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femme as fuck

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My New Year’s Eve outfit had a cute reveal

How It Feels To Abandon Yourself

I deactivated my twitter today.

Please, hold your applause. Allow me to pontificate a bit first, then you may shower me in praise for doing the bare minimum for my mental health.

When I first got onto tumblr in 2011, it was so incredibly freeing. I could share exactly the aesthetics I wanted to uplift. I could put my thoughts out there in formatted blog posts. I could share quips in the tags of posts I shared. It felt like I was in control of every aspect of my identity, my aspirations, I set up a queue schedule so my posts would be evenly spaced and I wouldn’t spam people’s feeds. I had such a handle of who I was and what I wanted and how I wanted to express it. 

oh shit what’s that oh no it’s the tumblr exodus of the 2010s

When I went to twitter, I had to delete most of my tweets and revamp the whole thing, because twitter wasn’t a place on the internet where you lived your life and shared it with people, back in 2015 twitter was where I went to depression post, shitpost, and stalk each person that was ever involved with team starkid. But when the exodus happened, I had to learn how to live my online life on twitter, not only that, but I was on twitter at the behest of someone who was once very important to me, and for years my identity, specifically on twitter, was tied to this person. So I never really felt like myself, I never felt the same sense of comfort in myself or my expression like I did on tumblr. But it’s where the zeitgeist was, and you just had to be there. And when I went there, I deleted my whole tumblr. I abandoned myself. I burned the most comprehensive record of who I was from 2011 to 2018. 

When I did this I had no idea that it would be like burning every journal I ever wrote, but worse, because I’ve never written a journal, so it’s actually the closest thing I’ve ever had to one. But I didn’t realize how devastating that is, until **dunn dunn** 

The Breakup

in 2021 my best friend, my father figure, my BDSM dominant, and far too many more “my”s made the correct assessment that our relationship had run it’s course, and it was time for it all to end. And then he deleted any archive of our correspondences so not even I could not access them. I dunno I never understood telegram but as far as I know, that shit is gone forever. And that broke me inside a bit. Not only was this relationship over, the entire chronological dialogue of the entire thing was eradicated. It felt like someone wrote you the most valuable stack of letters you hold dear and then snuck into your home and burned them. But worse because we never wrote letters it’s all in those chats and they’re just gone. This is the first time that I realized the impermanence of all of this is existentially horrifying. Things I have poured my hopes, my dreams, my desires, my fears, hell my fucking soul, things I have poured my fucking soul into, just don’t exist anymore. 

I always loved the scene from The Lord of the Rings where Bilbo uses his ring to dazzle his fellow hobbits once more, and taking the most self aggrandizing exit from the pleasant fakeness of hobbit life. What I am trying to say, that he did in fact have the charisma uniqueness nerve and talent. This fucking camp queen. Bilbo has successfully made his way back into Plato’s cave without getting killed but then heckles the people making shadows on the wall cause it’s so funny to him.

So how I am coping with abandoning myself after I know how much damage that can do to my future self? I’ll be honest, because it doesn’t feel like me anymore. And I feel like I’ve been holding on to twitter solely because it’s where my largest following on the internet is. I had 5556 followers on twitter when I deactivated my account 30 minutes ago. That level of reach, that level of influence, it’s hard to let go of. I want to hold tightly onto it and hope to maybe make something out of it in the future. But that was all a cope. I just didn’t want to relinquish the only power I felt like I had on twitter, and that power was a silly little number. But the tradeoff I didn’t want to acknowledge is that you belong to that following, and I got that following from being in the proximity of people I am no longer in the proximity of. It feels like I’m sitting in a college course I didn’t sign up for, but I am too terrified of admitting I’m in the wrong classroom to go get up and find the right one. 

So this leaves me sitting here thinking about the very real parts of myself that have been abandoned. The parts of me that I’ve given to people that have been forgotten, erased, taken for granted, or taken as something more than that it is. How many fragments of myself am I going to just allow to be impermanent? Can I even at this point forward be myself when so many parts of my self have been erased? Do I even try in the future to express myself, give parts of who I am to these cooperate entities vying for my attention, my AdSense, my data, in exchange for the feeling of permanence?   

It feels futile, to fragment who you are into these very real pieces, and leave them behind, hoping someone picks it up, tosses a like, makes a comment. It feels silly, it feels hopeless. Jonathan Larson spent decades of his life fighting a clock he himself antagonized because he felt like if he didn’t, it would consume him. I am almost 29 years old and I don’t even have a rough draft of a meticulously crafted grandiose unique perspective that leaves behind an idea of why I deserve to be remembered. 

Maybe it’s about time that I stop abandoning fragments. The issue is, it’s all I know. And a part of me I don’t want to give any credence to, secretly loves to ability to kill a version of me once every few years, and burn the evidence.

It’s what’s for dinner

thique

wise words

curious. anyway,

Resident Evil 4 VR is the best VR game I’ve played yet, and I’ve only played the opening area. I played through a lot of the Resident Evil games on my stream, but the one that has bested me so far is Resident Evil 4, I got stuck and just haven’t beaten it yet. It has been my least favorite Resident Evil game so far after playing 7, 2, 3, 8, and 1, in that order. But I haven’t thought about returning to it until I saw a Jacob Geller video on nebula (I know, I caved, the video essayists got me).

The video went into his experience of it giving him a Ratatouille-esque experience of playing the game for the first time, and while that’s cute, I don’t have much nostalgia for the game. What sold me was his explanation of what parts of the game changed for VR, like the first person immersive gameplay style.

Up until now I’ve thought Superhot was the best VR game. It is great for getting you to see the capabilities of what VR can do while also allowing you to very literally take the game at your own speed. And you can very much play Superhot frame by frame by frame making sure you dodge all the bullets. But what makes Superhot really fun is when you’re able to play the little puzzle like bullet time scenarios at full speed because you just figured out the perfect fluid movement to win it.

And that’s been my problem with a lot of VR games so far, they are designed to acclimate you to VR and get you used to the sensation of it, and avoid motion sickness. And while it’s fun at first, the novelty wares off quick. But Resident Evil 4 VR resists this urge to baby the player, and doesn’t use precious game time teaching them how to use a VR headset. If you want to have the most fun you’ve ever had playing VR, turn on immersive combat, set your movement to fluid, and get ready to live out every zombie killing fantasy you’ve ever had.

Your handgun is on your dominant hand’s hip, you knife is on your chest, your healing item is on your shoulder opposite your dominant hand, and your ammunition is on your thigh opposite your dominant hand. You reach for your hip and grip and you are aiming down the sights as quickly as your arm is able to move. You have the red dot sight but honestly it’s more fun to actually look down the iron sights of your gun, and it is practically perfect in accuracy every time. This means stabilizing your handgun hand is a necessity if you want accurate aim, shooting from your hip is difficult and sloppy. This feels so natural and badass that it made me giddy getting to play. But here’s the hard part, you have to physically reload your weapon when your clip runs out, reach down to your thigh, pull up a new clip, and cock your gun to be able to start shooting again.

It is beyond fun while also being deeply anxiety inducing. The kind of anxiety that makes you really flinch when a villager throws an ax at you. Or the kind that has you fumbling to get your knife out because you ran out of bullets with one more headshot needed to get the enemy right in front of you.

I had to stop playing after the first area cause I did get a little motion sick, but I am so excited to throw the headset back on and get back into the game, which is the first time a VR game has really made me feel that. So if you have a quest headset and it’s been gathering dust for a while cause nothing is really fun it just all feels like novelty, Resident Evil 4 might just reignite the spark you got when you first got it.

Selfie chain?

Selfie chain.

It feels like since Tumblr has come back to life a lot of people have started new blogs, changed URLs and/or lost touch with mutuals. I know I have. We should do a selfie chain so that people can find new(old) people to follow! Reblog with a selfie of you feeling cute

Remember when I used to post videos of me dancing in my basement a decade ago?

Let’s bring that energy back.