Category: Real Life

Apparently I pressed the wrong button and failed to save about a page of writing that I’d just typed up.

I wrote that I had a pretty quiet weekend. I helped with Noir’s setup and teardown, though I didn’t attend the event. I wasn’t really up for socializing in a loud place. I also skipped the socializing at Starlit citadel’s open house on Saturday, though I don’t have a good reason for that.

Got home around midmorning, and mid-afternoon I got a text from someone asking me to help with some community drama. I also found out that my plans with Dimestore, which had been postponed, were officially cancelled.
I was asked to take sides in an argument that I didn’t have the details of, so I tried to just squash the jerks and leave the rest of it for later. At some point, I’d like to talk to the people who have a clue, so I know what the logical next step is.
Tomorrow, I’ve got to get up early for an ultrasound, checking on my liver.

So, I’m definitely thinking about buying a Raspberry PI.
They’re pretty cheap, pretty interesting to work on, and surprisingly powerful now.
Also tiny. 85.60mm x 56mm x 21mm.
I’ll need to build/find a case for it. I’m not sure what to do with it after that.

I started wondering tonight if the maturity and social awkwardness of the last few years is the result of growth or the result of the cipralex that I’ve been taking as a mood stabilizer.

Prior to taking the cipralex, I was having issues with stress and a bit of anxiety. At least I think that it was the reasoning at the time. As usual, I’m a bit fuzzy on the exact motivations of something that happened  a while back.

I know I had experienced a few panic attacks, when I’d come up the stairs at night and didn’t hear anything.  Those still happen from time to time.

I know I also had a few periods where I’d get angry for no rational reason. That definitely helped tip the scales towards taking the pills.

Last time I checked out iCandy, I was in a strange mood. I sat in a dark corner entertaining people with the neon wand and typed up an article on my phone, something that was technically against the rules of the club. This time, I’m in the same corner, but I’ve brought along a laptop and so my ability to type has greatly increased. I’m sure on some level, this is probably against the spirit of the rules, though I doubt anyone has been strange enough to bring a laptop with them to necessitate such rules. But, as always, I am the exception that prompts the rules, or at least the discussion regarding the rules.

Much of this intro can probably be discarded as irrelevant and pointless, but part of the process is to just develop the content, let the fingers flow across the keys and see what flows out. Sometimes, it’ll be something interesting, and sometimes it’ll be random noise. But there’s something to be said for the RNG. And at least I didn’t pull out the laptop and start playing KoL.

As a venue, I’m fond of Club 8×6. I still think the sound can be overwhelming at times, especially right now, while the pounding base is making it hard to type. Still, the people on the dance floor seem to be enjoying it. Briefly, I’m remind of the rave from Blade, and raves in general. This place has something of that in it, in it’s own way. The dance floor is less packed than one would expect from a rave, but there’s still a decent crowd enjoying it.

This particular piece won’t be making it into EV, since I’m currently focused too much on my own navel gazing. More than half the EV staff are here tonight though. Reive is around somewhere, I think. I am pretty sure I saw him earlier, though I haven’t spoken to him. I know our mysterious Editor and her man are around here, I checked in with them earlier. I was reminded that if I’m going to get people to embrace Slack I need to make better use of it myself. Mikey and Dave Toxic are around, I’ve spent a bit of time chatting with both of them. They seem in high spirits, which is good. Mikey is thinking he wants to work on his New Years piece. I suspect the battery on my hotspot will die before then, unless I stop at 7-11 for a cheap USB cord to recharge it.

Here I am at a party, near the supplies that one could use to write up a name tag, and yet I haven’t bothered to make one for myself. I could put myself out there, with the green card. I could make an effort to signal and communicate non-verbally, my interest in play of various forms. Except that to do that, I’d have to actually be able to put into written word what my interest is. And despite the various fantasies that still exist in my brain, I’m not sure what I’m actually interested in at this point. I’ve interest in things, but I’m not sure I know how to handle the fancy wiring bits to turn the facade into something functional.

Interestingly enough, so far only two people have commented on the laptop and the fact that I’m sitting here typing away. I’m not sure what that says about our culture, if anything at all.

Earlier, I was playing a board game, Splendour, with one of the cupids, the on site matchmakers. Nice guy, and he picked up the game fairly quickly. I think it fits in as one of the appropriate games for this sort of venue. It’s simple enough to teach in a few minutes, requires no complicated communication, and the cards and tokens are nicely resilient. The fact that we were playing a board game seemed to draw a considerable amount of attention, with a couple of people watching the majority of the game. Then again, it might have just been the time of night it was, early enough that things were still getting started. Hard to say.

Nearly 700 words at this point, and only a handful that could be recycled into an article that is actually about this event. I suppose I could consider various approaches and focuses that would actually lead to a real article, but currently I’m not sure I have the fortitude for that. I think my navel gazing will continue for a bit longer.

Given the article I wrote the other day on consent culture over on EV, I should be making an effort to connect with people and to play. But for whatever reason, I’m uninspired to do that. I think it’s the loud music and the lighting. It doesn’t strike me as a place to develop the rapport that I currently feel that I need. Though that might just be an excuse, a lie I’m telling myself to justify my lack of motivation, and my lack of motivation is probably rooted in my expectation of rejection. Polite rejection, I’m sure, but also inevitable rejection. I’m sure when she reads this, Recklie will roll her eyes, since she’s convinced that I’m the one rejecting connections. Or at least that was what she saw when she was looking through my chat logs the other day.

Ah, fun. The fellow who triggered that unpleasantness the other night is standing over there. Also, standing across the way is the source of the original unpleasantness, though I’ve no concern about a conversation with him. His ego will protect me from that. The other fellow though, he might try to make conversation, though I suspect he also has other fish on his hot plate.

Despite the negativity in my current view, I seem to be writing with a certain wit, one that I can’t recall having access too recently. Perhaps I should continue with the Drunken Wormhole project. Though I really need to rename that. It needs a proper title, something that hints at the end game, rather than throwing it out there without the appropriate ceremony.

It’s funny, I’m feeling like my bubble is being invaded by the people flirting near me. It’s gotten to the point where it’s actively disrupting my ability to write. Damn.

More later, perhaps.

While I showered this morning, I thought about who I am and how I communicate. In some ways, I’m a fairly private person, and in others I’m rather open about things. I try to be transparent about things, and that means it’s mostly things that I feel have no ability to harm me. Areas where I feel vulnerable, become fairly obfuscated. They are still there, but I tend to adjust the lighting around them so they’re harder to notice.

For the most part, these tend to be things that I feel would be “whining” to talk about. I find I’m more about to write about them, because then I’m not actively taking up someone’s time, unless they choose to take the time to read it.

I don’t recall how much I’ve actually expressed about various things. I know I’ve ranted about them from time to time, but it’s generally been to a fairly limited audience.

I think I need to work on that. But in the mean time, I suspect I’ll just spend more time writing about it here.

I’ve long been known to rant about my frustration with the modern world in regards to the signal to noise ratios, specifically the frustration I have with the difficulty of recognising craft from dross.

We are in an era where everyone can have a voice, but most haven’t developed the skills required to recognise when it is wisest to be quiet.

In various circumstances, that ignorance benefits those who are either playing the odds or who are oblivious to negatives of the reactions they generate. Some individuals are happy to spray forth a stream of generalised inquires, happy with their 1% (or less) response rate, because they are at least getting responses.

I tend to prefer to craft something personal, taking the time to consider what I can learn about them from what they’ve written and what I think the possible connections could be.

The problem is, both of those messages appear in the inbox in the same way. While I can do a little to distinguish myself from the horde, the messages will only convey that to someone who is actually looking for it, and most are simply scanning, as it is but one of fifty plus messages that they’ve received since their last log on.

It is a case of signal to noise. Like using an old analog radio in a crowded space. As you twist the dial, you’ll pick up snatches of content. Sometimes, you’ll find something that interests you, but most of the time you’ll settle on something clear, rather than finding what you really want.

This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve opened a window and stared at the page, trying to clean up my thoughts into words. The last few times I’ve decided to install Linux or browse Facebook instead of actually writing.

I’m having a hard time expressing myself because I don’t consider my current concerns to have high stakes. They are meaningless in the bigger picture. Petty and small, yet somehow they are still managing to cripple me.

Not to long ago, I looked at a thread on reddit asking people why they were really single. While I thought about what my answer would be, I scanned through the list, plenty of people with answers along the same lines as mine would have been. Obviously I’m not alone in being alone.

A friend was trying to help me with my OK cupid profile the other day. She’d found a great guy on there, and figures I should be able to have the same luck.

I appreciate her support, but a big part of the problem is that while I’m lonely, I’m not sure how ready I am to actually be involved with anyone.

A few months back I met someone from the site and we got along well. It seemed like it was something, but suddenly it was gone. Before that I think I’d made various attempts at dating, but my recollections aren’t overly clear.

I know at one point I’d thought I had chemistry with someone at a kink event and then been told that the person didn’t have time for any other relationships in their life. Not long after, that same person started complaining in her FetLife status posts about a lack of sadists in her life. At that point, I could have approached her, I could have commented on it, or a few other tactics. Instead, I removed her from my friends list, as it was my discomfort that was the issue.

Perhaps that is a cowardly way of dealing with the issue, I likely would have considered it that a few years back. On the other hand, it was my problem. I was the one bothered by what was communicated and I had no real investment in the “friendship”, so best to move on.

Is this a pattern of avoidance on my part? There is one girl that I’ve been talking to for a year or more, who I originally tried to help get out of an abusive relationship. We’ve hung out a few times, talked about it going somewhere, but it hasn’t gone past teasing. She also has an fwb who she is loyal to, but who doesn’t seem to deserve that loyalty. From what she has said, their relationship has violated her boundaries a few times, and she’s accepted it. It bothers me. She showed me what he got her for Christmas. That was a wake-up call for me. I’ve told her that I’m going to be distant for a while, that I’m probably going to be getting more distant. It bothers me that someone I am fond of is taking part of something that makes her sad.

I’m sure I could talk longer about this, but I’ve run out of time for now.

Back from dinner with the family, attempting to recover my train of thought.

I have a handful of people that I’ve managed to open up to, but the amount I’ve opened up has probably been reshaped over the last few years. It’s probably deceptively shallow, in that the stuff I’ve gotten comfortable with has gotten broader, but the specific details have faded away.

Apparently my psyche is best compared to a bog at this point. Random patches of solid ground surrounded by a mess of unstable soil, punctuated with random sink holes.

The girl I’d mentioned earlier got upset with me for posting about her, rather than talking to her about the issue. I posted about it because I’m trying to understand the pattern that I’m going through. It was about her, but only in as much as she was someone who was there for it. The bigger issue, the thing I was writing about, was how I was handling things. Rather than making an attempt to compete, I’m backing down and wandering off.

I’ve been doing that lately, but it’s also something I picked up a while ago. I don’t see the point in competing for people. Part of it is that people aren’t prizes, so competing for them isn’t something I’m comfortable with anymore. Part of it is that I’ve gotten a negative view of my own self worth.

I should be in a good place. I’ve got a job that I like and that I’m good at. I’ve got friends that I enjoy spending time with. I’ve got interesting projects that I’m working on. I have been getting a good night’s sleep most nights. My back isn’t bothering me, nor is my bad knee.

And yet I’m not. I’m aware that I’m in this weird downward spiral of negativity. I don’t know how to get out of it. I’m fully aware of it, but nothing seems to help.

I should get out and exercise more, maybe that will help. I took a walk today, maybe I’ll have time for one before work tomorrow.

I attempted to make connections with people, attempted to find someone on a dating site, but that just leads to me doubting myself and my value. Not to mention the random blows to my ego that come from just being on a dating site.

The whole dating site concept bothers me. I was having a conversation with someone on one of the sites, she asked for some info. I provided her with the information and a few days later asked if she’d had time to read it. Her response was that she that she had over 100 messages in her inbox, so she’d get back to me eventually. That’s great. I’m sure part of it is the whole shiny newbie fresh meat thing, but it’s also the fact that there are always plenty of men on dating sites, and from what I’ve seen, the majority of them are eager to find something. Hell, some would argue even desperate.

When it comes down to it, it’s a signal to noise ratio issue. And I don’t have a clue how to build an amp, and I certainly can’t help anyone install a filter. I suppose the best I can do is look for alternative channels.

Sometimes, you find a certain pocket of reality, a sweet spot in the the slipstream of fate. It’s a delicate little hollow, that you can only know by feeling the disruptions along the edges. As long as you ride with it, everything works. I had one of those nights tonight.  

I’m in this coffee shop on the corner, a block away from the party I’m supposed to be at. I changed my shirt after work, but didn’t bother with anything else. I packed some gears, but gave no real thought to my appearance. In theory, one reason to attend this event is to be social. To meet people. To flirt. Yet I’m totally unprepared for that. Instead I’m sitting here having a dark chocolate mocha so I’ll stay awake. I’m sure there’s something I’ll learn from this on later reflection, but right now I’m just staring my own foolishness in the face.

But hey, at least I got out of the house. Though a wise man would have probably just stayed in front of the fire rather than driving icy roads.

—

Well, I just got a rather subtle reminder to trust my gut. My first instinct when I parked was to grab the exceeding conspicuous bag from the bag and take it to the coffee shop with me. But instead I back to the car, tried to find a closer parking spot, and ended up circling the block for no good reason. And parking in that exact same spot. Ah well, at least Modo counts as a universal resident permit.

As often happens in November, my body has become an production facility for disgusting slime. The process is resulting in a combination of lethargy and disassociation; a feeling of weary calm.

For many years I was a mouth breather, as my twice deviated septum and enlarged adenoids limited my nasal oxygen flow to less than 10% of my airflow. Eventually, I got over my paranoia over hospitals and had something done about it. As a result, I’m  actively conscious of my breathing, in terms of quality of airflow.

Of course the thing that got me over the paranoia about hospitals was the stabbing pain in my lower back that happened one Sunday night when my gallbladder developed a bit of an issue. That attack was immediate and severe enough that I didn’t have the time to be paranoid about being knocked unconscious and sliced open.

My point? A painful and unexpected attack was the thing that allowed me to get over my inertia and paranoia. It allowed me to get to the point where I was able to make the change that needed to be made to make things better.

I’ve always claimed that there is no knowledge that is gained without a price being paid in pain, be it physical or emotional or spiritual or however you perceive it.

The take away from this? Perhaps it was a metaphor or an allusion. Of course it is also just my life experience.

Oh, right, and I’ve been having trouble falling asleep until after 4am, possibly because my sleep schedule got disrupted by the 3 days I spent mostly unconscious trying to recover from the nastiness in my respiratory system.

That was why I picked the title after all.

Tonight, Noir happens. Friends of mine will be there. I could go and join them. In previous years, I’d have planned to celebrate the fact that I’ve survived yet another trip around the sun. I’m going to be a designated driver tonight, so that won’t be an option. Even without that it’s been a while since I’ve had more than a drink with a meal.

Alcohol as a social lubricant bothers me these days. The idea of buying someone a drink seems distasteful, but not in a way I can explain clearly. Perhaps it is the fact that the effects of alcohol tends to lead to stupidity and I prefer intelligence.

I’ll probably have an alright time if I go, so I might as well go. I just have this feeling a few years ago I’d have been more enthusiastic and that I’ve lost something along the way.