This Is The New Shit
I originally wrote this “new” re-branded post for my “new” re-branded blog on July 12, 2018. It was in hopes of launching a fresh look, both for the site and in terms of my outlook. I can now happily say that, about a year and a half later, the “re-branding” vision has finally achieved fruition. Since I’m always a sucker for posterity (and holding on to shit) you can still continue to access my old blog “My Beautiful Life” at https://archive.wunk.me/. All the old URLs will continue to automatically redirect to that archive blog.
This post was actually rewritten once before, approximately a month-and-a-half ago. The very next day I experienced a massive server failure at the hands of 1&1 Ionos Hosting (that I will write about soon, as it was a terribly frustrating experience and I don’t wish it to happen to anyone else.) Due to two hard drive’s zonking out at the same time I lost pretty much everything despite having a RAID installation. Luckily, I had backed up most, but not all, of my server information several weeks prior. I switched to an entirely new host, who back up their servers regularly on top of the back-ups I make myself. Then I re-installed EVERYTHING (gigabytes worth) and set it all back up again.
A New Blog, But The Same Channel
I did finally figure out a name for my new blog: “World Of Wunk,” as well as a new visual theme. This theme captures more of my creative spirit than the previous theme did. I hope that the trendy new “dark” mode of it will be more appealing to readers. The tag line “Strove For A Beautiful Life; Got A Whole World” is in reference to the previous blog “My Beautiful Life.”
When I was writing that blog I was partially recovering from an incredibly massive depressive episode that had lasted two and a half years. I detail more on my about page, but long story short, it has taken a little less than a decade to recover. In that depression, I had somehow managed to just about psychologically delete my entire identity, and so, in recovering I strove to achieve a potentially new identity and maintain a “beautiful” life (and all its friends.)
Now I firmly feel that in many ways I have achieved in regaining my identity, mostly just as it was. I strove for a beautiful life, but it’s turned out that I have gotten much more than I had hoped; I got a whole world back. As this new re-branded blog progresses I hope I will be able to share with you this vast world I have discovered. It can sure be a lot of fun.
More Revealing Than Before
My last post in my archive blog was “Eighteen-Year-Old Truths.” I honestly feel that it is the best post I ever made on it. It’s a beautiful end-cap to a four-year-long project. However, with my new outlook, I would like to offer a bit of background, and a bit of an epilogue (prologue?)
The individual to whom I allude beyond Cutefoxie that was also going through a hard time was my father, Scott. I call my father Scott, and yes, he is my biological father. I just refer to him as Scott and will continue to do so in this writing, as it’s easier for me.
How About Somebody Else For A Change?
As an online denizen, I am not naturally public about my grief. I purposefully do not broadcast it out. I have no desire to share it with others or even want others to give me special consideration over it. Despite these personal traits, I do feel now that this is important. I think that something of this should be expressed or recorded in at least a small way.
Scott, unfortunately, died this last year (2018) two days before his sixty-second birthday. He died in the home that he had built for his family. It was that day that I rushed home, three hours away. It was that day that I hugged him for the first and last time in my adult life. And it was that very early next morning, while it was still dark, that I heard Scott take his last breath. He was downstairs in the living room on his hospital bed.
Maybe I Had Always Known
In some ways, I had known, very subconsciously at first, that this had been looming on the horizon for quite a long time, maybe my entire life. I had been in denial for most of it, but you can’t ultimately deny reality. When it finally happened, I was very torn, very sad, and very surprised. I’m still surprised sometimes to this day. It was just never anything I had seriously imagined could happen, particularly the way that it did. But, it did.
It’s difficult to not want to kick yourself when you look back on some things after something like this. I remember clearly when my doctor, Dr. Matsukawa of Summitstone, had decided to up my Zyprexa from 2.5 mg to 25-30 mg (I couldn’t take higher than 25). I turned into a blubbering mess of terrible anxiety and an inability to think straight or break anything down. So, I went home for a breather so that Mom could take care of me until I saw a new doctor (Dr. Shannon at the Wholeness Center, now retired).
While I was there, I saw Scott. I saw how he would lay on the couch, how he would barely eat anything, and how much older he looked. You’d think I’d come out of my head just enough to realize this person right in front of me was dying. But, no, I couldn’t, I was so absorbed and so enmeshed in myself I couldn’t even fit another person into my head. Not even the most important person. I look back on that and it’s difficult not to want to say to myself, “Geez, Asher, you think you could’a spent ten seconds thinkin’ ’bout someone else for a change?”
So, I thought maybe I’d talk about Scott just a bit now for that change.
The Man Known As Scott
All my life, I’ve had difficulty describing Scott to other people. I’ve tried to do so to friends, nurses, doctors, therapists, acquaintances, and many others. They wanted to understand where I came from, and I always seemed to fall short. This is the first time in my life I shall attempt a description in public, and probably the last.
On the one hand, Scott was a very caring person, but on the other, he could also be a very hard person. On one side he could be incredibly intelligent and capable, but likewise, sometimes he couldn’t see further than his own feelings about things. He was never singularly one thing, but a gestalt of spectrums of increasing complexity.
It’s Like Peeling An Onion
Having worked for the town for thirty years, Scott was well known in the community, but in a few ways, he was also unknown. There were layers and aspects of Scott that he only showed a few very close and trusted people. These included his frustration, his anger, his fear, and his love. Just as the man could produce the most wonderful laugh, he could paradoxically possess the most stubborn of hatred. In some ways, like me, that embarrassed him. I was lucky enough in my life to have heard on many occasions an uncensored Scott. This was a man who wasn’t going to bullshit me (as he did no one) no matter my age. He’d proceed to layout quite hard to swallow but very powerful wisdom.
Though he wasn’t always 100% right, his intellectual wavelength, and deep fundamental insight were a force to be reckoned with. They were also something unique to learn from (which I endeavored to do all the time). There are those who think he didn’t talk much, and maybe he didn’t talk much to them. He said a fairly large number of words to me, All of them offered insight into the world, into myself, and into him.
Scott could be, and often was, a wonderful person in terms of integrity and doing what was right. Unfortunately, any successes were ultimately undermined by his stubbornness and his anger. I’m not saying that he was always the kindest person, but it seems to me he cared so much about everything he did. He dedicated thirty years of his life providing affordable and clean water to the town, and for his family. He never gave much thought to his further career. Perhaps, in a way, while doing all this, he forgot or didn’t know how to take care of himself. In a sense, he had turned away from a world that had been unwilling to acknowledge him for what he was early in his adulthood. To the credit of his consistency, he never really turned back.
Scott’s legacy is one of hard work, intelligence, capability, vision, anger, frustration, and love (though much of that remained unexpressed.) Maybe I could not see Scott and what he was doing when I was an anxious basket-case. I’d like to think I could learn now, though, to see. I need to see how his passion, his love, and his pain became so distorted. All of this for the hopes that mine does not become the same. Sadly, I feel I can only hope to even begin to fill the large boots he left behind spiritually and intellectually.
The Power We All Have
If only Scott had known how to take advantage of just how powerful he really was. Perhaps things might be different now. All that’s left now, unfortunately for me, is bittersweetness, and sadness. Sadness that not only did Scott perhaps never quite get what he wanted. Bittersweetness also because I can never hear his childhood stories again, his crusty moralizing, his laugh, his constant understated way, or his ranting. Sometimes, all of that is just a lesson enough, and all you can do is miss him.
A New Hope, A New Blog
I’ve thought for quite a while that I’ve been afraid to express myself in certain ways. Somehow I rationalize that into some form of, “Well, but, you don’t really have anything to say.” However, I’m beginning to think that it’s a subconscious ruse. It’s set-up by my own fear of failure and/or success. The world keeps changing, whether someone like Scott is here or not. Some of the narratives are so out of this world that’s it’s almost impossible to NOT have something to say about them.
When I first wrote this original post, as I noted above, I was “attending” the Vocal Arts Festival in 2018. This is an event put together by the Opera Theatre of the Rockies and hosted at Colorado College. I put attending in quotes because I was not a participant per se. Rather, I was tagging along with my opera singing husband who WAS a participant. The organizers were kind enough to be able to put together a way for me to stay with my husband through the program. It is very difficult for me in many ways (including mental health) to be apart from my husband for a long time.
Early Hours In Hot Dorm Rooms
While I was there and away from my usual routine, I had a lot of conversations with my friends Kristen and Shannon (both also opera singers.) From these, some things started to generally develop. Over my lifetime I have had a voluminous number of ideas, some more memorable and outstanding than others. I have been refining them over that lifetime. When I was in Colorado Springs, at the festival, I began to experience new inspirations and perspectives! These would quickly solidify over the coming ten months into the projects I have now. You’ll note that ten months doesn’t cover the entire period between VAF and now.
However, it was there, in the early hours of the mornings in the dorm room that I began to experience or see new visions. The dorm rooms were hot. We had to put a fan in the window to get air to flow through it at all since there was no air conditioning. The night would descend and everyone would retreat back into their dorm rooms. The light from the window and moon would glow blue in the darkness. Our two-bed dorm room was cast in an eerie atmosphere. I could hear my husband sleeping with his snoring. There I was, sweaty and looking up at the strange ceiling thinking about MY future, my projects, my work, much like the other artists.
Readers of this godforsaken blog might remember that I wish to someday create a great computer game, and that I also aspire to be an artist or writer in other fields. They might also know or remember other ideas I’ve had such as a constructed language, a programming language, a band, or my fursuiting shenanigans. And who doesn’t remember Poochie Cures Cancer? Well, it was during this time that a great number of my ideas solidified around a singular core. Before, many of them were disparate and able to be flit to and fro without much concern or connection. Now, in many ways currently unlistable here, they all find purchase in a central plot.
So what is it I want to do? I’ve decided to finally create and work on my constructed language (and programming language) Chraki, which as it develops will hopefully serve as a springboard for a number of other computer-related projects. I also have decided to finally make my “fursuit for life” (as WikiFur puts it) in some way; this time being of my own “fursona” as opposed to a random character. With this fursuit altering my outside appearance, I hope to make YouTube videos, most particularly of a musical nature in my band Psychoelectric Artonauts. I also hope that it can be the beginning of my online television station HUGNS.
So What Are You Saying?
So, wait, I’m saying that I want to be a game designing anthropomorphic furry computer scientist rock star?
Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.
And so, I finally reflect on my old blog, and what I’m going to do with it. My previous blog, My Beautiful Life: And All Its Friends, was actually more “negative” than “positive.” I put negative and positive in quotes because in my mind those terms have certain connotations, but I mean them in a very general sense. At some point in the last several weeks, I realized that I have spent quite a bit of time on this blog writing about my mental illness, my struggles to be a whole person, my sadness/anger/self-loathing, and so on and so on. I mean, I know I’ve written about many other things, but, you know in the gist of it all, it’s true. Don’t get me wrong, those were good posts, but it’s time to move on.
Fluff Up That Tail!
Those posts can provide as a backdrop in an archive, as they are now, but now, this is the new shit baby. So hold on to your Starbucks light ice trente black cold brew, strap on your leather biker straight jacket, fluff up your tail, and step into the phantasmagoric Ferris Wheel of future shock known tentatively as the World of Wunk.
The title of this post was of course inspired by Marilyn Manson, and I’ve included the beautiful video below:
So, I hope you enjoy the new content, the new look, and the new attitude. Let’s see what we can tackle!