Half Naked Thursday: Ceiling

So this is technically fifteen minutes late. Sue me, it's not tomorrow until the sun rises or I sleep.

A week ago, I made a post being all "Half-Naked Thursday, whee!". It was meant to be a look at more metaphorical nakedness, stripping down the walls to show you what I've really got going on in my world.

At any rate, then I mentioned that I originally had two photos and was only showing one of them. This makes this weeks HNT really really easy for me to manage --next week, I will have to actually look around to find a bit of myself to reveal, if indeed, I continue on with this trend.

But yes. Have a picture of me being naked. Odd, in that it's also not a picture of me at all.

Happy Thursday.



This second is a little more new, a little more raw. It's the ceiling of my room, directly above my desk.

A week or two ago, I was having a rough night. In talking with Rackle, she brought up the term "Index card days", where you're just so socially frustrated and out of cope that you have to communicate through tiny 3" by 5" cards.

I have a pile in my desk drawer. Out they came that day, and it seemed the most logical thing in the world to write some song lyrics across them. Lyrics from strength-songs, where the lyrics don't necessarily matter in the slightest, but the message of being strong is crucial to my well being. "Go Away Godboy" is the song I use the most for this --I've never really had problems with people trying to convert me or mine, but howling along with the words can stabilize my mood like nothing else.

Because the words are meant to say "fuck you, I'm stronger than that", and on days when I am weak and helpless, I really need that.

And I forced myself out of the sobbing¹ to write more of them, because if I am actively writing, I am forcing distraction, and that little edge of distraction is all I need sometimes to stabilize. All of them have wound up there, tucked into the framework of the drop ceiling. I've got ten of them now, apparently. I'm sure that, as I enter this mood, and need the music and lyrics, I'll think of more.

So that's my current vulnerability. Come visit, I'll let you read them if you'd like.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Which itself was after that pervasive emptiness, and broken by my reaching out. I don't like playing shitty girl games, and I hate being cryptic, but that doesn't mean I manage to make all my words to people transparent. There are people who can read between the letters and the lines, through the /me and the carefully arranged punctuation and capitalization, and figure out what I'm actually trying to say over IM, that I just can't, because the words just won't come.

...and because there isn't an elegant way to put what I'd be doing in reality into words. It's that vulnerable look when I arrive on your doorstep, and ask for a hug, and pull myself into you, a double fistful of your shirt as I hide inside your arms, and pour myself out onto your shoulder. It's past want, straight into need, and I don't have a lot of people I've done it to, or *could* do it to (two? maybe three?) and I'm about to lose one of them, but I don't care, because sometimes there's safety there, and that's what I need more than anything else, that memory of safety. ((ETA: Holy run-on sentences, Batman! But this is kinda what my brain starts doing when I am in a vulnerable state))

It's an index card with eight words on it. It's an IM with eleven. It's being held, and being *held* and being held. It's the stairwells at Springstep, and just out the door at NEFFA. It's the long process of reducing the scarred and improving the weird. It's crying in June with the door shut, it's crying in July curled in the arms of someone I can't have, it's crying in August to a boy I barely know, it's crying-sobbing-breaking in January as I watch Next to Normal and try to separate their pain from mine, and try to find the strength I need to say the words I can't, I couldn't, I did.

It's the response I need, when I need it. It's breaking the emptiness with a *kiss*, and breaking the sobs with an *embrace*. It's *comfort*, from everyone who's ever given it.

And it's s00j and Dar and Vienna and Amanda and Alice.

If you can figure out a quicker way to tell people I need "that" than all the above, I'd love to hear it.

Frustrating things:

I have apparently determined that listening to "Between"¹ on endless repeat is fun and a good idea! Doubly frustrating, because I was doing this a couple weeks ago, too --I don't like being in the same gloomspace twice in a month. I thought I had snapped out of this one already.

***

Went into my multivariate calc exam fully expecting to fail. Sat down to maybe scrawl some notes down for a study sheet, and realized that I hadn't actually learned anything all semester. It felt a bit like those stereotypical dreams² where you didn't know you had a test and so didn't study, except without the waking up part. Quite awful.

Luckily, I was able to pummel my memory into at least writing down something for every part of every problem, and I do think I had some idea of what I was doing on a few of them. I did manage to correctly remember what cross-product multiplication of vectors was, so, yay me I guess.

But yeah. Things I learned this semester: Parameterization. WoooooooooooowhydoIsuckatmath?

***

I am supposed to be packing right now, as today I move the rest of my stuff out and start on my grand gallivanting adventure that I really just *have* to get some e-mails out about. First though, I think I need to find somewhere in Porter Exchange to scavenge breakfast from. So yes, breakfast, then go home and throw everything into boxes, then commit seppuku, then...wait, spellcheck recognizes seppuku? I am astonished, I was just throwing that in to check if anyone was paying attention.

...today is one of those whiny days where I really want attention. I'm going to have to snap my mind out of that before I get annoying, since I'm painfully aware of the fact that me being all *cling, paw, paw, paw* at people is in fact, not charming.

(Today is also one of those whiny days where I somewhat want to hide forever. I'll see how well I can manage that once I've finished packing.)

***

Rackle is really really cool, and said some good words to me last night that I should reread at some point and remember.

***

(Calling Olsen, calling Memphis, I am calling, can you hear this?)

~Sor
MOOP!

1: By Vienna Teng. Good song, great waltz, really honestly kinda depressing as hell when you listen to the lyrics. Multiple depressing ways to look at it, too. It's *brilliant* or something. The fact that it's invaded my world for the moment might be a bad sign, not really sure. I think I prefer to sort out the problems that it expresses rather than collapse under the weight of them. Wooooo, cryptic!

2: I don't remember if I mentioned it when xkcd brought it up, but I don't have stereotypical dreams. I have only rarely dreamt myself naked, and never had my teeth fall out. I've never flown (though I would fall for a while, but not endless falling --just a ten-twenty foot drop half sliding alongside a wall). My dream tropes involve getting uncomfortably groped by people I'm supposed to be platonically fond of. Oh, and food. I have good food dreams unfairly often.