Posts Tagged ‘stuff and nonsense’

Okay. Silence.

Not a good thing, I suppose.

Noting my recent blogging activity, I can see that there are times where I write every day for a few days, and then leave a silence of about a week. I laugh this away, saying that I’ve been “sporadic” or “random” with my updates, but there’s actually a reason for why I haven’t been writing a lot lately, and it’s kind of personal and kind of painful.

On Axolotl Ceviche, I typically don’t write about personal stuff. Sure, I write about things that happen to me, writing things and that sort of stuff, but I don’t talk about what’s really going on in my head. Partially because I don’t want to bore you guys, but mostly because I’m scared to.

So.

I’m often public about the fact that I have Asperger’s Syndrome, which is an autistic spectrum disorder. Basically, what it means is that I have a lot of the symptoms of autism, just without linguistic impairment. I’m sure you can tell that I can communicate just fine, which isn’t what most people assume of autism, so people just assume that I’m another neurotypical. This isn’t the case.

One thing that comes with the whole “autism package” is anxiety, and to a lesser extent, depression.

I’ve dealt with this all my life. There hasn’t been a time when I haven’t been anxious or depressed. (Note that when I say “anxious”, I don’t mean it like most people say it. I mean I’m in a constant state of nervousness for no discernible reason other than the chemicals in my brain don’t work right.) Every day, I had moments when it felt like the walls of my throat were closing in and my heart was pounding like I was dropping into a fifteen-foot cornice, when I felt trapped in my body and I couldn’t do anything but wait it out. It was a terrible feeling, and it happened all the time. It was only recently that I realized that I was having the symptoms of a panic attack.

These feelings have triggers, of course, but it’s stupid to look at my childhood or crap like that in order to determine why I have them. The reason isn’t psychological, but neurochemical. I don’t have panic attacks because I was abused as a child (which I decidedly was not). I have panic attacks because my brain does not work correctly.

Recently, they’ve been getting worse.

A week or so ago, I tried counting off the number of times that I had a panic attack that day. I lost count at about ten. I’ve been living basically on the ragged edge of collapse for about a month now. Even writing about it now, I’m feeling those symptoms. And it’s terrible.

I feel so out of my comfort zone even talking about this in public, even though nobody reads this blog. Meh. Fuck the comfort zone.

Going in public, riding the bus, knocking on the door to a friend’s house… every time this happens I feel like I’m about to die. Even just sitting at home and thinking about nothing will bring an attack on. A couple months ago, I had my first ever suicidal thoughts. I just wanted to take the easy way out, and not have to worry about anything again.

Do you know how scary that is? To sit in your Syntax class and be afraid to even move, to even blink, because all you can think about is your own goddamn death? I’d never had those thoughts before, and I was terrified. And looking back even further, back to last year, when I was so angry at times that I wanted to punch the wall until my fingers bled… suffice to say that I’ve been feeling like shit for years, and it’s not getting better.

I can see into my future and it seems terrible. I’m worried that I’ll turn into a complete agoraphobe. Even interacting with the world is hard, and I’m so scared of people and change that it’s just going to get harder and harder. And you know what the worst thing is? I can’t even imagine being in a world where I don’t feel like this. The idea of being happy terrifies me even more than the idea of being dead. Because I can’t imagine a world where I’m not constantly anxious. To me, happiness seems as impossible as surviving a head-on collision with a black hole.

I can see the future, and all I can imagine from it is pain.

I’m not writing this to be angry, or get attention, or because I’m worried I’ll kill myself, or anything like that. I just needed a place to express myself, and considering that Axolotl Ceviche is mine and mine alone, it’s as good a place as any. Likely this post probably won’t even be read, the same as all my other posts. But that’s not the point. I need a place to say this. It’s like the story of King Midas’ barber. I’m whispering all this into the reeds, because I need to tell someone that the king has ass’s ears.

That’s all.

Nothing more.

~ Ian

(Thrice, “Stare at the Sun”)

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I’ve had quite a lot of blog posts that I’ve been meaning to do. However, none of them are particularly long, definitely not long enough for a full blog post. So, I’ve decided to make a hodgelany of all of them together. (Hodgelany is a word coined by Patrick Rothfuss. It’s just what it sounds like: a combination of a hodgepodge and a miscellany.)

 

People often say that California has no seasons. Even people from California say this (as with my dad’s saying, “California has two seasons. One where it sometimes rains and one where it never rains.”). But this isn’t true. California has four seasons, just like anywhere else in the temperate zone. Our seasons are just subtle. The people who think that California doesn’t have seasons are just confused because there isn’t snow covering everything for five months out of the year (and, in fact, it does snow a lot in California, just not in the parts that people think of when they hear the word “California”: basically, everything south of Pasadena).

Right now, it’s springtime in the area around Santa Cruz. The hills around the city are bright green, so green that it feels like I’m in Ireland (well, sort of: Ireland doesn’t have eucalyptus or live oaks). When I take the bus home from class, it drives out along Empire Grade from the western entrance of campus, with the afternoon sun shining on the ocean. I hate the light– I often joke that I’m a vampire, since two of my favorite things are darkness and incredibly rare meat– but I can see why people like it, when it’s as pretty as it is on the bus rides home.

 

I got the first two Assassin’s Creed games for Christmas. They are INCREDIBLE.

Let me just put this out there: if Ubisoft were ever to make an Assassin’s Creed game set in 1600s Japan, that would be it. I would need no other games. Game development, as a science and art, would be over.

BALL’S IN YOUR COURT, UBISOFT MONTREAL.

 

It makes me feel like a traitor to my state every time I say it, but I’ll say it anyway: Five Guys Burgers and Fries is better than In-N-Out Burger.

I know, I know. In-N-Out Burger is a California landmark, and I should be proud to eat there. But honestly, their burgers just aren’t as good as Five Guys’ In-N-Out’s burgers feel too perfect. They’re neat and tidy and all pretty much the same. Whereas Five Guys’ burgers are enormous, drooling things that ooze grease and can be contained by no bun: just like a burger should be. Plus their fries are better. Plus they give you free peanuts.

Seriously: if there were a Five Guys in Santa Cruz, then my life would end. My arteries would turn into nothing more than tubes of grease, and I would die, fat and happy, with my face down in an enormous basket of Cajun fries.

NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM

If you don’t feel your brain exploding at the sight of this picture, I’m sorry. We can’t be friends.

 

Interestingly enough, I’ve gotten back into Magic: The Gathering.

What happened is that Gabby’s brother Julian and Calum’s friend Forrest came over for dinner last week, and they brought their Magic cards, because as you can imagine, they are huge goddamn nerds, as am I. Well, Calum and I have a box of Magic cards dating back to 2003 (yes, I haven’t played Magic seriously since Seventh Edition), so Calum brought it down so that Julian and Forrest could look through them, things continued to happen, I made a deck, and now Calum and I have been playing Magic regularly.

In fact, I’ve taken to making my own cards:

ianjohnsonmagic

 

I believe that if I ever need to make business cards, they will look something like this.

 

That’s all for now. Keep your stick on the ice.

~ Ian

800px-Flag_of_Mexico.svg

OKAY FINE, I will admit that the Mexican flag is better than the Californian flag. But that’s because it’s got an eagle on top of a cactus eating a snake.

A note to future flag designers: while eagle<bear, cactus<bear, and snake<bear, eagle+cactus+snake>bear.

And dragon>(eagle+cactus+snake)*bear. 

800px-Flag_of_Wales.svg

Flag_of_Bhutan

 

Hope that clears things up.

~ Ian

 

Many of you may have pride in your states. Many of you may even like your state flags. This is perfectly fine. You may even think that your state flag is the best state flag in the country.

Of course, you’d be wrong.

Unless you live in California.

I mean, LOOK AT THIS NONSENSE:

California_state_flag

As you can see, California’s state flag has three elements that conspire to make it awesome.

The Star: Red stars on state flags are cool. It doesn’t matter if the red star is considered communist. Red stars are still cool.

The Motto: Any time you have a flag, it should have the name of a nonexistent country on it. Yes, the California Republic did actually exist, but only for about a month at the tail end of the Mexican-American War. The “California Republic” is completely gone now, and yet it still exists, on our state flag. Former countries: Cool.

The Bear: Basically, what I’m trying to say is, OUR STATE FLAG HAS A BEAR ON IT AND YOURS DOES NOT.

You might be saying, “But the only species of bear in California is the black bear! The California Grizzly went extinct in the 19th century due to expanding population and overhunting!”

TOUGH. Both of those things are true. But both other elements don’t exist in California either. California holds no independent republics or red dwarf stars, YET THERE THEY ARE ON OUR FLAG. And besides, bears are awesome. Oh, what’s that, Oregon? You say that your flag is cool because it has a beaver? Beavers are lame. They have only two uses: making ponds and having skins that can be turned into hats for 18th-century French ladies. In a fight, a bear will shank a beaver to the ground. 

To sum it all up, our flag has a fucking bear on it.

We win by default.

~ Ian

Are the Foo Fighters so named because they fight using foo as weapons, or are they engaged in a constant struggle against foo?

~ Ian

I’ve found that whenever I see the word “tumbler” written in text, meaning a small glass with a rounded bottom that is easily knocked over and is usually used for drinking liquor, I find that my mind declares, “That’s wrong,” and “corrects” the typo to “tumblr”.

…I think I spend too much time on the Internet.

~ Ian

EDIT: OH CRAP I ALMOST FORGOT HAPPY VALENTINES DAY FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE SIGNIFICANT OTHERS (NOT THAT I’M BITTER FOR STILL BEING SINGLE (OKAY MAYBE A LITTLE BIT))

I made a timeline for The Lotus Imperiate universe*.

It covers about 5000 years of history, is 1,797 words long, and takes up five pages. And yet, I still feel like it’s not long enough.

In other words: Preparations for Draft 2 are on.

~ Ian

*note: It’s called the Lotusverse. Or, at least that’s what I call it.

deep thought #136-c

Posted: November 9, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Why aren’t female monkeys called “nunneys”?

~ Ian

H.P. Dubcraft.

Busy today, can’t talk more. But I came up with that name, and it amused me, so therefore I’m sharing it with you.

DON’T QUESTION MY MOTIVES! NOT EVERY BLOG POST CAN BE RICH AND INFORMATIVE!

~ Ian

Okay. In order to illustrate the below conversation, here is an image:

 

This infernal device (for lack of a better word) is known as the HAVE A BLAST! BUTT PUTT. In case you are wondering, yes, this is a putting green where you attempt to knock a golf ball up a fat plastic white-man anus. Why this product exists, I have no idea. But it does exist, for reasons that I cannot fathom– and must not, for I intend to retain my sanity.

Now. Gabby came across a picture of this… thing… in a catalog that was sent out through the mail, full of useless things for useless people to spend their shiny gold rocks on. Upon viewing the aforesaid item, a conversation thus proceeded:

GABBY: Ooh! Have-a-Blast Butt Putt!

ME: (mishearing) Apple Blast Butt Pie?

CALUM: No– it’s Have-a-Blast Butt Putt.

ME: I think that Apple Blast Butt Pie is far worse.

GABBY: Yeah, you’re probably right.

Because I’m curious, I wonder if I could create a recipe for Apple Blast Butt Pie. And if I did, how far would my mind descend into madness, into the realm where nothing exists but the sound of me inside my head, my endless screams echoing off the walls of my skull?

~ Ian