Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
azurelunatic: A spray of $CELEBRATORY_FIZZY_BEVERAGE from a beribboned bottle caught in the moment just after the cork pops. (bubbly)
2017 In Review

I didn't keep particularly good notes this year. A lot of things were going on, and I couldn't necessarily talk about them in public at the time.

A lot of things. )

We had a quiet New Year at home. I was still jet-lagged enough to need a nap before midnight. Partner found various countdown live feeds online. We toasted the new year sparkling pomegranate-apple cider at midnight, and kissed.
azurelunatic: A baji-naji symbol.  (baji-naji)
For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I started contemplating the components that make up an effective apology to me. There are the "five apology languages", which are siblings of the "five love languages", or something. That's interesting, but it isn't quite what I'm looking for.

What am I looking for?

a) Acknowledgment of the effect, and regret. (Regret is one of the apology languages.) Something happened and I was hurt; in an intimate and trustworthy relationship, I want them to know how I was hurt, and why it was hurtful. (Late to an event, hurt feelings, stubbed toe, irritated, etc.) Since they need to care for my well-being, I feel that it's appropriate that they regret my well-being was affected.
(In an untrustworthy relationship, giving them more information on how they have hurt me just gives them ammunition to hurt me further. If you find in your life that there are people where you don't want to let them know that you are hurt or how, contemplate your options for reducing those people's access to you.)

b) Root-cause analysis. What are the factors that led to this happening? Some are the responsibility of the person. (Accepting responsibility is one of the apology languages.) Sometimes there are factors that are nobody's responsibility, or are the responsibility of entities who are in no position to have things changed as a result of the incident. (A terrible day at the DMV is not likely to be solved by anyone saying "Hey, this was terrible.")

c) Making restitution, if appropriate. (Making restitution is one of the apology languages.) A date can often be rescheduled. Doing something nice and out of the ordinary is a mood-lifter. Fixing or replacing the broken thing. Sometimes there isn't really anything that can be done to make it better, and that probably should be acknowledged.

d) Failure prevention. (In the listed apology languages, "genuinely repenting" seems to fit this the closest.) With root-cause analysis and knowledge of the effects, we can use those to plan to avoid circumstances where this comes up again, and make a plan for mitigating the effects if it does come up again.

In my present primary relationship, my partner always genuinely regrets the hurt. They don't always understand why it was hurtful, so that portion often involves a lot of discussion. (And I can contribute to things going better by being more flexible in when and how that discussion happens.) The root cause often involves things that have grown out of traumatic experiences and situations in our past, which is ... fun. Restitution hasn't been a huge factor.

Root cause analysis and failure prevention tend to slide together, even though I have them listed as separate steps. It's at the failure prevention step where, like magic, I start calming down and feeling incredibly secure and loved. Since some of the factors involve trauma, the failure prevention often involves the slow process of healing (with and without the assistance of professionals), and my understanding and forgiveness of those things.

We're learning how to fight well and safely, and I love them so much.


May. 7th, 2017 08:58 pm
azurelunatic: Upstretched hands bound at the wrist and chained. (wrists)

No matter who starts it, it goes both ways. Mutual possessiveness, mutually possessed.

There are the escape clauses that make it safe to curl this tightly together, and the rules that protect us from some of the more obviously terrible overly intimate impulses.

But mostly, there's just us.


azurelunatic: Polyamory infinite hearts, in a polymer-like grid (polymer)
Couple milestone: be hit on, as a couple, in a dive bar in Fremont.

(My partner discerned that I was not up for any of that at this time, and politely brushed the guy off. The guy was later seen hitting on another couple that included a boobilicous brunette. It was very, very loud in there, and I was hitting sensory overload between the audio, the crowd, the lighting, and standing without a wall at my back.)
azurelunatic: AO3 rating glyph: Explicit, Multi-relationships, choose not to warn, unfinished.  (how is this my life)
There are a few resonant phrases in this relationship. Some are endearments and other such private things.

There are two that occupy adjacent spaces.

"As long as we both want it."
That's our time commitment. If both of us no longer want the relationship, it's time to work on dismantling it with the same consideration and love we put into constructing it. If so many as one of us no longer wants it, it's time to end it.

And as long as we both do want it, that means putting in the work. Being present. Taking care. Tackling the problems that pop up.

And there will be problems. But we don't have to face them alone anymore.

"Together. As we do with all things."

Even when we still have to do a specific part alone, the principle stays with us. The hard things are a little less hard with someone holding your hand.
azurelunatic: A green-blue-and-purple gemstone heart, made of alexandrite (alexandrite)
Love is real.

Everyone is worthy of love. (Without, I may add, an obligation for any one person to provide that love, nor should this be any excuse to not behave like an ethical sentient being. And no particular reason that any given person's love should look the way any other person would expect it to be.)

My partner and I have been proving to each other that love is real, repeatedly and continuously. Little messages of support. Reminders to put things in the calendar. Kisses. Skype calls that start just before bedtime and either disconnect quietly in the middle of the night, or are still running in the morning when Antisocial Cat begins to demand breakfast. Consideration and care. Not going too fast. Making checklists so that if we break up, we can break up safely, swiftly, and completely. Admitting when we can't even anymore, and sending the other in the direction of another friend for support. Poking each other when we've seen that another friend is having a bad day and could use a kind word. Decisions about lunch. Saying hello to the cat. Bad puns. Saucy selfies. Poetry. Determination. Resistance. Solidarity. Community.

Survival is resistance.

Thriving is resistance.

Art is resistance.

Love is resistance.

Love is real.

Not worthy?

Dec. 7th, 2016 09:38 pm
azurelunatic: We're about to set a weirdness baseline the likes of which the planet has never seen.  (weirdness baseline)
Poll #17774 Proving a point to someone
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: Just the Poll Creator, participants: 35

On the worthiness of partners (this would be my primary partner, who I started seeing *formally and officially* in September)

They are worthy of dating Azz
14 (40.0%)

They are not worthy of dating Azz, sorry
0 (0.0%)

I don't know one or both of these parties well enough to answer this
19 (54.3%)

My response to this cannot be summed up in a radio button, and I should comment
2 (5.7%)

And furthermore!

They make Azz happy
27 (77.1%)

Azz makes them happy
11 (31.4%)

Their ex is a screaming toolbag
14 (40.0%)

I'm just glad nobody's in serious denial anymore
10 (28.6%)

I'm just glad nobody's cheating on anybody anymore
10 (28.6%)

What about Darkside, though?
0 (0.0%)

What about Purple, though?
2 (5.7%)

What about sithjawa, though?
0 (0.0%)

What about [attractive denizen of a certain continent], though?
1 (2.9%)

Let's hear it for polyamory
24 (68.6%)

At last, someone with a strong enough Weirdness Field to date Azz!
6 (17.1%)

At last, someone with a strong enough Weirdness Field to date this person!
3 (8.6%)

It's disconcerting the way Azz is around much less on the public internet
11 (31.4%)

Fuck cancer forever
33 (94.3%)

Nobody is allowed to marry anybody (until at least 2020)
3 (8.6%)

Why does Azz have to move to the Pacific Northwest, though?
4 (11.4%)

22 (62.9%)

23 (65.7%)

My tweets

Dec. 5th, 2016 12:01 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
  • Sun, 23:18: RT @NitrateDiva: Traditional Twitter Blessing: May you never make a typo in a tweet that goes viral.
  • Mon, 00:42: Three months today officially with my sweetie. We're still completely insufferable.
  • Mon, 05:31: RT @NWSBayArea: Patchy fog currently being observed, mainly N Bay Valleys with visibility is as low as 1/4 mile. Allow extra time for morni…
  • Mon, 05:31: RT @NWSBayArea: Sunset in #SanFrancisco tomorrow (Dec 6) is at 4:51 pm, the earliest sunset of the year. Shortest day is Dec 21 (winter sol…
  • Mon, 09:32: https://t.co/EKoUOitOGw I feel that McDonald's & bagpipes are not a great mix, but I'm Alaskan so what do I know. (moose belong outside tho)
  • Mon, 09:43: Now Is the Time to Talk About What We Are Actually Talking About https://t.co/bJnS6wRNCi via @newyorker
  • Mon, 09:59: A small and happy thing: to curl up on the virtual floor of my morail, and discover that my matesprit is there too. <> <3 #homestuckrefs
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Today was just a kind of great day all around.

I got some lovely quality time with someone important, and acted as an inadvertent muse for some writing. :)

It turns out that someone I have long been acquainted with via the internet is now local, and we met up for hot chocolate and gossip at Borderlands. I look forward to many more beverages-gossip-and-writing meetups as long as we remain local!

It turns out that when I'm forced to choose between Foreigner and Rosemary and Rue, I will go with Bren. They're for different things, with me, and the application here felt more like that one.


There was dinner with a friend who was in from out of town. Purple had offered that he might be available, but teased me that he didn't *have* to be available, if it was that kind of dinner.

It was the kind of dinner where things that had previously been hinted at were made somewhat less oblique. It was also the kind of dinner where my phone decided to malfunction by turning itself off repeatedly, in a way that made me despair for its actual lifespan. Fortunately, applying power made it behave itself better. (Even though the battery was showing 30-something percent.)

It took us a while to actually successfully wish each other goodnight, as additional topics of discussion kept occurring. But I was home at a sensible hour, and gave Dawn the promised update. (My primary partner got first update.)

And tomorrow will be General Togetherness! Should be fun.
azurelunatic: panic button.  (panic)
My readers who don't have access have seen precious little of me lately (and I've been scarce locked as well). Two big reasons.

First, and most delightfully, I am in some sort of relationship; the details are still being worked out, but the important part is that we have each other now. So that's been taking a fair chunk of my social time.

Second, when they took out my uterus and its baggage, it wasn't good news, but it could have been worse. )

I lost my long-term job in February. (I've had some gigs, but nothing long-term or offering coverage.) When the host company switched contractor management providers in 2015, I lost the crappy insurance I'd had through the first contractor management joint. (It would have paid up to $10,000 of something -- which burns through pretty fast if something major happens. I was terrified that something major would happen, and avoided doing anything that would get me diagnosed with a pre-existing condition.) The new contract management joint didn't give health benefits to anyone in their first year. (People with good tech jobs whose workplaces use contract labor: apply pressure to make sure your contractors are taken care of, either individually or by their management companies.)

Since 2015, I've had health coverage through the Affordable Care Act. I was able to sign up after losing the crappy insurance. I picked a plan with good coverage and good reviews, as I was aware that I probably had lurking health issues, and it would finally be safe to treat them. A decade and a half of little to no health care and untreated depression will do a number on you. A decade and a half of consciously avoiding health care to avoid getting a "pre-existing condition" sentence on my record made me avoidant even when I did have coverage, so I wound up avoiding check-ups, avoiding things that would give me poison diagnoses in service of a future when it became a crisis and I would need to be covered. But in 2015, I finally got a diagnosis for my depression. (I should have been diagnosed in 1993. I should have been treated in 1993. I wasn't.) I got some other things diagnosed and treated.

Since my sweetie and I are polyamorous, we're being intentionally careful about our sexual health. On my end, we figured it would be a good idea for me to get some sort of long-acting contraceptive. (My opinions on body-birth for me were well-established; reversible was not a deep concern.) I'd heard that "vaginal bleeding" postcoitally was a sign of cancer, but figured that wasn't me; I had a PCOS diagnosis, and the blood was quite definitely coming from inside the uterus, even if it happened after sex.


So I'm a cancer survivor now.

I'm still paying quite a lot for my insurance. But.
Under the Affordable Care Act, I still get insurance.
Under the Affordable Care Act, if I switch insurers, my pre-existing conditions (cancer, depression, and other things) are still covered.
I don't have to worry about contraception anymore. My cancer ensured that I will never experience pregnancy or body-birth. But the Affordable Care Act would make sure that I could get access to contraception without worrying about the cost.

It's a fluke that I planned on becoming sexually active again this year. It was endometrial cancer gone rogue, so the surface cells of the cervix tested fine. I wasn't due another pap smear for years.

"How do you feel about having saved your partner's life?" a mutual friend asked my sweetie.
My sweetie looked uncomfortable: they didn't feel they'd done that much. Surely it would have been caught and treated, sooner or later.
Without them, it would have been later. Without them, it likely would have been post-ACA. I've seen friends struggle and beg to get live-saving operations that their insurance wouldn't cover. I thought we, as a country, were past that.

I still have conditions that can and will kill me if left untreated. The cancer may also spring up again. My best hope for a long and happy life is if I jump on a symptom immediately, even if I think it may not be a big deal. I'm scheduled for four pelvic exams a year for the next few, and it'll only drop off to yearly at the five year cancer free mark.

If the Affordable Care Act goes away without something better and more protective in place to catch the people who fall through the cracks of work insurance, private insurance, and insurance through a family member, I am likely to become uninsured. I tend to land jobs that put me above the poverty line, so programs intended to help out people in truly dire financial straits don't apply to me. The job that I worked four years and loved gave me utter crap insurance, because they were allowed to. The insurance disappeared after three years, because they were allowed to do that, too. The insurance I'm paying for now, under the Affordable Care Act, is still about 25% of the value of my rent. (Welcome to the San Francisco Bay Area.)

In a future without the ACA, I'm looking at a few possible outcomes:

  • Hope my state continues to think it's a good idea to strongarm insurance companies into covering people like me.

  • Hope my insurance company thinks it's a good idea to keep covering people like me without government intervention. (Ha ha ha. Ha.)

  • Hope that I land a job that thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that I can marry or otherwise become legally partnered with someone whose job thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees and their spouses healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that if there's someone willing to marry me and share their health care (among other reasons, hopefully), that it remains legal for us to marry.

  • Hope that I get a job that offers health care, at all, period. (The place that only offered health benefits after one year, and stopped employing people at the one year mark, that one was hilarious.)

  • Hope that I can continue to access all of my current medications.

  • Hope that I can continue to access the medications that keep me from dying painfully within the next 2-5 years, and the medications that keep my depression a temporary and treated problem rather than a likely permanent and lethal one. (Again, this is the first year since age 13 or so that I have felt that I'm no worse a suicide risk than any other member of the population without chronic depression.)

  • Hope I don't get sick. Hope the depression doesn't flare up. Hope the ADD lets me focus well enough to hold down a job. Hope I find a job that works with my sleep schedule, rather than against it. Hope the sleep schedule lets me hold down any job, period. Hope that any minor illnesses I get don't jeopardize my job. (Fun fact for those who have never worked a service-industry type job: you find yourself going to work contagious and miserable because you've got to save the sick leave for when you genuinely cannot function or need a doctor's appointment during your normal hours of work. A doctor's note for a multiple-day illness has you spending a day's pay on a doctor visit co-pay or urgent care fee, and the first day of absence may hit your attendance record anyway. Or, if you're a disposable temp, they'll just drop you, because they only care about you not being contagious in their office and they need someone to do the work.)

  • Hope my family doesn't bankrupt themselves trying to keep me alive if I get badly sick.

  • Die, maybe. Probably painfully, with the added indignity of trying to navigate a bureaucratic hell while doing so.

Every one of those options fills me with terror. Bad psychological stuff, and news of the sudden death of a member of my extended circles. )

I'm not okay right now. I've been crying off and on yesterday and today. I am afraid, and I don't know how much the protective bureaucracies that surround the executive branch will be able to shield health care access and workers' rights from the predation of cheap-labor conservatives and the gig economy.

I know I have it much, much better than many. I have a protective and loving family who will try to do what they can to keep me covered and alive. I live in a state that generally wants to take care of its people even when they do it bassackward. I am destined for a state that's of similar opinions.

I am lucky. And I'm terrified.
azurelunatic: part of a triangle filled with alternately black and red hearts, increasingly smaller in a sierpinski triangle pattern (matesprit)
To whom it may concern:

Yes, my Gentle Callersecurity: filtered is in a polyamorous/open relationship with me, started 5 September 2016. I am theirs and they are mine, as long as we both wish it. We are expected to see to our own safety first, before taking care of each other.

I am an autonomous adult who can make my own decisions about what to do with my body, time, and attention, including shared orgasms and other sexual contact and kissing. My Gentle Caller is likewise an autonomous adult. Sexual and romantic exclusivity has never been a part of this relationship.

I expect that any partner of my Gentle Caller's will treat them with an appropriate amount of respect, courtesy, and kindness. My Gentle Caller expects this of any partner of mine. We expect the use of barrier methods, with other partners and with each other. Read more... )

My tweets

Sep. 23rd, 2016 12:01 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)

My tweets

Sep. 7th, 2016 12:01 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )

My tweets

Sep. 6th, 2016 12:01 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: A striking pink and yellow hibiscus blossom. (hibiscus)
When your friends can look at something that's going on, and go "uh friend. FRIEND. This current thing. If it becomes a pattern, that's going to be a problem later on."

And you go "... uh. Oh. Crap. Yeah. Thanks. Shit." and then you busily get about the business of making it not be a pattern.

In related news: I am certainly not my worst enemy. Nor am I their direct opposite. And I should stop compulsively contrasting myself with them, except as contrasting myself with them is helpful. Which it won't always be. In fact, it might not often be. I'll need to check with the other stakeholders.
azurelunatic: Dying Spock saluting Kirk through heavy glass.  (spock)
This is a very brief update that is deliberately light on details. Further information is probably not forthcoming in public. (If you want the story, try in person with coffee or tea; bourbon's not necessary.)

Very recently, someone I have known and I tried dating, to see if it could work. Upon further discussion, we have broken up, but remain better friends than when we started.

Mostly, this is to serve as notification that the matrix "my ex", having remained stable with [personal profile] sithjawa at the top of the stack, has been expanded; references to "my ex" with very un-[personal profile] sithjawa-like attributes are ... rather less likely to be [personal profile] sithjawa.
azurelunatic: funny t-shirt: "I am a bomb technician: if you see me running, try to keep up." (bomb tech)
In the past 8-ish years, there were a few Dudes Hitting On Me In Ways That I Did Not Appreciate moments.

There was the guy who seemed affable but vaguely sleazy, seemed to think that throwing money at situations was the best way to help what he wanted to happen to happen, and had a very quiet girlfriend whose round stainless steel necklace's clasp took a hex key. "I like your necklace," I said quietly, and she looked surprised and then colored.

He seemed to be flirting with me; I was flattered but sort of ignored it, since I wasn't into him that way, and he already had a partner. He pestered me for my legal name so he could add me on Facebook. I said that I didn't answer to that, really, but he persisted and I gave it to him. "Oh, you're right, you're really not a [birthname]," he said.

Later, he would contact me, calling me by my birthname, telling me that he'd broken up with his sub and he wanted me to come over, dress up in a maid costume, and help him ... move? clean? something.

I was not enthused. I believe that was around when I blocked him. There were just all these little sub-threshold things, adding up to the idea that I didn't want or need to be around him, and I owed him exactly zero.

There was the guy who came into IRC all excited about having Finally Found His Tribe, who hardcore pinged the alarms of one of the guys. Cut for details. )

There was the Creepy Note Leaver at work. Two days in close succession, I got a post-it with the same bad handwriting left on my cube at work. My Overlady was appalled. I was appalled. My manager was appalled. I took down the schedule I was keeping for when I was expected in next, and I found a place to hide a motion-activated webcam in the forestry of office supplies near my monitor.

No third note was left.

There was the Creepy Security Guard at work. He'd drop by and say hello, and I thought he was sweet *but*. There was just this little edge that said he was interested, and it was not something that I really wanted. As long as he wasn't mentioning it, though, I was okay pretending to not notice. Read more... )

What are the odds of him pulling that one? Unknown. But [list of friends] did not beat the odds. What makes me think I am different or safe? What is his capacity for harm, should he decide to execute it? Substantial.

I chose to avoid being alone with him as much as possible.

There was the night janitor at work, who was very sweet and I did not feel threatened but it seemed awkward as hell.

That was shortly before my contract ended. I worked on my timing, in not being excessively available. Then I was gone.
azurelunatic: A pajama-clad small child uses a rainbow-striped cruciform parachute. From illustration of "Go the Fuck to Sleep". (go the fuck to sleep)
It was the traditional dinner with Purple tonight. This is the day when I was expecting to definitely see Purple after vacation, if there'd been no other opportunity. There turned out to be a beer bash, but at short enough notice to Purple that it was too late to invite me. So we did dinner; Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly is out this week. Despite getting lost (got off at the wrong exit), I got there a split second before Purple, and then scored a table while he was getting through the truckfuck in the parking lot.

We talked about many things. The main thing on my mind lately has been a kind of heavy topic, and Purple is always a delightful combination of helpful, thoughtful, calling me on any bullshit he notices, supportive, and irreverently hilarious. We also discussed: the amount of work and/or luck it takes to get a suitable counseling professional; the parameters of "bro"; the difference between one-off objectification of men and the commodified objectification of women; toxic masculinity; the angry and terrible divorces of about 4 different guys in R's working group; marriage-related name change and how "Lunatic" might be a perfectly okay driver's license name but not a resume name; role inflexibility in formal power exchange; Purple's applied-ferret-in-packing-peanuts approach to pissing off Domly McDom types trying to establish control over social groups; that time Purple made the guy with the obnoxiously big dick leave a chatroom by agreeing with him; there certainly must have been other topics also ...

Purple started chirping me about my general liking for burying my face into his shirt and hiding under his arm, and pointed out that really, he was only six foot so it was a little awkward... When I accused him of chirping me, I had to explain that it was a term of art from hockey and not related to chickens, so therefore in this context it was a really bad pun.

Occasionally Purple is the Good Example.

Case in point: I have not in fact been counting the number of times that Purple has said something that would have made me back slowly off from an acquaintance or non-friend. It's happened. The fact that I'm not able to count is a good thing. If I were counting, it would be a count-up to some sort of unknowable explosion or ending. Instead, each moment is a new beginning.

Read more... )

I have not been counting the number of times I have realized that Purple is (still) more trusted than oxygen, more precious than emeralds, and done this delicate dance. Each time we are successful in navigating the issue, balancing our perspectives, and helping each other see it more clearly, he implicitly affirms that I have made the correct decision in extending the hand of friendship. I never wish to risk losing him over a misunderstanding.

We keep fucking up with each other. We keep talking it out. Occasionally, very rarely, we emerge with a fragile shell of a shattered trust and a bit of a scuff mark, and we're quietly defensive until the friendship draws us back in again. More often, we emerge closer to each other, closer at understanding our wide and weird world a little better as well.

On balance, it's worth it.

By the end of the night, my glitter eyeshadow had migrated down my face and neck all the way to my tits. Purple was amused.

We weren't meaning to, because we were both tired, but Purple and I stood out talking together for quite a while. He is amused by the state my brain's been in. I told him at least part of the story which ends with me raising a sparklepeen inspired by Twilight in the air and shouting "FREEDOM!" and then clinking it with a glass of booze in a toast.

Purple probably won't make it to the Seanan party tomorrow, or the Charlie Stross event Sunday; he's got some reading to do for the HOA meeting on Tuesday. Therefore dinner will probably be Wednesday, if it happens.

Some of Purple's hair got stuck on my lip gloss when we hugged goodnight. Apparently I should not lick his hair in the current state it's in -- sadly there have been water disruptions to his place which prevented proper shampooing.

Speaking of lip gloss, I think some exploded in my jacket pocket. This is going to be fun... I had put my hand in my pocket for some reason, and then realized that things in there felt ... unaccountably sticky. I withdrew my hand and rubbed fingers against each other, then reached back in. Yup, sticky, all right. I pulled my hand out and examined my fingers, which glistened in the dim street lamps and under the moon.

"What is that?" Purple asked.
"I think it's lip gloss."

It didn't appear to be colored, so I eventually reckoned that it must have been the transparent one with all the little iridescent glitter in it. Yay, cosmetic emergencies...

Something really hard to put my finger on has shifted in the dynamic between Purple and me, since he came back from vacation, and I'm enjoying it. I'm more at ease in his presence, more willing to be vulnerable, and delighted to tell more crass jokes of the type that make us both bust up laughing. Though occasionally they result in me turning beet red and facepalming repeatedly.

I've definitely been doing more Tarot readings lately. I should probably brush up and start carrying my deck more regularly. (I will probably keep saying this every day that I participate in a reading without having my own deck near to hand.)
azurelunatic: panic button.  (panic)
The drive home from Portland was long but not unpleasant. I keep running into places where I compare my current state of health to last year's, and being terrified in retrospect. Last year I'd been exhausted and really not up to it, and had needed to stop at a rest stop in order to get a nap. I got home around 6am. This time I was able to take the last leg in a pretty solid go, though I probably could have stopped off for one last little break somewhere before going through the edges of the Bay Area and arriving home. I got home before 1am, having left around the same time in the morning, maybe a little later.

It's always a change to get back home from the bright and convivial atmosphere of Open Source Bridge and into one's regular life. Additionally, my life's been more quiet of late, as the job search wears on.

Purple arrived back in the Bay Area not all that much longer after I did -- he was back online Tuesday, albeit distinctly jet-lagged. I cornered him for dinner on Wednesday, and we caught up. He'd gone to a music conference and then visited his folks. The music conference had been fun, and apparently his dad has mellowed some. Also, Ohio has hard water. And I like what he's done with his hair.

One of the conversations I'd had at Open Source Bridge, with [personal profile] quartzpebble over an unexpectedly heavy tarot reading, has pointed out that while I have spent 10+ years actively unraveling harms caused to me by some of the more destructive machinations of my terrible ex Shawn, that Shawn is not the only force for chaos and destruction who I dated. (I have, for many years, debated the legitimacy of claiming the "ex-boyfriend" title for Shawn -- after all, Shawn refused to formalize our relationship and did not acknowledge me as a lover. Purple, whom I trust beyond oxygen -- tricky stuff, that oxygen -- has made it clear that if no one else does, he considers Shawn an ex-boyfriend of mine. So he is named and labeled.) After Shawn there was River: River the uncomplicated, River the sweet, River of the raging non-24-hour sleep cycle, River the devastatingly handsome. And then there was BJ. I ruined my relationship with River due to kissing BJ on one of those devastatingly compulsive whims where you sort of hate yourself for what you're doing, but you keep doing it anyway because there's something so fascinating about it. BJ was terrible.

I sum up my relationship with BJ pretty much like so, usually: "So there are my major exes from that era, Shawn and BJ. [some really horrifying detail about Shawn.] Shawn's the one I'm still willing to talk to."

Shawn wanted to create amazing art and be famous and loved for it, and he was willing to subsume me and my talents into his resource pool in pursuit of that art. And if I suffered for it -- well, that was the price one had to pay, wasn't it? To suffer, while art was made?

BJ needed to own my soul.

This manifested in the tiniest, creepingest of ways. Abusive as hell dynamics. )

This is why I've avoided Christians.
This is why I've avoided the kink scene.
This is why I won't share a login account, and anyone who fucks with my computer gets frozen out.
This is why men who say "friendzone" are declaring themselves an enemy.

There were little twitches I developed as a result of my time with BJ. I couldn't name all of them now, but when I see enough of them in one place I start to freeze up again, and my heart crystallizes with terror. Read more... )

You cannot fix a relationship where someone wants to own your soul.
azurelunatic: Cordless phone showing a heart.  (phone)
10:09 PM 8/22/2010
Josh offered to have the Johns' children, hollered from our Ewok perch. "Mpreg?" I asked.
Josh has short hair now! Not the shortest ever, but conventional-male short. I asked; it wasn't a can of worms, just one of those time-for-a-change things.

Josh and JD both know @tiger -- JD from college, Josh because they're roommates.

7:05 PM 8/23/2010
The troll next door seems to no longer be there. This is the second one who was involved in a screaming fight with his girlfriend, the fellow who would often be out smoking at late hours when I was either venturing forth or coming home from social events or shopping. I refer to him as a troll because when we were chatting once about what we did, he mentioned (apropos of me mentioning that I did Online Stuff) that he was not much of an internet person, but he would occasionally (for entertainment) go and start shit on random message boards. Thus, troll next door.

I know he's no longer there because the door was open and they were ripping up the floor.

8:19 PM 8/24/2010
It's been a bit hot in the Bay Area.

11:08 PM 8/24/2010
How is it that I've never encountered this song before?

Read more... )

6:35 AM 8/29/2010
Apropos of the Eternal Chat, I am reminded that I've got a few rather strict values about relationships.

If you're in a long-term relationship, you should be able to either trust that the other party in the relationship will not cheat on you, or that if the other party in the relationship is having happysexyfuntimes outside the relationship, that they are going to come back to you. (Also included in that last: having your permission to be doing that.) If you cannot trust them this far, why are you in a relationship with them, anyway?

Related: the trope that all friendships or acquaintanceships between people of compatible sexual preference are inherently fucking waiting to happen, is really messed up. Really amazingly messed up.

I have sketched up the approximate problem with my cellphone reception.
Three concrete bunkers of buildings with their bottom storeys set into the side of a descending hill. At the top of the hill, cellphone towers. At the bottom of the hill, ocean. Cellphone signal shadows shown inside and behind the buildings, and below the cliff, on the ocean/downhill side of the buildings. An unhappy blue star representing Azz is in the second (ground level) floor of the middle building on the uphill side, with not much signal at all. Sole window: uphill side. Concrete with rebar. Fun times.

10:03 AM 8/29/2010
I ... may be unaccustomed to caffeine again. On the bright side, I have re-located my St. John's Wort bottle.

I think I've also figured out some of my problems with People. If I've slept enough, I love the whole world. If I've not slept enough, I'm a complete misanthrope.

Also, my aunts think Dad's depression is a side effect of OCD, which actually slots in really really well with one of the things I've learned about mine. I wind up in a lovely hate spiral where all the major things I've done wrong in X number of years will circle around in my head and remind me how much I suck. At least I don't think anything from elementary school is in the hate parade, but stuff from high school still is. And when I'm on meds, I can break out of it in a way I can't when I'm not.

Also it is entirely possibly time for a round of anger mismanagement classes (apropos of a friend's horrifying experience with an unexpected evangelist who got too inappropriately attached too soon) involving shrieking, stomping, hitting people with one's cane, fleeing vigorously, and avoiding being alone with anyone who makes one feel dodgy, even otherwise friends.


azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

April 2019

78910 111213

Most Popular Tags


RSS Atom

Style Credit

Page generated Apr. 22nd, 2019 07:08 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios