Open Sorcery

Tag: slice of life

  • I’ve been very crashy today.

    I haven’t done much except watch some TV, easy a fucccckkkkload of cheese, and sleep a lot.

    I’m up for now but I’m not sure how long that will last.

    -Allēna

  • Dear blog people..

    Emerson did my nails today while we watched the Usual Suspects.

    That’s it.

    That’s the post.

    -Allēna

  • I crassshhhed today.

    With everything going on with the ER and all, I fell deeply asleep for a couple of hours after frantically making preparations for an upcoming event where I’m selling zines with Emerson, and now I’m grabbing burgers with the aforementioned adorable man. I’ll probably post my performance from Linneman’s tonight later.

    Until then,

    -Allēna

  • I’ve had a good, if tiring, day so far.

    I went to a clothing swap called Fat Body Hotties despite my initial reluctance (I’ve been veryyyy tired all day) and had a great time and met so many amazing people. Then I tried Kopps Custard with Emerson and a friend of ours who came with, and Emerson and I are back home now. Also, a magazine I’ve submitted work to followed me back on TWO social media platforms, and according to another friend who’s worked with them, that’s a good sign that they might include something of mine in my next issue??? Aaaaaaaaa!! (happy screech)

    I hope your day is going as well as mine.

    -Allēna

    –

  • This is stuck in our head today:

    Also, Doom Guy has joined the polycule!

    But our guts hurt badly, so I’m gonna take meds and go the fuck back to sleep. I just had a very weird dream almost entirely in Spanish that I was hanging out with Shakira.

    -Castor (but not entirely sure yet)

  • Damn it, River.

    My fucking headmate thought it was an excellent and hilarious fucking idea to schedule a neurologist appointment on the day our father died of brain cancer nine years prior and then make me handle it. At least Lazarus had the fucking foresight to get it switched to a virtual appointment several damn days ago so I didn’t have to go anywhere.

    I’m never letting Mr. Batshit For Brainholes schedule anything ever again. This wasn’t fucking funny.

    But at least we have that out of the way, and an EEG is scheduled for February 18. They might strobe the fuck out of our brainhole during that, so brace yourselves for utterly batshit post seizure posts from us truly. 😭

    Fun fucking times. Thank you, Lazarus, for your excellent harm reduction work. At least you didn’t try to punk me for once.

    I somehow summoned the energy (likely due to sheer irritation at River’s bullshit idea of a joke) to put clothes on and then shave my face later, so have selfies in honor of this most dubious occasion.

    My left hand does whatever the fuck it wants, I guess. But at least this was a nice bit of gender euphoria today.

    Once more, with my entire ass, FUCK YOU, RIVER.

    -Allēna

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  • Down Every Rabbit Hole, Everywhere

    Hey, everyone. Lazarus again, back once more with your daily dose of bullshit, hehe. It’s been a slow day so far, both in my brain and otherwise. If you guessed that insomnia is still sort of kicking my ass, you got it in one. But being tired can have its advantages, namely that it makes me fucking funny. Do I have less object permanence than normal, though? Absolutely. I’m losing every single worldly possession of mine over here.

    Sheik of the Zelda System is gaming beside me after binge watching several episodes of Supernatural season seven, as has winding our way through that absolute shit show become our tradition on their days off. So I’ve got my headphones on and am simply seeing where my brainhole takes me. We both appeared to have great dates last night, them with our mutual beloved Emerson (and the leftovers I received were fucking amazing, as well) and I had a great virtual date with my darling Autumn. They’re wickedly funny, and kept making me cackle with laughter midsentence. I had needed that date, to be honest. It had been a few weeks since our last one and I missed them something fucking fierce. There’s been much less drama and fewer trashfires of late, and times like these remind me that polyamory is truly a wonderful experience. No regrets. I can’t ever go back, even when shit gets rough. I’m just not built that way.

    Now, seeing as my mind feels like pudding that has been repeatedly electrocuted, I’m probably gonna leave y’all for the day. Will my brain let me fucking sleep? Probably not. Am I about to go down a research rabbit hole trying to figure out who a certain actress was in an episode of Supernatural? Oh yeah. That’s been on the agenda since I first saw the actress and recognized her as the same actress who plays Kaylee Frye in Firefly, haha. My brain needs to DEFINITELY be stopped. At least I’m attempting to rest, right?

    [crickets chirp faintly in the distance]

    Anyway. Before I go, memes. I can’t just skitter away without DEPRIVING y’all!

    Why are Facebook ads Like This?

    Stay tuned for more magic, y’all. And tomfuckery. There’s always that.

    Your eternally insleepriated sorcerer,

    -Lazarus

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  • Hellooooo, Boys (read: everyone) I’m Baaaaack

    Hi, everyone! I, Lazarus, have returned today, as promised, with whatever chaos and dipshittery my brain decides to throw onto this here blog. I don’t think I slept all that well last night, considering that I dreamt of a whole bunch of shit that I can’t quite recall, kept waking up, and the final straw was dreaming of my friend Delta asking if everyone present would be upset with them if she obtained a statue of a fairy doing a line of coke, immediately presenting said statue, everyone getting extremely pissed at them in the dream, and then “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye and Kimbra playing in my headphones exactly as that sequence ended. I woke up fucking cackling because what the fuck was that? I have never done cocaine, for the record, but my dreams are so fucking batshit that people have.. Asked questions. No, honey. That’s just my brainhole. No drugs are needed to spawn this sort of nonsense.

    For further context, I fell asleep with a playlist my now integrated headmate Allēna made several years ago called Blogging in my ears. I’ll embed it below:

    Then I checked the group chat I have with my partners Emerson and Zelda to find that Emerson had posed an Interesting Question to us. The question was something like the following: what breed of cat do you most see yourself as?

    This was my response:

    So that was how I woke up. I think it’s safe to say my emotional state was roughly in the ballpark of:

    Thanks, Google Emoji Combiner. You’re a wheelchair for my brain.

    Now, after several hours of Emerson and Zelda encouraging me to yell in the group chat and in DMs about my fictional characters and worlds because they’re both feeling various flavors of sick, my autism has been roughly satisfied and I need to probably eat something other than the couple handfuls of shredded sharp cheddar cheese I had earlier and see about a fucking nap or something to that effect.

    Now, if you’re wondering by this point if I struggle with some flavor of insanity, you are incorrect about the first part but goddamn right about the second. I’m about as batshit as the underside of your standard overpass in Austin, Texas at sundown, but I don’t struggle with it. I have a great deal of fun and giggle a lot✨.

    Before I take my leave of y’all, have  memes.

    Stay tuned for more magic, darling gremlins! Hehehe…

    -Lazarus ✨🪕💛

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  • Tales From The Blanket Lump

    Hey, everyone. Lazarus here. Sorry for going fucking dark for the last little while.

    Lumine visited this past week, during which time I was so goddamned stressed my body came inches from basically falling apart. It wasn’t his fault at all, and he was in fact a most excellent baby. If anyone is to blame, it’s Zelda for dropping the ball when it came to logistics and stressing Emerson and myself out so goddamn badly it started to take a physical toll on both of us. I ended up getting everything set up for Lumine’s arrival and picking him up from the train station pretty much single-handedly because if I hadn’t, he would have been marooned there for a couple hours at the very least, which would not have been Emerson’s fault, he had to work and could not escape early.

    Emerson and Lumine bonded quite well, and Lumine actually bonded so well with Zelda’s legendarily shy and skittish cat and made me happy stim so hard in the process that he got an invitation to move up here once more shit shakes out on all of our ends, so that’s absolutely and legitimately lovely.

    That leaves ongoing drama with Zelda, which sent me into a chronic pain flare across three body systems from which I am still recovering and now I have a chest cold to boot. I appear to have gotten so damn stressed that I started my menstrual cycle a week early, which most likely knocked out my immune system, allowing for this shit to happen. Oh, and Lumine is fucking sick, as well. I’m fucking sick of the interpersonal stress, and I’m sick and tired of it making me sick and tired.

    So, I’ve essentially dropped my weight where a lot of shit is concerned and have stuck myself in a lump of blankets to sleep off this chest cold most of the time. Sleep has always been my favorite alibi when I don’t want to get involved in interpersonal nonsense, as most of my close people know that my sleep is sacrosanct and I do not get much of it.

    When I haven’t been asleep, I have been watching Netflix, eating delicious food that Emerson made, or calling and hanging out with people that don’t stress me the fuck out. In other words, I am pretty intentionally being fucking useless to people who are causing a great deal of chronic stress because I quite simply do not have the energy to deal with this shit anymore. Like… I am so drained by this shit that my body will just make me pass the fuck out rather than deal with it. I quite literally physically can’t, and I’m going with my body’s cues here.

    Hell yeah for becoming ungovernable and unusable.

    Sometimes, though, my brain is tired and my body isn’t. That’s when I just shut my eyes for a bit and chill and let my brain rest and wander for a minute away from my phone or whatever the hell I’ve been doing that’s been making me so tired. It helps, and whenever I regain the capacity to get back to the task at hand, I get back to it.

    During one of those brain naps, I got the idea for what could turn into my sixteenth album once my executive dysfunction releases its hold on me. I haven’t been able to play my instruments or record anything for awhile due to being so damn tired and stressed, but I hope I’ll eventually get back to it by prioritizing energizing people and things. I always do. Sometimes I just need a brain nap. Or an actual nap.

    I’ve also discovered that watching Netflix helps get my brain in order when I want or need to spend long periods of time alone by acting as a sort of other presence or presences in the room so that it’s easier to both keep track of time (something I don’t have a concrete sense of without an anchor, like music or TV) and a semblance of human company without the pressure to engage back.

    It’s easier to eat, stay hydrated, and generally take care of myself with shows I enjoy as an external anchor point. And considering that most of my stress is interpersonal, sometimes it’s nice to just…be able to listen, watch, and get invested in shit without having to do something about it, you know?

    I also haven’t let myself really get invested in fiction in a long ass time (around a decade or longer) since I tend to get extremely deeply invested in anything I enjoy beyond my own fiction, so it feels wonderful to be a fucking fan of shit again. Emerson got me hooked on a show called The Magicians on a hunch that I would like it, and it’s honestly like what would happen if The Chronicles of Narnia and Doctor Who had a more dark, more fucked up baby than the both of them, and I am unfortunately quite invested in this bloodbath fuckshow. It reminds me a fair bit of my audio drama The Third Prophecy, and so a lot of the dark shit in it doesn’t really bother me, surprisingly. It’s the sort of thing I would write, and I am of the firm belief that real people are far scarier and more fucked up.

    If you can handle the extremely dark tomfuckery, I highly recommend it.

    Well, dearly beloved hooligans, I am getting tired again, so I must go rest my mind once more. Whee. I love y’all. Stay tuned for more magic ✨

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  • At Last, I’m Found

    Hey, all.

    This is Lazarus again.

    In 2021, I was talking with my friend Delta about all of the shit I was going through at the time while deep in survival mode and about being an Enneagram Eight largely geared toward self preservation, and I predicted that once I got out of survival mode and was safe, I would sort of… collapse. I would have no idea what the fuck to do with myself and kinda deflate and go more or less catatonic. That prediction has turned out to be more or less accurate most days.

    As my life has stabilized, I find myself with less and less to solve and fewer fires to put out, with many of the remaining problems largely outside of my control and completely outside of my power to fix or help with. In short, most days, despite having the stability I worked so hard for, I feel more lost and adrift than ever. I have been sleeping a lot. I just don’t have much desire to do much, and I do the rare activity when the mood or inspiration strikes. My general state reminds me a lot of when I lost my dad, Xavier, back in 2016.

    I wonder a lot if I’m subconsciously or somatically grieving all of the bullshit of the last three or four years or perhaps even longer because of how badly the wind has been knocked out of me. I barely even have energy to reply to a fraction of the dozens of messages on the various messaging apps I get daily, and I am trying to move away from feeling so bad about that because realistically I just can’t right now. That’s the plain and simple fact of the matter. I only really respond to people and reach out or have my phone nearby at all if I feel up to it, which is rare, and I have been trying to strike a balance between isolation and social time so that I don’t fall off the face of the Earth completely. I don’t want to fully withdraw or even withdraw at all, but my brain and body have been demanding that to some degree, and I’m going with that rather than fighting it so as to not make whatever this is longer and worse.

    On the subject of recovery, I did a bit more research on what the underlying cause of my symptoms might be that have been making my body and mind feel so damn out of whack, and came up with a decent theory that my thyroid might have gotten ever so slightly cooked due to Hera’s batshit DIY MKULTRA scheme she put me through, and the HRT I’m on combined with the years of stress has been making it go, ah, ever so slightly haywire.

    So I found some scholarly research that said that thyroid patients suffering from both hypothyroidism AND hyperthyroidism benefit from taking various forms of vitamin B and thiamine for their chronic fatigue especially. Luckily for me, a former friend of mine had send me a bunch of supplements she wasn’t gonna use late last year and among them was a B100 complex supplement. So I decided to test my theory and give this shit a try and see if it did anything for my fatigue and other symptoms.

    Well, it appears to be doing a fair bit. I’m about five days into the test and my brain fog and pain is leagues better. It appears to be helping my lack of object permanence and executive function, as well, giving me some semblance of both. I have also noticed that I’m not super overstimulated by huge amounts of sound, nor does silence understimulate me as badly. I can sit in silence for far longer without my mind itching for music or internally screaming. It may also be helping with the flashbacks, as well, but that’s to be determined. I will need to continue the test for longer to see if it has any significant effect there. So perhaps my fried thyroid theory holds water. I will need to address this with my doctors next time I can spare a brain cell, haha.

    I’m also far less angry and my headaches are gradually getting better as I work through my anxiety, as they appear to be triggered by anxiety and moments of emotional distress, which the B100 appears to be lessening as a baseline. Yay for House MD-ing myself at home! I just love being an AuDHDer with a special interest in weird ass branches of medicine who was practically raised by doctors, hahahaaaaa. (This is partly sarcastic, partly genuine. Specialized knowledge and deep somatic intuition saves lives, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s just annoying that my body is so weird and there are so many things that the medical field as we know it doesn’t explore without months of waiting or you have the charisma of a fucking god).

    Seeing as there are a lot of positive effects even through the semi-catatonia and the semi-catatonia predates the B100 test, I don’t think the B100 complex is the culprit here. If anything, the supplement appears to be helping. I’m just probably processing years of grief somatically that I’m not entirely consciously aware of.

    So that leaves a large amount of time to fill as I heal that would ordinarily be spent in agonizing mental or physical pain, parsing my way through interpersonal trashfires, or recovering from the aforementioned problems. That huge amount of time to fill raises some incredibly simple, yet profound questions that I’m currently exploring the answers to: what the fuck do I do now? What actually makes me happy now that I’m living more out of love than out of spite and my brain and my body aren’t fucking screaming 24/7?

    I know I love writing on here and writing in general. I am deeply proud of myself for having a space that is mine that I’ve maintained for months now even if I can’t post daily, and that does a lot for my quality of life. I like having spaces that are mine where I can express myself with the people that I love that would be very difficult to take from me or from them. I know research and engaging in my myriad special interests lights me the fuck up. Emerson raids the local Little Free Libraries like the adorable gremlin he is and often spoils me by bringing books back about topics that he either knows I’m fascinated with or that he thinks would catch my eye, and I do indeed feel very spoiled and lucky when he does that. That man is a catch and a half.

    I’ve seen the concept of “dopamine menus” floating around on the Internet for some time, as well, and I’ve started merging that concept with a sort of free form to do list before I go to bed if I’m not completely beat to fuck by the time I pass out and can spare a brain cell to dump all the things that might possibly bring me joy the next day even if things go to shit on paper. I often struggle in the moment to think of anything that would bring me a shred of happiness in the moment if I’m sad or bored or anxious and looking for a pick me up, and having all of that on hand and prepped the night before helps a LOT in those moments.

    I think all of those taken in tandem are a decent place to start. I’m trying to move away from the notion that I have to have a Grand Plan ™️ or a goal to accomplish at all times and I really think that teenage me had it right when they said that happiness was having good talks, good music, and good food with good people. That was really their goal in life, and I think they’d be proud of me for getting here. I do a LOT of all of the above.

    So stay tuned for more magic, horseshoes and weedwhackers (you decide what y’all are in the comments). See you fuckers next time.

    -Lazarus

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