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Blood Oil! Deep Shrooms! Teleporting B#####! NOOOO PRAWN MCSHRIMPFACE NOOOO!

Game is getting deep.

Mental Health (...?) 

{earlier today}

"I accept that for some disorders of personality there really aren't any quick fixes, just therapy and minfulness and acceptance."
"Actually, there's a drug."
"SET ME UP, DOC."

Having exhausted the SSRIs, SSNRIs and the standard atypicals*, now we're starting a trial of some rather specific anticonvulsives. Gosh but they have some fascinating off-label uses.

(*'Exhausted' implies I'm not still on a few. They do what they do, but not quite well enough.)

Why do kangaroos have to have such complicated faces to anthropomorphize? Integrating the snootbooper with the honker and the muzzle-smoochers is proving complex.

Ah well. It'll be worth the effort.

Subtweets, fandom sexpectations. 

I've subtweeted, sometimes a lot, when I was hurting. I redirect that impulse as much as possible, now. Nobody needs that.

I also used to enjoy textual intimacies with some close friends. I thought the interest was reciprocal, at the time.

I was younger, and clumsy, and very frequently very, very mistaken about what my friends actually wanted of me. I worry about boundaries a lot, now.

I guess this is my 'I've fucked up but I'm trying to do better." post.

Work (-) 

So, don't expect I'll be around much anymore, save weekend and occasional evenings.

Tired of this game.

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Work (-) 

Still employed. Seems that my potential raise is directly tied to [function x], which I do not actually in any capacity *do*. I only benefit if my coworkers get their shit together. (Which is unlikely.)

Also, the banhammer has come down on phones. I have to leave mine locked in a locker, rather than on my person. Given I don't have access to a work-sanctioned web browser or a company email address or work digital camera, that's going to make parts of my life needlessly complicated.

"They settled on a standard spec,
696 by name.
Now everything is 'standardised'
and nothing works the same."
- Frank Hayes, "S-100 Bus"

retrotechnology.com/herbs_stuf

youtu.be/ow78cUDdTOg

Spent the morning unconscious, noon-afternoon being screened for eldercare eligability with TheMate for (and with) the Mother of TheMate (aka MoTM). Now rewarding ourselves with tea (well, lunch). Seem to have lost part of a molar somewhere... Ah well. That tooth's mostly metal now anyhow, another dentin won't hurt it much.

So, what am I up to? Well. At the 'hurry-up-and-wait' point of several projects.

Thank you, friends. I'll get through. Just a momentary plunge.

Crushing sadness today.

It'll pass. But for the moment, it's overwhelming.

*is now stuck at work figuring out the evolution of 'Sister Sqveak: Safety Begins with Roo!' from block-print Soviet-style worker-paradise workplace trauma prevention through Americanization in WWII, becoming nosecone art and WACaRoo posters, safety comics and work training animatics through the 50s, inevitable rebranding fresh and funky in the 80s, and now charmingly retro style. Same 'roo, clad in rubber safety gear ears to tail because they KNOW what can happen if Roo Aren't Careful!*

I admit, when I first got the 3d printer running, I downloaded a few things to make. Who doesn't? A car, some indefinite articles. But once I realized I could craft my own artisanal small-batch pronouns, well. I was free of Big Gender. They aren't 'counterfeits' - they're *art*.

Genies don't grow more powerful to fit their container. Their growth halts somewhere near the limits of the container's quality. And quality tends to match size.

For decades the genies were stymied. The ages-old hermit-crab-like swapping to larger homes halted as larger bottles simply weren't made.

Then one very lucky, mid-power genie realized containerized cargo boxes were capacious and durable and there were millions of units sitting ready to be occupied.

It was an exciting time.

It would appear my belief that my microflu was passing absent GI tract symptomatology was woefully both incorrect and shortlived.

In related news, oh ghod no please not again

Note to self: When I find myself writing replies that are thousands of characters beyond the post limit, it is time to reconsider what I'm trying to accomplish.

New Headcanon: Kerr Avon survived the last episode of Blake's Seven, fled the galaxy, became wanted intergalactically for his mercenary work, and eventually became Gelt in Battle for the Stars.

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