It's also still 'live' at the moment, impressions are still zooming up.
The most interesting thing I'm learning from this is that most of the likes are by people with private accounts, and retweets include a reefer activist tweet accout slugging it out with police accounts and an anticonformist living near the pit of anticonformist conformity.
I've been thinking about doing throwback Thursdays for awhile. It's a little early for deer season, so maybe see what the beginning of September has been like through the years.
I had Scott listen to xxx's message on my phone today, and he just laughed. He was like "what an idiot..." O_O wow, I forgot about that. And, to be *really* frank about things, I think xxx's motivation for keeping me hooked up with xxx is so she can keep getting insider info on *cough*certainpeople*cough* and what's coming up in the future with the um, 'thing'. I asked myself this morning while I was frying some bacon what her motivation might be to keep me trying so hard... I mean, if she's that worried about her, SHE needs to be the one making the contact and taking on the burden. And she *could* have asked me for xxx's mailing address or phone number... She didn't....
A few thoughts looking back on that- I was not quite yet diagnosed autism spectrum, wildly hurting and misunderstanding something vital, and a frenemy, for lack of a better word, was playing double agent being sweet to me for 3 months. And she could have really been a sweet person, in either case, I'm eternally grateful for that daily contact keeping me from utter self destruction even if the entire thing could have been a golden opportunity for other people to stab me in the back. I'm finding consolation in the hilarious idea that my misinterpretation of emotional events was probably erroneously shared as gospel, and that the reason an entire fandom died down afterward was because our passion ran much deeper than anyone could have possibly imagined, but realistically, it was all probably kept fairly private by a level headed person that actually cared about us.
I've been seeing a psychologist for about 9 years now, way past the infantile fanaticism that tried to swallow us and drag us under. I've also been done for years with speculative gossip in fandoms. I have pages of my side of the pain, and it's still excruciating to read, but when I do glance back through a little, I see a very mixed up aspienado still emotionally incapable of processing through feels. I was as close as it gets to being like a dog that refuses to leave a grave of a passed on master.
This was a CF friend who'd been through a double lung transplant, which seemed to work for a little while. Much of my inspiration to keep going no matter what has come from talking to her. It's hard not to be inspired by someone zooming around doing stuff on 20% lung capacity because she wanted to.
I did find out about three hours ago that my friend did finally pass away at 4:00 yesterday afternoon, probably California time, which would be 2:00 for me. I remember I was laying in bed crying around that time before I fell asleep in a nap. And since I got the phone call there have been more emails to send, more phone calls. I've gotta go lay down. This week feels like it's already been 3 days longer than it should be.
Apparently I had a lot on my plate that weekend, plus that was also the same summer that I slowly lost being able to walk, starting nearly 3 months before, and which I was still hiding from the world at large.
I generally filter the really personal stuff, but this was one of my better attempts at trying to create a more readable whinefest. Remember, this is an autism spectrum + ADHD marriage. The communication dance is so familiar now that none of this bothers me any more. By this time I was back on my feet but still living in a remarkable amount of pain and mobility challenge. I should also note that my own mother was in a nursing home and I was her dpoa, and this was about a year before she died, which adds a little needed context. Also, we've been married 23 years now and we're still best friends. Also, these are my words, I don't represent anyone else's actual thoughts.
Starting over. I'm crabby. If you don't like it, wimp out now while you have the chance.
I had been asking Scott since last Friday to get with his mom about grilling and food and which day and what time and whatnot.
So yesterday I'd already had meat thawed for 24 hours, I was on edge, ready, no information.
At 10 a.m. yesterday morning he was watching a Hallmark movie (?!?) with his cutie Catherine Bell in it, when during a commercial he casually waves a hand and says "Oh, Mom said to call her about the food". Since Scott hadn't seen or talked to her since the day *before*, that was pretty suspicious... I said, "How long have you been supposed to pass this message along to me?" You ladies can appreciate the teetering edge of death Scott was on.
Apparently he and his mom had already discussed a full menu and the day and time and I wasn't important enough to be included in the loop, even though this cookout is, once again, at OUR house, and we're the ones with the meat, and I'm doing the major prep and clean up. I nearly panicked. I ~thought~ we had decided that the cookout was on Sunday, and that I had two hours to pull it off from scratch with barely any final notice. And here he was watching a Hallmark movie, of all things. He *never* sits around in the house watching tv on a sunny day.
The morning deteriorated down from there. I'm not the sort that yells, and I don't throw or slam things because I don't have enough control to not hurt myself doing it (good deterrent), but after the movie was over I sat the boy down and we had a little talk. Every weekend everyone else gets his full attention. The ONLY time I get Scott is when I ride in the car with him to get groceries. This has been so consistent that I made a bet with him a couple of months ago that we will not have a single weekend to ourselves the rest of the year without someone panicking and demanding his presence or his advice and support on the phone. Every weekend I remind him it's happening again. I've tried making a cute game of it, but this last Saturday he went to breakfast with his daughter and an ex-sister in law from 20 years ago who was in town and didn't bother telling me until an hour before he left, but he has yet to make a date with me where he actually plans a nice time out and turns off his phone. Every single week someone else gets him and I sit at home and wait for him to come back. Yes, sometimes we eat breakfast out when we go grocery shopping, but we never get through it without the inevitable phone call.
So he interrupts and asks me what I'd like to 'go do'... A movie, perhaps?
Um, I can't even sit on my own couch for two hours straight without having to be on ice, I can't walk very far without having to collapse from all the pain in my joints and back, especially since the fall, I really don't think I can go 'do' anything without being fully medicated. Unless he's willing to push me around in a wheelchair. I reminded him he said he'd take me to Bass Pro and use a wheelchair, but that was two weeks ago and we never went because another family emergency came up and he didn't have the time. So suggesting a movie was not only ludicrous, it was almost insulting because it means he's not paying attention to what I'm going through and what I'm needing. I'd be stuck sitting in the dark with staples in my knee and people crawling over me, having to stumble down steps if I needed to get up, and basically risking more injury. Really makes sense.
Anyway, that wasn't the point. The point was I was prepared once again to do something morally supportive for HIS parents (I never get to see my own), and no one bothered even talking to me while my stress level was slowly building while I kept asking for more information, on top of everything else I have to live with every day. Normally this really isn't a big deal for me (check my Christmas post for some really good context on how well I can handle this kind of stuff under extreme duress), but I felt easily waved off and unimportant. I know it's not true, but I'm the easiest person in the world to take for granted if I don't stand my ground and stick a fork in Scott's gut once in awhile.
Anyway, the cookout is TODAY, and Gram is going all out over it. She's making pasta salad and pie and something else, because she wants lots of leftovers so she won't have to cook all week. I found a bag of veggies in the freezer that will be really good in the fried spaghetti. I already boiled the spaghetti yesterday and have it in a big bag in the fridge. I'm going to have to make another batch of lemon bars.
So all the prep I did yesterday getting ready for company will be repeated again today. I'm starting all over again. Lunch is at noon, Gram is turning it into an Event, and Scott is busily being unavailable, crawling around the attic and setting the ladder up for later roof walking, when yesterday he watched a chick flick. I told him this is the last time I do this.
I've also told Scott that if he ever incurs a wound that needs a new dressing twice a day and has to be cleaned and watched for infection and he's having a hard time seeing it or reaching it, I'll be sure and do everything he's doing for moral support. Gag and walk off, check. Blurt that the sterile pads were made in China in the middle of him saying something, check. Make a big deal about how ugly the wound is, check. Take the opportunity to brush my teeth, check. Ask after 5 days if THAT is the tape he's using when it's been sitting out the whole time, check. Forget that he's in the shower and leave him standing there when he can't get out alone, check. Run off with other people and leave him to sit alone, check.
His ADD has been way off the wall lately. He's usually not this bad, but lately it's like we're not even in the same day or something. And breakfast with a sister-in-law from 20 years ago??? He loathes his ex-wife, he never stayed in contact with the family, but because Twinkles wants him to go, he goes and plays nicey nicey. Do we go visit MY family? No. Not in months. I haven't seen either of my parents since Christmas, and they are only 60 miles away. Scott is aware I can no longer handle the long drive myself, visit for an hour or two, and then do the long drive home.
Wo. Scott must have seen waves of pissiness over here in the corner. He just offered to make me some french toast... He NEVER makes breakfast for me. No matter what I'm going through, he never makes breakfast even for himself, even if he's up ahead of me. He *once* made his own breakfast after I hinted that he didn't have to wait for me to feed him, but it never occurred to him to make some for me, too. I'll tell ya, he is pure man. He's awesome for many things and takes great care of me in many ways, but when it comes down to the little personal details, I would get more attention if I were a dog walking around the house. I have a feeling the only reason I'm getting french toast is because he fears what would happen if he ate breakfast and didn't pay attention to me. I'm obviously not up bothering to worry about *his* stomach this morning. My knee swelled back up last night, it's all tight against the staples and feels awful, and I really don't care if he starves to death right now. Yep, I'd call this a pissy mood.
I'm sure this is all coming from this being PMS week and I'm just blowing it out before I need to get on top of stuff and be pleasant. But the fun feeling I had at the beginning of all this a few days ago has certainly deflated out of me, and now it feels like a big chore I have to get through.
Concentrate on how good the food will be....
And I know you all can appreciate this one-- now Scott is in my kitchen, asking me how to make french toast, adding to my new pile of dishes, and taking up time and space while I have to sit here and pretend to wait patiently and enjoy that he's being so sweet. We have four hours to company and all the big food needing to be ready, and I need a shower. But I'm waiting patiently while Rachael Ray in there turns french toast into a 30 minute meal.
I will try to be nice now.
The beginning of the chronic allergy problems after CMV took me down half the year. I was blowing it off in post that year, joke's on me, right? That was also the year I was awarded full disability, and the paperwork rolled in all around me into an almost 3 inch pile of medical history. This is what an asperger's diagnosis looks like to aspienado. I'm understanding all this a lot better now, but back then, most of this was a big blow to my world view and crumbled it completely apart, and I had to rebuild with awareness playing a major role in understanding my interaction problems. I'm not kidding when I say this has taken years.
Got my psyche assessment copy. The funny thing about Asperger's is the inability to self-evaluate in terms of normal standards, so a lot of this was a real surprise to me, and still cracks me up every time I think about it. I am "markedly limited" in my ability to perform within a scheduled time period and retain customary tolerances. I am "moderately limited" in my ability to understand detailed instructions and carry them out, sustain an ordinary routine without supervision, or work in proximity to others, and especially in my ability to ~accept~ instruction. (Memories of kindergarten coming back- does not play well with others, can't keep hands to herself, won't follow instructions, etc.) I also don't respond appropriately to supervision. Yep, yep, explains a LOT. But not really...
What that assessment doesn't show is that the stuff I don't tolerate well is something like one boss not being able to construct a sentence well enough in a log book to notice she's leaving out all the verbs and no one can understand what she's talking about, or another boss sending bottles of alcohol home with me as some kind of weird reward for some of my ideas inspiring new system-wide policy, or being pissed that another boss got a hefty bonus for Christmas after *I* discovered a $7 million mistake in the inventory. See, I see myself as actually getting things RIGHT, and I don't tolerate CRAP. Being honest about all that enough to express my irritability with a flawed system is anomalous behavior, though, it's not ~normal~. So I have a long history of moving from job to job to job because I couldn't tolerate the work atmosphere, but that shows up in my assessment as me being the one who has the psychological problem. Never been fired, but bosses are generally glad to see me go, no matter how much they've said I was the best whatever they ever had, because eventually I call them on inconsistencies that would cost them their jobs.
Also, besides being "narcissistic" (my aspie way of coping against the world, I guess, beats being clinically depressed), psyche guy expressed concern in the assessment that I am the sort who is easily taken advantage of. Took me 40 years to figure that out on my own, he can see it in just a few minutes.
Which kind of leads into one more thought on this last woman I'm getting away from online. After that big public retort, she has now sent out bulk emails with the contents of her latest blog post (the only way she can poke people into responding, perhaps), which is basically that she's not feeling well and has a picture of a cat laying on its back looking wiped out, yet still cute. See, I don't know how to respond to this stuff. First of all, her going out of her way to get attention like that kind of makes everyone else the bad guy if they don't hope she feels better, or at least say 'cute kitty'. But when I directly ask how she's doing, which I've tried to do a number of times through the years, I get no direct response. When I don't post for a long time, she'll email me and ask ~me~ how I'm doing, and I respond and apologize for not logging in and saying hi.
I sit in a logic loop with that kind of stuff and just puzzle over it, and it takes me forever to realize it's just a bunch of crap and attention-getting. Every 'friend' I've ever had online has done this, gone WAAAAY out of their way to get my attention and poke me for responses, but leave me hanging high and dry when it's time to reciprocate. I would *like* to have a friend. I have tried to have friends. For years I couldn't figure out what the problem was, then I figured out it was me with my Asperger's, and now I'm deciding it's really THEM with all their 'normal' baggage. I don't play the head games right, so I'm not a good friend. I still don't get it, but the psyche assessment is helping. Seeing all my stuff spelled out in one place makes it much easier.
My mom had died the year before, the disability mess had been replaced by an insurance mess, my doctor had bailed and abandoned her practice for hospital work on very little notice, and I was on daily steroid just to breathe. It was a very tired year, so I didn't write much sometimes, plus I was trying very hard to turn my attitude around.
Made a double batch of cornbread yesterday and got it all crumbed up and drying out overnight. Got my bowls of frozen stock and chicken livers out of the freezer this morning. Shooting for getting the stuffing made and in the freezer this afternoon.
Thunder rumbling around, little dark this morning. It really did dry out like I hoped for, lawn not only got crunchy but got so thin you can see the dust and dirt all over. A few trees are drying out. But along with that, all that intense amount of bugs just faded right out. Still have ants, but nearly everything else is also thinned way out. I was really tired of wasps at every door and mosquitos following me around. It was an excellent bat year, I hadn't seen so many bats around here in years. Even the spiders are slowing down, was killing one in the house every single day all summer (most ever since we moved here), now we're down to 2 or 3 a week.
Despite the lack of stuff to pick on when I let them out, chickens seem to be doing really well. Spencer is working on new feathers, finally lost her whole tail.
What a difference a year makes! I was off the daily steroid, changed my diet, lost 50 pounds, and had started physical therapy. Still wasn't quite ready to come out and play in public.
Toey wants you to know that if you have to go back months after ingrown toenail surgery to have more surgery digging way deeper to clean out old crusty callous past your nail bed that won't stop oozing more callous gunk that hardens like cement and you can feel the whole thing even with 3 numby shots, it's all right-- you *don't die*.
And then when you have to wait 20 extra minutes at the pharmacy for your antibiotic that was called in ahead of time because of a stupid insurance mixup (my life is cursed) and your toe starts throbbing as the numby stuff wears off, it's all right-- you *don't die*.
And then when you're driving home and get stuck behind a gravel truck and a school bus and have to put on the brake going downhill (yes, right-side Toey) and it's all you can do to keep your foot pushing on the pedal because your whole foot is starting to throb, it's all right-- you *don't die*.
And when you're still about 3 miles out your poor Toey feels like it's about to give birth to a baby hippo and you're screaming because no one will frickin' drive 90, it's all right-- you *don't die*.
And then you arrive home an hour after you leave the doctor and the numb stuff (for what it was worth) is all gone and you have to walk up the steps into the house and take your shoe off and hobble around getting an ice pack and a drink for your new pills and stuff, it's all right-- you *don't die*.
Toey and I agree this must be about what it feels like to get shot in the toe with a nail gun.
I am so proud of the fact that I haven't had so much as a tylenol since I stopped my years long friendship with vicodin that I'm being a real jerk and experimenting with Toey, saying I'm not going to take anything until I get dizzy with the pain and nearly faint. Toey swears she's gonna go stub on something to pay me back. At which point I'm pretty sure I will go ahead and black out.
Back out public and posting surveys like 50 Summer is Ending Survey and Real Things You Might Not Know About Me, which was a huge step considering I'd been in fandoms for years and barely anyone knew me at all because I'd been so reclusive about myself. Honestly, I think that's why Pinky blog is doing so well, although I never expected it. Having a real face show up after more than a decade of lurking and rippling through fandoms has become a big deal nowadays, especially in the more culty underground groups. I know fans who will never cross the streams between fandom and real life, and others who do it freely now. I published a pancake recipe for blueberry buttermilk applejacks (might hafta turn that sideways on mobile, they had a server migration and some of the awesome site coding got mangled). I had also accidentally stumbled into a traffic surge when I mentioned Lexx, and several days later started with a new Lexx Index, this time with a real photo of me on the blog as it gradually morphed back into a fan page. I wrote very little in private around that time.
OMG. The big Xanga server move crisis. From Lexx 2.0- coughing through the dust cloud.
Well, isn't this fun. Lost my header, background is eating up the text no matter how I soften it depending on the text color, links generally seem to work HUZZAH, etc. Really not crazy about this text editor. I have so much more freedom on AOL email. That's a joke. But sadly, true.
The rest of that is bumbly stuff, because from there it kept going downhill for awhile. Salvaging several blogs at high personal expense was about as stressful as anything else I'd ever been through, and since I've been through some hellaciously stressful stuff, that's saying something. I had just come back out public from a long haitus, and *boom*, there it all went again. Thankfully, Myke caught me in a safety net, and around the beginning of September that year I was blurbing about bacon and being in a podcast and the new blue convo lines on twitter, plus I veered into side posts about Superhero Undies and Bacon Coffee in desperate attempts to stay distracted from the sheer volume of depression watching my entire fleet go down. I also attempted to pull myself together on wordpress that week with So, Lexx..., trying to make up my mind if it was worth the salvage again.
This was one of my last private posts that year before I went all public.
Well, this sux. My archives are all saved, but my manually built theme html doesn't appear to have any support here at Xanga 2.0. I'm at a loss how to build a header into this. I'll dink around here for a few months but if I don't get this figured out, I'll be moving my stuff to something I can handle playing with better. I may have to go over to Wil Wheaton's word press and rip off his source code and figure out what the crap he did.
I mean, for now I'm not sure I can even change my font style within this draft page. And the whole password protected thing, honestly, they couldn't migrate their protected lists? My special lists are gone. ALL my stuff immediately went full view public, so I had to go into pinkfeldspar and yablovh here and find advanced settings and set the whole blogs to follow lock and TURN OFF the approve automatic followers. I don't want just the sign in block because anybody with a xanga could still see it then. There is no telling who might have seen my stuff if they were truly stalking this move. Anyway, I'm guessing that all my previous posts here are NOT password protected... They are all public except I have this set to follower lock, and you are my only follower.
I got into sploit and turned off your automatic approval for new followers, but I left it on sign in lock. It's up to you if you want follower lock. I don't know who follows you.
Funky week. Got my Microsoft Office purchased, XLibris contracted a premium package with me at 50% off, and I'm going to hope that maybe it's a good thing this is all sucking right now so I'll bury my head in getting my manuscript ready. Really pissed about my blogs though. But when have I ever not been? haha
Aaaaand I still don't have that book written... Moving on.
In Sept 2014 I announced on mobile viewing that my Bluejacky surveys would be moving to Surveypalooza, had just previously announced that the Lexx fan blogging would continue at Lexxperience, wrote a blurb on SyfyDesigns about diverting into salvage instead of continuing writing on my book, and through the year kept myself occupied on the side with scifi reviews at SyfyDesigns. I decided the only way to make sense of that entire scattered mess was to come out as a real person living real life on a new Pinky blog, and in 2014 around this time I was buying a new dresser and had a Bunny in my life, as shared on conquering resolutions, so it was like my whole life tipped over all at once. I also spent the year salvaging some of my content over to my new aspienado and ducklordsofthesith blogs.
On this day last year I wrote SyfyDesigns. I was back on my feet and feeling thankful that I had come through to the other side of all that world crash. I think it's funny that I never remember the 2nd is Myke's birthday, but I always wind up feeling nostalgic and rediscovering it.
I'm otherwise actually kind of tired of 2015. What a long year! I see absolutely no reason to recap any of it, except to say Lexxperience really started rocking and Pinky blog kind of exploded. It was all wonderful and hard and sweet and sad and I was so depressed and ecstatic and my whole world turned into Sherlock, and I've been winding back down from it with minecraft through 2016. I also didn't go back through my spaz blog over the years. I'm really tired of being a chronic super spoonie, and it still consumes so much of my time that I don't care to look back at it right now.
I've always loved this song. You guys can look at Benny if you want, I'm going to get up again and go do stuff. This song goes with the whole Pinky blog love letter. From the very start, everything I've ever done is about getting back to where it all went off track, embracing all my flaws and learning how to get past them for better relationships, and now I'm back on track, and I will never let go of her again.