Code switching short circuit

I went outside and bought fabric today. I am trying to move forward with my alter ego, Pixie Morningdust, a fantastical creature with they/them pronouns. We are actually the same person right now, but Pixie is a little bit less ashamed and embarrassed. Chris Harne is also an alright guy who I love and respect. They both paint their nails, and both are too lazy for routine personal maintenance. If anything, I'd give Pixie the better odds at shaving and remembering to take a shower. I don't know what Chris is much good for, but he is at least a kind person, and a "big ideas" sort of dude. He can build stuff and make long term plans, but has never quite mastered daily short term tasks.

I went to two fabric stores, and met excellent people at both. Our hearts were so warmed by Sheldon at the big fabric and sewing machine store. They didn't make us feel at all peculiar. Neither did those at the first little store. We love those who tread lightly on our emotions.

We are a green blanket with flecks of gold. It is a warm dry cloud that we breathe. We are all long sleeves next to a campfire.

How to meet people and conceal being a bird.

I took my bicycle out for a ride yesterday and that helped a lot. I don't know many people in Austin yet - hardly any - but I still wouldn't even think about being anywhere else. That is a brand new feeling. There is not anywhere else I would rather be. I find that fact incredible, and I hope it stays that way for awhile.

I am doing nothing all day. I can't make myself do anything. My room looks like a squat. Shitty little dirty folding mattress on the floor. A box of food shit; a box of clothing shit. I wake up late, walk down the street to get breakfast tacos, then lazy around until it seems like an acceptable time to drink wine.

Since I'm a little bit lonely here and don't know anybody, I turned to the apps Tinder and Bumble. The user interface is completely addictive. It's designed to suck you in, and it works. What doesn't seem to work as well is getting any sort of response. I've changed my bio several times, and I think I've written a couple real masterpieces. That doesn't change the fact that I am peculiar and difficult to decipher. I did meet up with one girl though.

I got a Tinder message late at night and responded. It was quickly noticed that we lived 0.3mi apart, so she suggested that it would be funny to start walking and meet in the middle. She probably didn't want to hear all about how I make bird noises at people. Upon reflection, I probably brought that up too soon. In my defense, my bio stated simply at the time "Silly hippie. New in town. Easy to talk to." So really she should have guessed that I was some type of bird.

Room with a bonsai.

I'm renting a room. It gets lots of sunlight. I'm in the front of the house, and I have my own entry door. I'm paying $599 with all utilities. I can ride a bicycle downtown in 10 minutes. Cool.

What the company renting this place does is get an old house, slap on some paint and appliances, and build out new walls dividing it into a thousand bedrooms. I think there are ten rooms for rent in this place. That's a lot. There's two fridges and two bathrooms. Four rooms are still empty, and I'm guessing when they get rented it's going to feel pretty high traffic around here.

When I got here to pick up the keys, the cloud of bacon was pretty thick. Same as yesterday. Dude here is cooking a lot of bacon, and I suspect that might be all he eats. I opened my door to introduce myself, and he just stood there with big headphones on, continuing to mess with bacon. He's like a bodybuilder or something. Who knows. Also, I guess nobody thought it was a priority to get a shower curtain. That gives me pause.

Here's how I'm looking at this: I have the best room in the house, and my own entry door. I'm looking at this as my own private studio apartment. There's wifi and electricity, and I have access to a bathroom and shower. Good enough. If something better comes along, cool, but for now I can work with this.

I opened up the front door and some windows. I got the ceiling fan going, and now that the bacon fog is out I'm feeling pretty good. I even put my little bonsai tree in the window. Open for business, baby, open for business!

Brightness and darkness and shrugging

I'm sitting in the library in Austin, utilizing the wifi / table / outlet combo to facilitate easier filling out of a rental application. Official documents of any type stress me out. Looking for a residence stresses me out. I am forging ahead, and paying the $50 fee for a background and credit check. I am hoping that my 2009 credit issues are explainable and that ten years ago is long enough to get a month-to-month situation in a house with individually leased rooms. Logically, it seems like I should be okay. I make money; they want money. I'm not a felon.

I found a room, and I filled out the digital paperwork. I want it. I want that room real bad. Partly, I just want to be done looking so I can focus on my next task, which is therapy and a doctor. Also, the room looks great. Lots of light, a private entrance, adequate size, stellar location. Another couple was checking out rooms in the same house, and I was seriously afraid they might show interest in the same room. They didn't, and I was relieved that I wouldn't need to fight them.

Easing my stress considerably is the fact that I love this city and everybody seems friendly and relaxed. It goes a long way. In a way, it makes all the difference. Austin has everything going for it. Let me get a place to live, and I believe I can make shit happen. This is a new chapter that I'm excited to write. I'm fighting for it. I don't know the future, but I am excited about the direction I am headed.

Holy fucking shit life is weird and then we die. The best we can do is get involved in some shit in the meantime and try to make our stay as pleasant and free of suffering as possible. Existence feels abstract and overwhelming and I vacillate between helpless panic and laughing out loud. I'm not even complaining. This is how it is, and there is no use ruminating about that which you cannot control. It is super fucking obvious why people drink. I completely understand why people kill themselves. Of course I won't be doing that, and I hope it isn't reckless just to admit that I get it. I'm probably going to be around at least twice this long. Holy fucking shit, I'm not even deleting this paragraph.

I am not struggling. Not by a long shot. I am often wondering how the fuck everybody is either pretending that everything is normal, or is somehow actually fooled into thinking it is so. This shit blows me right away. We are wild lobotomized animals, and I feel forced to also pretend that everything is completely normal, because the alternative would absolutely get me into hot water. I keep my head low and drink wine. Maybe it'll get better with age.

Living in Austin.

Phew. Sure wish I was updating this shit more often. I'm barely even keeping track of what I'm up to in a notebook these days. Mostly I want to keep track of this shit for myself to look back on when I'm old and bored and wondering what the hell I was doing throughout my life - seeing that I can't remember whether certain shit happened last week or a year ago most of the time. I don't know what's up with that. My mental timeline is way off, and I mostly just say everything happened "about ten years ago." I remember tons of detail about events, but have no real clue when they happened. I guess that's fine, 'cause it's gotta be. No other choice. This is what I've got.

I'm in Austin now. I got here on Friday. I'm trying to rent a room somewhere, which feels like an absolutely monumental task. I checked out a place Friday afternoon. It smelled funny, and it's a room in a shared house with individual month-to-month leases for each room. Seems like kind of a high-risk random roommate situation.

I checked out another place that blew my mind. I met with the roommates in this sorta co-op-ish situation with an absolutely giant and beautiful room. I thought the interview went well. Apparently not well enough, because I got an email saying that they didn't think I'd be a good fit. That felt kinda bad. I'm a fucking weirdo. I want people to like me, though. I'm pretty mentally invested in being well liked. I have to let some of that shit go, 'cause as it turns out I'm not for everybody. I think I'm cool. I think they didn't really get who I am or what I'm about. And I'm a fucking weirdo. Damnit. I feel fucking insane, and I really can't control that.

So I'm here in Austin. I have been mostly very happy to be here. I love Austin, and that's why I'm here. Trying to make a go of it and stay here for awhile. But I'm feeling anxiety about the unknown, and not doing a very good job at reducing alcohol consumption. Fuckit. I'll sort all my shit out in good time. Austin is a good spot to feel like a crazy person. Feels forgiving for that kind of thing.

I at least got a shower today. I needed one. I went to Barton Springs - a natural pool - and they didn't even charge me to enter. She just looked at me and said "you're good." Cool. Hot shower. Washed the stale beer out of my hair. That's another story I guess.