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Monday, December 12, 2016

last of 2016 30 day challenge- Day Twelve

moment of silence for a special RIP
2 more days left until The Pinky Press Review goes *poof*. Every possible tweak shutting it down has been tweaked except the public archives. I won't be saving them. The paid part was a nice 18 month run, with 12 subscribers and nearly 2600 views. I imagine if those had been higher I would probably think a little longer about letting it all go, but honestly, even with all the blogging I do I'm surprised I let it go on as long as I did. The pro account is now cancelled, which means I can no longer manually rank and super tweak my content, including widgets and other coding, which is what made my paper unique, so I see no reason to hang onto it. I'm not going to keep relaying the same rubbish other free papers shuttle into their content curation off twitter.


In the meantime I have all the Gaston lyrics in my head, thank you so much, Disney. "No one hits like Gaston, matches wits like Gaston, in a spitting match nobody spits like Gason- I'm especially good at expectorating..." You can see all the lyrics here. You're welcome.

I got even, though. I have successfully brainwashed Bunny to Crayon Pop. And then we promptly had to listen to 10 more versions of the same song, so I'm dizzy with lyrics crashing around my head this morning.


It was so cute listening to Bunny trying to tell me she does that in 'gynassix' (dance moves), and she had to show us all the balance moves she's already being taught. On a chair. We quickly moved to spotter position, but that kid is pretty good, didn't bump or slip once.

Srsly need to pink it up a bit.



Was so wiped out after our 24 hour Bunnython that I totally fell asleep about 30 min into the Walking Dead. Woke up just in time to see Daryl crying in Rick's arms o_o so I'll hafta rewatch that sometime today. Can't tell you how many people I'm running into irl that are #TeamNegan. The show veered into an almost intellectual slant on philosophizing apocalyptic scenarios, and I'm enjoying the bigger picture puzzle. I thought about live tweeting, and actually nearly did, but my right arm and hand were hissing so loud at me last night I could barely even get a jacket on and off taking Bunny home, almost couldn't buckle my own seat belt, so I knew I'd better not push it. Seems to be a little better this morning.


Along with the rest of 2016, I'm throwing out social obligations and pressures. Aspienado stumbled a lot through most of that stuff, and I can see that intensely downsizing my interaction level over the last 10 days hasn't hurt any of my numbers at all. In fact, I've been extremely surprised that some of the numbers have actually jumped a little. Part of sellsellsell tactics that are pushed on social media are interaction techniques. Well, 4 1/2 years later, I can give you a solid thumbs down on drowning your feed out in chatter. From what I can tell, it all boils down to hubbing well (ease of accessibility is key), which most people still don't even know is a thing or how to do right (and they still smash it into a networking plan, which is self defeating) and acknowledging. It's important not to look like a bot running scheduled updates, which a lot of accounts do in between the chatter.

Honestly, I think what gives me the most incredible boost is that I have real friends, and I love them. I don't think I'd have learned all the good things I did without them. Aspienado might suck at small talk, but I'm the one who remembers your tweets and can find them again, even years later. When I say throwing out social obligations and pressures, I mean added self inflicted guilt over not clicking 'like' on every single thing I'm tagged in, or (and this is a funny way of looking at it) responding to a stray text from an outlying family member who otherwise never ever speaks to or contacts me. If it's not life or death, tossing a random hello at me is probably like tossing a leaf in the wind.

The real me is somewhere no one can find. No one ever asks me where I am when I time out. One way I keep Bunny asleep through the night at my house (very mobile sleeper) is with the Spa channel from Sirius Radio on Dish. That kind of music is super awesome for sleeping. I was looking for the instrumental version on youtube and ran into this version. THIS is my head when I time out. Years ago I used to attempt to describe my 'light on water' experience. My experience staring at light on water is instant nirvana. No one else exists. I don't miss anyone, don't think about anyone, don't question anything, don't even remember anything. I don't *think*. I just exist, and it's the most peaceful thing you can't even imagine. That people spend thousands of dollars trying to achieve this in a variety of ways (I laugh at meditation) tells me this is a valuable trait in autism.



Here is where the song itself comes from, the saddest success story ever told. If you don't know the entire Karen Carpenter story and how it broke through a mountain of solid ice, leading the way for millions trapped in depression, then you need to.

->lyrics<-



This is one of the best articles I've read about the retelling of this story in the continuing layers and intricacies of Karen's life in the public eye and how viewers judge what they can't see going on and how that has impacted the entire world. Karen died alone, but definitely not in vain.
Todd Haynes Deconstructs An Ideal Tragedy In SUPERSTAR: THE KAREN CARPENTER STORY

One of the reasons this story has stuck with me ever since it happened is because my daughter was born shortly after Karen died. I don't like venturing too much into personal things that aren't mine, but at the time I was watching one sister slip through high school with a regular sized bandana cinched through the belt loops in her jeans in lieu of a belt after another sister had been pulled out of school before graduating for not eating. There is a short span of time I can snapshot in my mind that beautifully reveals the unexpressed stress going on in my family, including my brother, mother, and father. For all of us to be so messed up (my words) and still survive- all us kids are still here with our own kids. We came through something together that no one else will ever know or understand, something we ourselves never really talk about together, just an incredibly sad spot buried in anorexia, alcohol (me and my brother), religious and political obsession (my dad) and depression on the verge of exploding (my mom). Thank goodness we all grew up and started having kids.

Thank goodness we are still here. I am probably the only one who has thought this every single day without fail. Ever since my car accident (yes, the one where my dad pulled me out of emergency rescue without so much as a sign of relief that I was even still alive and walked off after mom deposited me on a couch to keep internal bleeding), I have never taken my family for granted. We are a sad story, and we love each other very much, even if we couldn't say it when we needed to. Thank goodness our own children have taught us how.

Mom went on ahead, and it was hard, but it didn't undo us. We are not estranged from each other like some families do, even though I am the oddball that holds the rest at arm's length. Sometimes I feel sad about that, but though the fates are cruel and make it nearly impossible for me to handle venturing forth (living with multiple allergies and epipens means I don't casually visit where people own dogs, plus other factors), I like twisting fate into my own devices and bending them to my own will. As long as I am still here, Pinky will continue to find ways to say the things that matter.

The Pinky Press Review was clutter in my closet. Part of this month's 30 day challenge is clearing out the clutter so I can get to the real work.

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