Bah. Woken up sometime after three due to my apartment door swinging open and light from the hallway coming into my bedroom. Must have not latched it properly. Can't get back to sleep, but too tired to read.
Over the weekend, my mother posted to Facebook a copypasta of "i'm voting against joe biden and the democrats." It was probably one of those things where she said "oh yeah this sounds right" and didn't bother reading or analysing or engaging with the actual content. It's still taken up more room in my head than it deserves. I emailed her yesterday to ask about the bits that seemed to contradict things she'd said to me back in October. I don't really expect a response.
I'm afraid that between the plague and the move into the assisted-living facility, my parents have finally fully closed their epistemological loop. And this week I'm afraid, actually afraid, of another Trump victory. Like... even if he loses in November forty percent of the US is gone, lost to reason and to empathy, and that's horrific enough, but if he wins...
And now I'm thinking of Abby, my semiestranged friend who was arguably the first casualty of the Trump regime. She killed herself on election night 2016, on I think the assumption that the ACA would be repealed and she wouldn't be able to afford the MS drugs she needed. She is, somehow, the only person I've lost in the last four years. I don't expect that to hold true for another four.
I'm scared, and tired, and alone. It's Emily's birthday. It's the hour of the prickly pear, the year of the plague. I don't think I'm doing well but I'm hanging in. I just... continue to not be able to fully recharge, maybe.
I miss a sense of calm and routine and control over my life. I miss thinking further ahead than the next few days, I miss looking forward to things. Or having fixed points where I knew what was coming next. Or maybe having more or more varied spaces and activities where I can feel like /me/.
I'm roleplaying again, every other Monday afternoon (Monday evening East Coast time). The system is Savage Worlds, which I know only by reputation; the world is RIFTS, late-eighties teenage powergamer fantasy. So far it's confirmed that I dislike multi-person Zoom calls. It's also reminded me that I have an absolute limit on the number of people involved in a game that I'm playing in, which this is bumping up against (the limit's eight; I won't run a game for more than five and that's pushing it, but I'll play in slightly larger groups). And that RPG combat scenes are not what I game for. And despite all that it's good to get my hands back into role-playing, and next session promises to be less fighty. Vaguely stirring up ideas of running something myself, though I don't know what. Or for whom, or when. I just want more... more like that, somehow.
Over the weekend, my mother posted to Facebook a copypasta of "i'm voting against joe biden and the democrats." It was probably one of those things where she said "oh yeah this sounds right" and didn't bother reading or analysing or engaging with the actual content. It's still taken up more room in my head than it deserves. I emailed her yesterday to ask about the bits that seemed to contradict things she'd said to me back in October. I don't really expect a response.
I'm afraid that between the plague and the move into the assisted-living facility, my parents have finally fully closed their epistemological loop. And this week I'm afraid, actually afraid, of another Trump victory. Like... even if he loses in November forty percent of the US is gone, lost to reason and to empathy, and that's horrific enough, but if he wins...
And now I'm thinking of Abby, my semiestranged friend who was arguably the first casualty of the Trump regime. She killed herself on election night 2016, on I think the assumption that the ACA would be repealed and she wouldn't be able to afford the MS drugs she needed. She is, somehow, the only person I've lost in the last four years. I don't expect that to hold true for another four.
I'm scared, and tired, and alone. It's Emily's birthday. It's the hour of the prickly pear, the year of the plague. I don't think I'm doing well but I'm hanging in. I just... continue to not be able to fully recharge, maybe.
I miss a sense of calm and routine and control over my life. I miss thinking further ahead than the next few days, I miss looking forward to things. Or having fixed points where I knew what was coming next. Or maybe having more or more varied spaces and activities where I can feel like /me/.
I'm roleplaying again, every other Monday afternoon (Monday evening East Coast time). The system is Savage Worlds, which I know only by reputation; the world is RIFTS, late-eighties teenage powergamer fantasy. So far it's confirmed that I dislike multi-person Zoom calls. It's also reminded me that I have an absolute limit on the number of people involved in a game that I'm playing in, which this is bumping up against (the limit's eight; I won't run a game for more than five and that's pushing it, but I'll play in slightly larger groups). And that RPG combat scenes are not what I game for. And despite all that it's good to get my hands back into role-playing, and next session promises to be less fighty. Vaguely stirring up ideas of running something myself, though I don't know what. Or for whom, or when. I just want more... more like that, somehow.