creating and creation

All things made by hand…

“That was definitely a thing that happened.”

So much has happened. So much. I thought things would untangle over September; they really didn’t. They tangled further. So dot points, because I can hardly think in a straight line.

Let’s start with the medical shite.

  • the cancer scare has been downgraded to “if the next exams come up clear, you’re all good!”, which I am endlessly, crazily, gloriously grateful for. Not just for my own sake, but for everyone who was worried about me. (Apparently my Dad took it very hard; I feel horribly guilty about that, which is stupid and I know it, but…there it is. :/)
  • we have an answer to all the symptoms: ME/CFS. (Sod the CFS, actually, I’m just using “ME” because that’s what it was originally called, and is far more accurate a term.) I have myalgic encephalomyelitis. I’ve probably had it since I had COVID the first time.
  • this means that all my future plans — turning my life around and becoming a doula+midwife, which I was so serious about I cut eight inches off my hair to mark, y’know, a decision made seriously and happily and with hope — are now in the bin. I don’t have a big enough ‘energy envelope’ to go back to university studies. Any of them.
  • I’m going over everything I do on the daily to try and get better at knowing where my limits are, what triggers things, what helps, what hinders, etc etc etc. It’s important, and knowledge is power, bluh bluh bluh, but it’s just…so frustrating and trying to condition myself into basically stalking myself is unfun. Yeah. Unfun. And saddening.

Emotional shite.

  • It’s really fucking difficult to cope with people you admire and dare I say, love, associating with people who purposefully went out of their way to hurt you, for god alone knows what reason. (Clout, I guess.)  But I’m not like She Who Must Not Be Named; I don’t dictate who my friends can and can’t be friends with. It just…hurts. To see layouts by someone and links to someone who didn’t even have enough honour in them to come directly to me with their problem, but instead spread it all over a certain forum. Lying.
  • Sometimes I just wish I’d never started making fanlistings whatsoever. I’ve quit absolutely now, and quite frankly find a lot of the staff members outright dismissive of problems I brought to them, in good faith. I am done with the vileness that is T(A)FL; but I just wish I’d never started, back in ’16. The community is a pit of vipers.
  • I just realised; fanlistings in general are probably one of the things that exacerbate my ME symptoms (because yes, emotional and mental turbulence also sucks up your energy).

And we’ll end with the far more palatable Things That DON’T Suck!

  • Our local pale-headed rosella couple have decided to start nesting…in my brushtail possum’s box. Poor Eustace has been essentially evicted from his former home and Helyanwion and Vilyaranel have moved in. Eustace essentially shrugged his shoulders, and just moved “over the road” to the first possum box. Bothered? Nah mate, that takes too much energy. XD
  • It’s absolutely delightful to watch the rosella couple go in and out of their new nest, peeking outside when a sound worries them a bit too much or just out of curiosity. I think Vinyaranel has already laid eggs, or is going to very very soon. ♥
  • Recipes for my family that have the tick of approval: Mum’s Teacupcakes, and mulberry muffins. Also, Dad declared that my peanut butter fudge is better than his favourite lollies. I just about passed out. Gonna have to do a pantry restock very soon…and pick more mulberries!
  • I’ve almost perfected my microwave cinder toffee. Almost. And semi-successfully made a cake-in-a-mug into really tiny cupcakes! No idea where I found those tiny little muffin papers, but hey!
  • Started beta-testing a cute game called EverGrove Idle: Grow Magic. It’s just your regular sort of idle game, I think, but…I’m kind of in love with a couple of the characters already? The visual-novel romance part of the narrative unrolls as your reach certain levels, and I’m just like…(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄  when can I ask Seren to marry me she is my silver sparkling star she is EVERYTHING?! And can I kiss the Warden if only to see him smile? fdjskalfdja;j
  • Playing all the Tsuki games now, but still loving Odyssey the best. I’ve unlocked the area between Momo’s teahouse and Bobo’s ramen cart, FINALLY! First thing I did was put up a row of very bushy trees between the two, plopped a waterfall beside Bobo’s cart (ambience, y’know?), and as a sign of trying to keep the peace…we have a Peace Lemon tree. It belongs to both of them — because lemon is a common tea accompaniment, and Frith alone knows what Bobo puts in his weirder creations, so. They both share the fruit of the tree and try to get along, as far apart as possible and with a line of greenery between them. XD Sigh. I wish I could create a bedroom for Pipi, or put more elegant things in Scarlett’s loft…(I need to do a whole stupid post about Tsuki nonsense, don’t I? XD)
  • pondering starting up a new Stardew Valley game, seeing as there’s going to be a lot of sitting around and stuffing energy into an envelope desperately in my future.

Murasaki Shikibu was wa-la-wa~, change my mind. Not sure where to put that, so it’s here, and also, you’ll never change my mind. ♥

a tale of stranger fortunes

I am never, ever speaking about the weather, my mental health, my physical health, productivity, and level of creativity if any of those things are good ever again, because I just jinxed the living flip out of myself on all those levels, and then some. It’s miserably humid and rainy, I’m Extremely Sad™, my back is so painful that I literally cannot stand up for more than five minutes at a time, I have completed nothing since the sixth because of all those reasons, including my mother’s Mother’s Day gifts, which makes me feel like the biggest ass on the planet, and the most creative thing I’ve done lately is make two origami cranes.

Hopefully saying this is like…anti-jinxing myself and things will start looking up tomorrow. Or the day after, I don’t care. Can we at least do away with this BS back pain nonsense? Please?

Only good thing that’s happened: my brother broke up with his abuser. BIG YES. I mean, I doubt he’s escaped her hideous, nasty, malicious, manipulative little claws forever, but…who knows. We can always hope. I’m not happy that he’s alone, I’m happy that his abuser will now hopefully leave him alone…for a few weeks, at least. Vile cow. (Not sorry; I refuse to extend any respect towards that creature. I am sick to death of her, and people like her. I do not apologise.)

We have a new Pope! Or, er, I guess the Catholics do? I’m not quite sure whether the Pope is everybody’s big Catholic or just the Catholics’ big Catholic. Either way, he seems like quite a nice fellow, and he’s anti-MAGA (or as close as a holy person ever gets to being “anti-” something…again, the semantics!), so fingers crossed. It’s always just nice to have good folks in powerful positions.

(I also learned that the Room of Tears is literally called that because so many Popes end up weeping there, for many reasons. I don’t know why, exactly, but I did find that strangely touching.)

I’ve been deliciously devouring the McKinney translation of Shounagon-oneesama’s Pillow Book and have gotten to the parts I never reached before in my original interrupted reads, and…siiiiigh. ♥ She’s just…SO delightful. Ito wokashi, even. ^_~  I deeply enjoy Dr. McKinney’s translation “voice”, and I love that she chose to translate so much more of the text (or texts, to be precise — there are four main variants of the original text; the one that Dr. McKinney uses for the most part is the “Sankanbon”, considered one of the most accurate variants) than Ivan Morris did, and much, much more than Arthur Waley — not that I dislike either of their translations, mind you! Dr. Waley’s writing was poetic and beautiful, and I’ll always have a soft spot for Professor Morris’ translation, because it was so obvious in his translation and footnotes that he admired Shounagon, if not being outright fond of her — and it’s presumptuous of me, but I honestly have a silly dreamy thought that Shounagon would have been rather fond of him, as well.

And I’m so full of thoughts about Shounagon’s Empress…she seemed like such a sweet soul, and the love between her and the Emperor seemed so genuine. Plus, how close and happy her family was, and it was so obvious that Regent Michitaka was so, so proud of her — of all of his children — and he expressed himself in such a jolly, honest, playful way…it’s heartbreaking to think of how it all ended. I was planning to read A Tale of False Fortunes when I finish The Pillow Book (or even before), but I’m not sure how much more sadness I can take! Ah, poor Sadako…if only you could have had your fairytale ending in that life. ;_; 24 years is far too young to die, and far too young to shoulder all that tragedy all alone…aaahhh, I’ll have to change the subject or I’ll start crying!

Apropos of Japanese translations and whatnot: why do letters with a macron (ō, etc) look so ridiculously ugly in some fonts? Either the letter itself is weirdly bolder than a macron-less letter, or the macron itself isn’t aligned with the letter below it…it’s so frustrating! And let’s not even mention that ō itself doesn’t appear to have an ALT code that actually works? I suppose I can use a circumflex o (ô…ALT+0244, for the record) in a pinch, but using a macron for long vowels in Japanese transliteration is the universal standard, so why is it so ridiculously tricky to utilise?! ><;

glorious days.

I won’t say things are looking up, because I don’t know if they are; furthermore, I don’t want to jinx anything. What I do know is that the past five days have been wonderful.

Autumn has finally arrived — with a weird, almost finger-snap swiftness on Samhain! Honestly, it was just like someone flicked the horrific humidity and high 20s off on May 1st, and it’s been hanging around 24ºC with deal-with-able humidity levels, only very short rain showers, and night temperatures dipping down to 15º ever since! It’s absolutely weird, but I’m not complaining at all — it’s absolutely gorgeous. Over the past few days, the wind’s even picked up and is charmingly gusty. It’s as if the weather gods are rewarding us for a hideous, waterlogged summer. I’m so grateful to be able to snuggle up in lovely warm blankets at night, and be able to open all my windows and just sit during the day without dissolving into a puddle of sweat. This sort of weather is always worth waiting for, and always so beautiful in Queensland. ♥

The election was on the 3rd; I did my civic duty on the 2nd. I was 50/50ish on the results…and on the day I just dissolved into a flurry of anxiety and tears; I was so sure that Temu Trump was going to take power and the majority of the country wouldn’t see how vile he actually is — and I’ve lived in his electorate for fifteen years. He’s done NOTHING for Dickson (maybe we should be grateful for that), but he wasn’t going to do nothing to the country, what with all this BSing about gutting Medicare, nuclear power, and more and more…my family would have suffered greatly under Dutton in normal circumstances, but what with what the actual orange fascist is doing to the world’s economy at the moment? Hand on my heart, I honestly think that Australia would not survive it under a Liberal treasury. (Who made it so we completely and utterly avoided the GFC? Yeah, exactly.)

But, as I’m sure everyone knows, we won’t have to after all! The red landslide shocked the living hell out of me. The fact that the election was called for Labor only an hour after the polls closed in WA was also jaw-dropping. I was not expecting that — I don’t think anyone was. (Dutton certainly wasn’t!) I’m so relieved there aren’t really any words for it. And I’m so, so delighted and proud that I got to vote Dutton out of my electorate as well as deny him the chance to ruin the country. Ali France for the win! It’s glorious, just glorious.

The relief still outweighs the admittedly childish schadenfreude, though, which should say everything. Thank goodness for small, surprising mercies…

(Big spiel about how my political opinions and convictions actually align more precisely with the Greens than Labor, truthfully, but my annoyance with the Greens as a party means I don’t align myself on paper with them goes here. Pretend I actually wrote it. 😛 Or, you know, FriendlyJordies can do it for me. Videowise.)

I’ve been busy offline over the past few days. The cottage is still unfinished, but it’s far more than just a storage shed, now — I’ve set up so many things, like full bookshelves, my bed, my sofas, and a desk. Courtesy of my Dad, I even have a portable camping toilet (complete with privacy tent!) and a proper light hanging from the ceiling — having rafters can be very very handy, it turns out! I have some actual curtains hung up with strong magnets, big paper clamps, clothes pegs, and a little MacGuyvering on my end (what can you do with pride flags, paperclips, old bedsheets, and a ball of strong twine? Window coverings! ^_~). It’s actually a lovely little place to spend time in, now — I nap in there, sew and crochet, write, and who knows? I might even set my computer up in there, if my power source can cover it.

I would, ideally, like an actual house — I’d like the cottage to be finished. But the cold hard truth is that I don’t have the money to do that at the moment, nor am I in a financial position to start saving to do so. But I’m not wasting what I actually have. So I’m using it. Is it a weird setup? Yes. Do I care that it is? Not particularly, if I really think about it. It’s safe, dry, holds all my earthly goods, and keeps my cat safe. All else can come later, perhaps.

“The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”

I’m working on a lot of sewing projects, at the moment — turning a beloved old pillowcase and some old satin pajamas into a sashiko quilt, sewing the cut off seams from said pajamas onto a square of aida cloth to create a textured A5-size document wallet, and quite possibly using the larger non-quilt patches of satin for some kind of boro project…either a bag, or maybe tart up my poor old oversized and now rather threadbare jeans jacket that I got when I was 17. Boro on denim always looks wicked cool, so I’m leaning towards that one. Plus, said patches are pink and purple, and I’ve got some gorgeous variegated pink/white/purple sashiko threads…yeah. I think I’ll do that ♥

think of it as a world without end

I finished “The Fairy Tale Museum” by Susannah M. Smith, and I have no words for it. As I said on the bird hellsite, that wasn’t a book, that was an experience. I can’t explain it to anyone; you’ll have to experience it for yourself. So have some words from it, instead, to tempt you to do so:

“What are you doing, little fox?
With a sideways glance and a flick of its tail, the fox might answer, I am in the thicket, now and always. I am the jewel in the obscurity.”

“People say it’s about the journey, not the destination. Dialectical thinking has its limitations.”

“Same moon. Different birds. How is it that libraries are so beautiful? The square at night. Narrow streets behind the cathedral. Books in different languages. You get lost. You find your way.”

“I felt the whispers of thousands of stories pushing up against me.”

“Things are not as you have been taught.
What you thought was blood was a metaphor for vital energy.
What you thought was scary was simply important.
What felt haunting only wanted you to be present.
Your instincts have brought you here.
Nothing is broken that cannot be repaired.
Remember who you are.”

“I don’t want to live without the sparklers, the brightness. Without that feeling of lying flat on the ground, pressed down with barely any blood or breathing and barely even any bones. What good is living without that? Only TV and TV and TV.”

“She can feel the future with all its colours.”

“Use your imagination. Wear your crown on the inside.”

“As if there had never been any reason for unhappiness.
As if all you had to do was believe in what you wanted
and it would happen.”

“Is the castle off in the distance,
or is it just behind your sternum?”

“When I’m awake during the night I use whatever scrap of paper is nearby. I write words, scribble, and jot. I burn holes. I take whatever comes. I trust my unconscious. There are always coloured pencils and pens and boxes of matches in the cupboard beside my bed. I am never without my supplies.”

“Is surrealism unfashionable? Is psychological inquiry embarrassing? I don’t care. I don’t pay attention to trends. I do exactly as I please.”

“He sees the bushes at the edge of the field and senses the blue fox in the underbrush. Its silken body glitters with jewels, hidden at the edge of the park.”

“A voice in his head tells him: You’re building a city. Each poem is a spire. The spires cluster together. Soon bells will ring. He smiles. Knowing that the blue fox is out there winking in the dark brings him happiness.”

“…all those damn rock stars with their dreamy poet eyes and tattoos.”

“Sometimes when you live by yourself, you need a bit of company; you need to make something out of nothing to know you exist.”

“Listen here. Yes, you. Don’t sleep with a clock radio beside your bed. It isn’t good for your electrical field. Same goes for the cellphone. You may scoff, but I still dream my own dreams. Do you?”

“A diamond. His heart was that hard. And yet, it shines in him. He can feel it.”

“If a star shines in the forest and no one is there to see it, is there any coruscation?”

“She was everything good about me that I hadn’t yet become.”

“She drew lingering looks from men and women she passed in the streets. She was like that. A rare thing from another world.”

“I’m almost who I want to be.”

“You’d been let go for dreaminess and are out on a mid-afternoon lark. Sometimes a person’s got to put the stars back in her eyes.”

“You stand in the doorway on the edge of the night. The edge of your excursion. You wait until the pathway is deserted and then, with a sudden decisive movement, you turn up your collar and move forward into the glow.”

“This is where everything happens. This is where worlds unfold. You settle in, turn your face to the screen, and close your eyes.”

“I’ve held you in my mind as I’ve skated through multitudes, as I’ve gathered all these specimens and turned them slowly in the light.”

 

keeping back the flood

There are so many worlds and so many words inside me, but getting them out is like trying to get water from the moon. I want to keep writing CRESCENDO and the opening scene of FALLOUT 8 is running through my mind as clear as a movie, not to mention AKAYOROSHI’s various pieces (and history pieces)…but the words won’t come. The brain won’t concentrate. It won’t even do me the service of hyperfocusing. It just doesn’t want to do anything.

Or it wants to do everything, all the time, all at once. Which is impossible.

…I need to visit Evergreen Taoist Temple.  I remember how peaceful I felt on that school excursion. And I need, I miss, I need my city. My Brisvegas. My September city. You carved yourself into my heart, I can’t leave you — your absence sits on my soul like a suppurating ulcer.

In other news, I just accidentally stabbed myself in the thigh with a sashiko needle I dropped. Go me. 😀

I am so, so sick of this.

“Boohoohoo, Taylor Swift only writes song about her own experiences!”

Oh my sweet stars.

Look, I am ambiguous on Swift the woman, not overly fond of Swift the product, love some of her music, am “eh” on the rest of it, but: SHUT THE HELL UP. Artists do not exist to serve YOU. We make art about whatever the hell we want and have no other obligations; any other expectations you have are ON. YOU. Deal with them yourself.

If you don’t like Swift’s confessional music, here’s a thought: DON’T. LISTEN. TO IT. Don’t give her your money if you don’t like it! She isn’t beholden to you or me or anyone else other than herself.

“The poet’s vow is to–” NO. STOP. Any poet’s vow is THEIR OWN.

If you want a song written about a certain topic? WRITE IT YOURSELF.

You people have made me defend Taylor Swift. Stars above.

medical hiatus; mission critical

ON INDEFINITE HIATUS:

CLOSING:

STAYING ACTIVE:

Basically, everything that doesn’t spark enough joy currently will be put on hiatus (or closed). Quite obviously I’m immersing myself in all things Tolkien, seeing as I’m slowly finding delight in my Middle-earth again; one that I don’t have to share with lying fairweather ‘friends’. (No, I’m not sorry — if you want me to say nice things about you, ACT BETTER.)

Pretty sure today that the internet was a net, ha, loss for humanity, but what can you do.

some facts, what spice!

Fact: unsweetened cranberry juice is revolting.

Fact: nerve pain is awful, please make it stop. My body is exhausted but I can’t sleep.

Fact: I made a thing! And did a words! Elrond having twinless twin feels will never not be relevant to me.

Fact: The neighbour saw an eastern brown slide into my yard and hide beneath the bonfire pile. Cue me avoiding that area of the yard for the next ten thousand years.
(Listen to your friendly local OzScot here: you do not eff around with eastern brown snakes. They are not cute and sweet snek friends. They are incredibly aggressive, extremely venomous, and responsible for 60% of snakebite deaths in the country. If you see one, you stand stock effing still and let it go do whatever it’s doing — probably hiding from you, but still. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200, do not disturb it or interact with it in any way.  Keep an eye on it, and when it’s safe, you get the hell out of there and call the snake-catcher if it’s near your home. Also, if your dog or cat has one bailed up, DO NOT DISTRACT YOUR PET. They are a thousand times more likely to get bitten if you distract them. Their snake instincts are way better than yours; just let them be and keep an eye on where they and the snake go.
…this PSA has been brought to you by my horrific fear of eastern browns.)

Fact: the online treatment of the Rings of Power cast is giving me flashbacks to my teenage years and being cyberbullied to within an inch of my life.
I hope every single person who has thrown abuse at any of these actors magically develops a condition that causes any internet service they use to stop working forever.