On behalf of someone else. Just shaking with it. Near tears with it. And whoa, it does not help my pained joints or head or general ugh, road kill, feeling any at all. And now my chest is doing that anxious pound pound thing. On the other hand, maybe it's still a good that I can recognize certain things when I see them; that therapy and fandom have given me the tools to utilize my Doctorate in Manipulation (Mothering Guilt) to see when someone's playing the ass.
Just... sheesh, I'm shaking. Damn. Wow. Sometimes, sometimes I forget my trust issues and how big a deal it is to me that boundaries are respected. That after a life-time of having mine violated, even if I still battled to put one up for my mother (who treats them like wet 1 ply tissue paper), I recognize where they should and why they should be.
Just... shit. Ow. Stomach pain now. Geeze, my brain.
Reading someone's review of the latest Anita Blake novel - I'm reminded of my childhood fantasy that I was actually a dhampire. And heaven knows it feels that way these days, with my sensitivity to light, and vibrations (all House of Usher) and my joints etc getting more painful as I get older and now this recent 'becoming allergic to all sorts of food'. In a story I wrote, the solution of course would be that I need blood; the older I get the more of my childhood humanity is wearing away.
Real life doesn't work that way though. More's the pity. Though I suppose some 'drug' out there could 'be' the 'blood'. I'm doubting it. Blood doesn't mess up the liver.
Have an invite; if it's new and shiny, chances are ZviLikesTV will know about it, and I'll get an invite or poke or nudge or something. The thing is though? I'm still an introvert, even online. And right now I can't even read the info properly for Google+ because they mention circles and keep wanting me to add people and it all just seems like a crazy, jangly, extroverted, privacy abridged, constant online chat or something. And as socially repugnant to me as walking into a room of extroverted people who'll want to touch me, and talk in my face and breathe my air and tell me to smile.
No. Just. NO!
I like absolute control of my environment. I like choosing who I'll talk to and when (block or no block). I like the thought of having my virtual front door open - but I have ABSOLUTELY hand picked the neighbours. Or rather to be less Americana; some people live on my street, some people have an invite to my front courtyard, some people have an invite to my back courtyard and a few, very few people get to step foot inside the house.
Plus all the 'PUT YOUR LIFE ONLINE! TOGETHERNESS! SOCIAL NETWORK! WOOT!' Makes me want to punch someone in the mouth. With a boxing glove. Filled with lead. That's on fire! There's this immediate assumption that all such tools must be used by everyone, all the time, at the same time. Isn't the world already too barbed wire fluxing as it is with points of attention jabbing everywhere? I mean, I have to physically restrain myself from leaving the bloody bathroom to answer the phone - just because I can hear it ringing. As if I don't have the right to not want to talk to anyone, or having anyone else's life intrude into mine. OMG it's my phone! (Though, less with the landline and more w/ the cellphone! OMG it's the cell! It must be important! Let me run outside without stopping to wipe my be- WAIT A MINUTE. WTF Brain?!)
As it is, sometimes I can't even handle being online (open door/chat programs) at all. I'm feeling too fragile, or anti-social, or a need to hermit, or socially bruised and/or over-taxed.
So yeah, I'll be over here. In the quiet, slow lane, missing the days when email alone was the best thing ever - because LONG LETTERS and NO POSTAGE (or waiting in line for stamps).