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Sonya the Cat

Sonya the Cat

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About Me

Maybe: Photographer. Writer. Translator. Noone. Alien. Allovertheplace.
may write in many languages(with lots of typos)

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1 out of 5 Amanda Bouchet anxiety asd=vulcan aspergers bookish bookreviews books brokenmind canteven chaos comfort books contemporary depression dreams fantasy favorites film photography filmphotography foodrelated gamingworld historical humans humor Ilona Andrews inspirational japan Julia Quinn justwhy languages life magic memories mental illness moments movies music Nalini Singh nature pain people photography prague quotes R.J. Blain rain reading rockislife romance romantic comedy sci-fi shifters SometimesI soulcry sound startrek subscriptionboxes Thea Harrison to avoid travels truth tvshows typohumor uk vampires videos weirdness winterthoughts wolves womenproblems wordsarehard work world writing ya

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1 out of 5 Amanda Bouchet anxiety asd=vulcan aspergers bookish bookreviews books brokenmind canteven chaos comfort books contemporary depression dreams fantasy favorites film photography filmphotography foodrelated gamingworld historical humans humor Ilona Andrews inspirational japan Julia Quinn justwhy languages life magic memories mental illness moments movies music Nalini Singh nature pain people photography prague quotes R.J. Blain rain reading rockislife romance romantic comedy sci-fi shifters SometimesI soulcry sound startrek subscriptionboxes Thea Harrison to avoid travels truth tvshows typohumor uk vampires videos weirdness winterthoughts wolves womenproblems wordsarehard work world writing ya

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Post about petty office things: I've been involved, for a while now, in a silent warfare at the office with people I don't even know. On one front, I've been turning off the lights in the tiny elevator hallway every time I go out of the room for a number of reasons: 1) it has floor-to-ceiling windows, and it's plenty bright during the day; 2) the artificial light is too white, too bright, and disgusting; 3) it's also defective and makes a nasty disgusting buzzing sound when it's on; 4) the hallway is tiny, and even in the evening, there's enough light coming from the glass doors and the stairway; 5) for months and months no one ever turned on the lights in there, until last month; now, someone insists on turning them on from morning to evening as many times a day as I turn them off, even if the sunlight is actually brighter. I say: 'F you, whoever you are, and your disgusting, broken, artificial lighting'. Another battlefield is located in the bathroom, where someone insists on turning up the heating on the seat to the very maximum setting, which I call 'fry your ass, sweat while you do your business, and, if you don't carry/use anti-bacterial wipes every time, sit there and think about the ass-sweat of every person who sat and sweated there before you'-hot setting. Seriously though. This is Tokyo, not Hokkaido. It's at least 26C inside. If you need to fry your ass, do it at home.
Since my trusty walkman that stayed with me daily for the last almost 5 years decided to stop being trusty and started dying on me; and Sony decided they were gonna do that thing again when they don't have products you pre-ordered (after debating yourself for a week) on their official store in stock on the release day (and for a whole following week as well, at least), I had to dig out this old friend from the emergency drawer. It sure has been a while, I'm surprised it still works. Seriously though, wtf, Sony?
Sometimes it's so very difficult to escape from this feeling that every single thing I do, every single choice I make, is terribly wrong. One minute I'm fine, taking care of weekend chores, and next minute I'm crushing. I've also realised that once you have depression long enough, you kind of start forgetting that it's a thing.

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