Adding to the List of Bad Days

Memorial Day is a serious holiday and a good one to have.

Unfortunately, in my dreams my father returned and strangled me while somebody was bombing the place where I used to live at with my parents (the last incarnation of it). He was very ineffective, but then again, being pinned down and strangled while the world is going to hell was not a good feeling in any way, shape, or form.

My father always had a thing for inducing terror.

Today I technically should remember him, because he was a good soldier and all that. Won awards. Fought on the side of the Americans during the Vietnam War.

Beating and terrorizing his wife and daughter, on the other hand, is barely something to be considered, if at all, today.

Except, you know, for my PTSD.

I swear to all the gods in the heavens and all the demons in the hells and all the spirits walking the earth, PTSD should be a swear word. I personally prefix half of my thoughts during this time with “fuck it fuck it FUCK IT argh” anyways.

So, right. Tea. Laundry. Too late to pray that I don’t get two corners of the PTSD tarp blown off today.

Shootin’ at the walls of heartache, bang bang

Wish I could be at Wiscon. But conventions are out of reach for a while.

Current Status at the Echo Bazaar

More status dumping! Already! I’m super-addicted to this game.

You’re Not Helping: Reviewing Media Covering Trauma

Dear reviewer for whom I now have a bad impression:

Yes, it’s very possible to have a lot of pain and still be responsible, functional people most of the time. Somehow I manage, and so do others. Most of the time. There is nothing super-human about that, unless you consider the human condition to be much especial.

Sometimes, yes, the pain becomes rather much and can overwhelm us. But most of us are not asylum candidates every single moment of our lives post-trauma, or even most of our lives post-trauma—even during some of our worst nadirs.

Sometimes, yes, one incident can cause enough trauma for a lifetime. I’m pretty sure people who had to survive getting buried in rubble after disasters, natural or man-made, can attest to this.

As for the ones of us who are functional—we ain’t lying about the pain we do go through, nor the severity of that pain, nor the cost it does take to maintain a relatively normal life; costs that are either bourn by us or by society or, very often, by both, through events both direct and indirect.

For a little while I wrote a series of articles on Tor.com about PTSD in fiction. It’s useful for writers—but it would certainly be useful for reader and reviewers of works that incorporate trauma.

Part 1
How PTSD is experienced in real life, and an overview of what fiction often gets wrong.

Part 2
An in-depth look at the PTSD portrayals in Babylon 5 (“And the Sky Full of Stars”) and Lord of the Rings.

Part 3
Another in-depth look at PTSD portrayals, this time in World War Z and The West Wing (“Nöel”).

Part 4
A very in-depth look into PTSD and Lord Peter Wimsey.

And so, my dear reviewer, You’re Not Helping.

No love,
AJ

Going Insane for First City Coins and Profit

As you may know, I am seeking First City Coins to fulfill the Heart’s Desire Ambition. I like figuring out this part of the venture myself without spoilers, but then again, I managed to get 50 coins from being connected to the Masters of the Bazaar, and only have to get 27 more by myself. People needing to get all 77 may have a different point of view.

Regardless, SPOILERS FOLLOW.

Echo Bazaar: I’ll Show You Mine

My current status in Echo Bazaar. Spoilers, obviously, but I’ll try to black them out—though I don’t know if it’ll work in an RSS reader or LiveJournal subscription. Those tend to like stripping out style tags.

What is Echo Bazaar? It’s a text-based browser game set in a Victorian London that’s been stolen by demons into the Underworld. Literally the Underworld. It’s bizarre and wonderful and there are shrooms.

Anyways, status and spoilery discussion of the related items under the cut.

On Packages

So if you’ve read my previous entry you know that I have a difficult time dealing with the mail.

That made me think a bit more, for instance, why do I not mind packages? Gods know that UPS and FedEx stop by my house every couple of days on most months, because I buy a lot of basic things online, alongside the tea.

Probably the difference is that the packages I’m happy with are deliveries that I expect to a rather precise degree: I get them because I’ve ordered them or someone tells me they’re sending me something. I often have a tracking number. I know when they’re going to come.

The mail, on the other hand, is just so full of random crap on mysterious schedules.

My mail and my packages also get delivered to different spots, so that helps.

Needless to say, “surprise” packages are not terribly welcome. I have never gotten one, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for anyone to send one (and it’s why I’ve never publicized my Amazon wish list). I’m happiest with a gift certificate so that I can order things myself, and know when they come, and suchlike.

I’m going to go quiver some more in bed now. The trembling is kinda bad (it started maybe half an hour ago, hasn’t stopped yet).

Oh, the PTSD funhouse.

Echoes

ETA: This is probably more triggery than most of these types of entries I write. I will put this under a cut. I’m a little scared of this entry, myself.

Crazy On / Crazy Off

When I woke up yesterday morning and today morning, I knew exactly where and when I was, in every sense. I wasn’t adrift several years back in any dimension of myself. Everything mentally lined up. I felt rooted.

It’s a wonderful feeling and I miss it. I hope it stays forever, but it never does, even in good years (which I’m sure this isn’t).

Oh well.

Authors and Wank; or, Perfect Isn’t People, Part II

I already posted this as a comment on another thread elsewhere, but I’ll repost it here. With, er, grammar corrected. Sigh.

Everyone is human. Authors no less. If they were wanky all the time, that’d be a different thing, but this is just one issue on which they wanked, and truth to tell, most of us have our own issues on which we would wank; we just haven’t been featured on fandom_wank yet.

(For an example, look at bookshop; Aja has been featured on fandom_wank numerous times, but she definitely isn’t a wanker here.)

So yeah; on this issue, GRRM ((And others, it has to be said.)) hasn’t been thoughtful. Everywhere else, though, he’s a nice guy. That doesn’t excuse his mouthing off on something he’s not done research on, or his particularly weak response to being called on it, or his condescension.

I’m not calling for people to be absolutely forgiving; sometimes an author will wank on something we care very deeply about, and people have every right to stop wanting to read said author.

At the same time, it’s important to remember: authors are human. They are no better and no worse than the rest of humanity, even though they’re published. This wank (and previous ones) are especially illustrative of that.

One more thing I’d like to add:

Over the years, I’ve learned that people are people everywhere you go. People are good or bad or human on their own merits, not because they’ve gotten published, not because they went to college—and not because they haven’t gotten published or haven’t gone to college, either. This bites people on both sides of the coin; on the one hand, it becomes easy to put someone on a pedestal and be horribly disappointed later, and on the other hand, it is this very attitude of “I am better than the rabble” that enables so much author wank.

In the end, it’s just best to assume in general that they are no better than you.