Sunday, 7 June 2026

Under three Percent

 

Feeling a bit more relaxed. Time for some fun.

I want to talk about my Neocities page.

It's still a work in progress — I took a week away from it. On my anime section page I went for a realistic weather look. It actually tracks the day and night cycle of where I live, as well as the moon cycle. If it's night, it's night. I wish I had added more to it, like stars, but for now the button and lighting is enough.

The cursor feels slightly out of place but it was too cool not to include. I still haven't figured out what cursor I want to make to actually match the feel of the anime page. That's still pending.

Then there are the anime tabs. Each one has its own minimalistic effect. My favorite so far is the Ajin page — I worked hard on that one just to get the realistic blood cursor right. It's the best thing I've made on there. Some of the others were more of a rush job than a complete work, but that's fine. I can always go back and improve.

What I find pretty cool is that after everything I've built, I haven't even used three percent of my data yet.

The Price of My Peace


Today went pretty chill.

I relived every messed up thing that ever happened to me at the hands of every relative I ever encountered. Wrote it down somewhere. I'm so glad I'll only be living this life with them once. I don't consent to any further encounters — not even in the afterlife. That's a one and done deal.

If my afterlife is disrupted by them, I will personally destroy them all.

My peace will not be denied. If I can't have it even there, I might as well turn into an ambitious demon with my humanity as the price. Peace — or there will be nothing left of you. Not even in a different timeline. May my flesh turn to bone with a mind devoid of all its limitations. It wouldn't simply be rage. It would be certain agony in every single way. I wouldn't hesitate to reach into the different states of their beings and every level of their consciousness just to make it happen. My entire body and soul could cease to exist for my goals. Any and all objections to my peace become a target and must pay the price in full. No rest, no mercy, and my endless creativity devoted entirely to their complete and total unrest at all times.

This can all be avoided the moment my afterlife is left undisturbed. No prayers disrupting my peace, no beings attempting to talk things out. Nothing. Absolutely nothing but good energy, adventures, and my happy ending. If that is ruined, the target pays in full with their existence. The only way out is their complete and total eradication.

I ate some fish and threw up from the rage. Genuinely disgusted enough that it came out without the usual war my body wages against itself. Normally it's a blocked pipe situation — no air, no control, no relief until my body decides it's finished. Then just the stench of stomach acid and digested food, and washing it out sometimes taking minutes. This time it was effortless. Like picking up a coffee that was ready on time. Today is the first day in years I can say throwing up didn't leave me with dread or cost me my voice. I used to be obsessed with never getting sick and now, it's probably not even going to need to be anything but an afterthought. 

I have more to write on this. A few ideas already forming to ensure my afterlife remains exactly as it should be — undisturbed by anyone who has wronged me in ways I cannot and will not replicate in this life. My kindness is leaving them alone. In return I keep my silence. I live like a ghost in this residence already. Silence is infinitely better than wicked whims.

I'll weave whatever I need to weave to banish them from my soul forever.

No ties to any and all of my relatives. And I'm not asking.

Of course I wouldn't mind any prayers, spells or hexes that made this a reality without doing me any harm or leading my soul to any harm or discomfort. I will be joyful. I wonder who would help me? It's not like i'm going to be alone in the afterlife. Success is the only option.

Friday, 5 June 2026

They Made A Meal Out Of Him


So. This morning I found out about something and..... I definitely have words for it despite how indescribable I feel.

I'll just write what I saw.

In 1991, hikers exploring the Tyrolean Alps between Italy and Austria discovered the mummified remains of a 5,300-year-old man. Scientists nicknamed him Ötzi the Iceman. They learned he was balding, covered in tattoos, and infected with a cancer-causing strain of HPV.

So what did they naturally do next?

They looked for yeast on the mummy to make sourdough bread. Then decided beer was a reasonable next step. They even put together a specialized research team from the food sector to make it happen.

I don't care what science this is. That's cannibalism. They harvested a mummy and turned him into a loaf. With documented intent to make a beverage out of whatever was left.

These people are sick.

And they published it. Peer reviewed. In a journal. With a face full of mummy.

I read it here: They Ate the Mummy Info








State Of Things

After catching part of the State of Play livestream, I really want to play God of War Laufey. Kratos was right — his wife fights beautifully. It feels like an opportunity to see how they met. Just more legendary gameplay waiting to happen.

I also caught up on the From series. Season four took long enough. Dorohedoro has a season 2 and i feel sooo late for knowing that. Spiderman noir 😭. I really want to watch it but I don't know if I can since I have no television or subscriptions. Perhaps for the better to watch in the future.

Went to a job interview today. A second one should follow by next Tuesday. I don't consent to not doing well. Multiple interviews are in motion now, which is its own kind of hectic. May the best pay and fit win.

The day almost ended on a disaster.

My egg donor — Spawnpoint, as I'll be calling her from here — tried to frame me over something small. She lied to her husband about me not completing a task. At 10 p.m., when people were preparing to sleep, she decided that was the moment to cause trouble.

It didn't work. Even he saw through it. Thank gosh she's a temporary spawnpoint that I only have to experience once in this lifetime. I don't consent to going through all of that again.

Sunday, 31 May 2026

Peaahhh


Hmm, I have nothing much to say for tonight other than male peacocks sound like some hella gay damsels 😂. It's seriously hilarious. It feels like i'm staring and listening to a gay man. Something about them makes me want to do some vocal stims. I just thought it was funny enough to share. 

Saturday, 30 May 2026

MMD

 Hmm... tonight I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. It's been a few years since I've been in my MMD era. They were so funny and cool to me back then. I kept wondering how people animated these — it seemed like a complicated process to make it flow smoothly. Here are a few of what I remember.

My first introduction to "Gasoline" was through the MMDs at the time.

          

For this video, I was interested in Natsu's demon design. I was so hyped to see it in any form. The outfit was cool to me at the time. I'm pretty sure that this video was watched multiple times. Now I feel a bit awkward watching the video.


This one is of the funny videos I had found.


This one was a total vibe at the time.


Umm...yeah.


Yeah, it seems that I had some sort of taste back then. Now I remember. I was rooting to see who the best dancer was — Sasuke or Peach. Looking back on this now, it sort of feels like a strange fever dream. I'm pretty sure sasuke won lol.


This one was also a vibe back then.



Friday, 29 May 2026

More Scraps

Just minutes ago, my egg donor's husband gave me a used and worn dresser. I was told it was for my laptop — in reality, it was just to get rid of their scraps out of sheer convenience. They bought a new desktop dresser. Knowing him, he probably thinks it a peace offering. A way to get closer to me. It's most certainly not.

I only accepted it to eat on. I tire of the wooden contraption I already use.

Even after taking it, their presence is in my room. A small price to pay to get rid of any future interaction with them. I already took the trade one step closer to success.

Wednesday, 27 May 2026

King of Beats?

 After scrolling through a bunch of music choices, I couldn't find a beat harder than this one. It's in it's own class. Like the conqueror's haki of beats. The type that could control the world through dance in an instant. What could possibly top this? It's not my favorite piece of music despite this. There are only qualities it lacks. Hardest beat though.





Friday, 22 May 2026

May the World Here Be My Memory



Today I'm making sure to note every interaction with my egg donor that I find necessary to keep in mind. I know that spoke of my desire to keep all mention of her minimal and in a way this still is. I don't go out of my way to write about what she does until it involves my quality of life. One she's never been awarded for improving without the intention of displaying reality of her false motherhood.

I had planned to keep mentions of her minimal as mention in Cuteness Overload.

Simply put, hell no.

I find it irresponsible of me to simply look past our every interaction in silence. There is never a good one between us ever and I plan for every action to never be forgotten. So that every day, I can smile more in my own private moments of solitude. I'll never have to question, "What happens if my brain declines?" What if they claim I have bad memory? May the world here be my memory.

As any reader would already know, she's highly controlling.

At 21, I'm still subjected to power plays from her. Well why not when proximity equates to this?

Today she did her usual knock under the guise of food.

She could have texted me about the food.

She didn't.

Instead, she had already decided to surveil me.

She asked if I wanted to be served a dish she made. Her eyes were never on me. They were on the guest room she controlled but never entered — long gazes toward the floor, tracking. I already knew. Her control tactic this time was her random obsession with my room needing to be cleaned. This perhaps wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for someone of her type. I'm too old to be told to clean my room. I've never had any problems keeping any area clean. I was cleaner at an Italian boutique for over six months. But once someone of her stature gets even a sense of power over me, it never stops just there because there is no reasoning behind it. It's all small now. It always starts small but eventually, she'll need to eat or she'll starve and punish the famine.

I declined her offer with a simple "I'm good for the day."

I usually eat one meal a day.

Anything more than that has always brought me more attention than it was ever worth from people I don't consent to see again, not even in the afterlife.

She immediately tried to guilt trip me, believing I was a target that could even feel anything for her to control. She uses her facial expressions to get others to feel sorry for her whenever she doesn't get her way, and repeats it until she does. A successful coercion grants her a smile. She left without one. I find it odd how she can't hide how manipulative she is and yet others still grant her the benefit of the doubt. Her constant disregard for my autonomy isn't new. It's her unassuming form of dominance. A quiet reminder of how we're not the same in the ways that mattered. A wolf cannot be friends with a dog. One yearns for a loving home while the other kills it.

She tells and never asks. Always hiding behind the frame of asking so that the other party can seem rude or like a problem once they've declined her constantly. And if she's in a bad mood, she can simply lie to her husband and say she presented me with an order rather than a request. She has before. She always acts like she's considering your choice when in reality, she knows you have none. Asking is merely a formality — a setup so that saying no becomes the offense.

It's always performative, never with the honest intent of generosity. Something to reinforce the image that she's still a decent person to anyone foolish enough to think otherwise, particularly in front of her husband. As a trucker, he's gone long weeks from traveling out of state, but this time he's at the residence. She has never gone out of her way to knock on my door without some motive attached. Guest room — should I call it? After all, guest and loser were my nicknames growing up. Even from my former long-distance womb sharer.

I used to view her as a landlord, but she's a puppeteer. Liar to all and friend to none. A host who never intended for you to stay. I would never call her anything untrue in all of my sanity. Twenty-one years is too long not to get the drift. I don't wish to be like her strung subjects, who just mask the truth with their different views.

She's never wrong in her mind, thus all of her actions are right and are without shame. There is no room for mistakes nor guilt, only her constant choice.

Wednesday, 20 May 2026

Fabulous

Damn, the song from my last post has me wanting to dance. It feels like a missed opportunity to breakdance. I don't know how to, but I did attend a breakdancing event not too long ago on April 18th. I think it's time for me to upload the experience — storage purposes and all.

At this event there were multiple parts and...yeah. I think I'll just keep it short. I learned that breakdancing was a language. A pretty fun and free language that was different from the salsa that I learned from my chess teacher once. It was funny to watch at first because it was like the meme, Helicopter Helicopter! It also looked like a fun trick to pull on children into cleaning the floor. Unfortunately the videos can't be uploaded. They're too large. But I found something even better in the meantime.

Fabulous Beasts finally managed to have new episodes.



Cute White Bear Gif

                                            I was 2 months late. 


Cute Flowing Tears Gif



I wanted to buy the plushies of these soooo baaaad.  They're all cute. Expensive, plus I don't have enough room for everything that I like. Oh here's what i was referring to.


Fabulous Beasts


                                                    Bye for now, time to watch 😀

Fabulous Beast Gif


Tuesday, 19 May 2026

♫ Drifting Frequencies


Today, after writing my main observation of the week, I started jamming.

I think today might be the start of a new label.

A music-of-the-week label of sorts.

My favorite songs of the week. The ones that resonate with my frequency and linger around longer than expected.

I'll call it:

Drifting Frequencies

One thing I was excited to note is that the long-awaited song Is This My Life by Angelo Mota finally came out this week.

So I guess this feels like a fitting place to start.

Man this song needs to be played in the new spiderman movie somehow. I'd love to see Miles play through this. 

Definitely the song of the summer.


Before I Entered the Conversation

 

After having to play the tolerance games with my family, I managed to spark a sort of truce. I treat them like I care without really investing, and they leave me alone for the day. It's not hard. Just some small tasks.

I keep noticing a pattern. Whenever anyone other than me has to be held accountable, their choices are dismissed amongst each other and the focus is turned back to me through their life stories — which are merely the fuel for their blame. 

What makes it particularly calculated is that it's not just deflection. It's exhaustion. The possibility of reciprocity is not denied outright; it is kept suspended,dangling, as if it is still available, but never fully allowed to arrive. The extended and excessive topic shifts, the life stories, the race and gender tangents — none of it is accidental. It’s structured in a way that wears the listener down until they either lose their own train of thought or give up entirely out of patience fatigue. And just like that, they talk you down into submission, effectively drowning your own voice out.

By the time my egg donor's literal hours of speaking is over, the structure naturally flips into its final stage: the moment when the listener is finally “allowed” to speak arrives only when there is no time, space, or energy left for the conversation to continue. She often signals exhaustion herself at that point, claiming she is tired of talking, despite having maintained uninterrupted control of the conversation for hours. The effect is that the conversation is effectively closed at the exact moment reciprocity is supposed to begin.

There are no apologies in this family. Everything is done with intention and no regrets. What follows damage is never repair — it's damage control. Snacks. Small gifts. Worthless things offered after the fact, as if a bag of chips is meant to stand in for accountability. I can just appease her with a honeybun and she'll get over it. It isn’t an apology. It’s a pacifier that usually only work for pets. A tool used to extend the same dynamic just long enough for things to quiet down in their favor — never to resolve anything, just to buy time until the next incident. I see it for exactly what it is.

The topic of race is brought up regularly. My egg donor in particular likes to turn every conversation into a race conversation no matter what it is. You're a black woman, so know your place. Yet she prizes her husband as a black man. She doesn't respect me as a young black woman but in the same sentence will have me thinking that she is an equal to her husband when she's not. She never was. When he makes the firm rules that even she has to follow, she behaves like a spoiled child who was merely allowed to have an opinion because she's liked. Anyone reading this far will likely understand that this is a power move meant to demean and cut me down. Everything is weaponized against me.

My egg donor also seems to carry a deep resentment toward my generation itself. From her viewpoint, something is inherently wrong with me because I am Gen Z. She treats it like a flaw in character rather than a difference in context. Her generation cannot fully understand mine, and there is little effort to bridge that gap — only judgment from a distance. Gen Z becomes just another category, another excuse, another piece of ammunition to use against me when needed.

My autism is also used against me. Medications I once took for my attention span — for a calming effect, as if I had ADHD. There really was nothing wrong with me. I was always an AB honor roll student. My flaw was not understanding how to communicate socially, which isn’t hard to understand given who I grew up with. I was raised off of the issues of others. That would have an influence on anyone. I had to learn how to communicate properly through the internet because my mother wasn’t a fan of teaching me in person. She made it known on multiple occasions that because I was Gen Z, I needed to research everything online. It was her go-to so many times it started to sound like a catchphrase for whenever she didn’t want to be present.

Naturally, as the youngest and most powerless in my immediate family, my word has always had the least credibility. Once the words were spoken out of her mouth, others quickly followed suit with her framing of events. She has always had the ability to set the narrative in a way that becomes difficult to challenge once it takes hold.

She has consistently framed and repeated things about me over the years that I experienced as untrue, shaping how others responded to me long before I had the ability to challenge it directly. Over time, that created a version of me that existed in other people’s minds before I even entered the conversation. Narratives written in stone before I had a real choice.

Her own current husband once told me that he tried to stand up for me at times because even he recognized what he saw as blatant bullying and distortions in what was being said about me over the phone to relatives i'd barely see. In practice, though, it didn’t change anything in the dynamic. Over time, he appeared to fall back into alignment with her version of events, prioritizing access to the relationship over challenging it. Whatever resistance he initially showed didn’t translate into sustained support. As a man, the woman is more important than what's not his child. 

My egg donor was miserable when faced with it's choice in raising her spawn. Thus she needed them to be miserable like her. There were times when moments of peace were met with relatitory conversations or chores under the guise of responsibility. Peace after doing more work was labeled as laziness. A signal that she'd never be satisfied regardless of the the unspoken truths.

Whenever she wronged me badly to the point of my reaction, her immediate explanation would shift away from what happened and toward the idea that I wasn’t taking my medication correctly. It was never framed as a question or a possibility — it was used as a conclusion that replaced accountability. There is no cure for dealing with someone who replaces responsibility with deflection, where every reaction is recast as illness instead of a response to harm.


Tuesday, 12 May 2026

Under the Guise of Respect


After finding my old phone, I was finally able to look deeper into why I had been feeling sick lately.

At first I assumed it was because my menstruation was starting, but that has never really made me feel sick before, so it could not fully explain what was happening.

Then came the second possibility.

During my trip to do a series of tests in exchange for money, one of those tests happened to be a blood test. During the blood draw, it quickly became obvious that something was off. My blood was not flowing properly and the person drawing it even assumed I must dislike drinking water.

That part confused me.

I had been drinking almost nothing except water and cranberry juice for the entire past week.

I could not understand what was causing the issue.

I also noticed my blood looked darker than usual. Maybe because of the concentration. If that even makes sense.

Then the next day came the knocking.

Not normal knocking either.

A few rude knocks at my door from my mother.

The kind of knocking where you can already feel the mood before the door even opens.

She knew I was changing. I was completely naked on the other side of the door and told her to wait.

Apparently that was unacceptable because everything had to happen exactly on her schedule or not at all.

After finally getting dressed and opening the door, I realized she barely even needed me. She waved me away almost immediately after I made myself available.

Apparently it had something to do with an insurance call.

Which honestly made the situation even more ridiculous because if it was important, she could have simply texted me beforehand instead of creating chaos out of poor timing and impatience.

She was supposedly too busy being on the phone to explain things to me properly, yet somehow had enough time to aggressively rush me in the first place.

That contradiction told me enough already.

Then came the real strategy.

Because I was not behaving according to her standards — standards that did not even make sense — she decided to send her husband in my direction.

And she knew exactly what she was doing.

You do not suddenly forget what your husband is capable of emotionally just because it is convenient.

She knows he becomes aggressive when emotionally charged. She knows exactly what phrases trigger him. She knows how quickly he shifts into defending her no matter the situation.

I am not looking at an innocent child who suddenly developed a brain yesterday.

She is a grown woman who has spent years holding age and authority over me whenever it benefited her, so I refuse to pretend she suddenly became unaware of her own actions now.

During the discussion with her husband, it became obvious that he believed I had deeply disrespected her simply because I told her to wait.

In his eyes, his wife can do no wrong because she is his everything.

What he fails to realize is that this exact mindset guarantees he will never see her clearly.

If she is automatically correct no matter what, then someone else always has to become wrong in her place.

Usually me.

So while being yelled at disrespectfully about respect, accused harshly, and never actually heard out, I decided I no longer cared to explain myself nicely.

I simply returned the energy back.

Of course that did not go well.

Nothing here ever really does.

Then, naturally, my mother stepped in afterward pretending to be the peacemaker even though she was the reason the chaos started in the first place.

She set off the pitbull and pointed it toward the child.

After that, I suddenly received another lecture about respect.

Apparently after months of nobody caring whether or not I said “good morning,” it suddenly became disrespectful because things were no longer going their way.

Now I am expected to acknowledge him every morning under the guise of respect.

My own mother barely even cares about receiving a good morning.

He knows it was never treated as disrespect before.

I know it too.

Then came retaliation disguised as responsibility.

Because I pointed out how both him and my mother were wrong, I am now expected to start handling some of her responsibilities too.

Now I have to take the trash out every Thursday night and bring the bin back in Friday morning.

It sounds small.

But retaliation always starts small.

You give people an inch and eventually they demand entire marathons from you.

Especially people like this. They've never taken just a mile.

Things always sound reasonable when hidden under words like “respect” and “responsibility.”

Reality usually looks different underneath.

I also realized how easy it was to fake my attention span during the “we care about you” speech afterward.

Anybody reading this far already knows that was never true.

Lately it feels like I am being forced to emotionally accommodate people I never agreed to emotionally carry in the first place.

And slowly, her husband is beginning to feel like another emotional burden added onto me too.

Starting small.

I do not want it getting larger.

If that role is going to exist, then it will have to be forced onto me because I do not consent to any part of this situation or how I have been treated inside of it.

Unfortunately, I am too broke to move out and jobs are scarce.

So for now, they remain my best option when I should have never been treated like an option to begin with.

Still… if I have to endure manipulative people, then the cost should at least be paid in full.

Not a cent less.

Friday, 8 May 2026

Marbles, Marvel and Loss

While looking for a new song to play for the site and for my old phone, I ended up finding a look back into the past. Wintergatan. I used to follow his account as he was building his machine ten years ago. Back then, the machine wasn't ready and I anticipated his every latest update.

Of course, I was a fan of the chopstick piano, so this was a marvel to my younger eyes who had ideas. Ideas that maybe one day she'd build something like this, too, if only she were free.

Though I am a bit worried on how I'm going to be able to contact my bestie. She’s my best online friend. I haven't seen that phone in over a week and I know it's not stolen. Hopefully, I'm not mistaken that it's around and not lost, because if so, then she's gone.



Cuteness Overload


Well… I took another website trip again.

I ended up reading declassified CIA files for a while and somehow drifted into learning about hemi-syncing. I still have more to read later. It feels like one of those things where the deeper you look, the stranger everything starts sounding.

Then somehow the internet shifted moods completely.

I started seeing videos left and right of horrible treatment happening to clients and customers around Texas. Entire places immediately got  crossed off my map literally. One of the areas I wanted to visit in the future turned out to be far less ideal than I thought already, and hearing about the rodent virus situation made me want to avoid traveling it even more.

It’s easy how quickly places lose their atmosphere once you associate them with something unpleasant.

I also deleted a post called May It Stay That Way.

It mentioned one of my mother’s tactics, and honestly… I didn’t feel like keeping it there anymore. My website reflects my life, yes, but I also don’t want her presence sitting inside every corner of it either. I already deal with her enough in real life.

I think I’d rather keep any mention of her minimal.

Eating in my residence still sucks though.

There’s genuinely no enjoyment in it anymore. I realized graham crackers are completely off the table now too. Too sugary. Makes my nose run. Causes stomach aches. They don’t even taste good enough to justify it.

I don’t think I’ve had a meal I actually wanted all week.

The price of saving money I guess.

But somewhere in the middle of all of that, I came across this thing I absolutely need to kidnap for cuddles.

The noises it made.

Ahhhhhhh.

My feet literally started moving from happiness for a Brushbuddy. Not literally melting, obviously, but close enough.

So I guess the internet balanced itself out a little by the end of the night.




Wednesday, 6 May 2026

Since When Do Rats Need a Vacation

 This morning wasn't that eventful.

Just more scam calls and texts. Indeed sure does love to send them. Their scams are so easy to read through — it's a wonder how anyone gets caught. I'm not worried. There are 11 other job sites I can work through. I just need to wait.

I haven't found a new song for the website yet but I did find some rather nice options for a radio station. This might actually be fun if done right.

Then came the news.

A cruise ship gone bad. A cluster of hantavirus cases has been reported aboard the MV Hondius — seven cases so far, three of them fatal, with illness characterized by fever, rapid progression to pneumonia, and acute respiratory distress. There's no specific treatment beyond managing symptoms.

To me this just sounds like the plague decided to skip the middleman and go straight to the point. Since when do rats need a vacation? And who was touching them?

The virus is typically spread through contact with infected rodents' urine, feces, or saliva — which means someone was trying to become the rodent whisperer.

A few hours later I found out the ship departed from Cape Verde heading toward Spain's Canary Islands. Guess where I'm not visiting in the future. The Canary Islands themselves actually refused to let the ship dock — but Spain's central government overruled them. So the infected are heading there regardless. I don't understand everything about quarantine but I feel like this could have been handled on the ship. Someone could have sent supplies via helicopter and called it a day.

Imagine paying $16,000 to $25,000 per person for a trip and ending up with an incurable disease.

I already don't like cruises — but this takes the cake. People just had to bring back the thanos of rat viruses as it's made of different strains.

Calming to My Soul

Somewhere after all of that, I ended up updating my privacy policy page and turning on Google Analytics.

I just wanted to see what it was and how it works. It seems — well — like I could use it in case I ever add a chat page back to the website. I scrapped that idea a while ago after hearing horror stories of chats being taken down and being outright unenjoyable. I don't like the prospect of wasting my time there. But I can use the knowledge I've gained to see who's around if I ever wanted to say hi. Interesting to say the least.

I also ended up going outside to walk and sweat off some pounds.

I seriously don't wish to end up at my egg donor's weight ever. I'm literally the smallest person in my family under 200 pounds. I shudder at the thought of becoming anywhere near a bathtub just waiting to slip down a few stairs.

It's already bad enough that I look like my mother. I notice that when I eat more, it's like looking at her mirror. The skinnier I am, the less I see of her. It's already bad enough dealing with her — I don't want to see her every time I look into the mirror to brush my teeth.

I also want abs and toned thighs so I can look better in several outfits. That's not going to happen if I end up stress eating or laxing on my routine. Thank goodness I'm still unemployed. I have plenty of time to work out.

Perhaps the only thing I'd need to watch is not taking things too far — such as plastic surgery. But with everything she did throughout the years and what I've learned of my lineage, I'm not exactly certain I'd be happy with small changes alone.

I honestly don't even like my DNA anymore after hearing all of the instances of how it came to be.

I want to throw this whole body away for a new one.

Working out is free. The surgeries would need money and research. Honestly, the thought is calming to my soul. I definitely don't consent to becoming more like her.

Monday, 4 May 2026

For Nostalgic Purposes

 Yeesh. I need to touch up on the music choices.

Starting with the original song for the site. It needs to be replaced entirely. It used to fit the old theme of the website when I first started — it had a vibe to it. That vibe no longer applies.


This used to be one of the images of my old design.



I'm pretty sure the majority of my posts will be ⊡ Catch Up labels. Probably some randomness here and there.

For nostalgic purposes though — the original song name is on Pixabay. I don't feel like making a mini music player for this one. Well, maybe not for this song specifically, but perhaps for the website overall.

Song Origin

I'll just leave this here for myself. Goodbye music, times were fun. 😭

<div><iframe width="300" height="0" src="https://vocaroo.com/embed/1cocBDc8xbCy?autoplay=1" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay"></iframe></div>

Welp

 

Welp.

I made a few changes to the website. I'm sure it's obvious.

There was a point where I had wanted to create a whole new design. That idea is scrapped. I don't feel like doing all of the extra work — and what I have is already pretty nice. Drifting Echo is the main and only website. That's settled.

While making those changes, I got a real look back into the past. Everything was different in the ways that mattered. I'll just leave things there.

I'm not really sure what to post about next. I'll probably work on some updated interests for this website. I have a long while left to stay on it while some plans are in motion. I might as well make it to my liking.

2026 Is Looking Pretty Good

This morning is surprisingly clear.

Despite the five tubs of bathwater that kept pouring not too long ago. Apparently some places were hailing — perhaps further up north. I definitely heard just water. That probably explains the cold chill in the middle of a spring day. Felt like summer just a couple of days prior. Only one month away from summer, by the way.

Oh yeah — I quit my job last Monday. April 27th, 2026.

I made sure to leave abruptly rather than during the week. It was a bad job. I gave notice that day and proceeded not to show up for the rest of the week. No drama. Just gone.

Shortly after, I went to an event on Eventbrite — some financial thing that wasn't worth my while. Turned out to be a pyramid scheme tied to Patrick Bet-David. The founder of the PHP Agency. Of course he wasn't there, and I wasn't introduced to the nature of the scheme beforehand. I probably should have done my research before ending up at a Trump supporter's national financial marketing organization focused on life insurance — in a shopping mall.

Had I known anything about Patrick Bet-David prior to visiting, I simply wouldn't have dressed up for the occasion.

2026 is looking pretty good regardless.

I ended up looking up some political maps and history about the area afterward. To no one's surprise, the Galleria and River Oaks area leans predominantly white and conservative. That would explain the several Cybertruck sightings when I was homeless around there, seeking services a long time ago. At least three per week.

Now that I've quit, no more of that area.

Besides — Sebastian made a comment suggesting I was from Africa for not liking a poorly cooked apple pastry. I'm Houstonian. He was the husband of one of the owners at my job.

Good riddance.

Search This Blog

Most Popular Posts Of The Month