And why so many of us are neurotic AF.
Here it goes :
I kind of wish I had gone into more detail. But then again, I always do. And if I had gone into more detail, it would have doubled the length of the thing and thus doubled the risk of me making a mistake that would mean I’d have to start over.
Not being able to immediately edit the resulting video is one major downside to doing my stuff on TikTok.
But it has its advantages. I think it makes my style more light and breezy, which I think plays a lot better. More appealing, makes the verbiage go down easier.
And it’s quick and easy. Just record and post. Easy peasy.
Writing the description and the tags takes more work than that.
I recently looked up what the hell TikTok Stories are. I had been wondering ever since I joined TikTok but it took me this long to realize I could just ask an AI.
Turns out they are short video clips meant to be just quick observations or hot takes on something or something along those lines.
Oh, and they are automatically deleted after 24 hours.
Says whaaat? Why, god damn it?
I guess they were looking to compete with other short-term hosting sites but for me, everything I make is sacred and a part of me so um, no thanks.
I’m a Taurus. We don’t do ephemeral.
Maybe I should join a bunch of Taoist monks and make my mandala with black and white sand and work on it till it represents me to the maximum extent, until there is no way to invest more of myself into it, and then….. erase it all.
That’s supposed to teach you about accepting impermanence and learning to let go of the material world and all that ascetic crap.
I mean, I am not disagreeing with the aim of going beyond our sense of self so that we can discover who we really are, and thus face the world with the doors of perception cleansed, like Blake said.
But letting go of the material world is not on my agenda.
I am looking to get more invested in it, not less. Right now I live in screens and ideas and thought, and that’s the opposite of secure. This world of illusion shifts according to the whims of the winds inside me and my entire affect can change in the time it takes to finish a thought.
And that’s no way to live.
I need to be more out of my head and into the world, not less. But it’s so hard to change something as fundamental as that. I have been retreating from reality into the realm of media and my mind ever since I was raped at the age of 4, 48 years ago.
Perhaps this is another case where Prince Xanax can come to my aid. It’s very hard for me to really understand the extent of my mental illness because it’s been the water I swim in for so long, but my morning with Xanax at Kinsmen give me a glimpse of life without anxiety and it’s pretty good.
Maybe I should use Xanax a little more often. Maybe it would make it easier for me to face life and deal with things and generally act like a grownup.
Maybe I don’t have to live this life of mine any more as long as I am willing to take on more chemical assistance.
Yeah, I have Paxil and Wellbutrin in my veins, but Xanax helps on a wholly different level than those.
You’re not supposed to use it as an all the time, primary defense against your symptoms kind of thing. It’s meant to be used for special occasions, for lack of a better way of putting it.
But those little vacations from my anxiety sure are nice.
Why can’t they make a long term anti-anxiety that is THAT good?
More after the break.
Badly bolted together
Feeling weak and shaky and fragile tonight, like a badly assembled robot.
Partly because I hurt myself kinda bad. I got overzealous when I was removing the shedding skin from my right foot and manage to rip a big hole in the heel.
Plus fuck up that callous bump by picking at it, too.
Feels good to have that damn thing be smaller, though.
So I have been limping and ouching my way around the apartment today. Oh, how I have suffered. So tomorrow, when I go to Wound Care, I will have to show my self-inflicted wound to the nurse and get them to pack and bandage it, hopefully with some extra padding so that moving around doesn’t hurt so much.
I am not sure it was entirely my doing, though. Because – warning, body horror – the inside of the wound is black.
That doesn’t seem normal at all.
So I guess it’s possible that tomorrow will end with me getting sent to Urgent Care. The nurse might take one look at it and say, “You need to take this to the doctor!”
So I will mentally prepare for that.
If it goes that way, they will probably just put me on the waiting list system thing anyhow, like last time, so it’s not like I will have to wait around at the UPCC.
So whatever. I come home, I do my usual stuff, I await the text. No big deal.
I just want my poor heel to stop hurting. Today’s been a little on the miserable side because of this hole in my foot. Luckily it mostly doesn’t hurt when I am not putting weight on it. Just a faint burning sensation, easily ignored.
God, I am tired of things being wrong with me. I mean, beyond the usual things that have been wrong with me so long that they’re just part of the background to me now.
Sleep apnea, depression/anxiety, diabetes, ennui, the usual.
Right now I am gonna lay down and rests my poor foot.
My life is so fucked up.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.