Colored Ink





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about me

name: n/a
aliases: kit (and various iterations thereof)
age: 24
location: oakland, ca
hobbies: reading, writing, doodling, video games
likes: reading, writing, doodling. being lazy, mushrooms, animals (especially dogs), food, laughing loudly in public, sushi, long walks in the sunshine, cycling along the San Francisco Bay.
dislikes: nuts, stinging/biting insects, religious fanatics, violence, olives, teenagers that let old people stand on the bus
contact: coloredink(at)gmail.com

wishlist

a good night's sleep
money
stress-free life
hardon-kardon speakers
world peace

realistic wishlist

transmetropolitan vol 5-6, 9-10
japanese knife
new shoes

long-term obsessions

comics
slash
writing
reading
music
animals
life and living

current obsession(s)

writing a novel

currently reading

the hound of the baskervilles by sir arthur conan doyle

currently playing

final fantasy viii

currently watching

kino's journey
baccano!
m*a*s*h
Monday, February 8, 2010 [link]
12:15 p.m.
listening to: "Float" - Flogging Molly


Day by day it gets easier. I'm not scared all the time now.

I've been writing again, which helps. Left to my own devices I will, in fact, sit around and think about depression, which never goes anywhere good. I've also been watching an inordinate amount of the 1984 Granada Sherlock Holmes TV series. Jeremy Brett does my heart good.

The urge to self-medicate is occasionally extremely strong. I worry about myself sometimes. I don't drink, because drinking tears down all the walls that I carefully built between myself and my anxieties, but I have other vices that bring peace to an extremely busy mind. But these don't solve the problem. After the high is gone, you're still miserable.





Friday, January 22, 2010 [link]
10:23 p.m.
listening to: nothing


Today, on my way home, I was jubilant. The sky was clearing, for once I'd gotten a sufficient amount of sleep, and it was Friday. (I work on Saturdays, but Saturdays at my job are hardly work at all. I'd almost enjoy it if I weren't generally bored out of my mind.) But even on my best days--the days where I almost feel like my old self, before I spent a week almost catatonic with fear and self-loathing--there's a lurking fear: this could end. I could be depressed again.

There's a horror. That was not a fun time. I don't want to repeat it. But there doesn't seem to be much use guarding against it. Last week, once, I felt my thoughts spiraling downward and I thought, Stop it. Stop that train of thought right now. And it halted, and my mind was blissfully silent, and I was heady with my own power. I thought, I do have control over this. I can beat it.

Even if I'm depressed again, it won't be the end of the world. I survived it once. I can do it again.





Tuesday, January 19, 2010 [link]
02:26 p.m.
listening to: "Accidntel Deth" - Rilo Kiley


Some days it hurts to be alive, but some days it's a delicious ache. Some days I want to weep for joy.





Thursday, January 14, 2010 [link]
03:41 p.m.
listening to: "A Better Son/Daughter" - Rilo Kiley


I don't want to be like this anymore.






Tuesday, January 12, 2010 [link]
03:09 p.m.
listening to: "A Better Son/Daughter" - Rilo Kiley


I opened up this field thinking I would write some more about depression, but actually I just wanted an excuse to blog this song.

I'm taking it one day at a time. But I can't forget, because there were lessons learned in that one terrible week where I finally understood why they call it an illness.

I'm a different person now than I was two weeks ago. There is something terribly fragile about everything. I don't want it to stick, but I hope that it will.





Sunday, January 10, 2010 [link]
09:39 p.m.
listening to: "Don't Give Up" - Peter Gabriel & Kate Bush


When I wasn't paralyzed with fear and an inexplicable grief, I was filled with dark red thoughts. I couldn't pick up a knife because I was afraid of what I'd do with it; you couldn't leave an open can on the counter because I'd be tempted by that sharp edge. Not that it mattered, anyway, because I spent most of the time in bed, where it was warm and safe and small.

It's not about death. It's almost never about dying. It's about attention, or control, or punishing yourself.

It brought back a lot of memories of high school, actually, and the friends and acquaintances that hurt themselves with safety pins and housekeys, red raw wounds across their wrists and arms. Back then it was hip, in a self-absorbed teenage kind of way. It gave you some kind of cred. But I went through my self-harm phase in middle school, and by high school I was, in my own words, "over it." I'd gotten it out of my system. I didn't think I'd have those thoughts ever again. They weren't real, that first time. They were thoughts I wanted to be real, because I wanted my father to pay attention to me.

I feel better today, and by better I mean color has seeped back into the world. But it doesn't feel like the world will ever be right again. How can it be, when I've felt like that? When I can feel like that again?





Wednesday, January 6, 2010 [link]
05:17 p.m.
listening to: "Konya wa Hurricane" - Bubblegum Crisis


I am exhausted, but I think I am content. Earlier today, I was even happy.





Friday, January 1, 2010 [link]
12:59 a.m.
listening to: nothing


I'm angry. I'm angry I'm angry I'm angry, there's no one to talk to about it, and so I'm just going to have to go to bed angry and that probably means I'll wake up depressed tomorrow. Fuck. I hate this. I've been thinking about antidepressants lately and I won't lie, it's because I wish there was a magical pill to make this go away, to make it so that I didn't have to worry about this anymore. I know it doesn't work that way and these pills are far from magic, but can't a girl dream?

Rabbit rabbit, I guess. It's all I can do.





my livejournal


blogs better than mine


dailykos
feministe
feministing
freakonomics
gen
neil gaiman
sociological images

places to go

friends

book of genism
shike.org
pirates' alley
yaoiville

non-friends

casualvillain.com
jenwang.net
mooncalf
quirkybird
shadowscapes
twoflowerian fiction
verabee

comics

9 chickweed lane
candorville
doonesbury
foxtrot
frazz
pearls before swine
zits
something positive
achewood
penny arcade
faux pas
three panel soul
digger
kagerou

other sites i visit with some frequency

explodingdog
gamefaqs
livejournal
orisinal
postsecret
wikipedia
google



i owe my stress to pitas.com