sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Not quite often enough1, I go down to MGH (a convenient ride on the red line, slightly less convenient but still doable on the green) and give blood at their donor center. Sometimes I get organized enough to bring other people with me, sometimes I just go myself, but at this point it's all pretty old hat: read the literature2, explain to the nurse that I checked yes on heart problems because I had a PDA and it's been repaired3, hop in the chair, drink even more water than that, eat some snacks, head home. It takes a couple hours?

And over the 18 years I've been eligible to give blood, I've done so at lots of different places. Even now, I could keep my eyes open for closer blood drives than ~all the way at MGH~ --I mean, I know the armory does them sometimes, and that's just down the street! But I know the structure at MGH, I know where to go, I like the snack options, everything is no-nonsense and as enjoyable as it can be.

And MGH, unique to all other blood donor centers I've contributed at, will send me an email with the subject line "You Just Saved Lives!". Two or three weeks later, presumably when some amount of paperwork has been sorted out and tracked and etc.

Today I have eaten breakfast, and gone to a dull meeting, and worked with a bunch of students, and archived some emails. And saved someone's life. Helped another human who was at risk of peril, of death, of griveious bodily harm, and made it better for them.

It's a fucking fantastic email to get. It is something that I think will never _ever_ get old. What did you do today Kat? I saved someone's life. Bam.

Anyways, I'm eligable again in June so I'm probably gonna aim for that week of July where I'm not at Pinewoods. Anyone who wants to join me, drop me a line. I'm happy to hold your hand (metaphorically or literally) for any part of it you need. You too could save lives.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Maximum is six times a year, optimal would probably be about four, I've never managed more than three times in the same calendar year, and in 2023 I think I only donated once.

2: WHICH HAS UPDATED TO BE GENDER NEUTRAL HOLY SHIT. I fuckin' _cried_ this most recent time because _they actually want my queer blood_.

3: This most recent time I learned that a patent ductus arteriosus repair is maybe the only heart problem that you *can* still donate blood after.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Hullo friends! I have been writing lots of accomplishment posts, but I don't think I have written very much regular posts recently. Here are some disconnected random things about me right now!

***

Somewhere in the very recent past, I decided that Now That I'm Thirty1, I no longer give a shit whether Those Dudes think I'm a bitch or not. This has involved me speaking up a little more in various places, and then wandering off as soon as I get bored, because unlike some dudes, I have sufficient self-control to not keep showing off my ass to the entire damn world. It's *great*. Not caring if Those Dudes think I'm rude is the *best* and I highly recommend it.

It is all made better by the presence of my trusted Partner in Petty, my darling baby sister who gets all the screencaps I think are too hilarious not to share. Anyways, if you're worried about incurring my wrath, it's pretty easy not to: if someone calls you out for doing something iffy, suppress whatever your knee-jerk reaction is, go somewhere else, think for a while, and then come back. Sure, sometimes they might be Objectively Wrong. But we all benefit from more time to consciously think before posting.

***

I've wandered back into doing Highland on the semi-reg, which is working out pretty damn well for me. It turns out Serious Aerobic Exercise Wot Gets Your Heart Going is good for a body and soul. Even if I remain terrible at it and it is very frustrating.

Possibly related to the point above, I have been getting better at saying to Robert "hey, you need to teach this differently for me to learn it" (which almost always is "much more slowly please", and occasionally is just "no I don't have questions, I just literally need to practice it thirty times in a row please and thanks".)

ANYways, I've almost got most of Bonnie Dundee, as long as you ignore the arms entirely. And tonight! TONIGHT WE STARTED THE JIG! Okay, so like, there's a very small number of actual "Highland" dances that get done in competition and stuff. Then there's a whole bunch of "National" dances. I'm not very good at remembering which are which beside the really obvious ones.

There are two competition dances that you don't get to do AT ALL as a beginner, because they are Too Hard. They are the Hornpipe and the Jig and they basically are the two MOST AWESOME Highland dances. They have very different feels to everything else (Jig especially, which is meant as a giant angry Irish stereotype and all the movement is so precise) and if we're gonna be working on Jig in the near future I'm gonna pull out all the stops to actually make it to practice!

***

My bike has a big fucking hole in the tyre, such that you can see the big fucking hole in the toob. No one likes this, least of all me. I need to figure out how to get my bicycle to quadbikes, which is all the fuck in Harvard. Everything is Very Sad And Dramatic.

On the plus side, I saw Neil the other night at dance (!!!!!!!) and he mentioned they still have my other bike, which I left there like a year ago and thought I'd lost to the ADHD tax. So that's exciting! Just have to get my shit together! Big time shit together!!!

***

In general, Becoming Effective is possibly working in a very small way? I just described it to Dragon as "it's slow but it is going" and that's pretty accurate.

The accomplishment posts are probably really good for me, although they feel cluttery on the page. Maybe I will revitalize my old "SorSpeaksWords" guilt-free spam-journal. Or at least start putting them under cuts? I dunno.

I hate everything about progress, apparently. Also the sleep part is absolute crap. This week I'm pretending that if I focus instead on drinking enough water it won't matter.

Hope you are well!

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I am older than 29.5, I can start rounding! Although seriously, mostly due to my distaste with societal pressure for people (especially women) to lie about their age and "29" being the age to quote, I have been going with "almost thirty" the entire year, because I'm much more into that.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Wayyyy back in 2000, I played in my first LARP.

I mean, okay, I was a prop and a game baby in multiple LARPs in the '89-92ish range, and I remember being at Oscars '96 and Arabian Nights '99 (the latter of which dad scrawled me a little handmade unofficial badge about halfway through the weekend because I kept participating and stuff). But Oscars 2000 was my Very First LARP in terms of being given a character ahead of time and playing the whole weekend and being old enough to actually for realsies participate.

I played actress Mallory Tyrone, who was your standard bratty coming-of-age child actress. Somewhere I have all my notes and everything --I'm pretty sure I never got rid of them. My character packet for the weekend included a list of contacts and some out-of-game mechanics stuff, and a list of goals --things to strive for! I achieved very nearly all of them, because I'm a perfectionist damnit (and also because I was eleven and my daddy was one of the game masters and I probably wasn't given anything too arduous to achieve.)

One of those goals was to get signed with an agent! Now, I-as-person already had an agent (my mom's friend Butler is the agent to all three of us kids, as declared at Oscars '96). But Mallory Tyrone had no such thing! With all the brashness and confidence I could muster, I set forth to finding such a beast! I met a very nice woman (who in real life had a couple of kids within a few years age of me and my sibs) and she agreed to represent me, and by the end of the weekend, we had hashed out a contract and everything.

In my contract, I specified a very important stipulation: While on set, I was to have pasta every night for dinner. By which I pretty much meant "some kind of pasta, possibly filled, with tomato sauce, and ideally shake-cheese on top." The dreams of eleven year olds, amIrite? Forget important things like how much money I'd make or whether I have to do topless scenes, I just wanted to make sure I had access to my favourite dinner every night.

I am now 28 years old. I have very little Mallory Tyrone left in me1. But you know what? I've eaten chicken tortellini with tomato sauce for lunch every day this week. I am not sick of it. I do not feel like I'm missing out. There's a very good chance I'll make another batch for lunches next week.

I've long since lost track of that agent, but you know what? That's okay. Katarina Whimsy can make their own dreams come true.

And it's awesome.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Although I still collect autographs whenever remotely possible or reasonable. And I'm still willing to be the one to ask people out --one of the goals was to have a date to the Oscars event on Saturday night, and by god if I didn't find the only boy remotely my age and stumble through the most delightfully awkward eleven year old "SO THIS IS TOTALLY JUST IN GAME, BUT WANNA BE MY DATE IN GAME?!" My brain wants to say he gave me a flower, or a kiss on the cheek, or something equally twee when we met up, but that may just be the storyteller in me.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
There is a forward to the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy specifically on the subject of having adventures. It says: Don't. Ever. While you may think you would enjoy gallivanting across planets, running away from the worst the universe has to offer, outsmarting, outbluffing, and outfighting aliens from a hundred thousand million different races, the truth is most people much prefer to stay at home, or in a nice well-made spaceship, and drink a good cup of tea.

But if you can't get the tea, you might as well.


Every once in a great while, I am driven to reread something I have written, and I find that I can be an _excellent and enjoyable writer_! Which is not to say I wouldn't take an editor's sledgehammer to my works, but it's very reassuring to find reminders that I Don't Suck at this, I just need to get my damn act together and DO THE THING.

The above quote is from my Hitchhiker's Fanfic, The Cold Sands of Anatidae. It is fluffy, and cute, and quite rough in points -again, sledgehammer. And just enough of it gets the voice entirely right that I think my H2G2 peeps should go read it, even though it's several years old at this point.

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
TW: Allusions to rapist/sexual abuse

My dreams last night were long and had an impressive narrative, where I (and so many others) were trapped in a prison-slavepen-hunger games potential-space of doom. Most of the dream dealt with me running about, trying to avoid the evil overlord and save everyone.

And then at the end, I had returned home -to my parents home! I walk upstairs to my bedroom, with maybe someone like Veronica at my side, a close friend who I'd rescued, and all I want is to just flop about and relax after my ordeal but no, sitting in my room is my asshole rapist ex.

I raged. I ordered them out of my room, despite their pleas to be heard, despite their bullshit apologies --at one point they were apologizing for something that was awkward between us (they had stood me up on a date?) and I pretty much exploded at them and told them I didn't hate them because they stood me up that one time, I hated them because they had routinely raped and abused me.

I remember in the dream the idea that my parents would come help me kick them out, and I also remember deciding (lucidly?) that no, my parents would wait, and have my back, but I was more than capable of doing my own kicking out.

And that's how it went. The dreams are getting stronger, so am I. I've never said pointblank to my rapist "you raped me" --too much emotional abuse tangling the wound. But if they ever forced their way back into my world, oh, you bet those words'd be out of my mouth, directly after "fuck off" and directly preceding "bye now".

(and to end this post on a nicely dark note, isn't it ironic that the one person I've ever had who most wanted me to think of them every day got their wish?)

~Sor
MOOP!

TW: Allusions to rapist/sexual abuse.
sorcyress: Just a picture of my eye (Me-Eye)
Sometimes I come back, in 2024, and write additional content warnings even if they're only for myself. This one's hard, love. But it's also actually really really awesome. I'm really proud of you, kiddo. You have done amazing things.

I'm gonna go through this in chunks. The stuff in [blockquotes] is what he originally wrote to me.

Do I feel guilty about putting his private words up for people to see? Oh hell no. In truth, it feels rather delightfully vindictive, empowering almost. False words have little power when others are given opportunity to refute them.

yay words )

So that's the e-mail. I might have even more thoughts later, but I think getting these down are a good start.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I have a saying in my head "If I'd Said Yes", which I've been meaning to turn into an essay for months now. But in essence?

If I had said yes to kSatyr and I having intercourse, because he pressured me and guilted me and manipulated me and I as just so fucking tired of always and constantly saying no, that yes would've been rape.

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sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Katarina Whimsy

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