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Whoa dude.

I had a full out thing planned but it flew out of my head when I saw something today.

Dissidia is ten years old.

Ten.

Like...how'd that happen? Seriously, how'd that happen? Where did the time go? How has it been this long already?

Damn, I feel old.

No sleep til…

The week has been something else. Job hunting, storms, and a phone interview that I cannot tell was good or not. The tone seems to have been a good interview, but I have never been good at telling tone without seeing a face conclusively—it is always a guess for me. That is an irony for me, since I can remotely read someone's cards with remarkable ease.

This week has also brought some surprising news: I'm down a pants size. Whether this is because I've been forced to eat less or because I've been drinking more tea, it's…interesting. It ceretainly busted my (what I now realize was rather outlandish) theory that I had done the laundry wrong at some point and had stretched my good pair of jeans.

If I'm being honest, tea and tarot have been the reliable comforts in this time of struggle. I can brew a hot cup and sip before a meditative reading at night after a day of trudging around finding out that the places I was going only take online applications now. The hot drink makes everything fall away, makes it feel for one second that everything is going to be okay, for just one second. It's not like I can say that it takes me back to a time before—my past was a fraught one, even though it was in that past that I discovered my love of tea. No, a drink of tea brings me uniquely into the moment, so that nothing exists but that moment, and the sip that exist in it. In a similar vein, tarot brings me into a mindfulness that makes me focus on both the now and what I have to do next, so that I don't get trapped in the spiral of unending what-ifs that my brain is prone to sending me into. It's a trick I learned early into experimenting with my faith and while it's not for everyone, it works for me.

It's late. Well, if I want to get technical, it's pretty early for me—lately I go to bed at four in the morning, and it's barely one in the morning. But, my tea is getting cold waiting for me, and my cards are waiting for my nightly meditation.

So, good night…

The Trudge

As each day passes without a hit on the job search, I wonder. How am I going to pay the bills, how am I going to survive.

How I’m going to deal with this situation.

The canning happened directly in response to a situation that my landlords caused: they didn’t take care of the problem right away and as a result my job was offed.

I wonder if I have a case.

I wonder if I can do something.

I wonder, and then I trudge out the door again looking for places that have paper applications, with a notebook so that I can write down the names of the places that don’t and so I can go to the websites of the others later on at the end of the day.

I'm in trouble here…

Ok, guys — I'll keep it short and simple: I need ***$180*** by the 21st or my power gets shut off and I lose my apartment. The landlords are dragging their feet on the thing that'll get me working again (the assessment was supposed to be yesterday) and I am desperate. I'm not even worried about eating right now, I'll take care of that when the lights are done.

If you can help me out the usual place is [here](https://www.paypal.me/CyggieStardust). If you can't, — boost the fricklefrackle outta this. I'm in serious trouble.

As usual, thank you so much.

Yikes. This is getting old.

 Today, I was found.

I have been working hard on certain people not finding me. I even set up my facebook profile, from the beginning, to make me impossible to find unless you knew who you were looking for in the first place.

And yet, my cousin has found me.


I set up my dodge using one of my favorite handles, and intentionally did not let a lot of people know it was me. The people who found me were obviously looking for me specifically, and that was fine with me.

Until, somehow, my cousin found me.

Well...not 'somehow.' She used an aunt's phone. Or my aunt left it unattended.

I'm dodging her for a reason. Quite a while back, under the impression that it would be a good idea, I hired her to help me straighten up my apartment. She brought with her a pair of strange men (not both at once), one of whom got angry at her for some unknown reason and decided to march into my apartment, and threaten my life.

I blocked her out of a sense of self-preservation.

On the upside, she doesn't seem to realize that she's been blocked. I was very relieved to discover that there was no pending friend request.

I should be fine unless she catches on...

WRITING AT THREE O CLOCK IN THE MORNING

yes I should be sleeping.

I pounded 650 words in a half hour, until my meds kicked in.

The story sings, and is easily restarted on the pull of a card. But I have errands to run in the morning, and sleep has to happen. This time, it might. I'll probably make myself some silly motivational poster for the project.

...I can barely keep my eyes open, but I'm excited. I'm officially very glad my most recent reading for myself basically translated into Shia LaBoeuf's "JUST DO IT" speech. Now, to calibrate my white noise app and sleep...
 The Japanese voice effects are there

Vivi is in it

Zidane is in it

Vivi is in it

It's got an addictive, satisfying battle system 

Vivi is in it

Did I mention Vivi is in it

"Be you, but less"

Tiffany Haddish is in recent news . She is getting flak just for being herself, for things that, if a white person were to do, would be considered “quirky” or “offbeat.” To put it plainly, if someone like Jennifer Lawrence did it people would be all over it. “Oh my God, she's just like us!” they would say.


But in this case, there are whispers of her being “too black.”


Reading this makes me wonder if people ever think that about me.


Haddish is a big personality, in a good way. She refuses to sell out, to "tone it down." It's a level of confidence that I wish I had. It reminds me of certain exes, who would in one situation celebrate my personality and in the next, tell me to “tone it down.”


And I never really understood what they meant by “tone it down.” I wasn't doing anything extra, and I wasn't putting on an act (that I knew of). On some days even my compulsive fidget was under control (…mostly. Burying that makes my muscles itch). But if I asked, the answer would invariably boil down to “You, but less of it.”


This is the attitude that people want from Haddish and other carefree Black folx. “You, but less.”


Haddish refused to bow to this. I'm still working on that kind of strength. In a world that wants me to be less, I just want to be.

Lashed.

I still have flashbacks to the day I woke up, in my stepmother’s house, to the accusations of theft from the pantry. I was wasting away at the time, a dangerous ninety something pounds. My stepsiblings were getting plumper and plumper. I was whipped with a belt in the laundry room while forced to hold the hanging bar, dissociation keeping me from giving that woman the satisfaction of a vivid pain reaction.

Every time I am around her, I remember this day.

I haven’t trusted her completely since that day.

Even on the days when we partake, a faint part of my mind remembers it. It’s engraved in my mind. When I’m around her, my guard just stays up.

It’s in the front of my mind because the anniversary of the beating is coming—

My birthday.

That’s right. I was lashed like a thief on my birthday.

The thoughts are…intrusive. I’m trying to get rid of them. It’s not working.

I can feel the impact points on my back, still.

I'm alive! But...

Things have ineed gotten dicey.

My rent, for one, is going up. Like...way up. It's never been this high $270. And food money is going to be tough. I lost my stamps. I'm going to fight that of course, because I need to eat. And my health...hoo boy, do I have stories to tell.

My family--oh boy, when I have the spoons, there are stories to tell about that, too.

The apartment--boy I tell you, the new stories about that!

I'm going to have to get new hustles.

But the good news is, I ain't dead.

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