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maplecourtesy · 4 years

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TAZ:G NOTES, EPISODE 27

oh we’re starting with a full recap of the history huh;;

HHHHHHH ARGO, all i can think about is argo…. ever since last week my brain has been like many thoughts head argo keene

argo…… already…… oh god the music. argo gripping fitzroy’s shoulder;;;;; i love how that’s the thundermen’s love language.

[most of the content under the cut, because spoilers!!]

OH L O R D I DID NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THIS…oh jesus christ JESUS FUCK GOD WHAT THE HELL IM IN SO MUCH PAIN. THE ONE THING I DID NOT WANT. THE O N E THING. WAS HEARING ABOUT ARGO KILLING FITZ AND THE FIRBOLG. I KNOW THIS ISN’T REAL BUT IT VERY WELL COULD BE IF THINGS GO WRONG OH THIS IS AWFUL. IM IN A FITZROY KINSHIFT AND I FELT PAIN BETWEEN RIBS WHEN TRAVIS SAID THAT…. IM ALREADY EMOTIONAL SOMEONE HOLD ME. “you consider what you have done, and you smile.” NOTHING HAS HURT ME AS MUCH AS ARGONAUT KEENE.

i’m like . shaking. that singular dream sequence has convinced me that argo is genuinely one of my Highest comfort characters. i feel nothing but pain.

unfair that this cute music is playing while argo is waking up from the. WORST possible nightmare.

“does fitzroy have his own bedroom?” “he does” “*evil bastard chuckle noises from griffin*” GOD I LOVE HIM

notes in the adventure zone are never good. why are they never good i almost don’t wanna hear this even if its just a good lil fitzroy note. BE BACK SOON. if travis had made it say just “blah blah blah. back soon.” i think i genuinely would’ve fucking lost it. sorry for having taz balance brainrot i dont do it on purpose <3

NOOOO GOD I HATE THIS SO MUCH. GET OUT OF ARGO’S HEAD ARGO DON’T LISTEN TO HIM BUDDY THEY LOVE YOU SO MUCH THEY THINK YOURE THE ABSOLUTE BEST OH MAN IM SAD. i knew gray’d be capitalizing on argo’s fears and doubts n insecurities but i didn’t realize it’d hit this hard…. man argo cmere lemme give u a good good hug.

NOT @ THEM BEING MEAN TO CLINT TOO SDBFJDKSJ;;;;; STOP BULLYING CLINT AND ARGO!!!!!! >:T JAHSBJSDF TRAVIS MAKING THEM APOLOGIZE;;;

right before justin said his little podcast law thing i was literally Just about to click the 1.5x button and i felt very called out

FAST FIRBOLG FAST FIRBOLG. ITS VERY FUNNY THAT HIS UHHHHHH’S STILL REMAIN THE SAME THOUGH. hey does travis know what Talking Faster means.

“i have been giving this much thought” “HELL YES"

"the worry-"

"aw no"

WHEJDJDBSJSHBS

OH THE MUSIC!!!!! FESTO TIME THIS IS FESTO TIME!!!!! I MISSED FESTO SO MUCHHHHH GOD FESTOS THEME MUSIC SLAPS SO HARD

as always fitzroy is already being The Best. hes so good. man festo better be impressed by this.

“DID YOU SEE?????” EVERY DAY I LOVE FITZROY MORE..

you heard the man travis!!! we need a festo and fitzroy rave scene and we need it NOW

OH THANK GOD ITS FESTOS PROPER VOICE AGAIN I WASNT FEELING THE VIBES

I MISSED SNIPPERS SO MUCH TOOOOO I LOVE SNIPPERS TO THE MOON AND BACK…. snippers the phantasmal crab well spring of all magic ever

I LIKE GORDY SO MUCH!!!!! GORDY GOES TO RAVES!!! :DDD

hey festo do u wanna spill the hot drippin wet goss

YOU DO HAVE A HABIT OF PISSING PEOPLE OFF WJDNSNFJSKDFJKN THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE….

FESTO MAKE JOKE SDHJFBHSHDJFJHB

rip fitzroy <3

CLINT THE POWERFUL WIZARD…. GOD CLINTS CANONICAL IN EVERY UNIVERSE…. THE. SDHFJJBSDFHJSDHJFB THE CLINTORIS. LET ME OUT OF HERE I WANNA GO. I HATE IT SO MUCH. I HATE IT I HATE IT.

hehe pretty music!! i will never shut up about how beautiful griffin’s composition is especially in these recent episodes;;

I REALLY ONLY LISTEN TO THE AD READS FOR BABY DOT NOW I LOVE HER SO MUCH;;;;;; <333 THAT’S A GOOD HALLOWEEN GROWL;;;;; HEY BABY DOT;;;;;;;; oh i love dot so much im ;3;

glad we had that chat about using the potty!!! thanks guys very cool!!

now why would fitzroy bring that up.

WHERE IS ALL THE ART OF THUNDERMAN LLC IN BOOTY SHORTS CLIMBING GEAR!!!! I NEED THAT!!! GET ON IT ARTISTS!!!! /LH

WHJBDHHJSDHJFHBJ NOOO GOD;;; i saw a post that said it sounds like argo seems like hes feeling some rejection sensitivity dysphoria and Yeah;;; little sidetrack but i really do feel like all the thundermen are neurodivergent in some way. i project my adhd very heavily onto fitzroy and i think that argo and the firbolg could both be somewhere on the spectrum!! argo could also be ocd and thats a very comforting headcanon too;;;

GOD SARCASM…..

oh its hieronymous;;; sad music time i don’t like this;; i care so much about hiero i hope he’s doin alright;; “i’m just tired.” yeah me too hiero…

GOD EVERYTIME FIRBOLG MAKES A JOKE I LOSE MY MIND…. canon that firbolg does a little celebratory dance after each banger joke

“we can’t take that risk” “well MAYBE THEY SHOULDVE BEEN STRONG ENOUGH”

yall think fitzroy could get that influencer cape on and charm his way into the heroic oversight guild. but yeah hiero and althea!!!!

OH NO ARGO. O H. N O. AR G O.. OH JESUS ARGO OH GOD FUCK ARGO……OH NOOOO OH NO OH GOD FUCK ARGO DONT DO SHIT I SWEAR TO FUCKING G O D. ARGO PLEASE IM SO SCARED I CANT HAVE FITZROY GET STABBED… argo sounds so … defeated oh im so sad;;;; i have so many argo feelings…

maplekeeners how are we feelin…

HOW DOES ARGO KEEP FUCKIN ROLLING CRIT FAILS… oh no;;; fitzroy fuck him up. do it. fuck him up. FUCK Y E S. HOLY SHIT FUCK HIM UP FITZROY.

if gray don’t get the FUCK out of my boy argo

thank god argo knows now because idk if i could’ve dealt with him feelin that shitty self deprecation and thinkin it was still him even after that;;

thunderman llc love each other so much god i'm so sad...

oh i cant wait to see the art people come up with for the godscar chasm scene this sounds beautiful...

OPALESCENT SKIN??? CHAOS????? not? chaos??

"i have been called many names, some of them unkind. i think the one i most identify with is order."

HOLY SHIT I JUST GOT C H I L L S WHAT THE FUCK THAT WAS SO INCREDIBLY COOL OH IM IN AWE. THAT WAS SUCH A COOL ENDING OH MG GOD.

this commentary got Long but for good reason god this was such a good episode i believe in taz g episode 27 supremacy.... holy moly folks.

#taz #taz graduation spoilers #taz grad #taz g #taz graduation #taz grad spoilers #the adventure zone #the adventure zone graduation #taz episode 27 #sir fitzroy maplecourt #fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #argo keene #the firbolg #master firbolg #taz notes by krys #krys talks

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dynamic-instability · 4 years

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In one of my classes we have to write weekly personal narratives about an experience with illness. This week, mine turned into this. It’s probably too personal, and too... immediate?? to turn in to a professor without cutting out a lot of stuff, but not too personal to post online I guess lol

_____________________________

It’s November again.

In 2009 the lights were too bright. Mid-October one morning I woke up to my dad turning on my lights and it was like having to look into the sun while posing for a photo—my eyes wouldn’t stay open, if I forced them to, they couldn’t stay pointed in one direction, they spasmed and hurt. When the light was dimmed, I still saw double. That morning, I showered in the dark, and I remember being scared. They gave me eyedrops that paralyzed my accommodative muscles. In November my pupils were giant discs and I wore reading glasses over sunglasses to look at the computer, and when it was all said and done, the lights were still too bright, and I still saw double.

In 2011 I was tired. There’s fatigue and then there’s fatigue, I learned that Fall. In May of that year I had pulled two all-nighters in a week, and that was the only other time I’d felt this kind of tired, a sensation in about the 30th hour of the second time where it’s like my brain itched. I once saw someone else online describe it as “nausea, but in your head and eyes instead of in your throat and stomach” and that’s the closest anyone else has come to describing it. By November this was happening more and more often. I remember laying down in the corner of the room during a break of Citywide choir and thinking what the hell is wrong with me? I got a cold the next week, and I thought that maybe that was all it was. It wasn’t.

In 2013 I went to the ER for the fifth time in three months of college, and when I wanted to leave before waiting another couple of hours to eventually see a doctor who would tell me once again that they couldn’t do anything to help me, the woman from student life who was there to drive me back to campus made me call my parents on speaker phone and get their permission to leave before she would turn on the car. I had missed more chemistry labs than I could afford to miss without failing, passed out in a voice lesson, was asked by the director to drop out of choir because watching me was distraction when I looked like I was in pain, and if I passed out it would have ruined the concert for everyone. I remember leaving calculus in the mornings mid-class to go to the bathroom and lay on the floor and cry. I remember not being able to lift my hand off the mattress of my dorm room bed. I withdrew from half of my classes on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, and took the Spring semester off.

In 2014 I had made a promise to myself that I would come back to college full time for that Fall semester just to see if I could do it, and then if I couldn’t I would drop out for good. There was one week where I thought that might be happening. Mid-November. The girls in my dorm had made a fort in the lounge out of sheets and blankets and colorful scarves and I remember laying on the couch through the green-filtered light and feeling the world spin and thinking oh god I still can’t do this. The door opened with a rush of cold air and my friends came in with food for me, since I’d been too sick to go to dinner. They sat with me and helped me with chemistry, offered to type up a paper if I dictated it, told jokes and made me laugh. I took an incomplete in one class, but I passed everything else, just barely scraped through, and came back in January.

In 2015 I just wanted to sleep. I passed out in an elevator and heard familiar voices, concerned voices, as I came to, and I stayed there laying motionless for another minute longer, because as long as I wasn’t awake I didn’t have to keep pushing. I wrote whole pages of completely unreadable ochem notes because my hand wasn’t working any better than my brain, and woke up on the floor and was wheeled out on a stretcher crying. It was dark all the time. My cane slipped on wet leaves and I felt my wrist crunch and there it was, one too many missed organic chemistry labs. I couldn’t stand for an entire choir rehearsal because breathing to sing made me lightheaded. I slept for 16 hours a day. The week before Thanksgiving, I called my mother to tell her I had decided to take another hardship withdrawal, and she sighed. I had applied to transfer schools during my much more optimistic Spring semester and Summer, and the week I left was also the week I found out I’d been accepted.

And so okay now it’s 2019, and it’s October and now November again, semester plan again, dark again. My reading is piling up again, feeling overwhelmed again, laying on my kitchen floor again. But here’s the thing—my health is… fine? Midterm week I didn’t sleep, and yes I passed out twice, but no ER. For the past 18 months, I can count on one hand the number of mornings I’ve been unable to get out of bed because of fatigue. My heart still pounds too hard but my head doesn’t swim every time I sit up. I walk the streets of New York City like mobility has never been a problem. I always take the stairs. My brain doesn’t itch until it’s been 30 hours no sleep.

I couldn’t go to class last week. I lay on the floor of my kitchen and stared up at the ceiling and tried to get up, tried to type out an email to my professors, and I couldn’t do it. I was not too tired. I was not too weak. I was not in pain. I could not move. I try to write and try to write and try to write and the words don’t come. I eat instant oatmeal at 9 PM because I haven’t been to the store in a month. I have lost nearly 15 pounds since moving to New York. I clean the stove for two and a half hours but can’t bring myself to take the dead spider off the side of the bathtub. I check the door lock one-two-three times, pace the floor, sit back down. I do not read Austerlitz. I write a Canvas post for Self and Other but it’s nonsense. I do not write a Canvas post for Accounts of Self. I do not write a Canvas post for Applied Writing. I write a Canvas post for Illness and Disability and somehow forget to post it, the one thing I’ve actually done, because I’m too busy feeling sick at everything I haven’t. I shadow a doctor for the clinical witnessing assignment and everything is fine but when I try to write it up I have a panic attack that leaves me sobbing on my couch and the assignment nine days late and counting. It takes me eight hours to write two pages. I watch 18 hours of YouTube video essays discussing drama about creators I don’t even watch and play a stupid game on my phone for an entire weekend until I’ve spent $25+ in a labyrinth of microtransations and every time I close my eyes I see the moving dots.

In November of 2015 I had three overdue essays for Global Literature, and two more due in the next two weeks. More than half were on books I had not read. My pre-lab wasn’t done for organic chemistry, and I wondered for a moment, if I pretended to pass out, if that would be easier. I stayed up until 4 AM laying on my floor and listening to Hamilton. I was sick, that much is true, but when I felt okay I still sat at my computer and could not bring myself to write.

In 2011 I had so many unfinished assignments for my college-level English class that I resigned myself to failing and I went to school the morning of the final class, but I hid in the stairwell by the choir room until I heard the bell, and I never went back to that class.

2009 was the year my dad stopped being able to yell at me for not doing my homework, because no one, including me, could tell whether it was actually my eyes stopping me.

In 2008 I wrote 6 essays in the 5 days of Thanksgiving break because I had not done any work for Intro to Lit all semester. I pulled it off, somehow, even aced the class because of an unusually lenient late work policy, but what I most remember is the sick feeling of dread as I lay on the floor in the living room staring up at the Christmas tree and feeling invisible sand slip through an invisible hourglass and a vice tightening in my chest.

In 2006 I stayed up almost all night writing a paper and crying my eyes out because I couldn’t find the words to explain to anyone why it had been so impossible for me to get the work done, that I wasn’t being lazy or distracted, I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t necessarily reading YA novels or watching TV or IMing my friends instead of working, I could sit and stare at a blank word document for 6 hours straight and still it would not get done. Everyone talked about potential, talked about how smart I was, but a gradebook that is half 100’s and half 0’s still averages out to an F. No one, including me, could explain the discrepancy. The logic of that simple math was not lost on me, the knowledge that turning in half-finished or not very good work was mathematically better than not doing it, but that didn’t mean I could do it. Words failed me when I tried to explain the illogic of my particular suffering.

I didn’t hear the term executive dysfunction until I was in my 20s. In retrospect I was tentatively told at 16 that I had “probably some ADHD and OCD”, but that psychiatrist was someone I’d been sent to by a neurologist because he thought she could fix my eyes, and when she said she couldn’t, I stopped making appointments. After I got sick, physically sick, the lines blurred between what was causing what, to the point where even I have no idea. Two of the Novembers missing here are ones I spent at CC, on the block plan where I only took one class at a time. My physical health arguably improved a little after transferring in January of 2016, but mostly it didn’t, not until Spring of 2018 at least. And you can see that evidence in dropped blocks, concussions from passing out onto hard surfaces, a couple of incompletes taken when viral illnesses (or concussions) compounded my other problems. What the block plan changed was the way things pile up, lessened the struggle of constant task switching between classes. (Admittedly, I also had fewer papers when taking mostly science classes. Writing takes much more energy, and it’s much harder to convince myself it doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth submitting.) At CC nothing ever really reached the level of catastrophe. Some of that is purely the ability to drop a single block, meaning when it was my physical health that was the problem, I didn’t lose a whole semester, just one class, then reset. But I should have realized sooner that the block plan wouldn’t account for the level of improvement if my physical health had really been the only barrier.

So we’re back to now. Grad school. November again. Dark again. Semester plan again. Too much writing again. Crushing dread again. Dysfunction again. Panic attack in the middle of the night increasingly elaborate organizing rituals scream of the subway tracks in my mind can’t stop can’t start can’t breathe can’t move burnout again. This time without the explanation of chronic fatigue to fall back on.

I have my tricks, have actually learned somewhat to cope in the past 18 years. Schedules help, break tasks into pieces that are as small as possible. Mindfulness meditation. Forgive yourself when it’s not perfect. Get started with something easy, set a timer for 20 minutes and only work for those 20 minutes and then let yourself stop if you want to (and surprisingly often, you won’t want to, sometimes that momentum is all it takes). If you work better in the night, work in the night, who cares what society says your sleep schedule should be. When switching tasks, physically get up and move to a different location. Allow yourself to procrastinate on work with other work if that’s what you have to do. Delete the stupid games from your phone. One or two missed assignments are not actually the end of the world, if you let yourself view it as piling up, you won’t be able to get anything done, so if you absolutely have to, just move through and move on.

It’s not a catastrophe, this November. It’s a fight, but it’s not a catastrophe. I read Austerlitz and forgive myself for skimming it. I write a Canvas post and forgive myself when it’s only 500 words and doesn’t make complete sense. I read Toni Morrison and Édouard Louis and classmates’ discussion posts about Deaf culture and identity and remember why this matters in the first place, that it’s not just a series of assignments to overwhelm me, it’s a series of interesting complicated exhausting important thoughts and questions. I get it done. Some of it. Most of it. I let myself sleep. I breathe. I remember to be grateful because I can get out of bed in the mornings and take the stairs. I am okay.

#chronic illness #executive dysfunction #chronic fatigue #College and chronic illness #personal lol

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