Category Archives: Not Writing

33: Never Enough*

My perception of time is definitely damaged, unless that’s just a natural consequences of doing nothing except work, internet, repeat, without any sort of creative outlet to punctuate the cycle. (I’m hoping it’s the second thing.)


The list of things I wanted to have accomplished by this year (written last year):

  • Be elsewhere. <— moving into a different living space later today, still living in Montana which is not exactly what I want but the new living space is a definite improvement.
  • Get a different job. <— I quit my job.
    • Or make significant progress towards a certificate/degree that will qualify me for a different job. <— I enrolled in online school.
  • Figure out this writing thing. <— not. even. close.
  • Get moar tattoos. <— nope, but I pierced my other eyebrow (because symmetry).
  • Develop a sense of personal style. <— working on it.
  • Stop being so fucked-up all the time and accept that sometimes good things can happen to me and that’s okay, it’s not some kind of cosmic mistake that will have to balance itself out later a thousandfold. <— working on that also.

This past year I:

  • Nearly obliterated my hair. Blue, black, blue again, blue/purple/green with black underneath, mostly purple and blue, bleached to orange-yellow and gave up and put dark blue over it again, more bleach, sorta blondish, pale pink/coral and finally platinum. Lots of breakage, lots of deep conditioning, lots of protein treatments, lots of time on hair dye forums. (#girling #vanity)
  • Quit my toxic, stress-inducing job at the beginning of July, haven’t gotten a new one yet. I’m only starting to get anxious/desperate and worst case scenario, I know it’s easy to pick up a new job once you’re resigned to working in call center hell until you have a degree that you hope to god will result in a real job.
  • Enrolled in online school to pursue my associates degree in accounting. It was that or IT because those are the 2 career paths that seem to be the right combination of safe and interesting, accounting won out in a coin-flip I can justify in a number ways, but it was basically a coin-flip.
  • Writing. Very, very little writing, which I attribute—and I acknowledge this could be more stupid excuse than fact—to my toxic, stress-inducing job which was eating the majority of my braincycles on and off the clock. Since I’ve left, I at least feel more creative and more inclined to write, and this is a vast improvement over probably all of the previous year.
  • Discovered the following music: Blue Stahli, Celldweller, White Town.
    • Low volume of new artists but I am still buying new albums from artists I’m forever in love with (Aesthetic Perfection, Assemblage 23, Faderhead, Julien-K, Marilyn Manson (shut up), Orgy (also shut up), Solar Fake).
  • I am in a loving, mutually-supportive relationship with an amazing person who makes me want to be better than I am.

By this time next year, I want to:

  • Be elsewhere, more settled. Specifically, a more permanent living space with my significant other that we can turn into a home featuring our strange aesthetic preferences. Also kitties.
  • Learn to keep a reasonable boundary between my braincycles and my job because my braincycles are precious and jobs are just for money.
  • Still be working towards an accounting degree and not dropped out of online school again at all.
  • Write write write write write. :D
  • Moar tattoos.
  • Continue to cultivate personal style (because vanity).


*Title is an Aesthetic Perfection reference no one is going to get; I have been listening to that song on repeat for days.


Today it is one week since I quit my job. Right now I am drinking iced coffee and eating fancy chocolate seahorses and watching Markiplier play horror games on YouTube. Like an adult.

DTMFA: the Slow Career-Suicide Version

I used to work at a call center. Imagine a lunatic asylum that’s been left to govern itself with no outside intervention, where everyone behaves at about a junior high maturity level and the objectives you were given at the beginning of the month are rarely the objectives you are evaluated on at the end of the month. It’s like the Stanford prisoner experiment, except without the guards.

That job increased my anxiety and the frequency of my depressive episodes. I went nights without sleeping, because sleep meant I would have to go to work the next day. My writing stalled to an even more sporadic output than I believed was possible, to the point that I questioned whether I could still consider myself a writer. That job gave me nothing good except the paycheck—which was a paycheck I would never be able to live on without roommates, and I am grateful to have had that luxury.

Eventually, the reality penetrated that I couldn’t fix the situation, the best I would be able to do was remove myself from it. During the month when I decided I was going to quit soon and the two weeks when I knew I was leaving but no one else did,* I felt less stress than I’ve felt at any other point in the three years and five months I spent working for the company. Read absolutely everything into that.

I have wanted to post for a long time about my job but every time I started to write something, it sounded petty. Because it was petty. I will continue not posting about my job. The memories, even the good ones, are shot through with all the bitterness and helplessness and rage that I felt while working there, which is unfortunate because there’s at least one book in those memories.

I’m done with that job now. I won’t go back this time: I’m committed to moving forward. I am relieved.

The end. Finally.

*I saw far too many people fast-walked out of that company after giving notice to feel confident in my ability to work through my notice—and I needed the money—so I didn’t tell anyone I was quitting until I had finished my last day.**
**Note to corporate: this is the bridge you burn when you have a company policy stating managers are not allowed to give references for the people they managed, under threat of disciplinary action.

32: “And where the fuck is my script again?”

pbf - birthday

This is what I think of on my birthday. Every goddamn time.

Notation one: I’m beginning to think my perception of time is severely damaged, unless it’s normal to have an entire year pass and be basically exactly where you were the previous year with nothing notable to show for it.

Is this what adulting feels like? Because this is not something I’m into.

Notation two: Current blog design is still working for me, it can stay for a while longer.


The list of things I wanted to have accomplished by this year (written last year):

  • Elsewhere/new living space. <— didn’t do that.
  • Different job. <— didn’t do that either.
  • Writing consistently. <— not even close.
  • EXIT Strategy. <— working on it, but due to the fact that other humans have free will and freedom of action, I may not need as dramatic/far-flung an exit as I once believed necessary.
  • Seekrit Writing Plan. <— working on that too.
  • MOAR tattoos. <— asagi koi.

This past year, I:

  • Maintained blue hair—with several brief ventures into multi-color combinations but still always including blue. Because fuckyes.
  • Kept my job. I’m okay most of the time; I often think about getting a degree or certification in something/anything but most of the time I am okay.
  • Writing. I still feel like this is a core part of who I am. I got my reminder wrist tat touched up. I want to pursue this/I will pursue this.
  • Began to realize that it is not so strange an event when someone is interested in me.
    • Am now slowly circling the idea that I am not fundamentally worthless and unlovable and useless except as a placeholder until the other person finds someone else.
  • Discovered the following music: Conetik, Grendel, Haujobb, Mesh, UnterArt, [x]-Rx.
    • I am extremely into Mesh, it is mopey in all the right ways. Also very recently enamored with Faderhead, which I technically discovered last year but didn’t get into until recently when I began putting all the albums I have from him on repeat for days.

By this time next year, I want to:

  • Be elsewhere (what the hell let’s leave it on the list it’s practically tradition at this point).
  • Get a different job. |OR| Make significant progress towards a certificate/degree that will qualify me for a different job.
  • Figure out this writing thing (because writing).
  • Get moar tattoos (always moar tattoos).
  • Develop a sense of personal style (because adulting?).
  • Stop being so fucked-up all the time and accept that sometimes good things can happen to me and that’s okay, it’s not some kind of cosmic mistake that will have to balance itself out later a thousandfold.

Late to the Funeral: a softer world Is Ending

I have spent hours upon hours of my nighttime lifestrung out on too much caffeine or too much alcohol or just fucking depressed and too tired to sleephopelessly lost in the a softer world archives and laughing at the parts where I imagine a sane and stable person would cry.

It isn’t possible to overstate the impact Joey Comeau and Emily Horne’s project has had on me over the years I’ve been following it (thank fuck for the internet, amirite?). After 12 years of being consistently dark and gorgeous and brilliant, they have announced that they are ending it.

I adore a softer world beyond all reason and will miss it more than I can rightly articulate. Hopefully the site stays up for a long time, so more people will have a chance to discover this love letter for the fucked-up broken/damaged peoplea love letter for everyone, basically.

art is whatever gets you laid.

RIP|asw <3

PSA: They have a Kickstarter going for the next ~6 days to fund Anatomy of Melancholy: The Best of A Softer World, if you’re so inclined. (I was so inclined.)