Raine's Rules for the Internet

Raine's Rules for the Internet

#1. Do not have personal arguments in ANY public venue. Facebookers, take note.
Personal Messages are for personal issues. Walls, boards and forums are for public discussion. Anything you post there is as private as a screaming match in a crowded mall or plaza. Posts about STDs, medical details, petty arguments, sniping comments about your ex, rude opinions intended to be abrasive, overly pointed political comments, etc, make you look like a fool.

#2. Unless grammatically needed, CAPS LOCK = SHOUTING. JAHWOHL!
THE ONLY PERSON I COULD IMAGINE POSTING EVERYTHING IN CAPS WOULD BE DER FUHRER. SIG HEIL. SIG DON’T DO IT.

#3. Do nt type ne publik post leik ths. Unlez dis is ho u tak in real life, dis is only ok n text mssgin as a way 2 save time.
Unless that’s how you sound in reality, don’t make yourself sound ridiculous on the internet. U is a letter. Ur was a city in ancient Sumeria. Dis is a supposed city in Hell according to certain dogmas. Please use decent attempts at spelling and grammar. People will think of you as clear and intelligent. “You’re” means You Are. “Your” means is belongs to you. End of story.

#4 Do not forward chain mail/letters/messages.
Unless you’re in Fourth Grade, do not forward chain letters. You force other people to delete unwanted stuff from their inboxes or walls. It’s pretty much the equivalent of having your dog crap on the lawn of every single person you know.
(If you’re reading this and you are in Fourth Grade, what the heck are you doing online? The internet is no place for children without a parent sitting right next to them. Parents: If you wouldn’t let your kid wander alone through New York City, they’re probably not old enough to wander alone on the internet either.)

#5. TANSTAFL. There Ain’t No Such Thing As Free Lunch. It’s as true on the internet as it is in real life.
You are not the millionth visitor, you did not win a free iPad, or a free car, nobody in Nigeria wants to send you a million dollars, nor is any link you’re given with the promise of free stuff a safe thing, no Suburban Mom makes 7,000 dollars a week with this easy plan, there is no miracle berry diet, you cannot flatten your belly or whiten your teeth with one easy strange old tip, nobody will send you free stuff or job opportunities if you give them your Social Security Number and bank account, and nobody is selling solid gold watches for a dollar apiece. “Daddy, I’ve got cider in my ear.”

#6. Safe Search, Parental Settings, Antivirus software, and Spam filters. Use. Them. What you may see cannot be unseen.
If any combination of words involves a noun or a verb, there is already extremely explicit pornography of it on the internet. I guarantee this. Do not test it. Don't.
Curiosity didn’t kill the cat- It took the cat’s innocence, coated it in spandex, glitter and black vinyl, beat it to a bloody, horrified pulp, tarred it, feathered it, doused it with kerosene and set it on fire. I didn’t invent this rule, nor have I bothered to test it, because I like my mind unscarred and functioning. Do not test this rule if you value your brain. Just know it is true.
When using a Search Engine, for the love of innocence and sanity keep your Safe Search filter ON. I sound dramatic but this is no joking matter.

In Which I Have My Own Space Again, and All I Wanna Do Is Art

Phoo.
I'm supposed to be making phone calls of great import, and scheduling more family vacation arrangements, (Yes, I just got back from one, but this year we seem to have several. I like them, I just don't know what I'm going to do with so many of them- They're like pies. Awesome and fun, but more than one of them and you start wondering if you have room left in the metaphorical fridge of mental capacity.) but all I want to do is art, now that I finally have space to do it again.

I can't think very well lately. I can't seem to keep ideas in my head unless they are art ideas. I need to go shopping for food but I don't quite want to because I haven't showered yet because I was going to do that after walking the dog which I slept in too late to do this morning so I have to do that this afternoon and then run laundry while I walk the dog and see if Mom has the phone number to that one doctor I was supposed to call...

and all I want to do is put up sets and take pictures here in my apartment.

I feel like the world is moving too fast for me. If only I could stop time, so the people leaving me would not leave, the people wanting me to go places would not need to be in a hurry to go, and I could sit for a day or two and just Do Art. If only life were so simple.

In Which It's Never as Bad as I Think it Will be, and I Make Changes

Almost never is.
After I've gone and done something, I get so worked up into a nervous knot over what someone will think, and then I get to standing there in front of them and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I imagine this cloud of disapproval and disappointment. I think I'm terrified of being a disappointment. I have this hunger for pleased approval. Do I think I don't get enough of that or something?

I am making some changes. I have signed a lease to a new apartment of my very own. I have also cut my hair short again. It was rather long, and just today I had it cut to very short- Almost a pixie cut. I've had this haircut a few times before, and I like it an awful lot. It makes me look cute and capricious. Younger. More my age.

I'm all set to have myself a Quarter life crisis. The idea is starting to sink in: I'm turning 25. No longer just-after-20. Officially "Older" for an LDS single girl. In this culture, especially here in the Rockies, girls get married on average between 20 and 23. Some hang on a little longer, some earlier. When you get to around 24, 25, people start to get the Look. The look that says they nod and ask, "so, you went on a mission?"(instead of getting married, that must be why you're still single, right?) or "So, still looking for Mister Right?" (Because you must be awful picky since you haven't found a guy good enough for you yet) Or the "Oh, she's just not married Yet, but she has a Sweet Spirit!" (read: Is a good person who is mentally retarded, socially unlovely or inept, other deficiencies physical or mental)

If we're going to be literal, yes, I am one of those "Sweet Spirit" people. I do in fact have medically documented issues that add to me being terribly insecure about the whole dating thing, because I've seen how the LDS culture (NOT the religion, the Culture, which is a separate thing) treats the mentally ill or people who aren't normal. With fondness, pity, compassion, but not thoughts of romance or eternal partnership.
At what point in a relationship do you tell someone about your real problems, beyond daily frustrations and into issues that are likely to be a deal-breaker for most guys looking for sturdy stable eternal relationships?

Maybe this is too personal and will get edited later. I just needed to say it somewhere, I guess.
Hopefully, it's Not as Bad as I think it will be. I'm more or less ready to try trusting people and maybe dating again. We'll see.

(Almost) Daily Pearls of Wit, 5/24

Courtesy of my little brain:

"This internet connection. I hate it so much.
It's like a camel with a death grudge and a shot knee."

" I rerouted any accounts I have to a different system now. What a hacker may have thought was a whole-checking-account heist becomes the equivalent of a mothballed purse with a few crumpled dollars and subway ticket."

"The pinky is not strong enough for much use. All it does is seal off your grip if you grasp, say, a bar. And it makes you look elegant gesturing or drinking tea."

In Which I Set Priorities

I'd rather be accepted than corrected.
I'd rather be loved than helped.
I'd rather be listened to than instructed.
I'd rather have love and security than order and structure.
I'd rather feel safe than well-adjusted.
I'd rather be cared about than looked after.
I'd rather be happy than be productive.
I'd rather feel peaceful than successful.
I'd rather be with a few people I like than a lot of people I have to pretend to like.
I'd rather say what I feel than lie and make polite conversation.
I'd rather be honest than walk on eggshells.
I'd rather feel safe and accepted than feel accomplished and productive.

I'd rather be loved than helped.

In Which I Spill

The only thing really keeping me where I am right now is 35 lbs of white fluff and the fact that she needs me,

And if I leave now I can't take her with me unless I accept a place in a house that may not be as nice as I'd like.
Also, I can't physically move by myself. Well, I can, actually but I'd need a day to do it.

I can't live like a twelve year old in her parent's house with a bedtime and child's rules. I came here to get better and I am NOT getting better. I'm getting worse. Worse and worse. There's not enough daylight and I can't get out of bed. I don't have a sense of belonging except for ten by twelve square feet, which becomes my refuge from the rest of the world, and it's borrowed.
I need a life back.
I didn't realize how much this move would hurt my personal sense of dignity until now. I can't look myself in the mirror right now without a little bit of loathing because I feel trapped. I had hoped maybe living here would mean I'd get along better with my family having to be with them all the time but they're around me In Passing, making it hard for me to settle myself anywhere or do anything according to my own pacing, but also not really Being There either. Other than reminding me to get something else done I hardly speak to them, but I have little enough to talk about that doesn't get a response of disapproval.

Dolls. Fantasy writing. My "frivolous" therapy art and crafting.

None of it technically "productive".

Okay, fine. No, art is of no practical use to anyone. But it's been keeping me sane and for a little while every few days I get to be happy. No more pain, no more numbness, no more misery, Happy. I get to enjoy myself and feel happy. That hardly ever happens to me so I'll take it where I can get it, thanks, whether it's "Productive" or not, because my Will To Live is wayyy more important to me and Productivity or school or anything else.

If there were someone else who would take daily care of the dog I love, I'd be gone.

In Which I Try to Catch Up

So much has happened since last entry.
Biggest of all, I am an Aunt now. The Nephew is darling and pink and tiny and beautiful, and I have already begun on my plan to spoil him. I made him a pair of white moccasins with abalone shell buttons, I got his Mommy a bunch of little board books for him later, and a tiny stuffed sock monkey.

Also, it will not stop snowing here.
More later.