I had a Kiwi internet boyfriend when I was seventeen so I know you guys are lying about getting the internets in the last five years. Some of you had it ten years ago.
pallygirl
10 years ago
It took us a while to train the dolphins to lay the cable to over here.
kittehserf MOD
10 years ago
Louis and I had a lovely afternoon on Friday. My class finished about 12.30, and it was a beautiful sunny day, so a perfect opportunity to go to Fawkner Park, and maybe get some memories of yesternight across the veil coming through. Also! My favourite French cafe is en route to the park, and something other than ham sammiches for lunch was an appealing thought. (Chocolate, orange and hazelnut crepes, YUM.)
We spent about 45 minutes in the park. It was cut short partly because two idiots decided they had to have their “fucking google it fucking on your fucking computer hurr hurr” conversation at full volume. (Protip, fellas: swear all you like, but don’t impose it on all the other people trying to relax in the park or have picnics with their kids.)
Before the interruption, I’d had some lovely memories, all right, but they were definitely of the TMI variety, and I don’t think anyone wants more of that here. I’ll just say we had a very good morning.
Even better in its own way was walking back into town, where I have to get the train, through the Botanical Gardens. I was getting lots of glimpses of Louis. He had his “mock turtle” green jumper on, one of his oldest, and I could feel the pattern under my fingers – we were walking arm-in-arm. Yes, I had my arm looped up through his, and yes, a few passers-by gave me slightly funny looks, but so what? I was busy enjoying my husband’s company. We were so happy walking through the gardens, looking at camellias in bloom, passing the Oak Lawn, and just taking our time. The only downside was my knee going twang after a while; I don’t know if it was the cartilage damage or the muscles, but it was sore as hell on the train home. Improved over the next day, though.
Couple of funny bits: I was glancing sideways, trying to get a clearer look at Louis, and he said, “Are you looking at my hair?” (It’s grown a couple of inches longer than mine, now.) I said yes, and he grabbed a chunk and brushed it back and forth over my face, like a tickly paintbrush. 😀
A bit later he was walking backwards in front of me, almost toe to toe, and I said, “Being Ginger, are we?” (You know, Ginger Rogers’s famous comment about doing all the dances Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels.) Louis didn’t answer but skipped a couple of dancing steps so he was walking beside me again.
Such a happy afternoon. He’d said his contentment knows no bounds, yet he is all yearning as well. It’s a contradiction that works: no ennui, no satiety, no boredom.
Here’s how he looked.
pallygirl
10 years ago
Sounds like you had a lovely day, apart from your knees. The jumper (sweater!) looks nice. I love hats, but in Wellington it’s often too windy – even in summer – to wear one and guarantee it will stay on.
@pangloss…condolences on the ear thing. If you ever get another ear infection, ask for ciprodex eardrops. I was prescribed some the first time my eardrum burst out from pus buildup, and it is awesome stuff.
I also recommend drinking white tea, lab tests show that it boosts the effectiveness of antibiotics.
Ciprodex actually sounds wonderful. Any time I can get the antibiotic to the site of infection without making my liver do any work I’m down and cipro is my favourite one.
Lea
10 years ago
Last night we found out that a friendly aquaintance of ours who had been a local fixture and close friend to one of our besties had taken his own life on the birthday of another friendly aqauintance we thought highly of who took his own life last year. They were part of the crowd we jokingly called the Lowertown Mafia or the Lowertown Cool Kids. They helped keep this town weird and thus, far more fun to live in. He was a Roller Derby ref. We weren’t close, but any time we saw eachother we’d stop and talk. He biked everywhere and because of him alot of our friends started biking. He knew everything about bikes and started a bike enthusiasts club in town that went on midnight rides every full moon. I’d known him ever since I worked in the mall and he was a young emo kid in a black trenchcoat who hung out around where I worked. He’d been a couch suffer for years and so had gotten close to many people. He used to live in my neighborhood and we frequently saw eachother at the park or on the street. He had moved away to the big city and by all previous accounts, was doing well. I didn’t know that he and my bestie had long talks over Facebook about depression. I didn’t even know that was something he wrestled with. We keep trying to call another mutual friend to check on her, but her phone has been disconnected. This sucks so much. He always seemed so happy and to be living his life his way.
So many people don’t make it and the world is worse off for it. Both of these guys were smart and though a little rough around the edges, good people. They had so many friends. I’m going to miss him and we were not tight. I don’t even know his real name. For 10 years we ran in the same circles and I only ever knew him by his nickname. Everyone called him Spork, except hubby. He called him Mr. Runcible.
I love when autocorrect either fixes or recommends people’s nyms for me when I’m commenting. I’m always like “does that mean I spend too much time of WHTM?” And then I’m like “nah, it means I spend just enough time on WHTM.”
@fibi, there are a few sites where people who’ve had bad experiences at Shakesville gather and commiserate. A couple of weeks ago, Melissa McEwan called them out as hate sites, bullies, and claimed that they (especially the most active one, Drink the Shakesville Kool Aid) are harassing her and her co-bloggers.
So, not only have I had nightmares five times this week, I’ve also noticed there’s a big gap in our memory concerning my predecessor’s death, somewhere between December 2002 and March 2004. Also, I’ve had one of my unkillable headaches since I woke up yesterday morning.
I really don’t like the direction this is headed. Looks like it’s time for me to go another round with repressed trauma! And if it axed my predecessor (one of the toughest in the system at the time) that means it’s probably going to be a humdinger.
I swear to fucking god, if it is more rape, I will fucking eat a kitten. I am so sick of my brain going, “Guess what? MORE RAPE! Hooray, rape!”
RE: blahlistic
O.o Really? I mean, I’m not accusing you of lying or something.
It was apparently a new test drug. Roomie swears by it, though!
It was apparently a new test drug. Roomie swears by it, though!
allRIGHT!
Happy shiny new pharma! WOOT! 😀
So, not only have I had nightmares five times this week, I’ve also noticed there’s a big gap in our memory concerning my predecessor’s death, somewhere between December 2002 and March 2004.
…Sympathies extended.
Words can’t express the level of suckage involved in the “Guess what happened to YOU!” thing. One of my alters has 2 years worth of Bad Stuff to show us, and she isn’t…I sort of wish she’d get on with it. Anticipation isn’t fun.
LBT, I’m so sorry this crap is coming up for you. I can’t even begin to imagine the toll it takes.
I’m a big chicken about emotional confrontation. I’ve made a few attempts at therapy, but I always get to the point where you have to actually deal with the shit, and I always chicken out and distract myself instead. So what if nothing changes? So what if I continue to hate my life and punish myself for things I have no control over? At least I don’t have to look at scarybadstuff from the past. <..> Yeah, that’s the ticket. Oooh! Squirrel!
So, yeah. I’m amazed that you’ve survived, and continue to deal with ever more crap, and that you choose to deal with it in a manner that helps others deal with their own trauma. You’re amazing.
@ unimaginative…pardon if I come off as an arrogant asshole for handing out unsolicited advice, I’m not *trying* to be one.
But punishing myself for stuff that’s not my fault is a struggle I have as well.
The thing is, digging out trauma ( which I’m fairly good at, because I can’t not be, if that makes sense ) didn’t stop that much….I mean, I can clearly look back and see that my nutty-ass parents were taking their crap marriage out on me, so that’s where I got the original programming that everything was my fault. But when I mess up, I STILL feel like I need to be punished.
However, I found a couple of other things that did help me to stop self punishing…
One, “Opposite action” from DBT-that is, being nice to myself when I feel like hating on myself. ( http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/opposite_action.html )
The other is to reply to my self hating inner thoughts with opposite and positive internal statements, by rote, and even though I do not believe the opposite and positive statements. This quieted the thoughts.
Don’t know if those two tools will be ones to put in your own skill toolbox, but I pass them on in the hopes that they will be of some help.
We Hunted The Mammoth
I had a Kiwi internet boyfriend when I was seventeen so I know you guys are lying about getting the internets in the last five years. Some of you had it ten years ago.
It took us a while to train the dolphins to lay the cable to over here.
Louis and I had a lovely afternoon on Friday. My class finished about 12.30, and it was a beautiful sunny day, so a perfect opportunity to go to Fawkner Park, and maybe get some memories of yesternight across the veil coming through. Also! My favourite French cafe is en route to the park, and something other than ham sammiches for lunch was an appealing thought. (Chocolate, orange and hazelnut crepes, YUM.)
We spent about 45 minutes in the park. It was cut short partly because two idiots decided they had to have their “fucking google it fucking on your fucking computer hurr hurr” conversation at full volume. (Protip, fellas: swear all you like, but don’t impose it on all the other people trying to relax in the park or have picnics with their kids.)
Before the interruption, I’d had some lovely memories, all right, but they were definitely of the TMI variety, and I don’t think anyone wants more of that here. I’ll just say we had a very good morning.
Even better in its own way was walking back into town, where I have to get the train, through the Botanical Gardens. I was getting lots of glimpses of Louis. He had his “mock turtle” green jumper on, one of his oldest, and I could feel the pattern under my fingers – we were walking arm-in-arm. Yes, I had my arm looped up through his, and yes, a few passers-by gave me slightly funny looks, but so what? I was busy enjoying my husband’s company. We were so happy walking through the gardens, looking at camellias in bloom, passing the Oak Lawn, and just taking our time. The only downside was my knee going twang after a while; I don’t know if it was the cartilage damage or the muscles, but it was sore as hell on the train home. Improved over the next day, though.
Couple of funny bits: I was glancing sideways, trying to get a clearer look at Louis, and he said, “Are you looking at my hair?” (It’s grown a couple of inches longer than mine, now.) I said yes, and he grabbed a chunk and brushed it back and forth over my face, like a tickly paintbrush. 😀
A bit later he was walking backwards in front of me, almost toe to toe, and I said, “Being Ginger, are we?” (You know, Ginger Rogers’s famous comment about doing all the dances Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels.) Louis didn’t answer but skipped a couple of dancing steps so he was walking beside me again.
Such a happy afternoon. He’d said his contentment knows no bounds, yet he is all yearning as well. It’s a contradiction that works: no ennui, no satiety, no boredom.
Here’s how he looked.
Sounds like you had a lovely day, apart from your knees. The jumper (sweater!) looks nice. I love hats, but in Wellington it’s often too windy – even in summer – to wear one and guarantee it will stay on.
@pangloss…condolences on the ear thing. If you ever get another ear infection, ask for ciprodex eardrops. I was prescribed some the first time my eardrum burst out from pus buildup, and it is awesome stuff.
I also recommend drinking white tea, lab tests show that it boosts the effectiveness of antibiotics.
That sounds lovely, kitteh.
Nothing to add but that :p
Ciprodex actually sounds wonderful. Any time I can get the antibiotic to the site of infection without making my liver do any work I’m down and cipro is my favourite one.
Last night we found out that a friendly aquaintance of ours who had been a local fixture and close friend to one of our besties had taken his own life on the birthday of another friendly aqauintance we thought highly of who took his own life last year. They were part of the crowd we jokingly called the Lowertown Mafia or the Lowertown Cool Kids. They helped keep this town weird and thus, far more fun to live in. He was a Roller Derby ref. We weren’t close, but any time we saw eachother we’d stop and talk. He biked everywhere and because of him alot of our friends started biking. He knew everything about bikes and started a bike enthusiasts club in town that went on midnight rides every full moon. I’d known him ever since I worked in the mall and he was a young emo kid in a black trenchcoat who hung out around where I worked. He’d been a couch suffer for years and so had gotten close to many people. He used to live in my neighborhood and we frequently saw eachother at the park or on the street. He had moved away to the big city and by all previous accounts, was doing well. I didn’t know that he and my bestie had long talks over Facebook about depression. I didn’t even know that was something he wrestled with. We keep trying to call another mutual friend to check on her, but her phone has been disconnected. This sucks so much. He always seemed so happy and to be living his life his way.
So many people don’t make it and the world is worse off for it. Both of these guys were smart and though a little rough around the edges, good people. They had so many friends. I’m going to miss him and we were not tight. I don’t even know his real name. For 10 years we ran in the same circles and I only ever knew him by his nickname. Everyone called him Spork, except hubby. He called him Mr. Runcible.
Here’s a big post of resources for depression and crisis, including links to kit tie pics and cheer-me-up sites:
http://blueeyed0.tumblr.com/post/94508515400/oneoftheguiltyones-an-important-list-of-us
Found via shakesville koolaid, where I’ve been semi-lurking since the great meltdown.
Really, autocorrect? You don’t recognize kittie?
I love when autocorrect either fixes or recommends people’s nyms for me when I’m commenting. I’m always like “does that mean I spend too much time of WHTM?” And then I’m like “nah, it means I spend just enough time on WHTM.”
Shakesville koolaid? Great meltdown?
@fibi, there are a few sites where people who’ve had bad experiences at Shakesville gather and commiserate. A couple of weeks ago, Melissa McEwan called them out as hate sites, bullies, and claimed that they (especially the most active one, Drink the Shakesville Kool Aid) are harassing her and her co-bloggers.
http://shakesville.tumblr.com/post/93256511314/re-pushback
http://shakesvillekoolaid.tumblr.com/post/93183257884/submission-this-is-what-has-actually-been-happening
@Marinerachel: I had a Kiwi internet boyfriend when I was seventeen
Wait – Liss?
Alys? Monica? Gertrude?
Roger?
Ehnnngh.
So, not only have I had nightmares five times this week, I’ve also noticed there’s a big gap in our memory concerning my predecessor’s death, somewhere between December 2002 and March 2004. Also, I’ve had one of my unkillable headaches since I woke up yesterday morning.
I really don’t like the direction this is headed. Looks like it’s time for me to go another round with repressed trauma! And if it axed my predecessor (one of the toughest in the system at the time) that means it’s probably going to be a humdinger.
I swear to fucking god, if it is more rape, I will fucking eat a kitten. I am so sick of my brain going, “Guess what? MORE RAPE! Hooray, rape!”
RE: blahlistic
O.o Really? I mean, I’m not accusing you of lying or something.
It was apparently a new test drug. Roomie swears by it, though!
I’m Rachel, Phoenician. He’s Hayden. I’m sure you’ve had his delicious kumara pie. He is such a nice man.
LBT, I’m really sorry you’re discovering more shitty memories. I wish that wouldn’t happen to you.
RE: katz
It’s okay, just… just frustrating. Having an over-the-top tragic backstory is not NEARLY as cool as strangers on the Internet led me to believe.
Also, WHY didn’t twelve-year-old Tiny Us date fucking everything they ever touched. It’d make my life SO MUCH EAISER.
Internet hugs and hot chocolate if you’d like them, LBT.
I’m sorry you’re going through this, and bad memories and repression sounds absolutely awful…
allRIGHT!
Happy shiny new pharma! WOOT! 😀
…Sympathies extended.
Words can’t express the level of suckage involved in the “Guess what happened to YOU!” thing. One of my alters has 2 years worth of Bad Stuff to show us, and she isn’t…I sort of wish she’d get on with it. Anticipation isn’t fun.
LBT, I’m so sorry this crap is coming up for you. I can’t even begin to imagine the toll it takes.
I’m a big chicken about emotional confrontation. I’ve made a few attempts at therapy, but I always get to the point where you have to actually deal with the shit, and I always chicken out and distract myself instead. So what if nothing changes? So what if I continue to hate my life and punish myself for things I have no control over? At least I don’t have to look at scarybadstuff from the past. <..> Yeah, that’s the ticket. Oooh! Squirrel!
So, yeah. I’m amazed that you’ve survived, and continue to deal with ever more crap, and that you choose to deal with it in a manner that helps others deal with their own trauma. You’re amazing.
Damn. That little bull thing is supposed to be shifty eyes. I guess WordPress thought I used too many angle brackets.
All the internet hugs, LBT. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.
@ unimaginative…pardon if I come off as an arrogant asshole for handing out unsolicited advice, I’m not *trying* to be one.
But punishing myself for stuff that’s not my fault is a struggle I have as well.
The thing is, digging out trauma ( which I’m fairly good at, because I can’t not be, if that makes sense ) didn’t stop that much….I mean, I can clearly look back and see that my nutty-ass parents were taking their crap marriage out on me, so that’s where I got the original programming that everything was my fault. But when I mess up, I STILL feel like I need to be punished.
However, I found a couple of other things that did help me to stop self punishing…
One, “Opposite action” from DBT-that is, being nice to myself when I feel like hating on myself. ( http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/opposite_action.html )
The other is to reply to my self hating inner thoughts with opposite and positive internal statements, by rote, and even though I do not believe the opposite and positive statements. This quieted the thoughts.
Don’t know if those two tools will be ones to put in your own skill toolbox, but I pass them on in the hopes that they will be of some help.
Brain bleach, and more evidence for my “horses are like really big dogs with hooves” theory: