-Mobile continuation from Xanga blog PinkyGuerrero
-Most of the graphics and vids click to sources.
-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Wednesday, May 4, 2016

in hell

I wrote this first bit yesterday afternoon around 4ish.

This whole encrypted thing blogger has switched to isn't solving any problems on my end. I'm still getting the same bot hits on the same stuff. I know, it wasn't meant for that, but it would've been nice. It's all about protecting reader privacy (Google, who owns Blogger, is the one tracking your cookies), not about protecting the content creator from bug hacks. I've got 5 different app crawlers visiting regularly now. Thank goodness they're still pretty much on the more respectable side of hitchhiking.

I feel like whining lots more, but I told my head only if it can fit it into limericks. We're at a stand off. It's pretty serious when my head refuses to pop out a few limericks. Nope, we can't even settle on youtube. It's bad. I think this is about as close to absolutely stalemated as my head and body have ever come. I'm sure I've had much worse days, but the pain and depression stuff always stayed just enough off balance that one or the other could be cajoled.

In the meantime, in the darkest back corner of my head, a laugh starts to snicker, then cackle, and is now practicing its MWAHAHAs in the mirror. This, this is where the evil lurks back out of the shadows, during the stalemate that keeps the rest of my head deadlocked in disagreement.

Oh, here it comes...

I ran on and on in the snow
I  looked over every meadow
I climbed every part
And dug to the heart
Looking for more I could know

I tried every corner I could
Ran up and down every wood
I knew there must be
An original key
To unlock a mind
Like a map left to find
Wherever a person once stood

And once it was found
My heart was unwound
By the most amazing chateau


Now it is today.

My dream last night was absolutely ridiculous. My dad had arranged an end of world hunker down in bunkers kind of drama that would last at least a year, and I was put in charge of inventory. (I'm really good at inventory.) As I was running perimeter one last time before lockdown, I discovered that our plan had escalated into the surrounding populace joining in, and our tidy hidey hole bunker was now raggedly rimmed with vehicles and tents and groups of people and dogs that definitely made the entire thing look like a newsworthy shanty town, and I was a little more than upset that none of these people had thought to bring their own year's supply of food. I was about to go back inside perimeter and report to my dad when I woke up, and I can't even tell you the relief.

My childhood wasn't quite that bad, but the stories I grew up with bordered on that level of tension, yes. We lived on a sustainable farm and grew most of our own food, which we processed all by ourselves, and by most I really do mean everything but peanut butter and vanilla. We also bought 8 gallon jars of raw honey from a special farm once a year, too. Stuff like that. I grew up expecting the end of the world because that's how my dad played minecraft in real life.

So. Minecraft. I'm still struggling with actually building a real house. I finally chose a place, and when I started building, it all started turning into an evil lair. Which is cool, I love it, but a house. A designated living area. I have a place ready, but it's been what, a couple weeks? And I haven't been able to start on it yet for some reason.

I ran off to the mines again to think, and spent several days mining the biggest acreage of obsidian beds you ever saw. That got old after awhile, plus I have no idea what to do with the obsidian because I want a lighter colored house, not another bunker that is so dark I need glowing eyes to see anything. Ug.

So I ran back to singleplayer, then found out our old realm was back up and ran off to it. Did some cool stuff, but man, what I'm really really good at is establishing bunkers. I tried really hard to build a little house, really I did, but it turned into more like a meet up hangout than a house. I mean, it's cool and all, but it's not a house.

I'm hung up. I can't seem to actually build a real house. Everything in me resists it. I almost can't wrap my head around just throwing some walls and a roof up and calling it mine. All I know is that I want a whole wall of stained glass and light colored floors and a very high airy ceiling. I want to feel like a billionaire with nothing better to do than to drink something very expensive and gaze up at the stained glass while I talk to a pet fish in a little pool sunk into the floor.

What I finally found yesterday goes far beyond any evil design I ever came up with. The organization alone, the dedication to project, the extensive amount of work that went into the very careful owning all the things. It's the most powerful house-tree-person representation I've ever seen in my life. I bow to the sheer vision whispering explosions through my mind.

I came reeling away going that. THAT. That might have been something I could have dreamed of building if I'd had the vision, but my own vision is so stunted and corrupted by my childhood that I keep running and spelunking bunkers through all the worlds.

Imagine the two of us together. The two extremes. Two secret evils mirroring opposites in each other. The truly amusing thing to all of this is the quiet one behind the scenes hides the most stunning stuff, and the blabby one splashing around the interwebs hides in bunkers behind the scenes. Y'all can see my head. You open that door and you get a bazooka in your face. You do not want to open that other door. There is so much more than a puny little bazooka lurking in that head.

Yesterday convinced me I'd made the right decision. Come hell or high water, a few things are going to start changing.

You remember this song? I found this last summer and it became my survival mechanism through all the things crashing down in my head. All the Americans missing what yesterday's post meant, omg you have no idea. Several fans around the world started combing my blogs again. They know it's on.

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