Not from the story of our little vulpine protagonist, though, I am afraid.

He needs more time to rest up.

But I have been doing my best to open myself to happy, positive vibrations. I’m trying to trim back the cynicism and bitterness their harsh reaction to happy things.

Why should happy things make me angry and give me the urge to destroy them? To shit all over them with sarcasm and irony and even a towering, screaming kind of rage, like I felt with that online depression support group I tried joining?

The easy answer is that happy things represent something that I want but cannot have, and proximity to them is so painful that I feel the need to lash out and destroy them.

And that’s certainly true. But it’s not the whole truth.

I am going to leave it there, though, because I just realized that I set out to write about what gives me the good vibrations and immediately went in the opposite direction.

Well, ya gotta let out to let in, I guess. Like I said yesterday, opening up means both letting the bad stuff out and letting the good stuff in.

But okay. Let’s try this again. Good vibrations.

What makes me happy? What puts me in a good mood? What are my good vibes?

Well, like any other human being, I enjoy the company of like-minded people. That is why I am so damned happy at conventions, both sci-fi and furry.

I just know – I can feel it in my bones – that I am with my own kind. And the panels reinforce that feeling because they are intelligent discussions of things I care about.

Speaking of which, might as well get the big one out there : my favorite thing in the whole wide world is intelligent, stimulating conversation.

Nothing else makes me feel so happy and activated and alive. Nothing else makes me feel more like there is some point to my being here. Nothing else satisfies my soul the way good conversation does.

And yet it feels weird to say that because it makes me sound so cold. Like I am some kind of alien robot that lives only for intellectual stimulation, Earthlings.

I mean, I’m not a frickin’ Vulcan. They’re all full of crap anyhow.

And there are plenty of warm things I like, too. In fact, I am greatly drawn to sources of emotional warmth because my inner world is brightly lit but cold as Hell.

Which is, I guess, a very cold reason to crave warmth. Sigh.

But I can be warm, too. As Fruvous, I am a super snuggly warm n’ waggy bundle of floof. And I love to cuddle in the real world, too.

And I love being able to be kind and warm and emotionally present for people when they need me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make someone I care about happy, like clown around and be silly, or cuddle up all cute and fluffy, or just sit quietly and listen to them as they vent about their day.

Doing things like that can also make me feel like there is some point in my being alive.

I desperately want to help people.

And that’s not cold at all, is it?

More after the break.

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A strange beast

Two videos for this one. This somewhat obvious one :

But that’s a little esoteric and abstract and I am trying hard to come down to Earth, so let’s go with a deeper cut :

Because you see, like Tigger, the most wonderful thing about Fruvouses (Fruvii?) is that I’m… the only one!

And Tigger seems to handle being one of a kind quite well. Like me, he’s bouncy and friendly and nutty and one of a kind.

I just wish I had his carefree point of view. Talk about someone who lives in the moment. He just does whatever seems like the most fun at the moment and doesn’t worry about what’s to come at all.

Like I tried to convey via my little foxy yesterday, he knows how to enjoy the now to its fullest and let the future take care of itself, figuring that whatever comes, he will be able to handle it, so why worry?

And to me, that is a proper and sensible way to live. Seems a lot more functional than my gloomy and fearful point of view that has me oddly willing to live this brutally circumscribed life just to feel “safe”.

Well, not willing, exactly. It’s not like I ever actually chose this unsatisfactory life. I have made very few choices on that level.

Every time I changed addresses, it was because I had to, not that I wanted to.

But no, this live burial of a life of mine is the result of years of self-neglect and my stalwart refusal to face the future and reality and to bury my head in the Internet and video games for decades instead.

I didn’t choose anything about it.

I didn’t ever feel like I had a choice.

I know different now, sort of. It’s a hard thing to figure : do I actually have the power to make my life better, or do my mental and physical challenges lock me in place?

Believing I have a choice seems on the surface to be the wiser, healthier option. And it is certainly what my therapist and more or less the rest of our highly individualistic Western society would tell me was the correct point of view.

But if I can change my life, well then… I kind of “have” to do it, don’t I?

And that means figuring out what I want and then figuring out how to get it and then doing those things to get it plus all the other unforeseeable things that will undoubtedly pop up along the way and I am thoroughly exhausted just from thinking about it.

Even that first step feels beyond me. What do I want? I don’t fucking know! I have very little experience in wanting things.

Wanting things is hard. It really hurts when you can’t ever have those things. And when you feel as utterly powerless as I do, that covers everything. More or less.

And I know that POV is disgusting and wrong but I can’t see my way out of it. I don’t know how to convince myself that it is safe to start wanting things.

I am afraid to want things. It feels like such a doomed thing to do.

But I am going to have to grow up and learn to live with wanting things I cannot have and striving for the things I can just like everybody else.

And it’s gonna hurt.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.