i should just design all clothes

did you know about thumbholes?

i've owned like two hoodies.  ever.  until moving, and now i have like five.

but only a few have thumbholes.  they're like gloves, but where i just tuck in the fingers when they get cold.  and i can be sure my hoodie is wrapped around like a hug on me.

so, if i could design all the clothes:

thumbholes for all long sleeves.

pockets on fucking everything.

i probably should say "and it's all cotton," but to be fair, over the past few years, i've converted to spandex and polyester.  yes, i know i'm wrapped up in plastic like a tray of hamburger, but i like that squeeze, and i like the smoothness.

"what even is this, sammy?"

this is what you get when i drink once a week instead of constantly.

i get a lot of crazy dreams that disturb me.





i have a few story thoughts.  it's weird when your brain is clear to come up with what i did in the past.

can people comment?  if you get a "comment rejected" or "comments not allowed" message, send me an email, and i'll try to sort it out.  i have a vague idea someone did that before, but i can't find it.

ugh

so i moved.

and i know basically nobody here, so it's similar to before i moved, except there i just alienated everyone i knew.

but i thought, "oh, hey, let's try the online dating stuff again, see how that works out."

i filled in all the junk, answered a bunch of questions, and selected the "i'm not an asshole, i'm ok with most people, as long as they're not jerks."

and then looked at the first batch of matches.  #3 on the list, with a 97% match rating: my boss.

i did the totally grown up thing, and deleted my account.  why can't things just be easy?  i guess it's nice to know that i'm not the absolute only one left in the office who doesn't have any kind of family, but still.

ugh.  between this and the constant fact that i have to be afraid of fascists completely destroying the government, i kind of wish i were still crazy.

sanity is over rated

i should know.  i looked over the opposition, took my pills, and looked at what that brought me.

i'm not complaining about my sanity.  it's reassuring to not freak out about minor upsets.  it's good to not see a dead animal and need to take a day off to recuperate.  it's nice to go out in public and not feel so much like an absolute freak.

i mean, i still mumble things to myself, and count on my fingers in a way that can't be reassuring to other people.

but feeling like this.

with what i think is what people know as "normal" in my hands.

it's weird and difficult and challenging.

when you know no one else sees what you see, and know that what makes you panic might  not exist, it's easy to draw away and accept that you're in a fantasy realm.

but when you crash down to the real world, and have to deal with trash, and the leaves you tracked in on your shoes, and "laundry".

shit turns out to be real.



so, a check-in on things:

1. my favorite forum turns out to be moderated by racists, so i guess it's not my favorite anymore?
2. i feel like i should write more, but i've been getting home at like 8pm.  
1. not hating your work means you have less time for porn.
2. this feels like it should be a positive?
3. nice that the country understands useless insanity now.  would have even nicer 24 months ago, but i guess i have to live with the repercussions of anti-democratic fascist jurists being placed by corrupt fascists.
4. or, you know, walls and shakespeare and such. 
1. just a suggestion.

Rachael notes

sorry i spoiled a story that's pretty old.

The Exhibition: Rachael

The Exhibition: Rachael
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-exhibition-rachael.html