16 June 2023

Stuff’s pretty steady, nothing really out-there interesting going on. I’m just trying to get back into the habit, so here I am.

I’m still kind of wanting to pinch myself over the whole living situation. I get that I’m helping L out in some important way — for instance, yesterday I brought in firewood for her (she doesn’t get as cold as Dad gets, but she doesn’t have my cold tolerance) because she isn’t supposed to lift that heavy a weight — but I doubt I would have found another opportunity like this, ever. She really stuck her neck out, because I could be anybody and I’m the one moving into her personal space, not the other way around. I need to stop fucking around and start bringing in at least a little money for now, and not just the Substack income, but if I can get that squared away I think I’ll be all right for a while.

We’ll see, but it’s looking good.

I need to think about something nice to do for her. Draw her dogs, maybe. I have seen no art-type doggie portraits of specifically her dogs around here anywhere. I don’t usually draw animals, but if I use the same method as for people, it can’t be that fucking hard.

Neighbor has been over two days in a row. For some reason, L cooks for him. Not daily, but like a few times a week. I think I mentioned several posts ago that I suspect they’re an item, either that or they consider one another honorary family. Even with that, there’s bound to be a specific story to do with the cooking. I know he has Crohn’s, and that’s all I know for sure. I might ask, I might not. I kind of get the idea that while I’m welcome here, doesn’t mean I get to hear their whole life stories. That’s fair.

Yesterday he had a funny story. He was about twenty-six and was reading about Lawrence of Arabia’s weird sexual predilections — I have no idea what the context was. But apparently Lawrence tricked some military officer into beating Lawrence’s ass until he got off. The way Neighbor put it was “until he [Lawrence] had a seminal emission.” The man’s sixty-three; I can’t believe he’s never said come in a sexual context before. I’m not mocking him. I get the sense that he wanted to convey the story without making it prurient (well… any more than could be helped). But that’s not the funny bit. Remember, Neighbor was twenty-six when he read about this. Apparently he was pretty sheltered. Next time he went in to see his doctor, since they often had conversations about random embarrassing body-related stuff, he asked the doctor whether he’d ever heard of anything like that; was it actually possible to get a “seminal emission” in response to an ass-beating? (My phrasing, not his.) The doctor just kind of looked at him and suggested that it was probably not a good idea for Neighbor to try it. L and I about fell out. I said, “Oh god, he thought you were saying…” and L said, “He thought it was one of those ‘I have a friend who’ stories!” It was a hoot.

The movement they’re involved with means that sometimes people get together to schmooze, which is coming up in the next few months. Long-Distance Guy (see previous post) was here for a previous gathering, I think he said last year? Recently, anyway. He commented on a post about the event and I asked him if he was going to be here again. He said probably. So that will be interesting. There are actually two things coming up in the next few months and I’m not sure about one of them but if this other thing doesn’t cost anything then I’ll very likely go. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t mostly to meet Long-Distance Guy and see what that’s about. The aims of the movement in question also interest me, I just don’t feel particularly empowered to help with much of anything. “I am just an egg,” my old church co-members used to say. Might as well go look at a dude. And chat with him. And stuff. Mostly not stuff, but in case there is stuff. Which there probably won’t be.

15 June 2023

Oh god, I have been neglectful here. It’s ironic. When I didn’t have a constant connection to the internet at Dad’s, I would write up text files to post on here the next time I was at Carrie’s or at the library. Now that I can go on any old time, I… don’t. I don’t know why. It’s so stupid.

Because it’s not like things aren’t going on. Okay, not a LOT is going on for me personally, but I see people often enough in my day to day and THEY have stuff going on that I could at least talk about some of that. You would think.

The thing is — although nobody’s doing anything morally or ethically wrong, strictly speaking — L (my housemate) and Neighbor have a particular cause they support that faces a lot of emnity these days, and I hesitate to talk much about particulars because I don’t know when I might say the wrong thing and get one or both of them harassed or worse. We, they more than me because they are more widely known, are contending with violent lunatics in all senses of the word violent. Either the lunatics want to actually assault and batter people or they want to move the levers of power to punish people in other ways, in retribution for things which are completely normal and not wrong at all, and they’ve shown they’re quite willing. Being on the receiving end of that is not what you’d call an enviable state of being. So it’s easier a lot of times to just say nothing. I’ll talk about some of the general situation on social media but even there I get vague.

Another thing is, after my experiences over twenty years with the particular branches of that lunacy called the Neopagan and polyamorous communities and all the paragons of good mental health those attract (yes, that was sarcasm), I find I have something like PTSD. I didn’t get the Crazy Weirdo vibes off L that I did off Elizabeth back in Dublin, still don’t, but I have no idea what crosses a line (other than a couple dealbreakers L told me about in our initial chat on the subject, and those are easy to avoid) and I am all too aware of my propensity to come off wrong. So I’m hesitant to talk about my own life because in terms of living situations, I am absolutely on my last fucking legs. There’s no way to go but rock bottom from here. I can see it on a foggy day, never mind a clear one. We’ll see how things go over the next several months, if I have several months (there is so much I still don’t know and can’t predict), and re-evaluate.

Well, no. I will try to get back into a daily journaling habit. I may even go back over my Facebook and Instagram posts and use them to try to fill in some things here. I’m probably overthinking every fucking thing like I always do. It’s funny. I will defend Amber Heard even though she fought back against Johnny Depp and that’s just Not Done in abuse situations and then still not connect that I suffered emotional and psychological abuse for the better (worse) part of thirty fucking years and that my being an asshole in response negates or mitigates absolutely none of that. Now I’m letting that whole experience steal away bits of me. No. Not fucking having it.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. I learned some things along the way. Even a stopped clock, etc. People who suffer abuse are not all saints either, and I’m perfectly capable of learning from my own bullshit and preventing some future mistakes. Wish I could prevent them all, but I’ll do what I can.

Meh.

The other thing I didn’t want to talk about is there are a couple guys who seem Interesting. One I see locally, and one is long-distance but I’ll get to meet him this August because he’s connected to this whole… community. One is unusually kind for a man, and his background explains a lot of that but I need to not make the mistake of thinking that a guy who’s being kind is Interested, because I’ll just get hurt. The other pays more attention to me on Facebook than I would have expected for someone I’ve never met who has zero background with me, including a recent remark that would have been too easy to interpret as a flirt and which I deflected with as much humorous aplomb as I could manage, and I’m curious to see what vibe I will get off him when he comes to visit.

Either way, if either of them is a Possibility, he’ll have to say something. I’m a dumbass. I have no idea what’s going on. Spell it out for me.

With your tongue would be fine.

Shut up, Dana.

It won’t happen but if it did I still don’t know how I would respond. After all the shit with Matt I am left doubting who the fuck I am and what the fuck I would do. Craig had the same effect on me. If I start seeing that whole vibe happening again, I’m out. I will be diplomatic about it with Local Guy because my life is kind of tied up with him a little bit right now in a way I will not spell out here — maybe ten, twenty years from now when it doesn’t matter anymore — but he’s the less likely-to-be-Possible of the two anyway, but if Long-Distance Guy starts acting like that, it won’t be pretty. That’s a thing I’m more afraid of out of all the possible outcomes. I have to watch myself lest I be triggered. I don’t think it’ll happen, but the possibility is greater than zero. What am I talking about? I’m hypervigilant, and if someone’s lying to me then I pick up signs early and they stress me out and heighten that stress and it does not bring out the best in me. I can’t go through that again. I will nuke it from space just to be sure. I’m done.

I have to laugh, too. I didn’t come here to find a guy. I’m not even sure it’s a good idea to let a guy find me. What the fuck could I do with that? I have nothing. I basically AM nothing right now. Can’t bring anything to a relationship when you’re nothing.

Oh well. I’ll just play it by ear.

Meanwhile, let me get going because I swear to fucking God I need to organize my files and I’m just dicking around with this instead. ‘Later.

05 June 2024

From a meme on Facebook today…

“You can tell when someone grew up with fear-based parenting. They always think they’re in trouble. They apologize for things they don’t need to apologize for. And they over-explain things so intensely you can feel their anxiety.”

Reba’s been peeking in on my Facebook again lately. Bet she’ll care-react it like she had absofuckinglutely nothing to do with it.

Uh-huh.

I am still fighting with this stupid cold and while I am basically achieving bare minimum in my daily life, I don’t have energy for much more than that. It’s not even the cold itself. It’s that once I go horizontal, my lungs start going slugnutty and it takes almost no time at all. Eventually, after a nice long back-and-forth fit between sort of breathing and trying to launch my lungs into orbit, I manage some sleep but I end up waking up due to the congestion. Again. And again. And again. So that’s why no energy. Suddenly glad I’m not driving.

Except in the sense that Walmart is two miles from here, which takes 45 minutes to walk according to Google but I’m not sure my fat ass would be up to that speed, and I can’t buy cold things there and then walk back even if it did take only 45 minutes. Which it would not.

Which matters, because L informed me a few days ago (I’m fuzzy on it now) that she needs her eggs for herself and her dogs and that I should get my own. Not in those words but that was the message. I seem to clearly recall her telling me I could eat hers, but maybe she thought I’d only eat them occasionally. I’d be happy to chip in, and I should have thought to make the offer then, but it’s okay. This way, I can just buy a greater quantity of cheap eggs and they will last longer rather than buying fewer eggs for her that cost twice as much. It’s a win, really. I’m just wondering if something like this is going to happen again. It will not be a reason I leave unless something REALLY weird happens, because I don’t have a car and really, I have nowhere to go unless I go to Doug’s, and the idea of me dragging around things I can’t fit in my bags gives me nightmares. That’s the literal rest of my material life, including all the family photos I have, and it will all be destroyed or lost in no time. I can’t do it. So I’m hoping things don’t get REALLY weird, because I don’t know what I’ll do. I am never at my best decision-making capacity on impulse.

I’m debating whether I should chance going to Walmart on foot and risk any cold things I buy, or just ask for a ride once a week. I could reimburse her on gas if she wants unless she was going to go to town anyway, and then she wouldn’t exactly be spending extra on fuel. I hate asking people for things, but we’ll see. I found an insulated bag on Amazon that looks promising, and I might just get it.

God, I want a bicycle. Maybe someday soon.

Welp, got my phone situation sorted for the next three months, this one inclusive. I wanted to move to Tello because they’re around $35 a month and so it would have been some savings over the between $43 and $45 I was spending at Twigby. Got as far as activating the SIM and then Tello fucked up. I had no service and when I tried to figure things out with tech support, they were reading off a script. No, that’s not why I chat with tech support. No script. Find out what the fuck’s going on. I was very patient though, and we might have been okay even though she (I think it was a she; the agent’s name was Carmen) got a little weird in places, but then I asked her what network they were on because my other carrier had been on Verizon’s. She advised me to look it up on the internet and said she couldn’t tell me due to security reasons. Okay, everybody out of the pool. It was less secure, I told her, for me to look it up on a website than it would be for her to just tell me in our chat. At that point I ended the chat. I could see we weren’t getting anywhere.

But either late last night or today I got an idea because even though Tello’s signal didn’t work, I did now have a local phone number. I put my Twigby SIM back into my phone and got a hold of Twigby in their support chat this morning, and I asked them if they could just port the Tello number to my phone, and that I would gladly pay the $10 for a number change. Can’t do that, said the support guy, but what I can do is close the line you’ve got and then port the Tello number and start a new line, plus you will be eligible for any new-customer promos. Cool, says I. I can handle that. It honestly didn’t matter what “line” I had, it was all coming to the same phone and I was changing my number anyway. So we got that worked out, my old I Got Kicked Out Pregnant phone number is gone, I have a local number so now can rule out area codes as a reason employers don’t call back, AND, when I looked at what they were going to charge me? HAHAHAHAHA IT’S $25 A MONTH. $28ish with the tax added. Even when it goes up to full price it’ll be like $35 to $40. HAHAHAHAHA. This gives me some breathing room. As a bonus, the port happened a lot faster than I think either of us anticipated. He thought it hadn’t happened when we clicked off. It had. I’m good to go. Best part? I didn’t have to cancel Tello myself. A port-out is an automatic account closure with them. I checked to make sure. It’s kaput. All done. And they never took a cent from me; I was still in the trial period.

Cool.

And by the way, if you want to try Twigby because they are fucking awesome, hit me up. I can get a referral bonus. That would be nice. I have never had a significant problem with them, and whatever I had to ask about was always quick to resolve. They can just keep that up and I’ll basically stay with them forever.

Oh and my Google Voice number has changed. If you look at my home page and scroll down to the bottom, you’ll see that. I couldn’t pull one up for Crescent City, but GV let me choose one further down the state. It doesn’t matter. I’m just using it as a sort of catch-all anyway.

I’m taking forever to write this fucking post. I’ll tell you what, though: I’ve got my playlist going in my earbuds and it’s kind of perked me up. I think I need to start doing that instead of getting lost on Facebook and maybe I’ll get more done. It is perfectly conducive to writing. I already know it pairs nicely with drawing.

…Instead of getting lost on Facebook! There I went again.

L said when I first got here that I seemed really sad. Yeah, probably accurate. I’ve been numb for a while now so I have to say “probably,” but I also have to say it’s probably coming out by alternative means other than crying. I mean, the not crying is good. I hate crying. But my whole life feeling like it’s slogging through half-frozen mud isn’t a great alternative. I’m gonna tank what’s left of my life if I keep this shit up.

The other problem is that I’m starting to feel the decades-long lack of contact with sane male-type people in my life. I don’t mean sexual contact, though I’m not convinced I would turn that down either, which is sad. Because what helped me stay celibate all those years was not being around guys at all — if I get to liking one enough, it’s a lot more likely I’ll want to take him for a roll in the hay. The good news is it’s not likely to become an issue. Dude in question’s a bit of a space case. I mean that in the best possible way. Not because I want to put him on a pedestal but I want to make it clear I’m not trying to insult him. He just is. He’s a dreamer, and he’s got no time for petty mundane things like tearing off a piece of me. AND IT IS JUST AS WELL, because if I even thought there was a chance I’d be making an ass of myself pursuing it, and I DO NOT need that distraction. It wouldn’t go anywhere good anyway. That never does.

At least it wouldn’t knock me up at this point. Thank fuck.

That’s right. Still no period since week one in January. I thought earlier this year that that was going to be another stress delay like I got in ’22. I was SO hopeful back then, and then it came back and basically dicked everything up. But that hasn’t happened this time, and I think I’ve mentioned before that things FEEL different down there. No more blood-bloat. Ever. It’s wonderful. I bet the fibroids, or fibroid, are shrinking too. I hear that happens when the hormones change. And, well… no period, no ovulation either. I’m not QUITE willing to say I’m in the clear, but at this point if I did catch it’d probably be the Antichrist or something. In other words, not terribly fucking likely.

(Shut up. Summay’all out there qualify as the Antichrist’s father. Facts.)

My other theory, besides the space-case thing, is that maybe he’s with L. They don’t live together, but they’re both introverts, so it might be on purpose and they are walking distance from one another’s homes anyway. I’ve just seen them interacting and either they see one another as honorary family, or they’re fucking. There is no third option. I never see men and women be that touchy-feely with one another under any other circumstances. So one more reason for me to keep it reined in and redirect it is I might inadvertently REALLY piss her off, and she’s my key to being housed at this point. I’m not using her, it is definitely a quid pro quo, but that is still my situation. Let’s not sabotage it. It isn’t terribly nice to interrupt a good emotional connection anyhow. I’m not even sure I could. His energy is all wrong in that vein. Like he’s remembering he ought to be elsewhere.

Shit, that’s probably why. Me and emotionally unavailable (to me) men. Right?

I might put in my trip day by day after all. I just don’t feel like being hugely wordy about it. That doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind, but that’s just where my head is right now and I can’t say which way it will go.

But probably not tonight. Dude is not the only one who’s a space case lately.

Sigh.

24 May 2024

I’ll depart from my usual format of trying to post each day as it happens, because a fucking lot happened. I’m not even going to try to write it all down now, because I’m exhausted and I will be going to bed shortly. Hopefully I will give it the treatment it deserves tomorrow.

Bullet points:

1. I got to California safely. Twice.

(More on that later)

2. There were fuckups along the way. Some of those were entertaining. Others had me wanting to use various people’s faces as trivets for L’s cast iron. The impulse passed quickly. Sometimes fuckery just spreads out far too thin to be traced back to the source of blame. We should probably all be grateful.

3. Bus travel is indeed cheap but never mind I’m not gonna get into the pros and cons right this fucking minute because BED.

I even got all my packages here and my computer also survived and I’m writing this on it right now. Yey.

Ni ni.

18 May 2024

I’m going to bore you all to death if I keep this up, and I’m going starey-eyed so I’ll keep this short.

Not done packing. Dreading it even though I want to leave; I don’t know what’s coming and that kind of lowkey terrifies me. Not enough to freak out but enough for a little anxiety to kick in. But I did get some laundry done, and I’ll do the rest tomorrow early enough since I have to do the sheets anyway. Well. Maybe I don’t HAVE to do the sheets, but I’m fucking doing them anyway. Least I can do. May as well throw in the last little bit that’s dirty while I’m at it since I’ll be showering tomorrow too.

Got music onto the phone. I had some random stuff on my laptop that hadn’t been on my car playlist and I swiped some things off YouTube. Didn’t grab as much as I wanted to, but it got tedious after a little while. It’ll have to do. I can add more when I get where I’m going. I still have that FM radio app on my phone, too, so if I get REALLY bored I can try that.

So far, with the big suitcase, I’m nowhere near hitting the fifty-pound weight limit. I don’t think I’m even halfway there. That takes a load off my mind, haha. But I have to make allowance for the laptop, and maybe also the blanket if I can fit it. I’ll just stuff both in right quick to see what that does to the weight and then make decisions from there. The laptop definitely has to go with me. The blanket does not. If Carrie wants to keep it, great; if she says she’ll send it, that’s fine too. I’m good either way. I put a lot of work into that thing, but she gave me a safe place to stay til I could launch and I didn’t have to tiptoe around my father anymore. That’s priceless. It almost matches the sheet set on this twin bed, too. Did not see that coming.

I think I am going to be militantly curating my possessions from here on out because managing this shit is too much when I have to keep moving. I do not know when I will stop having to fucking move.

I’ve had a lot more than that on my mind but this whole 2.5-year experience has left me doing the death-march thing of metaphorically staring down at the ground as I walk, one foot in front of the other, just focusing on where I am because I can’t even think about the future anymore. So where I would normally be boring the shit out of you by going into a long philosophical ramble about various things… nah. A cannae be fucked, as the Scots would say. Maybe later.

Okay. Time to depress myself with that fucking luggage scale. Whee!

P.S. I was right about that old micro SD card. Deader than dogshit. Getting the new one was a good call.