Pain and Suffering Galore

So I spun up a shitty blog! Welcome, welcome.

Last week I made a whole bunch of the coolest people in the world sing cyberfeminism at me, so I figured I should finally get to it. Hijack the toys from the technocowboys, decide for your own dependencies etc etc.

It’s as good a time as any to get off of Instagram, since it is still very much evil. I’ve been doing some training over there, posting stories every now and then to get over my fear of being publicly perceived, and while I can see the fun in it, and definitely am not immune to the addictive allure of quantified sympathy, I cannot really get over how deeply weird it feels. Instagram is for war and hot people, in rapid succession. Sometimes the hot people will post about war. You never know what you get until you click on their kissable little faces.
I’m glad that my stripped-down instagram experience of only using it at a pc most of the time instead of as an app¹ has basically restricted me to only viewing stories and posting ~original content~, because otherwise I would have overthought it to no end. What I choose to say while which world event is going on, who could be seeing it in what situation. Anything you share is always situated in the media landscape, whatever that means. Everyone is always talking at the same time. It’s pretty strange!

So for the next step on my training plan, I’ll see how it feels to do more long-form content, on a slightly more intentional page. That’s how we got here, to friendly static website host neocities. I’ll try to keep the fiddling to a minimum and actually write something, for once, even if staring at themes all day is very tempting. Maybe one day this will be a pretty kaleidoscope of second-order nostalgia like its brethren here on neocities, but for now, it is what it is. I didn’t even put any eels anywhere yet, despite their unique position as electricity animals, and just overall greatness. I’m sorry, eels! I’ll get to it eventually. First, writing.

At this point, I don’t really enjoy writing. It’s pretty hard; you have to stay focused the whole time, and sometimes you even have to re-read what you wrote. Plus, I have this irritating habit of starting half a sentence and then distracting myself away from the horrid pain of having produced it, leaving it dangling for me to trip over the next time. But I recently submitted my final thesis, and I hate those dumb 60 pages of inflated bullshit with a passion. Which makes me think that there must be some kind of writing I do care about.

I am also sad to report that unfortunately, I do have a deep dark desire to yap within me. But since i trip over my tongue a lot when I get stressed, and I get stressed whenever I have to talk about anything that’s important to me, I figure I should try to practice and prepare in some way, or at least be able to direct people to the handout. I suspect that precious I. was correct when he said that learning how to write will also teach you how to think². Since I’ve become pretty awesome at being perceived now, I guess the next step is self-expression. Formulating some thoughts.
Thoughts about what, you may wonder? Well, most importantly, i want this to be my cozy little space to hate on AI.

If you know me, you’ll know that I’m quite the coward, and therefore not very vocal about my convictions, if I’ll even dare to hold any. But there are two things I want to stand by forever: That Ring Fit Adventure is the best game ever created, and that I hate AI with every fiber of my being. I believe I should cultivate that hatefulness until it grows into a beautiful, spiteful tree. I have so many tabs open right now about so many horrid AI things that I want tucked away in some orderly and petty manner. I’ll throw in some hating on AI men, too³.

And lastly, if all my training here goes well, maybe I’ll even try to get a bit vulnerable here.
A while ago I encountered two somewhat related pieces of media in relatively short succession, which I guess is how a lot of these posts will come about, because I don’t really have all that much going on.
One, switching on the strange smart-tv-curated christmas-movie channel in the house of a charming boy who’d left me with all his keys. A middle-aged hallmark protagonist lady looks out of her car window, forlornly. “I’ve never felt this bad, and I’ve never been better”, she murmurs. Upon realizing this, she turns the car around to reunite with her recently-widowed love interest, just in time to join him and his precocious white-blond daughter in that little tent precocious children reminisce about their dead mother in. I’m not sure if that is how you should feel in the final minutes of your hallmark relationship, but it kind of struck me because it was something I remembered thinking in the throes of some heartache – that I was hurting in ways that made me feel deeply what I wanted, which was a very new feeling at the time: That the sadness suddenly had an outline, instead of being this big blanket over everything. Even physically, it felt like a whole new way of crying. Of course, what changed the most about the crying was starting to do it around others.
And then the other week I read a blog post by Kaleb Horton, of D*lbert fame (rest in peace). And he was just deeply sad and in pain and heartbroken, and it made me cry because I was also sad and in pain and heartbroken. And I guess I want in on that.

I’m not sure there’s any real connection between these two bits of media exposure. I don’t really know how to tie them together, either. I’ll work on it, and try to endure the horrid pain of writing badly in the meantime.
If you’ve come this far, thanks for taking the time for my ramblings. The next post will be about horses, and then after that probably some blogging and some epstein stuff⁴ (which also hopefully gives me a bit of a deadline to push against, what with the year of the horse and all that). Stay tuned!