Stress Direction and the Time I Have To Do Things

So I haven’t posted anything here very recently–hell, last thing I posted was a picture of a goat (which I swear is more impressive than it sounds) I drew for one of my sister’s stories.

I don’t think I have quite the steady readership here, but I do write elsewhere (fanfiction, mostly, on Archive Of Our Own, and Fanfiction.net), and I do actually have regular visitors to many of my stories.

Hell, in a world of usernames mostly made or kept from your tweens or drunken haha-this-is-obviously-the-best-idea‘s, I recognize a rather astonishing amount of usernames and profile pictures that aren’t actually of people. (Hahaha, yes, so sayeth Doodled93 with a Halloween costumed selfie to the one side and a picture of my dog on the other. But my username is an adaption of a childhood nickname and the creative use of my birth year, so.)

But the thing is, I have a pretty steady readership in my fanfiction plunges, people I’m surprised to see reviewing/commenting on one story or another because they’re usually commenting on other fandoms I’ve written in, and usually it’s pretty nice. The thing I like about Ao3 (archive of our own, for those not in the know) is how friendly everyone is, and while part of that, I think, is because you have to join a usually quick waiting list to even get an account (whereas there are many dud ffn.net accounts), but also because people looking into fanfiction are generally pretty nice.

Actually care about what you post, the quality you crank out, and people will respond.

I think the most negative comments I get nowadays is from people reviewing for the first time a story I wrote nearly, gosh, 8 years ago now(02/14), and it’s mostly about the overuse of some punctuation.

But the negative comments I get aren’t the annoying ones, not really, and I think I’ve mentioned this before, but berating and shouting at me for not having updated one story in a while gets me stressed and annoyed and a bit spiteful. 

It’s the stressed part of that mix that I’m going to be focusing on today, but you should really pay attention to the fact that when I get annoyed I get spiteful.

If you’ve read anything of mine before this, of the non-fiction side of things, you’ll know that I’ve had a lot to say about stress. I’ve written about stressful situations, I’ve written about what stress is really like for me, I’ve even just tagged posts as ‘stress’ or ‘stressful’ simply because writing about it gets my anxiety up.

I don’t deal with stress well.

I think I’ve gotten better, in that instead of bottling it up I let it out in bursts to Lexy and internet and real life friends in short bursts, but I still have the avoid-it instinct…

Do you see why it is doubly unwise to yell at me and snark about when I’ll likely update?

Because I’m NOT a writer that can work within a certain deadline, I am simply one that can work within parameters. Hmm, should this story be 10k/chapter, or maybe 5k, or should this be every 7 pages, or… hmm. When should I be updating this, because otherwise the chapter will either go on forever or else never get worked on due to its open-ended-ness.

When I was in a bad way after Ottawa-related failings, I was stressed and unhappy and trying my best to avoid real life and all that comes with that, and so I got quite a bit of writing done.

Because when you’re avoiding real life, fiction is where it’s at.

Or just the internet in general.

I read and wrote a hell of a lot, and was unemployed so I had all the time I could possibly want and/or need, and basically turned all my attention towards plot, character development, 10k long chapters, and taking breaks in-between to finish whole seasons of TV shows. As uncomfortable as it may seem to you, I wallowed in unemployment and a feeling of failure but was 80% oblivious to it because 80% of my day was turned towards fictional drama, and a large part of the remaining 20% was eating and sleeping in.

Now, however, I’m in a bit of a better place, and I have a job.

Full-time even, and for a while I had TWO jobs, at least until current job was like “What would it take for you to quit working other job and come here full-time?”

Kudos to past put-on-the-spot me, because I responded with ‘benefits’, because that seemed more likely than ‘more than minimum wage’.

And now while I have stressy bits of work (working in the produce section of an organic foods store means there’s ALWAYS SOMETHING TO BE DONE, and also manager issues but whatever), I am working full-time.

I can no longer utilize my best writing time (between 10pm and 2am) because I either have work to get to at 7am, or I’ve returned from an exhausting shift that ended at 9:30pm.

So no, my writing is not happening at quite the same pace as it was last year, or even over the summer, but you know what?

Stress is usually the thing that gets me writing, because it is an escape.

Sometimes more than reading, because I am quite literally feeling like I’m in my characters head.

When I haven’t written in a long while, or am blanking on what–or how–to write in a particular story I have yet to update for a while, I experience a bit of anxiety, because I do want to write. I enjoy it. But I stress myself out in a minimal way when I haven’t updated something in a while, because I’m disappointing myself. Not in a ‘you could do better’ kind of way, but more like making plans, looking forward to it, and then finding out that either you or the person(s) you were going to hang out with and do that thing with can’t make it.

Oh, ok. Next time then. 

But when I get passive aggressive remarks and pressure from people who, while it’s flattering that they’re enjoying what I’ve written that much, don’t give a f*** what else I’m doing or how much pressure they and their unknowing compadre’s are putting on me, who would very likely feel a bit of camaraderie with the others if they knew (Hah, the author will have to update sooner than expected if we’re ALL shouting at the same time), well.

Stressed.

Annoyed.

Spiteful.

Let’s work our way up, shall we?

Spite, a desire to hurt, annoy, or offend someone.

Leads up to Annoy, irritate (someone); make (someone) a little angry.

And though it’s not in there, anger is part of this too.

I don’t like being angry, I don’t like the way it makes me feel, I don’t like experiencing that boiling in my gut, and I especially don’t like how hard it is to keep it focused on the intended recipient/aggressor. It’s like the difference between being a little peeved and being actually angry is like using two different types of weapons. Being peeved is like your emotions are turned into a laser, easy to point it at the thing that’s causing it.

Being angry is like having that laser pointer turned into some kind of gun that lets out a poisonous miasma. It’s scary, there’s kickback that can injure you, and as soon as it’s out, it’s up in the air. It could affect anyone. Could hurt anyone.

And you know what? If you let me get to know you for 48 hours, within that 48 hours I will have figured out what sort of thing I would have to say to you to actually hurt your feelings, the way that shouldn’t hurt because it’s a relative stranger saying it to you, but hits deep anyways. But I don’t say it. Ever. Because if hearing that it’s that easy to figure out how to hurt a stranger verbally puts you off from ever wanting to interact or even meet me, then maybe it’ll change your mind to hear that I don’t say any of it because I find it very easy to empathize, and I’m selfish enough to not want the emotional backlash of hurting your feelings.

But being actually angry makes that wall in my head of ‘no, you do not say this ever’ seem more like a line, and hey, isn’t it closer than I thought it was, and I bet I could walk right over it, easy as pie.

And that is stressful.

Stress, a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances, makes me want to escape. I don’t like being angry because I don’t like confrontation, and I don’t like actually feeling stressed out because I don’t like feeling like I need to escape.

And I really don’t like feeling like I need to escape from my escape.

There are a few situations that I get into that translate into me not being able to write coherently/well.

Alcohol. I will never be that writer who sits down to write with a bottle of wine (i don’t drink wine but that’s besides the point), or with a beer, and a masterpiece will never have its rough draft written in a drunken haze.

Exhaustion. I can write best when it’s late into the night, but I’m pretty antisocial, and interacting with people is exhausting. This is why I don’t really write well after work, because 1) I’m tired, and 2) writing how character a interacts with characters b-z around them is working socialization muscles that do not have the capabilities for this sort of work. I get steadily more anxiety ridden when I have to talk for a prolonged amount of time, and that makes me stressed, and makes me want to escape, and it’s hard to interact socially and also escape at the same time.

And I kind of just mentioned it within ‘exhaustion’, but Stress.

Because if you missed it,

It is hard to interact with anything when all you want to do is escape.

So yeah, this is 1700 words of unhappiness at how some strangers on the internet are making something I enjoy, something I like escaping to, into something I feel like I need to escape from.

Juice Before I Murdered Them

Yet another post about my craptastic roommates, and I know that some of you are going to be like “Pfft, whatever, it’s just juice” but I get more than a little pissed off when my stuff is opened and eaten without my knowing!

Yes this is about Juice. It wasn’t a typo in the title.

My parents came down to Ottawa to visit last weekend, as it’s March Break for most people in (not university) schooling, and they were nice enough to take me shopping at the local Metro (grocery store).

They bought me bread, they bought me ham and a variety of cheese, crackers, they also were smart enough to get me some heavy things, things that are more awkward to carry home.

Such as Milk and Juice.

Juice is something I love.

Other people are like “hey, I’ll have some milk and cookies.”

I am like “Hey, sure I’ll have some cookie–OHMYGOD! Is that JUICE?”

Juice lasts longer than milk, it comes in more flavours than milk, it comes in little boxes that DON’T have to be refrigerated, it is a part of my childhood that I have dragged, kicking and screaming, into adulthood.

While my friends were wasting money buying pop, I brought a number of juice boxes to school.

Because one juice box isn’t enough. Nope.

And my friends came to appreciate this, as I keep more than just two, on the not so off-chance I’ll be hanging out after school for longer than anticipated.

It wasn’t as odd as it sounds that they could ask, with some certainty that I would be able to deliver, if I had a juice box for them.

So my roommates OPENING (as in, it was sealed) and DRINKING (as in, I wasn’t the first to drink) about half of the 1.89L of MY JUICE (blood orange, if you’re wondering), just know that I am outraged.

Just about as outraged when I found that they had eaten all of my cheese.

I’m not sure what I’m more angry about, but I am pissed >:  (

And, if they eat all my cheese again on TOP of this, I am going to kill them.

Maybe after spiking all their food with laxatives.

Assholes…

I am just about ready to go to war with them at this point in time, and I will not be held responsible for damage to their food.

Doom shall come to those who come between me and my food…

They haven’t yet made moves against my meat (wow, that sounds vaguely sexual :S), and I am only going to say that they don’t because they don’t know if I’ll be using it for a meal or how long it has been in the fridge.

They certainly don’t pay attention to their own food… I had to, a couple of months ago, throw out a large Tupperware of sausages.

They were already white and fizzy, and were growing blue.

If they do ever eat my meat products (or more cheese, or more juice), then I am going to have a full on hissy fit.

A temper tantrum of epic proportions.

It will not be limited to expressing my anger through blog-form.

Oh, and if they ever tried stealing one of my jars of home-made salsa…

On a more cheerful (and less murderous) note, Mom and Dad seemed to have fun, staying Sat-Tues, and when I had to leave the to their own devices for a bit on Monday while I reviewed/studied, They went on a tour to the Parliament Buildings. I also ended up taking three showers in two days, as I took advantage of the saltwater pool at the Minto Suites my parents stayed at. I also ate spring rolls with plum sauce (that had wasabi mixed into it) that made me want to cry, as I’ve been eating more cafeteria food in an attempt to use up my meal plan.

To the family who reads this, I love you! To everyone else, I love you too! Just not as much as I love my family 😉

Bonus: Delicious foods and instructions to make delicious food, good for runners and “green smoothies” HERE

Bloody Mary: The weirdest massage ever

I’ve heard of a number of massages, and the weirder ones are usually the ones that sound the most painful.

The idea that people pay to have someone slap them around and thump them to get knots out of their muscles is weird to me, as is the idea of placing hot stones over your joints, but obviously it works, otherwise it wouldn’t be popular.

Acupuncture as a form of massage (or other relief, I don’t know what you would call it) makes me curious even as it makes me shiver.

As a side note, why is it, in cartoons, acupuncturists always seem to have poison needles as well as normal needles? And why must they place the two boxes side by side?

Moving on.

Through reading manga (Lexy, Mom, I’m taking a BREAK from studying, sheesh…) (a yaoi romance HERE if you’re curious, explicit just to warn you) I saw mention of a weird massage.

I thought that Bloody Mary was only a drink, but apparently not.

Someone somewhere decided that it was a good idea to make it into a massage as well. Or a wrap. It involves doing both as far as I understand

Yes, it has vodka involved.

And many tomatoes.

I’m not going to go too much into it, as I am still mostly baffled as to why someone would decide to make this into a massage (though, like acupuncture, I am fascinated and curious and kind of maybe want to try it)

You can read another blog HERE about more details. Apparently it makes your skin really smooth as well, and gets the blood pumping (due to vodka, and you don’t even drink it!)

I just thought it was weird.

I didn’t really think that people used so much food in such ways outside of that one episode from The Weekenders (cartoon I loved watching) where the ever-changing Pizza Place was a spa, and they had Cheese wraps (actually wrap them up) and pepperoni slices to place over their eyes.

Speaking of cheese, For those who have read about my complaints about my Roommates (here here and here), an update. They ate all of my cheese. It was a big block of it. They ate it all.

This is unacceptable.

I just want them to stop eating my stuff... Is that too much to ask for?

So yeah, weird massage/wrap sharing and profound sadness over cheese thieves.

My life.

😀

My Roommate the Sasquatch

I am a student of University of Ottawa, and I’m living in res. I managed to get an apartment style residence, which means that there’s 4 rooms in total, a kitchen area, two bathrooms, and a living room area.

So I have three roommates, two boys and one other girl, and I have to share a washroom with one of the boys…

In my mind I now call him Sasquatch.

I pretty much never see him… he’s hairy… and leaves mysterious signs of his presence via hairiness.

I have posted something in complaint before, HERE, on how he leaves thousands of little hairs on the floor of the shower. It’s disgusting, grosses me out, and I have to spend some time before each shower rinsing the hairs down the drain.

I have also posted a complaint HERE about how my roommates are stealing my food. This is just so you know exactly how unimpressed I am with my roommates.

But earlier this week the grossness from the shower migrated to the sink.

Cue Horrified expression

And I was horrified.

I took this picture not so shortly after I escaped from the nastyness, because I was certain the horrified look that came to my face upon discovery was still there

You know something’s bad when you feel like you have to wash your hands after you wash your hands.

Look upon it in horror!

It’s like all the grossness on the floor of the shower was brought to this smaller area, with dirt and grime and strange blue… stuff to create this concentration of nastyness that, I am pretty much ENTIRELY sure that The Sasquatch heard me complain about from his room…

He possibly even heard me rant to my Mom on the phone later that night, but if he managed to miss the startled “HOLY SHIT!” that flew from my mouth when moved from finishing my business to wash my hands…

EeeeeeEEEEEEEEwwwwwWWWWWWW-eh! Mom make it GO AWAY!

I don’t feel like a baby complaining to mom, because I am GROSSED OUT!

But I am still a bit too much of a wimp to complain directly to him… But perhaps I will print out this picture and put it on his door or something…

"Please stop leaving hair in the bathroom... everywhere. Clean up after yourself... kthxbai!"

Just… Just– EUGH!

It’s so gross! DX

Has anyone else had roommates this gross? What do you DO about it?

His cleanliness gives me the heebee jeebies…

BLEGH!

"Bow ties are cool... THAT is NOT"

Sleepy Ponderings 2… ANGER

The guy called again..

Last night… or rather this morning. For those confused, read this small blurb

Same, frigging number… what the hell???

AND… where the hell is he calling from?

I think he’s stupid as hell, but at the same time, I’m not going to give out his number… but where the hell has an area code of (250)???

AND… I was looking at the call log of my phone… looks like he tried calling about 5 days ago.

How many times can you call the same wrong number?

And why do you have to do it so early?

This morning he called me TWICE.

At TOTALLY different times.

ONCE at 2am…

ANOTHER time at 4am.

WHAT THE HELL?

I am absolutely baffled.

I just looked up where area code (250) is…

British Columbia. 

British frigging Columbia

This makes no sense to me.

WHO is he trying to call? He called five days ago once, yesterday twice, this morning twice

And I have a Toronto area code.

Is he trying to call someone in Toronto?

And not realizing at all that he’s missing by about 5-6 hours away?

Since I’m in frigging Ottawa?

Toronto OR Ottawa, frigging long way away

This is just BAFFLING to me. Even if I knew specifically what city in BC he was in, the difference is still huge! And he called five times.

How can you cal the same wrong number so many times?

And at totally ridiculous times???

I don’t understand this…

My frustrations at being woken up at such ridiculous times knows no bounds, and my anger early this morning at my phone going off was immense and soul crushing.

WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AT 2 AM??? 4AM? SERIOUSLY?

This anger was translated from my frustrations last night, resolved as I finally went to bed, and dug up again as Placebo’s ‘Pure Morning’ (funny, now that I think on it) rang out and warring states of my mind groggily woke up.

One part says I should just hang up.

The other says no… pick it up.

It might be important.

For those who have read my other posts, you may guess I’ll be referring to Insanity and Sanity.

Well I have to mention now that IF I had listened to Sanity, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.

I wouldn’t have had that moment of “Oh shit, it’s the guy from yesterday” calm before the storm thought, before he said the EXACT SAME THING he said before. But at that early a time, any angry rants had to muddle through the thick screen of shouldn’t-I-be-asleep-right-now? fog. People have joked about fog before, talking about how it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I remember a Scooby-doo episode where he cut out a fog cookie from the air and ate it.

This fog, at that time, was too thick for that. You would need an axe to even dent this fog. And the conversation was done too quickly for such actions to be taken my inner rant maker, my inner angry child.

“…Hello?”

“Oh, um, I think I have the wrong number”

“… Yes, you do. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, uh–“

*click*

And so I hung up and spent a good couple of minutes being angry at myself for not yelling at him. Then the fog of tiredness came up and knocked me out with it’s solidness.

Two hours later, Pure Morning started twanging and then drumming me to wakefulness, and this time I listened to Sanity’s first bit of advice, and hung up immediately.

I now recognize the assholes number.

Of course, this being the second call that early in the morning, Sanity was now agreeing with Insanity, ignoring the niceties that you should observe when on the phone, and was urging me to pick up the phone and ask why, exactly, he was calling ANYONE at that time of the day, and then swear at him until HE was the one to hang up.

The next time he calls, IF he calls (hope he doesn’t for the most part), I hope I’m aware enough to ask who the hell he keeps trying to call.

Oh, and one other obvious question.

Happy Hermit Day!

Happy Hermit day everyone!

I figured that with the number of posts that are wishing you a happy Christmas, I would wait until the end of the day AFTER good ol’ Xmas to say Happy Hermit day!

Let this be a lesson to all who thought it would be a great idea to go to the mall today, that some people and families, like Lexy and mine, know that today is not actually the day to go out and try to get a deal.

Today is a great day to hang out with the family (AT HOME) and bask in the no-need-to-buy-more glow, and stay in your hovel cave hole home and embrace the hermit like tendencies that you usually bury in order to be social with friends.

To students, this is that same tendency that pops up around exam time that tells you to stay in and study and maybe spend some time huddled in your closet to hide from your textbooks.

To everyone else, please note that if you MUST go out and shop so soon after the Xmas holidays, the deals stay up for a while longer after today. They aren’t AS great, but you won’t get elbowed in the face, you won’t feel claustrophobic in the wide open expanse of the mall, and the employees at the store you’re at will be in a much better mood… most haven’t worked the day before, so they feel really lucky to miss the rush.

This is just a message.

I would have posted this earlier in the day, but I don’t think the people who need to read this would have read it in time anyway.

To all, Happy holidays and Happy Hermit Day!

Not this kind of hermit... though some may still feel a bit crabby 😀

The Difference Between a Writer and an Actor: The Muse

I think that there is a reason that Actors and Directors and whatever end up doing what they do, and writers and script writers end up doing what they do.

I think it’s mainly the mindset of the person in question, when their muse kicks them in the face.

Two people are thinking. They are, for some reason, thinking of a fight scene.

Perhaps those two people are angry at someone for eating their cereal (perhaps even their roommates), or are in a bad mood because of exams and in their inner imagination, imaginary them is kicking imaginary Exam’s ass all across a papery, lead smudged landscape. Either way, one imaginary character is beating up another imaginary character.

Your Muse is one character. There is no choice in this, it is just so.

Sometimes you are in the mindset of your Muse character, YOU are the muse. In imaginary situations like these, you are working with your Muse towards an ultimate creative goal, towards that intensely interesting idea or image that’s been niggling at the back of your mind for a while now. Like the idea to mix Baileys and eggnog, or to go to BulkBarn and buy a lot of wafer sticks and chocolate to try to make a gigantic KitKat bar… The other is some other representation.

Sometimes you are the referee in the fight, or just a spectator. As a referee, you can stop and rewind the match, redo parts if you will. As a spectator you’re letting things go on, rooting for your Muse against this imaginary menace. In this situation you are reviewing ideas you’ve had for a while, pairing them together with other ideas that you’ve had at some point.

Occasionally you are facing your Muse. It is in these situations that it is actually your Muse who initiates this daydream. It is in these situations you wish you hadn’t always imagined your Muse as such a bad-ass. This situation arises when you have been neglecting your Muse, and haven’t been letting the creative juices flowing.

To get these creative juices flowing, your muse will kick you in the face.

Watch as the juices flow.

But back to the two people.

Regardless of what sort of match up this is, these two people see an amazing move, something realistic that looks too cool to NOT be expressed in some way.

So, Person Z starts thinking about how they could possibly imitate that move, how they could possibly train for it. If Person Z has training in some sort of fighting, they will think about the other moves that they could possibly combine to do that move, they will try looking up fake fighting techniques (on Google or YouTube or anything else) to see if they could incorporate anything into pulling this off. They might also then imagine themselves pulling the move off in some sort of dramatic play or something.

Person 26, on the other hand, will think about how they could possibly describe that move. Those combinations of actions. How could they write it in such a way that the reader could fill in any gaps, how could they make it so that it wouldn’t seem stunted or stuttering, choppy? Person 26 will try writing it down to edit later, and/or will try reading or watching something with an action scene in it, to get their mind working in such a way that they will be able to write this action, or actions, in a way that flows. They will try to imagine what kind of plot they could use this in.

To show that I didn’t have any preference between the two, I didn’t name them A and B or 1 and 2 or X and Y or anything else that has a first one and then the other kind of connotation or connection.

Person Z is the actor, and Person 26 is the writer.

While the two may mix (example: John Green [writer] and his sort-of acting on a vlog [Brotherhood 2.0 or vlogbrothers]), your muse will, in some way, prefer to have you try to express the ideas they promote in SOME way, eventually.

I realized this a little earlier, while daydreaming in between studying, and realized that somewhere someone else is probably having a daydream as well, and might be thinking about acting it out instead of writing it out like I was thinking of doing.

I realize that from my title I’m kind of implying that the difference between an actor and a writer is their Muse, but everyone’s Muse is similar. It’s just the way that people use and react to their muses that’s different.

Muses will become lazy, or overactive, or will have a muse crash, or will be suddenly into that genre that you don’t actually like or write or whatever that often, or will be so into a certain thing that you end up blowing off other things to try to get it out of your and your Muses systems…

And I’m not trying to say that your Muse will always show you things via intense fighting, but I am saying that your muse, if you ignore it will kick you in the face.

Ka-POW! The creative juices are now flowing. (you are not the Zebra, you are the lion that just got pwned)

P.S. Update on studying: IT SUCKS! But is getting done. It is the shit hitting the fan in my mind. It’s everywhere.