Scaramouche, Scaramouche

SO HEY IM 38!!!!!

Well, as of july 31 I am!

When I was a kid, the maximum lifespan expectation for CF patients was 24. (This should explain a bit about why I'm Weird As Hell, and why some people found me terrifying to the point of assuming I'm downright evil lmaooooo.)

Now, in Canada, the median(??? I think, math is not my forté) survival age is almost 50.

I plan to exceed that, as I have every other limitation I'm supposed to have.

We're closer and closer to a cure, now; treatments get better and better.

I participate in studies, so what they learn from ME can make the lives of pediatric CF patients better. It's rough to be a kid with a chronic illness; if IO can make it less rough for them, then good.

So I'm rockin' on, havin' a beer, paintin' weird stuff, and enjoyin' the journey. :D

mom & dad's kitty.

and her toe beans!

SLIGHTLY BELATEDLY!

on 31 Jul 81 i entered this plane of being. at that time, life expectancy for people with CF was about 24 years old.

on 31 Jul 18 i turned 37.


BOOYAH. DETERMINATION, YO. XD

That Thing Where you dream you’re someone left-handed, and you’re a rightie IRL, and you wake up with your left arm all stiff and weird in ways that correspond to the moves you were busting in your dream.



WHAT THE H, BODY.

Thirty-six and still goin' strong; 103% FEV1 (that's good - means I'm exhaling as much as I inhale, nothing is getting stuck, and I'm equal-to-and-slightly-better-than average people lungwise) and weight stable.

I FEEL FUCKIN' SMUG.

And grateful.

And accomplished.

And content.

And full of determination, but that goes without saying. :D

Thanks for bein' with me on the ride. ♥

anybody who thinks a comparison of Viera to rabbits is 'wussifying' the former HAS NO DANG IDEA HOW HARDCORE ACTUAL RABBITS ARE :D

like

seriously, do ye a little homework.

(that doesn't mean 'read Watership Down', it's a good story but it has nothing to do with how real rabbits are socially.)

rabbits are hardcore, yo.

I don't think I'm ever going to understand the weirdofailpagan idea that people can be like...luck-vampires, and steal all the attention and accolades that rightfully belong to someone else.

Uh, no, that's--either someone is taking credit for your work/stealing your ideas, or they're not.

If I have seven notes on some tumblr post, and someone else has three, I didn't "steal" four notes. (In fact four o those notes are probably me replying to said post with the worst puns ever.) I just have seven. I didn't mystically siphon off attention/notes/love/whatever.

It's really quite remarkable how many people have NO EARTHLY CLUE how This Kind Of Shit works. "SHE HAS MORE NOTES THAN MEEEEE" yeah okay that's not energy vampirism at work; that's social media shenanigans. Energy vampirism is a different thing from that.

Hurgh. Sometimes there's nothing otherworldly about a given situation, beyond the general baseline. Sometimes shit's just how it is because of chance.

This rant brought to you by: general wining on twitter etc. from people I don't even know.

[A BUNCH OF WEIRD.

BLOODBORNE SPOILERS AND CRACK-STLEVANIA AND SHIZ. CLICK THROUGH AT OWN RISK.]

( water, and also rock )

LORE: THE DREAM OF THE SCION OF CHAOS

[or: Yukie just stuck Bloodborne in Castlevania in Kupopolis, and made a Goth Sandwich. WTF Yukie.]

"The lie of dichotomy's done more to wound the mortal races than most other tainted doctrines. Emotion and reason, body and mind, subconscious and conscious--all are one, really, but misunderstandings of old and cultivated falsehoods sowed in the name of conquering have made this truth obscure at best and a heresy at worst. Only recently have we put aside these misconceptions and sought what's true...well, most of us. Some would rather cling to old lies--and inevitably be crushed to death when the weight of truth comes crashing down."

**

This dreaming-realm is, in a word, weird. No surprise there, given the dreamer. It manifests as a sprawling Gothic city, all spires and wrought-iron and cobblestone and beauty in decay. Something terrible has happened here; it's up to the visiting dreamer to sound the depths of the mystery and hopefully emerge unscathed.

We don't know where he got the name "Yharnam" from. Or "Yahar'gul" or "Ihyll Phthumeru" or anything else. Probably the language of Void and Chaos. Maybe it means something? The syllables put some linguists in mind of extremely old fae and youma Hierachoral--the sung language of magic.

Many of the denizens of this dream are humans, all tainted by the calamity that's befallen the city. They don't like outsiders; they want your blood. This is the dreamer's experience of how humans simply are. Don't be too offended by it, no one said he was a reliable narrator.

Certain prominent denizens are echoes of the Dreamer's past. Not all, of course, but some. Eileen, Djura, Arianna, and Maria (among others) have a certain gravity to them that other dream-peoples lack. Conversely, Gehrman feels curiously hollow. He may be a facet of the Dreamer.

In the deepest fathoms of the Dream, the natural denizens of the realm have free reign and influence The Dreamer has no fear of them, but visitors who fancy themselves innately "rational" may be stunned or traumatised by facing such things. They're inclined to think too hard about things, and try to apply human reason to beings that have no use for such.

Those with a deeper sense of whimsy can make contact with these denizens, and even commune with them, gaining powerful allies. This has the effect of making the Dream even weirder, and the Dreamer more inclined to consciously pit himself against the visitor. Think of it like a game of chess, but in four dimensions and upside-down.

The Son of Dragons is weird.

If yo should make your way to the end of the Dream and see the story to its end, he will grant you his boon as the Scion of Chaos.

Few have managed this.

After the memorial service with funny sandwiches, after going through SO MUCH KLEENEX, after a basquillion relatives everywhere, it's back to quiet-ish here. Sister is home for a bit; she and mom and dad and me are going up to Collingwood on a wine tour tomorrow. Her husbean was home from last Thursday to today; he's back in Calgary now.

(Hilariously, he and me went to the same pediatric hospital when he lived here in Ontariariario. XD)

I'm still kind of coping and getting used to things, and occasionally elbow-dropping the thoughts that say "you shouldn't be around either". Those are for-me-it-was-Tuesday small potatoes, but still obnoxious and ill-timed. 'Specially with my sister here, who is--like. We fought a lot as kids, we don't now. But she is everything I am not and I'm like ARGH but she probably feels the same about me in ways so I guess that's just how sibling.

I'm looking forward to the wine tour.

Also the cat's yelling in my ear. XD