Sunday Sampler: Jaded Edition

Sunday Samplers are a “lightning round” of different subjects, none of which really warrant a full post, that have popped into my head over the course of the past week. They may or may not be regular weekly posts.

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Sunday Sampler: Crankypants Edition

Sunday Samplers are a “lightning round” of different subjects, none of which really warrant a full post, that have popped into my head over the course of the past week. They may or may not be regular weekly posts.

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Sunday Sampler: Inaugural Edition

 Sunday Samplers are a “lightning round” of different subjects, none of which really warrant a full post, that have popped into my head over the course of the past week. They may or may not be regular weekly posts.

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Signal intrusion...? No, signal shift

Look... I originally had a very long, very rambling idea for this post, but I'll keep it short. 

Here's the TLDR version:

Why, yes, using this is a clever plan to ward off anyone from Wrestlesky. Like warding off vampires with delicious garlic knots.

I have reached terminal burnout on social media. I have realized that, for all that I support others & am happy to see their success, I am ultimately nothing to them. I am not allowed to express anything about things that I like or things that I dislike. I must constantly navigate minefields, bite my tongue, and endure what's become an endless string of behavior that just gives me flashbacks to the lowest point in my life and/or feels like I'm surrounded by overgrown agitated children who have been given too much caffeine.

Anything I share is at best ignored, be it my original writing or my yarn work or even just photos of my lovely cats. Note that I said "at best". At worst, it's time for social media's favorite activity, the dogpile. And always without any support.

Needless to say, my therapist & I are gonna have quite a talk about the whole "online friendships count" thing she's been trying to say, because I have definitely experienced some great counter-evidence to that claim.

The past week has been a prolonged sad experience, realizing that I am adrift, no lighthouse in sight, and any passing boats that notice me are just going to throw garbage at me. It's... well, it's hard to say that it hurts. More that it leaves you numbed and emptied.

Pictured: close approximation of my mental state.

Here's the thing, though - I am a stubborn, stubborn creature. And I need an outlet. And I am, let's be honest, old. See that highly relatable man with the lime water in the GIF at the top? I'm two years younger than him, and what he's saying there is an eternal mood once you're online at that age.

So I'm reworking this blog. Instead of leaving it moribund except for occasional writing updates, I'm going to use it as a general blog. When I write something worth sharing, be it original or fanfiction, I'll share it here. When I actually manage to finish a knitting or crochet WIP, I'll put the pictures here. When my cats do something cute, you'll be seeing it here. We're going back to the good ol' Web 1.0 era of blogs that do a little bit of everything. Basically, if you're interested in anything I'm doing, it'll be done here.

I knew there'd be a day when I'd have to give up on social media, even if it's my only real social outlet, because for every benefit I thought it brought, it also brought 2-3 things that just made my life worse. People have been saying "we need to return to blogs", so that's exactly what I'm doing.

In closing, please enjoy these photo of my cat attempting to steal my chickpea "chicken" salad sandwich only to be inevitably disappointed.

Eyes on the prize, paw on the plate.

SIGNAL LOST

A poem

Silent As The Tomb

There is an inconvenience here

It is you

Your survival

Your struggle

Your refusal to surrender

It offends us

This isn’t about you

It’s about us

It’s about our feelings

Our suffering

Our rewrite of your life

Our refusal to admit our ignorance

Our incuriosity

Our desire to fit the narratives

That everyone loves

Every second you are still here

You ruin the narrative

You are the selfish one

With your thoughts

And your survival

And your intangible reasons

We want the attention

We want the perception of wisdom

The perception of concern

You are just the prop

We are the true survivors

We tolerate your physical presence

That should be enough

That should show you we care

If you cannot do it

If you still fight

Then do us a favor

And stay silent

So we can still play pretend 

Watch this space...?

 

I'm not setting dates, but I will be resuming updates. Eventually. I'm also limiting the updates to this site and deleting the Wordpress mirror by the end of the year (or whenever the account expires).

So, please, watch this space.