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!

Today has been a pretty good day!

I am in Providence for the weekend, more'n a month since the last time Tuesday and I got to spend any time together. So that's already very very nice, just being able to be warm and cozy with someone I love. We had exactly one plan for the entire visit, and we've already done it, so the rest of tonight and all tomorrow is just about hanging out together and doing lovely nothing.

The one plan was a ~gondola ride~. She won it from an event she went to: a two ticket private ride up and down the river that runs through the center of town. We packed a blanket and a charcuterie board and wandered down to the dock, holding hands as we walked through the streets. The weather was...not as perfect as hoped, but between the walls of the river and the blanket, we were downright cozy.

Gondola came with two gondoliers, who sang songs, shared historical information, and generally contributed to the overall positive tenor of the ride. It also came with yummy "wine biscuits", which were sweet little cookies, and a nice counter to some of the more salty/savoury cheeses and meats we'd packed.

The singing was an absolute highlight, especially because they kept doing it under bridges --the final song was under a long stretch of road, the only bit remaining from when PVD paved over its river, and there was something beautifully eerie about being in this dark space, between the water and the road, and hearing her voice echoing across and around us. Makes me want to write fae shit, mostly.

It had cooled down considerably by the end, so we thanked the gondaliers and scampered home, Tuesday wrapped in the blanket, me turtled into my hoodie. Once home we were able to do other plans, which meant mostly playing separate video games together (I learned I'd been ignoring a Very Important part of the Necrodancer lobby, which made beating stage 2 suddenly MUCH more possible, Tuesday successfully killed her dad in Hades). Eventually, we forced ourselves back towards being productive, working on or grading papers, as is our wont (it is not our want).

We got food eventually and I slept a bunch while Tuesday worked, and soon we will go to bed all snuggled up warm. I'm pleased with these plans.

~Sor
MOOP!

I find it interesting my internal classifications of "crush" and "other assorted romantic-sexual-moirailic feelings towards someone". Because you would think that I would apply most recipients of the latter category to the former word --If I feel more than platonic towards you, I have a crush, right? Well...not exactly.

Because part of having a crush involves that fluttery teenaged feeling of "ooo, do they really like me?!" All the traditional teeny-bopper bullshit, and that's part of what makes crushes great! It's fun to feel jittery and curious and interested and spend time over-interpreting every little word and gesture and touch.

But there are some people who I don't have to do that for. There are people who I can know, without doubt, that they like me --maybe just platonically, but they are decidedly interested in hanging out with me and talking to me and touching me. And when I become more-than-platonic interested in those people, I don't get the fluttery "do-they-don't-they?" feeling in the base of my spine. I get a strong dose of just plain joy from being with them. I like hanging out with them, I like talking to them and hugging them and entering gleeful philosophical arguments or getting advice or whatever comes my way. Sure, sometimes I can get that flutter, but if my brain enters "oo, I LIKE like them!" mode, my first instinct is not to overanalyze, but to straight up say "yo, you're a babe, let's shag."

(Or more accurately, to analyze them and their current situation, and whether or not they are poly or polyfriendly, and whether or not they are associated with someone(s), and if I could or could not deal with those associates¹, and where they live, and how often they dance and how well we communicate, and a few other factors that would be a bit too revealing to actually post here. If they meet my Rigorous Testing³, then I toss out a "so, I'm interested, you interested? Let's talk about it lots and lots!", and things go from there. Shagging usually takes much longer to get around to⁴.)

I think a lot of the difference falls into friendship, and how close I am with the person initially, but some of the difference is certainly the difference between relationships that I am playing for endgame, and relationships that I am playing transiently. When I say "playing for endgame", I don't mean Twoo Wuv Everlasting and six kids and a picket fence, necessarily. I just mean that I am fully intending for this brilliant person to be in my life for the rest of time, in some capacity or another. Maybe they will be just a (varying⁵) close friend, maybe they will be a reoccurring sexual partner, maybe they will be a romantic partner, maybe they really will be the coparent of my eventual children.

My transient (more often referred to as "casual") relationships do not carry that weight within them. I would like to know these people for a long time --I am usually pretty good about not being attracted (in the sense of friendship as well as moreship) to jerkasses, and I like keeping nifty people in my life. But they feel more like the secondary characters of my play, something to look back fondly at and say "oh yes, we had that glorious BDSM dynamic our last semester of school" or "he's the only uncut cock I've ever had the pleasure of playing with" or even just "we talked so much in person that our chatlogs were able to be nothing more than pages of entertaining links from Tumblr"⁷.

So when I am interested in a person who I know or suspect will drift away somehow (grad school, awesome new job on the other coast, other relationship turning into The Serious One...in a few more years, I suspect "babies" and "wedding planning" will be pretty thoroughly on this list), my feelings tend to be more ephemeral. And ephemeral, not-so-serious thoughts are just great for crushing on someone, because it gives me a chance to be giddy and get out my newness fetish on them without worrying significantly about how I am going to restructure my life (even subtly) to make sure that person is always in it.

(Plus, my newness fetish -which is totally kinda a thing? Like, I pretty much always and forever have *someone* I've got NewToyEnergy or NewDesire for- works really well with time-limited relationships. Oh, you're mono and just waiting to find the one? Happy to play in the meantime!)

Anyways, I don't have anything else to say really. This is a pretty clear example of writing to suss out my own thoughts. Thanks for joining me.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: It is to my moderate shock that I realize I won't date someone if I find their other partners difficult to deal with. This is a bit depressing --I tend to compartmentalize my relationships-- but I've seen enough variety in the last five years of being some sort of polybeast to note the differences between "you make my partner happy and that makes me happy keep making my partner happy YAY!" and "I hate your stupid face you homewrecking slutcookie"². The latter kinda sucks, and the mutual partner has to work damn hard to make up for that sort of bullshit. I would prefer to save everyone the work by just not getting involved.

2: I thought briefly about putting in some actual (paraphrased) quotes/actions from various metamours in the past, but that would probably turn out mean, and I try not to be bitter or spiteful on livejournal. So these are extremes, neither of which I have actually explicitly heard or reached.

3: Not actually rigorous, certainly not a formal test.

4: Things that entertain me: One of my earlier partners and I were curled up platonic in a bed when they mentioned that they were into me, and I revealed that I was pretty into them. Something on the order of two hours later we actually got around to kissing. Sigh!

5: It pains me to note that, since exiting high school, I have very few people with whom I have enjoyed the same degree of closeness for more than a few years. I have had several very close friends⁶ (some of whom I termed best friend but none of whom quite matched up with Veronica), but I often tend to go for accidental months without communication towards the people I care about. This is a pretty major failing on my part and I don't know how to fix it. It frustrates me that I can have a year where I spend thousands of words on IM with someone, followed by a year where there is...nothing.

6: Since college, jere7my is probably the person who I have had the most consistent friendship with. He is absolutely one of my best friends in the world (because *someone* has to yell at me for not knowing songs that came out before I was born, and MrBelm is busy doing that for He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Ignored, I'm sure) and that's been pretty consistently true since I met him in early aught-eight.

7: Match the relationship to the person! No, do not really. Anyways, all three of these are people who I *love* getting to see again, and truly hope to stay in some touch with for the rest of time. But I'm not always as good as I should be about keeping in touch with them outside of those sporadic meetings, due to distance or time constraints or just plain ol' drift.

It's that awful moment when you realize two weeks has somehow turned into thirty-six hours.

Everything is unfair and I demand more time, but ah, that's how it always goes.

~Sor
MOOP!

Happy New Years.

It's seven AM, new year's day. Twelve hours ago, I was at work, closing the shop. An hour later, I was at a party that was...not right, but close enough. There were many people I am fond of, and I spent a New Years playing games, which is a thing that never happened before --usually the number of people I want to spend time with far exceeds the amount of time I have. But with six people around a table, I felt rather that was perfect. And I lost at everything.

(But I was a smart-ass in Innovation, and I lost better than Pi did at the bumper cars game. *My* car had no points AND crashed into the wall. He merely had a score of zero.)

We counted down to midnight, all slammed together into the basement. I kissed many people fewer this year than I usually do, and none on the lips. That was the first thing that felt very strange about this year, and will most likely not be the last.

I had a need to pull away, just after, and I trailed upstairs where I could take photos in the mirror (including one for my mother that I will send her). Then I went outside to get another drink, and the mission was very simple and very clear. I would find a star and wish on it, the first wish of a new year.

Of course I won't tell you what I wished for.

It's not what I wanted to wish for, because that want was(is) frivolous, and this wish was(is) important. But I made my wish, and stood for a moment, and whispered happy new year to the blackness. And then there were tears on my cheeks and I knew, very hard, that I should distract myself before I started sobbing.

So I went back inside, and spent an hour or two talking to interesting people. I left concurrent with one of them, and he invited me back to his place (a few blocks away) for hot chocolate. Being as it's a proven fact you can lure the Sorcyress with hot drinks, I followed him home, and we spent several hours chatting and drinking rather well-made chocolate. I approve.

I biked home just a few minutes ago --downhill most of the way, and the only tricky bit was going through Powderhouse circle. And now I am home, and theoretically I should sleep, but in all honesty...I'm not ready to. I feel really quite awake, be it adrenaline or enthusiasm. Were I a truly organized sort, I'd be finding some high place to watch the sunrise, but let's face it, that's a difficult attempt in this city.

And just now, sitting here, it has occurred to me the solution to my problems. I am hurt that I will not spend the night of New Years sleeping between two people who love me, who I love. Fine. There's an easy way to fix that.

I will not sleep.

The holiday was very different, and there were things unspoken I wish could have found voice. I miss my mother. I miss all I love. I miss you, whoever you are, reading this tonight.

But I am happy, and I think that maybe if 2011 was a wonderful year than 2012 will be as well. And maybe if 2011 was horrible, 2012 will just be better.

Happy New Years, cats and kotchkas. Be well and know I love you.

~Sor Kyress
MOOP!

For possibly the first year, I made a point to talk to every one of my boys in person, easy with the two in attendance, harder with the three I had to reach only by phone.

It's harder to say whether the unexpected "I love you too" or the unexpected "That is all (except to say I love you)" made me tear up harder. I am _so_ lucky, over and over and over again.

New Years is my holiday for loved ones, it occurs to me, forget Valentines and all the associated frip. This will be the fourth straight year that I fall asleep far too late, curled between two¹ of my boys, and I don't think I'd have it any other way (I've no idea of what happens once I've got a New Years with three of them in attendance!)

And of course, New Years is for friends too, and I spent the night surrounded by those of mine and mom's. There were games, and a post-sunset walk, and much cuddling and scritches and laughing and joking and just...being with people I adore. I lost at Family Business and Guillotine, but I won at least a game or two of Shadow Hunters, and I got to "help" in a lovely round or two of TransAmerica. Lovely games, with lovely people.

Tomorrow of course will be more of that. You're all invited. Even those of you who are going to travel from Boston to make it.

I have some thoughts to better myself over the new year, continue writing, perhaps even focusing my attentions into a new project --I'd like to see if I could have the discipline to maintain it. You'll all hear of it in March, if I seem to be able to do it well, or never, if I seem not.

I'd like to continue bettering my language. Jokingly, I was telling people my resolution was to replace all swears with the word "smurf". I want to get over my demons, I want to know all my demons, so I know what I have to fight. I want to get up each morning with my alarm.

Truly, what I want most is to keep being wonderful, and for each and every one of you to keep being wonderful as well. I am so blessed to know the people I know, and so happy to have them be a part of my life, even the ones who fade or I don't see as often. You are a wonder and you all make me proud to be alive and human and a part of this great creation.

Have a smurfing fantastic 2011.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Okay, 09/10 was one of my boys and one of my wishes the night of, and two of my boys the next couple nights after that, but close enough, shh. And yes, technically 07/08 was none of my boys, just two people who I _very much wanted_ to be my boys. Both of whom were by the end of the month. Fear me, as appropriate.

Damn.

Damn.

So, on my way to the Regency Assembly, I lost my white collared shirt. This is a pain in the ass, but not the end of the world --it's hard to find white button-down shirts in my size, but not impossible.

In my costume putting-together the night before, I had tucked a little red duct tape rose into the pocket of that shirt --it's not visible in any of the pictures, just a little something for myself. In scouring my room for that rose, I realize...I don't think I ever took it out of the pocket of my shirt.

Yeah.

I'm tryin' real hard not to start crying. Happy morning, everyone. :/

~Sor
MOOP!

ETA 2010-12-15: Oh! This story has a happy ending!

Some sundries that I have found entertaining lately:

*Jane Austen's Fight Club is the current best thing on YouTube. Cosplaying Fanny might just be enough to get me into a Regency gown. Pass the bruise make-up, please. (Warning, a little violent, girls hitting girls. It's fight club with Regency dresses.)

*A Skeptic's View of Love, which should be required reading for everyone that gets all moony about the fact that, when you meet your TWOO WUV FOREVER, you will instantly be in love with them and that's that.

I honestly find it *more* romantic to consider that good relationships are not based on some emphereal concept of a soulmate (hint: I have yet to find someone who meets all my myriad and occasionally contradicting needs --if I have a soulmate, I have not yet met them) as much as they are based on shared experiences and revealing the hidden layers of yourself to your partner. But I'm far more practical than romantic, most days.

*Superheroes vs the Westb*r* B*ptist Ch*rch --from Comicon, so you've probably already seen it.

*Legend of Neil has started its third season! Decidedly NSFW, but fairly hilarious regardless! For the unknowing, it's a web-series that consists of this dude Neil who...um...accidentally transported himself into the game "Legend of Zelda" somehow. And by somehow, like I said, NSFW. It's funny, and stars Felicia Day as the fairy, and I'm glad they got their third season, since I really like web-based media.

( And one last that I'm hiding under the cut for being textually, um...risque. )

YAY STUFF!

~Sor
MOOP!

Eight words, he gave me.

Eight words, written in pen, on an index card. With a date, and a signature.

Tucked into an alcove not far from Looney Labs, at Origins this year. Which, let's face it, honestly kinda sucked, and sure, there were games and there was fun, and people I don't get to see very often, but it sucked, and I spent an awful lot of time getting out of the way of the rest of the world and crying.

But somehow he figured out that that was happening, and caught me alone and made me tell and held me. I don't get held very often, not when I need it, and every time it happens it is the most wondrous and kind and loving gesture in the world, and the idea that someone would be willing to give that to me is often not an idea that can actually be believed, not at all.

And he held me, and he wrote eight words, and he gave them to me. And with them, he gave me something I need sometimes --the memory of someone who cares. The memory of someone who not only cares, but cares enough to leave his other social obligations behind for a bit, because somehow he knows I'm not able to ask him to leave them.

(Because I'm not able to ask him to leave them. I'm not ever able to ask anyone to leave their other friends, lovers, family for me, even for a moment. They have just a much of a right to your time, maybe more, and I can't go to the two of you and ask just for one.)

So it's that hug, and it's another hug, from later in the visit. In my bedroom, curled on my bed, and letting me confess the secrets the secrets that I don't confess, not ever, and certainly not in person, without barriers and barriers of words and screens and keyboards between us to protect me. It's two hugs, and it's eight words.

And I think maybe that might be enough for me to know I'll be okay. I'm crying now, I'll probably BE crying for a while still, and damned if I've an idea why. I'm not okay, I'm not even stable. I'm sure as hell not happy. But two hugs means I can pretend to a lifetime more, and eight words means I am loved.

And I think that means it'll all work out in the end.

MOOP!