Ice Star vs. 2020: Posting Hiatus + UPDATES ON ALL STORIES · 8:47am Jan 7th, 2021
This isn't going to be a happy blog. It isn't even going to be a relatively nice blog or a blog about anything be okay. I don't know when I'll be able to make blogs like that again, or frankly any kind of content in general like that. I'm not the site's most personal figure, and I never really aimed to be, so it makes sense if a lot of people hadn't realized that anything was really going on with me. I take the social out of 'social media' a lot by being what essentially amounts to a digital hermit who avoids talking about large areas of my life outside of close friend circles. I just happen to write a lot, usually in the form of stories because I just... don't really have the drive to connect in other ways or with other mediums... like blogging.
But 2020 was a bad year. It wasn't the year I lost my job, or anything I loved was burned down. While many of my family members did test positive for Covid-19, no one died. I was the least likely in my immediate to get anything, since I'm a young and healthy dude in my 20s with two at-risk parents and a toxic shithead sibling who works in the medical field. Yet, some of you might remember that around November one of my blogs and stories mentioned that I was sick. And that I was specifically sick with the flu. Was that Covid-19? To this day, no one is really sure. Considering I had Covid-19-specific symptoms, the time was right, and it lined up at the one time when I would have been specifically exposed it all seems really likely I ended up with a false negative, partially because I was tested really early. Plus, I have had anosmia for over a decade, which means I can't tell one of the key Covid-19 symptoms. [1]
[1] For those wondering what this is, it means I only have four senses. I can't smell anything. I don't know why, because my family never considered it being a priority to look into the cause of why that was. The closest I can manage to being able to smell is if the air in certain places tastes funny. (So, I know when there is cigarette smoke, when it's about to rain, and generally just get an icky sticky sensation at the back of my throat when people wear too much body spray/perfume.) This means I can't tell if there are fires anywhere, onions can't make me cry, and coronavirus-related loss of smell isn't something I can tell. If you've ever noticed I don't describe smell a lot in my stories either, this is why. It's just not something that's part of my life and I can't really tell you what it was like to be able to smell.
For everyone who went through all those things and worse in 2019-2020, I'm fucking sorry, if that means anything. I don't really know how to account for this year specifically. Yes, 2019 was shit for me, for the most part, but I really thought things were looking up a bit right before the lockdowns had started and we had corona here.
In 2020, I had to admit to a family member that I was gay, and this being a family member who got less LGBTphobic when they finally came around to the fact that I was trans a couple of years ago. Which means that there is over eighteen years of the fact this person isn't going to grasp what it was like being homophobic to their own child, particularly towards gay men. Or that when I first started transitioning, they expected me to just start liking women and would routinely ask me "Do you like girls yet?" like that wasn't supposed to mean something. It also means that they had to tell me that yes, this means the rest of my family (with very few exceptions) will not welcome me ever bringing a boyfriend to a family event. Or ever suggesting I'm... anything, really. Meanwhile, my sibling can bring around all the significant others they please because they're very, very straight.
In 2020, I marked the second year of my undergrad studies. This means that not only will I be declaring a double major this year (any later year wouldn't work with the plan I have for my undergrad), it means that I'll be marking the second year that I've had to have a sheer fuckton of therapy for the ridiculously horrible home life I had to live through the first eighteen years of my life. And no, it's not because of the person above. Would anyone believe me if that was actually my nice guardian? Because they are, actually. The vast majority of people I'm surrounded by in my offline friend groups and on my campus have lovely, well-adjusted families, for the most part. They're very supported by their relatives and have been lifted through personal struggles by their friends and family. No matter their financial backgrounds, none of them grew up so poor that they counted as below the poverty line or never had enough to eat. None of them ever saw their life as a succession of failed suicide attempts, and none of them grasp the idea that a caretaker would be willing to harm them or purposely keep them (or siblings) in poverty. Even my therapist is surprised by my sibling and I not ending up as some kind of psychology-class case study of children under pseudonyms, homeless, or just anything worse considering what usually happens to people who have the background I ended up getting an extra helping of.
(Hooray for me, I guess?)
(I really think about these things too much, I suppose. But at this point, I don't really know how not to, sometimes.)
In 2020, my family believed Covid-19 conspiracies more than they were worried about me getting sick again. They did not decide to get voluntary, under-10-minutes of testing (I'd been subject to multiple tests throughout the year for university). I was teased and scolded for refusing to go home, especially when I found out my home county was in the worst stage possible on my state's scale and multiple family members had tested positive (plus, the family I would have to stay with admitted to seeing said positive family in under a month). So I didn't get to go home for the holidays. Or my birthday. When my classes start up again, the classes will be in an accelerated semester. This means that there will not be any breaks. I won't get to go home for spring break because there will not be one. I will not get to go home for Easter.
I haven't seen my cat since August, or the other cats in my home. I get to FaceTime them sometimes, but I can't hold them. I don't get to brush them. I don't have a roommate, except the mice that keep getting into my dorm (despite me never leaving food out) and always calling housing staff (who are very perplexed about them because my building is nice) by the pests. My cats don't get to have anyone who plays with them or generally spends lots of time with them. I was the one who brushed them the most (not that they were neglected, but I spoil them). I got them gifts and made sure their ears were extra-clean and that they got their baths. I wouldn't even mind if they woke me up at 3 AM because they were playing or hungry, I just want to see them. Really see them. And I don't get to. I have had my cat since I was ten, and after losing two cats in 2019-2020, I want to be there as much as possible because I love my cat. She is older, but extremely healthy. Still, I lost the other two recent cats in circumstances that were awful and I couldn't be there for and I worry about my cat more than I worry about myself.
I know that my cat gets lonely when I'm not there too. All the pictures of her I'm sent show her looking sleepy and mopey. I don't even have a lot of pictures of her because every few months I dump all my photos and stuff into a Google Drive to make room for more memes on my phone. (I'm not going to delete perfectly nice photos or memes, either. Hence the drive. The problem is that I don't keep up with naming the files so there are about 4k files that aren't named I would have to sort through.) It would be nice if people could stop treating me asking about my cat like it is a bother too. It isn't like she has a phone that she could use; she's not a person who could call me whenever she liked. No one else ever spells her name right, and one of my parents can't even remember that the calico cat I've had since I was ten is a girl.
In 2020, I also had to start getting speech therapy again, something I hadn't had since middle school. Any of you who listened to my Barcast interview might recall that for a dude in my 20s, I had an unusually high, hoarse voice. Some of you even commented that I sounded too young for my age. Considering, I'm still getting carded, mistaken for a high schooler, getting called 'Miss', and also was starting to have pain with talking, I decided to see a doctor in November. It turned out that there was a reason for that. Not only did I not know how to speak in a chest voice (part of why talking hurt), I had such bad acid reflux that it was visibly damaging my vocal folds. My voice fluctuated crazily because I didn't know how to talk and my throat was too damaged for me to talk right. (It's worth noting that while I've always had acid reflux, it was never so bad that it damaged my voice before, and I didn't have any telltale heartburn. Plus, I eat healthily and shit.)
What I ended up with was swollen tonsils I have to get checked out because the ENT forgot to tell me and the therapist only mentioned it when I was finally able to get speech therapy going in December after the fax sent was gobbled up by the system they had twice and a kind of spasmodic dysphonia. Thankfully, it can be corrected, but it means I have to talk again. What it also means is not only did I startle a speech therapist by being on testosterone 1 1/2 years and still sounding like a child, but I actually have a much deeper pitch that I'm capable of. It even surprised me, and now I have to work on speaking at that level.
In 2020, I nearly failed one of my classes. This is by far the most normal of my problems, but considering I'm in a scholar/pre-grad program that requires me to keep a certain GPA and the English Honor Society, I'm not supposed to get a D in any of my English classes. Especially because I've never failed a college class yet. The lowest I've gotten in college before was a C. Worst of all, it wasn't a) because I was sick when it was finals and couldn't finish the final paper (which is my fault, but also how do you write when you're constantly nauseous all but 4 hours of the day and struggle not to faint?) b) it was literary criticism, which is short for 'The Single Class that Should Tell You not to Be an English Major Because it is Terrible and You Will Manage to Learn Less Than Nothing Which You Didn't Think Was Possible Especially When Mitochondria is the Powerhouse to the Cell Has Been a Meme About All the School System Teaches But Really Even Twelve Years in the Public School System and That Stupid Fact Alone is Worth More than Paying for a Single Literary Criticism Class' as its full Latin name.
In 2020, I had to figure out where tonsils were actually located. Because mine are still swollen, like they were in November. Yes, obviously I will be calling a doctor about that, but I'm mostly still weirded out by these things.
In 2020, the only reason I didn't spend Christmas alone was that a friend mentioned in passing to her mother my circumstances, and I was welcomed over. I'm extremely grateful for their generosity, but it was at least awkward realizing afterward that I am very much "That poor friend who shows up overdressed, is Awkwardly Polite Out of Gratefulness, is very good at not mentioning their family, and has to ask if they're allowed to have food at a dinner party" which isn't the pill I'd like to swallow, but here we are.
In 2020, I learned that one of the major reasons behind my stupid voice was because of an error made in my transition. A few months ago, the syringes I had been working with for the better part of a year were switched again. I was never told how to measure anything or properly administer anything with these new syringes. I was just given the new bag and more or less just told 'hey good luck, it's all on the package' which would normally be helpful advice. Except, it wasn't. These were much smaller, and I'm severely dyscalculic. These syringes are all in metric (which is worse for me to try and read) and each only has a number at the top and bottom. I can only measure things based on where they are in relation to one another or based on a similarly-sized amount or object. In other words, most of how I can measure things really comes down to comparison. I know what six feet means because of the height/width of something that is approximately six feet, not because I know what actually makes up six feet. I remember pills based on simple amounts (2 of X = X amount of fancier measurement =/= X fancier amount of measurement = 2 of X).
This means that for over three months, I was having to administer a literal steroid by guessing where one line was in a smaller syringe compared to a larger one. What ended up happening wasn't that I was under-dosing slightly (seriously, testosterone is very strong stuff and underdose is safer than an overdose will ever be) it was that I was using (according to my doctor, because of fucking math) 1/10th of a syringe when I should have been using 1/4th of it. Is it any wonder my voice is shit?
...I'm just going to cut my 2020 recap short there, I suppose. Those events may not be the long of it, but they're the short of it. And it is 3 AM right now, and I can't sleep because I have to think about getting mousetraps. My bed is a rising bed, and I have it to the highest setting to keep it as a weird loft only I can climb. I'm not worried about a mouse climbing on my bed, I just fucking hate them. I'm also worried as hell about the fact that I have to wear broken glasses until very late this month. They broke early in December/late November and are only being held together with a bit of glue and tape. This would not normally be a problem, except that I do not have any spare glasses, and I can't leave the county to get the one spare pair I have back home. That pair also happens to be from when I was about 13, I think? If my glasses get any worse, I am very fucked.
The point is that I'm anxious, demotivated, and tired. I really didn't get a break at all. In fact, what I got was the exact opposite these past few months. There are no holidays for Ice Star. Even on the days free of therapy homework, my extra/honor programs I'm in thinking I want non-optional homework over break, and having to constantly do housekeeping/schedule a barrage of medical appointments... I just don't have the focus or motivation I need to write. I've been severely distracted and not in the best place. Have I written in worse conditions? Yes, I suppose so. But I also had somewhat fewer things to worry about, sort of. Or, at least I have more responsibilities I can't really compromise right now.
Still, let's review my pony projects:
- Enemy of Mine: The latest chapter is up to 5,000 words but not close to being done. The remaining parts and the rest of the story have all been outlined, some parts years in advance. I commissioned a special new cover that I will put in once I get the chapters that are up revised. The interludes (minus Sombra's) and first chapter, as well as the most recent one, have all been revised. I have future chapters written but in need of editing. Not all of them are pre-written, unfortunately. This beast, its sequels, and the main arc as a whole will forever remain my priority but I really do have that whole semester and double major thing too.
- My bookshelf of stories to revise only has 24 stories left. Unfortunately, these stories total a little over 1 million words.
- That's right, they're all my longer stories. Including one that has an in-progress EqD-submission-delayed bonus/closure chapter that has been in progress for over a year and I'm almost done with, plus revisions I'm equally overdue on.
- I found some old scraps in a notebook for Missing Pages. I'll publish them eventually, but for now, they're a buffer of unpublished stuff. I wasn't able to turn them into anything new.
- Cryptic Coda has some scattered tales pre-written in the first draft and note stages. I have part of the current tale's next update done, but I haven't touched it for months.
- Stay Golden has about four-six chapters in various stages of completion. I'm also waiting on some commissions of Marigold and Petunia.
- I have 85 stories revised.
- My first book of 20+ stories is only waiting on the cover art! I will make a blog when it is done, I'll be ordering a test copy, and when it's publically released I'll make a bigger blog. Also worth mentioning is that the stories in it were corrected for the umpteenth time in their Word Document. I will copy and paste their updated and final versions to Fimfiction when the book is released because right now undertaking that would be such a nightmare. I'm just so fucking tired of all this tiresome revising, editing, and correcting.
- I'm way overdue on my horse book reviews... I'm just not at home. That makes it difficult to review them.
- I found the last of my pre-2018 notebooks. In one, I found a complete draft of a story. It has been typed, updated, and revised. The story now sits at over 7k words and awaits final edits for eventual publishing. I'm very proud of it; it's my usual dark history content and it has Luna.
- There is a Sassy Saddles story I've got just under 1k on. I want this novella to be publishable by pride month. There are trans horses.
- I started over 3k of a personal speedwrite turned novelette. Only that one chapter is done, but the rest is outlined. Unfortunately, it needs a prequel. Fortunately, this prequel is a modest little thing that will be about 10k when written and is fully outlined, though I haven't started it.
- I have a stand-alone SFW/Teen rated prequel one-shot to Stay Golden that is edited and awaiting publishing. It's focused on Petunia, since she is a horrible piece of shit, but one I like getting to write and wanted to write more of.
- I am over 1k into another Discord/Celestia comedy romance fluff one-shot. The smooze shows up too.
- I am one chapter into a fully-outlined four-chapter DisLestia romantic comedy. It's even E-Rated. There is also some secondary Rarity/Twilight shipping. I'm not in the right space to write it now, but maybe you'll see some of it by Valentine's Day. I really was hoping to have it posted then. Overall, I just wanted most of these things to be done in the few weeks I have before my classes started up again. I really could have done all of this if I focused on being productive, but I just... really couldn't this year. I don't want to feel like I break promises to my readers, partly because I feel like I do it a lot, but because I'm also a reader too. I write what I enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it, and letting you guys down lets me down too.
- I am 6k into a Mayor Mare story. There are seven chapters. I have five done. One is partially written. The other is outlined.
This isn't the blog I wanted to make for having over nine hundred followers. As always, I'm still working on things but holy fuck I can't keep up with the pressure to post or really do anything right now. Until I can begin updating regularly, I will be continuing to chip away at what I have, just at a much slower pace. This will hopefully give more time to actually relax and worry less over this semester. I have a lot of books I've been meaning to read, and a huge backload of new books both in my dorm and at home. Getting the chance to read has helped with controlling my anxiety somewhat, and it's nice to have something close to a break. I'd like to do more of that, I think.
For once, I just want things to get better because I actually believed they would. Now, I'm not so sure. I've never been one for platitudes but... I really can't say how much hope I have for this coming year. I'm not sure if the fact that I'm still shocked by all the horrible things people do is ideal or not too.
Damn this blog is longer than most of my stories. I’ll try to read it when I’m not at work driving
That's an awful lot for anyone to suffer through, even - no, especially in 2020. I'm so sorry. Hope you get enough time for yourself, this year.
Stay safe.
Though I've not yet read many of your works, nonetheless I wish you nothing but the best of futures; one with opportunity at every corner, and connection and warmth from every face. One where your struggles will be supported by the arched backs of peers that are willing to help at any moment. While I've never yet suffered like you have and never could fully relate, I do empathize. Think I'll get around to reading some more of your no-doubt delightful prose sooner, now.
uh, yeah, that's a lot of shit. D:
Pausing pony words for a while is definitely the thing to do.
I won't pretend to understand what your going through, but I think your an inspirational writer and a damn good person. I've only been a apart of your fandom for a little while, but I want to offer up my support. Life can suck sometimes, but without the struggle, life would have no meaning. If there is no pain then there is no joy. I hope you can fight through these dark times and find some hope. You don't know me, but if you ever need to vent or talk to someone I'm here.
Hope you can recover from all that crap.
-OYL
That is more suck than I’d wish on anyone. I’m glad you’ve got at least some friends to talk to and help, though. I hope you pull through, though I doubt it’ll be pleasant. Do what you can.
That sounds like a good sized laundry list of terrible. I remember looking up to the poverty line as a kid. I never went hungry or homeless, but I knew they weren't far off either. I grew up not far from Canada, and I did have the distinct pleasure of going cold a few times. Wearing your outside coat inside is weird and not fun.
I wish you didn't have to go through so much and I hope things'll eventually get better for you, and you don't have to deal with so much pressure (or shitty family). I kinda know how that feels to have grown up in an awful environment.
It's okay to take care of yourself first and deal with what you can. I hope you can eventually get a break and some space to breathe soon, :(
(I know mice hate mint so I don't know if mint oil/mint anything might be able to keep them out of your room. I had to stuff a hole behind our stove with steel wool + mint oil and caulk to keep a mouse out of our apartment.)
*hugs* all I can say is I hope things start getting better. With vaccines rolling out. Hopefully that’ll be one less thing for you to worry about
Dude, actually like sitting down and reading a really good book rn is fuckin magical. Just disconnection.
And wow, yeah, your 2019/20 sounds like it sucked a lot more than most people's. Words from a stranger probably mean pretty much nothing, but hey, hope your 2021 gets better. Up with 21 and down with the mouses!
Yeah. With all the shit you have going on, if you want to slow down then just slow down. Or take a break entirely, if that's what you want or need. Take care of yourself first.
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Thank you for taking the time to even comment.
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I'm trying, but it's hard. I'm safer than most people are, or have been this year. I think. It's hard feeling like anywhere is safe any more.
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Thank you. It means a lot knowing that people are still here om Fimfiction, be it friendly new faces or familiar ones. 2019-21 has managed to make even the internet feel isolating.
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I don't know who was mean enough to downvote your comment, but thank you for taking the time to tell me I'm being dumb exerting myself. I'm bad at listening to that. Especially when I tell myself that.
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Thank you for being drawn to my content of all content as a newbie, I really never thought I stood out so much. I'm really hoping I'm not sounding too repetitive, but it does mean a lot hearing from everyone. I'm just really tired and have been trying to catch a mouse for too long. Still haven't seen the dumb thing again.
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Thanks, Iota. Been missing your stuff around these horse parts lately.
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I'm from the Northeast US so I would have had to do this
if I had a winter coat as a kid. I really alternated from thinking we were and weren't that poor as a kid cause I didn't know any better.5431689
That's the plan.
5430815
I had no idea mice hated mint. I tried baiting my traps with bread because it turns out they like bread more than cheese.
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I'm not sure when people in my position/demographic will get them, but hopefully soon.
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Words from strangers can still mean something. 🖤
Time to vibe with dead trees, then.
5431760
Time to get that groove on.
Also:
Chocolate, my dude. Chocolate in mouse-traps has never failed me once. Okay, that's a lie, but it does work surprisingly well! If bread doesn't do it, let the mices eat chocolate.
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I actually don't have any that's not cocoa powder. Unfortunately, I'm a healthy eater.
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Thanks for saying that, I appreciate it! I posted stuff just, like, a week ago tho :P
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I know I just have not had all the reading time I would have liked for horse lately.
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Understandable. There'd be better things out there even if you did.
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They’re still on my read it later. 🖤
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Suffering from success