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Search - "i'm tired and emotional"
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I might not be able to move to Germany with my husband because I was born with one hand and the Army is apparently concerned it'll make me spontaneously drop dead, even though I've survived for (almost) 27 years like this.
This is why I like computers, they make more sense and don't say stupid things like that.21 -
!dev
!!misery
I'm drunk, so it's time for some faux-emotional, blunt oversharing. and lots of profanity. It won't be pretty.
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I'm miserable. I can't sleep at night. When I finally manage to, I sleep like crap. In the morning, early, I get woken up by my children screaming or pulling my hair or jumping on either the bed or me, or talking ad furore, or any number of other miserably unpleasant things that completely prevent sleep. So I'm tired every single day, which totally surprisingly makes focusing on work fucking difficult. Doubly so because the work is fucking uninteresting and the code is awful to read and difficult to understand because it's complicated and often poorly written. And extending it takes enormous mental effort I simply do not have to give. Oh! Guess what my job is?
To make matters worse, time to myself basically does not exist, ever. I wake up, I attend standup, I cook and eat breakfast, I work while fighting against endless distractions and interruptions, I cook and eat dinner, I work some more, and finally: I can go to bed and try to sleep. The next morning, I wake up and repeat this misery, ad nauseam.
Et ad nauseam? Nauseam est nunc.
It's not proper latin, but fuck you. it's good enough. and nobody speaks it anyway.
Ego sum miseriae. Is that good enough for you?
I can't find it in myself to care about anything. I've been doing whatever I can to feel a little more normal, but mostly I just feel numb. If I drink, it helps a little because I notice my misery a little less. That's a great solution right there: drink until I don't care anymore, and keep doing the same shit without even trying to make things better. Why? Because I fucking can't. I hate this house, I hate the lack of quiet, I hate this city, I hate the dust and the clutter, I hate this state, I hate this codebase, I don't like my coworkers, I hate that I can't get a fucking thing done without spending 6x longer than it should, I hate that I can't fucking think of a single thing I want to do, I hate that I can't ever enjoy anything, I hate that I'm beginning to hate myself, and I fucking hate everything else, too.
In short:
I'm not happy. I'm fucking miserable.
And no, I'm not posting this here for you to psychoanalyze me or suggest solutions. It's for me to vent. Fuck your opinions and fuck your advice and fuck you.29 -
!dev
A child's mind is fascinating.
I remember how it felt being a kid, just deliriously happy.
Things were magical, mystical and happy.
I knew the world wasn't perfect, I knew bad things happened to good people.
But a kid's mind is so powerful that it can fill in the blanks with the most cheerful and optimistic perspectives.
And at some point in my childhood I was exposed to videogames, and that kinda took me down fantasy lane even further.
I was extremely young and barely retaining any memories when I was exposed to my first console, a famicom.
I have a somewhat vivid memory of my mind being blown away for the first time by watching my brother play New Ghostbusters II for NES.
From then on, we never stopped and played several console and dos/pc games.
When I was 10, someone from the neighborhood brought in a couple of floppys with Pokemon Yellow.
"What? Pokemon? How the fuck is that even possible? This is a pc, not a gameboy".
I didn't know at the time what an emulator was, but I was super fucking stoked to be able to play that.
My dad had a 1 gb laptop from work that he didn't use, so I hoarded that shit, and I would get to bed and play nearly everyday.
The experience was surreal. I was doing pc gaming... not on a chair, on a fucking bed, and I was playing a gameboy game... on a pc.
It was so intense to me, that even after more than 2 decades of that time in my life, I still remember how it feels like.
Like, you know how you can "feel" things if you think about them? like for example if you think about the taste of chicken, you can somehow feel it for a second.
Well I have like an actual physical sensation linked to that experience but I can't explain it at all, because it's just a sensation.
I think people usually say they feel that way, for example, about the PSX (usually refered to as ps one) loading screen. I experienced that too but when I was 12, so it was not as intense (it does make me feel the fuzzies though).
I also remember other things with very high detail, like the texture of my bed cover, the weather, mom cooking, the clunky shape of the laptop, the way I carelessly stored it above a pile of magazines, etc.
I rememeber ofc how it felt looking at the game sprites, interacting with NPCs, and the goddamn fucking glorious music.
It was dreamy.
Years and years later, I grew up and I stopped living in fantasy world and became more aware of the grim aspects of life my younger self was sugarcoating.
So I tried to play pokemon again, again and again, and no matter how hard I tried to revive that euphoria, I could not never do it.
I started to get annoyed at the game.
"Come oooon, I did the tutorial already, let me skip this.
This pokemon is useless, why am I even training it.
Fuck, I'm tired of grinding"
At some point I accepted that the feeling would never return, and that it would just live in my memory.
Ironically, I can recall that memory and how it felt anytime I want to.
And I can actually still feel it, and throughtout these years, it has never wore down.
And eventually I learned how to play pokemon and enjoy it:
I read tier lists at smogon online and just catch and train the pokemons that are higher on the list, which is how i got to beat yellow in like 3 days.
(This is nothing compared to what speedrunners do, but much better than the weeks it had taken me in the past).
That served as an important lesson that when a kid plays a game, his mind is also the game at the same time, filling the blanks with its imagination.
A very similar experience happened to me with harvest moon, which is the precursor of stardew valley.
and that game is faaar more emotional: you talk to people, overtime you befriend them and they open up, you meet a girl, you marry her, have a kid
you get farm animals, you brush them, they become happy
you get attached
that game was also so powerful in me that in all naiveness I thought I wanted to be a farmer.
Eventually I grew up and hit puberty and from then on, I focused more on competitive games, like smash bros, cs and tf2.
and i dunno how to end a post so eat my fucking nuts17 -
Stupid ass nimble fucker of an old friend talks to me for a whole week after a reunion saying stuff like "I'm glad we got to spent time together bro and stuff", the soul eater of poop being sets up a conversation over a week talking like he was a true friend. He only had to manage it for a week more, hell he had to resist his urge for a puny ass week and I would've considered that maybe good people existed. Well the universe along with this Pseudo-panty fuck decided it was time, they pitch me an "idea". Well after demonstrating kindly that I could technically pull (n) such ideas from my virtual butthole. The guy finally believes his idea was stupid and moves away. A minute later. SURPRISE MOTHER FUCKER! he says, telling me that he got an amazing idea along and if I could help him with some stuff. Well.. What? I jumped at this amazing opportunity. Not because of the dangling-dickina of an idea, because this was my way out of this misery fucks life. Alright should buy me some time right? He would go watch some tutorials, make a logo and call me when there's a problem. We'll in the milli fucking time that even a big bang couldn't have recurred, the bitch calls and says.. Bro, sorry for disturbing you, I need some help... [What did your mother from another son tell you she only gave birth to half of you?]
APPARENTLY, THE GUY JOINED FORCES WITH SOME INTELLIGENT MINDS AND SETUP A LEAGUE OF LIKE MINDED NECROPHILES AND I COULD HELP THIS DREAM TEAM with a name and a logo.
It started, I could sense it. I wasn't THE CHOSEN ONE. Tired, I said I'll see what I can do while attempting to block his number. A few hours later, he calls from another number with no shame and asks BRO? DID YOU. Did me what you bloody dick lubricator. Yeah I watched your mom a couple times, then I got bored when I found out it was an ad.
Unfortunately no I did not tell that, instead I used the kindest words I could pull out of my frustrated ass to tell him I won't do it cause I have better things to do.
The guy comes back a few hours later with an emotional back-story of how this is his way out of his sad ass life and saying stuff like sorry to disturb you bro, I never meant to.
Oh my gawd! Give this douche manufacturer an Oscar. Actually give him two!!
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After this traumatic experience I often feel for such people. They have around 90 years to live. They have a free fucking brain. They have money. They have less problems.
Why can't they come up with a worthy idea with all these factors to compound the ideation process.
And why on the earth can't they make the Idea on their own. I'm completely self taught so I don't see it being a problem. I could well say that I'm more knowledgeable than a few grads out of my stupid college but I don't wanna compare myself to those stupid beings.
If you have an idea? Make it. Die for it. But never approach another being, either he eats you or you eat him.4