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My human half is getting rather depress(ed)ing...
14 years ago
General
He recently started up a wordpress blog so that he could promote his filmmaking, photography and writing. This is a good thing! However, his last journal was decidely more personal and not what I'd consider professional. After a short discussion we agreed that he should remove it from that site and post it here instead.
Why here, you may ask? 'Why do I want to know what some human person thing feels?' Some days I ask the exact same question, but I'll refrain from saying anything until you've read his piece. Here goes.
"My furry friend
Scurrow was holding a birthday party yesterday. A costume party. I think, yeah, I can do that! So I cobbled together a somewhat creepy outfit of coveralls, balaclava, black leather boots and gloves. I'll do alright, I can't wait to see what everyone else dressed up as!
And then it snowed. And I was the only one to show up in costume. Er... actually, one other girl dressed up somewhat, but that was it. Later on, Scurrow and a few furries got into their fursuits and frolicked and cavorted, but one should expect that when furries are present! By then I had already removed my own costume, feeling rather out of place and growing rapidly more uncomfortable with the whole scene. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't what anyone was doing, or anything in particular.
It was more the overall crushing feeling of not wanting to be there, of not wanting to be seen. The awkwardness, the constant grazing on food, the hovering near but never really joining any particular group to talk or hang out. Christ, it was bad.
I am getting worse and worse in social situations. The more people around, the more panic I feel rising up in me. It's awful, and I'm sure it is treatable with therapy or drugs or something else I can't afford. But just grinning and bearing it isn't cutting it so well these days.
It did improve somewhat as the crowd began to thin out. I was handed a video camera and that was good, I became a documenter of the event vs. a participant, so that gave me some relief. Later on I hung out with some musicians and we just tooled around on instruments, some real (banjos) and others improvised (frying pans). That was fun, as I could just do art and not give a damn about anything but riffing and grooving and enjoying myself.
I stayed the night, and then went to a diner with the remaining guests for breakfast. They were pleasant, but the guilt of not doing much with them the previous night colored how I was with them today. I warmed up a bit, but found it tough to connect. I hovered mostly, occassionally interjecting a comment if I had something to say, but still feeling like a fifth wheel. If I hadn't gone, or hadn't stayed the night, I'm sure it would have been more enjoyable for them all.
I've brought this up to my long suffering mother, who has told me I should perhaps speak to a priest about my feelings. If they get any worse I will be utterly crippled, and at a time when I can't afford to withdraw into some shell. Thankfully this doesn't affect my business or professional dealings, only my casual social ones, else I'd truly be fucked. I do perfectly fine when I need to get things done, or direct a film, or tackle some artistic/work challenge.
But parties just kill me. Sorry, Scurrow, for being a dead fish, it was crummy of me."
So that was his blog. He's right, he does need help. And I'm not here to garner sympathy, money, advice, or anything from anyone. But I am concerned.
As a boy, this human created me many years ago, and we've grown up together ever since then. He invented all sorts of adventures for me and other animal pals, and that took a lot of energy and creativity to pull off. Because of his life and his experiences, I evolved and grew into who I am today. Without him, I wouldn't be here. And without me, his creation and furry surrogate, he wouldn't have been able to engage the furry world and its denizens.
Once we set up an account here on FA, and made friends in the real world, slowly but surely we've etched a toehold into this community. It's a good thing, and it has spawned lots of new characters and stories, which is a beautiful thing! My brother Dax is the most recent addition to this wacky family, and is quite happy when the human puts on the makeup and costume and goes out into the real world dressed as him. Dax helps our human to gain the confidence and snappiness that as his own normal self is too afraid to commit to. And fantasy characters need to stretch their legs and see the sights, even if they are borrowing someone else's body to do so, we both love the human for the opportunity!
GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH
That was your brain trying to process this. All these "creations", "identities", "personalities". Who is who, and what is running the show here? Good question.
You see, myself, Dax, that pesky cat Dusky Sam, and countless others, we all have been born from this human fellow's vivid and colorful imagination. We see that he is suffering through what looks like some sort of depression, a deep seated feeling of being trapped in a world he is growing less willing to inhabit. We understand this. We also know that without him to write about us, or photograph us, or dress up like us, we will cease to exist. So if he succumbs to foolish thoughts of killing himself, or moving to a monastery and forsaking the world, we go with him. And we like it here too much to give up that delicate toehold that we have now. There is so much more to commit to paper, to celluloid, to video, to foam rubber and snazzy pants, that to cut it short now would be like genocide. We, the fantasies, have to keep our maker, our human, our friend, from forgetting this. Even if we have to cajole or threaten him with bad haircuts and feverish nightmares!
Because our razors are buzzing, and fantasies can get very down and dirty when it comes to survival!
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Human: No... no please, God, no, don't do this to me! I can't take this pressure much longer... oh, oh... oh...
Dusky: Shall I cut off his balls and stuff them in his mouth?
Max: If that's what it takes to get his ass back to work then so be it! Hoo hoo hoo....
Dusky: Nyeh heh heh! You're more ruthless than I thought, Maxie! I'm beginning to like you, almost.
Max: Sheesh! We've got more in common than not, cat!
Why here, you may ask? 'Why do I want to know what some human person thing feels?' Some days I ask the exact same question, but I'll refrain from saying anything until you've read his piece. Here goes.
"My furry friend
Scurrow was holding a birthday party yesterday. A costume party. I think, yeah, I can do that! So I cobbled together a somewhat creepy outfit of coveralls, balaclava, black leather boots and gloves. I'll do alright, I can't wait to see what everyone else dressed up as!And then it snowed. And I was the only one to show up in costume. Er... actually, one other girl dressed up somewhat, but that was it. Later on, Scurrow and a few furries got into their fursuits and frolicked and cavorted, but one should expect that when furries are present! By then I had already removed my own costume, feeling rather out of place and growing rapidly more uncomfortable with the whole scene. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't what anyone was doing, or anything in particular.
It was more the overall crushing feeling of not wanting to be there, of not wanting to be seen. The awkwardness, the constant grazing on food, the hovering near but never really joining any particular group to talk or hang out. Christ, it was bad.
I am getting worse and worse in social situations. The more people around, the more panic I feel rising up in me. It's awful, and I'm sure it is treatable with therapy or drugs or something else I can't afford. But just grinning and bearing it isn't cutting it so well these days.
It did improve somewhat as the crowd began to thin out. I was handed a video camera and that was good, I became a documenter of the event vs. a participant, so that gave me some relief. Later on I hung out with some musicians and we just tooled around on instruments, some real (banjos) and others improvised (frying pans). That was fun, as I could just do art and not give a damn about anything but riffing and grooving and enjoying myself.
I stayed the night, and then went to a diner with the remaining guests for breakfast. They were pleasant, but the guilt of not doing much with them the previous night colored how I was with them today. I warmed up a bit, but found it tough to connect. I hovered mostly, occassionally interjecting a comment if I had something to say, but still feeling like a fifth wheel. If I hadn't gone, or hadn't stayed the night, I'm sure it would have been more enjoyable for them all.
I've brought this up to my long suffering mother, who has told me I should perhaps speak to a priest about my feelings. If they get any worse I will be utterly crippled, and at a time when I can't afford to withdraw into some shell. Thankfully this doesn't affect my business or professional dealings, only my casual social ones, else I'd truly be fucked. I do perfectly fine when I need to get things done, or direct a film, or tackle some artistic/work challenge.
But parties just kill me. Sorry, Scurrow, for being a dead fish, it was crummy of me."
So that was his blog. He's right, he does need help. And I'm not here to garner sympathy, money, advice, or anything from anyone. But I am concerned.
As a boy, this human created me many years ago, and we've grown up together ever since then. He invented all sorts of adventures for me and other animal pals, and that took a lot of energy and creativity to pull off. Because of his life and his experiences, I evolved and grew into who I am today. Without him, I wouldn't be here. And without me, his creation and furry surrogate, he wouldn't have been able to engage the furry world and its denizens.
Once we set up an account here on FA, and made friends in the real world, slowly but surely we've etched a toehold into this community. It's a good thing, and it has spawned lots of new characters and stories, which is a beautiful thing! My brother Dax is the most recent addition to this wacky family, and is quite happy when the human puts on the makeup and costume and goes out into the real world dressed as him. Dax helps our human to gain the confidence and snappiness that as his own normal self is too afraid to commit to. And fantasy characters need to stretch their legs and see the sights, even if they are borrowing someone else's body to do so, we both love the human for the opportunity!
GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH
That was your brain trying to process this. All these "creations", "identities", "personalities". Who is who, and what is running the show here? Good question.
You see, myself, Dax, that pesky cat Dusky Sam, and countless others, we all have been born from this human fellow's vivid and colorful imagination. We see that he is suffering through what looks like some sort of depression, a deep seated feeling of being trapped in a world he is growing less willing to inhabit. We understand this. We also know that without him to write about us, or photograph us, or dress up like us, we will cease to exist. So if he succumbs to foolish thoughts of killing himself, or moving to a monastery and forsaking the world, we go with him. And we like it here too much to give up that delicate toehold that we have now. There is so much more to commit to paper, to celluloid, to video, to foam rubber and snazzy pants, that to cut it short now would be like genocide. We, the fantasies, have to keep our maker, our human, our friend, from forgetting this. Even if we have to cajole or threaten him with bad haircuts and feverish nightmares!
Because our razors are buzzing, and fantasies can get very down and dirty when it comes to survival!
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Human: No... no please, God, no, don't do this to me! I can't take this pressure much longer... oh, oh... oh...
Dusky: Shall I cut off his balls and stuff them in his mouth?
Max: If that's what it takes to get his ass back to work then so be it! Hoo hoo hoo....
Dusky: Nyeh heh heh! You're more ruthless than I thought, Maxie! I'm beginning to like you, almost.
Max: Sheesh! We've got more in common than not, cat!
He is good at hiding his fears, he's had a long time to perfect that! He told me he was reading that Frank book on the coffee table and enjoying that very much, so weird!