recently, I've lost most of the inhibitions that kept me at least somewhat stable and healthy.
I've always been the type of person that can't really hold themselves back from indulging in short-term comforts - that's why I've drank soda every day for nearly 2 decades - but over the past few months it's certainly gotten worse. at the very least, I used to have a certain amount of money anxiety that prevented me from spending my money impulsively and recklessly, and I had enough self-control to know that eating sweets is fine in moderation so long as I balance my diet, but... well. that's pretty much all gone. the amount of money I've spent in the past month alone is embarrassing to admit, and I don't want to get into the amount of little treats I buy myself for no real reason.
I pretty much know exactly why I'm doing this. this year has been a unique and new (to me) hell on my mind and body and because I'm not getting fulfillment or happiness in other areas, I'm just defaulting to quick dopamine releases in order to get that feeling of satisfaction. but knowing about it doesn't exactly stop me from doing it, lol.
of course, I know about urge surfing and have successfully practiced it in the past, but nowadays it's like I can't even bring myself to care about wanting to improve. my scope of life has narrowed to a pinpoint in front of me only consisting of the next 30 minutes to an hour, so who gives a shit if I do things that effect me months in the future? that barely exists. why would I prevent myself from feeling good now when I basically feel like I'll be obliterated within the next day? who cares about the "future" when I'm alive in the present??
it's all very silly and childish, of course - but I can't really bring myself to "grow up," in a sense. when I can hardly muster up the energy to drag myself through a single day at a time, working on healthy habits for a future version of me that doesn't exist yet just feels pointless.
at the beginning of the year I made one single new years' resolution and it was this: allow myself to recognize and appreciate moments of happiness as they come to me, and sit with them, rather than brushing past them and focusing on the negatives. well. I chose the worst possible year to do that one, I'll say that much. the cards I was dealt don't really jive with that whole idea.
I don't really know why I'm writing this all down but I guess I just needed to get it out. there is a part of me that wants to get better, that wants to try, that wants to take the harder path because it knows it's worth it... but when all the rest of me can't manage to get out of bed for more than three hours at a time, that little part doesn't hold much sway. maybe I'll get back there eventually, but for now it's just me. stuck in my endless loop of little dopamine releases.
maybe I'll buy another snack.

I feel like there are less popsicles that have jokes on the sticks than there used to be. my computer refuses to believe 'popsicles' is even a word. has all childlike wonder gone out of the world entirely?

The house is kind of cold but thankfully not too much. another guy from the gas company came to shut off one half of our duplex's gas without bothering to check which half first. this time, thank god, they got it right, and we still have our heat. I wonder not for the first nor probably the last time if this is all there is to life, arguments with strangers and a vague, shapeless, ignorant anger at abstract concepts like 'the gas company' and 'the government.' today while going to the bathroom I stared at the door ahead of me and wondered if this feeling is permanent. will it be like this forever? but then again, I should know better - every time I've gotten comfortable in life, it's been snatched away. things must always change. it's the only constant.

today I sat outside for a while and wrote more of this little pet project that keeps tearing my old wounds back open and stinging them again. it's helping, at least I think. I sewed these wounds shut without cleaning them first and they've been rotting from the inside ever since. they needed to breathe a bit anyway. I keep writing and it keeps unraveling before me and I am really quite proud of it despite the consistent nagging feeling that if anybody got a hold of this and read it they would think it self-aggrandizing and boring. I'm split between posting it and keeping it to myself forever, letting it rot away in obscurity with all the rest of my projects. for now, at least, I think it's fulfilling enough just to be writing it. in the idyllic fantasy of my mind I picture it fully printed, self-designed cover art and all, being held aloft giddily by some book reviewer online. there's a strange belief I've held onto since as far back as I can remember where, if I imagine a future scenario for myself for too long or in too much detail, I'm certain it won't come true - I have spent most of my life stuck in a stalwart refusal to daydream about my daydreams. This is one such thing. I quickly swat at the thought cloud above my head harboring the image so that maybe one day it has the chance to come true.

I'm more than slightly tipsy on grocery store pre-mixed margarita. I was shooting for the Capriccio Sangria, but my local place didn't have it in stock, so I fell back on ol' reliable - Rancho La Gloria. I've just eaten a cranberry fruit punch flavored popsicle. tomorrow I have horrible pressing responsibilities and the drab reality of waking up in a shitty broken-down house with no real plan for life and no hard direction. it all feels incredibly dull.

I have no idea where I was going with this. just sort of writing out my thoughts. I recently started reading The Pale King by David Foster Wallace (as I've tried and failed to start up Infinite Jest multiple times, I theorized that starting with one of his smaller works might ease me into it), as well as Villette by Charlotte Bronte and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. I find myself wanting to read all the time yet as soon as I pick up a book it's never the right one. all of my creative projects have fallen by the wayside outside of, at the very least, a little bit of writing. my computer has once again started acting up. but all this to say it's 1:30 in the morning and I should probably go to bed and let all these thoughts float away into my dreams. I'm enjoying reading right now, it's just coming to me slower than it has in the past. my creative projects are waiting for me once it's the right time to pick them up again. there are still cranberry fruit punch flavored popsicles and warm spring weather days and hours of free time that I can spend however I please. I am still alive and as much as I am loathe to believe it during more lucid times I do still enjoy existence. I will make the most of my consciousness. however I can.

and so the cycle repeats and I, the stupid naive little sisyphus, once again must push this goddamn rock up shit hill.

look. it isn't all bad. but I haven't had a functioning dishwasher or clothes dryer the entire time we've been on this lease so far, our toilets are leaking and nobody can find the source, there's a very concerning water stain on the ceiling that I swear is growing, and despite paying all our bills on time some idiot from the gas company just came and shut our gas off cause he couldn't be bothered to find which gas main belonged to which building unit and fucked off before we could stop him. so, I'm writing this from a house with no heat! isn't that wonderful!!

I'm fed up with life. top this all off with another stupid argument that my roommates got into which has nothing to do with me, and I just want to scream. I'm trapped in this lease for another 11 months and don't have nearly the money to do another big move besides, so I'm rooted in place and I feel like I'm gonna go crazy. my well of empathy is all but completely dried up with this whole thing. I feel I've been more than patient and more than accommodating with all of this bullshit and it's granted me nothing but further issues. what exactly am I supposed to do here?

I find comfort at the very least in knowing that I do have somewhat of a backup plan - if things really go nuclear I can just move back in with my parents, I'd likely have to keep paying rent and utilities on this stupid goddamn house but they'd at least be willing to lend a hand in that, sympathetic as they are with all the stupid goings on recently. but it's hard to keep trudging along this ridiculous path knowing that I could just leave all this unnecessary stuff behind and return back to a comfortable life of doing nothing all day and mooching off my parents.

I know I won't do that, but god is it tempting. I try so hard to do things and grow as a human being and all I get in return is more things going wrong. what's the point if all I get is more hardship? I have zero ability to do anything at all because every second of time I have to myself is dashed by some new issue with the house or some new stupid fight I need to get caught up on or some new something that always makes it so that my plans are the ones that get cancelled. I'm sick of it all. why did I even move back out here? what am I even wanting out of life? I can't handle the basic stressors of most minimum wage jobs, I can't find a job in the field I got a degree for because I'm not good enough at it I guess, and I'm far too mentally ill to post consistently enough to luck into internet fame. so what the hell am I doing out here, working a job that's slowly killing me to pay for a life I hate?????

this is all overdramatic and whiny, I know, and I'd be kind of embarrassed for anybody to actually read this - but I need to type things out to get them out of my head so they don't clog up the place, at least. I'm incredibly frustrated and have no outlet for any of it. sooo... doing great! loving life! yaaay!

okay sarcasm over, I'm gonna go be a grown up now and actually try and process my feelings and employ some coping skills.

okay, I've officially named this recipe blog horror idea (working title so far, but I've taken to calling it Tablesetting), so it's officially being added to my list of Things to Do. since I've been really dragging my feet with the Aperture Record recently, I'm hoping focusing on this other thing for a while will rekindle my spark later on and I'll be more inclined to return to it... we shall see.

uhh this got kinda long, stream-of-consciousness word dump below of me trying to get all the thoughts rattling around in my head out on a screen so I can make some sense of em and actually start writing this thing

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but, as always, we'll see if I can manage to stay on-course when writing and not just let my brain able along in whatever direction it pleases, as has been the case with most of my previous projects. overall, I think I have a solid idea of where I want to go (more solid than the Aperture Record right now, at least) and I'm kind of excited to start writing it! I plan to experiment with voice a looot, since Della's initial writing style will be very mass-market appealing and somewhat bland, but evolve and devolve with the wild things that start happening to her. looking forward to what will come out of that :3

2nd book of the year!! I'm currently on a short visit with my family back in Texas and let me tell you, the empty small town beset with overcast foggy weather here was the perfect setting for this book. I finished this all in one sitting and after closing the book at 3am I went to go get a snack and felt incredibly unnerved walking the short distance from the guest house to the main house in the misty fog. especially because we often have javelinas wandering about between houses at night...

anyway! annihilation. such an incredible book. I had seen people online posting about the movie and often preferring the movie to the book, but given my curiosity that just made me want to read the book and figure out what all the fuss was about. I really enjoyed it! it hooked me really well and, despite my usual dislike of super spartan "flat" writing, this book utilized it incredibly well and it worked perfectly to contrast against all the wild stuff happening.

okay, thoughts below, getting into spoiler territory ahead!

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i tend to post mostly my self-indulgent fanfic here in relation to jaws but the reason it as a movie and cultural touchstone intrigues me so much is mostly how absolutely 1970s America it is. top to bottom it exists as a perfect little time capsule of white middle-class American sentiment in that timeframe and it leaks out in everything, from the writing to the characters to the actors and directors themselves.

I forced my roomie to watch it a little while back (their first time seeing it) and they were floored by the indianapolis speech because from a modern, or at least just slightly more culturally aware perspective, it's like "is this supposed to be... admirable? is this supposed to garner sympathy?" and that line of thought got me thinking about Quint as a character and his differences in book vs. movie. i came away from the whole thing thinking basically:

no matter what, Quint wins. in a cultural sense, at least.

uhh have a cut here cause this seems like it'll get long

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a few hours after midnight on January 1st I had the offhanded thought "huh, I'd like to read more..." so basically this is me trying to encourage that habit. I've just finished my first book of the new year!

Ezri, who hasn't spoken to their mother in years, is called back home to their parents' idyllic suburban Dallas mansion following a series of concerning texts. Throughout the course of the book they, and their two sisters Eve and Emanuelle, will have to confront the traumatic memories of their childhood in a house that they have all determined to be terribly haunted - though the reality of what happened at 677 Acacia Drive is a bit more complicated than that.

I was gripped from the start, both because it's haunted house related AND set in Dallas, Texas. growing up in that area, I had a strange familiarity with the events of the book in a way that made it so much more immersive. I could see the interior of the airport the characters stood in, I knew the look of the streets they drove down, the heat of the summer sun. I was also deeply compelled by the exploration of Black identities in the racist infrastructures of American suburbia. The book doesn't shy away from the constant low-level (and sometimes straight up blatant and high-level) stream of discrimination and exclusion that Black people face to this day in predominantly white spaces.

Okay, some spoilers ahead, time for my detailed review!!

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it seems I've become caught in the crossfire of some sort of spat between my roommates. I have no clue the extent of it, as we all have different work schedules and it's often that we aren't even in the house at the same time, but when we are the vibe is absolutely poisonous to be in. then again, as someone who's been in a permanent fawn state since I was about three years old, my vibe detection sensors are violently oversensitive and prone to making me worried to physical sickness when it's absolutely not necessary... so maybe I'm overreacting a bit.

there is certainly something going on, though. I won't get in to detail but it's absolutely agonizing to be around the house recently. I'm hiding out at my little coffee shop, writing some jaws fic and trying to relax, but it's hard to unwind when my 4 days off have been tainted with the air of anxiety at whatever is going on. to make matters worse, I have no idea if I've done something to draw their ire as well, since instead of communicating we're all just sort of existing in this weird pattern of ignoring each other and doing our own thing. it feels absolutely childish, but I have no idea how to approach this, or how to get everyone to say their peace and be done with it. one of my roommates gets home late and practically sprints into his bedroom as soon as he's through the door recently.

I just really wish I could unwind and actually relax. it feels like it's just one thing after another, and I don't get any time to catch a breather before something else blindsides me. I get so overwhelmed with fear and anxiety that I end up switching to angry instead, and that type of anger and irritation doesn't help anybody.

I have been realizing recently just how little I've ever actually been or held onto my anger. I try to bend my will to appease as many people as possible, and in doing so, there's definitely no room for me to be angry or upset or anything. I let go of grudges nearly as soon as I make them. I try so hard to forgive and forget, and let everything slide off me. Well. It's not exactly the healthiest way to be. I'm wondering if I'm entitled to some frustration in this situation... but also I worry that what I'm actually doing is making other peoples' arguments and interpersonal issues my own and then getting angry when I get anxious about something that isn't actually much of my business at all. how much of this is even my problem??? I have no way to know, as none of us are communicating with each other. have I done something? have I not?? am I just sort of a background character in all this???

anyways, sorry for the silly vent posting recently. I'll try to lighten up on doing this, as I think spewing all this out on the internet isn't the best coping mechanism. Thankfully I've got a therapy appointment scheduled soon and can talk some of this out with a professional. that's where I'll try to leave most of this stuff in the future, rather than a public website.

jaws fic is going pretty well, though!

I was gifted a pair of Doc Martens for my birthday in 2019. given my propensity for not buying shoes, and wearing the few I have until they’re naught but crumbs of rubber and fabric, they immediately became the only shoes I wore (barring formal events) right up until this month, in 2024.

I was hesitant when I first put them on, recalling all the talk online about how annoying and painful it is to break in a pair of Docs. I’d watched a few videos in preparation, but when I put them on… they were fine. it really didn’t hurt all that bad. I was careful to wear thick socks each time I wore them, so no blisters or sore spots, and the leather really wasn’t as hard and inflexible as everyone was saying. so, I continued to wear them nearly every day of my life for 5 straight years. I had one or two other shoes for when I needed another option, but by and large, if I was putting shoes on, it was the Docs. I loved them. I still do! they're super sturdy, look great, and they never hurt my feet.

well, I got a job recently, one that requires me to walk a little bit. it's a 15-20ish minute walk depending on how spirited my stride is but because of my horribly out-of-shape body, going from walking 0 minutes a day to 30-40, and having to stand for 7 straight hours in between, my feet started to hurt terribly bad. as loathe as I was to do it, I had to go out and buy a pair of sneakers with cushioning and proper arch support.

poof! foot pain gone entirely! not only that, but the rest of my legs that were caught in the crossfire and often got sore by the end of the day also stopped hurting! suddenly that 15-20 minute walk became no big thing at all. standing at work is still mildly uncomfortable but way less so than before. I find myself wanting to walk more, and to go outside more, and my earlier propensity to sit around inside all day is replaced with a restless desire to go and stretch my legs sometimes.

a week or so ago I went out to run some errands with my roommate and, out of habit, put my Docs on instead of the sneakers. instantly, the discomfort and foot pain returned. we weren't even walking too far, but it was enough, I was nearly limping by the time we got back. it made me wonder... was I always in this much pain? was I just so used to the feeling that it didn't register as discomfort to me? it feels nearly unbearable now, yet I never even noticed it before.

anyway, I think there's a pretty blatant analogy in there for something. just thought it would be fun to write out.

I've written a little over 10k words in the Aperture Record! yippee!! now the problem is... I'm considering throwing a good chunk of it out.

I'm not quite there just yet, but I'm definitely considering it. I'm looking at the outlines I have for these first few chapters and the things I've written so far and I find myself wondering what exactly I'm trying to say here, or if anybody would even find this interesting. I kept telling myself I'm writing the setup right now, and things will get well and truly wild and interesting later, but... I fear I'm going in circles stalling myself by writing the setup and never actually getting to the interesting part.

I enjoy what I have so far, don't get me wrong - I just don't think the majority of portal fanfic readers will find my 6ish chapters of dry, academic-style analysis all that interesting... but I don't know. this thing certainly needs a couple drafts before I'd consider it finished, so maybe rewriting it a few times would help me in that department. overall, though, I'm not too sure what I'm wanting to convey if and when I do get to the wild and interesting parts. my greatest fear is this thing accidentally morphing into one of those looong youtube videos that promise analysis or interesting commentary on a thing and only end up recapping every ounce of the thing with no additional interpretation. I want to use portal as a game series to say something!! it's so full of both blatant and subtle themes about capitalism and American sentiments towards ephemeral ideas of 'progress' and 'advancement' at any cost! I want to be able to contribute to that and make something that resonates with people!! I'm just not sure what exactly I want to explore here. should I also focus on the themes of corporations and capitalism in america? should I focus on personhood and the systematic denial of it to marginalized communities? should I focus on a situationist interpretation that focuses on the heightened unreality of Aperture as an institution? rrrgh I just find myself incapable of picking a direction and walking in it, instead ambling in random squiggles all across the map.

I think there may be room for all of these things within the record, but really, I want the large overarching theme to be the use of capitalism in 1900s america. the other ideas are sort of branching subgenres of that lens anyway, at least I can write it that way. perhaps I just need to keep that overall theme in mind when writing, and I'll have more of a direction. I don't know. for now, I'm gonna shift focus to a different part that excites me a bit more, and hopefully that will spark some inspiration for this intro bit.

also... I should really draw some. I've been writing for weeks now because it takes a bit less energy for me and I've been exhausted at this job, but now that I've got a cool five days off I might as well actually do some of the thing I'm passionate about, lol.