soli

Oh god, I really hope my phone doesn’t do that when it records. The recording button is on the screen during calls and I accidentally hit it all the time.

I’m surprised at how hard seeing Max again hit me. I don’t have much interest in playing a new LiS game, but I still got unreasonably emotional dredging up memories of the first game.

Remember that other sequel with puppets?

puppets sounds cool actually

I played it a couple of years ago, before a lot of the patches, and still thought it was one of the better games I have never finished.

What are you doing with your life at the moment? Job, study, whatever.

Eh, yes and no. It might help illustrate the limitations of testing for some people, but it’s not really telling us anything new about them. It is meant to cheaply provide an indication of how a student is fairing and has never been considered by anyone serious as some kind of comprehensive measure of intelligence. Their flaws have been known for a long time.

Probably a few times a day, depending on what I’m doing.

I work in a small office, and answer the phones. Most of the time the call needs to be transferred on. Standard operating procedure if someone can’t take the call is to say they’re “unavailable, can I get them to call you back?” and, if pressed, “on another call at the moment”. This is usually untrue - we don’t get many calls, so 99% of the time it’ll either mean they’re in the bathroom, having lunch or just don’t want to talk to an overly needy client who keeps calling at the moment.

I’ll often also lie about my position if a client questions why I can’t handle their call. It’s easier to say I’m just the receptionist or something isn’t my department, than explain why this either needs to be handled by someone else or would be far cleaner that way.

Oh, and I lie about why I’m putting people on hold all the time. I’m often not bringing up your file or whatever - I did that while we were talking.

My life personally is better now than it was 15 years ago. I have some nostalgia for the late 00’s, and if current me could go back I could build something better than I have now - just working not “lol I just memorize lottery numbers” or whatever - but back then I was fucking miserable. Abusive living situation, deeply mentally ill, broke and not yet equipped to deal with it all.

It Takes Two would be my introduction for a partner who doesn’t game very much. Co-op, easy to play, fun in a really low stakes way with a great story. I had tons of fun with the game playing with an ex.

Raft is another I played with an ex that was a lot of fun. It’s a very chill co-op survival game where you build up your boat.

I’d love to get out of this city. It’s a car addicted hellscape with a lot of personal baggage in it. A fresh start would do me so much good. I dream of living somewhere not so fucking car brained.

But if it’s just enough money to move, then no. I moved states when I was younger and I can’t live again knowing if anything goes wrong I might be homeless with no local support network. At least here I have some family. If I was rich, sure, but not if I have to work to keep a roof over my head.

Not bad at the moment.

Public transport is a bit awkwardly scheduled relative to my start times. A train only takes about 30 minutes, including walking to and from the station but it either gets me in super early or just a hair too late. I tend to take a bus instead because it’s a better fit, I get to leave a little latter than the early train while still being on time. But it takes about 40 minutes in total, which includes a bunch of extra walking because the route starts another suburb over.

I often get a ride in, depending on whether my schedule lines up, which only takes about 15-20 minutes depending on traffic. I feel a little guilty because this is the shortest commute I’ve ever had by far yet the first time I’ve not primarily used public transport, but I do really appreciate the convenience. I unfortunately sweat a ton (I really should talk to my doctor about hyperhidrosis, it’s extremely bad) so even the short walk from the bus/train station will leave my hair gross and matted, which then turns in a terrible case of triangle head.

I’ve thought about getting an ebike. There is a separated bike path that is a little bit indirect but covers like 90% of the route. I think I could get there at least as fast as the bus. Could be quicker, but I’m not taking a direct route as it’s just bicycle gutters in an area that sees a ton of industrial traffic. Fuck riding by trucks.

Wish I could say the same about our public transport improving, it’s only gotten worse. It all got privatized awhile back.

I was a big ‘offend everyone’ dweeb, with a side serving of “free speech”.

I grew up in structure where etiquette and taboo were abused and hated them. Like the chilidish little maximalist I was, I applied that hatred to everything. Slurs were particularly hilarious, I thought people were ridiculous with how they tip toe around them and delighted in their discomfort when I’d just come out and say it. They were just words, why be scared of them?

In my mind, I clearly didn’t hold any bigoted views. Particularly with homophobic ones - I’m queer, I’ve been beaten for it, I’ve been beaten counter protesting “actual” bigots. I’d ask critics “what have you done?”, before calling them a fa-

Well, you get the idea.

At the end, I was also a sort of community figure. An extremely minor one in the grand scheme of things, but I still had attracted a small audience. This included a large number of younger men who were impressionable. The thing is, they attract their own audience too.

I noticed an increasingly amount of what I considered, back then, to be “actual” bigoted stuff being said. Usually from older men trying to sway those younger men. I saw them buzzing around my peers too, encouraging them to say things for them, dropping bait in chats and pulling aside the younger male audience members to try to recruit them, more or less.

I tried a couple of times to call it out, but they’d fall back on “it’s just a joke”. They’d point to all the bullshit I’d said over the years and the obvious hypocrisy. I’d given up any credibility I had and bred an environment where these people could thrive. It also became clear that plenty of my audience had taken me seriously, and were imitating what they thought I was doing.

It made me reevaluate things. I’d alienated people, good people, by acting in this way. I’d hurt people I never had any intention of hurting with my callous disregard for their feelings. I’d convinced people to be worse in ways I’d fought against, destroying far more progress than I’d ever made.

So I stepped away from the spotlight and stopped. As a side note, working it out of your vocabulary is a truly frustrating progress. I’d trained myself to use slurs to mean the most basic things. Getting sober was more difficult but at least it was quicker. It took literal years of diligence to kill the impulse to call someone who is being annoying a fa-

Anyway.

Afterwards, a surprising number of the people who distanced themselves from me reached out. More than I deserved. I hadn’t told anyone I’d had a revelation, or made some grand apology to try and absolve myself of the sin or whatever. It is telling about how bad it was that people took notice just from it’s absence. Many of those shared stories of how it’d hurt them.

The one that broke my heart the most was a transwoman who I had stood up for when others tried to push her out. She had been lonely, and I’d given her just enough acceptance for her to get trapped in a toxic community. My bigotry she rationalized away, and it desensitized her just enough to try to fit in with the broader community around me. She internalized the horrific transphobia that was being said. I think it goes without saying what that did to her mental health and the places it lead. I had caused deep harm to not only someone I liked, who had looked up to me, but someone I had tried to help.

It’s not just jokes, the intention doesn’t change that.

My mother was mostly a stranger growing up. I don’t know exactly how the arrangement came about, but I was my father’s child. She kept her distance and took to my sibling instead. She worked weekends when I was younger so I saw her comparatively little, and by the time I was a teenager my father’s abuse had long since driven her into drink and depression. I had little idea what she liked, what her hobbies were or what her life was like before me.

I left in my late teens but moved back in with her in my early 20’s. They had divorced just before I left, and she hadn’t been coping with it very well. I hadn’t coped well with life either. Those were some hard years at first. Both traumatized and stranded. I’ve gotten to know her very well since then. Frankly, too much. She’s no saint, but she’s well intentioned and I’ve come to love her even if I didn’t as a child.

My father I always knew. He’s not exactly hard to understand, just another emotionally stunted and cowardly little man. We were only ever a tool for him - to win approval from his parents, and to provide one small space where he could inflict his control. I know every little thing he likes because those were the only things that were allowed to matter. He tried desperately to make me become like him. I am very glad I am not.

I’ve been looking for rentals lately. Every inspection has dozens upon dozens of people show up. Rental vacancies are at a tiny fraction of a percent. No landlord will take someone if the rent will cost more than 30% of their income. To qualify for a studio apartment it takes almost double the median wage.

I hate it so much. I’ve budgeted so that I know I can afford these places on my income, I have a significant pile of savings and a stable job. I have been looking for a place for six months and been rejected from them all.

I’ve given up. Even if I could get a place it’d be cheaper to pay a fucking mortgage.

I’ve been very candid about most aspect of my life at different times on the internet. Health, sex, poverty, abuse, you name it. Some of it while extremely mentally unwell.

But would would actually be the worst is if anyone found the fan fiction I wrote when I was like 13.

That’s interesting, when I learned to touch type in school we weren’t taught to use the right shift. Likely an oversight rather than intentional, but I just use my pinky to hit the left shift while using the left hand side of the keyboard.

It might be worth looking for a family practitioner (that’s the American term for a general doctor right?) that advertises experience with mental health. Queer friendly and poor (and the many euphemisms they use) assistance is also a good sign. Talk about how your disability is effecting your mental health, ask if they have recommendations for both.

The reason I recommend this is you’re looking for people with empathy. Bureaucracies are made of people first and foremost, checking the right boxes is second to having someone who will make sure the right box gets checked. People who deal with mental health, queerness and poverty are also far more likely to have the experience to point you in the right direction with government services. They probably wont be the end of your journey but they’ll be a good guide.

I lived this for years.

First, you’ll want to look into government disability support. The specifics will vary wildly depending where you are, but it’s probably your most useful resource. For me, along with the money, they had tailored support for finding work I could do.

They ended up finding me a part time, WFH call center job. There were incentives for the employer to take me because of my disability and assistance (including financial) for setting me up for it. It was still extremely hard but the disability support checked in on me regularly to help me through it.

Before that, there are plenty of ways to make money online. Too many to list. If you’ve got the basic skills, the equipment and you’re still able to function enough it’s worth trying.

There is also going to be a variety of various charity and government support programs for people with disabilities, low income earners, etc. with the specifics depending on where you are. The harsh reality is surviving will mean learning to swallow your pride and enduring shame. Don’t just look for “disability” support, take anything you might be applicable for. Make sure to look through every level of government you might come under as they aren’t unified and can be difficult to find.

Community groups can be an invaluable resource. If there are ones that might apply to you - whether it be around ethnicity, sexuality, religion, whatever - you can find a wealth of assistance. At the very least they’re going to have some free food.

If you aren’t going to find a new job, document any inappropriate behavior. Talk to the other women and get them onboard. Let them know who he is. It wont take much to have him out on his ass if he does anything. Bring up his conviction when you report misconduct as well.

There are plenty of jobs he can work that aren’t with the best friend of his victim.

I had this ex who was deep into D&D and really keen on similar movies to The Princess Bride from the same era, but hadn’t seen it. I suggested it for a movie night while we were sharing movies that were a big part of our childhood and got “it looks stupid, I’m not watching that”. Unironically might have been the straw that broke the back of that relationship, I ended things not long after.