Right now, I can't even begin to describe my emotional state. I'm somewhere between wanting to beat someone into a coma, wanting to beat myself into a coma, and simply curling up into a ball and crying myself to sleep. In addition to all the crap that happened with work today (which I'm not reposting here), I had plenty of stuff come up on the side, as if the fates themselves decided to see just how much crap I can tolerate before snap.
For one, there's the trouble I've been having with Yiffstar. I have to jump through an ever-increasingly absurd series of flaming hoops just to get a story approved on there, and even then it ends up tagged in such a way that very few people are going to read it. Someone else I know is auto-approved and the stuff he's writes in an afternoon ends up in the weekly most popular listing. Meanwhile, I put a ton of work into my stuff and can't even make the daily top 20 on a day where only 25 stories were posted. A 4.5/5 rating sounds good until you realize that it's from only two votes. I'm trying to post a quickie I wrote one afternoon to the site, though it'll probably take two days before it even gets approved, and since anything involving a herm suddenly has to be tagged as "other" (unless, of course, the reviewers like you), nobody's going to read it.
For another, I've been having a steadily growing list of health concerns. I've actually hurt myself from pawing off too much (I'll spare everyone details). I have a cut on my hand that's refused to heal for more than a month. I feel like I've been fighting a cold since MFF and, on at least three occasions in the last two weeks, I've gotten ten or more hours of sleep to try and fight it off. If I get less than eight hours rest, I feel like complete crap; tonight, I know I can only get about four. The only reason I'm even considering that is the ability to catch up on sleep tomorrow, if needed, and the necessary changes to my sleep pattern to accommodate work.
Third, it seems like I'm having a hard time finding people to do anything with. I did get to meet someone while in Massachusetts the other night, but otherwise I've not seen anyone since coming back out on the road after Christmas. Getting together with the local furs back home isn't much of an option, either: it's practically impossible to get anyone to even respond to the messages I send to our local e-mail group. I've offered free food and transportation, for fuck's sake, and I've actually had people say NO to that because they felt like just sitting in front of the computer as they do every night. More often, though, Yomi's the only one who replies; like me, it seems like he just wants some excuse to go out and do something. I imagine that, when I head home for a break in early February, I'm just going to spend a lot of time lazing around a hotel room.
Finally, on a group I'm in, there are people actually trying to defend a rapist. One person is arguing that, because the two people involved have had consensual sex in the past, it can't possibly be rape. Another - and the one who started the discussion - is someone who really should just be keeping his jaws shut, as he's lucky I didn't press charges for something he did. Not going to name names, as I know he'll know I'm talking about him if he happens across this blog, but yes, you, oh anonymous one, are a rapist yourself.
Need a reminder of what happened that Monday morning? Rolling me over without warning and ramming your dick in without lube, even after I've told you that I can't take you when you're being gentle, is rape. And the sick part is that, as I'm lying there and whimpering in pain, you start fucking someone else as if it doesn't matter that I'm bleeding internally. I didn't press charges because I didn't feel like ruining your life over what I presumed at the time was an isolated incident, but since then, I've found out that you've pulled similar shit with other people in the past and your abusive, carelessly dominant sexual attitude has led to situations that, while not illegal, are completely inexcusable. One of these days, you're going to either get someone pregnant or actually get charged with sexual assault by someone who either knows about your past or doesn't care about your future. When that happens, I'll be glad to testify for the prosecution.
Also, I really don't give a damn about whatever drama posting the above paragraph causes. I needed to get that out there. So flame on; I've got a jumbo size bag of marshmallows handy and a craving for s'mores.
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