SNAPDRAKE

still alive, from the long gone days of myspace and neopets

  • COMPLETE

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    I struggle to finish things. It doesn’t really matter what it is. I know so many half finished stories, from books and video games. I wish I could blame the oversaturation of everything, with new things coming out every other day, but I’ve always been like this. I think about it sometimes.

    Maybe it’s because I was spoiled growing up, and could always get the next thing without having to finish the first thing.

    Maybe it’s because I was never taught how to deal with pushback, so when games got harder, I found something new. I don’t dislike hard games, mind you.

    Maybe it’s because I didn’t play any games that weren’t Pokemon games until I learned about World of Warcraft, and then I barely played anything that didn’t fall into one of those categories. The stories that did had to be about animals somehow, or I didn’t care enough.

    Maybe it’s because I have a fear of endings. If I don’t finish a story, the world continues on. I can still wonder, what ever happened to those guys, and not have the answers.
    My fear of endings isn’t exclusive to lives outside my own, either. An ending means change and it means loss and that’s terrifying. The end of a friendship, or the end of a life. The end of living in Colorado.
    I know it’s not quite the same. Life goes on, right. There’s not really such a thing as an ending. Lots of small ones, but… life goes on. In a game, or a book, there will always be an ending. I just have some level of control of when this one happens.

    I think it’s the pushback one.

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  • I SHOULD TOUCH GRASS

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    I don’t really have any pressing thoughts right now, and haven’t done much of anything. I don’t have anything to post about, but I think it’s important I try to keep this habit anyways.

    Let’s see… I’ve been feeling a little distant from people lately. It really started when my computer was out of commission for a month or so. I have to ground myself in remembering the people I talk to are real people that really care about me.

    Maybe actual human contact outside the house would do me some good.

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  • ON FURSONAS

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    I’ve been a furry my entire life, y’know. When i was a kid, all I wanted was games about animals, books about animals, stories about animals. I wanted to play The Dog at daycare when all the other kids were deciding which family member to be while playing house.

    When I was 13 or so, I stumbled on the furry fandom through Furcadia, which led me to Second Life, which led me to… well, who I am now. I’ve known a lot of people, heard a lot of opinions, and learned to love myself a little more through it all.

    Now… On fursonas.

    I saw a post a few years back on probably twitter, and it’s stuck with me. I think about it a lot. Someone was asking, if your fursona isn’t literally just you but as an animal, is it actually a fursona?

    I feel like that’s a very New school of thought, and one I do not want to see spread. I feel like the ability to be creative and imaginative is fading and needs to be held onto and fought for.

    Of course, “literally just you but as an animal” is a kind of fursona you can go with. My dog is more or less just that. It can be a very personal way to look at yourself.

    Sometimes, though? That’s too vulnerable for people and they want their fursona to be themselves but more. Something different and more in line with who they want you to see.

    Sometimes, it’s not about vulnerability. Sometimes it’s about the storytelling and the passion and the fun of it. A fursona can be a futuristic space traveling bird or a chipmunk that’s a werewolf or an interdimensional dragon.

    At the end of the day, the person you become friends with is the real person behind the fursona. Does it really matter how they choose to present themselves to the world outside that?

    If you’re gonna be a furry, have fun with it. Don’t play within arbitrary rules. Be creative. Be passionate. Have fun. Be weird.

    That’s it. Not so much a journal entry as thoughts, but. That’s fine, too, I think.

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  • H3llo World!

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    Time for a website… time for a gallery. Time for a journal? Time for something new, regardless. Blogging can be good for people, I think. I try to not talk about my personal thoughts much. Socially is terrifying, and privately is exhausting after the fourth or fifth or sixth time. But this is something in between, isn’t it. It isn’t a conversation I’m having, and it isn’t private, either.

    I’ve always struggled with journaling. I never knew what to write. What am I supposed to write? I can follow prompts and answer questions just fine, but I’m not good at deciding on things for myself on my own. Am I supposed to talk about what I’ve been doing? Nothing, usually. I’m just waiting to be told what to do next. That’s no one’s fault but my own, mind you. Not anymore, at least.

    No one is stopping me from doing things. If anything, I have all the support a person could need. My wife is wonderful and she’s patient. We’ve been goin’ at this Together thing for a decade already, and she’s still here. She still loves me… I love her too, more than I know how to show her, and even that sucks.

    Anyways. I’m an artist, and I’ve never really brought in much money, so I’ve had to lean on her a lot, and she’s never pushed or forced or gotten angry with me.

    My partner is happy to encourage me in anything and everything I want to do. They know I can, whatever it is. I believe in myself a little more too, I think. If nothing else, they’ve given me that.

    I love the two of them so much.

    …

    What was I talking about? Oh, right, journaling.

    I don’t have people demanding I do things. I just… need to be told what to do. Growing up, I was encouraged to push my feelings down and just accept what I’m told to think. It wasn’t done in a demanding way, exactly. My mom weaponized guilt against me instead. Disagreeing made me ungrateful and selfish. Asking for things we couldn’t share was pointless. Eating on my own always turned into making a meal for both of us. Most of my clothes were hers, too. The first thing she said when she got me a laptop, was that she had chosen the design of the top of it because she liked it, and would be happy to take it if I didn’t. It was one of the Dell laptops with the really fancy artsy tops. Does anyone remember those?

    Um. I keep getting sidetracked, sorry. I think this is the most successfully I’ve ever written a journal entry though. It’s supposed to be just, thoughts, right? It didn’t devolve into me attacking myself. That’s good.

    I think that’s enough.

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