Charlotte Finn @SkunkyLass@awoo.space

Probably shouldn't name my custom Gallic religion in Civ 6 "Gauls Gone Wild," huh

Hey, I've tried to follow two people on mastodon.lol and I've gotten errors but only from this instance. Who do I talk to?

A friend of mine who's in his very early thirties talks, quite frequently, about how he'd like to end his life at forty. About how he thinks that existence is torture and that bringing someone into existence is a violation of their consent.

I think about how I'd have never discovered so many important things about myself if I'd only lived to forty. I'd never have met some of my best friends. I'd never have gotten into my favorite hobby. I'd never have seen one of my favorite movies. I'd never have transitioned and found out how much genuine joy there is in it.

But I cannot convince him. He's dead set on it. He flies into a rage when he sees pregnant people.

I'm glad to step up when someone is hurting. As the song lyric goes, love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night.

I just wish I was actually any good at it.

A while back, James Leask, on his then-podcast, said that he valued David Brothers being the kind of comics critic that didn't do much work, but meant all the work he did. That he didn't release a new article constantly, but when he did, people said "hey, David Brothers wrote something today." That his work was something that was infrequent, but always talked about. He spoke when he had something to say.

And thinking about it, that's what I aspire to. Can't make a living that way, but in terms of critical expression, I feel that I'm at my best when I have a lot to say about a weighty tome of work.

Anyways: I wrote about Kate Beaton's graphic memoir, DUCKS, today. https://shelfdust.com/2022/10/10/lost-in-away-notes-on-kate-beatons-ducks-two-years-in-the-oil-sands/

I dreamt that someone I knew had lost the battle with depression, and that it had happened right in front of me despite me pleading at the top of my lungs for them not to do it. And I remember getting so incredibly angry because other people I knew made fun of them after they were gone. Like, "here comes the old autistic meltdowns I didn't know how to handle" angry, when I saw something that felt deeply, deeply unjust and couldn't understand it.

And when I woke up the first thing I did was check my phone to make sure it hadn't happened, because all of it - the suicide, and the post-suicide mockery - felt so real. Like it could have happened.

I believed that I'd wake up to a bunch of people I know mocking someone else I know for committing suicide.

I hate what social media does to us, sometimes. Making us all a little less humane.

I'll probably get it. I'm just tired of feeling so dammed self-conscious about something that brings me genuine joy, because people will go pantshit over it. Even if I'd never do the same to them if they posted a glamor selfie.

I know, I know, if they freak out they aren't my friends. Just that I won't know who isn't a friend until they do something, and that makes it harder.

Plus, these days if a friendship goes bust, there's the possibility of them dumping out their digital purse and letting everyone know about shit you told them in confidence. Always a fun consideration, especially if you still believe people are entitled to a reasonable expectation of privacy. (Old fashioned, I know.)

I'm sweating a hole through my shirt trying to work up the courage for a YCH that would put me in an evening dress and meanwhile John Oliver is posting his otter fursona with no shirt and a big bulge in his cutoffs.

It sucks, sometimes, to have a friend group with personality artifacts left over from the SA forums. I can't tell myself "no one will mind," because I know very much that people will mind.

♫♪ I elbowed myself in the tit today ♪♫ Boy that was a big surprise ♪♫

Finally doing better after a difficult few days. Seeing that the person who tried to hurt themselves is doing better helps a lot.

Three times this week I have had to talk someone out of hurting themselves or worse, and yesterday someone decided to livestream their attempt. They're okay now, thank God.

I'm feeling the weight right now. I consider it my duty to help people if I see them talking about hurting themselves because what else am I supposed to do, keep on scrolling? So I help when I can. I figure that I'll let myself feel the weight of it later, and if I make a difference to them that means that for them, there will be a "later."

But God, this time it is hard. It is hard. I still see the screen and hear the voice when I close my eyes, and right now I feel like if you pushed me hard enough I'd fall over and shatter like fine china. I don't think I have it in me right now to do it one more time this week and I am just flat praying that no one else has a moment of crisis.

I'm not in danger of hurting myself, don't worry. I'll get over it. But right now, things are hard, and I really hope that three is the limit for the week.

There is this LIST of shit that I just didn't do for 15 months because I was bound and determined not to catch COVID.

All that stuff about how people found themselves and tried new things in the lockdown? Well, the inverse is true; a lot of us were ABOUT TO, and then the wildest fucking thing happened

I am not breathing completely easy - still masking up and avoiding crowds - but it is nice to think the thought "I could go to the game store tomorrow" and actually do it.

I have a reminder in Google Calendar to inquire about my second jab in four days, since back then I was operating on the assumption that it'd only be available now. I'm a month out from having gotten it.

God, the first few months of 2021 waiting for that thing were absolute sheer agony.

We back?

Cool!

Lately, I have decided to accept that my body doesn't want to do jack shit before 11:00 in the morning no matter how early I go to bed, and I have planned around it by doing a little extra work at night after everyone else is asleep.

It's probably not viable long-term but the alternative is a vastly shortened workday and an accumulating backlog I can't make a dent in. The past couple of nights, I've made a nice little dent in it, and I've also racked up a few extra hours that I can use for financial expenditures that are coming up soon.

And I'm oddly, kind of okay with the break in the routine; I felt this intense pressure to have one single block of a workday but I feel better about myself breaking up the workday like this.

Whatever works, I suppose! I continue to be extremely fortunate that I even have this privilege in the modern job landscape, and I endeavour to find a way that everyone can enjoy a work schedule that works for them.

YES!

I am now (two weeks from now) (conditionality) (probably should avoid super packed indoor environments for a couple months regardless) INVINCIBLE!!

Debating two things on a possible post-vaccination vacation.

1) Grabbing a train ticket and departing to tour Canada.

Pros: I've always wanted to do it.

Cons: not everywhere's lifted restrictions yet, not all my friends are immunized

2) Just doing the earthquake walk around town, seeing what's here, what's changed, what's gone, and seeing a movie every Goddamn day.

Pros: allowing myself to relax in a familiar environment.

Cons: just basically doing what I was doing before COVID.

I have managed to book my second shot, far earlier than I thought I would!

Come the end of June, I will be essentially immune.