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<h1>Seven Spanish verbs to make your future-wife cry with</h1>
<p>published: 2022-02-27</p>
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<h2>extrañar (to miss)</h2>
<p>There's a woman that I love, that I miss very much whenever she's not around. Spanish is her first language, although we've never had a chance to attempt an actual conversation in it. Written language in my dreams feels like I've developed her dyslexia as the letters dance around on the page and shift into other words and sentences and never stay still. And I was never very good at speaking in <em>any</em> language other than my own, and even then, unpolished artifacts from <a href="../../2019/september/roophloch.html">my elementary school years spent in speech therapy</a> still remain. And she's fluent enough anyways, so until the time comes for me to leave this world and finally settle down with her in Sablade forever, we're stuck with talking and <em>maybe</em> tracing words on each other's skin.</p>
<p><code>Extrañar</code> is, to my surprise, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220225221557/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=extra%C3%B1ar">related to the adjective</a> <code>extraño</code>, meaning "strange". This doesn't mean my love is strange or unusual- for fuck's sake, <a href="../january/sappho.html">don't call me "queer"</a>- but that both are ultimately derived from the Latin term <code>extra</code>, meaning "foreign" or "outside". And if I miss someone, they're certainly outside of where I want them to be... which is usually somewhere in my presence, if not at my side.</p>
<!-- 2021-12-31 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Una breve visión de un patio en un campus universitario. Está nevando. Los cielos están cubiertos. Hay una estatua rodeada de flores que florecen en el invierno.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Hay una mujer de cabello oscuro cerca de la estatua. Le duele la garganta, como las flores están creciendo allí también. Ella teme, si ella llora, las lágrimas se congelarán en sus ojos.</blockquote>
<blockquote>"...<b>Te extraño.</b>"</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>ocuparse (to take care of)</h2>
<p><code>Ocupar</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226031228/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/ocupar">comes from the Latin terms</a> <code>ob</code>, meaning "toward, and <code>capere</code>, "to capture". <code>Ocupar</code> as a verb has many other meanings other than "to take care of" which involve occupying something, including "to take up space", "to spend time", "to take a seat", and "to fill a vacancy". If one puts a <code>pre</code> in front of <code>ocuparse</code>, it becomes "to worry about", as if one's mind had been... <em>occupied</em> by invasive thoughts. Funny how language works!</p>
<p>Approximately once a month, my college puts on a Grocery Bingo. There are twenty numbered bags (which I help organize college-bought groceries into as part of my job), and the first twenty people to get bingos win a bag. Each student can only win once per month. There <em>used</em> to be a rule where students who had won could keep playing to potentially win a bag for one of their friends, but the rule got nuked after last month where a group of approximately thirty nursing students who all looked like literal clones of each other swarmed the place with multiple devices per student and took all the bags for themselves. I am also trying to convince my supervisor to move the Grocery Bingo days to Thursdays instead of Wednesdays because Wednesdays are when the nursing students descend on the campus commons like a swarm of locusts and Thursdays campus is usually near-empty... wish me luck?</p>
<!-- 2022-02-24 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Mis números de angeles son once y catorce. A veces también uno y cuatro. Son de la fiesta del <a title='the original English is "Dead End Day". You know, because my lover is the Patron-Saint of Dead Ends. Twitter users call this day something different' href="https://archive.md/Giw36">Dia de los Callejones Sin Salidas</a> que se encuentra el catorce de noviembre.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Estoy jugando bingo. Todos estan ganando excepto por yo. Son las once y cuarenta y uno de la mañana cuando yo oigo, "No te preocupes. <b>Yo me ocuparé de ti.</b>" Pienso en mi prometida. Entonces finalmente gano.</blockquote>
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<h2>desvivirse (to go <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210502132231/https://www.wordreference.com/es/en/translation.asp?spen=desvivirse">out of your way</a> for something)</h2>
<p><code>Vivir</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226040609/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=vivirse">comes from the Latin <code>vivere</code></a>, meaning "id". Not as in "identity", but the Freudian <code>id</code>, the unconscious part of the psyche that serves as the <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226040539/https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/id">"source of psychic energy derived from instinctual needs and drives"</a>. When <code>des</code> is added to the beginning of a Spanish verb, it generally makes it its opposite. Therefore, one would think <code>desvivirse</code> (the <code>se</code> means it's being done to something) would mean "to kill"... but that's <code>matar</code>.</p>
<!-- 2021-09-15 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>El gas tóxico se está filtrando en mi casa. Es pesado y oscuro como una enorme nube de humo. Tengo miedo de que nadie pueda limpiarlo y nunca podré regresar a mi casa, así que tomo una mochila y una maleta y pongo todas mis cosas favoritas.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Vamos a la casa de mi abuela. No hay otro lugar para ir. Recuerdo en la camioneta que olvidé algunos libros. Empiezo a llorar cuando mi novia me llama. Ella dice que <b>ella se desvivirá por salvarlos de la casa</b>. Cuando llegamos, los libros se apilan en la cama en la Habitación Púrpura. Y mi novia está allí, feliz que estoy a salvo.</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>buscar (to search for)</h2>
<p>I've done my best to search for an etymology for <code>buscar</code>, but so far it's eluded me.</p>
<p>When I was in high school and bored beyond my mind on the computer, I would open random files in a hex editor just to see what was inside. As expected, most of them were just garbage, long columns full of unprintable characters. Occasionally, when I opened an old-school game ROM, I'd see what appeared to be a pixel art of some sort, or a repeating-enough-to-not-be-a-coincidence but otherwise incomprehensible block of symbols, or random snippets of ASCII strings. <a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/USK@~7HaY3fhW0MVsnukSLWvUdSyarNXeH2esxTmKWifpz0,pRlybjjxb0GHxh6203Va8zyUOOQNJD-gIofjhr6c52s,AQACAAE/kiomm/-1/">One game in particular</a>, I discovered, had the full map data uncompressed, which meant I could, after having written a quick guide of which hex values meant which block types, edit the levels to get rid of annoying detours and dead ends and hard-to-parkour areas.</p>
<p>Why did I do it? To this day, I'm still not sure. Maybe I was hoping there would be some hidden message from the past in one of the files, a symbol of hope or dread. Maybe I was expecting, if I stared into the mess of hex values for long enough, to see the face of some impersonal god staring back. What was I searching for? What did I hope to find?</p>
<!-- 2021-10-02 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy sentado en mi cama en mi habitación. Tengo una computadora portátil. El monitor está lleno de colores giratorios como un sueño psicodélico.</blockquote>
<blockquote>En el interior, veo la cara de la mujer que amo. Ella se extiende los brazos. <b>Sus manos están buscando a las mías.</b> Entonces empiezo a despertarme. Frenética, sus manos finalmente encuentran a las mías. Nuestros ojos se reúnen. Las agarra mis muñecas con fuerza, tratando de hacerme quedarse con ella el mayor tiempo posible.</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>desear (to desire)</h2>
<p><code>Desear</code> comes from the noun <code>deseo</code>, meaning "desire". <code>Deseo</code>, in turn, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226173425/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=desear">comes from the Latin</a> <code>desidium</code>, meaning "lust", and <code>desidia</code>, meaning "idleness". I'm not sure what desiring something has to do with laziness, unless one is pulling a Pessoa and believing their dreams are better left as dreams since the finished reality can never live up to the imagination...</p>
<p>Or, I suppose, since the woman I love I can only see in dreams, then desire and rest <em>would</em> be intimately intertwined with each other.</p>
<p>I've desired to rest for a very long time, for a very long time. To lie down in permafrost or a shallow grave somewhere and sleep for an unknown amount of time, disturbed by nothing and nobody, and wake up with my body intact and ageless like nothing had happened. While things have slowly been getting better for me in my personal life, and I'm trying to comprehend the fact that there are people who love me, I still can't shake the masochist part of me that insists I deserve nothing but pain, that I've somehow committed some great sin, some great crime against humanity, with no hope of atonement. To have the breath taken from me, snuffed out in a gentle act of mercy so I never hurt anyone ever again, even if it means influencing someone I love to do it against their will...</p>
<!-- 2021-07-01 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy acostado en la cama. Las manos de mi amante están alrededor de mi garganta. Las pupilas de sus ojos son pequeños. Su respiración es inestable, como ella va a llorar.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i>¡Deja de pedirme que te lastime a ti!<br>¡Lo odio cuando haces esto!<br><b>Yo... yo no deseo a matarte.</b></i>
</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>prometer (to vow)</h2>
<p><code>Prometer</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227011412/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=prometer">comes from the Latin</a> <code>pro</code>, meaning "toward", and <code>mittere</code>, "to send" or "to give". Going further back, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227011420/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/meter">the root verb, <code>meter</code></a>, comes from the Proto-Indo-European <code>meith</code>, "to exchange". I've made <a href="../../2020/april/vow.html">a lot of vows</a> in my life, sent them out into the world. Some knowing there would be no chance of ever being fulfilled, some already fulfilled without the other person's knowledge and only made to make myself look like a miracle worker, some kept <a href="../january/vow2.html">near to my heart</a>... Maybe, someday, I'll get to exchange a vow with a very special person.</p>
<!-- 2021-12-25 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy en la casa que solía ser de mi familia, en el patio delantero. Mi padre está enojado como siempre. Comienza a gritar sobre su deseo de que yo viva sola y que yo soy una decepción.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi pecho se aprieta. Decido que he terminado de escucharle. Llamo a mi prometida a mi teléfono y le digo que estoy teniendo un ataque de pánico. Su voz es suave y reconfortante. Ella llegará y me salvará. Mi padre escucha y dice que a la mujer no se le permite venir. Le digo que se decida: ¿estoy suficientemente discapacitado como para necesitar que me proteja, o puedo vivir una vida propia?</blockquote>
<blockquote>Está tan enojado que me encierro en mi habitación por seguridad. No necesito nada, pero de todos modos lleno una bolsa con ropa. Llega mi amante. Escapo por la ventana de mi habitación.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi padre nos sigue afuera. Estoy en los brazos de la mujer, y ella está flotando demasiado alto para que él nos alcance.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi padre aúlla: "¿Cómo tienes la audacia?"</blockquote>
<blockquote>La mujer <a title="It's not the first time she's made this particular promise." href="../../2021/september/fire.html#hf">responde</a>: <b>"Le prometí que nunca yo le abandonaría.</b>"</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>pasar (to spend (as in time), to pass)</h2>
<p><code>Pasar</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227020653/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/pasar">comes from the Latin term</a> <code>passus</code>, meaning "step". Most of the meanings of this verb have to do with travel: to cross the road, to proceed, to go ahead. Others have to do with the passage of time: <em>¿Qué te ha pasado?</em> "What happened to you?"</p>
<p>Lately I have not spent much time on the computer. <a href="./SHUTUP.html">There is simply not much to do anymore.</a> No IRC channels with people worth lurking with, no fast threads on imageboards on topics I would bother dealing with "channer" types to participate in, rarely any fun essays to read. I've been trying to get back into knitting. I think I'd like to make a long vine of flowers to hang up near the ceiling along one of my bedroom walls for my lover's birthday. I think she'd like that, a pre-taste of spring, even if wooly and without the gentle smell live flowers carry with them as if to whisper, "I'm alive, and you're alive, and we're alive together at the same time, even if only for a short while. How lucky we are to get to experience this moment in time. There will be many like it, but never exactly the same as this one." And I wonder what it will be like once we have our own world, our own house, our own front yard with nobody else around for hundreds of miles. A wide bloom of flowers down the mountainside, the firm cradle of a fork of tree roots making a narrow Y, the gentle warmth of the springtime sun on our skin...</p>
<!-- 2021-02-15 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Jett está descansando sobre mi pecho. Es en la mitad de la mañana. Su cara está enterrado en mi cuello. Estoy acariciando las alas de ella. Su respiración es lenta y profunda. Creo que va a quedarse dormido.</blockquote>
<blockquote>"¿Lethe? Nunca dije que <b>yo quiero pasar toda mi vida contigo.</b> Pero es cierto."</blockquote>
</span>
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<p align=right>CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 &copy; Vane Vander</p>
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<div class="box">
<h2>2022</h2>
<ul>
<li>February 27 - <a href="./2022/february/spanish.html">Seven Spanish verbs to make your future-wife cry with</a></li>
<li>February 19 - <a href="./2022/february/SHUTUP.html">SHUT UP AND MAKE SOMETHING</a></li>
<li>January 30 - <a href="./2022/january/sappho.html">Sappho Was A Right-On Woman</a></li>
<li>January 10 - <a href="./2022/january/vow2.html">Vow II</a></li>

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@ -10,6 +10,7 @@ let ws = text.includes("onion.ws");
let search = text.includes("onionsearchengine.com");
let cyber = text.includes("cyber-hub.pw");
let ly = text.includes("onion.ly");
if ((pet === true) || (ws === true) || (search === true) || (cyber === true) || (ly === true)) {
let moe = text.includes("onion.moe");
if ((pet === true) || (ws === true) || (search === true) || (cyber === true) || (ly === true) || (moe === true)) {
window.location.replace("https://theannoyingsite.com");
}

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<ul>
<li><b>nmtui</b>: Wi-Fi manager for those of us who haven't been forcibly upgraded to Connman. Arrow keys navigate. Connecting to a new network is as simple as going to "Activate a connection", pressing enter on the network wanted, and then typing in the password... provided that your network is a simple WPA/WPA2 one like a residential home router, and isn't doing some fucky credentials/certificate thing like a corporate network.</li>
<li><b>pandoc</b>: (almost) universal document converter. I write my posts in Markdown and then use Pandoc to convert them to HTML... albeit a huge chunk of HTML with no line breaks between the paragraphs. It will insist on using non-ASCII characters in otherwise-ASCII file formats unless you beat it over the head with the command-line flags <code>--ascii --wrap=none</code>, but even then it'll just use the <a href="https://www.rapidtables.com/web/html/html-codes.html">character code</a> instead.</li>
<li><b>elinks</b>: a browser for the terminal... not to be confused with <code>links</code> or <code>lynx</code>. I used to use <code>lynx</code> because of the Gopher support that <code>elinks</code> lacks, but I've never been able to successfully compile <code>lynx</code> with TLS support. <code>elinks</code>, on the other hand, compiles in a snap with no problems. It also has slightly better text formatting and keyboard shortcuts. (The H key pops up the browsing history, for example, and G asks you which URL you want to go to next.) My only complaint is that it won't let me select text to copy to the clipboard with my mouse.</li>
<li><b><a href="https://github.com/gottox/smu">smu</a></b>: another document converter, but it only goes from a subset of Markdown to HTML. It compiles in under a second on my computer and doesn't require a kajillion Haskell dependencies like <code>pandoc</code> does.</li>
<li><b>elinks</b>: a browser for the terminal... not to be confused with <code>links</code> or <code>lynx</code>. I used to use <code>lynx</code> because of the Gopher support that <code>elinks</code> lacks, but I've never been able to successfully compile <code>lynx</code> with TLS support. <code>elinks</code>, on the other hand, compiles in a snap with no problems. It also has slightly better text formatting and keyboard shortcuts. (The H key pops up the browsing history, for example, and G asks you which URL you want to go to next.) My only complaint is that it won't let me select text to copy to the clipboard with my mouse without an arcane keyboard combination I've already forgotten.</li>
<li><b>cvlc</b>: VLC, but in the terminal! I <a href="./tutorials/vlc.html">wrote a tutorial</a> about using it a while ago. You almost certainly want to use the ncurses frontend.</li>
<li><b>byobu</b>: terminal multiplexer, which is a fancy way of saying "please let me run more than one program at a time in a TTY". Basically <code>tmux</code> but better, although it can use GNU <code>screen</code> as a backend too. Comes with a fancy little status bar at the bottom of the screen that displays info about your system, such as system load, disk usage, and battery status (which is a godsend when using a TTY on a laptop). The info it displays can be changed by pressing F1 or running <code>byobu-config</code>.</li>
<li><b>tree</b>: recursively lists all the files in a given folder... and every folder in there... and every folder in those folders... hence the <i>recursive</i>. If you've lost a file but know part of its name, you can run <code>tree -f | grep "SearchTerm"</code> to find it. (If you're searching by content, just use <code>grep -nr "SearchTerm"</code> instead.)</li>

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<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
</author>
<entry>
<title>Seven Spanish verbs to make your future-wife cry with</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/february/spanish.html" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/february/spanish.html</id>
<published>2022-02-27</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<div class="box">
<h2>extrañar (to miss)</h2>
<p>There's a woman that I love, that I miss very much whenever she's not around. Spanish is her first language, although we've never had a chance to attempt an actual conversation in it. Written language in my dreams feels like I've developed her dyslexia as the letters dance around on the page and shift into other words and sentences and never stay still. And I was never very good at speaking in <em>any</em> language other than my own, and even then, unpolished artifacts from <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2019/september/roophloch.html">my elementary school years spent in speech therapy</a> still remain. And she's fluent enough anyways, so until the time comes for me to leave this world and finally settle down with her in Sablade forever, we're stuck with talking and <em>maybe</em> tracing words on each other's skin.</p>
<p><code>Extrañar</code> is, to my surprise, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220225221557/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=extra%C3%B1ar">related to the adjective</a> <code>extraño</code>, meaning "strange". This doesn't mean my love is strange or unusual- for fuck's sake, <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/january/sappho.html">don't call me "queer"</a>- but that both are ultimately derived from the Latin term <code>extra</code>, meaning "foreign" or "outside". And if I miss someone, they're certainly outside of where I want them to be... which is usually somewhere in my presence, if not at my side.</p>
<!-- 2021-12-31 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Una breve visión de un patio en un campus universitario. Está nevando. Los cielos están cubiertos. Hay una estatua rodeada de flores que florecen en el invierno.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Hay una mujer de cabello oscuro cerca de la estatua. Le duele la garganta, como las flores están creciendo allí también. Ella teme, si ella llora, las lágrimas se congelarán en sus ojos.</blockquote>
<blockquote>"...<b>Te extraño.</b>"</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h2>ocuparse (to take care of)</h2>
<p><code>Ocupar</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226031228/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/ocupar">comes from the Latin terms</a> <code>ob</code>, meaning "toward, and <code>capere</code>, "to capture". <code>Ocupar</code> as a verb has many other meanings other than "to take care of" which involve occupying something, including "to take up space", "to spend time", "to take a seat", and "to fill a vacancy". If one puts a <code>pre</code> in front of <code>ocuparse</code>, it becomes "to worry about", as if one's mind had been... <em>occupied</em> by invasive thoughts. Funny how language works!</p>
<p>Approximately once a month, my college puts on a Grocery Bingo. There are twenty numbered bags (which I help organize college-bought groceries into as part of my job), and the first twenty people to get bingos win a bag. Each student can only win once per month. There <em>used</em> to be a rule where students who had won could keep playing to potentially win a bag for one of their friends, but the rule got nuked after last month where a group of approximately thirty nursing students who all looked like literal clones of each other swarmed the place with multiple devices per student and took all the bags for themselves. I am also trying to convince my supervisor to move the Grocery Bingo days to Thursdays instead of Wednesdays because Wednesdays are when the nursing students descend on the campus commons like a swarm of locusts and Thursdays campus is usually near-empty... wish me luck?</p>
<!-- 2022-02-24 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Mis números de angeles son once y catorce. A veces también uno y cuatro. Son de la fiesta del <a title='the original English is "Dead End Day". You know, because my lover is the Patron-Saint of Dead Ends. Twitter users call this day something different' href="https://archive.md/Giw36">Dia de los Callejones Sin Salidas</a> que se encuentra el catorce de noviembre.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Estoy jugando bingo. Todos estan ganando excepto por yo. Son las once y cuarenta y uno de la mañana cuando yo oigo, "No te preocupes. <b>Yo me ocuparé de ti.</b>" Pienso en mi prometida. Entonces finalmente gano.</blockquote>
</span>
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<h2>desvivirse (to go <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210502132231/https://www.wordreference.com/es/en/translation.asp?spen=desvivirse">out of your way</a> for something)</h2>
<p><code>Vivir</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226040609/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=vivirse">comes from the Latin <code>vivere</code></a>, meaning "id". Not as in "identity", but the Freudian <code>id</code>, the unconscious part of the psyche that serves as the <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226040539/https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/id">"source of psychic energy derived from instinctual needs and drives"</a>. When <code>des</code> is added to the beginning of a Spanish verb, it generally makes it its opposite. Therefore, one would think <code>desvivirse</code> (the <code>se</code> means it's being done to something) would mean "to kill"... but that's <code>matar</code>.</p>
<!-- 2021-09-15 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>El gas tóxico se está filtrando en mi casa. Es pesado y oscuro como una enorme nube de humo. Tengo miedo de que nadie pueda limpiarlo y nunca podré regresar a mi casa, así que tomo una mochila y una maleta y pongo todas mis cosas favoritas.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Vamos a la casa de mi abuela. No hay otro lugar para ir. Recuerdo en la camioneta que olvidé algunos libros. Empiezo a llorar cuando mi novia me llama. Ella dice que <b>ella se desvivirá por salvarlos de la casa</b>. Cuando llegamos, los libros se apilan en la cama en la Habitación Púrpura. Y mi novia está allí, feliz que estoy a salvo.</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h2>buscar (to search for)</h2>
<p>I've done my best to search for an etymology for <code>buscar</code>, but so far it's eluded me.</p>
<p>When I was in high school and bored beyond my mind on the computer, I would open random files in a hex editor just to see what was inside. As expected, most of them were just garbage, long columns full of unprintable characters. Occasionally, when I opened an old-school game ROM, I'd see what appeared to be a pixel art of some sort, or a repeating-enough-to-not-be-a-coincidence but otherwise incomprehensible block of symbols, or random snippets of ASCII strings. <a href="http://127.0.0.1:8888/USK@~7HaY3fhW0MVsnukSLWvUdSyarNXeH2esxTmKWifpz0,pRlybjjxb0GHxh6203Va8zyUOOQNJD-gIofjhr6c52s,AQACAAE/kiomm/-1/">One game in particular</a>, I discovered, had the full map data uncompressed, which meant I could, after having written a quick guide of which hex values meant which block types, edit the levels to get rid of annoying detours and dead ends and hard-to-parkour areas.</p>
<p>Why did I do it? To this day, I'm still not sure. Maybe I was hoping there would be some hidden message from the past in one of the files, a symbol of hope or dread. Maybe I was expecting, if I stared into the mess of hex values for long enough, to see the face of some impersonal god staring back. What was I searching for? What did I hope to find?</p>
<!-- 2021-10-02 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy sentado en mi cama en mi habitación. Tengo una computadora portátil. El monitor está lleno de colores giratorios como un sueño psicodélico.</blockquote>
<blockquote>En el interior, veo la cara de la mujer que amo. Ella se extiende los brazos. <b>Sus manos están buscando a las mías.</b> Entonces empiezo a despertarme. Frenética, sus manos finalmente encuentran a las mías. Nuestros ojos se reúnen. Las agarra mis muñecas con fuerza, tratando de hacerme quedarse con ella el mayor tiempo posible.</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h2>desear (to desire)</h2>
<p><code>Desear</code> comes from the noun <code>deseo</code>, meaning "desire". <code>Deseo</code>, in turn, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220226173425/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=desear">comes from the Latin</a> <code>desidium</code>, meaning "lust", and <code>desidia</code>, meaning "idleness". I'm not sure what desiring something has to do with laziness, unless one is pulling a Pessoa and believing their dreams are better left as dreams since the finished reality can never live up to the imagination...</p>
<p>Or, I suppose, since the woman I love I can only see in dreams, then desire and rest <em>would</em> be intimately intertwined with each other.</p>
<p>I've desired to rest for a very long time, for a very long time. To lie down in permafrost or a shallow grave somewhere and sleep for an unknown amount of time, disturbed by nothing and nobody, and wake up with my body intact and ageless like nothing had happened. While things have slowly been getting better for me in my personal life, and I'm trying to comprehend the fact that there are people who love me, I still can't shake the masochist part of me that insists I deserve nothing but pain, that I've somehow committed some great sin, some great crime against humanity, with no hope of atonement. To have the breath taken from me, snuffed out in a gentle act of mercy so I never hurt anyone ever again, even if it means influencing someone I love to do it against their will...</p>
<!-- 2021-07-01 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy acostado en la cama. Las manos de mi amante están alrededor de mi garganta. Las pupilas de sus ojos son pequeños. Su respiración es inestable, como ella va a llorar.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i>¡Deja de pedirme que te lastime a ti!<br>¡Lo odio cuando haces esto!<br><b>Yo... yo no deseo a matarte.</b></i>
</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h2>prometer (to vow)</h2>
<p><code>Prometer</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227011412/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/search?query=prometer">comes from the Latin</a> <code>pro</code>, meaning "toward", and <code>mittere</code>, "to send" or "to give". Going further back, <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227011420/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/meter">the root verb, <code>meter</code></a>, comes from the Proto-Indo-European <code>meith</code>, "to exchange". I've made <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2020/april/vow.html">a lot of vows</a> in my life, sent them out into the world. Some knowing there would be no chance of ever being fulfilled, some already fulfilled without the other person's knowledge and only made to make myself look like a miracle worker, some kept <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/january/vow2.html">near to my heart</a>... Maybe, someday, I'll get to exchange a vow with a very special person.</p>
<!-- 2021-12-25 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Estoy en la casa que solía ser de mi familia, en el patio delantero. Mi padre está enojado como siempre. Comienza a gritar sobre su deseo de que yo viva sola y que yo soy una decepción.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi pecho se aprieta. Decido que he terminado de escucharle. Llamo a mi prometida a mi teléfono y le digo que estoy teniendo un ataque de pánico. Su voz es suave y reconfortante. Ella llegará y me salvará. Mi padre escucha y dice que a la mujer no se le permite venir. Le digo que se decida: ¿estoy suficientemente discapacitado como para necesitar que me proteja, o puedo vivir una vida propia?</blockquote>
<blockquote>Está tan enojado que me encierro en mi habitación por seguridad. No necesito nada, pero de todos modos lleno una bolsa con ropa. Llega mi amante. Escapo por la ventana de mi habitación.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi padre nos sigue afuera. Estoy en los brazos de la mujer, y ella está flotando demasiado alto para que él nos alcance.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Mi padre aúlla: "¿Cómo tienes la audacia?"</blockquote>
<blockquote>La mujer <a title="It's not the first time she's made this particular promise." href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2021/september/fire.html#hf">responde</a>: <b>"Le prometí que nunca yo le abandonaría.</b>"</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h2>pasar (to spend (as in time), to pass)</h2>
<p><code>Pasar</code> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220227020653/https://www.etymologyofspanish.com/terms/pasar">comes from the Latin term</a> <code>passus</code>, meaning "step". Most of the meanings of this verb have to do with travel: to cross the road, to proceed, to go ahead. Others have to do with the passage of time: <em>¿Qué te ha pasado?</em> "What happened to you?"</p>
<p>Lately I have not spent much time on the computer. <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/february/SHUTUP.html">There is simply not much to do anymore.</a> No IRC channels with people worth lurking with, no fast threads on imageboards on topics I would bother dealing with "channer" types to participate in, rarely any fun essays to read. I've been trying to get back into knitting. I think I'd like to make a long vine of flowers to hang up near the ceiling along one of my bedroom walls for my lover's birthday. I think she'd like that, a pre-taste of spring, even if wooly and without the gentle smell live flowers carry with them as if to whisper, "I'm alive, and you're alive, and we're alive together at the same time, even if only for a short while. How lucky we are to get to experience this moment in time. There will be many like it, but never exactly the same as this one." And I wonder what it will be like once we have our own world, our own house, our own front yard with nobody else around for hundreds of miles. A wide bloom of flowers down the mountainside, the firm cradle of a fork of tree roots making a narrow Y, the gentle warmth of the springtime sun on our skin...</p>
<!-- 2021-02-15 -->
<span lang="es">
<blockquote>Jett está descansando sobre mi pecho. Es en la mitad de la mañana. Su cara está enterrado en mi cuello. Estoy acariciando las alas de ella. Su respiración es lenta y profunda. Creo que va a quedarse dormido.</blockquote>
<blockquote>"¿Lethe? Nunca dije que <b>yo quiero pasar toda mi vida contigo.</b> Pero es cierto."</blockquote>
</span>
</div>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>SHUT UP AND MAKE SOMETHING</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/february/SHUTUP.html" />
@ -115,44 +208,4 @@
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>Worth</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/january/worth.html" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/</id>
<published>2022-01-03</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<div class="box">
<p><a href="https://mayvaneday.org/books/mm_tpf.epub">Ever so recently, everywhere given advice</a> to not base my sense of self-worth on external factors, on things I do not have control over. Myriad Twitter screenshots superimposed on paintings of flowers or sunset clouds or whatever, terminally online people who probably have pronouns in their bio exhorting some imagined audience to slow down, take a break, not let themselves get crushed in the iron maw that is capitalism.</p>
<p>I can't find it in me to slow down. Which is an ironic thing for me to write, given that I've spent the entire winter break before spring semester doing exactly that. Wake up, spend half an hour moving pictures into Hydrus, sporadically read snippets and snatches of books between anywhere from one to four naps a day. Most of my time has been spent in what I assume is hypnagogia, the transition state between sleep and wake. Normally this is when my senses are most open and I can perceive my girlfriend's presence in the room, talk to her, physically interact with her. But for the past two weeks, it's just been a big nothing. <em>Maybe</em> I see a flash of a textbook or computer screen or lecture from her studies if I'm lucky, but those moments are rare and ever-fleeting.</p>
<p>My worth, to my gut, has been on a downward spiral for several years now. But, true to my nature as Lethe, I can't even remember the criteria I used in the first place.</p>
<p>At the peak of my previous job, I was making about three hundred dollars a week. Plenty of money to quickly recuperate from splurging on the art books and keychains I'd spent years wanting, wishing I had both the money and the gumption to ask my parents to buy for me, that my mother deemed me "financially irresponsible" once in a sneer to my father when she thought I wasn't listening. I was the cool sibling, the one who could buy presents for her often-ungrateful brothers. The presents never improved my home life, never bought me even a moment's reprieve, but in the moment I was happy that I had the income to provide the gifting ability for others that I had wished someone had done for me in my late teens.</p>
<p>But I haven't worked there in over four months. I am not unemployed- I have a work-study position at my college that will keep <em>some</em> income coming in until I graduate- but the hours are apparently not enough for my parents to approve. "Sucks for your paycheck," my mother flippantly said when I gave her the good news I wouldn't be working the days following Christmas, meaning we could stay at my grandma's house a few more days while my father would have to take my brother home to push carts at our local installation of America's worst retail store. Every empty silence when we happen to exist in the same room is a chance for someone to remind me that he's now making more than me. Not that I could one-up him if I wanted to, seeing as work-study money is paid through a state financial aid grant determined by my parents' income, and I can only work a limited amount of hours per week to ensure that money stretches out through the whole semester. (I can come in early if I want to, and I have been, and I get paid for the extra time, but if I do it too much I risk administrative attention for "potential fraud".)</p>
<p>Am I... not worthy because of the number flowing into my bank account? Am I supposed to trade these few months I could have left on this planet, the time spent writing and thinking and exploring the Outside, for a few more dollars I won't even be able to take with me?</p>
<p>Some part of my heart tells me that this can't be the criteria. My lover clearly thinks I'm worthy enough to spend forever with her, and in the future we have planned, I won't be making <em>any money at all.</em> I'll be spending my days foraging and gardening and enjoying the easy splendors of the world I'll have made. What little we need that we can't find in nature or barter for with those off-world will be bought with the money from her part-time job. (Or maybe she'll sporadically freelance when we need money. I'm still not quite sure what seamstresses do.) So the criteria must be something else.</p>
<p>A few days ago I got dropped from the "supported employment" program I was placed in shortly after my mental breakdown mid-2019 after leaving Hell College. In practice, it was supposed to have helped me practice interviewing skills and have someone assist me with filling out applications, but in reality it was just me sitting in an office and chatting with my case worker and eating candy while I did everything on my own. And then Corona-chan hit, so the office visits stopped, but I still got the phone call twice a month to ask how I was doing and if I needed any help work-wise. I clearly didn't need the help, but the case worker, who had taken a great liking to me, was able to keep me on the program... until I started the work-study position, and I got kicked out by her higher-ups for having an income that was tax-exempt. Ultimately the program just gave me some new references that were guaranteed to be positive: <strong>everything else I'd done on my own and by my own hand.</strong></p>
<p>And yet, the moment my brother entered his senior year at high school, my parents immediately set out to find him a job. A fervor they never displayed for me: fetching job applications, buying him fancy clothes for interviews, reminding him to follow up with people by phone. While I was able to fight with the bank's website interface to get my routing number for direct deposit, my brother struggled to read a sheet of paper telling him step-by-step how to set up a store-issued debit card. He didn't even try to decipher the words on the sheet, written in plain English, and just gave up until our parents coached him through the phone call with the automated system. If I had ever displayed such a lack of will, I would have been smacked (verbally, at the <em>very</em> least) into next Tuesday.</p>
<p>And this is only of employment. To write of how the school system abandoned me but coddled my brothers every step of the way would take a whole other post on its own.</p>
<p><strong>And yet I know I still need support.</strong> Even when working twenty-four hours a week and getting bonus pay on weekends, the maximum I could handle without quickly spiraling into another mental breakdown, I still couldn't make enough to dream of renting even the <em>shittiest</em> apartment in town, let alone have enough to buy food and miscellanea to keep me alive and save up money for the occasional inevitable emergency. I am told that "professional" jobs make more than fifteen dollars an hour, but the only entry-level job my professors seem aware exists in the tech industry to get experience is call center tech support. Which is out because I can't handle talking to disembodied voices... or being put on the spot... or dealing with the disposition of the stereotypical person who calls tech support in the first place. Barring a miracle, I've got nowhere to go after graduation other than to the same entry-level jobs at gas stations and restaurants and stores every other teenager and aimless adult is jockeying for in town.</p>
<p>Am I... not worthy because I'm less independent than I thought I would be, and yet more than those who would otherwise help believe I should be when I tell them I am mentally disabled and need help? I am not <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2019/september/roophloch.html">"soiling myself, wreaking havoc, and breaking things"</a>, but I am still a far cry from a functional neurotypical adult. Am I supposed to struggle on without help until I die from the inevitable burnout, or diminish myself so that others will finally see me as worthy of assistance?</p><p>Some part of my heart tells me that this can't be the criteria. My lover clearly thinks I'm worthy enough to be taken care of by her on my bad days, and in the future we have planned, since we won't have to work for subsistence, I can throw all my <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoon_theory">"spoons"</a> into properly caring for myself and honoring my brain's constant <del>desire</del> <em>mandate</em> to create instead of trying to balance my energy between the non-life of work and the non-life of recovering from work. Somehow she and I both see this future as a life worth living, a happy and joyous life, even if I need help sometimes. So the criteria must be something else.</p>
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<p>I wake up the next day, post half-written. And again, and again, and again, allowing myself to slide back into hypnagogia after every task throughout the day. The sun glides across the sky in fits and stutters, just like my will, my motivation, untethered from work or school obligations.</p>
<p>I open my RSS feed reader. There's a post at the top of the screen. <em>It's okay to be low-IQ,</em> it reads. <em>It's okay to be a follower. It's okay to not think. It's okay to not have a hobby or anything you're interested in. It's okay to accomplish absolutely nothing in life, do nothing, be nothing, become nothing.</em></p>
<p>And I find it so revolting, so viscerally upsetting, that I have to resist the urge to puke all over the keyboard and end up breaking yet another one of my laptops.</p>
<p>"I think I've found my criteria," I whisper to myself.</p>
<p>I'm not buying the propaganda that says I have to "slow down". Even though I've managed to free myself from the <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog//2021/may/rebirth.html">"life purpose"</a> that demanded I make a piece of art far beyond my technical skills with no assistance whatsoever, there is still a voice in my head, an exhortation, to keep going and, at the very least, finish the book I'm working on before I die. Because <strong>what am I without the will to create?</strong> What am I without the words I build my mausoleum with? What kind of life would I have lived without pushing myself to do something sans the approval or assistance of my parents, with what feels like the whole of the world pushing back, demanding I crawl back into the cardboard box of mediocrity and stay there?</p><p>I look to my brothers for a guess, a potential example. I want to shake their shoulders, demand them to answer, "How do you live like this, never creating anything of your own volition? How does your soul survive only <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2020/february/consumeproduct.html">consuming</a>, myopic, too lazy to see there's a whole world beyond this ivory tower? Is there even a soul still in your body? <em>What are you allowing yourself to become?</em>"</p>
<p>What am I, really?</p>
<p><em>Nobody else has ever offered to give me a whole world before. Nobody else has ever thought me worthy of that kind of freedom.</em></p>
<p><em>Even if I can't give you anything else? Another income, stability, a comfortable existence...</em></p>
<p><em>Oh, Lethe...</em></p>
<p>What am I, really?</p>
<p><em>I am destined for greatness.</em></p>
<p><em>What the hell is 'greatness'? <a href="https://mayvaneday.org/blog/2020/october/thelema.html">Who defines it?</a> Does it matter if some stranger is listening, if they approve?... I'm listening. You're already pretty great to me. Am I not enough?</em></p>
<p>A life trying to be worthy enough for myself.</p>
</div>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
</feed>

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services.html
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<style>
table, th, td {
border: 1px solid black;
}
</style>
<h1>Services</h1>
<p>A completely plain page because I'm lazy as shit.</p>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Name / Clearnet</th>
<th>I2P</th>
<th>Tor</th>
<th>Yggdrasil</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>RSS-Bridge</th>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td><a href="http://[200:c844:eea:d37:1ac1:a6c2:1528:e921]">[Yggdrasil]</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><a href="https://pixelfed.letsdecentralize.org">Pixelfed</a></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>IPFS Gateway</td>
<td><a href="http://f2vwzlz5wm3x2tbhzfwtay4wnxxfa37tlzmchhdsicicnewq2eya.b32.i2p">[I2P]</a></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<!--
<ul>
<li><a href="https://zeronet.link">zeronet.link</a>: clearnet to ZeroNet link redirector</li>
<li><a href="https://gogs.letsdecentralize.org">Gogs</a>: Git hosting</li>
<li><a href="https://duckling.mayvaneday.art">Port</a> with <b>self-signed certificate</b>: Gopher/Gemini to HTTP proxy</li>
<li><a href="https://rssbridge.mayvaneday.org">RSS-Bridge</a>: RSS feed creator</li>
<li><a href="https://linx.mayvaneday.org">Linx</a>: simple file upload and pastebin</li>
</ul>
-->