Fortress of Perpetual Midnight

I'll be gone to Georgia from Sunday, 2009.10.20 to Sunday, 2009.10.27. Of course, that means I'll probably be able to check my mail and LJ every day. . . .

My brother tells me that besides Indiana, he's considering applying for a precinct in Seattle due to the pay. In either location, rooming with him would make things a lot easier on me. Also, having a brother on the squad could possibly give me access to information about laws and/or weapons.

Incidentally, there are some other conceivable perquisites to the job that I failed to mention before. I can remember one: As it doesn't publish anything that has to be out the morning after it's written, the company would presumably allow me to work during the day, which would allow me to keep a constant schedule several days in a row, making things a lot easier on me physically and mentally.

It also occurred to me that I could try being a bounty hunter. Even if they don't let me have a firearm, I could try disarming people with a nightstick and stuff. And for that or being a private eye, I'd only need to have a reasonable relationship with one area police officer, and I have a pretty good idea of who(m) that would be.

Other things I forgot to mention the other night:

Considering the accessibility of the brass, perhaps paizo would be a small enough company that they didn't use huge machines to pack the stuff, meaning people could converse without screaming. I think that would be helpful for building relationships and communication. On the other hand, there wouldn't be anyplace in the department where you wouldn't be chugging smoke from the people outside (or inside) the loading dock, or those who had just come in from break. (I wonder how people with significant allergies to tobacco can survive in America. They can't work at blue-collar jobs, and there are very few colleges they can attend in order to get others. Is that enough to get you disability benefits?)

It also occurred to me that I could use the skills I've had to develop to my advantage. Most significantly, at work, I've had a lot of practice hiding, sneaking, and keeping an eye on my enemies. Unfortunately, I can't join the military or a S.W.A.T. team or anything, so I don't know where I could turn that into a legal profession. In fiction, private eyes do a lot of spying on people, but I don't know anywhere that would be legal or tolerable, and I'd have to join as a specialist in an agency where someone else does the customer service.

When I talked to my contemporary social worker about the idea of joining the force noted here, she said she didn't think I'd be able to become stronger by it. That's fair enough; I also realized that I'd make a lot of enemies in the force by my opinion that officers should follow laws. (It also occurred to me that they don't get to take the squad cars home, do they? If not, most of the time they're driving them around would be when they're on patrol, which begs the question, why the hell are they in such a hurry?)

Beside the warehouse job at Privateer Press noted at the bottom of the same post, there was also a similar position at the other best company in the same area. However, where the former one stopped responding to my emails on several occasions after discussion, the latter was never willing to answer even once. Oddly enough, whenever I've sent an email to the company about anything other than that position, the CEO personally replied, to the point of giving me information about their lines that wouldn't be announced for some months afterward. It (relatively) recently occurred to me that I could try going through her to get to the job. But, after the wake-up call, I guess it wouldn't work. I imagine the people at the company wouldn't treat me as such a freak as the ones where I am now do (or at least I'd be able to find someone to talk to), but the rest of my life would probably not work without anyone I know in the entire region.

Anyway, my current social worker suggests that maybe I could get Mother to let me quit this job if I got another. Of course, there's no way I can go to any interviews, so the best we have on that front is considering applying again for assistance in that area.

So, I went to the wedding. Besides getting out of hell for a while, it also gave me the chance to experience a bunch of unusual situations (such as hanging out with people who've been drinking). The wedding itself wasn't overtly religious; although the officiate (the bride's brother) had "vestments" and "authority . . . by God," he was apparently joking. During the actual ceremony (from what I could make out from behind all the more important people who were able to stand in the area with chairs), I don't recall if he referenced any religions that are still believed by significant numbers of people. On the other hand, it appears that the bride took the groom's last name. It's sad that people still cling to this chauvinistic tradition even a full generation after people started fixing it.

One thing, however, that struck me was how many times I was too afraid even to say things to lokodraucarn, one of the closest I have to a friend and one of the few people I'm inviting when trying to get together a group where I don't have to be afraid. In this case, I believe that having a common interest gives me courage, but I don't know whether it will help me move on or just be inapplicable to other situations. I went to another diagnosis last week, and the best they could drum up was "schizotypal disorder."

I completely forgot to do the laundry on my long day when I had time. (I'd skipped it when I had the chance last week because I didn't have enough to make a real load.)

My new assignment from my social worker is to read Sections 1–4 of Chapter 9 (when they actually get to the exercises). We looked over some things during the session. I'm a bit ambivalent about the parts about how I'm supposed to act. For example, let's look at eye contact:

1. In high school, the "normals" claimed that if you look at someone, it's definitely because you want to have sex with that person (like how you're automatically masturbating unless you keep both hands above the table). This shouldn't be a problem, but one of the two main ringleaders in the department has stated publicly that he takes pride in being less mature than a high-school student, and both certainly act that way.

2. Lowering my head is the only compromise I've found between treating ladies with respect and not being considered a freak.

3. I've also ended up keeping my head down at work, as the only way I can find to avoid fights is to avoid any interactions entirely. It irks me to have to bow to a man, but I don't see any other option.

Of course, I didn't have the guts to say any of this to her. She says I'm going to have to start by practicing on her on Monday.

At work, I got in trouble for not completely disposing of things when I wasn't explicitly told how much to do. Admittedly, I haven't gotten in that many fights because people caught me cleaning up properly.

For the second shift, the operator gave me the choice of either working the station where I can't keep up or the one with two people. I didn't want to provoke people by thinking about it, so I made a snap decision to the latter. Unfortunately, I failed to consider the fact that they put me there replacing the one of the previous two with whom I actually get along, leaving me to work with the one person I despise most. (He's still only one of my three main enemies, as I don't fear him nearly as much as the other two.) I've deliberately been avoiding teamwork for some time now, but this really rubbed my face in the fact that, after more than six months, he's still completely incompetent at this job. Besides the usual slowness (he's one of the only two in the 20-man department who's slower than I) and sloppiness, he kept making obvious mistakes and then escalating them continuously. Even if I were willing to try to communicate with an enemy in less than an emergency, he has a track record of doing the opposite of what I say even when he asks me (hopefully because he's deaf and delusional, not malicious). It's a good thing they replaced him with someone else for the hard part.

Other than being unable to get up, I didn't have many particular problems. I actually made sure to check my email before game time so I could actually tell that there wasn't going to be a session before I missed my show. Having to live in fear all the time is still making work rather nonexistent.

I'm thinking maybe I should start with "Final Exam" and "Mandalorian with a Mission" here, just to avoid giving a first impression of too much sex.

Well, I said that I'd be picking these up later, but with all else I have to do on the computer and how little I get to use it (to say nothing of the fact that I have about 30 minutes worth of stuff I'm required to do every time I use it), there's no way I'm going to be able to catch up with my backlog. Consequently, I'll just point out the complicated things that I missed:

*Overhearing Mother talking to my brother about racism

*Doubt

*Work

*Easter

Yeah, this is out of order. I just want to have this first part for posterity, and there's too much to type for the weekend for me to get that out of the way first.

"[T]his first part" is the set of goals I've set (with my social worker's input). I have until Monday the 27th. I've had mixed results with trying to do specific things before, but anyway:

1. Read the introduction to the book I chose to make sure it's the one I want to use

2. Work out character and outfit designs for the two main characters my short "♥2♥." This one seemed like a good starting point, as of the ones that are yuri enough for the contest*, it was the tamest (with the exception of the ones set in Japan, which would require more research, particularly for this audience). This means that it will be less insulting to the ladies who will judge, as well as those who read. It also means that sloppy drawing won't be terribly accentuated, as they keep their clothes mostly on. I later realized that I may be able to write "A Crowd" (which does not have a blurb as of press time) with even less sex, and that that part isn't set in a place with school uniforms, which is in theory a good way to show off not being just another Japanese illustrator, but that would also require more design work. . . .

3. Move some furniture to make the bedroom work better. Ironically, this means switching it so that the paper will be in the place that isn't convenient to reach. I shouldn't be trying to store paper in a cruddy drawer anyway.

*According to the latest issue of YuriHime S, the YuriHime label is having its contest separately from the other mags now. I don't know anything that's really changed by that.

In terms of things that actually happened, I got caught up in working on my tags and only grabbed a piece of bread and a mint on my way out. I was planning to get a small snack from the vending machine just before the first shift, but I forgot to get money before closing the locker. To aggravate this, I didn't get an individual break, so I didn't have a chance to get my meal to somewhere I'd be able to access it in-between shifts. At this time, there are always at least five people in the break room, so the likelihood that I can go through there to the locker without going ballistic is pretty slim even when I'm at my best. As it happened, I had other people moving around my equipment in ways that really tick me off, so by the end of the first shift, I was having another nervous breakdown. I went back into the warehouse area and cried for a while, then moved to the warmer (but generally less private) maintenance room to wait for the next shift.

I then noticed that the between-shifts stack-down was being performed by one of the people who is willing to listen to me and one who has started recently enough that I haven't made much of an enemy of him yet. I decided to approach there and see if the former would let me help, thus allowing me actually to do some work instead of hiding. However, the new worker started looking at me and gesturing, probably in an attempt to find out whether I wanted to do his job instead. He didn't say anything, so I couldn't order him to stay or to actually ask the question, and I can't go around deciding by myself what people mean if they don't speak, so I ended up having to replace him entirely. I was afraid that one of my three main enemies was going to replace the other worker when she went home, but fortunately, he was leaving at that point, too. The lady's actual replacement was someone who is actually willing to talk to me sometimes and with whom I haven't had any major fights as far as I know, but unfortunately, he's used to my taking the lead and deciding when to switch out the skids when we do stack-down together. As I just keep getting in more and more fights, I wasn't willing to take the initiative, so we just kept stacking the first skid higher and higher until the operator moved it out. All of these things made me particularly worried, but neither of the workers who work opposite me seemed to notice my sobbing.

For the second shift, the operator put me on the position where he always puts me at 03:30 on Tuesdays. Besides my being too slow to work that station adequately, I also have to run to get ready every hour or so when a new paper starts, as the operator starts without letting me catch up about 50% of the time. Twice, I've tried telling him when I can't do things he assigns me, but both times, he just said "okay" and made me do them anyway, resulting in fully and semi-catastrophic failure, respectively, of the shifts' work. Knowing (from these and other cases) that I can't ask for help, combined with the fact that I was in bad physical condition at the time, resulted into more running around and falling over to try to keep up, which continued to be rather humiliating.

Anyway, I was working alone this time, so I had plenty of time to ponder how ridiculous it is that I'm supposed to work in a place where I can't communicate with most people even in an emergency, thus completely preventing me from filling out my duties. I'm not sure my social worker and I aren't doing anything about this. It's just getting worse and worse, but I'm still not allowed to quit. I had a few fantasies about severely injuring myself or threatening the operator with a knife, thus forcing them to fire and/or institutionalize me so I could start rebuilding my life. In any case, I managed to stuff the snack down my throat during the 10-minute break during the second shift, so I felt better afterward. (I did have to give up using the restroom, but I had done that only five hours earlier, as opposed to the 10.5 I went without substantial food.) Still, when I got back to Mother's house, I didn't feel like actually getting a full meal (perhaps because of the monotony of the few things I'm given), and I used my condition as an excuse not to call the clinic as mentioned here.

Although it started out as usual, I was feeling better by the end of the shift, as the operator gave me something to do after the run: ready the inserts for the next one. In the old days, people were willing to help me with this, but last night I prized the chance actually to work instead of hiding and try to avoid ill will because I wasn't helping. Alone, I ended up working until all of my serious enemies (except the operator) had left, so I used the chance to clean up some other things without getting caught, just to kill time until I was given permission to go home.

Mostly business as usual. I forgot the Paroxetine on Wednesday. I have been trying to interact with the few people with whom I feel I can do so relatively safely, but I'm still far below the point where I was when I started this job. In particular, having to avoid communication during gaming limits my participation.

I believe that the other thing I was going to mention in the last post was the fact that I got in trouble at the end of a shift. We were short of the number of papers we needed, and I saw some that I assumed hadn't been noticed. I couldn't tell anyone about them or ask whether I should take them, so I just risked taking them and turning them in. It turned out that I wasn't supposed to take them yet. I remembered this because in last night's shift, they were forgotten, and I was asked to get them when a worker remembered. (That still doesn't justify my mistake, really. That would only happen if the other workers had never thought of it.)

Speaking of things I forget, I probably also shouldn't try to list all the songs stuck in my head throughout typing an entire post. The one at the end (when I'm filling in that field) can be complicated enough to identify.

In other news, I was again not told whether or not I have to do a job noted here until after I'm supposed to start it. However, this time it was complicated enough that one of the other workers (from another department, no less) was willing to talk to me about how we thought we should do it. Sadly, I couldn't return the favor in full, but at least I answered his questions and suggestions. Later, when the operator asked me to do more of the same but then realized it wouldn't work out, he explained (a very rare thing for him) why he had to correct himself.

I also got the final number of hours including the week with the error mentioned here. I had kept a note of the number of hours, but I stupidly failed to remember whether I had written down the correct number or the one that was listed on the sheet. Still, judging by the number of shifts I worked, it looks like it was corrected.

I'm unsurprisingly having trouble with keeping up on these journals. I have so many things to do each time I get on the computer that if I get sidetracked by even one thing, I often don't get around to putting these posts together until I've run out of time. (Sitting in front of a computer for three hours straight most every day is a pain.) This makes it more difficult to remember many things. Anyway, highlights this time include:

*There weren't any serious problems in the game on Tuesday.

*On Wednesday, we had another of those fights where I agreed to go with the GM's ruling, yet he continued to pursue it for a number of minutes afterward. I feel that all the sidetracks are disruptive to the game, but I believe this is the only campaign in which I've been a player where the GM is the biggest problem in that area. This, as well as the fact that the point was he was trying to dispute my knowledge of the galaxy far, far away based on explicit statements in two official sources just because he hadn't read them, made it a bit annoying. This also exemplifies the fact that he is one of the people who often seems unable to comprehend what I'm saying, even when I state it as clearly as possible. As with the job, the fact that he's unwilling to communicate on these things through email makes it difficult.

*I also find it somewhat annoying that, since I always have to leave for work before they finish the session, they decide on scheduling without me. It would be nice if they would at least email me what they decided. (Instead, I just assume that it will be the same each week, which works reasonably well in practice, but I don't like the uncertainty of not finding out whether I need to be there until I get there. It's a good thing it's an online game.) This time, I have another appointment that will conflict with the usual time; it's a matter of speculation whether I would have thought to tell them that if I had been in on the discussion. (I sent them an email instead. More than 24 hours later, there has been no response whatsoever.)

*When I got to work, only two of my three worst enemies were there, but they were standing right where our start-of-shift meetings take place, so I decided to play it safe by standing on the other side of the machinery about three paces away. I tried to watch to see when the operator arrived to give us our assignments, but I must have missed her. Exacerbating the problem, the part-timers in the meeting were talking so loudly that I was unable to hear that the meeting was taking place, so I didn't realize until afterward.

*Both nights, I was set to do the mail. I'll try to explain things enough that you can get the gist of this. In many cases, I'm not allocated as many papers as I'm supposed to use for that. I was never told where I am supposed to get the copies to make up the difference, which means that no matter what I do, I risk it being wrong and thus getting in trouble when caught. (In the less than a year I've been doing this task, I haven't thought it important enough to risk asking what I'm supposed to do.) I have resorted to stealing from the reject pile when others aren't looking. The problem with this is that I don't necessarily get all the contents that they should have, as I have to be pretty quick about it. On Thursday night, I was actually given permission to take copies from another station. I imagine that that would probably be all right any night, even if someone else is at that station, but I haven't decided which way would be the least dangerous.

*Also, once the operator asked me if I needed a piece of equipment. Technically, I'm supposed to use one, but I was too scared to think of that quickly enough to answer before I told her no to avoid risking a fight. This tool has been designated to be only available with specific permission due to other people not returning it (and also one of the points where she has exact knowledge of who is doing this, and it's almost always people who aren't helped any by having it, but still says she can't do anything about it), and I prefer not to go into the lion's mouth by asking for it. Fortunately, I only need the item for less than a minute, so I have often just borrowed from others. However, when I was in a particularly bad emotional state, I tried bringing my own. There have been mentions of this not being acceptable, so I've been doing this relatively covertly as well; I should probably switch back.

*I think there was something else, but I don't recall what it was at the moment, and I'm already beyond my safe stopping point. I should figure out some system for adding other things even after I've finished the entries for the days in question.