Tag muse

14 posts

Tell Me Why The World Is Fucked

2014 has been intense shit.
I’m alone for a little while, and realizing how small I am.
There’s only so much I can do.
Before the need to attend to my psyche over powers my ability to be useful to the world.
And that’s okay. I’m trying to accept that.
I don’t have to be on all the time.
I can’t be on all the time.
But it doesn’t stop the world from feeling like it’s crumbling before me.
And I’m powerless to stop it.
So I try to make things that people who are stronger than I
can come to for a respite, a break, a moment of calm before facing the storm again.
That’s what I do right now, or try to anyway.
 
But tell me why the world is fucked
and if I can do something to fix it.
I’ll join the fight outside
leave the support station behind
and raise my sword by your side.
 
Tell me that the world is fucked
and that you need a break
I’ll give you a hug
and some chocolate in a mug
and let you rest and wait.
 

Feels

WP_20140811_002
I feel like the world is falling apart at the seams and going to shit and I’m powerless to do anything about it.
Between police brutality in Ferguson, shit going down in Gaza and Iraq, Robin Williams committing suicide…
It’s all just too many.
It’s too much.
It’s getting to me.
 
I watched the news for the first time in ages on Saturday because it was on at the car place while we were getting our mini inspected.
I was alone for 5 minutes and almost started crying.
It’s too many.
 
I sometimes forget how deeply things can hurt. I can sometimes turn my empathic nature off just enough to get by without feeling everything from everyone.
And sometimes, like the last couple days, I can’t.
Twitter and Facebook and news articles and snippets of conversation…like thousands of needles
and all I can think about is making blanket forts and escaping it all, because the difference between other people’s feelings and my own get blurred and I feel everything.
I can’t sleep well, and wake up stressed out and sad and depressed.
And yet, all I want to do is sleep – sleep and wake up and this will all have been a dream.
Needless violence and systemic racism, and genocide, and suicide, all just figments of my imagination – horrific nightmares.
But no.
It’s reality.
And sleeping won’t make it go away.
And I’m just one person – one person who can barely keep henself together.
But I care, and being powerless and lost inside myself makes me feel weak and useless.
I’m one person, what can I do?
I don’t know.
But I’ll keep trying. I’ll do what I can.
I’ll keep fighting the voices in my head that say you’re worthless, pointless, and don’t matter, and try to latch on to the one that says but you do matter, and you’re not pointless.
And I don’t know if that will matter in the end, but it does right now.
When the world is falling apart and I’m a speck of stardust in one small galaxy…
But I’m alive. And you’re alive. and that matters. And maybe we can make things better together, for the ones who are still alive.
I don’t know, maybe.
And I’m so sorry.
 

trigger(ed by SCOTUS and Hobby Lobby): a semi-tipsy sad muse time

I feel like I just got punched in the stomach.
Today is really triggering a lot of not-good feelings.
I hate how having a body…
this female-assigned body
tends to affect my life
and future.
 
I hate being reminded about how my body dictates
or rather
I hate how my body is dictated by people who aren’t me
people who employ me
could stop me from getting the care I need
the care that currently keeps a lot of the self-loathing
the self-mutilation fantasies at bay
the thing that’s made me feel me and human and be okay
 
I need birth control to be able to be me
and not try to plunge steak knives into my gut every few weeks
 
and decisions like this
make me want to pull out my uterus
and stick it on a stake
and never have to deal with it again
to not be subject to my body
the needs of my biology
 
I want to be able to get rid of that which people say
makes me a woman
because I’m not one
and with birth control and anti-depressants
I can be a person
I can live
 
but without them? I’m not healthy.
 
right now I just need to run away. right now I feel boxed and gendered because things that effect my body effect me, and me and my body? we’re not the same. I feel dysphoric today, and it’s really hard.

vents and sundry

1) definitely going to up the dosage on my meds
2) there is nothing quite so terrifying as being called at by a strange man while I’m minding my own business at the pool. Yelling “Hey pretty lady” at me, twice, is NOT going to get me to respond to you, it is however, going to freak me out for about a week and cause me to fake-sleep and run-through scenarios that may or may not include injuring your testicles at the first opportunity.
(in all honesty and in the spirit of the #yesallwomen tag on twitter, I am terrified. I am small and I know it and I rely on my wits and my acting oblivious when I’m actually ignoring people to avoid situations where I feel threatened and hopefully the unresponsiveness de-escalates the situation. This isn’t uncommon for anyone, but it’s scary as fuck, and it doesn’t happen to me that often, which is maybe why it still bothers me – because…I generally weigh where I’m going against the likelihood of these situations.)
3) my body is mine and not yours to comment on. This kind of treatment (like my body is something to be discussed while ignoring that I am a human, and that I should listen to their commentary about my body because I somehow owe them my appearance and thus should do my utmost to submit to their preferences) is why I don’t go to my game store anymore, and why I avoid people who give off the aura-of-douche. I’ve done remarkably well so far, but pool-guy triggered this whole thing and he pisses me off.
He probably didn’t even think twice about it. Probably thought he was being completely normal and like I’m some rude person. Seriously. no. it’s SCARY. DON’T DO IT TO PEOPLE. I have no way of knowing your intentions but when your first point of contact is aggressive, every instinct I have says GTFO. hello IRL caveman.
4) in that vein, if what I do gets your dick hard, don’t tell me. I don’t a give a fuck, and I realllllly can’t emphasize how much I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. (And also how creepy it is for you to offer that information to me, a complete stranger)
5) I’ve been working on making the new comic site with Ruby on Rails and I finished all of the backend stuff this week and started on the CSS. I was going to use Macaw, and if you’re someone who’s not familiar with CSS and HTML, it’s something you might enjoy checking out, but after trying to finagle with the css code itself after the fact, I decided to scrap it and write my own, so that’s probably what I’ll be working on next week and I’m super excited. I got a gem that lets me render and write text in markdown (redcarpet), and I got authentication working and it’s all really kinda awesome and I’m really proud of myself.
I feel like if I can do this and finish it and it works, I can do anything – which is great, because I have at least one more ruby-blog/project thing that is in the works that I need to start on. That one I have actually mocked up, but haven’t started writing or anything, obviously, and I may cheat and try to not make my own custom backend/CMS for it. I’m currently thinking about creating my own video hosting/sharing/thingy for KieryGeek because of youtube’s douchery, and that I will probably ALSO create using Ruby on Rails if I decide to go ahead and do that. That project, if I do it, I’m hoping to opensource/ put up on github so other people can use it too. It’ll also force me to learn how to use github besides just for installing/finding gems and answers to questions.
6) I got all of the things that were stressing me out done today, I think. I feel like I did ALL OF THE THINGS, and I kinda did, but most of today was just deadlines. heh. I still should get a prize though.
7) I would really like my plumbing fixed.
8) I am a fairy

New Meds Muse: Zoloft

I’ve been taking the full-dose of Zoloft (currently 50mg a day) for about a week now. I was going strong until I got stressed out on Friday, and then everything just kinda has been a haze of anxiety. I was super focused and creative and fucking fantastic for a week…excusing the bouts of nausea/dizziness and general there’s-a-new-chemical-in-my-body-side-effects that lasted a few days (and then went away, and then came back randomly but only for an afternoon or so off and on, I’m only in week like, 2.5 of new meds, so). Sometime over the weekend it’s like I forgot how to focus and I’ve been really tense.
A couple circumstantial things don’t help: our shower drain has been clogged since the weekend and the plumber was supposed to come today but didn’t, and the subsequent sink drains have decided to join in on the clogging fun, so I have a bunch of unwashed/gross/dirty dishes from a failed attempt to wash them just sitting on the counter, I haven’t showered since the weekend (because pooling just feels bad when you can’t clean the tub, and feeling grosser after showering than before is sorta pointless), and the bathroom sink is all slow now, so doing anything for longer than 30 seconds is basically out.
On the upside, I’ll be at a wedding this weekend and the hotel will have a working shower, and my pit hairs are kinda cute right now.
I’ve spent a lot of this week trying to still work on things – I ended up managing to get a lot done – this week’s comic, for instance, I finished already and I think it’s awesome, but KieryGeek is gonna wait because I just couldn’t, at that point, the anxiety had pretty much taken over. I’ve been working on my Ruby site pretty regularly, though I feel like the going is pretty slow. Some of that though, is just how learning a new language is and has less to do with my meds.
It’s so weird though, because I can tell that the meds are doing something, I know there’s an edge of anxiety that’s missing, because there’s a tiny tiny calm space even though I feel like, today, I’m on the verge of a meltdown.
My current plan is to ask to up the dose when I go back in July. I know they’re doing things but I feel like I did before I needed to up the dose on my anti-depressants – work great as long as there’s no stressors or anything, but as soon as something is there, it’s like, just doesn’t have enough umph. And some of that might just be because I’m only 2.5 weeks into the new medication, but if one lunch & some plumbing issues can throw me for a loop, I’m thinking…yeah with the upping being a good idea.
And if that doesn’t work, I guess we’ll try something else.
It was so nice to be creative and focused again though, even if it was only for a few days. I want that back.

Good Reads

I’ve been going through some stuff this month – between my medications trying to get back to normal from being kicked off because vicodin, and the lovely little guilt-anxiety cycle and general overwhelmingness, I’ve felt a little lost. Some of the truths I discovered in Spring, this year and last, are more distant, which isn’t cool because they’re kindof…..really super important to my being and my confidence and my artistic journey.
But, over the last few weeks – as I’ve been taking the situation back into my own hands – I’ve run across several posts from the Rebelle Society that were just…perfect. Maybe it’s the universe, or maybe it’s coincidence, but, I thought I’d post them here:
Facing the Darkest Side of a Beautiful Person
Self-Criticism: The Way You Break Your Own Heart
So, yes, stress is good
I think I’ll come out on the other side of this stronger, for having, I don’t know, been in a sad-sauce hole for a while. I hope, anyway, because I sense something starting to come back to me, and I think that’s a good thing.
 

[evolve]

I lived in a rigid world with rigid language. Words like evolve and evolution were almost taboo and never spoken except in reference to something bad (or the theory, which was also bad). The act of evolving was treated with disdain when it was obvious. The word fascinates, resonates with me – it always has. Evolve – the gradual growth and change. The word itself rocks rigidity, rocks the mindset and the world; it’s no wonder it was practically shunned – that I was scared to breathe it until after adulthood without feeling the need to caveat.
Still, as I mused at 3:30 this morning, if there was one word that described all of me – my values, my personality, my goals – it would be evolve. I don’t want to stop growing in my 20’s; to remain stagnant for the rest of my existence. What is existence if there’s no evolution? If we’re not changing and growing and learning? If we resign ourselves to staying the same, shunning any personal change, how does that make us better? wiser? experienced?

To me, the integral part of my existence is the ability to evolve and continue evolving. To learn, to change, to strive. I survived by suppression, by trying not to change – I didn’t start living, no, thriving, until I allowed myself to grow, to gradually change, and embrace that this is what my humanity means to me.evolve

Waxing Eloquent

I have a secret language that I speak inside my head. When I’m feeling brave, I write this way. It’s my own kind of prose, words have a rhythm and sentences flow. Phrases turn and swirl into what I like to call my butterfly language. When I’m honest and I write like this, I feel like it looks weird on paper screen, I’ve only gotten a few good responses when I use this language – I’m afraid it doesn’t make sense. Which is why most of my writing style is more train-of-thought like.
I’ve been introspective lately, and vulnerable – not in a bad way, just….my heart keeps emerging from my chest and wanting to place itself on my sleeve. It’s fluttering about looking for a place to land, leaving me feeling insecure and causing awkward (to me) social hiccups which I, in turn, overcompensate for.

It’s a new stage of me, just like a caterpillar coming out of a cocoon and realizing it’s a butterfly.  The confusion, the vulnerability of feeling so open and exposed, and yet so alive. The first few moments of flying, or attempting to fly probably result in somewhat embarrassing moments – colliding with the earth and bumping into plants, I imagine they feel a little over apologetic too, in this growing stage.
But I realized, as I’ve had a lot of time to think, that this is a good sign. It means I’m evolving, I’m becoming myself and growing. More importantly, I’m growing braver, my masks are coming off and I’m still flying a little awkwardly, still fighting oh so many insecurities that come with exposing myself, my soul coughs and makes messes, but that’s okay.
I am in a vulnerable existence, but one that is very much alive. I will use my prose voice and wax as eloquent as I wish, because…..why not?

Starting Out Of Order

Sometimes I feel strange because all of the major life events happened to me before the normal life stuff. I graduated at 15, which I thought was cool at the time. I find myself now, questioning whether or not I was actually ready then. A lot of the outside-of-school skills most people learn in high school, I didn’t learn until after I was married. I don’t feel like I earned graduating that early, which might have something to do with finding out I graduated after getting home from a trip and expecting I had to catch up on math before that was even an option. It was welcome and as far as transcripts are concerned, I graduated with over 30 credits, but deep down inside, I don’t trust it. I don’t trust the education I gave myself because I feel so ill-equipped in real life, with people, and jobs, and not homemaking.
If I grew into the adult I was raised to be, I’d probably be pregnant or have a child by now, I’d be cooking meals and taking care of spawn or becoming a planet and looking at homeschool curricula. I would feel perfectly capable, maybe.
But I’m not that person.
I’m a geek who doesn’t get math jokes unless they involve pie – I don’t know what the Mandelbrot set is, but I like the song. I didn’t have an actual or good job experience until after I was married, when I was 18 (the one job I had in high school lasted a month, but it had nothing to do with me).
I’ve slowly been realizing that all the bad things I was told happen to marriages where women have jobs that involve being outside the 4 walls of their home haven’t happened, and are mostly lies.
At 21, sometimes it feels weird to have crossed all the major check points and still feel woefully inadequate, inexperienced, and ill-equipped.  But maybe everyone feels that way if they’re doing the things they like doing?
Everything I’ve done, I’ve been learning as I go – and I have no formal training or anything, I read a lot of blogs from people who’ve been there, I research things I’m unsure or curious about, and I spend a lot of time doing. Which explains a lot of my failed attempts at successful etsy business-ing, but also my successes as data entry specialist and now web administrator for local non profits (child of the internet, ftw).
When I remind myself how far I’ve come and the things I do, I can sometimes remember to be confident. But the struggles I face in my brain just doing simple things and relating – I second guess myself too much, I over think and spend hours inside my head replaying events and hoping I didn’t sound stupid or boring or anything, sometimes I’m almost frozen with insecurities and I never used to be.
But I love the things I do, and I love the opportunities and the friends and experiences and everything that’s so new and exciting that’s happened over just the last 5 months. I love that I get to work with non profits doing things I’ve been acquiring skills for (unwittingly) since high school, I love I get to make videos and that people like to see them, I love that I get to play new games and try new things every Thursday, and I love that I’m actually part of a community.
So maybe it’s normal, when you’re flooded with things that you like doing and opportunities to make money and get help and feedback from people while doing them, to feel insecure. Maybe it’s normal to feel ill-equipped because things are moving faster than you imagined. Maybe it’s normal to be a little scared and dizzy. Maybe that’s all okay.

Success can be scary

I didn’t know that making progress could be a scary thing. I’m ridiculously proud of how my artistry is developing and I’m at the point where I look at the things I’ve recently done and feel proud, and feel like I captured what I intended to capture.
It’s wonderful, and yet, almost paralyzingly scary – I’m afraid that I’ll forget, or that it won’t last, or that I won’t remember what it took to get here, or that I’ll peak here. I know none of these are founded…but I realized I think I’m at the point where if I were to list a bunch of new things, they would actually have a better chance of selling. I feel like I’m capable of making a handprint, and I’m scared to – scared that maybe it won’t evolve or be able to change, and I don’t know what to make.
This week, I’m going to try and finish my art books, and start painting again. I think the only cure, at this point, would be to keep making better art and keep improving in addition to the improvements that have already taken place. I think that’s the only way I’m going to dispel the fear of losing “it”, and continue to find my voice.
art journal