Oddly enough, on official paperwork that asks for height, I have to put what I used to be. That was 6’1. Hasn’t been true for a decade, but when I question it, I get a shoulder shrug in response. My dating profile clearly stated how I’m disabled. My ID says I’m 6’1. That’s bureaucracy for you.

It is pathetic. I lost my damn legs as a single father in my mid 30s. I was worried I would no longer be able to successfully date at all. I dated just fine and eventually met my wife. Turns out that treating women as fully independent human people worthy of the same respect I wanted goes a long way. If you’re an alt right chud who can’t get laid, it’s not your looks. Take it from a half man; It’s who you are and how you see women.

Yeah yeah. Conservatives are gormless. I already knew this.

Been a decade now.

I doubt I was always aware, but from my memory, I usually was. It was like being trapped in a puppet body, unable to change a single thing. I tried to wrest control over and over. I went crazy fighting to gain any manner of control. Eventually I just tried to get my heart to stop so I could die a true death and escape that way.

My assumption is that what I was feeling was surgeries as anesthesia started to wear off and before they could safely dose me down into dreamless black again. From my perspective, this meant shifting from one nightmare to the next. Sometimes I would get ripped apart over and over. Other times I would drown for hours or die of thirst and hunger on a loop.

I had a few pleasant dreams. The one I remember most was where I was lying on a slab and Robin Williams was singing songs from his movies to comfort me. I had this sense I was about to actually die, and by that time I was very comfortable with that. It was peaceful and I was ready. Turns out my body wasn’t. I got about as close to death as you can get without my heart stopping. Many of my organs shut down, but never my heart.

Lots of imagery from games and movies cobbled together to shape the horrors that assaulted me. The ape things that ripped me apart in some nightmares were more or less a combo between the grey apes from congo and goro from mortal combat with a shovel shaped head. Laughable sounding in the waking world. Terrifying beyond words when I knew what they could do to me.

The main epiphany I came away with is that true death is not as scary as you might think. Fates worse than death are a thing and I have a living will to prevent going through one ever again. My relationship with death is much more cordial these days. I do not rush to embrace it, but when my time comes, I will go at ease because I never forgot the peace I felt during the Robin Williams dream. At the very end, the only thing waiting is rest eternal.

I was in an induced coma for a month after my accident. It was a horrific experience that traumatized me severely. Tons of nightmares I could feel. Constantly shifting from one to another without sense or reason. No consistency, no mercy, lucid but unable to make change. No escape. I feared I wasn’t actually in reality when I truly woke up at first. I kept fearing another shift. I died countless horrific deaths and lost my mind in there.

In researching coma dreams and nightmares in others, I see similar themes. Not always terrible, but always shifty ridiculous dream logic. The dreaming mind is not a realm of coherency telling a long story with a super clear thread. It is an ocean of ideas, fears, thoughts and needs that crash and clang together. In a single night you can have a fragment of a dream you remember that kinda sorta makes sense, but stuck in there for extended times? Chaos reigns.

Having a hobby in a price gouging capitalist hellscape.

" Well, I know it isnt all that stuff that clearly needs work"

With a reaction like that I would say yes, you need to pay some attention to yourself. By the way, a lot of that “cool stuff” is very ordinary shit like trivia night at a local sports bar.

I’m part of a social activity meetup group that also does a bit of volunteer stuff for folks In need. I’m already with someone but I’ve watched people meet and pair off in that group several times. It happens.

If you smell shit everywhere you go, check your shoes.

My ball was blue. It’s one of those dog toy soft bouncy ones. Table is rectangular, wood, with a light colored stain that’s well polished. A man casually slaps the ball and I hear the sound that type of ball makes as it bounces without much force. It bounced once off the table, then off the wall onto the floor where it did the dribble bounce off the tile in the kitchen until coming to rest on the carpet in the living room. None of what I see is related to my house.

If I really wanted to, I can vanish into this world I’ve built for the ball. I can get lost, staring out a window or something while not actually seeing anything because I’m in my head. I have hyperphantasia. It’s seen more often than aphantasia, but it’s not exactly common. It’s very useful for creative endeavors, but has a lot of pitfalls; usually involving spacing out at inopportune times.

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Doubt it.

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She not fit thicc either. Just fit.

Farmville was a shitty knockoff of harvest moon.

Billionaires are like everyone else. That’s the reason I don’t look up to any. They’re just as human as I am. No amount of money can ever make them anything else or anything more. They have access to an absurd degree, and they can afford far, FAR more, but they will never escape their base human nature. Almost anyone can be a billionaire. Some current billionaires prove that every moment they open their mouths.

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Lots of fake shit all over Lemmy lately. Clogged with bot gen crap and memes.

They play video games?

Making simple bread is very easy and hard to fuck up as long as you follow the goddamn instructions. It’s an excellent place to start. It’s where I started and I know how to make some very good stuff now. It’s a lot easier to get started than many fear.

Want to immediately crowd please while still doing dead simple baking? Club med bread. Piss easy bread that people tend to love and think is much more complicated.