The Desert Mermaid

You know you’ve got serious Weepy PMS™ when you find yourself suddenly near tears over how horribly wrong Rebecca Black’s career went the moment it began.

I can’t help it! I have lots of hormones! And “Friday” is like a video of a kitten slamming into a plate glass window. You can’t help but laugh, but oh the poor dear.

I’m going to go watch a stupid 1950’s B-movie and probably burst into sobs when the town drunk gets eaten by a rubber monster. Don’t wait up.


ETA: Watched a Tinker Bell movie instead AND A THROWAWAY JOKE REDUCED ME TO TEARS. Y'all, I think my ovaries are broken.

My muscles are actually sore from flailing around playing Donkey Kong Country Returns.

I see what my brother means. The game isn't impossibly hard, but all the shit you gotta collect in each level MAKES it hard.

On the other hand, HELL YEAH I HAVE A ROCKET RHINO. NOTHING WILL STOP ME NOW.

Finding The ESL/ELL Teacher’s Book of Lists at the library and just about peeing myself thinking of the conlanging potential in a giant book of wordlists.

SO. MANY. WORDS. In CATEGORIES! And LEVELS! Oh, god, my inner creative linguist and my inner bureaucrat are the happiest personifications on Earth.

When your mom comes into your room and says, “Hi, honey! I found those T-shirt scraps you were looking for. Also, I think you have Asperger’s. Ask your psychiatrist when you see him again.”

What am I supposed to do with that? I told her that Asperger’s is the latest condition you can suddenly get by reading the Wikipedia article about it,* but when your mom decides that you have it, it kinda makes the Forer effect seem a little harder to discount.

If nothing else, it'll make for an entertaining round of Ask The Psychiatrist.


*Although let’s be fair—sometimes reading an article on a condition can be an epiphany. As in, “Holy shit! There’s a name for that characteristic of mine which people have commented on for years!”

When you are 24 years old and estimate you are probably one of the oldest people in the sold-out midnight showing theater. And trust me, being amongst a group of rowdy tweeners is sort of like being in the middle of an internet forum. I hunched down with a book and pretended I didn’t exist.*

Anyway, I didn’t care for the nonexistent plot of this movie nearly as much as I did the nonexistent plot of the first Transformers, but it wasn’t bad. They did take out all the useless characters and put in new useless characters, many of which were annoying enough to make me rather miss the old ones, and while The Girl actually got to do a couple of things in it, the movie's erring on the side of the privileged was a lot less comfortably dumb than the last one. (Don't tell me The Twins were a good idea. They weren't.)

Robot-slamming, however, left no complaints. I was very happy to see that even though Soundwave got a badass upgrade*** he still had little minions like Ravage. Hell, his minions have minions. And Optimus … well, I’ll cut for possibly hinted spoilers, but let’s just say that he succeeds where ( another popular figure ) fails to get an emotional response out of me. I am not at all sure why.

It didn’t reach in and grab me by the inner child, and I think it was too dumb for me to just sit back and wave it off as "Dude, giant space robots, whatcha gonna do" but it did have lots of shinies. gwalla, for example, gets his wish granted. Not a bad way to spend your midnight, but could have been way better. I’ll stick with the first, thanks.


*There was a Twilight: More Vapid Standing Around trailer. My ears will never be the same.**

**My revenge was to loudly advise everyone in the theater to boycott The Last Airbender for whitewashing when that trailer showed up. Letter-writing is all well and good, but dollars are what Hollywood understands.

***Which is a damn shame, because nothing can match old-school Soundwave in terms of pure awesome, by god. Fear the robotone voice and his cassette tape minions and his awesome powers of STREETLIGHT!

Here is the entirety of the last sentence at the very bottom of the “about your medication” sheet for this round of Fukitol:

CONTACT YOUR DOCTOR AT ONCE if

Good to know they're looking out for me.

I’ve been having to censor myself from the world recently. Sometimes that happens—I become unable to shoulder the weight of the world, from social injustice to overly emotional movies. The low-level panic attack I’ve mentioned can flare into something not-so-low at the slightest provocation. Last time I had to do that was in high school, when I would refuse to take an interest anything I could get even slightly emotionally invested in because it would trigger panic that the thing I was invested in would Come To No Good. I didn’t want to bury my head in the sand for the rest of my life, but I remember explaining to someone it was like a raw wound—not something you’d expose to even normal elements or wear and tear until it got back its normal strength and resilience.

I’ve tapered enough off of Failed Fukitol Trial #1 to start Hopefully Not Failed Fukitol Trial#2 today. Let’s see if it works.


Also! I wasn't going to bandwagon onto a fandom I'm not really into, but this image of Rorschach is pretty much dead-on to my own feelings about antidepressants.