MOOP!

Numbers are all meaningless. I'm a mathematician so you can trust me when I say there's nothing more significant or special about one-thousand over nine-hundred-ninety-nine. Or one-thousand-one. In the grand scheme of things, they're all "approximately that much". (in the grand scheme of things, every number you can name is in the same bucket. That's just peanuts to numbers, etc.)

So yeah. 1000. It is just a number and there is nothing special about it.

I'm a mathematician, so you can trust me when I say that there is something special and significant and glorious about every number. One thousand is the first of the four digit numbers! It's 8 in binary! It's 10^3! It's very nicely round appearing, with all the zeros, and it's pretty fun to say. "thousand" is a great number to throw in if you're exaggerating something or engaging in pleasant hyperbole.

It is the number of days, inclusive, since August 22nd, 2022. Meaning, if we call that particular date, arbitrarily chosen, "day 1" then today, May 17th, 2025, is day 1000.

***

I have been thinking a lot lately about secrets and privacy and the ways in which I talk around things when they're too big or complicated or different or weird for me to state outright.

This has been extremely relevant lately because several months ago the choir director at my school sent around an email to all-staff saying "hey, the students are going to do Vivaldi's Gloria as a masterwork, and I'd love to have some adults join in" which means I performed in my very first concert _ever_ on Thursday. As of 48 hours before the concert, I had told exactly the following people I was doing this: my mother. At therapy, I mentioned it fast-casual-offhand and it did become the entire focus of that session. Called mom and talked to her about it for over an hour more. Did manage to tell Austin about it that evening, which was hard, told Maia the next day, have started to vaguely mention it in general through the actual day of the concert. Why didn't I tell anyone in February when I started rehearsals? Because things that my brain decides as secrets are big and complicated and different and weird and I struggle to say things aloud about them sometimes.

Anyways, the concert went well! It was nice! There's no reason anyone can figure out why I didn't talk about it earlier (there are actually several, if anyone cares ping me and I'll make it a separate post). It's not like the other thing I haven't been talking a ton about, there's a _reason_ I'm not talking about that one, and it's fear of This Country. Remind me in late August if you want to know.

But yeah. This is apparently a thing in my heart and brain, that sometimes I decide to keep things secret, and then I am just fucking weird about them for no good reason.

***

The last day I missed writing 750words was August 21st, 2022. 1000 days ago.

It's just a number and it doesn't mean anything at all. It's just a number and it means everything.

~Sor
MOOP!

Eyyyy, it says I have a 496 day streak. That's a perfect number!

It also says it's Sunday, December 31st. That's...not as true, and it's one of the few days of the year where I feel it actually matters to have a midnight cron instead of 6AM. But I didn't write my words earlier, so I'm just gonna write some end-of-year words now, and that'll be fine.

2023 was, on the macro level, a shitshow of a year. Covid is still a problem. Anti-trans sentiment and laws are still a problem. Guns are still a problem. The multiple horrific wars in other places are still a problem. Unchecked horrific capitalism is still a problem. Lotta fuckin' problems 'round these parts is what I'm saying.

But for the first time in thirteen years (the prior was in 2010) Greykell hosted a New Year's Party in Maryland. That was not a problem. It was sorta the exact opposite of a problem! It was pretty fucking awesome, all told!

And because it's been thirteen years since I've seen a lot of these people, it was nice to be able to give the potted summary of my life and say that, on the personal level...my life is actually really fucking great. I love my job, even though it's exhausting and admin are buggin'. My house-family is deeply beloved to me. I have really good hobbies that make me really happy. I've been playing a weekly RPG for the first time in my life and we even finished a campaign.

And I have a whole mess of loved ones, from partners to comets to friends to family to my community, all the beloved people who make my life shine. I am freakishly lucky, to have so many amazing people around me. It's been really splendid this year, with my increased trips to Maryland, to get to see more of those people on the regular.

My brain is still a whole monster of a mess, and I can't in good conscience say it's ~getting better~ but I can say every year I learn more about how to handle it. I'm going into 2024 armed with structures, plans, ideas, abilities. I will keep writing things down on my todo list and trying even to do them.

The macro level is really bad, and I'd be a fucking liar if I said that stuff doesn't affect me, doesn't grind me down quietly, a little more each day.

But there's a lot of good in my life too. Thanks to y'all, who're such a part of it. I love you.

~Sor
MOOP!

Hey kiddo, you know what doesn't suck? You have written your words every day bar one for almost two years straight. No, sorry, for *more than* two years straight actually (because it started in December).

In a pandemic. Through the hell zone. While your emotion drains and you lose all sense of what it means to feel.

There is a lot of things wrong in the world right now. Some of those things are reflected as wrong with you (because we are all wrong right now, we shouldn't have been broken like this, but this trauma will not vanish with a vaccine and a new president). But the fact that you are still able to make words is a proof of hope.

Your words have made you a home to come back to, when it's time for a bit of happily ever after. That is a good and glorious thing, and I know you can't feel right now, but if you could, I would grant you joy.

524 + 226 = 750 days of 750 words and only just one day missing is not a stain of imperfection but a proof that you will start again.

Good.

~Sor
MOOP!

1 year ago today, I made a post about breaking my 12-day streak over on 750words. At that point, it had been the longest continuous streak of writing, every single day, that I'd had since 2016.

(The longest streak I'd _ever_ had, at that point, was the one I had that ended in February of 2011. It was about 220 days total. I'd never since broken 200, despite using the site off and on since I first joined, in March of 2010.)

I was sad, but I was resilient. I was coming out of a couple years of pretty bad funk, and I was ready to be present again, and start doing more of the work, and communicating, and coming back into my true self and power. I was ready to be writing, not stories necessarily, but notes and journals and reminders and a history of my life. So I grounded myself for the next day, picked back up, and started again.

And I said, in that post:

I think that's going to continue to be the punishment moving forward --if I miss a day of writing, I don't get to play with my toys the next. We'll see how long this pattern lasts. Hopefully, it will turn into just...me writing my words as part of my existence, rather than a weird yo-yoing back-and-forth of days where I can and can't log on.

And as part of being grounded, I gave the list of things that were allowed. Accountability, yanno? I'm a big fan of using other people to help hold myself accountable, and writing something on my journal means that it's real and stuff.

So that's been the rule. Every day that I miss my words entirely, the next day I am grounded and I have to post an accounting of what my punishment is. It just makes sense, right? Surely I have enough self-discipline to keep doing that?

Well, it's been a year, and I haven't made any more accountability posts. Which means I'm distractable, and scattered, and can't hold on to the games I create to try and beat my ADHD brain into shape. None of this is surprising to me --I am, after all, very aware of my own damages, and one of them is a total lack of consistency and a desperate keening for novelty (despite how much I despise change).

...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...wait.

It's been a year and I haven't made any more accountability posts.

Because I have written 750 words --three pages-- every single day. Arisia, California, Pinewoods, Summer School, moving, visiting parents and hanging with friends and having dates. Yesterday, I called Austin over to witness me (shiny and chrome) as I hit refresh and the little counter at the top of the page clicked over to 365. Today will be 366.

All this entire year I've been looking at the numbers creep by. 2019 still isn't yet my _best_ year since starting the site, I had a year when I only missed four days total. But this is, easily, by _far_, by well over a hundred days the longest continuous streak of writing I've ever had. I started using this site 3,553 days ago, which means that this streak has been over a tenth of the time I've had to write. (It's almost a fifth of my completed days, if you ignore all those days I didn't write at all, or didn't write enough).

This all feels very clinical, very data-driven, facts and figures and no feelings at all. But it's...it's a hard thing to feel. Because the feeling that comes in if I let myself is pride, and it's such an utter painful sobbing thing for me to feel. I am proud of myself, I am _so_ proud of myself, I have written and written and written, and sure, half of it's probably absolute drivel but...

...it's there. It's real. It is, as I am fond of saying, opening the veins and letting the ink flow out like it's meant to and covering pages upon metaphorical pages of the noun-and-verb of writing, which is the verymost thing that keeps me alive.

This is not possible. It is just not possible for my _very_ ADHD self to commit to something that takes an enormous effort of focus, to say "I am going to make absolutely sure I do this, every fucking day, even if it is a bad idea." I have written a dozen words at a time, in fits and starts between hitting snooze on my alarm at two in the morning, trying to force myself done before I fell asleep for good. I have written quick and dull in the face of boring meetings or boring notes. I have written lesson plans and to-do lists and schedules.

It is not...good, in the aggregate. It is not worth having spent the time on, the energy, the stress. It is not worth ignoring pretty boys while they get ready for bed without me, it is not worth slipping back to my cabin early and double-checking my wordcount on the laptop then cheating an entry with quick copy-paste on my phone. The effort expanded here is not worth anything, because "I wrote three pages every day for a year" can only possibly be met with "why?" and I have no answer to that.

It is worth _everything_ to me. I use so many words to identify myself, and I know I can never have it real, because I'll never be published and I'll never have the time or energy or focus to finish any fictions, but damnit shit fuckitall, I am a writer by god. I know that word to the core of my soul, before dancer, before teacher, way before mathematician. I am a writer, and I write. I am a writer because I need to write. I need it like the moon needs the sun, like the tree needs the sky.

Why, because I can. Because I can because I cannot believe in any reality at all where I was able to make this happen, where I could do something --even something I _love_-- for every day, for every day for this long. Six am to six am means three pages and 750 words.

I am so proud (I am not allowed to be proud) I am so proud it aches. I cannot believe this is real.

I don't think I'll keep holding myself to this standard --at some point I will slip and miss a day, and that is fine, that is what will happen, and I'll write more again after. But the fact that I was able to do this, even just once, means maybe someday I can do it again. Or do something else impressive and long-lasting, steady and strong.

273,750 words. More, of course, because it's rare that I only exactly make count. Well done, little childe. I'm proud.

~Sor
MOOP!

ACCOMPLISHMENTS:

Work:
*The Usual
*Actually caught up on attendance, which I missed yesterday, and writing seven billion cut slips sigh. Still need to do participation.
*Also graded a random Calc assignment, which means I only have two more assignments for them before I'm totally caught up. And some random participation and entrance tickets. Sigh.
*Worked with favourite student for an hour-plus after school today! That's always fun, I like her a lot.

Physical:
*Walked to therapy, because my bike is borked. Beat the 91, but only barely.
*Took a shower in the morning
*Went to squares and did a bit of dancing! Also I'm going to lead the grand march. I have not done this yet, so we'll see how it turns out.
*Added: The grand march went totally fine! We went up and down staircases! Somehow nobody died!
*Wrist is mostly feeling better. Still keep tweaking it, booooo.

Social:
*Went to squares! Chatted with random people
*Got called rude on the internet for telling a white man I wouldn't keep arguing with him unless he paid me. His retort was "should I invoice you for my valuable time then?" and then making ten more comments in the thread to other people. I am laughing my fucking _ass_ off.
*Gonna go curl up with Austin and do sleep! I guess this also counts as physical?

Personal:
*Wrote words without accomplishments list. Day 151 in a row, day 127 this year.
*Did some nice friendly social on dumb phone game. I liked it!
*I have now checked my email and done read-response for everything for two weeks in a row. I haven't made any forward progress on the endless pile of unread things, but for two straight weeks I've not made negative progress. I kinda like this!

~Sor
MOOP!

January 2019 was the first time in over two and a half years in which I wrote my 750words every single day.

Today will be day 56 --eight straight weeks of actually writing my damn words. I haven't had a streak this long since the 84 days I kept it going in early 2016. (I've now defeated four lesser streaks that I bothered to record in my little data-file).

And you know? Overall? I feel good about this. I feel good about _me_. I am in no way a perfect person. I am, in many ways, a fucking disaster of an ADHD service hedonist. There's a lot of things that could be _much better_ about my day-to-day life, starting with cleaning my room and actually buying groceries sometime.

But the way my memory works is through heavy external braining, and the way my soul works is through words and words and blessed text. So while not all my words have been happy, and while I've been...pretty rough for parts of this this streak, I think right now I'm finding a Self who likes the way they exist in the world.

I am a better person when I write regularly. I am in better touch with my wants and needs, I am in better cope about the Bad Shit, I am even able to use it to supplant some of the executive functioning I just do not have.

And damn, it's nice to bring my creative focus back to long-form journaling. It's nice to have you all here!

Let's see if I can keep it up for another month.

~Sor
MOOP!

ALRIGHT IT'S 2017!

So, I have this file on my computer from a year ago entitled "REVOLUSTRAVAGANZA". Somehow I am only just now realizing that "rev" is not the start of "resolution" but that's to be understood, since I haven't updated the list since like...apparently April. Huh.

In my defense, I spent a lot more of 2016 in a semi-Depressive state than most of the years prior, prompted in no small part by the minor traumas of losing a job I loved¹, dealing with a serious asshole landlord², and The Election. Usually I just get the drain bamage in the winter, spending much of April-June wanting to sob to pieces in my office was an unwelcome addition.

But separate from that, let's check in and see how I did on things. You can read the original post here.

1) Writing: Ehhhhhnnnnnhhh. I did a significantly spottier job of using 750w in 2016 than in 2015. This is gonna be a common trend by the way, 2015 was an objectively better year all around. I'll see about getting back into the swing of things this year.

2) Making LJ posts or whatever: I certainly haven't been hitting 15 a month, but I've been doing a fair clip, which is great. Apparently in October I posted on over half the days, which is kinda amazing. I'll keep trying to focus energies, I (as always) miss it over here.

3) Backing up the computer: I have been...okay? at this. Currently I'm like 60 days out, which is not so good. I will continue to try and hit once a month.

4) Cull my closet: This did not so much happen. I am not so much good at this.

5) Track bicycle milage: I did an awesome job of this until May, at which point I...got distracted and stopped syncing Eddie³ with Kela⁴, and also stopped using Eddie for a long while. That being said, I managed 1141.84 miles on the bike from January to May, which is a goodly amount, damnit!

((I miss my stupid eight mile commute along the river with the sunrise behind me. Damn but that was good zen-time.))

6) Frivolous bike journey: I did not actually manage. Maybe next year? It's not super a priority.

7) We don't talk about number seven. Being an adult is hard, and I spent a lot of the year in lack-of-meds trauma, which is my excuse for why we don't talk of number seven.

8) Have a job better than substituting for this school year: Well, uh. Huh. Okay, so nannying is objectively better than substituting (it's more consistent, less stressful, and pays better. No benefits, but then, I don't have benefits as a sub either). It's also not what I want to be doing with myself in the long term. Maybe 2017 should be the year where I get serious about finding a *career* again.

9) Five multiday non-dance events: Arisia, Balticon, Gencon, NYFF and.......Marc's Wedding? I don't think that counts. I traveled a lot, but most of it wasn't *events*, per se.

10) Five multiday dance events: Pinewoods x3, NEFFA, and I completely failed to do anything this fall.

11) Do well at current job: Well, they fired me. Like, less than a month after I made this resolution, there began to be Big Conversations and all of January and February was fucking nightmare awful, but I genuinely thought I was doing the work I needed and getting better and it didn't matter. Come the April contract negotiations, I was informed that I would not be invited back.

(My boss was gracious enough to do it at a free period at the end of the day, which means when I went down to my office and sobbed, I didn't have to worry about getting my face back together for students.)

But I think I did a pretty fucking good job of it up until that ending point. The best I could, at least.

12) Give more presents: Ehhh, a little bit? I got weirdly excited and overboard this Christmas with my family (which I like and feel good about, and since I get many things secondhand or discount, I don't feel like I spent too much money or anything), and I feel like I've done a couple good things throughout the year, but not much.

13) Give more presence: I continue to not do well at this, but I've at least been trying? I need to leave way more DW/LJ comments than I actually do, don't I?

14) Less computer time: Weirdly yes? And also very no? It's complicated. When I have other things to do or people to interact with, I'm a lot better at being present and not on the electronicx. When I'm just living my day-to-day life, it's harder. The introduction of pokemon weirded this a lot --I am more likely to have my phone out in public, but also more likely to not be doing anything that takes my attention.

I am probably not allowed to play Skyrim in 2017 either, but I'll re-check this position sometime around June. (Yes, I'm jonesing. Yes, I know there are other similarly good big sandboxy games, but I can't play any of them *either*, not until I can handle myself better.)

15) Emails: I currently have 9851 emails in my inboxen (667 unread). This is not great, but is better than the "well over 10k" I had this time last year. I'll keep poking at it.

16) Wedding planning: Oh gods, I haven't done any of this, and I need to start. Like serously start, since I'll be 28 in eight months. *whimper*

17) Spend time on west coast: With the corollary of "with my boyfriends". This mostly didn't happen. I did visit mek in April, which was excellent, but I didn't actually manage to visit Sparr at all, and things with K˚ are...complicated right now. My resolutions for this year are gonna include "repair some of my relationships and be a better partner".

18) Highland: Nnnnnn? I've been going more often, sure. I competed again (and I'm getting better --previous comp I was solidly 4/4, this one I was solidly 5/7). I'm now up to having *eight* dances clattering around in my head and getting confused with each other. I really want to find the time to film myself doing the best I can at each of them, so I have something to compare with in n months.

As I've mentioned a couple times here, I have no idea why I do Highland. I should unpack that sometime.

19) Craft more stuff: Unfortunately no. I've started drawing again, which is good, but I have really not been doing much in the creation department otherwise. Need to work on that.

(I did sew a tiny Sporran beltpouch at the NH Highland Games --oh hey, that's a multiday dance event!-- this year, because they didn't mind a grownass adult crashing the kids space. It's cute! I made a (very bad) buttonhole!)

So that's that review. It's good to check in with my goals sometimes. Maybe I will make more goals for 2017, and maybe I will actually do a better job of them this year.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: The narrative I have been using (because it hurts less) is that they were looking for a different classroom management style. This is true, but I don't like admitting how much I would've been willing to bend myself to theirs, despite the fact that I am not remotely authoritarian and that seems to be more of what they wanted.

2: Do you wanna know what I love most about my living situation right now? FUCKING EVERYTHING (except going from free in-unit laundry to coin in the basement). I love my new roommates, I love my new house, I love my new landlord, I LOVE LOVE LOVE my non-oil heat. It's a really good thing in a sea of not-so-great.

3: My shipboard computer! (Making the first electronic I've given a dude-name to in ages)

4: Keladry Selbstzucht --my darling laptop, named for the Lady Knight of Mindelan and the German word for self-discipline.

In other news, I have written over a million words. Since March 18th 2010. Four and a half years. One million words

I mean, I've slowed wayyyy down. After all, it took me barely four months to reach that first 100,000. By that rate, I should've hit a million over a year ago. But...

But

I'm not perfect. I'm not always creative, I'm not always consistent, I'm not always interesting or inspired. They're not always fiction. But they are words, and they are on the page. I have opened my veins and spilled the ink within them. Over and over. 865 days, 1,000,000 words.

(I suppose I can be especially proud that I've done it in about 65% of the time expected --I do not write 750 words. I average 1122, at least on the days I write. That's damn close to the minimum WriMo standard. I am pleased.)

I don't think I have anything else I can say, except here's to a million more. Or hell --at this rate, I can probably hit the next order of magnitude before I'm 60. That'd be a pretty cool pile of output, wouldn't it?

I don't as immediately self-identify as writer these days. But then, I don't really need to --it's not a thing that can change, it's not an identity that could ever be taken away.

And a million words in less than five years is a big part of why.

~Sor
MOOP!

Author's Note: To those lacking context, I use a site called 750words to track my writing. I'm not good at doing it every day--I will probably make a graphic detailing that fact in a little bit-- but here's the damnable thing, over and over again, for four and a half years, I have come back. I have tried again.

I am fucking incredible and not allowed to forget that fact.

So, here's what my life has been the last n weeks.

*I graduated. This was apparently a big deal or something.

*I took, and as of two days ago, passed my MTELs. Now I can get my teacher's license and get a job or something.

*I am currently in Atlanta. Two days of rest and relaxation with Sparr and the various folks around his living space, and then he and I go up to Columbus, OH on Wednesday for Origins.

*I helped my family move from Columbia MD to Park Ridge (just north of Chicago) IL. This involved driving for about six hours on Tuesday (mom drove the other half.)

*I drove my little sister to and from her college orientation at Hiram college. This involved driving for about six hours on Thursday and Saturday. No mom to help. On the plus side, I own a lot of music, and some of it she likes.

*I spent last weekend in Layfayette Georgia in order to go to my very first burn. Burns are hippie festivals; Burning Man is the best-known example. It was really quite fun, and I enjoyed running around the woods surrounded by hippies, and watching various people perform various arts, and learning things, and posing for photographs and jumping on the trampoline and etc. Also, there was fire, and it was fantastic. Alsoalso, I got to see in passing Amber, who is bright and sunny and really likes me and seems to want me to move to Atlanta almost as badly as Sparr does. She makes me smile a lot.

*I might make a real post about that one.

*Oh, also I went to Balticon a couple weeks ago. I slept in a car, and hung out with old friends and new friends, and again played less werewolf than usual, and broke my JungleSpeed totem (okay, technically Braffy broke it...) and wound up giving kisses to a gorgeous woman with fantastic pink hair, and flirted with the pervy artist, and in general it was all quite good. And like last year, it was a completely significant-other-free con. Which is a little strange, but mostly very freeing --the first time I went to Balticon, I went without my partner, and I kinda really like not being responsible for anyone else's happiness at the con. Not that I don't love being with my partners at cons, you understand --I do love it, very much-- but once a year...I'll gladly take the vacation from feeling responsible for other people's happiness. Because I am responsible, some, no matter how hard I try not to be. At least for my boys.

*Alys graduated high school. Go her!

*This is the first 750words entry I've made in twelve days, and the third this month. Please whine at me to do this. I won't be able to during Origins, but I should at least get my act together the week after, and once I'm back in Boston.

*Looking to get back in Boston somewhere around the fourth. Hoping to spend a night in NYC with...someone. Need to talk to relevant someones and see who has a couch and wants me to sleep on it. (I mean, I also have friends in the city who have couches that I can sleep on, but if I have people who actively want me as houseguest, I'll strive for that first.)

*Week after Origins is Girl Scout Day Camp. This might be my last year, but if you volunteer as an adult for five years, you get a pretty volunteer pin. And next year would be year five. So yeah, MD peeps, I might be looking for crash-space a random week in July or June 2012.

*I dodged the sunburn from camping in the middle of fuckyou Georgia all weekend (I hate the weather here, does it show), but the trade off is that I think I might have some poison ivy on my arm, and I certainly have bugbites everywhere. Still, that doesn't cause cancer, so I'm okay with this. I did my best to keep Sparr and Sarena sunscreened (two of my three campmates --Joe is a redhead and so did a very good job of keeping his pasty self covered) too, and I think it mostly worked.

*Made foodstuff with Sparr earlier --potatos and eggs such to put into breakfast burritos. Was good! Also, I made the mistake of asking Bethany how many people I should cook for (since she is the normal cook hereabouts) and she answered "sixteen".

I did not cook for sixteen people, because Christ, how would I?

That's all for now.

~Sor
MOOP!

(Okay, so, for a very long time now, I've known that MOOP is a burner term meaning Matter Out Of Place --probably learned it less than two years after I coined the term as my own personal word. Holy shit though, people actually use it, like all the time. It's how the burner community refers to trash, or to the action of leaving trash "Yeah, I was MOOPing all over the place last night, I should clean up" or "Jeeze, who left all this MOOP at our campsite."

The weekend was _so weird_ for that alone.)

Yeah, so 750words? Is that website that I am using to write words every day, and gives silly incentives to not stop writing, mostly in the form of SHINY PICTURES OF BIRDS (except the 200 straight days one is totally a pterodactyl, so yeah, so there)

Anyways, there's the last five months. An X means I wrote all my words. A slash would mean I wrote some words, but less than 750. A blank box means I didn't write any words at all.

( I've been doing 750words since March, but I only really got serious in August. )

I am kindof cool some days.

~Sor
MOOP!