sc0urge: (Default)
I Am A: Chaotic Neutral Human Bard (2nd Level)

Ability Scores:

Chaotic Neutral A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn't strive to protect others' freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. A chaotic neutral character does not intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, he would have to be motivated either by good (and a desire to liberate others) or evil (and a desire to make those different from himself suffer). A chaotic neutral character may be unpredictable, but his behavior is not totally random. He is not as likely to jump off a bridge as to cross it. Chaotic neutral is the best alignment you can be because it represents true freedom from both society's restrictions and a do-gooder's zeal. However, chaotic neutral can be a dangerous alignment when it seeks to eliminate all authority, harmony, and order in society.

Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

Bards often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

Detailed Results:

Lawful Good ----- XXXXXXXXXXXX (12)
Neutral Good ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (17)
Lawful Neutral -- XXXXXXXXXXXXXX (14)
True Neutral ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (19)
Lawful Evil ----- XXXXX (5)
Neutral Evil ---- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Chaotic Evil ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXX (13)

Law & Chaos:
Law ----- XXX (3)
Neutral - XXXXXXXX (8)
Chaos --- XXXXXXXXXXX (11)

Good & Evil:
Good ---- XXXXXXXXX (9)
Neutral - XXXXXXXXXXX (11)
Evil ---- XX (2)

Human ---- XXXXXXXXXXXXX (13)
Dwarf ---- XXXXXXXX (8)
Elf ------ XXXXXXXXXXXX (12)
Gnome ---- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Halfling - XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Half-Elf - XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Half-Orc - (0)

Barbarian - (-6)
Bard ------ XXXXXX (6)
Cleric ---- (-4)
Druid ----- XX (2)
Fighter --- (-6)
Monk ------ (-21)
Paladin --- (-21)
Ranger ---- XXXX (4)
Rogue ----- XX (2)
Sorcerer -- XX (2)
Wizard ---- (0)

(What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?)
sc0urge: (Harmona Darcia)
I'm at the point of feeling shitty where I just don't see the point of trying to feel less shitty.
sc0urge: (Harmona Darcia)
I still have dreams where boys who
look like him
choke me and don't let go.
Sometimes dreams imitate life and
they let go when my fist hits their chest.
Sometimes I find you don't always
when you die in your sleep.
sc0urge: (choices aang)
I don't care if it's silly or childish. Writing cover letters is something I find really difficult and scary. I never know what I'm supposed to say, and really the templates available online have never been particularly helpful. I'm not applying for a desk job at a bank. I'm not applying to be the volunteer coordinator at a charitable organisation. I'm not applying for a paid internship at a research laboratory. I'm applying for minimum wage service jobs so I have something that will let me scrape by with some level of self-sufficiency. I haven't found something that explains the right way to say 'I don't think this is the worst thing I could do for ten dollars an hour and I don't think I would be the worst person at this job, so please disregard my patchy and irrelevant work experience' in words that make any of that sound like a good thing.

And then I explain that I'm not going to a job fair this morning because I noticed late last night that they wanted a resumé and cover letter, because I don't think the sort of cover letter I could write at one in the morning (or at seven in the morning) would be worth the paper on which I'd print it...

'Oh, just write one!'

'It'll take you five minutes.'

'Cover letters are easy! Just say why you want to work there!'

'Why don't you just write one?'

'Oh, well they've decided they don't want to go.'

No. I really did want to go. It seemed promising. I would probably be pretty good at a job that involves cleaning up little tubs of add-your-own condiments, making sure frozen yoghurt machines are still functioning, and pushing buttons on a touchscreen to charge people for their yoghurt tubs. Partly because a trained monkey or a sufficiently advanced Roomba could do that, and partly because hey - at least lots of cool-looking people walk through malls, and they play music that isn't the same three Christmas songs on repeat, so I'm pretty happy with that.

That's about all I've got.

But apparently writing brilliant cover letters that get the jobs rolling in like waves of a flood tide is nothing at all. Anyone could do it. No problem.

Please explain what that implies about me.


Nov. 10th, 2012 05:07 pm
sc0urge: (Default)
Today I have neither been able to motivate myself to write, nor to draw, nor to work on school work. So instead I baked a pan of muffins and a batch of cookies. Productivity! It's fun!

Oh well. I suppose I could have spent the day lying in bed...

Some words. )


Nov. 7th, 2012 04:04 pm
sc0urge: (later)
I was so reluctant to pick up my Great Pirate Novel for NaNoWriMo, but I'm so glad I did, holy crap. I was totally stuck on it, and it had been just sitting on my hard drive for five or six years now untouched. Now I've actually got some ideas and words going, and it's almost more of a relief than anything else.

I started out trying to write it chronologically, and I think that was my biggest failing - for this year, I grabbed thirty songs (which were supposed to be done song-a-day but... aren't) for thirty chapters and I'm just writing whatever thematically works with the song - for the ones that have lyrics, my challenge is to somehow include, in order, every word spread through the chapter. As a result, the first chapter is a) porn, b) probably going to be 18000 words long, at the rate I'm going through I Almost Told You That I Loved You. If it works, it works, haha. Although there is a lot more sex in this story than I'd originally expected.
sc0urge: (Default)
I really wish I could be a good student but it's just so hard. But it's not even hard for reasons I think I can adequately explain?

It's just so overwhelming and scary and I have to keep track of dates and times and people and papers and books and notes and that's without even thinking of the contents of the courses themselves.

I just want to not feel a rising swell of panic every time I open my calendar or my school website or my textbook or my notes or my student email, because I'm so sure that I've forgotten an assignment or missed a class or done the wrong reading or gone to the wrong room or... anything, really.

It doesn't even help to think that screwing up one assignment, second week of term, wouldn't be The End, because I have this crushing fear that having missed one assignment makes me a miserable failure, will turn my profs and TAs against me Forever and... well, in the past it mostly has led to me panicking, balking, and running away entirely. Skipping class. Skipping lab. Skipping tutorial. This summer I took two online courses, missed one deadline, and panicked so wildly I skipped out on two whole courses and put myself back on academic probation.

Sometimes I want to just drop out because it causes me so much anxiety, but I love learning in lectures and I need to be able to see my counselor and doctor at the school (because trusting doctors is hard and scary) and I can't even seem to find a minimum-wage, crappy-hours, no-benefits job to hire me, so I'm not sure what else I could do.
sc0urge: (Default)
Having been so leery of human contact and so quick to convince myself that I could not possibly be wanted in social situations, I now have no idea what to do when placed in the position of being wanted - especially romantically. I guess it's nice in an abstract sense to hear that there are people who think I'm attractive in some sense, in that sort of 'I have no love for me but I'll take some of yours' way, but it also feels frightening. If someone else invests feelings in me, what do I do with that?

It's so much easier to like someone and quash that because you're sure they'd never reciprocate...

This has been a 'Jack goes through middle and high school social development 2-8 years late' post, brought to you by the letter 'vanity' and the number 'just shut up already.'
sc0urge: (Default)

Hi Jas,

I have you scheduled for 4/30. I will be sending out a surgery packet in the next couple of weeks. I will let you know if I have any cancellations sooner.

Valerie Rowan
Secretary to Dr. Daniel Medalie

This is a real thing. That is really happening.
sc0urge: (Default)
There's good news and bad news.

The good news is that I have been approved for surgery and can now schedule any time I want.

The bad news is that I still only have $4500 of the six thousand for the surgical costs, not counting the extra I will need for travel, food, hotel, etc. I don't have a job, so I very much doubt that there exists a bank willing to extend a loan. Getting a job is... complicated. I am not particularly confident in my ability to handle another Real Life commitment. I also don't think it's all that likely any place of employment would take all that kindly to me requesting a week and a bit off to go traipsing off to Ohio for a medical procedure which might make me slightly ineffectual at work even after that - not to mention that I would already be requesting whole weekends off in February and April. I guess those things shouldn't really stop me applying, but it's quite difficult not to get into self-defeatism and lazy complacency. Well, discontent, but I don't think complacency and discontent are exclusive. Case in point: much of the time I have already wasted.

I like to think I am in most things a pretty patient person, but then there are some times when I am about ready to crack all my teeth champing at the bit because things just aren't fast enough, damnit! I'm just not sure if this is a reasonable thing about which to feel so impatient. Does it make sense, given I've been sitting around waiting for so long for this? Or should I just be able to sit back and chill for an amount of time that is by now miniscule in comparison to that which elapsed before it?

Jack is a whiny loser, oh yes.

Also I now have to get up and do constructive things. Woo hoo!
sc0urge: (Default)
I have a maths midterm tomorrow, and I know I say this about every test I take, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to fail. I've been looking at old exam papers, and none of it even looks like a real form of human communication. The first two questions defeat me utterly.

Then I logged on to the online assignments to see if anything was due - oh, shit, I missed two weeks of assignments without noticing. How the hell did I even do that? And as for the ones that are due next week - psh, I can't for the life of me work out what I'm supposed to be doing.

I am so hopelessly behind, and while some of that has been due to external circumstance - it's hard to reliably do online homework with a broken computer; not having the textbook makes it hard to do the written practice - a lot of that is just because I am too much of a spacey ass to be able to keep tabs on three whole courses. I just. I can't. I can make it to my two lectures in the mornings, I can scrape through my labs sort of kind of, I can go to my tutorials and pretend to sound like I know what's going on, but truthfully? I am absorbing almost none of the information that's coming at me. I can't make myself go to the open office hours. I can't discipline myself to sit down and study.

And now that I AM this mired in failure, breaking out of that is a Herculean task, and even beyond that, requires that I actually prostrate myself and admit that yes, I am that student, the bad kid who can't keep track of his courses. I am just as scared of opening myself up to disappointment/disapproval as I am of actually failing or having to drop a course.

So what do I do instead? Refuse to even look at my course materials because I've built them up into this scary confusing oh shit oh shit oh shit monster, and avoid having to face that anxiety/stress by just shutting off entirely and doing pointless shit on the internet. Okay, fine - this week has been really busy, and some of the pointless shit I'm doing is, you know, social interaction with actual human beings (I have a lot of lost ground! I mean, I'm making up for that 3-4 month stretch where I didn't leave the house voluntarily!) and going to group to deal with a fairly major, time-and-brain consuming illness, but... Those aren't fucking excuses! I should be able to just... handle my shit.

So sick of this. So sick of this.
sc0urge: (jiji)
The week ahead is shaping up to be Ridiculously Busy. That's kind of cool. The fact that my week is shaping up to be Ridiculously Busy and I have a broken computer is... not so much. I think I'm supposed to be meeting someone to watch anime and hang out drinking coffee, but, uh. They haven't returned my texts this morning. And I discovered much to my chagrin that the machines at which I need to renew my transit pass are in fact locked down on Sunday. No, really. Steel sheeting like they scroll down over shop windows at night in the bad parts of town. Why?! What possible sense does that make? I really hope the bus drivers afford me some sympathy. Or that I can hitch a ride. Ugh.

But that's just this afternoon. Tomorrow I need to find the time to nip over to the thrift stores before I go to group, and of course get my shit together for chem lab. Then of course on Tuesday there IS the chem lab... On Wednesday not only do I have class, and club meeting, and an appointment with the psych on campus, but I also have training for Fright Nights. With everything else going on I'm kind of pissing myself over having one more obligation, but seriously, having this training? A Good Thing. Roamer training. As in yes, I get to be one of the people running around being a creep outside the house. Hell yes! HELL YES!

(And of course I still don't know what the deal is with my computer, whether it will be fixed and on what sort of time frame and at what cost. So there is probably more stuff stashed away in the recesses of my calendar that will bite me in the arse at some point.)

But yeah, it would have been nice to have one evening off. Which is something I won't be getting, because I definitely need Thursday afternoon/evening (...I may skip my chem tutorial, midterms be damned) to finish my costumes for Aki Con, oh yeah, and to bake a pumpkin pie, because I felt like I didn't have enough on my plate as it was, so I decided Thanksgiving should happen at the convention. Then Friday is more schooling, and making a dash for the border with pie in tow. Then the weekend. Then midterms. Then Fright Nights. Then NaNoWrimo.

It was nice knowing you?

Though... I think keeping this kind of crazed schedule may be one of the things that can trigger a manic state in me? I wouldn't put money on it, but it's happened before, where overloading and overworking and overstressing myself just makes me feel completely electrified and fiery and go into the kind of crisis-management high that Gets Shit Done. Maybe it's not the best for me, but it feels nice and, well, Getting Shit Done... Even if it is stuff that's not exactly going toward a degree. :P But this period of time during which I am totally filled to the gills is a lot longer than I'm used to sustaining that buzz. We'll see how it goes, I guess. I mean, I'm also probably overthinking this because I didn't sleep last night and everything seems both more exciting and more complicated when faced without rest.
sc0urge: (solidor)
I'm supposed to be completing pre-lab excercises before my first Chem 281 lab session tomorrow, and doing precalculus homework, and revising biology because the midterm is - oh my days - not that far away. Of course the logical thing to do in this situation is sit here listening to Lady Gaga and writing up a blog entry. Obviously.

The second group therapy meeting was today. It's slowly feeling a little less awkward to be in this group of pretty, outwardly-heteronormative women, as I get to know them as people and not as statistics on the prevalence of a disorder across different demographics. It's not perfect - there is one girl (names of course omitted) who seems to have some trouble focusing/maintaining a train of thought. That's okay. I'm not going to start judging her brain and thought processes; she's nice, and friendly, and deeply insightful, and sensitive. Today she asked if I'd be the spokeswoman for our group, then corrected herself and said 'spokesperson'. I... don't know how I feel, exactly? I appreciate that she caught and corrected herself, and I definitely appreciate that it was not deliberate, but at the same time, I guess being in kind of an emotionally vulnerable atmosphere like that just makes everything feel wrong. Maybe it's not that - I think today has just been sort of a gloomy day. Glum. (Bluh, sorry this is so stupid - Livejournal is apparently my Tertiary Therapist blugh.)

(Also I'm really sick of using 'I' statements, but it's only going to get worse in this entry. Facepalm.)

Some days there's just this feeling in my skin and bones, or maybe in all the roots of my nerves, that just wants another human being's touch. Not in a sexy way or even a romantic way; I just... want to have an arm around my shoulder, or a hand in my hair, or a knee against mine. This is probably a very basic human thing, and totally normal, but the awareness of it is strange to me, feels like weakness even when I know it really isn't. But part of it, I know, is that I have a tendency to retreat into this space of white noise and no feeling when my emotions feel ragged, and when I'm worn down and emotionally tired and, well... loneliness comes into it, too. The feeling of skin, or of warmth, or just vaguely yielding pressure - that is so grounding. It makes it so hard to detach and get lost in the buzzing. I don't feel real, but I know that there is someone in the universe who IS, and I can just... sense that person. This is coming out way crazier than I thought it would sound. Damn.

Anyway - today, in that group session, I was feeling all staticky, and had nobody to touch, because... asking for a hug in the middle of therapy is too fucking weird and let's not even start down that kind of touchy-feely bull. No. So I doodled fanart of a character dying messily in chains. And for some reason that helped. Maybe because a fictional character is kind of like another person, and stroking the lines and shades of their body is kind of like receiving a hug. And drawing burned hands and bleeding whipmarks and a protruding arrow shaft is kind of like making an emotional connection.
All of the above sounds like kind of a stupid tangent. It kind of was. I think the point was that I was feeling kind of triggered at the start of the meeting and it just kind of carried through? I don't know. Ugh.
sc0urge: (nureru)
I keep writing up all the details, but they just end up sounding stupid. Whatever.

Cool things have happened. Yeah.
sc0urge: (jiji)
According to my father's blog of his and Kate's pilgrimage across Spain (It's awesome; go read it! He is where I get all my English-language capabilities! Kate has one too.) they recently passed through a little town called Viana. Oh, hey.

Most of the names of my characters, when not set in a specifically real-world-based locale, are collections of sounds which feel nice to say together, so by this point it should really not surprise me when I find that somebody else had the same notion a couple hundred years earlier than I did. And yet for some reason, it always does.

(At least I've yet to name anyone something outright offensive... to my knowledge.)


Sep. 5th, 2011 09:50 am
sc0urge: (Default)
Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call asking if I could take a night shift in the haunted mansion. I said I couldn't, though that was maybe a slight exaggeration of my obligation to go back to my dorm to obtain free food and participate in orientation games. I kind of think I might have been better off doing the zombie shift, actually - while the airbrush makeup isn't exactly kind to skin, it has yet to do any worse than cause a few spots here and there. The intriguing things dorm advisers can devise to promote team spirit, on the other hand...

Picture a field of slightly manky grass. This field has two rows of water bottles lined up along it, with a gutted paper shopping bag piled with cotton balls at the end. There are two teams of three victims. These three must slather their faces with Vaseline, tie a banana on a string between their legs, and then proceed to run up to a water bottle, hip-thrust it down with the banana, then faceplant into the cotton for five seconds in an attempt to collect as many cotton balls as possible before running back to the start while trying to retain all their sweet loot.

I was undoubtedly the most successful of my team at collecting cotton, but this correlated with having the most slimy face beforehand, and the most fuzzy face thereafter. Wads of toilet paper were not readily available, so I made a very intelligent and resourceful decision and just rubbed my face in the spiky, manky grass.

Stupid stupid dumb.

Toilet paper arrived shortly after, which meant I could clean all the little blades of grass off my face if not completely ablute myself of grease. Too little, too late, I would soon discover, as the vile claws of the grassy host would make their venomous fire known upon my tender, greased visage.

Even a proper washing with face soap and scrubbing the hell out of my skin with a big fuzzy towel proved utterly fruitless. And this is why I was forced to retire about four hours earlier than usual for some utterly excellent sleep (silver sandwich) because I could no longer use my eyes on the computer screen. Unfortunately, I appear to still be a slightly speckly pufferfish, but I'm sure that will eventually resolve itself.

I hope.

And now, clothes and breakfast.

ETA: Also hey, guess who's three floors below me! Hey Figwidgeon!
sc0urge: (ditto)
Because being a zombie is awesome, guys. Only three more shifts of it, though. That may be a good thing, since it's a pretty exhausting job... oh, and the part where I'm moving into my dorm on the fourth. You know, little things like that.

I've been surprisingly on top of things for the past couple of weeks, however scattered and hectic the inside of my brain has been. I mean, I've been going to work and talking to friends and flirting with baristas and going to medical appointments and taking care of the animals... and spending way more money on coffee than I can sustainably afford, but.

But back on the topic of zombies. It's weird, working this job and getting into character - as a flesh-hungry, knife-loving cannibal cook, as a playfully destructive, viciously petulant little zombie girl, and as a syrupy-sweet, Legitimate Candy Van undead aristocrat - I've been summoning up weirdly alien motives and emotions and thought patterns. Being callous or vicious or predatory... or even just assertive and loud or controlling and dominant... those aren't readily accessible character traits. It feels a little weird. Kind of weird in the way that wearing a giant hoop skirt feels weird; it's a different way of moving and of arranging my body, and it's something of which I am very acutely aware, but at the same time it kind of guides itself and starts to feel, if not natural, then... automatic? If that isn't too contradictory.

And now, having discussed my skirt-wearing habits, I shall look through this huge whack of papers I got from the trans health people.
sc0urge: (Default)
You know what's great about Homestuck fandom?

I'd known these people for like, for ten cumulative hours at a convention, and we just decided to meet up at the Night Market (two hours' transit, for those who may be counting) and I was offered a couch for the night since the buses stop running at stupid hours.

Man, I'd never crashed the night at a friend's house in high school until Gordonstoun, when doing so was not too dissimilar to living in a school with them. And even then, that only happened maybe twice in two years.

Granted, I have been uncharacteristically high this past week and a bit, so that's probably also part of it.

But most importantly: I bought a pair of pink contact lenses. My manliness gauge is FULL, bros.
sc0urge: (boxcars)

An entire mug of hot chocolate just decided to swan dive off the table, roll over my entire lap, drenching my last clean hoodie and pair of jeans, spill over my laptop cord, then crash on the floor and spew what remained of its contents across the tile... and my freaking sketchbook. (It's not even my mug; it's Kate's, so... extra points.) So now I've gone upstairs and retrieved a torn pair of trousers, eh, I can sew them up well enough to last the day. Then I go to clean up this mess, which requires not a dish towel but one of the freaking beach towels we use for the dogs, and in moving the chair to get at the spill, I knock over a china bowl, and it crashes to the tile in a glorious shatter.

And that was the last of the almond milk.




sc0urge: (Default)

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