A thing that would qualify as unusually good would be getting a response from MyFonts that they're going to start selling the thing I finished without giving me any trouble. But that won't be until tomorrow at the earliest.
Finished a thing, shifted some junk, felt like I was doing pretty well, for me. Then Windows decided to toy with my trust for a few hours (Start menu went away. Clean scan, hard shutdown, password field didn't appear, restart, perpetual uncaptioned wait-for-spinner screen, hard shutdown, now back to normal). I took that time to read the first chapter of The Sculptor. Now I think I'll just sit here rocking until something unusually good happens.
Is there an Instance of this thing whose website resembles the bluebird's, i.e. one big page with the home timeline spread across most of it, where the scroll wheel works no matter where my cursor is, and I don't have to peer through this _arrowslit?_
A dream expressly restored my draconity today. Want to mark it, may as well be here.
Crowded social setting, someone was gathering "dragon experts". [N] convinced [P] to keep me in a sexy clinch (tho I knew she couldn't want to) to keep me from recusing myself and prove there's something still alive in me.
Somehow still ended up stranded alone at a city intersection. Remembered to express my arms as wings. Flew to a lush low-resolution valley to await the other dragons.
Finasteride: Letting you know now, getting any closer to what you want will require killing the part of yourself that would be excited by it.
Me: I guess that's worthless. But I'll settle for having hair I'm not embarrassed by; you'll still do that, right?
Finasteride: Haha, no.
And upon reexamining the intended "zero" and "one", I wonder: yes, they're arbitrarily assigned, but are they even true in any sense? Which is to say, is there any level on which a processor actually uses power processing ones that is saved processing zeroes, and was there ever?
Stray insomniac memory of a past employer who looked at the power switch on my monitor, a rocker switch with separate "0" and "1" markings, and idly remarked that you'd think that the open eye should mean On and the closed eye should mean Off.
Soon afterward another interpretation occurred to me, of the circle and line as electrical circuit diagrams, and while the words "closed" and "open" have changed places, the circle still indicates On even more definitively.
Me: Absurd Notions couldn't even keep up with the time it was in; I don't know why I ever think of reviving it. Maybe things from that time should be left in the past.
YouTube: Foamy from Newgrounds is back, and he's angry about "trigger warnings" and "safe spaces!"
"Radioactive" has been echoing in my mind. The lyrics "welcome to the new age" have become "Welcome to my Web Page," which, while comically vaporwave and all, also to me reflects how the ruins of my past are littered around the internet. Remnants of those decades of literally imagining dragons: not a waste of time, except I didn't do it fast enough. "Under Construction... Under Construction..."
Even if the gender weren't an issue, I would still be all out of any love for my legal given name. I've learned of the studies that identify it as the common name most likely to elicit a negative prejudgment. There are even parts of the world where it has become a shorthand slang for an unpleasant type of person. I'm not going to go laying too much blame on it for how my life has gone, but all the same I've grown to die a little inside when I have to use it.
Today was another adventure in visiting an eatery that wants to record a name to call out, saying "K", and seeing how well it goes. It's an ambiguous, indistinct syllable and sometimes that's a problem. This was one of those times, and I had to fall back on the wallet name to get on with things.
As far as I'm concerned my name is Cerulean but you can't expect that much of people.
I have the resources to live in stasis here for as long as I have to. But both my decades-delayed coming out as trans (particularly to my parents) and the possibility of moving to where I have any friends at all would be contingent on proving I could maintain an active role in capitalism.
This year, I completed the thing, an elaborate 14-font typeface family, struggled with the distributors to put it up for sale, and made an ultimately inconsequential sum.
The story so far: My webcomics succumbed to their inherent manifold obsolescence. In 2013 I had a number of small opportunities and then circumstances made me drop the ball on most of them. Shortly after that I became estranged from the few old friends who still live within an hour of here.
I put all of my attention into finishing one thing that might be worth something.
Well, let's see about this. A social site that isn't necessarily about shouting to the entire world and listening to the entire world shouting. One where you can use the word that is five letters longer than its synonym whenever you need to. One where I can speak uncryptically about personal issues and not have to think about whether it might be discovered at any moment by my parents. Let's see.