Charlotte Finn @SkunkyLass@awoo.space

♫♪ In the end ♫♪
♪♫ I realize ♪♫
♫♪ You were dressed like me ♪♫
♫♪ Trying to make history ♫♪

I swear, the worst part of whatever I got is the random fatigue spells, because I'll feel 100% one minute and yearn for a nap the next.

Better today, anyways.

🖼

I am beginning to wonder if the rapid tests are weighed towards false negatives over false positives, given that the latter hurts the """economy"""

But, that's five down, all negative. Whatever I got, it's most likely not that (thank God.)

Still feel run down, sadly, but I feel a bit better? One moment of fatigue that lasted half an hour aside.

Did

Did the Dems win?

It's a small thing, and this past two weeks it wouldn't even make the top ten. but I left my earbud and the earbud case at a bus stop tonight and I thought I'd scream. But I'm not.

I think I'm so overwhelmed that it just rates an "it figures."

We have successfully created the Matrix from the classic science fiction movie Don't Create The Matrix https://futurism.com/oculus-founder-vr-headset-kills

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.