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12 years, 3 months, 3,000,000 words
Yesterday was day 750 of my writing streak, which only really matters because the site is 750 words and that means I can square the number of words by the number of days and get _a fuckton_ of words. Over half a million.
Today I am going to write my 3,000,000th word on the site. It's taken me just barely under three years since I hit word 2,000,000, and that feels good as well. There are a lot of things that are hard or bad in the world, and some of the time I spend on this site involves wondering why I even bother, but this is why. Because it is good for me to have a record of everything I am, spiraling back three pages a day, for years and years and years.
Last time I hit a multiple of 1,000,000, I looked at my life at the multiple before it --from 2014 to 2019 my life changed a _lot_. That one Perfect Weekend for my Perfect Birthday really was such an amazingly pivotal event in my timeline, the 48 hours when suddenly everything shifted and shook. Things now are much less different than they were then. I am still working at the dream job. I am still dating mek and sir and Austin (and Tuesday now, that part is different and lovely!). I am still ringing bells and dancing.
There has been a global pandemic that has killed millions of people, nearly a hundred of them from the little liberal city I live in. Gun violence is worse than it was three years ago. Queer rights are being stripped, and women's rights are being destroyed.
The things that have changed are so global, and overwhelming, but I feel very much small and the same. And yet...2019 was the middle of the years where I just didn't bother doing my taxes --I settled them last October, finally, '18 and '19 and '20. I completed '21 before the deadline this year. This is a small thing, but it is emblematic of a larger thing, a sense that I am learning how to take care of myself and hack my brain into what I _want_ it to do. I reward myself with dice, but I make lists and dailies and spreadsheets and really, I reward myself with those too. Organization makes me feel calm, even when everything is falling apart.
In 2019, I was ringing bells, but it was _hard_ and it was...bad? Sometimes it was very bad for my brain and I behaved in ways that are somewhat crazy. It has been a _long_ time since bells have made me crazy --I think I've finally learned how to love myself at them, imperfect as I am. Maybe this is because the pandemic ate my emotions, but maybe this is just growing up and growing steady and growing _better_.
In 2019 I was just embarking on being a Scottish Dance Teacher, fully certificated and incredibly proud of it. I was getting ready to run two years of Scottish Sessions at Pinewoods. I have done less teaching than I wanted, in part because my first big one was meant to be March and April of 2020. My stint as Pinewoods co-chair took three years, because the one in the middle was virtual. And I've not talked about it much, but the way I've felt about SCD of late has been _hard_ because it sucks to love something that doesn't always feel like it loves you back. Maybe being able to be out at work makes it hard for me to accept other places that don't use my pronouns, don't feel like they want me there.
In 2019, I was just finishing the second year of the dream job, and it was the dream job and I only sobbed at my desk late into the night once every four or five months. Almost always because of how hard it was to not be myself, to grit my teeth and smile and nod when I was called Miss. But I'd finally gotten an evaluation where everything was at least "meets expectations" and no longer "needs improvement". I had amazing seniors that year, a few of them still friends on Facebook, chatting with them here and there.
In 2019, in June, I was looking out at the end of a particular phase of my relationship with Austin, and not quite sure how I was going to handle the beginning of the next one. Happy for Phoebe to move up here, but worried that suddenly five-nights-a-week was no longer going to be what we managed, and will the relationship survive? It did, it has, I worked through my hang-ups and worked with my loves, and in another year the two of them will be married and I'm so happy for them I feel my heart will burst.
In 2019, I owned _substantially_ fewer dice, I hadn't quite started to collect them again in earnest. But to be fair, I was also only just barely starting to have a savings account, years of substitute teaching and scraping by not-too-far behind me. My bank account is healthier now, which makes a lot of other life terrors easier to bear --it's not happiness I've bought, it's stability and security and knowing that if The Worst happens it won't hit immediately.
In 2019, I hadn't started giving blood regularly. Once a year at Arisia -maybe, if I felt I could sustain it. I wasn't very serious about the idea, I didn't want to try and stack up the donations and see how many I could get into the same calendar. (I managed three in 2021 and two so far in 2022, but plenty of time to reach a goal of four. Six still feels very unlikely, but gosh, wouldn't it be fun to try?)
In 2019 I didn't live with my family yet, but it was soon. The very tail end of Danza Hausa, with John Danger and the sword collector and the very very woo craigslist roommate who I'm so happy I didn't live with during the start of the pandemic. Come August I would move in with Ezri, and come February they adopted Nigel, and come April we adopted Rey. Still a year before living in my beautiful beloved house, right in the middle of where I want to be.
In 2019 I had a bicycle and I rode it everywhere and I loved it very much. That part is still true.
In 2019, I wrote every single day. For a whole year, I wrote every day, and that was something that had never happened before (and for the several years before had never even been close). I was so proud of myself then, I am still so proud of myself now. My heart pumps ink and I keep myself steady and sane through the noun and verb of writing. I loved writing then and I love it now and I will love it for as long as I exist, because it's the way to make things True.
I missed one day in 2020, but zero in 2021. And zero so far in 2022. Onwards! I will see you at four million (which will be no later than three years and eight months from now, assuming I write every day until then --but who knows what the world will look like in 2025? I could make guesses, but that feels like a different post.)
~Sor
MOOP!
Today I am going to write my 3,000,000th word on the site. It's taken me just barely under three years since I hit word 2,000,000, and that feels good as well. There are a lot of things that are hard or bad in the world, and some of the time I spend on this site involves wondering why I even bother, but this is why. Because it is good for me to have a record of everything I am, spiraling back three pages a day, for years and years and years.
Last time I hit a multiple of 1,000,000, I looked at my life at the multiple before it --from 2014 to 2019 my life changed a _lot_. That one Perfect Weekend for my Perfect Birthday really was such an amazingly pivotal event in my timeline, the 48 hours when suddenly everything shifted and shook. Things now are much less different than they were then. I am still working at the dream job. I am still dating mek and sir and Austin (and Tuesday now, that part is different and lovely!). I am still ringing bells and dancing.
There has been a global pandemic that has killed millions of people, nearly a hundred of them from the little liberal city I live in. Gun violence is worse than it was three years ago. Queer rights are being stripped, and women's rights are being destroyed.
The things that have changed are so global, and overwhelming, but I feel very much small and the same. And yet...2019 was the middle of the years where I just didn't bother doing my taxes --I settled them last October, finally, '18 and '19 and '20. I completed '21 before the deadline this year. This is a small thing, but it is emblematic of a larger thing, a sense that I am learning how to take care of myself and hack my brain into what I _want_ it to do. I reward myself with dice, but I make lists and dailies and spreadsheets and really, I reward myself with those too. Organization makes me feel calm, even when everything is falling apart.
In 2019, I was ringing bells, but it was _hard_ and it was...bad? Sometimes it was very bad for my brain and I behaved in ways that are somewhat crazy. It has been a _long_ time since bells have made me crazy --I think I've finally learned how to love myself at them, imperfect as I am. Maybe this is because the pandemic ate my emotions, but maybe this is just growing up and growing steady and growing _better_.
In 2019 I was just embarking on being a Scottish Dance Teacher, fully certificated and incredibly proud of it. I was getting ready to run two years of Scottish Sessions at Pinewoods. I have done less teaching than I wanted, in part because my first big one was meant to be March and April of 2020. My stint as Pinewoods co-chair took three years, because the one in the middle was virtual. And I've not talked about it much, but the way I've felt about SCD of late has been _hard_ because it sucks to love something that doesn't always feel like it loves you back. Maybe being able to be out at work makes it hard for me to accept other places that don't use my pronouns, don't feel like they want me there.
In 2019, I was just finishing the second year of the dream job, and it was the dream job and I only sobbed at my desk late into the night once every four or five months. Almost always because of how hard it was to not be myself, to grit my teeth and smile and nod when I was called Miss. But I'd finally gotten an evaluation where everything was at least "meets expectations" and no longer "needs improvement". I had amazing seniors that year, a few of them still friends on Facebook, chatting with them here and there.
In 2019, in June, I was looking out at the end of a particular phase of my relationship with Austin, and not quite sure how I was going to handle the beginning of the next one. Happy for Phoebe to move up here, but worried that suddenly five-nights-a-week was no longer going to be what we managed, and will the relationship survive? It did, it has, I worked through my hang-ups and worked with my loves, and in another year the two of them will be married and I'm so happy for them I feel my heart will burst.
In 2019, I owned _substantially_ fewer dice, I hadn't quite started to collect them again in earnest. But to be fair, I was also only just barely starting to have a savings account, years of substitute teaching and scraping by not-too-far behind me. My bank account is healthier now, which makes a lot of other life terrors easier to bear --it's not happiness I've bought, it's stability and security and knowing that if The Worst happens it won't hit immediately.
In 2019, I hadn't started giving blood regularly. Once a year at Arisia -maybe, if I felt I could sustain it. I wasn't very serious about the idea, I didn't want to try and stack up the donations and see how many I could get into the same calendar. (I managed three in 2021 and two so far in 2022, but plenty of time to reach a goal of four. Six still feels very unlikely, but gosh, wouldn't it be fun to try?)
In 2019 I didn't live with my family yet, but it was soon. The very tail end of Danza Hausa, with John Danger and the sword collector and the very very woo craigslist roommate who I'm so happy I didn't live with during the start of the pandemic. Come August I would move in with Ezri, and come February they adopted Nigel, and come April we adopted Rey. Still a year before living in my beautiful beloved house, right in the middle of where I want to be.
In 2019 I had a bicycle and I rode it everywhere and I loved it very much. That part is still true.
In 2019, I wrote every single day. For a whole year, I wrote every day, and that was something that had never happened before (and for the several years before had never even been close). I was so proud of myself then, I am still so proud of myself now. My heart pumps ink and I keep myself steady and sane through the noun and verb of writing. I loved writing then and I love it now and I will love it for as long as I exist, because it's the way to make things True.
I missed one day in 2020, but zero in 2021. And zero so far in 2022. Onwards! I will see you at four million (which will be no later than three years and eight months from now, assuming I write every day until then --but who knows what the world will look like in 2025? I could make guesses, but that feels like a different post.)
~Sor
MOOP!