Tsu.

Disclaimer: it’s supposed to be tsu, with a little macron over the u, but too bad.

I’ve hated Facebook for a long time but I spend too much of my life there.   Most of us do.   And as time goes on, there are more & more ads, no longer confined to the sides of the interface but now even clogging up our newsfeeds.   And this is after the updated Timeline format which makes just a single post take up your entire fricking monitor so that you can no longer get an overview of what your friends are doing, but are instead forced to have only a single (or sometimes 1.5) post – super big & in your face – at a time.   And then there have been all the privacy disrespects.   Yes, I’m using a verb as a noun, & Facebook is the inspiration for this.   There’s poetry in that, but let’s talk about Tsu.

Tsu is another social platform, in its infancy.   Here’s a screenie of what the general interface looks like:

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On ending a friendship

Yeah yeah… I’m in a bad mood.   And I probably dropped a bunch of displaced anger on this guy because I’m dealing with a full-on Narcissistic Personality Disorder jerkface for a few more weeks.   But I mean it – when you end a friendship, if it ever had anything real to it, you say something to the other person.   Say goodbye, for chrissakes.   If you don’t, then you’re chickenshit.   Sorry, no other word for it. Chickenshit.

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Small light.

It’s been a rough few weeks.   Financial disasters, relational disappointments, antagonism from a coworker, social isolation, doom.   There’s not really anyone to talk to, not because of a lack of people who care, but rather a lack of people I feel like talking to.   The one person I feel might understand has gone away.   I know I’ll slowly work my way through this, but overall I’ve felt like I’m slipping back into that old depression.   I’ve spoken with my therapists; we go over practical care & solutions.   A whole bunch of things I have no motivation to go through the motions of.   I might be back to that kind of life where existence comes down to just taking one step, then taking one more.

What’s interesting is a little bit of self esteem, a little gift, that my mind keeps returning to.   I was at a fundraiser; one of those snotty $100-$200 per head dinners all the private school kids go to when they’re grown up.   There was a table of whores with their pimp, & I thought one of them was one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen in her elegantly elaborate ballgown.   My boyfriend’s best friend had brought a date; a beautiful girl who remembered me from high school.   We’d met briefly in 9th grade; she’d only been there a little while, but she recognized me & said hello.   We ended up at different tables, but later on my boyfriend told me that she had told his buddy that when we were in 9th grade, I was the only person who was nice to her, & she’d never forgotten it.

I keep thinking about that.   Makes me smile.   I don’t know what it means, after I’ve saved lives, helped dying to the door, acted with honor in spite of abuse, sacrificed for others.   The only thing I remember, to warm myself, is that.   I don’t know what it means to only remember that.   Why has that become the only thing I’ve got?

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