MurderHobo.Club

Category: Musings

Rambling thoughts

  • ships sunk.

    This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve opened a window and stared at the page, trying to clean up my thoughts into words. The last few times I’ve decided to install Linux or browse Facebook instead of actually writing.

    I’m having a hard time expressing myself because I don’t consider my current concerns to have high stakes. They are meaningless in the bigger picture. Petty and small, yet somehow they are still managing to cripple me.

    Not to long ago, I looked at a thread on reddit asking people why they were really single. While I thought about what my answer would be, I scanned through the list, plenty of people with answers along the same lines as mine would have been. Obviously I’m not alone in being alone.

    A friend was trying to help me with my OK cupid profile the other day. She’d found a great guy on there, and figures I should be able to have the same luck.

    I appreciate her support, but a big part of the problem is that while I’m lonely, I’m not sure how ready I am to actually be involved with anyone.

    A few months back I met someone from the site and we got along well. It seemed like it was something, but suddenly it was gone. Before that I think I’d made various attempts at dating, but my recollections aren’t overly clear.

    I know at one point I’d thought I had chemistry with someone at a kink event and then been told that the person didn’t have time for any other relationships in their life. Not long after, that same person started complaining in her FetLife status posts about a lack of sadists in her life. At that point, I could have approached her, I could have commented on it, or a few other tactics. Instead, I removed her from my friends list, as it was my discomfort that was the issue.

    Perhaps that is a cowardly way of dealing with the issue, I likely would have considered it that a few years back. On the other hand, it was my problem. I was the one bothered by what was communicated and I had no real investment in the “friendship”, so best to move on.

    Is this a pattern of avoidance on my part? There is one girl that I’ve been talking to for a year or more, who I originally tried to help get out of an abusive relationship. We’ve hung out a few times, talked about it going somewhere, but it hasn’t gone past teasing. She also has an fwb who she is loyal to, but who doesn’t seem to deserve that loyalty. From what she has said, their relationship has violated her boundaries a few times, and she’s accepted it. It bothers me. She showed me what he got her for Christmas. That was a wake-up call for me. I’ve told her that I’m going to be distant for a while, that I’m probably going to be getting more distant. It bothers me that someone I am fond of is taking part of something that makes her sad.

    I’m sure I could talk longer about this, but I’ve run out of time for now.

    Back from dinner with the family, attempting to recover my train of thought.

    I have a handful of people that I’ve managed to open up to, but the amount I’ve opened up has probably been reshaped over the last few years. It’s probably deceptively shallow, in that the stuff I’ve gotten comfortable with has gotten broader, but the specific details have faded away.

    Apparently my psyche is best compared to a bog at this point. Random patches of solid ground surrounded by a mess of unstable soil, punctuated with random sink holes.

    The girl I’d mentioned earlier got upset with me for posting about her, rather than talking to her about the issue. I posted about it because I’m trying to understand the pattern that I’m going through. It was about her, but only in as much as she was someone who was there for it. The bigger issue, the thing I was writing about, was how I was handling things. Rather than making an attempt to compete, I’m backing down and wandering off.

    I’ve been doing that lately, but it’s also something I picked up a while ago. I don’t see the point in competing for people. Part of it is that people aren’t prizes, so competing for them isn’t something I’m comfortable with anymore. Part of it is that I’ve gotten a negative view of my own self worth.

  • Good news, but bad feelings

    I should be in a good place. I’ve got a job that I like and that I’m good at. I’ve got friends that I enjoy spending time with. I’ve got interesting projects that I’m working on. I have been getting a good night’s sleep most nights. My back isn’t bothering me, nor is my bad knee.

    And yet I’m not. I’m aware that I’m in this weird downward spiral of negativity. I don’t know how to get out of it. I’m fully aware of it, but nothing seems to help.

    I should get out and exercise more, maybe that will help. I took a walk today, maybe I’ll have time for one before work tomorrow.

    I attempted to make connections with people, attempted to find someone on a dating site, but that just leads to me doubting myself and my value. Not to mention the random blows to my ego that come from just being on a dating site.

    The whole dating site concept bothers me. I was having a conversation with someone on one of the sites, she asked for some info. I provided her with the information and a few days later asked if she’d had time to read it. Her response was that she that she had over 100 messages in her inbox, so she’d get back to me eventually. That’s great. I’m sure part of it is the whole shiny newbie fresh meat thing, but it’s also the fact that there are always plenty of men on dating sites, and from what I’ve seen, the majority of them are eager to find something. Hell, some would argue even desperate.

    When it comes down to it, it’s a signal to noise ratio issue. And I don’t have a clue how to build an amp, and I certainly can’t help anyone install a filter. I suppose the best I can do is look for alternative channels.

     

  • Sweet Revenge.

    Sometimes, you find a certain pocket of reality, a sweet spot in the the slipstream of fate. It’s a delicate little hollow, that you can only know by feeling the disruptions along the edges. As long as you ride with it, everything works. I had one of those nights tonight.  

  • 404 – Lost and Found.

    I glance down at my phone. Its 4:04. Having spent far too much of my life online, the first thought that crosses my mind is 404, file not found. Then I start to reflect on my circumstances.

    I have a place that I reside. It isn’t home, but it’s the place where I’ve spent the last decade and where I’ll likely spend the next decade. It should be home, it has all the elements of a home. Somehow there’s something missing. Most likely its only in my head.

    Home is where the heart is, the cliche says. In that case I’ve no idea where home is, as I’ve long ago lost track of my heart.

    On some level, I moved my home online years ago, when I found a community out there that I was comfortable with. And as the new shiny stripped away the oldbies, singly or in batches, that feeling of home faded into nostalgia. So with nothing to hold me to that place, I’d go wander the back alleys of the global village, looking for another quiet virtual corner to hang up my hat in.

    The problem with the net is the disconnect that some people have between their meatspace and wirehopper faces.

    For whatever reason, I grew out of that distinction. I suspect its because I have no faith in my ability to project a persona that would appeal to people. Rather than trying to appear as someone more likeable, I just accept that I’ll be misunderstood and embrace my inner curmudgeon. Some people will disagree that I qualify as such, but I think when it comes down to it, I’ve got it down. I want people to do the right thing, but I expect them to act like selfish idiots. I’d like to be proven wrong, but more often than not, they’ll make a choice that’ll make me silently shake my head.

    That’s not to say I’ve lost my ability to be silly. Just that my internal auditor has slid his chair closer to my inner ear and he’s making sure he’s heard over the other impulses lurking there.

    This seems to result that people see me as more stern and disapproving than I would want to be.

  • Yet More Netrunner.

    There’s a tournament at Starlit on Saturday. Dimestore and I signed up for it. However, he’s got a couple’s day with his wife instead, so I’ll be going in solo. This tournament has a special prize for flatlines, so I’m working on a killer deck for a change. I’m a bit stumped on ice balance currently. I’ll probably work and rework it for a few hours tonight.

    After the tournament, there’s two options depending on the timing. Make an effort to go check out the local vampire LARP or relax for a bit. I’ve got a birthday party later that night, so that’s where I’ll eventually be, unless I start feeling antisocial again. Though I’ll probably show up as I bought the host a present and so I should go at least to deliver that. I think in theory it’s something he’ll enjoy, but perhaps I’m wrong.

    Monday I helped friends move. Showed up with a cargo van, we loaded it to the gills, drove over, unloaded it. Rinse and Repeat. No major hassles, no injuries. A couple squished fingers but no blood for a change.

    Afterwards, the timing worked out for me to hit up the local ingress cross faction meetup, something I haven’t done for ages. I probably haven’t done it since I got this job, if not perhaps a bit longer. Given that I tend to only have a weekday night free a week and I’ve had a backlog of social obligations to work through. But, I was parking the moving van nearby that night, and the food there is decent, so I dropped in to be social. A few people were glad to see me, a few people didn’t know me, and a few people were weird. But that’s no surprise. I learned a few things, and I had a few beer. Interesting flavors. That is the one benefit of eating there, you can usually find a tasty brew to go with your meal.

    Things got a bit uncomfortable for me when a former friend showed up. I thought about leaving, but I’d already made plans with Dimestore for him to swing through on his way home to grab a datapack from me, so I decided to stick around. For the most part, it was clear we weren’t at the same table. When Dimestore showed up, I pointed out that he was there, they said hello and had a nice conversation. Mildly interesting, since this friend had cut ties with Dimestore and I at the same time, since my stubbornness was obviously contagious. Anyways, it was uncomfortable for me, and I almost regretted that I’d made an effort to extend an olive branch the week prior, even though it was the right thing to do. I was relieved that despite my efforts and the obvious advantages of the situation for him, he’d decided not to bother with it.

    Then Tuesday, I saw that someone had started making an attempt to make the geek community a better place in Vancouver. And I thought that would be great. Until I saw that they’d tainted the well already. I’m sure they had the best of intentions, but inviting the rather defensive girlfriend of a man who abuses the word community for his own profit into the group meant to repair the community… I just can’t see that turning out in a positive manner. Given his actions regarding Zombiewalk and various other things, I’m uncomfortable dealing with him. I’ve burnt out on it. I talked to the guy who’d done the inviting for the group and the guy who’d started the group, let them know that for health reasons, I’m not interested in being involved. My experiences with that individual have been so toxic that probability of his involvement was enough to make me not want to be involved, to avoid that ugliness in my life.

    I’m torn between ranting about him further or just trying to put the whole thing out of my mind. On one hand, if I rant, it has the potential for people to understand where I’m coming from, balanced against the potential for him to use my writing against my friends who still deal with him. On the whole, it’s probably healthier to just put it out of my head. Except this is my place, so I should be able to write what I want here. Eh, I’ll just leave it for now.

    Afterwards, I was looking into some of the symptoms of PTSD, as someone in my extended social network had been interested in the job opening here, but had mentioned he had some doubts about taking the job while he was still sorting out his PTSD and his treatment. I noticed that the symptoms for PTSD match up with what I’ve been experiencing. It’s something I need to examine and it’s resulted in me doing some reflecting.

    As far as I can recall, there aren’t really any specific events that would qualify as traumatic in my life. My childhood was pretty alienated and I have some issues with betrayal and belief, but there are specific major incidents, just a variety of times when things were rough.

    I posted on my facebook that I was beginning to consider the idea that I was dealing with something that had similar symptoms to a mild form of PTSD, and that it was related to my dealings with the Zombiewalk and goth drama. I was vaguebooking, something I hate to do, but after the lecture I received last Saturday for going into too much detail, it seemed reasonable. In response, I got told off for comparing my bullshit to being in a war or being raped. Obviously my traumas weren’t severe enough for me to qualify for even a mild form of something similar to PTSD. My response was hostility and I opened a chat with the person, explaining to them that they really didn’t understand the whole story, and I was trying to work through something, not trying to whine. Apparently the hostility came across pretty strongly, as they got rather upset and wanted to end the conversation, since they felt I was bullying them.

    Yes, I was bullying them for responding to a negative comment on my facebook page. Well, I guess that’s how the internet works.

    Maybe it’s a case of my words being chosen poorly, or coming across hyperbolic. Maybe the symptoms only fit because of a psychological version of hypochondria. I do know that I have some things that are pretty nasty triggers for me, and that I need to sort them out. Not dealing with them is probably partially responsible for my current state of isolation.

    I read something interesting about the Sexodus and male responses to feminism tonight, and I’d intended to comment on it, but I’m already over my 1K words and it’s nearly time to catch my bus so that’ll have to wait for another entry.

  • icandy

    This is just a stream of thoughts and impressions that I’ll use to write up a review later for Erotic Vancouver.

    Markus had advertised the event as being more pub like than club like, but I think I misunderstood what he meant by that. Its got similar lighting as the last time I was here. I was expecting a little brighter and a bit more mellow. Attempting to play board games here will be tricky. Certain games might work, but the random ones I brought with me probably require a brighter and quieter space to work. King of Tokyo, I could see working.

    Some people sat down and picked up my copy of cards against humanity, that I had sitting at the table in front of me, without asking. I could care, but as that copy has been through hell, I’m not overly concerned. I’m wondering how long it’ll be before they think to ask, or they touch something else on the pile.

    The pile currently consists of One Night Ultimate Werewolf, Arctic Scavengers and my neon wand. Funny that they picked the item I care least about.

    A friend came up and started chatting. I mentioned the games, and the people didn’t seem to realise they were being rude. And now others have come over and asked about it and the male of the pair is explaining the game as if it was his own copy. I find this a mix of amusement and irritation. I’m pondering why someone would feel that touching another person’s toys is acceptable, even if the toys are board games. In the geek world, the general awareness of the value of a collection acts as a deterrent to most people touching without permission. It is possible that the lack of awareness of the value is a factor. It is likely that they have assumed that the games were provided by the venue. Not a terrible idea, but a bit of an assumption. It fits with the behaviour that was commented on previously with regards to patrons and the magic wands.

    Offhand, I can’t think of how our hosts might deal with this assumption. I think such assumptions should be rare in a place focused on consent culture, as the default permission should be assumed to be the negative.

    They haven’t managed to start a game of CaH, or clean up the game that they started. They’ve gotten engaged in some conversation with the couple that had approached them and used the game as an ice breaker. Its mildly amusing that it served that purpose. And mildly annoying that it was used in such a way without being respected.

    Then again, I’m at a fetish event and I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I don’t exactly fit in. Perhaps its made me invisible.

    Except of course to those who know me, most of whom seem to be wearing volunteer badges tonight, at least so far.

    The music works, its nice mellow jazz, but its a bit drowned out by all the people. I suspect its just the acoustics of the place. I wonder if some baffles would help create the impression of greater intimacy by shaping the conversations into tighter spaces.

    I was expecting to be able to find some electrical sockets where I had found them last time, but unfortunately they don’t seem to be accessible this time. Removes option of the neon wand in the lounge area, something that was great fun at the Mad Hatter party.

    —

    Markus and VanJoe managed to find me an electrical cord, so now I have the neon wand going.

    —

    Spent about an hour demonstrating electricity via direct and indirect methods. People would randomly come up to me and ask to give it a try. It was nice to educate people.

    Overall, the neon wand was a hit again.

    At some point, they killed the music and brought out a comedian. The acoustics worked against him, and the crosschatter drowned out most of his act, if you weren’t over by where he was standing.

    In theory, linking his mic to some of the other speakers could fix this problem, but I’m not sure that would help, as part of a comedian’s performance is visual. Alternatively, shaping the acoustics to isolate the areas better could create more of a feeling of different spaces.

    At this point, I’d probably attend this event again, through I’m not sure I quite understand what the intended demographic is. The mix of kinksters, swingers, and explorers creates an interesting environment, but I feel it lacks something in terms of community consciousness, coherence and shared expectations. However, I’m sure things could be done to foster that.

    Interesting. Someone stepped over me to talk to people, kicking my knee in the process. He apologised, but it was an afterthought. It seems to be an intoxication issue.

    Am I so mellow that people lack concern for offending me? Or is the vibe such a peaceful one that the sort of hostility that such inconsiderate behaviour would evoke is inconceivable? Nah. Drunken fools are as they always are.

    —

    Nice to have a conversation about serious matters to remind me that I’m old and bitter and take matters far too seriously.

    And then ten minutes later, run into another friend and have a random happy conversation that reminds me that the community contains plenty of people who have a passion who are looking for ways to express it. Be it Spaz and his music, or Nathan and his paintings. Or Mikhail and the things he does in the dark dark places.

    And interesting mixture of individuals and their motives. Steps taken to foster understanding between the different cliques seem like the obvious direction. Given that Markus is already running a 420 munch, I think he has the right skill set for that challenge.

  • Time slides sideways.

    I’m in this coffee shop on the corner, a block away from the party I’m supposed to be at. I changed my shirt after work, but didn’t bother with anything else. I packed some gears, but gave no real thought to my appearance. In theory, one reason to attend this event is to be social. To meet people. To flirt. Yet I’m totally unprepared for that. Instead I’m sitting here having a dark chocolate mocha so I’ll stay awake. I’m sure there’s something I’ll learn from this on later reflection, but right now I’m just staring my own foolishness in the face.

    But hey, at least I got out of the house. Though a wise man would have probably just stayed in front of the fire rather than driving icy roads.

    —

    Well, I just got a rather subtle reminder to trust my gut. My first instinct when I parked was to grab the exceeding conspicuous bag from the bag and take it to the coffee shop with me. But instead I back to the car, tried to find a closer parking spot, and ended up circling the block for no good reason. And parking in that exact same spot. Ah well, at least Modo counts as a universal resident permit.

  • Insomniac

    As often happens in November, my body has become an production facility for disgusting slime. The process is resulting in a combination of lethargy and disassociation; a feeling of weary calm.

    For many years I was a mouth breather, as my twice deviated septum and enlarged adenoids limited my nasal oxygen flow to less than 10% of my airflow. Eventually, I got over my paranoia over hospitals and had something done about it. As a result, I’m  actively conscious of my breathing, in terms of quality of airflow.

    Of course the thing that got me over the paranoia about hospitals was the stabbing pain in my lower back that happened one Sunday night when my gallbladder developed a bit of an issue. That attack was immediate and severe enough that I didn’t have the time to be paranoid about being knocked unconscious and sliced open.

    My point? A painful and unexpected attack was the thing that allowed me to get over my inertia and paranoia. It allowed me to get to the point where I was able to make the change that needed to be made to make things better.

    I’ve always claimed that there is no knowledge that is gained without a price being paid in pain, be it physical or emotional or spiritual or however you perceive it.

    The take away from this? Perhaps it was a metaphor or an allusion. Of course it is also just my life experience.

    Oh, right, and I’ve been having trouble falling asleep until after 4am, possibly because my sleep schedule got disrupted by the 3 days I spent mostly unconscious trying to recover from the nastiness in my respiratory system.

    That was why I picked the title after all.

  • Assemblage

    Neither the hero nor the monster, but both could fit, if the bits weren’t too broken to make sense of it. Didn’t work as it was, attempted modification, without much skill. Disassembled, reassembled, jumbled and bumbled. Best they get is barely better than a wreck. Not enough of any individual design to be recognised. Adapted and survived but not thrived.

  • My audience.

    When I originally started this, I had an idea of who might read it, but no solid plans for how to reach any of them. I figured I’d focus on what I had to say first and worry about who I wanted to read it afterwards.

    However, as the internet is a strange mixture of ephemeral and everlasting, of fluid and static, and of random interconnections, I have to consider who else will read it and what impact that might have on my life.

    I know at least one of my coworkers knows of this place, as he helped me setting it up. Other coworkers know that I own the domain, but I don’t know that they’d go out of their way to read it. They might, they are a surprisingly great group. The other day for my birthday, they got me a cake and a card. As I’ve only been working there a short time, I was surprised that they’d go to the trouble. And I was touched that they had. I’d been a bit grumpy with a couple of them a few days before because of various customer related issues. It helped remind me of the importance of being part of a team, something that was lacking at my last few jobs.

    I posted to my Facebook that I was working on my blog and a few friends asked for the link. And then my mother asked for the link, I warned her that there will likely be things on here that she doesn’t need to know, but she decided she wanted it anyways. So far, I haven’t shared it with my grandmother, but I don’t doubt she’ll find it before long, she’s a sharp cookie.

    So, aside from friends and family, current coworkers and various others I currently know, there will also be people I don’t yet know. People who only learn about me through the words I’ve written here. In most cases, I suspect the words I write will create a much better first impression than bumping into me on the street or in a bar.

    Then again, I have to ask myself if it matters what impression I make. What matters most is that my words are taken seriously, not that people like the person writing them.