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My birthday coincides with the day of Earth’s 1st contact,
and people don’t appreciate my Star Trek hoodies enough.

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Still can’t forget.

That one day about two years ago, when I, 15 minutes before the end of a long workday, came up to the manager and asked him if there “were any instructions from the CIA” with a very straight face.

Complete, with the whole “manager sitting down with a squeak and people turning heads towards us in the dead silence” scene.

It took me about 2 years working in gaming company to finally stop pronouncing SCEA (SIE) as CIA in Japanese.

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I wanted to stop people from noticing things about myself, because of the ways they were voicing them in, so I ran away into my loneliness.
I didn’t really make a conscious decision to run, but when my life turned in such a way that a big effort would be required to find people and make connections again, I chose not to make that effort. 
I wanted people to stop talking about the way I touch things. Or look at things. Or eat things. 
I wanted them to stop probing and poking and criticizing.
I wanted them to stop paying attention to things about me that I don’t have enough of an attention span to notice myself. Because I never knew someone could do it kindly.
I spend a lot of time inside my head, and when someone starts noticing the things I do while not paying attention to the things I do, it makes me feel vulnerable and naked. So I wanted them to stop.

And yet, in the end, not having anyone notice things about you for you is one of those things that will eventually drive a person mad.

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rain. aroma diffuser with woody and foresty oils. hot cocoa. ambient fantasy soundtrack. 
Sunday.
I’m out.

it’s kind of pathetic to need all this, if you think about it, but we won’t think about it 
We do what we’ve got to do

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still trying to read stuff, write stuff and watch stuff at the same time,
like I can’t decide or can’t handle doing only one

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sometimes I just forget to tell myself that I’m crazy, 
when I’m writing this story and struggle with some part and think “I can’t just change this! Because that’s how it happened!“

I also wish I could just see in other writers’ heads, to find out why writing some things feels like making up things any way you want, and writing other things feels like you’re trying very hard to ‘novelise a movie’ from memory (and a very old memory at that)

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when you come in to work in the morning and see coffee spilled on the stairs outside… and feel genuine pity for the poor soul

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The glamour of working in gaming company:
Most mornings elevators smell like developers who didn’t go home for 3 days.
Or like excessive amount of whatever spray was used to hide that fact.
Depending on the department, you will find the most asexual workplace you’ve ever seen.
Others don’t come far behind though.
80% of people talk to themselves. Some in rather lengthy monologues.

I hear they also have to throw out a ton of sweets and present people send to fictional characters on the Valentines day and Birthdays and stuff.

 

 

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I just saw a person on tv who is like the complete opposite of me in one very important aspect.
He can’t stand touching paper.
…
THERE’S A PERSON WHO CAN’T STAND TOUCHING PAPER. :scream::scream::scream:

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There are many places I miss being at.
The problem is, even if I miss being there, I don’t really miss living there.

Because I feel that I wouldn’t be able to live there on my own. Unless there’s someone willing to act as a buffer between me and the society in those places in everyday situations
So I’m staying put where I am, where I can do things by myself.

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“I want my book” sounds so unsettlingly like “I want my pacifier” in my head, … I can’t even….