2016
01.06

About stories as warnings

I was just speaking on Twitter about heroes and the standard hero narrative and how I don’t like it.  About how I try to not do heroes and how my characters tend to be really broken and flawed people.  Through that I also got on a side track about how I doubt the story I’m writing will ever have a Happy Ending, because life doesn’t tend to come with a happy ending.

There are good times and there are bad times for all of us, but there is no happy ending waiting at the end of the tunnel.  And when one of our lives end, it’s not the end.  As this amazing tweet says; “Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.”  Life goes on, and life in itself does not guarantee a Happy ending.  Life is full of dark and cruel and terrible endings.

After that I remembered that there is a character in the train world stories who collects terrible endings in her head as stories to tell herself as she waits for sleep at night.  Terrible ends to Protectors she has known and cared about.  As warnings.

So I tweeted parts of it, but here is a longer thing.  It’s about how she’s grieving the loss of a dear friend of her’s.  Who did indeed meet quite a terrible end.

She added another story to tell herself at night as she was waiting for sleep.  So many times she had been asked by new arrivals if she as an experienced Protector had any stories to tell them.  Just as many times she had told them that she did not tell stories.  Not a single one of the stories she collected in her head would she ever tell them.  They were not stories to be told to others over a cup of semi-coffee.  They were not stories to warm the heart.  They were all warnings.  They were all stories as dark as the tunnels outside, stories as hopeless as life.  They were all stories with as many bad endings to them.
Now she had another one, and hiding in the dark closet with tears trickling down her cheeks she closed her eyes and began to tell it to herself, her mouth full of the taste of his blood.

I think it is important to remember that in real life, there are no happy endings guaranteed, and often the endings to our stories are pretty grim.  These stories are just as important to remember and learn from as the happy ones, the lighter ones, the ones that give us comfort and joy.

Because sometimes, if we remember the bad endings we are told and taught about, we have a better chance of avoiding them.  That way perhaps, maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find our ending when we meet it not as terrible as the endings of some of the stories we’ve been told.

/pao – 06 jan 2016 – 22.58

2015
12.13

This is mainly taken from a meme on Twitter, where one gave out facts and confessions about oneself for every like one got.  Although, I didn’t bother with that, I just went ahead and wrote about fifty tweets of confessions and facts anyway before deciding I should probably just move it to my blog instead of filling up people’s twitter feeds.  So, here I am!

These have been edited and pieced back together here for your reading pleasure since they are no longer under the tyrannical rule of Twitter character limits.

Some of these are about self-harm and depression and other uncomfortable things, but they are not in any way glorifying or encouraging these things, rather the opposite.  Might still be triggery for some people, so… be warned.

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2015
09.21

A few days ago, I wrote down many of these low spoon recipes for a friend, and I thought that I should expand upon them a bit and put them up here in service for other people who might need some low spoon cooking ideas for bad days.  Some of these need a bit more preparation than others, but those who need that generally make up for that in being great to cook a bigger batch of and then keep in the fridge and heat in portions or to eat cold in order not to have to cook again for a few days.

For these recipes, I haven’t added any measurements, because honestly I don’t really use measurements when cooking.  Most of these are pretty much just about using the ratios you want and are happy with.  Perhaps one day I feel like having a lot of tomatoes in something and another day I’m out of tomatoes and making it anyway.  None of them are set in stone.

Take them more as inspiration and some sort of foundation, then experiment with the ratios and the seasoning to suit your tastes!  I use basil a lot, but perhaps you want other herbs and like them better, so go with what you want.

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2015
09.10

Pao Pain Scales

I’m not pleased with most pain scales I’ve seen out there.  Many seem to be for sudden and not chronic pain.  So thought I’ll make some for myself, relevant to how I function.  They will be for overall pain levels, local pain levels, and headache pain levels.  Perhaps they might also be helpful for other people, but mostly they are meant to explain how I myself work, for future reference and for people who are wondering what I mean whenever I start sounding like the Shipping Forecast, going; “Right hip five, stabbing.  Left waist seven, constant.  Head three and rising slowly.”

Here is a first draft for my pain scales.  I have experienced all of these pain levels, and I try to provide examples of what they might be like where I can, but sometimes pain is difficult to explain.  I’ll improve them over time, and they might change when/if I keep on experiencing new kinds of pain and reaching new pain levels, but it’s a start.

Note that overall pain levels might be very much lower than any local pain level for parts of me.  If for example I have an arm and a leg which are both at five or six temporarily, I might still rate it as an overall four for the day or the moment if I can still function decently.  An overall ten would be much, much worse than having just a local ten, even if at those levels I tend to fall unconscious, and that’s probably a good thing.

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2015
09.02

from Twitter, this morning

I’ll put some tweets from this morning up here on my blog as well, for future reference.  Because things on twitter passes by too quickly to be very useful to look back on.  I’ll make them more into paragraphs and put them in italics.

Trying to wake up.  My ribs hurt when I breathe, and the pain in my side is worse.  Oh, and headache and nausea.  Guess I’ll get used to this too, eventually.  Mornings are getting worse.  More and more difficult to get up.  More and more pain and nausea to overcome.

The headache is the most worrying to me.  I can generally deal with unspeakable levels of physical pain, but can’t deal well with [headaches].  I need to figure out a way to deal with all of this.  Just sitting up to take my meds made me almost throw up.  Pretty sure this is not something people in general have to deal with.

Know what?  I’ll start ranting about my pain and things like that on my blog.  Because ranting helps, but twitter’s not the right place.  Won’t hesitate to rant here either, but I think my blog can help too.  It’s more steadfast in the crashing rivers of time.  Notes and rants here on twitter is mostly gone without a trace three days later.  The passing of time is felt honestly in the tweetfeeds.  And in the middle of the great chaos my life currently is, I will need stability.  Less ephemeral ghosts, more sturdy hugs.

But with shabbat and hung gar and my blog, I might find enough stability and routine to keep me grounded.  Safe places to hide and rest.

For me who is a creature of patterns, getting lost in the patterns of hung gar is just as easy as getting lost in the patterns of grammar.  I know I told myself I wouldn’t hung gar if I had to take painmeds, but it’s gone pretty well thus far so that rule made no sense.  As long as I focus and try to be careful, I think things will go all right.  So, I’ll attempt hung gar today as well, if I get well enough to leave my lair at all.  Although no one at the hung gar seems to believe I’m just too lazy or that I’m just skipping out on them for fun when I don’t appear.  Which is great, because it’s true, but I really wonder where all their understanding comes from.

Last night I also made another attempt to return to 100Words, and I have found some places on Twitter with people who do creative writing with prompts and topics and stuff.  I hope I will be able to join that fun too.  Together with Nanowrimo, this should be enough creative writing outlets for when I can and feel like writing but can’t think of anything small.  I need more confined spaces to fill.

/pao – 2 sept 2015 – 14.54

2015
09.02

returning to long lost places

I haven’t been here in ages, but here I am once more.  Sometimes I’ve wandered by, gently nuzzling the past, remembering, before passing again.  I’ve gently pulled apart the covering, ever-green ivy to see what time had hid underneath.

I have missed the old days and I have remembered them and smiled.  I have backtracked and doubled back and wandered these paths now and then, watching my own pawprints, trying to remember who I was back when I wrote these things, thought these thoughts.

Time has pulled me along in its currents.  Friends found.  Friends lost.  Things discovered, things covered and recovered.  Over and over.  New patterns made, old patterns fading.  Growing.  Growing.

And so, once more, my paws bring me here, to my own long lost proving grounds.  Known.  Unfamiliar.  Unknown and overgrown.

*

For a few years now, I have been here very rarely.  My blog hasn’t felt like my own place, but a place for others.  It has had too much pressure.  It has felt as if every thing I write has to be several thousand words of deep, profound knowledge, and sometimes I’m not profound.  Sometimes I want to write things that makes no sense.  Just for fun.

Sometimes I want to just write about pain and anger and sadness and disappointment, and I want to feel as if I’m allowed to do this here as well.  I need a place like this, for things like those too.  I have to stop being afraid to upset or disappoint (the probably inexistent) people who follow or read this place in hope of finding life-altering insight.

This is my place.  Perhaps if I write life-altering words of wisdom that will be all good and well, and I will be happy about it, but… but I want to write these other things too.

And I’m tired of not doing it.

So I will try to do it now and reclaim this place, from the ivy and forgetfulness.

/pao – 1 sept 2015 – 23.55

2015
08.18

The most important bits

And I always make sure to remember:

Helping people.  Helping people makes me feel hopeful: we create the world we live in, every day.  I try to create a better world and I know that at least I make the world a better place for some people.  I hope it spreads.  I hope we will have a world to be proud of, one day.

I try to accept help.  I’m terribly proud and stubborn and usually I don’t accept help offered to me even when I really need it and should.  Accepting help and leaning on others is pretty much the most difficult thing in the entire world for me, but I’m working on it and it’s getting better. It’s something worth fighting for, because we all need help. We all need one another.

Sometimes I am weak and need support, and sometimes I’m a burden on people I love.  Sometimes I make them sad, because they love me, and of course it makes them sad when I’m miserable, just like I’m sad when people I care about are hurting.  That is what love does to people.  Love is empathy.  Sometimes I’m a burden, and that is all right: we all are.

We are all weak sometimes.

We are all a burden sometimes.

We all have our own problems and weaknesses and our myriad different impossibilities.

And do you know something?

That is all right too; because we are not alone.  Together we make little of our weaknesses and impossibilities, because our impossibility is what someone else excels at.

Together we are whole.

Together we are strong.

I honestly believe in all of this, and that helps me cope too.  That helps me believe that there is a future, even when it is too dark for me to see it.

2014
10.23

About how I cope with life

A few days ago, I logged into my art tumblr, and was met by this:

I’ve been following you on Twitter for over a year (maybe two?) now and really think you’re a great person! I’m kind of shy to talk to you, but I just wanted to say that I suffer from depression as well and seeing you cope as well as you do has helped me cope better too. If you’re up to it, I’d love to see you draw a picture depicting different things that help you cope with your depression. Anyway, thanks for just being you. :)
Anonymous

I got really happy.  I like helping people, and I know how difficult it can be contacting new people, so I wrote a quick reply.  A thanks.

I decided to work on this.  Drawing about things that help me cope and make me happy; what’s not to love about it?  Today I sat down to think about it.  What helps me cope with depression and my life being difficult?  What can I actually draw?  How does one draw ‘conlanging‘?  How does one draw ‘remembering‘?  I wrote it all down.  First sketch notes: this is what I want to have in the drawings (because by this point, it was clear that this could not be just one drawing), this is what I want to say.  Then real text: this is what these things mean, this is why.  Then I began drawing.  I slowly realised how to draw ‘conlanging‘.  I still struggle with ‘remembering‘.

It will take several days to finish this, so I thought I should make it a blog post while working on it.  This blog post is pretty much my second sketch text.  I put it here, because perhaps it can help someone.  Perhaps it can make someone smile.  Perhaps it is just a good thing having it here on my blog.  For future reference.  For remembrance.

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2014
06.20

(to know the rain)

i want to throw my head back and scream
“nothing matters but the rain!”

i want to whisper back to the sound
“i love you – i love you, rain”

sounds of remembrance, sounds forgotten
the sound of thunder, the sound of rain

the darkness who has always been the same
the only one who can outlive the rain

the thunder who was before fire was
the thunder who is always chasing the rain

i want to walk into the world reborn
the world and my spirit washed by the rain

i want to pray with the sound of the water
for a new beginning all shrouded in rain

i want to read the old secret languages
the streams on the window and sand by the rain

i want to share this with you; the smell
and the taste and the caress of the rain

i want to take your hand, lead into the dark
i want you to know the rain

i want you to know the rain
my heart was drowned in a torrent of rain

i want you to know the rain
because nothing matters but the rain

2014
05.09

Paradise

[I originally wrote this on the 20:th of August 2008, and I found it again about twenty minutes ago.  I thought that it was pretty interesting to see this thing again, so I decided to tidy up some grammatical errors and make it clearer and publish it here.  It is still far from perfect, but I did not want to edit it too much.  Enjoy this trip back to the past!]

This morning, I had a very tragic dream and when I woke up I was so sad that I had to get up and just walk around in my home for a while.
It was a dream about the quest for Paradise.  The longing for Paradise.
About the hope that some day everything will be wonderful, all by itself, without us having had to do anything to make it so.
And of how in the end there will never be a Paradise.

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