Sylvanna Devlin

I’m hoping taking care of the outside will improve my mood on the inside. It’s a step up from “fuck it all”. But I’m learning ASL and thus looking at my hands a lot. I wanted them to be prettier.

At least Tabitha knows when I’m sulking.

Because there’s confusion both pictures taken today. No opportunity for someone to switch cats. But one is a snapshot. The other is really good – from a different angle. Like my photos of me, angles and lighting matter!

But accurate

Do I look like someone to vanish?

But pink but my Christmas tree has very bright red.

Some days I really want to know what’s going on around me.

Sometimes I don’t

Even when I don’t want to be.

I’ve had such the narrative pumped into my feverish mind that I don’t know if the truth will ever be clear.

I love you.

No wonder I want to die. Everyone seems to know things about a Melissa Devlin and won’t tell me what. Because she stole my pictures.

I got in some snacks, some dealcoholized wine, ready to celebrate the season – along with some wine glasses still in their container.

I really shouldn’t have bought them. I won’t be able to afford them next Christmas. But since I did, and they’re special they’re going under the tree.

Self gifting? Are you that lonely? Right now no. I have my cat and Abba (God) and the world has been so fucking painful I both want to save it, and stay out of it. So I am alone but not lonely.

I’ll probably stream the service the local Christian Orthodox Church has. But still not go out.

It might be different this season if there weren’t presents from impulsive me under the tree!

It’s ridiculous I suppose. And I’m searching for justification and explanations but really it’s just more fun that way. The season is better with a fuller tree.

I do recommend it to those celebrating alone but still celebrating. And there are actually probably more who would, if it weren’t for a bare spot reminding them they’re celebrating the holiday by themselves.

Put a fake tree up, just a little one. Put on some ornaments. Pop a luxury item under that tree if you can afford one. I am in luck in that I still have ornaments and a proper box for them I acquired in 2005-2006 or before.

All my decorations save some paper trees and a couple of stuffed creatures are all I’ve acquired since and I was given them. My tree was bought in 2007. My decorative icicles in 2006. They’ve been through lots of moves with me. My ability to cling on to 20 year old decorations is admittedly a sign I love Christmas.

I don’t even know why.

Since I do. I’m celebrating in style in my tiny room in a woman’s Single Room occupancy building. It’s cramped. But I’m still grateful to be here. It’s the season for gratitude I suppose.

Self care wasn’t a concept I entirely understood. I’m learning to wax legs, proper nails are next. Preening was the only aspect I could get behind. I’m sure a glass of wine, heated blanket and a book would count. I should try it.

A lot of people roll their eyes at the very concept, everyone associates the word self with selfishness and care with others kindness. What the hell is this idea?

Well let’s think about the airplane oxygen mask example always given. If you don’t put yours on first you can’t breathe enough to help others. It’s such a conceptual cliche because it’s an idea we can visualize.

For some self care is a spending spree, it’s true. It’s not spiritually invigorating but some find comfort in finding a deal or best quality item. I’m not going to judge. And I certainly wasn’t going to bother last year while in a homeless shelter. But after that slightly crowded environment – with a roommate losing her shit, actually getting sick, and my cat (thankfully) at a friend’s? I could do with a better experience.

So a few modest self purchased presents under the tree.

I didn’t celebrate at all in 2023 either. It just wasn’t an option with the constant audio abuse and it was my first Christmas alone with my cat. So this is Tabiitha”s first actual Christmas with me too.

I can’t explain why it works. It just does. Frankly I could do with sitting with my grief alone and in private, and my stalker kind of makes everyone able to have visuals and maybe even commentary anyway. But it’s better than nothing.

Maybe next year I’ll be more social. But this year at least I’m satisfied with the way I’m celebrating the season.

What is it? It’s creating or altering real sound, video, and social media. False pictures. 3D images. And lots and lots of synthesized sound. It can also involve hacking – and for me reading off what I’m writing!

It’s too much to live with. I understand. But it’s here and it’s real – reality abuse.

Add gaslighting about what’s created? And good luck reporting it.

Time delays with baited questions, 24/7 noise that breaks down your ability to describe what’s happening to you. And it sounds like madness.

Personally I’m tired of being blamed for being a bullseye.

What’s that? In a divide and conquer situation you target someone innocent and drive everyone to fight about whether she’s the village sweetheart or wicked witch!

It’s a new form of terrorism. And it’s happening to me again right now.

Usually the goal is to scare everyone. And I’ve left a paper trail a mile long so you bet someone is worrying. But the general populace falls apart before they know what’s happened to them.