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On the tweeted advice of Delaney King, I tried out the video game Oxenfree (from Night School studios) on Stoic's PS4. I enjoyed it, and I wound up playing it several times through, but I did so in part because I mistook the underlying assumptions of the game design, which leads me to reflect on how this has been a life-long pattern for me.

Cover poster of Night School Studio's video game Oxenfree.

 

Overview of Oxenfree )Where I went wrong. )

I do not write any of this as a complaint–no harm=no foul, obviously. But it reminds me of other artistic interactions in my life, like the time in college I stayed up way too late watching an unevenly acted critique of the deep cynicism and sexism of professional country music that was airing on Cinemax, trying to figure out why it seemed to set up scenes like a porn film, but not have any sex. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that it was a porn film that had been thoroughly expurgated. I remember being baffled why 'skinemax' would show a movie like that, and then remove all the sex and nudity.

More recently, there was the Godzilla film with Bryan Cranston that used some music from 2001 in the trailer, getting me excited for a monster movie that was truly swinging for the filmmaking fences; alas, not so much.

Then there was my years long fixation on the early 2000s revival of Battlestar Galactica. I was completely hooked from the opening scene, and I was deeply invested in the characters and plot, trying to figure not only where the plot was going, but also the larger implications of this fictive world.  Ron Moore and his team were raising some interesting questions about what it would mean to actually confront a sapient alien species, to interact with inscrutable transcendent intelligences that nevertheless gave a shit about our grubby human lives, and maybe even share some profound insights on life and identity. The first two seasons were tightly plotted, superbly executed, and teased lots more to come; after all, as the opening credits assured us, "They have a plan."

As seasons 3 and 4 made abundantly and bitterly clear, they did not. Unlike most people, I'm still mad about it 15 years later. It seems clear that I am unusually attuned to responding to stories, and that I can find far more depth in something than anyone intended, simply by misunderstanding the creator's assumptions in making it.  All of which brings me to a new big question in my life: am I autistic?

 


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I started taking sertraline back in 2011 when I hit a serious depressive spell. I stopped last autumn quite abruptly when I ran out of pills in Andover, and didn't have any easy way to refill them. Apparently, 'cold turkey' is not the recommended way to go off mood stabilizers, as I felt really weird for about a month or two. My doctor was aghast when I told her.

Still, it was done, and I noticed some major changes: my moods were much more variable than I was accustomed to. I felt, at times, ebullient and, at others, deeply sad. All would wash over me like a wave and like a wave all would pass. My libido was more powerful and more insistent. This was all acceptable, even desirable, but I also found that I would fly into rages like I hadn't in years, and over trivial matters. I'd get frustrated with something in the kitchen at Mom's house, for example, and I'd be tossing things about, banging pot lids, and swearing up a storm. It was embarrassing for me, and upsetting for Mom. So, about two weeks ago, I started in again on the sertraline. I'm only taking 25 mg a day, but the way it has muted the emotional color in my life has been quite noticeable. Over the past week, I have been settling into a mild depression, a dysthymia, that makes it hard to take care of business–which is particularly embarrassing when I have no business but my own. Still, I'm holding my temper in the manner to which I have grown accustomed, and that's worth it.
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I know it's just my depression talking, but I still think that the fact that I can't find any company on a Friday night is a sign that I'm a failure at life. I imagine dinner and TV will help.

EDIT: in fact, they did. :)
grinninfoole: (Default)
Last week when I posted about contacting S again, and it being a major turning point in my life. Still haven't seen or heard from S again since then, but I notice two things:

1) thinking about her makes me happy, and is giving me a little spike of adrenalin I can feel behind my sternum.

2) I have been feeling BETTER since then. Depression has been dogging me for a while, and about a month ago I increased my daily dose of Sertraline by 50%, which helped, but I've still been feeling unable to do stuff like laundry or cooking. (I was seriously eating out every meal for a while.) Since seeing S, I have gone shopping, made food, changed my bed, and gotten niggling stuff done at work.

I don't know why I feel like this. It could be that I'm still deeply in love, or it might just be that I have undone a fifteen year old psychic logjam, but I have decided that I want to find out. I even have these moments where I feel like we're meant to be together, and all I have to do is let it happen.

I don't entirely trust that feeling, since I am a drama queen, but I have enough faith in my subconscious and my self-awareness to give it a try. I'm going to try something new for me, and not spend so much time and energy imagining how something would be that I don't actually do it, yet still entertaining the possibility of it, rather than assuming it's hopeless and giving up before I even try. In other words, I'm going to live in hope, but carry on with my ordinary life as best I can. If S and I are 'meant for each other', then it will work out if I just have patience. If we aren't, then it's still a great adventure for me to find out, and definitely worth the price of admission.

I'll keep you all posted, of course. My secret plan is to invite her over to dinner with me and M, and she'll have such a good time, she'll call me a lot.
grinninfoole: (Default)
A couple of weeks ago, my palm pilot stopped synchronizing properly.  Last week, I froze and lost all its data...and I wasn't able to restore from back up.  This is really bad, because without it, I can't organize my life at all.  Happily, Palm has a live chat tech support service, and even though my device dates back to 2002, the analyst Kurt was able to help me with my problem, and I didn't have to pay a dime.  So, now I'm late for a party, but I don't care, because now I have my brain back.  hurray!

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