Showing posts from October, 2013

I Have No Mouth, and That's Peachy for Humanity

Unfortunately, I have a blog and a self-entitlement complex.

I really, really hate being triggered. And I really, really hate myself for being triggered because virtually all the people around me never have to deal with trauma triggers and can stumble through life more or less unscathed, which makes me feel very shitty for not being able to do the same thing.

I suppose I'd better get to the point...My boyfriend bought a cheap copy of I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream for at least one of us to play. Knowing how dark and disturbing it was, I wanted to start playing it through with him because hey, I'm a mature adult who should be able to deal with this stuff and who also loves adventure games.

I think I should have probably decided against playing it (for the present time, at least) when he mentioned that I'd be triggered by at least two of the characters' stories. And I think at this point I should probably explain why I get so triggered by things.

I am not the kind of…

On Synaesthesia

Something most people don't know about me is that I have synaesthesia: emotions, numbers, letters and sounds all have different colours, and some colours have tastes associated with them as well (for example, the number 7 is orange and tastes tangy). I don't really talk about it because I don't really talk about myself much: I don't feel it's world-changingly important for people to know the exact workings of my mind, and it certainly doesn't help me that much in daily life except with some aspects of music (I can associate certain pitches with certain colours, though I see it much more as a spectrum and timbre is generally far more important). About the only thing it's done for me is give me a really irrational dislike of any number with the digit 3 in it, especially if it's prime.

I've grown up with this as perfectly normal - I've never known a life without it, and so I get quite shocked and upset when I tell people and they look at me like I&…

Adults Only?

The older I get, the more I feel the need for places that cater to over-16s only - or at least more places that have over-16 nights and such. I very much hope I'm not being discriminatory; it's just sometimes...well...let me explain.

I don't hate kids with a violent passion, but I'm not particularly keen on them either. I like some (my friend's two younger brothers are sometimes quite difficult to deal with, for various reasons, but both utterly adorable) and not others, just as I like some adults and not others; it's really that simple. I don't see why I should fawn over your child simply because they're small, and I will fawn over them even less if they get in my way and they're noisy (I have an anxiety condition that is aggravated by loud noises, and aggravating a condition that causes me to spasm uncontrollably and feel like I'm about to die from fear is not the best way to get me to like you). And while I don't expect or want your sprog…

On Feminism

Before I start, yes, I am critical of feminism. And before any antifeminists who think that hairy-legged, unnatural lesbians have destroyed the family think they'll find a friend in me, I'd like to point out that they have another think coming; misogynists of any shade revolt me. But I would like anyone who reads this to hear me out anyway.
For all my problems and disagreements, I truly miss being a feminist.
A lot of the people I know who first got me into feminism are really, really cool and supportive; a lot of feminists I still know are really, really cool and supportive. Feminism is a broad tent full of bright people whom I loved (and still love) working with, and if you find the right group of people it feels absolutely fantastic just to be supported by a bunch of other people working towards the great goal of smashing the kyriarchy.
So, you ask, why would I leave? Surely I'm just making this up and am a traitor to my sex by no longer being a feminist?
The thing is,…

Flaw Found in Solar Radiation Equation

My Bisexual Agenda

I can't believe this shit.

It's the 21st century. We're over a decade into the third millennium. And people are still cowering in fear of the so-called gay know, that thing where suddenly sheep are going to glow in the dark, trees are going to grow faces and ducks are going to take over the world if anyone but a cis man and a cis woman express sexual attraction towards and love for each other.

Now, I could go on and on about the plight of LGBTQQIA people all over the world and how horribly even the most privileged of us are oppressed, but the audience I'm trying to reach - cis straight people who are probably grossed out by the thought of all this - likely don't care about people they think are unnatural, can't imagine what's involved, or think it's justified. (Firstly, before cis straight people everywhere start yelling about how I've hurt their feelings, I know not all of you are like this, but I'd like to focus on those of you w…

In Defence of Mathematical Beauty

"Why are numbers beautiful? It's like asking why is Beethoven's Ninth Symphony beautiful. If you don't see why, someone can't tell you. I know numbers are beautiful. If they aren't beautiful, nothing is." - Paul Erdős I can't deny it: I think maths is beautiful.

At this point a lot of people with a near-phobia of maths are probably going to look at their screen like it's about to eat them. How can you find something so scarily abstract so gorgeous? How can you love it so much you're looking at studying it for another four years at university - for fun?! Equally, a lot of people who understand maths are probably slightly confused; maths is a tool. It's functional, not beautiful. Where's the beauty in numbers scribbled on a page or in calculations you make when trying to build flats or predict the growth of an economy?

Well, you see, in part a lot of it relies on my weird head. I don't think in English - well, not strictly speaking.…

How to piss off depressives

Life in general is a neverending stream of mild annoyances - well, it's a neverending stream of much more than that, good and bad, but I'm known for being pessimistic, negative and a lover of complaining. Between you (because let's face it, there aren't that many of you) and me, I like it that way; it means I have a way to vent about the bad things in life instead of repressing them behind faked smile upon faked smile.

So why complain so much about how depressives are treated by the people around them? After all, there are a million and one things to complain about, from the exploitative nature of capitalism to how I hate having to put the bins out early. What makes this more worth complaining about than anything else?

There are many things worthy of complaining about, I admit - but this is one of them. You see (and if you're sane, this will very probably offend you) people who have never been depressed seem to think that they have some unique insight into the min…

CyberGuerrilla soApboX » Anonymous interview with @StanleyCohenLaw on the PayBack13 case

If I Die

As with many of my posts, this talks about suicide. If it triggers you, don't read.

Well, I fully admit that was a stupid title. Dying isn't a question of if, it's a question of when; I am under no illusions as to my own mortality. What I really mean is if I die by my own hand.

This isn't going to be a post about how no-one will miss me or about how the world will be better off without me; somehow the message got through my skull that while I'm nothing special, the people close to me will miss me a lot. This in no way stops the suicidal compulsions or the belief that the world as a whole will be better off without me, but it does make me a lot more reluctant to go through with it.

No, this is more a post about the legacy I would leave behind if I took my own life - and how I don't particularly want to be remembered.

Yep, I said that right. If I kill myself, I don't want to be remembered. I don't want tributes to how beautiful and amazing I was as a pers…