The third game in the series

He/him. Gender? I don't know what word to use to describe my sexuality. I love video games and the nature. (Almost) all animals are my friends. My dream is to live in a jungle. Note: this blog is still under construction and I still haven't found a theme I like.

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Don’t say it’s impossible unless you’ve died trying to do it. And don’t want it, unless you’d be ready to battle through World War 3 to have it.

I’m from the millennium when people were actually willing to die in order to save their country. Our tiny nation fought against the world’s biggest country, and we won. Because we didn’t blather, “It’s impossible” or “We don’t have the science yet, maybe in the future”. We decided, “Either we gain independency or we all die”, and we gained independency through sheer willpower alone even though we were greatly outnumbered.

And that’s what’s wrong with modern people. They’d rather live a bad life, than take a risk. No matter how minimal the risk, and how unforeseeable the results might be. They are not innovative, they don’t want to change the world. Better to rot in Hell than open the door to see if there’s a Paradise waiting for us just a few steps away from where we are now, right?

Has anyone ever read history and noticed how we don’t live like Ancient Egyptians anymore? Oh yeah, that’s impossible. “Because nothing ever changes and nothing new is possible and we don’t have the science yet to build automobiles and telephones, maybe in year 3000 or so″.

(Speaking of WW3, I hope they won’t use any mass destruction weapons. We don’t need mass destruction, just mass waking up.)

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In other news, on Thursday I have my first appointment with tender gender doctors. Or at least I hope they are tender and have a gender (/jk).

Sigh. To me, it’s, among other things, a lot about wanting to have any other body than a woman’s body, and not objecting to the idea of having a man’s body. I just sometimes wish there was a third sex. You know, I fear that, no matter what I am in my head , in bodily matters I’ll only ever be “a woman with a beard” (not that there’s anything bad with that, but I’d prefer much more manly cis-ness, you know). Aaand, well, if there was “an island between the two opposite countries”, I could have at least something to anchor myself in instead of trying to swim across the ocean from one coast to the opposite one and then almost drowning in the process and then having to return to the starting point and admit that it’s impossible to ever get to anywhere from here. (What a bad analogy.)

I guess what I’m saying is, I might just rather want to be “90% third sex and 10% woman” than “50% man and 50% woman”, if that makes any sense. (Just like a dog that is 90% good/okayish and 10% bad is better than a dog that is 50% great and 50% awful, at least to me). Being 100%man would be a dream come true, but if that’s not possible, being as little woman as possible would be preferred too.

Meh, I worded this awfully and probably wrote something I didn’t mean, but yeah.

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I tried to write about a little dream I saw last night, but I just can’t write in English today. I’m unable to form a working sentence, and I can’t access my vocabulary. Meh, I’m writing worse than a schoolkid.

I should join an English writing class/group. Or, I could use that one language app, the name of which escapes me, and get writing help from a native speaker. (And anyone who knows me can bet their money that the moment I joined that site (half a year ago) I forgot about its existence and thus have never used even once. Ouch.)

Related to languages, my friend gave me two books about Old English and Middle English. She said she hated having to study them in college, but upon reading them I found them very interesting. I love how the old languages were like a mixture of German, English and a little bit of Scandinavian languages.

The books taught me a lot. I finally know why it’s “children” and not “childs”, and why “be, am, is, are, was, were, been” but “I wash, you wash, she washes, we wash, washed” etc.. All in all, very interesting stuff.

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“You are not normal, and you don’t have to be normal”, said one nice psychiatrist to one asperger woman. I think it was nicely said. “You’re just pretending to not be normal”, one particularly uneducated person would have insisted.

Maybe I would be more accepting of that one person, if that one person wasn’t always accusing me of “just pretending to be antisocial, just pretending to be tired, just pretending to be autistic, pretending, pretending”. Really. If I could be more social, I would. If I could have more energy, I would. If being around people didn’t make me easily tired, I’d be happy and would go make lots of friends this instant. But the truth is, being forced to spend time around people drains most of my energy no matter what I do.

Heck, (if I drank alcohol) I swear I could drink so many beer bottles that I passed out right in front of that person’s eyes and they would just complain to me that I’m just “pretending to be drunk”. Shit, if told them I’m not the King of Europe, they would just whine “You’re just pretending that you’re not the King of Europe”.

Why would an “educated social worker” person label someone a “pretender” instead of thinking “they clearly aren’t an exact copy of me”? They are supposed to be the educated one, I’m supposed to be the dumb patient here, hey? They are the one who should be educated of different kinds of people with all kinds of issues and abnormalities and attributes etc.. Don’t ever show them a person with Tourette syndrome, actually, don’t ever show them a blind person either. They would take the dog and the stick from the blind person, and throw that poor blind person into the middle of the car road, just to show that “the poor person is not really blind, they’re just pretending to not see the cars and bikes”. Sheesh.

What an ignorant fool. I don’t want to meet them again. So long as it’s just them accusing me of “pretending”, all communication between us is futile. I’m not an Oscar winner, I hardly have the skills to pretend anything.

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My life doesn’t matter, my well-being doesn’t matter, my health doesn’t matter, not even my safety matters.

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PS: How can a person know Valve and Half Life, but not Steam? No-one ever knows of Steam in my country even though one fifth of our population is on Steam

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I feel like an idiot. When I’m alone I feel really bad and hateful, but when I spend a moment with another human I become to feel like people are nice and the world is good and everything is possible. I begin to feel dumb for being so hateful and negative and hopeless, yet I can’t make that feeling of positiviness to stay! No matter how hard I try to stay happy, it will only take two hours before I’m back to the old negative self.

I wonder... Maybe I’m so negative because most of my few human contacts (in real life) are with people who lead a negative life? I don’t know. I just feel more energetic when I’m with energetic people, and happier when I’m with happy people. For example, today I told one person that I have thought of applying for one school that teaches video game making and marketing, and that person was really supporting (almost in “un-Northern-European-way”, lol ;P) and made feel like I really should apply for that school next year, and I could get in, and I would be able to become a real game developer. For a moment I’ve felt that anything could be possible if I just did it and that everything will go well and be fine.

Alas, I know that after a few hours this positive feeling will have gone away and I’m back to being depressed and hopeless.

... I wish I had someone in real life, someone who I could meet regularly and who could make me feel more hopeful. If most of my few weekly human contacts make me feel that I’m a hopeless loser, how could I ever develope an “I can do this!” mentality? I couldn’t. For years I’ve just run on this same sad wheel, never making progress. I feel that I’m trapped and can’t escape.

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Even I’m informed enough to know that “not all boys” and “not all girls” and “not all X” even if it feels like that 90% of the time.

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It’s a wonder how, in a room with a dozen stereotypic girls with long hair and fashionable dresses and make-up and typical “girly girl” behaviour, someone can still look at me in my really short hair and boys’ clothes and with behaviour not of typical anything and say “Yep, that’s definitely a girly girl who’s interested and disinterested in all the same things as those dozen other girls”.

I don’t look at that one goth girl and say “Yep, a typical girl from countryside”. Neither do I look at a spaniel and think “If that isn’t a Rottweiler then nothing is!. I mean, if I looked and behave like a girly girl, then I would understand that everyone would believe me to be interested in shopping and not liking tractors, but come on! I swear I could wear a Linux t-shirt and carry with me a self-built laptop and still someone uninformed would claim “You’re a stereotypical girl and stereotypical girls don’t code!” Nah, nah! *shakes fist* =(

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Or maybe I’m just extraordinaly good at thinking (in expense for being really bad at doing). I’m more of a thinker, a visionare. Then, the others, they are good at doing (they did make that list a reality after all and even printed it and sent it to me, I probably couldn’t have done that), but then they aren’t that good at using their head. They are the hands, I’m the head. It would be more balanced if I had more “doing-capacity” and they more “thinking-capacity” or so, but now I’m going off-topic when I was supposed to fill the forms, oops.

Weird world.

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How can we live in an age where we have mobile phones and automobiles, but formal depression tests are unscientific and unpsychologic? =( Please people, don’t make me study psychology in order to throw 90% of your “accomplisments” out of the window. Heck, I could even believe those hot-water-cold-water tests were more humane and they were pretty inhumane. Even if they didn’t provide anyone with any good results, that’s not any less better than this modern nonsense.

People should be concerned with results. If you don’t burn with passion to make modern psychology better and to see better results in patients, don’t study psychology. I don’t fix cars to break them, eh eh!

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Depressed people often gain fat because they eat in their misery, they might go from weighting 70 kilograms to 150 kilos. Then, when they get less depressed and more well-doing and energetic, they often start to lose pounds and after a few years they are back to weighting 70 kilos and are happy with their life. And are really proud of their accomplishment, too.

So why is it then, that in a formal depression test, there are five options to choose from: “My weight is normal”, “I’m so depressed I’ve lost 3 kilos”, “I’m so depressed I’ve lost 5 kilos”, “I’m so depressed I’ve lost over 5 kilos”?!, and “I’ve been purposelly trying to lose my weight and have succeeded by (X) kilos.” So if I eat in my stress tons of trash food and gain 35 kilos more weight it’s a sign of me being the least depressed person on the Earth ever? Really now, get your things right!

If I had created that test, there would be “I’ve been significantly underweight or overweight for at least 12 months already”, ”My weight hasn’t changed or has only changed slightly”, “I’ve gained or lost at least 3 kilos”, “I’ve gained or lost more than 5 kilos”, “I’ve gained or lost more than 10 kilos”, “I’ve been purposelly trying to lose or gain weight and have succeeded by (X) kilos”. There, one more option, but in the end a lot more truthful and helpful a test than a mere “How many Big Macs have you skipped recently?” blahblah.

EDIT: PS: I’ve gained five kilos in past months because I’ve been stress-eating and feeling really powerless and unenergetic and depressed etc. So, what should I answer? I would be lying if I said that I’ve lost weight, and I can’t really say that gaining five kilos of weight is “normal” for me after years of having been of the same weight. And I don’t want to act like a nuisance and write an essay all over the paper in red pen about depression and fat gains nor do I want to explain myself to idiots and... Sigh, does it really take a genius to come up with good answers? If so, we are all geniuses except for that one guy.

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Today I was in a meeting where I had to talk with about 10 people for an hour. That’s enough for this year. I never want to see another person before next year. Being with people is so mentally exhausting.

To other people they’re alone when they are alone, and they aren’t talking with anyone when they aren’t talking with anyone. But in my case, my mind is still in that room chatting with them, listening to them babble of all sorts of things. I want it to stop. I can’t withdraw my mind back into my head, into this room where I’m alone right now. No. I’m still 90% in there, in that time, in that place. It never ends.

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God, that was horrible.

I was in exile for a day. It’s a wonder this building hasn’t yet been burned down. I cried for a second when I came into my apertment and everything was still untouched - albeit reeking of booze from the hallway. Oh shit, the hallway. It’s... in a bad condition. Litres of booze everywhere. Mixed with a smell of something I don’t recognize, prolly the drugs I overheard them talking about.

In related but other news, I went to psychiatric emergency. After the mandatory waiting (despite almost no other patients but two women together), I got to speak to an emergency psychiatric nurse. I cried and poured over about everything (except for my transgender issues, I was too afraid). She was a very good nurse. She helped me to calm down (I almost got a panic attack and fainted), and she let me tell about my problems on my own pace and didn’t rush me. I’m too exhausted to tell more, but yeah, talking to her helped me at least some amount. I was also able to tell her something I haven’t been able to tell to my regular psychologist. It felt good to be finally able to tell of my deeper issues, and it was nice that she didn’t judge me and didn’t make me feel worse. So, in the end, we decided that she writes down on some doctornet what we talked about, and then they can see her writing at the policlinic.

Yaah. I’m exhausted. I’m feeling a hundred different emotions at the moment, and yet I’m also feeling nothing special. Maybe the emotions balance themselves out, and I feel neutral.

Okay, one more thing. I want this reek of drugs and booze out of my apartment.

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And they started it anew. From before 10pm to 5:54am.

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Okay, now I feel like I’m starting to calm down. Still hoping for someone to play Call of Duty at max vol.

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I miss the days when terrorism was the biggest threat. There should be two types of people, terrorists and the good guys. You would have to get rid of the terrorists using any means possible, and everyone else was good. Happy ending.