So, I saw the therapist today. We talked about a number of things, particularly the phenomenon of feeling accomplished. I told her that I have trouble feeling accomplished sometimes about things I do, even though technically they accomplished something. For instance, I have won multiple PHP programming awards from the site phpclasses.org, but, there’s just something to it that I don’t necessarily feel accomplished about. I had this trouble when I was having a hard time too. In fact, right before everything hit the fan, I actually finished a paper doll game for the local library. Unfortunately, they were never able to figure out how to update their site, so it was never featured, but goddammit, I finished it! To this day it’s the one game programming project I’ve finished.
The therapist tells me that she thinks I’m an interesting person, and in fact, she actually said that it seemed a bit of a shame that I was so socially isolated. She realizes that I don’t have a lot of people in my life, so, she thinks I should get out more and meet a few. It’s kind of funny, yesterday I actually had my appointment with my nurse practitioner too. So I talked to her about stuff too, and she was coming to the same conclusion. Unfortunately, I told her don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to making friends.
I will elaborate. The second to last time I attempted to meet somebody I used craigslist. Now, I realize that this wasn’t necessarily the greatest of ideas, and since then I have not used craigslist to try to make platonic friends. But, there I was, meeting some guy at the Noodles and Co that found me in the platonic section of craigslist. The first thing he asks me when he introduces me is, “Did we meet in the platonic section or the other section?” I was like, “Platonic.”
Then he proceeds to tell me about how one summer he was doing cocaine, and how much fun that was. And then another time he came down with an STD, and how, for whatever reason, his orgasms, while he was infected, were incredible. Oy. He talked about how he liked to drink to the point of passing out and not remembering anything after I related to him that I did that once. I was like, “What’s the point though if you can’t remember having a good time?” And he’s like, “No, honey, the fun is piecing back together what you did!” He’s like, “Then you call you friends the next day and you’re like, are we still friends?”
I call him the druggie-slut. He was quite the character, in fact, he told me that he thought if he got drunk around me he’d probably make me cry. I was like, mmm, no I don’t think so, I’ve been around some pretty interesting people. I didn’t tell him I’ve been hospitalized, but I was like, yeah, I don’t think I’m that delicate of a flower (“Hey, it could happen!” ~ Judy Tenuda). Then he tells me about these things called “toga parties.” I was intrigued, so I asked what it was.
Apparently, a bunch of people get together and drink, and sometimes do other drugs (marijuana wasn’t legal in Colorado yet), and then as the night devolves you take down the drapes and wear them like togas. That actually kind of sounded like fun! Then he said it usually ended up in just a bunch of group sex, and I was like, ummm that’s okay, not so fun. I told my mother about him and she said, “Oh my god, how did you get away?” And I was like, “I didn’t.”
I proceeded to tell her that we talked about a bunch of stuff and that we decided if we were the Golden Girls he’d be Blanche, and I’d be Rose (though, I picked Rose only in comparison to him, otherwise I’d like to be Dorothy or Sophia personally). She said, “Are you serious?” I replied, “Hey, druggie-sluts are people too!”
She laughed. So did the nurse practitioner.
Oh man, I got more stories too. The last guy I tried to meet was from some app or another. He was an okay guy, but he was quite fondly interested in my fursuiting. Which was great, I like talking about fursuiting. I thought, when I first met him, that he looked a little odd. He had told me that he was a larger person, and that’s fine by me, my partner isn’t exactly a petite person either. However, when I saw him something seemed slightly out of place. Well, it turns out he was so fascinated by my fursuiting (and also by drag queens, of which I am not one) because he was in a sense fursuiting. He wore fat suits. Yes, honest to god he’d go out and portray himself as a large or fat person on a daily basis. I mean, that’s okay by me, I go out dressed like a freakin’ animal, so who am I to say? And honestly, it wasn’t a big deal, it’s just kind of… different. We hit it off on a few subjects, but we didn’t seem to quite gel on a permanent basis and I haven’t seen him since.
At this point, my nurse practitioner told me that Maus should pick my friends. Man, I haven’t even told her about the Halloween party… shudders
Anyways, my new directive from both my nurse practitioner and my therapist is that I need to get on meetup.com and meet some new people. I told them that I would have to skip the furries on meet-up. They asked why and I related the police hog-tie incident known as the Fox Trot nightmare, where I was injected with Haldol three times in the back of an ambulance. They said, “Oh yeah, okay.”
Actually, the therapist had an interesting insight into it. I told her that it was really easy for me to go to see furries and if I don’t have a foot in the door, like my own suit, or know someone there, I just see everybody with their beautiful fursuits, and their friends, and just being happy dirty little furries… and I feel extremely isolated. I said that I know it’s easy to see someone and not see their problems, and she said, “Well, yeah, but I would think particularly for furries.” I said, “Why?” She said, “It just seems like they’re presenting an idealized version of themselves, as furries, and not necessarily their real selves.” That actually… is kind of fitting.
I described my trouble making friends and that in the long run of things, I haven’t done a great job at it. To be honest, all my “long-term friends” from way back when, well, I don’t talk to them anymore (technically they’re blocked on Facebook, so…) And that’s okay, I’m okay with that, I don’t really need them in my life after all the stuff that’s gone down. Then, of course, I was friends with Nathan Bruce Messer, the con man furry that took me and my partner for a $7000 ride. I told her the story of how basically Nathan used me in many drastic ways, and that I was essentially in denial until I just couldn’t deny it anymore. I told her how when I told him to hit the road, Nathan told me, “Asher, I have a problem. I wish I could be like you and Pablo.” And I said, “I know. But, I can’t help you anymore.” And that was it. I’ve never seen him again, he was out of my life in a week and that was that.
I told her that I have to watch myself when I make friends online or offline. I have a tendency to move super fast, almost what I might call “instantaneous intimacy,” which is not unusual for a Borderline Personality Disorder really. That was the trouble with T, a guy I met in California online through Second Life. He was a furry and an objectivist, and he was much younger than I was. Somehow, it wasn’t meant to be, he and a bunch of other things formed the perfect storm and became a catalyst for my eventual mental breakdown, and I just couldn’t cope. But the trouble was that I got so close to T in such a short amount of time, it wasn’t really a stable relationship from day one. So I have to watch myself so that I don’t do things like that, which, to be honest, is kind of a pain. And I related that to her, that it just seems like so much extra effort sometimes for something that’s not really guaranteed. But, she said, that’s kind of the nature of the beast.
So I guess I’ll be checking out technical meetups. In other news, we talked about me getting a job very briefly, something my mother is also interested in. Well, I described my love-hate relationship with my jobs, and the troubles I’ve had in the past (including being fired twice from the same job.) However, I told her that I thought I’d be interested in something part-time at Starbucks. I mean, that’s a no-brainer, but I told her that every time I talked about it my mother didn’t seem all that enthused. She said, “Maybe she feels you aren’t living up to your potential.” I didn’t think it was that, and upon a conversation afterward, with my mother, my thoughts were confirmed, that wasn’t it. She’s just worried that it’ll go either of two ways, that either I’ll be bored, or that I’ll get too stressed out trying to do everything. I told her that I’ve watched people get interviewed and trained before at the Starbucks I hang out at. We determined that maybe I should just try and see what happens, nothing happens if I don’t try.
So there you are, I’m just a furry in a grocery store:
Here I’m lamenting that somebody spilled such precious coffee beans all over the store floor. Who does that?
What am I looking at?
Oh, that’s what I was looking at.
Remember this folks, one of the most important things.
In other news, I won’t be around the next week from February 1st to the 4th. That’s because I’m going to be attending an event put on by the Shining Stars Foundation. I actually am technically a Shining Star in the organization, having participated in the ski event they put on for young people to help them with their disabilities. At this event, we’re going to be skiing, talking, and doing a bunch of other stuff up in the mountains near my hometown of Handyville. So, yeah, I’ll be doing that.
I did go to a cool concert. Well, really it was a doctoral recital by Maus’ and I’s friend Jennifer Davis. There she sang a lot of different songs, but Maus was featured in one. This is a song they sung together before at the scholarship organization that they both received scholarships from. It’s a duet from The Elixir of Love:
I also got a nice present, finally! I say finally as in, it took a long time to get here (it was lost in the mail on the first transit). But here they are!
I of course, now have them proudly displayed on my “mantle,” if you can call it that. I don’t really have a mantle so. They’re on my bookcase dammit! I also picked up this beauty at the local GameStop:
Well, it’s late, and I should be off. Goodnight!