INVINCIBLE

So I was watching the latest House and (OMG SPOILER!!*) his patient's daughter is all crying and telling her dad 'You can't die! You're my daddy!' and Rambo gets very confused and starts telling me that that logic makes no sense whatsoever.

I quite loudly and vehemently told him that it made perfect sense because DADDIES ARE INVINCIBLE and my Daddy can't die because he's my daddy.

Rambo decided that daughters are weird. I explained that it's not just daughters; Moxie knows he is invincible because he is her daddy. He didn't seem convinced.

Hrmmm.





*EDIT: I say spoiler even though it's perfectly common knowledge that House's patients are pretty much in constant state of 'terminally ill' and anyone who's ever watched an episode of House would know that - and anyone who hadn't wouldn't care - because occasionally people from TLR read this blog and there's been super-lots of drama lately about the 'no spoilers' rule.

Hint: It's common knowledge for anyone who's ever watched ANY episode that House's patients are in fear of dying. It's not common knowledge whether they actually die or not in any given episode. You don't sit there at the start of the episode and go 'oh I've seen this one! She dies!' do you? Well, maybe you do. If so, you're a bastard.

Along these lines - it's common knowledge that Harry Potter is a wizard. It's not common knowledge what happens at the end of the last book, no matter how long it's been out for. WHY CAN YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THIS!? COMMON SENSE. (and courtesy)

STFU

You know what really sucks? Having someone from your past constantly brought up in conversation. With everyone. Complete strangers keep trying to talk to me (or in front of me) about some bitch I went to school with who made my life miserable.

Yeah, she's famous now. I don't care. She was a stuck up bitch BEFORE she got famous and it did NOT help matters. Kindly shut the fuck up about her.

Ganged Up On

You know how The Music Man is a horribly bad influence on Rambo when it comes to video games? Well, about a week ago, he was back to stay for a bit (he's pretty much moved out to student housing in Crewe now but still back and forth for a few days every couple weeks and paying a bit of rent) and he's playing WoW on his laptop in the front room and talking to Rambo about it and I'm pretty much blocking it all out because I really couldn't care any less about WoW at this point - it's been a year and a half since I last played, it fucked my wrists right up when I did, I ebayed my warrior with all of her bazillions of pets and mounts and achievements that I'd spent years gathering, and I'm pretty sure that my account's banned from being connected to ebaying (I transferred the warrior onto a brand new account to ebay it) - but TMM somehow convinces Rambo to play again.

So there the both of them are, running instances and discussing all the changes that have occurred in the last year and a half since me and Rambo played and all the changes that will be happening come Cataclysm. And I'm doing my best to ignore them. And they're discussing all of these cool new pets and forcing me to look at the pretty models. And telling me how all of the tanks on their server suck these days and wasn't it awesome when I was tanking for them and they had the best tank on the server? And they're short on healers too, and I made a kickass healer.

And I'm ignoring them. And they're talking about my tree, who I do still have, unlike the tank, and I'm ignoring them, and they're spending hours playing WoW and I'm feeling lonely and left out. And I'm ignoring them. And they're telling me how my huntard can have 20 pets in the stable and 5 active now, rather than the 3 in stable 1 active she had last time I played. And I'm ignoring them. And they're telling me about all the new pets I can get in Cataclysm. And I'm ignoring them.

And then Blizzard sends me an email this morning offering me 7 free days of gametime if I come back before Cataclysm. And I figure they wouldn't have sent this email if my account really was banned. And I remember my password.

...

I'm up to 13 pets at the minute. I need to save a few slots for Cataclysm.

*sigh*

And I realised that auto-attacking on a BM huntard is actually easier on my wrists than writing. And this does not bode well for NaNo.

Day 13

Okay, it's the 13th and I'm sort of vaguely starting to catch up. Wrote more than the normal daily of 1667 yesterday but not enough to meet my personalised catch-up daily goal of 2045 *sigh*

Anyhow, have some more stats:

Day: 13
Wordcount: 11045
Word wars won: 2
Ideas for new stories that will have to wait until December: 5
Cups of writing-juice (tea) consumed: 13
Days spent entirely in bed: 4
Days spent entirely in pyjamas: 8
Ready-meals eaten: 3
TV breaks (1 episode each): 17
Interesting new ways to procrastinate found: 10*
Random questions answered at the reference desk: 16
Declarations of 'Oh shit my wrists are totally fucked, I can't type anymore!': 28
Times shouted at puppy who so desperately wants to play: 3 (I AM ASHAMED!)
Times lied to get out of real life commitments: 1
Times tricked by NaNo forums into writing more: 4
Appearances of TSoD: 0
Appearances of Mr. Ian Woon and his alter-egos: 0
Unintelligible screams: 4
Dreams about NaNo: 1
Tears of pain: 5
Tears of failure: 3
Tears of depression brought on by MC: 1
Tears of unrelated-to-NaNo depression: 4
Days too sick/out of spoons to write a word: 6
Delirious ramblings: 4

*If you're interested, those are: These stats, NaNo forums, reading random people's synopses, helping code the NaNoBot on dA chat, Christmas shopping, givesmehope.com, fmylife.com, creating writing-music playlists, etiquettehell.com, hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com

Unintelligible Screaming

I've not really gone into much detail about The Mother on this blog as, well, thinking about it all invariably makes me cry. All I'm going to say is that she was verbally, emotionally, neglectively (is that even a word?) and even occasionally physically abusive. And neither me nor Sister have spoken to her in a good few years. No more details. Just yet, anyhow.

Aaaaanyway. In trying to find out things about our EDS, my sister decided to email her asking for our medical records and asking about our childhood milestones. Being polite, but formal, and in no way friendly or inviting her to suddenly start bombarding us with attempts at communication. She copied me in on the email, of course, and The Mother just hits reply to all. She always has done.

She sends us quite a few emails of inane, confusing, trying to get us to play into psychological games, mess with our heads kind of nonsense. Amongst all of that crap there was a very long email consisting of chilhood milestones and anecdotes. She touched on a few points that might be interesting so Sister replied and asked her some more about them. Her response, for some reason, broke down my defences of avoiding her games and made me cry. I should have just deleted the damn thing as soon as it appeared in my inbox, as Rambo told me to.

"You seem overly concerned about normal behaviour in childhood. Well statistics show that normal children have unhealthy diets and sedentary lifestyles. They are obese and don't like to run because their slack muscles aren't used to it. Your childhood was normal, if there had been a serious genetic problem someone would have noticed, you passed all your development checks. You have been an adult for a long time now. It's time that you faced up to certain facts and took responsibility for the choices you have made.

Perhaps you need some form of professional help to uncover the source of all this negative energy which is poisoning your life. There are plenty of self help books and support groups you could join.

You can't change your past. Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda little girl. You have to play the hand life dealt you. No take backs ok? All you can do is change how you feel about things. That may take some time, quiet reflection and support. When you are ready to learn the right teacher will appear."

And this was followed up with various links and nonsense about 'Moon Meditation' and 'the Power of Emotions'.

I just...I mean...we've both been displaying symptoms of this since birth, that should have been picked up on. I mean, they really, really should have. I would be horrified at a mother seeing the kind of things in her children that she did and not thinking anything of it. But then, I'm horrified at a lot of the things she did.

But anyway, the thing that made me cry (I think. I dunno, I cry at a lot of things) was that I just have an honest-to-God Phobia about people thinking I'm a fraud, now. Because of all of that nonsense. It sets me off on panic attacks that...well, to be honest, seem to be quite like autistic meltdowns in nature. I lose my ability to communicate, I burst into tears, my cognitive functions go slightly screwy in that odd way I have of layers of sound becoming overwhelming and I close my eyes and cover my ears to cut off as much sensory input as possible. If I'm alone or otherwise think I can get away with it - I scream my fucking head off.

I'm just...I'm mad at her. For not even understanding what she's doing to me. What she's done to me. She still sees herself as the angelic victim in all of this and can't understand how the things that she did were wrong.

I'm not going to tell you what things, but believe me, they were wrong. If any kind of social worker knew about them, we'd've been out of there in a heartbeat. God I wish I'd known about social workers when I was younger, or that this kind of shit was NOT normal.

I just needed to vent. Sorry guys.

NaNo-CLOWN

Sooo. Just about recovered from Thursday's NaNo-meet by Saturday. But we can't be having that, so I promptly came down with the worst headache I have ever had in my entire life around midday. I went back to bed by 4pm because I couldn't stand it anymore and sleep is usually the best way to cure headaches. Usually. I slept for an hour, woke up still with the blinding not-being-able-to-move-without-feeling-like-my-head-has-literally-exploded headache. Slept for an hour. Woke up with headache and rather disorientated. Slept for an hour. Woke up disoriented, headache, throat starting to hurt.

It goes on like this for a while, symptoms gradually getting worse until 10am the next morning. I managed to sleep a grand total of 16 hours (I'm assuming 2 hours total for all the little being-awake parts added up). I wake up confused and disoriented, have a coughing fit which sets off such an explosion of headacheyness that I get all lightheaded and woozy, adding to the confusion. Also sets my throat on fire.

Anyhow. Point is, I have a nasty sinus infection. I'm on some antibiotics for it now but it's nowhere near better yet and the confused-disoriented-lightheaded-woozy state is getting a bit silly. Case in point - in my delirious lightheaded state last night I suddenly started seeing a golden aura around Rambo. I suddenly understood all those weirdos who see auras; they're all just woozy and dealing with slight double vision! I was so amused by this that I looked up what the golden part meant and discovered that Rambo is under divine protection! But surely that can't mean God, as God doesn't exist. And surely I protect him from a lot of annoying people, so therefore I must be DIVINE.

Yeah, I really don't want to continue NaNovel whilst I'm like this. It's meant to be depressing LitFic. I don't want clowns* suddenly appearing in it.






*Why clowns? BECAUSE I JUST REALISED THAT THIS QUILT COVER IS COVERED IN CLOWN FACES. Cleverly hidden, well-disguised clown faces, BUT CLOWN FACES NONETHELESS.

First NaNo-meet

Went to my first NaNo-meet last night. Was fairly awesome. I'm not very good at this whole sociable nonsense and I was kind of dreading it whilst being excited about it but it wasn't that bad. I didn't manage to get any writing done because I was terrified of people looking at my screen and of course as soon as people realised this they started quite obviously staring and refused to look away. So they got a nice view of my desktop for a while. Which didn't help matters as I have it set to a NaNo calendar with some rather awesome writing and book-loving quotes on it so they were quite interested in reading it and refused to look away. Anyhow, I learned something yesterday - apparently it's socially acceptable to look at someone's screen but not to touch their laptop. I wouldn't do either, but I honestly don't mind people touching my laptop (though not the keys, without asking at least) but seriously freak out when people look at my screen. Apparently I'm a freak. Oh well.

Met a few cool people and made a few new friends. Was about the ratio of actual writers to retarded teenage roleplayers who think they can write that I was expecting though, unfortunately. But everytime the retarded kids tried to say something I just looked at (uhhmmm, just realised I don't have a blog name for her, but lets call her Green Python) and we both laughed and they got confused and wandered off. I was pleased by this. As was GP (Ooooh, bad name choice). This is her 8th time doing NaNoWriMo and apparently the last seven years the NaNo-meets have consisted entirely of idiots and she didn't bother with them after the first week.

I also met this primary school teacher (who I am going to call Trans-Dimensional Snail for reasons you will never understand). Teachers are awesome. I love teachers. Especially primary school teachers who carry stickers around with them for their classes. My laptop gained a new sticker. It is a tiger. The tigers are the best and only his favourite children get tigers *grins*. I have to write an extra thousand words over the normal word count goal to get a ladybird sticker next time though. I want the ladybird.

Anyhow, the meet was meant to be from 6pm to 8pm so at 8pm all the teenagers wandered off home, but that just meant all the interesting people stayed behind and I couldn't bring myself to leave them as I very rarely get to be sociable, especially with people who actually have similar interests to me rather than just obligatory sociableness with family*. I completely lost track of time as I was enjoying myself so much, and I wasn't the only one, and by 11pm or so people were getting phone calls from angry wives or just noticing that they have 13 missed calls and 5 messages that they hadn't heard because it was so noisy**. Oops. Most of them went home. Was just me, Green Python, Not-a-Knobhead and Fucking-DBA left. Bar decided to stop serving drinks around that time as well, but the four of us were still enjoying ourselves so much that we didn't want to go home so we decided to find somewhere else. I tell them I'll go if it's not too far and from that comment of course the whole spoonie-explanation-conversation ensues and we limp off to Burger King to get something to eat, with everybody walking ever so slowly for my sake and Green Python making jokes about the little old lady that she has to look after. They're all older than me!

Blah blah blah. Late-night Burger King is awesome. Realising that the night service bus only runs on Friday and Saturday nights rather than Thursday nights kind of sucks. Found myself stranded at the bus stop at gone midnight*** with six other people who also didn't realise that there wasn't a night service bus on Thursdays. Fortunately three of them were going to Salford so we all jumped into a taxi together and it only ended up costing a few quid to get home. They did make me (try to) run to get the taxi though and although I tried to explain that I really was going my absolute fastest and I couldn't move any quicker (not mentioning that my absolute fastest is ridiculously painful for me and trying to hold back tears whilst doing it) I got shouted at a bit. *sigh*

Point of all this rambling nonsense - meet-up was awesome but I'm overdrawn from the spoon bank and in ridiculous pain still and haven't managed to write a word since. Until this blog post. Which totally doesn't count. But is destroying my wrist nonetheless and I really need to fucking stop it.






*Although, socialising with writers is...uhh...odd, to say the least. We're all very interesting people who have a lot to say when we're talking about things we're interested in, but we're also all normally pretty unsociable. So when the conversation's flowing it's great but when the silence descends no-one knows how to break it and nobody cares for small talk. We were yo-yo-ing between the best conversations ever, friendly insults and in-jokes, to awkward silence. All night long. Was rather odd.

**For some reason we were meeting in Kro Bar, which is ridiculously expensive, really busy and noisy, has no plug sockets or free wifi, and really really really uncomfortable seats that I'm still paying for over 24 hours later. Green Python's going to organise us a write-in where she works from now on, so we can meet in a quiet place with tables and chairs and wifi and plug sockets and a kettle!

***Rambo was expecting me home about half eight or so, as I said it was meant to be going on until eight. He knew I was going without the wheelchair, and lugging my (pretty much lightest you can buy but still too heavy for me) laptop all the way there, and attempting to focus and be sociable, and would therefore be completely out of spoons by the time I got home, if not sooner. So, around half eight, he took the wheelchair and the puppy over to the bus stop and waited for me to come home. For an hour. Before giving up and going home and being upset that he hadn't been able to do nice things for me. And then dragging pillows and quilts downstairs, making up a hot water bottle and putting it under the quilt to keep it nice and warm for me. Remarkably, it was still warm and toasty when I eventually got home at one in the morning.

Day 2

Or day 3, possibly. Technically. End of day 2, anyhow. Still 23 hours of day 3 stretched ahead of me. Have some random NaNo-stats:

Day: 2
Word count: 5421
Word wars won: 1
Ideas for new stories that will have to wait until December: 4
Cups of writing-juice (tea) consumed: 6
Days spent entirely in pyjamas, in bed: 1
Ready-meals eaten: 2
TV breaks (1 episode each): 5
Interesting new ways to procrastinate found: 2
Random questions answered at the reference desk: 6
Declarations of 'OMG my wrists are dying I can't type anymore!': 12
Times shouted at puppy who so desperately wants to play: 2
Unintelligible screams: 4
Tears of pain: 0
Tears of failure: 0
Tears of depression brought on by MC: 1
Tears of unrelated-to-NaNo depression: 1

NaNoWriMo

This should cover it for the next 30 days:



I may post actual blogs too. I doubt it though. Already subluxed my wrist from all the typing.