I have one halfway valuable talent and it’s writing. It’s not the only thing I can do but my other talents are either valued even less or require even more investment or are just too exhausting for a Spoonie like me.
In theory it’s never been easier to get your writing in front of people. Getting paid for your writing is another matter entirely. I’ve been lucky so far, if by lucky you mean basically cursed, because I’m disabled enough that the government gives me money. That means that I’ve been able to write without needing to get paid immediately. I could look on my writing as an investment that would pay off eventually.
I’m now getting to the point where eventually needs to be soon. But I’m starting to feel like eventually is going to end up being never. With each passing day I have less and less hope that I’ll be able to get published via the traditional route. My only other option is self publishing badly and sending my precious story out to die with all the other half assed self pub books. I don’t have the skills or the money to do it properly.
Every time I think I’ve found a way to turn my skill into income it just evaporates as soon as I get close. Self publishing in’t the cake walk that some people would have you believe. Patreon have just said they don’t want people like me, if you don’t already have a huge following they’re not interested, Kickstarter is for people with plans, I’ve yet to find an even slightly ethical way to make money from any blog that I’d be able to write.
I spent more than half my life desperately wishing that I knew what to aim for. And now I know. And I’ve been working towards it steadily for 12 years and it feels like I’m no closer than I was at the start.
So I don’t know what to do. I’ll keep writing as long as I have a device to write on and I’ll keep blogging as long as I have a device and internet access. Maybe the problem is just that I’m not good enough yet. Maybe I’ll stumble into something interesting enough to say and everything will change. Probably not though.
It might be time to stop editing what I write. I write because I have to. I edit because I want to get paid. If I’m not getting paid now and there’s no hope of getting paid eventually then why am I editing?
This week I put on a kilogram. I stuck to the diet all week long. I was well under my limit most days. I still gained a kilo. FUCK MY LIFE.
I suspect that it might be down to fluid. My right leg is really swollen at the moment. Like having difficulty getting into leggings that fit just fine 10kg ago swollen. It feels like a fucking balloon and my right knee is being a whiny bitch about it. I’m used to it complaining when I stand or sit but now it’s complaining while I’m in bed. Bitch, I am literally horizontal what more do you want?
It’s so frustrating to spend so much time and effort on this damn diet and get so little back. I don’t know what to do. I don’t have a plan except to keep going. The only other thing I could do would be to cut back on the carbohydrates even more but I really don’t want to do that because it’s just so miserable.
Hopefully it won’t be too long before I get referred to someone who can do something about the fluid.
Yes. But not the way you think.
I’m aware that I’m taking a risk starting like this but so be it. If I want to speak to the people who need to hear this I have to start this way. Some of my readers are going to feel attacked but please bear with me.
Depression is one option on a multiple choice test. For some of us this test is an occasional annoyance. For others it gets delivered every goddam day. The test looks like this:
Pick one option only
- Substance Abuse
Everyone starts out ticking the Denial box. Nobody wants to be depressed. Depression sucks. So you tick that Denial box. And then you tick it the next day and you keep on ticking it. But it gets harder. The box goes grey and then black and eventually no matter how hard you press down on the paper your mark won’t show up.
For some people that’s enough to go straight to the Depression box but some people think that’s for quitters. So some people go to option two.
Choose your poison. There are so many ways to pretend you’re not depressed. Alcohol will cover it up and the next day when you feel like shit you’re not depressed you’re just hungover. Hair of the dog will sort you out. If you don’t like booze there are so many drugs out there. Some will take high enough so you can’t feel the depression. Some will take you down so low that you won’t care. And if you don’t trust drugs there’s always food. Suffocate those damn feelings under handfuls of sweet, sweet food.
But over time the Substance Abuse box keeps getting bigger. It gets easier to tick. Eventually it gets it’s own denial sub heading so that you can deny that the substance abuse is a problem. And then comes the day when you realise that the words ‘Substance Abuse’ are written on a label. They’re covering something up. And when you scrape or peel the label off you find that underneath it is the word Suicide. Because substance abuse is just suicide the long way round.
That Suicide box is always tempting. It’s practically talking to you. Telling you that if you tick it right just once you’ll never have to worry about the damn test ever again. Some days that box is huge.
But if you care about the people around you that option is out of the question. So you move to the bottom of the test and you tick the Depression box. The hardest one. The one that means admitting there’s a problem. The one where you seek help and take pills and talk about your damn feeling. The one where you have to practice self care instead of pretending that you don’t exist. The one where you have to cut the toxic people out of your life. You’ll know the toxic people because they’re the ones telling you that you’re selfish or weak for ‘choosing’ to be depressed.
Has anyone spotted the Zeppelins yet? I ask because it’s clear that the USA is experiencing a full on incursion from a Nazi timeline. That’s the only way I can explain actual Nazi’s marching in the streets with neither hoods nor masks and then being surprised when this doesn’t go well for them.
It’s almost possible to feel sorry for these travelers from another realm trapped in a world that doesn’t work the way they thought it did. They stumble around, expecting their violence to go unpunished, expecting to be lauded for their crimes, smearing their victims with insults that the world regards as nonsensical and when all else fails pretending not to be Nazis
Because let us not forget that these are Nazis. These are people who believe that some people aren’t people and that makes it totally ok to exterminate them. Even in their homeline they are arsholes without a single redeaming feature. They’re just used to getting away with it.
So what do we, the right thinking descendants of people who fought a war to put these arseholes back in their box, do about this?
We fight. We fight the very idea that it’s ok to be a Nazi. We enforce consequences. We remove the possibility of wearing a swastika all weekend and then pretending not to be a reprehensible piece of shit all week. When someone gets all uppity that no-one is condemning leftist violence let us pause briefly to point out all the times when people did condemn it before asking them if they have a problem condeming actual fucking Nazis. We show up to protest. We make it clear where the line is drawn and which side of it we are on.
Those of us who benefit from white privilege should weaponise that privilege. If someone has to tear down monuments then let it be those of us who will be charged with a misdemeanor not shot by some cop with a twitchy trigger finger. Let those of us who look like the imaginary Ayran master-race be the first to strike down the very idea of white supremacy.
One last thing before I let you go. While it is absolutely morally correct to punch a Nazi (but only if they really are a Nazi) it is illegal unless they attack you first. If you punch a Nazi you could be arrested, charged and convicted. So maybe don’t do it if you have people relying on you or if you can’t afford the conviction on your record.
More Zeppelin references
So the CBD oil that I’ve been talking about in previous posts here and here is definitely working.
My background levels of pain have greatly reduced and it’s now easier to deal with breakthrough pain. However my right knee has clearly decided to be a horrible bitch about things. It’s swollen and it’s grinding and it won’t reliably bend and it hurts whenever I do foolish things like stand up or sit down or roll over in bed.
And something else has decided to flare up. Something really painful. Something that I really need to see a doctor about but I was too late this morning to get an appointment and I have stuff to do tomorrow that can’t be moved and if I leave it till Friday to see the doctor then I will have reached my own personal defcon 10 of pain.
That’s not 10 out of 10 on the pain scale. That level of pain is just screaming until it stops. Defcon 10 is out of my mind with pain, distraction and frustration. It’s a result of having to just put up with a level and type and location of pain that no-one should have to put up with. Defcon 10 is dangerous because it makes me want to knife 40 people at random. Hopefully the CBD oil will help with this kind of pain.
If anyone is interested I will post links to the kind of vape pen, cartridges and oil I’m using.
I don’t have a problem with the Body Positivity movement as long as it’s your body we’re talking about. You look fabulous, by the way.
I just can’t be positive about my body because there’s nothing positive about it. My problem is not that I’m fat. Fat is not a problem. My problem is that my body is a worthless piece of toxic trash that has been torturing me almost from birth.
I hate my body. Everything I’ve achieved I have achieved in spite of it. All it does is slow me down. I can’t rely on it. It turns the food I eat into dysfunctional fat cells that lock the energy away. I can’t access that energy and the cells just build up on my legs looking fucking hideous, hurting and stopping my joints from working.
I’m trapped in this fucking cage. It doesn’t work. I can’t fix it. It’s made my life a living hell. There’s nothing I could ever have done to fix it. I’ve been struggling my whole life, blaming myself, thinking that I was a failure and the whole time it’s been beyond my control. I was doomed from the start.
If there was any justice in the world I’d be offered a do-over of some kind. But there isn’t so I’m just stuck here until this body stops working completely. I feel like my entire life has been wasted. Not just because this body sucks but because I’ve wasted so much time blaming myself for something that was outside my control and trying to fix something that was never going to work.
No more. Fuck this body. I’m done putting up with its bullshit.
Well I say that… but even as I type this it’s making a spirited attempt to get me to stop. My back is cramping up. The pain is all I can think about. My body is demanding that I stop typing and go back to bed or something. Realistically there isn’t much I can do about it.
I had a couple of ideas for today’s post. I had one in mind that was full advice for young creatives. I wanted to write something for my daughter who has trouble finishing things. But then some arsehole blew himself up inside an arena full of teenaged girls and suddenly that seems inappropriate.
I was flicking through Facebook and Twitter, not wanting to know more but unable to stop when I spied a comment from a right-wing journalist. I’m not going to link to the tweet or name the journalist because attention only encourages people like this. I will include the full text of the tweet though.
Why do we suspend politics when a terror attack happens? I want to know how our politicians plan to stop these attacks. Or don’t they know?
Oh dear lord. Where to begin?
Well for one thing they don’t know how to stop attacks like this because we don’t know what happened. There’s still an ongoing investigation. Maybe we should wait for the police and the security services to work out how it happened before we decide what to do about it?
Of course if you start by believing that Islam is inherently evil or brown people are less human than white people then I imagine you think you know what we should do. I’m sure that this particular journalist isn’t suggesting any of that. Plenty of other people were, though. I’ve heard a rumour that a certain other right-wing ‘journalist’ even used the phrase ‘final solution’.
We know where this particular road goes and I think most of us don’t want to go that way.
To answer the first question; we suspend politics in the face of terribly tragedy like this because Britain is a civilised fucking country. Making political capital out of terror is morally reprehensible.
To continue electioneering in the face of a terror attack is also fraught with danger. The ruling party shouldn’t be campaigning at a time like this it should be ruling. The parties in opposition could stand on the side taking cheap shots but if they win that way then the victory would be cheapened and they risk distracting the government. The government could deal with the distraction by calling the opposition unpatriotic and mobilising public opinion against them. The opposition could blame the government for the attack.
Then you’d get two factions drawn up against one another along party lines. The country would be divided. The terror attack would have damaged our democracy. Which was precisely the point.
Once again I return to the subject of how messed up everything is right now. For those who’ve missed my previous posts on the subject the title of this one is a joke about how in fiction Zeppelins are often a signifier of alternative reality.
If you’ve studied much history you’ll know that sometimes stuff happened that makes us look back and wonder exactly what Clio (muse of history) was smoking. There was a time when tulips were so sought after that a single bulb could sell for more than a house. There was a time when Britain used opium to pick two fights with China because China wouldn’t sell Britian enough tea and somehow Britain won. There was a time when armed gangs roamed the wild west of the U.S. battling over the remains of ancient monsters . There’s a period of European history (1870 -1914) known as the Great Binge because everyone who could afford it was constantly off their faces with a combination of drugs and alcohol. In 1932 Australia went to war against Emus (actual birds) and lost.
I think that we’re living through one of those periods right now. In the future people are going to look back and wonder if the train of reality somehow jumped its tracks. That’s assuming that there is a future and that the people alive then will have anything to look back on other than a giant crater.
Lets take a look at some of the fun things that have happened in little over a year:
- Widespread clown panics that suddenly stopped when a man many deride as a clown was elected to lead the United States of America.
- The British Electorate voted to leave the EU and then the British Government tried to aggressively implement that vote without apparently having any sort of map or plan about how to do it.
- The Northern Irish Assembly fell apart over a financial scandal, there still isn’t a new Assembly in place, but Northern Ireland voted against leaving the EU so Ireland could be about to reunify? Maybe?
- Scotland votes to remain in the EU. The UK Government refuses to let Scotland remain without the rest of the UK. The SNP led Scottish Government votes to hold a referendum on Independence (again). The UK Prime Minister, Theresa May, calls this decision divisive and says that it’s the wrong time and continues to say that right up until she calls a snap General Election that she had repeatedly said the could not and would not call.
- In the wake of the election of a reality TV star with zero relevant experience or expertise the US begins a slide into a dystopian failed state. This slide is repeatedly halted by lawyers working for free and judges who’ve somehow become the enemy of the establishment. Scientists steal back their own climate science data before the White House deletes it. The US parks service goes rogue and leads the resistance.
- The French presidential election is going to be a runoff between a fascist and the representative of a new political movement who is most famous for having married his former school teacher.
- The apparent terrorist attack on a German Soccer team bus turned out to be an attempted financial scam by stock price manipulation.
- The government of Chechnya has decided that now is the perfect time for a gay genocide. Presumably they think that Trump will distract everyone.
- Marco Rubio, previously not a friend of LGBTQA rights, stands up and denounces the gay genocide. Has he discovered that he actually has both a spine and a conscience or this this just because Ramzan Kadyrov, leader of Chechnya, is Vladimir Putin’s other boyfriend?
- Russia has built a replica of the German parliament, the Reichstag, so the army could re-enact storming it. There is nothing at all threatening about the fact that the replica is based on the contemporary Reichstag rather than the way it looked in 1945 when the Red Army actually stormed it.
- Kim Jong Un, the world’s favourite cosplay dictator, is so upset by now being the third or fourth craziest world leader that he has tried to pick a fight with the US. Presumably he’s banking on Donald Trump not knowing where North Korea is and launching missiles at North Virginia instead.
- In the US the Republican Party narrowly avoids another Government shutdown in the face of opposition from the Republican president and the Republican held Senate and House of Representatives. The Democrats are confused by the Republicans taking the positions as both the party of government and the party of opposition. Democrats may have to start disguising themselves as Republicans in order to more effectively oppose the policies of the President. Or maybe judges. Or Scientists. Or park rangers.
Am I in a coma or something? Is this all a hallucination? The rest of you are seeing this stuff too, right?
This isn’t a post about Millennials being all angsty. This is a post about GenXers and Baby Boomers getting all angsty about Millennials.
I just saw (with my own two eyes) someone claim that Millennials calling a phone with no battery charge ‘dead’ is down to their “morbid fascination with death”. This was my response.
What the actual fuck? I’m 45, so right in the middle of Generation X, and I say this. So does my mother, who was born during WWII, and my Mother-in-law, who is a Boomer. People have been describing a battery without charge as ‘dead’ for as long as we’ve had batteries.
To all the old people out there going to such an effort to ‘other’ young people I say, “Grow the fuck up. The reason you don’t ‘get’ them is down to the passage of time and your lack of imagination and intellectual laziness. Either make some effort or shut the hell up, lie the fuck back down and prepare for a dirt nap.”
It makes me so angry. The Boomers had entire genres of film and music based on the idea that the older generation didn’t understand them. And they learned precisely nothing from it.
I lived through the spectacle of the very people who listened to Rock and Roll (aka the Devil’s music) getting all panicky about Punk, Glam Rock and the New Romantics. I listened to the very men who got beaten up for having long hair getting all sniffy about men with make-up and women with buzzcuts.
Time moves on and a lot of people my age and older seem to want to either pretend that it doesn’t or to blame young people. Neither of those is going to work. New stuff keeps happening and some of it is great. Ask some young people to recommend some for you. Maybe listen when they talk? Maybe don’t assume that the world still works the way it did when you were young? Maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn to accept other people’s lived experience as genuine.
Or you could stop pretending to be relevant and get the hell out of the way.
There is this tension in my mind between my pessimism and the knowledge that I am depressed and I have terrible self esteem and thus things probably aren’t as bad as I think they are. I try to believe people when they say nice things, when they tell me that I am not worthless, that my work has value, that there’s hope. It goes against my instincts but my instincts are tainted by the chemical imbalance that make me hate myself.
But there’s two underlying problems with the assumption that my depression makes me misjudge the world around me. The first is the strong evidence that depressed people make more accurate estimations and predictions than the average person. Perhaps because depressed people are unburdened by optimism. The second is that experience tells me that things are usually at least as bad as I think they are.
I’ve written before about this feeling of being a constant disappointment to everyone around me. Even I sometimes think that it can’t be true. That I must be exaggerating or misreading things. I said that I thought my parents-in-law were disappointed in me and I could hear it in their voices. Well they’re visiting this week and my husband tells me that his mother has been subtly hinting that he should leave me.
I can’t really argue with that. He probably should leave me. In theory at least. I can’t see it working out so well in practice but that’s probably the pessimism talking.
It’s no surprise to me that she’s thinking that. It’s barely even news that she’s said it out loud to my husband. The snapping of that tension in my mind, though, that stings. That horrible reminder that yet again I was right. That knowledge that my biggest mistake isn’t my pessimism. It’s that I’m not pessimistic enough.
Still I’m putting a brave face on it. At least this means I can stop trying to please her. I don’t have to dress nicely or wear makeup around her. I can stop translating for her and her son. I can stop inquiring after her many friends and family. I can stop commiserating with the problems that come with owning three houses (all of them larger than any house I’ve lived in) and two cars (both new) and taking four holidays a year (and that’s only counting the holidays abroad).
I can go back to being my own slobby, untidy, bad tempered, worthless self.