#threewords

I think about this world a lot and I cry

August 07, 2021 :: 11:26 AM

UConn’s last pure white husky has crossed the rainbow bridge…

I’m a fucking mess right now.

I can’t even deny it… tear tracks are running down my face and I haven’t been able to stop the tears for days. (Other than when I need to pull my shit together for work, of course. They can’t see how broken I am.)

It started with the announcement that Jonathan XII had died.

Yes.

A dog that wasn’t mine… that I wasn’t even close to… is dead and I can’t deal with it.

I suppose, all things considered, I should have seen this coming.

I’m past exhausted.

I’m not sleeping.

I’ve barely been eating.

And, I’ve been waiting for this day.

My complete and utter breakdown.

The day the depression brings me to my knees.

Catharsis.

Why was the death of a dog such a big deal? How could something like that move me to the tears I so needed to shed?

Easy.

Despite my… complicated… relationship with my mother, she was a UConn grad, too. There was always a little bit of me that wished - that still wishes, if we’re to be honest (and when have I ever lied here?) - that she could have been there for those years. She was already dead by the time I was applying for colleges. Didn’t know that UConn was the absolute last school I wanted to go to. Because of her. Didn’t know that it was the only school I applied to. Also because of her… and that’s a story for another time. I’m already fucked up enough without revisiting that time of my life.

Standing at the practice field, staring at the Towers dorms. Dating a guy who actually lived in her fucking building. Having to walk past what was her room. She had left enough of her behind in a scrapbook that I was able to find her fucking room. And I don’t think I ever told the boyfriend that… maybe in passing, but not in enough detail.

SO. UConn. It was a place where I was able to finally define myself as something other than Helen’s daughter (even if I carried that weight around for four years). I lived through so much craziness over four years and I don’t regret a moment of it. We always wind up where we’re supposed to be, even if we don’t know it at the time.

Going to UConn was the beginning of a wild ride… again, it was a decision I will never regret and I will always be proud to be a Husky… and a hussy, because we’re Bus 4, after all. And a white Jonathan will - even after all this time - be my husky.

And the last white one is gone. With a generic husky taking his place.

My UConn is gone.

My mother’s UConn is gone.

Replaced with an imposter.

And, while you may not understand why, it hurts. Badly.

To make matters even worse, I just finished a piece of Drarry fan fic that has brought me to tears over the past two days.

Fuck, I wish I could write like that.

Seriously.

It started with Draco in New York, recreating himself, working with at-risk kids and turning his back on all things magical and Malfoy. He ends up sharing dreams with Harry, and it is like the slowest burns of slow burns. Of course, I didn’t cry when Evan killed himself. I didn’t cry at the too real emotions that Draco was going through. Nope. I bawled like a fucking baby when Harry showed up in New York. And then I cried harder when he left. And then I cried even harder when he came back. It. Was. Beautiful. I love when fics break me like that. I really do.

Oddly enough, that level of heartache spurred me on to clean up the mess I made in the Otayuri fic I’ve been working on… until that vicious editor in my head decided to speak up. Yes, editor, I gave up on the slow burn. No, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. No, there won’t be any age-inappropriate scenarios. Yes, this is all Otabek Altin’s fucking fault. Three drafts, three fucking drafts, and he’s all ‘eyes of a soldier’ and Люди могут забыть, что вы сказали. Могут забыть, что вы сделали. Но никогда не забудут, что вы заставили их почувствовать. People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.  (God bless Google and Russian language blogs for giving me the ultimate apology quote…)

But the editor did what they set out to do and, well, imposter syndrome.

So, I just wasted a bunch of time rereading all seven of my published fan fics, all the comments, and just started at my statistics.

I’m never going to be a Sara’s Girl, or bixgirl1, but they all did better than I would have thought.

For me, not you, I submit the following for those days when I feel like I can no longer make the words do the thing good because englishing is hard:

 

 

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Don’t Panic! / Not Again!

June 12, 2021 :: 10:35 AM

And so, Don’t Panic - the most recent BotF winner - heads into the finals

I should have posted this AGES ago, but the last Battle of the Fandoms team I was on was Hitchhiker’s themed. It’s a bit of an odd book, one I don’t read often enough, but it was transformative when it came into my life. I can’t read it without thinking of the ex who forced it on me (and who I almost stole it from.) We are still friendly and I’m glad… he was such a huge part of my life.

I digress.

Right now, I’m running for another Hitchhiker’s team in the ‘season finale’. This team will most definitely lose. (There are a LOT of miles between us and first place. Possible, but highly unlikely. I mean, ANYTHING is possible during Racery.)

Normally, I let it bother me… but after a bunch of low milage Racery events, I’m done.

D.O.N.E.

Done.

I’ve gotten to the point where work is almost manageable. I’ve been working half weekends instead of full ones, so that’s progress.

I ran my first miles for Not Again last night. A 10K. The first long run in a while.

And…

Fuck me.

It felt good.

Running hasn’t felt that good in ages. Probably since COVID shut the world down.

Bipolar is a random bitch… some days I’m on top of the world and some days, the Ick is so bad, I want to dig a hole and hide.

Not going to lie, self-care hasn’t been high on my priority list. Surviving has been. Which includes getting the disaster that is the accounting department under control. (It’s been a year-long process…)

My new AR person is finding five figure mistakes - invoices there weren’t collected in a timely fashion. We still haven’t collected all the receivables from Hurricane Laura. That was 9 months ago. Most of that is the fault of the insurance company we worked for, but still. Then there’s the two guys who owed $20K+ - she never followed up on either, even though all the insurance proceeds went to the homeowner. Her replacement hunted one of them down - turns out the homeowner opened a claim, but the job contact was the tenant. We went after both of them until they finally paid us in full. In MAY.

Then, there’s still the small matter that I can’t get the books cleaned up. Every time I try, I seem to fail. Still haven’t closed January 2021.

Or the fact that I’m trying to squeeze HR and IT into already overflowing days.

I’m on my second AP person in a month and so far I think it’s love.

Better than the first one, at least.

So, yeah. I’m back to running. Back to training for Dopey, even though runDisney has been radio silent regarding the future. I’m not even sure I want to run Dopey any more, but I think that’s the depression talking.

I’ve signed up for ALL the Boston races since they’re offering all of them as virtual. No time requirements. I’ve already run the 5K. The 10K is at the end of this month, the half is in mid-September, and the marathon is in October.

This means that I will have my first marathon under my belt in 5 months. FIVE MONTHS.

That also means that I could upgrade my entry into the Palm Beach Marathon to the Marathon. It also means that I might run Miami, too.

I don’t know.

I have motivation again.

SERIOUS motivation.

OH! I almost forgot! We were watching some documentary on BBCAmerica and there is a fucking festival for people who like to watch cat videos on the internet.

Let that sink in for a moment.

The talking head said that people who watch cat videos find their anxiety lessening, they seem to be less depressed…

I HAVE FOUND THE PERFECT CURE FOR MY DEPRESSION AND IT IS NOT MEDS.

IT IS FUCKING CAT VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE.

My shrinky-dink is going to fucking love that. Especially since I can’t take anti-depressants.

It might also explain my desire to own a cat again.

Of course, we can’t because the dog hates them.

He just turned ten and knowing him, he has another full decade or two before he leaves us. So, there might not be a cat in our house for a long time.

But that’s OK. I have YouTube to get me though the dark days.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

The Battle Fish is improbable, yellow, prone to winning, and definitely the oddest thing in the universe. It feeds on the miles logged by other teams and transforms that energy into miles for Don’t Panic. It absorbs all unconscious mental frequencies from each member of the team. It then excretes into the minds of every runner a telepathic matrix formed by combining the conscious thought frequencies with an insatiable desire to win. The practical upshot of all of this is that if you stick a battle fish into your Racery team you can win Battle of the Fandoms. The miles you log are fed into the Racery application and designate the Don’t Panic team as the Season Two, Episode Three victors.  Possible side effects may include extreme giddiness, a desire to compete in all Racery events, the overwhelming need to translate English hashtags into German, fatigue, and some blisters.

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File Under Grain

March 05, 2021 :: 7:57 PM

Dylan O’Brien is totally on my list. You know, THE LIST.

On Monday, I stumbled across some very good fan fic.

You know: Poetry. Angels sing. God is in the heavens and all is right in the world.

When I find something that makes me want to NEVER! WRITE! AGAIN! I treasure that bitch.

And then, when I finish it, I obsess over whatever my current WIP is.

I’m on draft 4 of my shitty Teen Wolf fic, draft 3 of my Yuri!!! On Ice fic, draft 6 of my Harry Potter Eighth Year fic (now with multiple POVs! WOOO!),  and I’m stuck on the 2nd 3rd 4th fuck it, I lost count draft of my Harry Potter soulmates fic.

It’s probably an understatement that I’m obsessing over what fic to obsess over…

But. FUCK.

For as smart as I am, for as many words as I’ve written over my lifetime, for the voices I’ve cultivated both for ‘serious’ writing and ‘internet’ writing, I still suffer from Imposter Syndrome.

My writing has won fucking awards. It’s popular on AO3. It’s made grown men cry. It answered that age old question, How Do You Tell Someone You Don’t Love Them Any More? It’s opened wounds. It’s healed them.

It’s alive and amazing and wonderful and it’s something I created. By myself. For myself.

But. FUCK.

That little lemony piece of goodness I finished snacking on - why was it so fucking short - was just an amazing piece.

One day, I’ll be able to write mindblowing tales of tentacle porn between ghosts, blow up T-Rexes, and walruses who are calculating the square root of cheese while doing lines of coke and having sex with chickens…

No.

Wait.

That wasn’t the story I just read.

That was the fucked up dream I had when I added a doxy to my nighttime ‘fuck insomnia’ cocktail.

Kinda made me never want to sleep again.

Seriously.

*sigh*

 

- - - - - - - - - -

One of my fanfic groups asked if you were any AO3 tag which one(s) would you be?

I chewed on that question for days but the winner is:  DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Honorable mention went to no beta we die like men, but I’m totally a dead dove.

The deadest of doves.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Day whatever of Quarantine is under my belt (we both tested fucking positive!) and I am miserable.

Thankfully, that little habit I developed of working over the weekend has served me well. My home office is set up and (mostly) organized and I’ve been working without missing a beat.

In other news, we’re not firing my staff accountant… she quit.

Small little issue with her replacement, but I’m hoping it won’t blow up into something larger. I’m all for second chances and this seems like it might be worth the risk.

 

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I need some music, I need some sleep

December 26, 2020 :: 11:38 PM

Spending Christmas with Matt

I’ve taken over the HR duties at work, and there was a conversation I can’t let go of:

We had a client sleep with several of our subcontractors. Apparently, there was a move on our Project Manager.

Question: if he had slept with her and something had happened, would he be eligible for workers comp?

Heart attack, sprained muscle, STD… anything is fair game.

If they were at her house (“job site”), would it count as being on the job? Even if it was after hours?

Sometimes, I think we should adjust my meds. My head is going to the weirdest places lately.

-  -  -  -  -

We decided to paint my office this month and the husband went after it with a vengeance.

I ended up going with a soft grey - the same grey from the reading nook - with the same roman blinds, but no curtains.

That room used to be so dark that I used fairy lights and desk lamps(s) to try and brighten it up. I replaced the ugly sconces. The gold nipple lamp in the entry got replaced with a flush mount LED that’s brighter than the fucking sun. I also added a new ceiling fan with a light. Also LED. Also bright as fuck.

On one of the walls, there was a floor to ceiling mirror. One of the very first things we did when we moved in was had it removed. I left up the frame and we painted the inside of it with a bright white. (If removing the frame wasn’t going to necessitate replacing all the drywall, I’d have taken it down. That adhesive is nasty.)

The reading nook and the office are one big room, half assed divided by an arch and I think they will compliment each other beautifully. The reading nook is dark and cosy, with a bright red wall dominating. The office is bright and airy, with a large white area. They’re divided by a white and red IKEA shelving unit and I’m SO HAPPY with the way it all came together.

-  -  -  -  -

After quitting running (temporarily) due to depression, I signed up for Fandom Running Club’s year long event.

I think I have ONE real live race in 2021 so far… and I’m not sure I’ll be signing up for others.

Disney went virtual for Marathon Weekend and Rival Run and I’m not paying Disney dollars for a medal. That completely broke me. SHATTERED me.

So I’ve been licking my wounds and using a ridiculous backlog of work from the day job to distract myself.

But.

I miss running. Even if I only run on a treadmill and get bored after the first five minutes, I miss it.

I never finished my 2020 medal rerun, so I’m scrapping it. It doesn’t make sense to beat myself up for two shitty Racery events and not finishing all my medals. Let’s be honest, I’ve been in such a shit place that it takes EFFORT to get out of bed every morning, so… if that’s all I have spoons for, that’s all I have spoons for. I’m not going to sweat it.

I’ll be rerunning them all this year. Same rules apply: have to run entire medal distance in one go, intentional miles only, and the challenge medals are the same distance as all the year’s races. (The 2018 PHRC Phoenix Challenge only required that you ran all the races.)

-  -  -  -  -

I am not doing well.

That’s not a cry for attention. It’s a fact.

I’m exhausted.

I’m homesick.

I’m lonely.

It’s that last one that kills me… I’m not a people person by any means, but I miss being able to go out.

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The truth is in ya face when ya hear the MAPPA canon go BOOM

July 12, 2020 :: 10:45 AM

I can’t with this fucking show and I’m really not a huge Victuuri fan

So… that training I signed up for? It’s actually kind of working. At least, I feel like I’m pushing myself harder. Part of it is HAVING to do the runs and part of it is me trying to “show off” to the trainer. Totally the best money I’ve spent on running (excluding the treadmill, of course).

Speaking of, it hasn’t fucking shipped yet! I originally bought the cheaper one, but it wasn’t due to be back in stock until July 15th. They suckered me into an upgrade (basically, I saved $500 off the one I actually wanted) with the promise that it was in stock. I know I should be more patient, but the CRC Road Trip starts this week and I was really, really, really hoping I could break it in over the 10 days.

To ease my disappointment, I bought new HOKAs to break in. This time, I was smart enough to link them to my Garmin so that I could track the milage better. They feel just as good as the ones that have the 1,000 miles on them.

Today is an 8 mile long run, which I think is also my longest Racery run. Next weekend is a 9 mile long run. I’m starting to get nervous about the mileage, and then I remember… my dumb ass signed up to run a fucking MARATHON. And a 5K. And a 10K. And a half marathon. CONSECUTIVELY.

Jesus jumping Christ on a motherfucking pogo stick, I am an idiot.

Seriously.

Who decided that doing the Dopey Challenge was a good idea?

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

- - - - -

In other news, living at the office has become a thing.

I’ve been working some Saturdays and I still don’t feel like I’m making progress.

I mean, I know I am, but…

The financial statements actually are starting to report real, useful, data.

We’re finalizing our purchasing / AP procedure because it is a shit show.

We’ve had a bunch of turnover, including a girl who barely lasted an entire day.

People are on 30 and 60 day notices and my 90 day trial period is ending in about a week.

Our best admin employee is a 16 year old high school drop out, who is working part time. Of course, he’s working there because his dad got him hired, but he is so much more productive than the kid he replaced. Original kid had a degree in engineering, but had no interest in doing it… which makes me wonder why he ever bothered to piss away all that money on college if he didn’t want to work in that field. I mean, I have two Bachelors and the last thing I want to do is barely interesting admin work.

- - - - -

Picking up Polish in earnest as of today.

Rewatched Hamilton last night. I picked up so many new details. (Also, it was the anniversary of the Burr/Hamilton duel so it felt like the proper thing to do.)

Speaking of Hamilton, one of the girls in Hamilclaws doesn’t like the movie because it doesn’t flow like the soundtrack. Uh, it’s two very different things. I love the soundtrack, don’t get me wrong, but I do like the musical just as much. I think it’s the emotion… you don’t really get that in a polished recording. Some of the expressions… the additional scene… the fucking emotion Pippa is capable of. I think the reason I didn’t like it live the first time I saw it was that I wasn’t close enough to the stage and - possibly - the touring cast might not have been as good. Our King George was SO MUCH BETTER than Groffsauce, but I can’t remember the other actors, so that says a lot.

Working on becoming a notary today. Have to take a three hour course online so that will be the highlight of my day.

Being a grown up is boring.

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