harperkingsley: (Default)

There's a few things happening in my life at the moment.

I was given a new laptop on Tuesday and I spent the whole night and most of yesterday transferring files and arranging my personal settings. Things still aren't the way I would like them, but they're getting there.

The hardest thing is getting used to Windows 8. It had me cursing in frustration at first -- especially when I accidentally misspelled my email address during sign up and there was no way to go back and correct things. I nearly tore my hair out in a rage over that one.

Still, having a new computer is awesome and I'm happy to have it.

So for Father's Day, I'm writing my dad a science fiction thing. He's never read anything I've written, as I'm secretive as fuck, but whatever. I'm not using any of my writing names on it, so he'll be able to brag as he'd like with no worries.

(Seriously, there's dozens of things he's not down with. The kindest term is to say that he's "old fashioned" and he spent his childhood either in Kansas or in a family that would never be described as accepting of other cultures and races. There are times when he expresses views that make my eyebrows touch my hairline. Which means he would never be accepting of the things I write or basically of me.)

I'll be writing him a story that's basically sci-fi for old white guys. You'd probably not like it, though who knows.

harperkingsley: (Goth)

My aunt and uncle -- who live next door -- had their house robbed while they were at church today. My aunt called to ask if we'd seen anything, which we didn't.
Read more... )


I emailed my brother about the robbery, and he told me that he saw two people with backpacks camped in the nearby ball-field. I made the mistake of mentioning it to my dad, and all of a sudden it's the END OF THE EVER LOVING WORLD! Everybody panic!

Geez. This is a sucky situation, but he freaks out like that at least two or three times a week about various things. Not to mention the hour long lectures on shit I don't care about if I just mention something.

Me: "I think we should cut down that little sapling." Him: an hour of rambly stuff about when he was a boy in Kansas, how to kill ants, blah blah, Nazis doing experiments, oh glob everyone's going to die, blah blah.

Calm down, man. You're stressing me out.

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine"

Jul. 27th, 2014 02:02 am

Dear Diary

harperkingsley: (Yamiflower)

Things we need:

Why don't we have thought technology yet? I thought this was something we were working on.

The capability to send a thought to your phone, activating an app that's preprogrammed for all kinds of things. We have headsets that let us send thoughts to a computer screen, and those brain microchip things. Why not tie that all in with a smartphone capable of memorizing a few thought patterns for "Turn off the house lights" or "Turn on the TV"?

We have all the pieces for some truly awesome technology, and I don't know why they're not put together in an affordable, customer friendly style. There should be so many companies vying to be on the bottom floor of it. Where's Nintendo? Where's Microsoft?
Read more... )

harperkingsley: (gangster wife)
I don't know what's wrong with me.

I'm open to the world and I don't care as long as it's not illegal. I can be brave and loud on the Internet. I don't care what anyone thinks of me. Anyone except my family.

I am not open to my family. I am a closed flower and sometimes it makes me feel bad. Like there's whole conversations bubbling up and I just can't bring them outside of my own head. So I'm quiet and small, or I only show one small part of myself and hide the real me away.

And I like having that secret. That segregation of my parts. I like that out of everything they've taken from me or I've given to them, there's a whole part of me that I've kept separate from my family.

I wish that I was open and honest about all the little things though. That's my only regret. I wish I could give my smallest opinions but it's too much for me. I have secrets to keep, and I'm afraid that opening up the tiniest crack will spill all my insides out. Instead I'm relegated to passive aggressive lists and rolled eyes to show my displeasure. I hate that trying to speak my mind in real life makes me so tired.

If I could give my family a whole person to deal with, I think it would be better. But most of the best parts of me go into or come out of books, movies, and comics. There's a whole world happening in my brain, and it's given me leanings that are outside of our small family world.

I have differing political views. I write slashy fiction. I like certain shows. Everything I know has been shaped by something else, and somehow I've grown outside of my family. And because of that I can only express my views on the Internet, and that's where my inner self lives, wild and out loud.

I don't want my family to think I'm a freak. I want to avoid that speculative eye. And at the same time I don't want to disappoint. I can't stand that look that says I'll never be good enough, because it nearly kills me every time. I don't want to be judged and found, once again, wanting.

So I live a life of quiet fortitude. I am constantly battling the words that want to be said, but swallowing them gets easier and easier. I told myself that I was going to have to think small, live small, be small to survive and I worry that I'm not coiling tight, I'm fading away; shrinking down to nothing.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

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