the work in crayon or she was grading it in crayon. She was standing there looking down at the unfolded paper as a bit of wind whipped it and the ends of her hair about.

When she had finished, she set the paper down against a smaller mound of sand rather than handing it to me. Then she walked off. I went over to pick up the fluttering paper from the cold, gritty, hard-packed sand before it could be blown away, feeling vaguely upset about the way she'd returned it to me.

There is a rotting smell in the apartment, and I can't figure out where it's coming from.

I am after all tired at the customary time. Going to bed.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
Another day of bad fatigue. I tried eating some more and it didn't help. I finally ordered some vegan (I hope) Vitamin D3. I hope it gets here soon. Assuming D3 deficiency is even the problem. I finally decided to give up on trying to accomplish anything and went to take a nap. I woke up sweating and confused about where I was, even though I swear I hadn't even slept but was only dozing. I was trying something new with my diet today, but I won't be able to tell if it works or not until I get this fatigue fixed.

I think I've figured something out: high-carb diet is best suited to a cardio-based fitness plan, and high-protein, low–moderate carb diet is best suited to a strength-based fitness plan. I assume that's why I had no problems with my high-carb diet when I was doing lots of aerobics and lifting only sissy weights, yet had horrible hunger pangs once I'd begun to lift heavy.

Because I intend to continue with a primarily strength-based fitness plan, I should probably permanently shift to a higher-protein, moderate carb diet instead of going back to a high-carb diet once I'm done losing weight. Basically, I would have more lentils and less potatoes.

I can see that my body is adjusting to having more protein and less carbs, and I hope it will adjust further so that I can use the Ultimate Diet 2.0 (very low-carb diet) to lose the last few pounds of fat once I get back down to 110 lbs. or whatever my new can't-diet-any-lower weight is now that I have some muscle on me. I wish it were as easy for me to lose fat as it was to gain muscle.

I've been re-reading parts of the UD2 e-book, and it seems that I missed the warning that the diet should not be undertaken by people coming straight from a high-carb diet (which is exactly what I did when I tried it last winter). I assumed that I'd failed because hypoglycemia prevented me from eating a low-carb diet. This time, I intend to ease into the diet by progressively lowering carbs.

Since I hate it when people try to guess what I mean or assume I mean the worst possible thing, I try to give other people the benefit of the doubt and ask them what they mean (even if I'm fairly sure) when they say things that are ambiguous, nonsensical, or even just plain wrong.

Having put effort into this, it is incredibly disappointing and demotivating to have people assume that my questions mean that I just "don't get it." Like they are so clueless, they don't see that what they are saying is ambiguous, so they think I'm the clueless one for missing the one interpretation that they can see. It's pretty much the worst thing ever to have my cognitive ability underestimated because of someone else's stupidity. My efforts wasted.

In general, treating other people the way I want to be treated does not work. Other people do not want to be treated the way I want to be treated.
 
I still have some more grammar stuff to get my head around. I'm ready to be done learning to be an editor.

Maybe I will make another post later this evening. I can't get all the thoughts out of my head at the moment.

I have a workout in about a quarter of an hour, and I am not looking forward to it. Supposedly, lifting on an empty stomach can increase the amount of fat burned, so I'll be going into the workout with both fatigue and no food in me.

I've gone into workouts feeling like crap and ended up feeling fine, so I'm gonna give this a shot, but I'm not sure I have it in me to lift so much. I haven't yet dropped weights, but this may be the sort of situation in which that streak will end.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
Part of my QC job is to make sure that all of the text and audio items include a keyword. I've been scanning each piece of text for the keyword, then checking to make sure the audio matches the whole phrase. That first step takes just a bit of extra effort, but it adds up over the course of thousands of items.

I thought that I'd improve my productivity by writing a script to change the keyword color to red so that I could determine at a glance whether it was present. Well. Hours and hours later, I still can't get the script to work. I've finally got the right code, but I can't figure out how to get the browser to execute it more than once.

I actually started working on this days ago. I gave up repeatedly because I just didn't know enough of the language. I hate having to look up trifling stuff like syntax. I know the programming logic, and it's frustrating that it's not enough, that I have to know where periods and parentheses go.

This is why I'm not a good programmer. I focus on the logic and I'm good at the logic, but I'm bad at remembering the small but crucial details, the syntax. Programming apparently involves constantly looking shit up, and I've very little patience for that.

I guess technical editing really is the best career for me. I've been thinking that there was a programmer (that newfangled term, "developer," doesn't sit right with me) inside of me, but maybe I've just been kidding myself.

My hemp menstrual pads arrived today! My etsy purchases always arrive so quickly. The pads are absolutely gorgeous! By "gorgeous," I mean that they don't look toxic and synthetic. I took a picture, and I've just tried to use dreamwidth's complicated image upload utility, but it probably isn't going to work.

The nearest sports equipment store doesn't have any womyn's weightlifting shoes, so I'm going to have to go somewhere and do some shopping. Blechkt. Migraine waiting to happen. During yesterday's workout,  I elevated my heels with a couple of 5-lb. plates. Not the most comfortable thing to do with 70–80 lbs. on my back.

I think I've been undereating. I felt kind of weak/tired today and yesterday, but I thought it was lack of sleep. Pain in the ass. I forced myself away from my script to get some protein bars from the drugstore. They barely tasted like real food. Thank goodness I've lost my taste for them.

I've been looking at my blog posts and noticing that I put a lot of detail into them, to the point that I'm sure pretty much no one would want to bother to read them despite having a general interest in what I have to say. My poor memory for programming language syntax aside, I do focus on details quite a bit. And sometimes it seems like other people gloss over details too much.

But before I get into that, I want to say that I'm just a little bit more apprehensive about what I post in this journal after that e-mail from astramance. It had occurred to me in the past that people could get any number of wrong ideas out of any number of my blog posts, but that hadn't bothered me much (especially since almost no one reads it) because that's kind of par for the course with strangers. But astramance is not a stranger. Or is she?

Back to my example of glossing over details. In my response to the intern's e-mail, I expressed interest in the therapists she'd offered to refer me to. I also mentioned that I was especially interested in therapists who accept my insurance. In her reply, she only responded to that latter part, advising me to try a low-cost clinic and find therapists through Medi-cal, without referring me to any particular therapists at all. It took two more e-mails to get the referrals out of her.

I am sensitive to these kinds of communication fails. I've noticed that when I have disagreements with people, they often seem to continually ignore what I'm actually saying. They keep talking about x even though I keep trying to draw their attention to x.1 or x.2. The details matter, with me at least. I think it would most likely be rare for anyone to be able to accurately get any sort of feeling or impression about me or anything important I do or say from a non-detailed perspective.

All that time I spent fiddling around with scripts was time I'd hoped to spend working. I didn't meet my self-assigned minimum daily quota.

I'm fighting sleep again. It felt good to be in the programming flow again.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I'm done with rice. I had brown rice for lunch today (like I usually do), but I waited too long to eat and my blood sugar dropped. I don't want to deal with that anymore. I don't have blood sugar problems with potatoes and fruit, so I'm gonna stick with those.

Another month, another attempt at a raw vegan diet. Only about 50% raw, though; I'm still going to have oat bran and potatoes. I return armed with some new knowledge about the importance of eating fruit that is ripe.

No grocery shopping until food stamps get reinstated, however; as I feared, my case was cancelled. The invoice I sent must not have reached Social Services in time. So pointless to cancel food stamps over an invoice proving that I earned a measly two hundred and forty-five dollars last month! Obviously someone who reports having earned so little still needs food assistance, and there's certainly no reason to suspect that I earned more.

I was looking up some information about the raw vegan diet and came across a couple of bullshit articles. "I don't recommend raw vegan diets because many nutrients can't be absorbed from some raw vegetables." What?! So don't recommend eating those vegetables raw, or recommend getting those nutrients from other vegetables. Not to mention the fact that the bulk of the calories comes from fruit, not vegetables!

Then the article that just couldn't stick to the nutritional science and had to drift off into tangential criticism and empty rhetoric. Why can't people stick to main ideas? Can't they tell the difference between the fundamentals of a thing and the non-fundamentals? Why do they have to go at the people who promote the ideas? Who cares if there is a "cult of personality" (again with their endless hackneyed phrases)? Either it's a valid, workable idea or it isn't. It's all so tiresome.

So I closed the web pages in disgust and tried to read some more of Needful Things. Then a comment on one of the very few threads I follow arrived in my inbox. The thread was started by a twelve-year-old who asked for advice. A particularly mature-seeming twelve-year-old. The commenter talked down to her and went off on a tangent, admonishing her about some crap that she hadn't even said.

That was just too much for me. And this is why I am so utterly depressed this fine evening. This is the way life is going to be until I draw my last breath, isn't it? An endless stream of bullshit. People ignoring what other people say, write, or type and responding to whatever they have swirling around in their own minds.

I feel as if I am trapped in a madhouse.

I forced myself through a few short chapters of my novel. There was a section about the leader of a Baptist congregation refusing to listen to the leader of the local Catholic congregation, both congregations at odds over some matter of religion. It reminded me of times when I'd failed to get through to people and I couldn't go on. I can only do so much to get through to people. I'm not equipped to manage their preconceptions and emotional reactions. But I failed regardless.

The Tower of Babel, that really happened, or perhaps I should say that it continually happens. I say something I think is benign; another person finds it rude. I have little or no way to predict what is rude or inappropriate to that other person because we're strangers—I've no knowledge of the collection of personality traits and life experiences that form the foundation of the other person's idea of proper communication. And yet we are supposed to be neighbors, fellow citizens. The means of fellowship broken at a fundamental level: the level of communication.

Yet again, my next door neighbor interrupted my daily sunbathing/reading routine with a "buenos dias." Before that, one (or more) of his untold number of housemates came up and down the stairs a few times, in and out of the apartment. Each and every time, I stiffened inwardly, anxious and prepared to listen in case someone spoke. Cause if you don't hear when people speak, they sometimes don't say anything about it, don't give you a chance to explain yourself. They just assume that you are being an asshole and carry a grudge against you. So I have anxiety about not hearing people speak.

This has to end. I sit there wondering to myself how to say that I have an auditory processing deficit in Spanish. I sit there considering not coming out onto the balcony anymore.

I cannot take it any longer. I could not take it any longer. I ignored him. I said nothing. I kept my eyes trained on my book.

Maybe it's all me and my anxiety and my auditory issues. That's fine, I ain't mad at them. Maybe it's rude (whose idea of rude, though?!) to interrupt someone who appears to be reading. But this has to end. I'm anxious if I do, anxious if I don't, so I might as well do. End it, that is.

No me gusta hablar. That works, doesn't it? I kind of want to say that high school Spanish came in handy after all, but it's apparently the bit of high school Spanish I know that got them started talking to me in the first damned place.

Now I have to figure out a way to pick myself up for the rest of the day.

On the bright side, I'm handling the anxiety rather well. I never really lose it. I'm quite good at talking myself down. I won't let anyone drive me completely crazy.

improperlyhuman: black and white icon with text "if you identify with gender, you identify with patriarchy." (patriarchy)
I was on the edge, trying to ignore the sudden anxieties on a backdrop of repetitive rumination, struggling to concentrate on a FORTY minute video lecture on punctuation. Stanford course on scientific writing. The example sentence for dash usage was about Friedlander and colleagues implanting cells into the eyes of newborn mice.

It put me over. I rose my voice at the computer screen. What the hell. Friedlander et. al can take an axe to the shoulder blades. 

And maybe if I post this, I will have one less thing to tumble around my mind: Shortly after astramance and I broke up, I asked for apartment-finding advice online. In the post I was typing, I stated that I was single. Astramance apparently saw this and asked me how long I'd "felt" single. I didn't even know what that meant. I didn't know! I just said something like, "since this morning."

Months and months later, it occurred to me that she'd been asking me about my emotional attitude towards our relationship before the breakup. But that had nothing to do with what I'd been typing at the time! I was just letting people know that I'd be the only person moving into the apartment. I was relating a fact, and my feelings had nothing to do with it. The memory comes back to me every now and then, not quite as often as some other misunderstandings, but more than it should.

And this is my life. Is it just me? I have a new tag, just for this type of thing now.

I agreed with my VR counselor when he added communication disability to my file. Well, it's disabling, but I don't think there is anything seriously wrong with my communication skills. In fact, I think they are very good. I think other people are sloppy about the way they communicate and don't recognize it a lot of the time. And maybe even don't care.

I was excited to go to the library this afternoon, even more so when I came across a volume of previously unread works by H.G. Wells. This is something I've begun to simultaneously get myself out of the house and get some sunshine. Killing two pedestrians with one SUV. Half the people in there were chattering and I couldn't concentrate, so I put the book back on the shelf and left in defeat. I owe sixty-seven dollars in fines, so I couldn't even check out my find.
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