It's Not That I Have Quirks - I AM A Quirk.

It's not that I have quirks - I AM a quirk.

Overheard at a restaurant

Here's a list of dream jobs so I can get a post on here

Games journalism for mid-sized internet audience

Let's Player/video reviewer for multi-channel network

Programmer for small indie company

Level designer for larger company like Wayforward

Game localization for Nintendo/Sega

Social media/PR for any gaming-related community

Anything where I can be a part of the gaming community

Just spent the last few hours cleaning off my desk. Yes, it took a few hours, as it has been my special location for piling every piece of paper or other "important" thing for the last few years.

It was quite the trip. School documents, attempts at art, notes from my ex-girlfriend, church bulletins and study notes covered in doodles, applications for things I never went through with, even a (short-lived) journal from 2011. There were bank statements, comic books, magazines, and letters from family and friends, many of which either have never been read or have not been read since residing there.

Needless to say, my desk has not fulfilled its intended purpose for a long time. At last, however, I am using it to type this post. But the real struggle was not cleaning off the desk itself, it was navigating and relocating the contents.

Much of what I sorted through was junk, plain and simple. Either I had no more reason to keep it, or I never had a reason to keep it in the first place. In fact, I was about to throw it all away (except the comics/magazines), until I came across the aforementioned journal. Despite there being nothing of real value written there - which is why I stopped keeping up with it in the first place - I felt like I learned a little bit about how far I've come in those few years. In fact, a lot of the "junk" was interesting in that regard.

Each piece was a part of my life. Some of them brought up decisions I wasn't particularly proud of making. But all of them unlocked a piece of me that I had forgotten existed over time. Each new thing that came along made me forget the decisions I'd made, or the things I'd done, simply because those last few years demanded so much of my attention. But now that I could see them and answer for them, it felt like I no longer had to worry about them.

Mind you, I rarely worried about my past decisions, unless they were severe. But that was because I had to worry about the present. The back of my mind was still saying that something was unresolved, and that only contributed to my stress. Now that I've gotten a chance to catch up again, that feeling is gone - and I can focus on the future.

I still got rid of more than half the junk on my desk. However, I kept the parts that I felt were most important, and put them in a box. Now that I've answered for it and relived it, I can put it away freely. Maybe one day I'll come back to it and wonder what kind of idiot kills off a journal after a month.

Anyone who says that they're great at communicating but 'people are bad at listening' is confused about how communication works.

Randall Munroe, xkcd

Paranoia pt. 2: Better and worse

By the end of 2004 my panic attacks had mostly calmed down, but the paranoia lingered. I continued to have symptoms of whatever it was for about four or five years. Heck, it still affects me to this day, but it's better than it was.

My main concerns over that time were things like poisoned food, brainwashing, or deadly diseases - in short, anything that could attack me from the inside and I wouldn't have any control over it. I'm still not sure what this has to do with a hurricane, which is an external force, but it somehow amplified this fear into whatever it became. Somewhere in this time frame I attempted to run away, but it was paranoia-fueled and I didn't even make it off the doorstep before turning around.

The last real panic attack I had from this incident was about three years later. My family had adopted my cousin, I mean, uh, my brother, and we had moved again to another location (which wasn't great for my paranoia either). We were once again at Wal*Mart, but this situation could have occurred at any location: I got my arm stuck in between the cart and its handle, so I panicked and fainted.

I've only fainted twice in my life; the other time was when I fell off my bike and hit my head. But this time was drastically different, because somehow I dreamed while I was out. The dream was largely incoherent and felt like it lasted five minutes, but it reality it didn't even last five seconds before I woke up to my mom and my brother staring at me as I lay on the white-tiled floor - they didn't even have time to react.

This panic attack is incredibly interesting to me for a couple of reasons, notably the fact that I dreamed. I've heard people tell me that it's not possible to dream while unconscious, so I'm not quite sure what happened. The attack itself was strange because it was instant, and managed to black me out; normally there's buildup of tension, and I don't succumb to it.

After that one panic attack, however, things got mostly better. I still worried about silly things, but I was able to tell myself "you're just being paranoid, calm down, that's not likely to happen." I'd used that reasoning in the past without much success, but now it seemed to be working. Within a year I was mostly fixed from my incident.

Then something recurred, and at a really horrible time.

The ending. THE ENDING.

My friend Shermanator555 and I were racing online. (I'm Rosalina, as usual.) I was in the lead for most of the race, and then I lost the lead... and I got desperate... and this happened.

When Smash comes out, he'll have me for lunch.