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Weekend of Intoxicated Reflection
5 years ago
General
It's been a productively unproductive long weekend commemorating National Treason Day. Many video games. Hardspace Shipbreaker shows promise.
Had a nice, quiet afternoon reset with some fungal friends. Spent the next morning reconnecting with a friend I haven't been able to find in 20 years, but this time the google-fu was with me.
Reflection time: There seems to be a weird inverse relationship between my personal well-being and that of the world at large. All through the 1990s and 2000s, I felt like I was being gaslighted 24/7 because I had such anxiety and depression from being able to see the long-standing systemic problems that have culminated in the present situation. Back then everyone assured me that everything was fine and I was overreacting, as I tried to warn anyone who would listen about rising fascism and disastrous socioeconomic trends. My ex called me "Cassandra" unironically on a regular basis.
Now the chickens have come home to roost. The world is on fire, and there's been a conspicuous lack of anyone admitting that I told them this would happen. Funny thing, as soon as I relinquished my grip on the misconception that it was possible to make any kind of meaningful impact, my outlook and circumstances began to improve almost immediately.
I'm doing better now in pretty much every aspect than at any prior point in my life, and I refuse to feel guilty about it, despite the harsh reality surrounding this fragile bubble. The world ignored me (at best) when I was wracked and torn, and I'm not going to lose any sleep over a bunch of idiot hairless apes now that it's too late to turn back. I'll live what life I can, help my friends where I can, but never again take on the pain of a world that cared not for mine.
Had a nice, quiet afternoon reset with some fungal friends. Spent the next morning reconnecting with a friend I haven't been able to find in 20 years, but this time the google-fu was with me.
Reflection time: There seems to be a weird inverse relationship between my personal well-being and that of the world at large. All through the 1990s and 2000s, I felt like I was being gaslighted 24/7 because I had such anxiety and depression from being able to see the long-standing systemic problems that have culminated in the present situation. Back then everyone assured me that everything was fine and I was overreacting, as I tried to warn anyone who would listen about rising fascism and disastrous socioeconomic trends. My ex called me "Cassandra" unironically on a regular basis.
Now the chickens have come home to roost. The world is on fire, and there's been a conspicuous lack of anyone admitting that I told them this would happen. Funny thing, as soon as I relinquished my grip on the misconception that it was possible to make any kind of meaningful impact, my outlook and circumstances began to improve almost immediately.
I'm doing better now in pretty much every aspect than at any prior point in my life, and I refuse to feel guilty about it, despite the harsh reality surrounding this fragile bubble. The world ignored me (at best) when I was wracked and torn, and I'm not going to lose any sleep over a bunch of idiot hairless apes now that it's too late to turn back. I'll live what life I can, help my friends where I can, but never again take on the pain of a world that cared not for mine.
