It proved impossible to get me from this city all the way to St. Louis, and as a result, my tenure as a factory worker is officially over.

What surprises me is that I'm taking this better than I did losing my job at the hotel. But then again, that was an even bigger case of BS than this case: this was the year that they discovered that my slum apartment complex was full of ...ahem, pestilence, and they laid me off supposedly until I could get it taken care of. Well, while I was out there, they canned me before I could get it done.

In a way, this feels similar. I lost this job through circumstances that I couldn't do anything about myself.

More than the last job, though, this was killing my body. My back is wonky, my knees complain more, and through something completely unrelated, my shoulder is just plain fucky, for lack of a better word.

But, when I stop to think about it, I don't regret any of this, either. Everything led me here, to a place where I am doing better than I have in a long time.

BUT the fact remains that this means that I'm out of money coming in.

We're cutting back to essentials until we can get this situation put back together, but man, it's kind of scary. I've never been in this position before: New city, new neighbors, learning to live with a significant other--it's all foreign to me. And while I search for a job, I am basicallly a house spouse until further notice. I mean, I want to be a two-check house, but apparently that ain't just yet.

And yet, I have never felt quite this serene.

I'm not going to ask questions. That'll jinx everything that we have going on right now.

I'm just going to use this downtime to refresh and recover from the last few months.

Now, back to my podcast.

OK but first off:

Hey, Wordpress, explain the following? Please?

WHY THE ABSOLUTE HELL is the New Post command hiding under 'Window?' That is the most counterintuitive thing that I have ever seen, and I have put up with lots of free apps that just approximate the thing that I need at times. This is official shit. Also, you need a dark mode.

Ok, now that that's out of my system...

___

I've had this computer for a little under a month now. It was a gift, and BOY do I love this thing. It's zippy, runs my favorite games at full crank with no lag, and has an app that lets it sync to my phone so I can use the apps on the computer, or text, or whatever. The only hang?

I, uh, skipped the free install of Win10 on my other rig because it couldn't run it well, so until now I've still been on Windows 7. So basically, I know fuckall what I'm doing. Every turn is learning something new.

For instance, the finger-number shortcuts on this touchpad. It's so much easier than stretching for an alt+tab--or an alt+shift+tab if I'm going the other way. It's a double blessing because my hands aren't used to keyboard work anymore, after freakin months of disuse. At one point, my hands would cramp up and go useless after only 300 words. That's not good for a writer.

Then there's my bad habit of having like 19 things shortcutted to the start bar. I mean, I'm TRYING, but I want to avoid the desktop chaos I had before. I mean, I had a widescreen monitor and almost every inch of space was SOMETHING on the desktop.

...come to think of it that's an even worse habit. Must break.

The sound on this thing is phenomenal, too. And if I need to cover myself, my Skullcandy headphones connect to it via bluetooth. No more wires! AND THE MIC WORKS. You know what that means? I can do gaming videos again.

...do I sound hyped? I might just be.



EDIT:  No, you're not trippin;--I changed my blog's look for the first time in literally ever. It was time for a new look.

I came into this year with a plan.

Actually, I think we all did.

But...2020, as we all know, is a thing that happened.

All four Horsemen went on a road trip, and pretty much nobody got out of it unscathed. Myself, I’m fighting to get respect and a diagnosis for a mysterious ailment that’s leaving me with rashes in my arms and legs that creep into my joints and cause such pain and stiffness that they render me unable to type. And if I can’t type...I can’t write.

Fuck. My elbow hurts right now just being in the typing position right this minute. I never had elbow pain before this year, even allowing for the factory job as a, erm, factor. My fingers and thumbs will often (painlessly) dislocate and I’ll have to stop and relocate them (also painlessly). I’m tired of not having answers to this question, and I’m pretty sure my doctor’s tired of seeing me. He probably thinks I’m hunting for pills.

Well, I’m not. I’m tired of pills. I take enough pills. My liver is so tired of pills it’s starting to get physically fucked up. In fact, I could do with fewer pills.

I’m having a harder time following schedules, and that’s messing me up because I used to be great at that. It was a point of pride with me, and now that it isn’t working I feel like a damn failure. I have to figure something out.

This is the first year where I barely wrote. I was too sick. Too tired. I just...couldn’t.

This cannot keep up.

I’m not gonna let it.

The entire situation right now is fucky. It’s been hell trying to get my damn ID sorted out, I’ve got some weird health shit going on (I need scopes and there’s an ultrasound result waiting on me to get the results on right now, as in right now, right now right now), and oh yeah, my shrink backpedaled on getting me to that gender therapist. So that’s a thing. (Well, technically it’s not a thing, but you get the idea.)

My knees are getting worse, and then there’s the new variable, a back injury from a forklift accident at work that I was stupid enough not to call workman’s comp on.

Yeah, go ahead and brain me with a pow hammer for that one. I was a freakin’ idiot there.

The bright spots in my life at least are the cats, one of whom is sitting next to me being a little cuddle box and not questioning the weird glowy box on my lap that has stolen his spot and is now making weird clicky noises as his master’s paws move in weird motions.

*_*_*

I’ve resolved to get myself out of the rut that I’ve fallen into. In the year since that disaster, I’ve almost completely fallen off the wagon of writing, and have had one day where I slipped and had an actual alcohol bender--and remembered why I now hate the taste of most alcohol. So today, I actually came up with a plan:

See, I was the nerd in school who had the Palm Pilot on zer desk, ever ready to take down the test schedule, changes to the syllabus, all that crap. That thing was basically an accessibility device for me, because my short term memory? It’s not great. And while writing things down is a big help on that, it’s not so great if you turn around and forget where you put the godsdamned piece of paper that you wrote it down on *mumble mutter mumble mutter.* So in combination with my smartwatch and my phone, I’m putting myself on an update schedule and a writing schedule so that I can get back into the habit of doing both...because I tend to forget that there are people out there who want to know that I’m not dead, and I tend to forget that there are people out there who actually do want to read what I have to say, or see what pictures I’ve taken.

I guess what I’m trying to say is...

I’m back! :)

Leslie is usually kinda mellow....and then I put the strawberry daifuku out. #HamsterCollection

A photo posted by Railenthe Zeal (@cyggiestardust) on Apr 19, 2016 at 8:59am PDT

Makeup.

I'm for makeup. I'm for the otherworldly look. I'm for the natural look. I'm for the somehow-blending of the two (How does Bayonetta do it and is it obvious I've got the girl on my MIND). And I can read between the lines when someone expresses an appreciation of that otherworldly aesthetic, that it is NOT ripping the other looks down and tearing them down.

Of course I got to see that point wildly missed the other day.

I could see clearly just how it could misconstrued, though. I could see both sides. I could also see how far it had been blown out of proportion. My perspective as a womanshaped not woman gives me an interesting perspective on the topic. As a teenager I had to sneak in my make up and I had no interest in the natural look. I would put it on at school, and make it otherworldly as possible. Of course this meant carrying Noxzema with me or else wrath as well. So what if I got looks. It was my aesthetic.

It didn't require validation from anyone—man, woman, or other. It's intriguing that others sign my aesthetic, but that's all it is—intriguing. It does give me a little confidence booster to carry out the next resolution I've got. Last year's was getting more comfortable with my self image via selfies—and that got me more fans than haters.

I definitely don't require validation from anyone for my makeup choices, but it will be an adventure.

We are so fresh from having lost a global icon in David Bowie. Tributes all over the world—his star on the Walk of Fame currently littered with glowing glitter (Stardust for Ziggy Stardust), his flat in Berlin, concert venues, an unearthly mural flooded with flowers, plush aliens, people wearing the Aladdin Sane lightning bolt unabashedly. Actual respect for the family’s request for privacy during this time. Until…

Months ago, a story came out about a groupie. A number of them, actually,  but one in particular got a lot of attention, because 1) teenage groupie; 2) teenage groupie makes her sexual debut with David freakin’ Bowie (Blogger’s Note: I hate the term ‘losing one’s virginity for deeply personal reasons and will not be using it); and 3) the legend (because he is one and always will be) is no longer around to explain anything.

Is this problematic behaviour? Yes. It was also 40 years ago, participated in by almost all of the big names—you can see how many names were dropped in that article. It was all over the place. It was pervasive. There was an entire subculture around it.

And this ‘news’ has been out there for months, if not years.

But it gets dragged out now, at the time of the man’s death, when we’re all still reeling from the news.

And now it has become a reason to drag a dead man’s name through the mud. And I see people reveling about it

Source: pitchfork.com

From a capture of the sky of the day he went home, a Belgian radio station—Studio Brussels—and MIRA Public Observatory (that place is a big deal, btw) got to work and set up what you see here: Starman.

A constellation in honor of David Bowie. An honor usually reserved for gods and legends. …looks like at least one of those has been deemed official. 

Square Enix, for a limited time, is offering free copies of Omikron: The Nomad Soul—a game that David  Bowie had extensive input on (his music, too).

In Spring, Carnegie Hall will host two tribute concerts.

Look up.

Everyone says hi.