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Raised by Moogles

meanderings on life, love, and the human race from an outside perspective

Moogle Girl

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July 21st, 2015

Been reading through this article and the comments about it here about emotional labor (there are a lot of them. Seriously, be prepared for it to eat at least two days’ worth of your free time.) and - well. It gave me a new vocabulary for talking about myself, so here we go.

It is long. And self-indulgent. And depressing. And there is not much point to it really.Collapse )

July 16th, 2015

I, uh, got two jobs today. Well, a job offer and an informal freelance project.

The job is just part time, weekday mornings at the local grocery store, but it's paying enough that I can stop living off my savings and start contributing to rent. The freelance gig - basically 'Boots acted as my agent, so now I'm doing an animated informational video for her boss. XD

I'm fairly sure imposter syndrome is going to hit me hard as soon as I start work on it, but since I'm not doing it in front of her I can fake confidence in my emails to her and have my breakdowns in blessed privacy. And tentatively, maybe start to believe that my diploma-mill graphic design degree was not the waste of two years and thousands of dollars that I've been convinced it was since about six months after I graduated.

I DON'T HAVE TO JOB-HUNT ANYMORE. HOORAY. JOB HUNTING IS THE ACTUAL WORST.

(On an unrelated note, I wrote a thing. TW: two instances of a common gendered slur. Also probably going to get a certain 90s pop song stuck in your head.)

June 19th, 2015

I tend to stay quiet about things like this*. I’ll retweet things other people have said, but in general I think that when my twitlist is talking about nine black people shot by a white racist, the last thing anyone needs to hear is how this incident makes yet another white person feel. But something the gunman** reportedly said caught ahold of my ear.

That thing was “You’re raping our women.”

Fellow white women, we need to be calling this shit out in force.

This is a laughably thin excuse for white violence against nonwhites, but it’s one that’s been thrown about for ages. See lynch mobs in the Reconstruction era. See Emmett Till. All done in the name of protecting white women’s virtue from black men. They murdered people in the cruelest ways they could think of and said it was for us. Does anyone here really believe that there was ever a point in history when black men made a point of jumping out of the bushes at virtuous, defenseless white women? Anyone? At all? Because it’s bullshit. A story made up to scare us into avoiding black men and to justify their murder. It’s as ludicrous and as destructive as the blood libel.

Let’s not kid ourselves, here. Our foremothers have found (or hell, been handed) ways to benefit from this intersection of sexism and racism, but it’s never been about protecting us so much as protecting white men’s exclusive claim to white female bodies. We’re the trophies, proof that a white patriarch has lived his life in the manner he was supposed to. Keeping black men away from us by violence or threat is about controlling our reproductive activity and about preserving men’s reputations.

I’m not trying to ‘me too!’ at POC’s suffering, to be clear. Justice needs to flow to them first: they have borne the majority share of pain from this dynamic. My uneasiness is just that - uneasiness. A feeling, compared to nine good people murdered while they were praying as an act of terrorism against a community I’m not part of.

That’s why I, and you, fellow white women, have to speak against this. We have to call bullshit on people like the shooter, at long last. Not. In. My. Name.

Because the alternative is to continue to be complicit.

*”Things like this,” plural. Seriously, fuck this country sometimes.
**Not repeating his name.

June 18th, 2015

Today I gave what I thought was a perfectly acceptable performance at a job interview for a part-time position at a grocery store. Two hours after leaving, I had a rejection email in my inbox.

They'd told me I'd hear back within five working days. Turns out they couldn't WAIT to tell me to fuck off.

I just - I can't even get hired for chimp work. I'm exactly that useless.

May 14th, 2015

Ten years ago this month I was diagnosed with depression, started taking medicine for it, and dropped out of college.

It feels like I should be able to contextualize this at this point, make some sort of meaningful narrative out of it, but I can’t. I don’t feel distant enough from it. I haven’t forgiven myself for dropping out. Maybe I never will. I mean, I survived the subsequent years: living with my parents, going back to school, earning a degree that turned out to be pretty much worthless, taking on a fairly stressful job and being successful at it, even managing to live on my own for a couple of years, albeit with some financial support from my parents. I published a couple of stories. And, dude, moved to another country and got enciviled to my Person. That was a thing. But I don’t feel like I’ve changed significantly from the person who burst into tears when my first therapist told me I was worth something.

When I was taking my psych assessment last summer - hah, how time flies! - I tested in the ‘severe’ range for anxiety and depression. I think there was a little bias in that - I was under stress at the time, taking all these tests and all, so maybe I was over-reporting - but ‘moderate’ depression/anxiety/whateverthehell is wrong with me is still a struggle.

I’m not on meds anymore. Maybe I should be. I still feel like I’m worthless. But I can take pleasure in things. I can function. I’m doing okay.

Screw it. My narrative will be shamelessly escapist.

May 7th, 2015

Because certain actors started calling Black Widow a slut in interviews. Oh my god I was so disappointed. The Chrises apologized later, at least, but then Jeremy Renner went and said it again and I - I just. STRANGLEHANDS.

So I ranted. And then I Storified the rant.

It's kind of funny how protective I feel of Natasha, really. I've never really experienced any of the shit that attractive women are subjected to - I got the "ugly girl" shit instead. But it's all two sides of the same coin in the end, isn't it? It's about treating women as commodities. I couldn't fight for myself back then, but I will tear a strip off someone for Natasha now.

March 11th, 2015

When ‘Boots lost her job last month, it was mostly a relief - her coworkers were horrible to her - but it also brought us into the domain of the Worry Wyvern. In order for the Powers that Be to approve my visa, we had to meet a financial requirement: namely, that she be employed six months at a salary meeting or exceeding a given threshhold. When we sent in our application, ‘Boots’s job meant we exceeded the threshhold by quite a comfortable margin. A month later, her income was zero, I’m not even allowed to look for jobs, and all was HOSHIT.

Mostly, we tried not to think about it while ‘Boots threw her resume at everything that moved. Aside from muttered confessions of “oh god what if-“ “oh god no” when we were both too tired to filter. I was haunted by visions of being shipped back to America in a small cardboard box with holes in the lid. …okay, not that last bit. But we were trying to enjoy our unexpected vacation together and leave the paperwork to fall where it may.

“We should call the Visa Guys and ask for advice,” ‘Boots suggested.

Haunted by visions of immediate deportation, I winced, “Maybe we should consult the UK Yankee forum first.” What if we called, they rejected our visa in light of this new info, but if we’d just sat tight it would have been fine? It’d be another six months before I’d be allowed to even apply again, and oh dear Primus what a nightmare that was the first time around. The plan became “call them only after Newjob has been secured”, and I very quietly held my breath.

A month later, ‘Boots gets offered a job - more than that, it’s a position they created just for her. Because she is fabulous. ^_^ I had gone croaky with illness by that point, so I sat by clinging to her hand while she called up the visa office and asked the fateful question.

“Here’s our situation, and I was just wondering… …oh, it won’t? And we don’t have to do anything? You have no idea what a relief that is!”

Cue the theatrical collapsing on our fainting couches.

“I wasn’t at all sure about this,” I told ‘Boots after, “but I’m really glad we called.” Just - you call someone up about government paperwork, where they’re not trying to sell you anything so they're not compelled to be nice, and they just - help? Just like that? What a novel concept!

I'm gonna like living here. ^_^

February 27th, 2015

I was bribed with cookies to post this, so you may all blame my partner.

Once upon a time, a tiny Roddy went to a civil partnership ceremony...Collapse )

January 20th, 2015

FIC: Dipolemacy, Chapter 1

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Jumping back on the chapter-fic horse with this - serious attempt at a ridiculous premise. XD I've been working on it for a while, so let's see how this goes.

With Cybertron recovering from its long and destructive war, Rodimus Prime journeys to the Seeker-controlled city of New Vos in order to reclaim a part of himself long forgotten. But a dark secret and a fight over New Vos's future threatens to destroy everything Rodimus has worked so hard to build, and will push his skills both old and new to the limit. Politics is a dance, and in New Vos, dance can be deadly.

It didn't take long for the newly-minted Rodimus Prime to develop the instincts common to most officers, aided by having so recently being only a lowest-rank soldier... (Link to AO3)

January 13th, 2015

On a lighter note...

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...for those of you who aren't on DW, I've written a couple more short things since landing on the Island. Lieutenant Buckethead (FFVII, pre-game, not CC compliant), and Close Encounters of the Sewer Kind (Avengers/TMNT crossover, takes place during The Winter Soldier.)

Both links go to AO3.

(Am working on a larger project, TF this time. Watch this space.)
“If only,” I keep hearing, whenever the subject of male entitlement or gun violence comes up. “If only some kind woman had given that poor boy a chance. If only she’d given me a chance to get into her panties. Then I wouldn’t have been so sad and lonely. Then he wouldn’t have shot six people. I feel for him. Poor guy.

This is the story of the time I gave a sad, lonely boy a chance.

“CutCollapse )

December 28th, 2014

When I wasn't looking...

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...I seem to have gone through another round of friend attrition.

I'll deal. I always do. There were extenuating circumstances this time, kind of. Still, I think the annual boring holiday update is going to have to wait until I'm done wallowing in self-pity.

November 26th, 2014

Two links re: Ferguson.

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Ferguson Legal Defense Fund: On Indiegogo.

Ferguson Municipal Public Library (providing vital services to protestors currently): Donation button here.

And that's all I'm gonna say.

November 18th, 2014

You know the scene in FF7 on the gondola? It's kind of like that. Takes place a little after The Return of Optimus Prime.

On AO3

...heh, maybe being in Englandia is good for my creativity. ^_^

November 7th, 2014

I'm settling in here. I'm learning to depend on a bike and the bus for my transportation, and I've started to learn the ways of hot water and radiators. (There was... an attempt at a bath yesterday. The less said about it the better.) So far the only real disappointments have been the things that don't work: my debit card*, and Pandora. I have yet to find a replacement music app that lets me create custom stations. I miss my Pandora stations, dammit. ;_;

It's not easy missing my 'Boots while she's at work, but it's wonderful to get to spend the evenings with her. And whole weekends. ........^_^

*They've transitioned to cards with chips in them over here; as I understand it, there's an unfortunate distrust of chip cards in America due to disproportionately-powerful paranoid God-botherers who think it's the Mark of the Beast or some such thing.

October 20th, 2014

Just signal-boosting this mini-essay.

Why G1 Arcee Still Matters

*points up* Why I love G1 Arcee above all others, and why I will never stop making female robot fancharacters.

October 9th, 2014

*dolphin noises*

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Ladies and gentlemen and otherwise: after a comedy of errors, little sleep, a lot of panic and a really long wait, I am SLAGGING THRILLED to announce that I have my entry visa and 'Boots and I are finally setting a date!

That date, namely, being December 1st. If all goes well I'll be flying out at the end of this month. I'm excited, terrified, mostly relieved.

August 8th, 2014

OKAY. Lots of things have happened in the past month. Quick summary:

- Quit my job at the animal hospital. Everyone was very kind and claimed they were sad to see me go. I too experienced some flicker of emotion. ;)
- After a lot of runarounds, blank looks, misinformation and general bullshit, I have FINALLY got all my visa stuff done and am now just waiting for a decision. According to the government-run website, 75% of applications get processed within 1 month, and 95% get processed within 3 months. I'm... really hoping to be in the 75% here, seriously.
- Went to visit the extended family one last time before The Big Move. It was nice to see everybody (even the cousins, who are almost strangers to me), but the aunties have not, it seems, given up on their campaign to get me to join Facebook. Aaaagh.*

Jobless-me is falling back on old patterns of sloth. I'm trying to keep busy with gym time and various writing projects, but currently I've got my nose buried in Final Fantasy IX and may not come up for air anytime soon. (Kupo.)

*'But how will we keep in touch?' ...same way we always do, with the occasional email. Seriously, why does this only come up now that I'm moving?

May 29th, 2014

Not ADD. Just lots and lots of depression and anxiety. (Seriously I am on the 99th percentile on both, I don't know how that is. I know I'm a trainwreck, but I didn't think I was THAT much of a trainwreck.)

Recommendations: medications. And therapy. Again. I don't feel like it helped me all that much last time I was doing it, but maybe now that I have an anxiety diagnosis along with the depression....? I'm going to try again. It's not just me I have to think about anymore, you know?

(Took myself out to the mall afterwards 'cause I always feel raw after talking about all the shit that's wrong with me. Found Kingdom Hearts socks at Hot Topic. Kingdom Hearts socks, y'all. If that doesn't cheer me up nothing will.)
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