[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

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The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.

[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Mao on June 21st, 2010, 2:16 am

Dude that's a sweet pad. D: And the newspaper floor looked AWESOME. I dunno, maybe that's just me. Hurry and finish and post more pictures! Your house looks so cute and cozey! <3
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Satu on September 19th, 2010, 6:54 am

Cayenne!

A little song in honor of you! And also a big yaya for your new house! (Hopefully you got in there today!)

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Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither.
~William Wordsworth, Intimations of Immortality

Signature Credit goes to:
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catskullcollector.deviantart.com
and the ever lovely and helpful Hex for putting it all together!
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Cayenne on October 1st, 2010, 1:52 am

Well, I am more or less moved in. I'll have pictures as soon as I can find my BlackBerry cable - I'm pretty sure it's in one of the boxes in my laundry room.

But how's life?

In a word, busy.

I'm rushing at work to try to get my major project of the year done at work (namely, preparation of year end), working on my second job (accountant/bookkeeper for my friend's corporation some three hours north of me), getting the house worked on and settled into it. There's still a metric ton to be done, and a couple dozen (yes, a couple dozen) more boxes to unpack, even though I've been in for two weeks now, but I just got internet last Friday.

My grandfather had a stroke last Sunday, so that's been consuming great amounts of my time and energy - between worrying about him and going to see him, and going and visiting his companion in the retirement community she's staying in while he recuperates in the hospital (he's progressing well - the doctors are happy so far, and they're saying the word "stable" a lot, so that makes me feel so much better)... let's just say that I've been better.

So that being said, if people are wondering why the hell I'm not posting or lurking in chat a lot, that is why. I'm emotionally and mentally drained, and currently, I have two macaws fighting over me, literally and figuratively, with two dogs getting into trouble to get my attention because I haven't been walking them - before the big move, I managed to pull and strain the muscles in my right knee... and only compounded the problem by being extremely active leading up to and during the move. My cousin, a massage therapist, hasn't given me the go-ahead to start powerwalking my two giant-ass mutts, so.

But on the flip side of things... I am out from underneath the intense cloud of soul-killing negativity that surrounded my parents' house. I see them when I go to work or if I go over there, or if they come over here... but we're no longer forced to interact 24/7 any more. I can talk to my mother on MSN, which is great, or through texting on the phone, which is all I need, really. I can eat the meals I want when I want them, I can record what I want and watch it when I want (which, seriously, was a precious commodity at the parentals' house)... but best of all.. I have my own space. I have my pack (Grady and Outlaw), I have my flock (Mickey, Gabby, Java, Max, and Cadbury), and I have my herd (Caromel, Mohawk, and Spike). There's no longer the tension from my family and my animals (my dad didn't get along with anything but Outlaw and Mickey, really, and sometimes not even then, for example).

To use an oxymoron, but an appropriate one... I'm spreading my wings by putting down roots. And I cannot express how good that really feels.
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Hex on October 1st, 2010, 3:40 pm

I can't tell you how enthused I am by this giant transformation you have gone through. I have loved watching you grow out from under the wing of your parents and seek your independence. I am happy to see things have smoothed out in terms of communicating with them, you really did need your own space. I am so estatic for you Mish, honestly! Now you can really blossom after being stifled for so long!
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Hex on October 23rd, 2010, 9:54 pm

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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Cayenne on November 22nd, 2010, 11:00 pm

An update.

Still no pictures. I promise I'll get them up, even if I have to borrow my mom's digicam to take pictures. My own isn't working very well.

The house is good, and I love being on my own. it's a sty right now (albeit mostly dog hair, because I haven't been vacuuming as much as I should be), what with stuff that's been transplanted from my mom's house and my grandfather's apartment to here. After his first stroke, he started talking about going into long-term nursing care, so we gave notice on his apartment. That's a whole other can of worms, but it's a reason I hate my mother's sister with an unending passion. I could say so many, many things and none of them NC17 about my aunt, and many people have heart me call her a LOT of things.

But that's another story.

I'm writing this scrapbook because I've been thinking about it for a while, about posting an update, letting people know what's going on and what's happening.

And now I'm writing it because I want to record it.

Trouble always comes in threes.

The first one...

My grandfather's strokes have been eating away at his brain...leaving him with fluctuating vascular dementia that has been spiraling out of control. He remembers my mother and me, but he doesn't recognize my mother's sister or her oldest daughter. The doctors aren't optimistic that he'll make it to Christmas. He had a good visit with his brother and sister that he was closest to, though, and he seems to have had some improvement since. Still doesn't recall Aunt Ditz, though.

The second one...

One of my good friends, that I've known for years and years and years, died last week from cancer. She was diagnosed with it months ago, had a double mastectomy to try to beat it, but it was too little, too late. The cancer spread to her organs and was basically eating her alive. So I said goodbye to her last week... and felt relief that she's not hurting any more, because the last stages, even with the painkillers... she was hurting, and she was hurting badly.

The third thing... and the one I was waiting on...

I came home from work today to find that one of my guinea pigs, Caromel, had died during the day while I was at work. He was fine this morning - nothing that I could see was wrong with him, and I have no idea what happened. He's been eating great, he's been drinking fine, and the other two, aside from grieving, are in good health. Caromel was the biggest sucky pig ever. I called him my "pancake pig" because of his huge ass and the way he flattened himself down to cuddle with you. He was the pig who sang me to sleep when his cage was in my room, he was the pig who came running over to greet me in the morning when I woke up. He was the pig who was the first one to demand cuddles when I picked them up, and a little gentleman when he got his veggies and fruit... and I'm going to miss him terribly.

So if I'm quiet, miserable, and in general snappish, I apologize in advance. I know you have to roll with the punches, but right now I don't feel at all like even trying to duck.

Pigtures.

From left to right, Spike, Caromel, and Mohawk.
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"I'm the boss!" "No! I am!" "I LOVE YOU, MAN!"
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"Pssst. We gotta get out of here." "No, she's gone to get the kale. I'm not leaving without my kale!"
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"We're totally plotting. But you didn't see SHIT!"
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Siiri on November 23rd, 2010, 12:18 am

Aww, I'm sorry Cay. *huggleses and huggleses*

But them's are cutie piggles. :)
Apologies to everyone I'm threading with, but it's like the Danaides for me right now.
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Cayenne on April 2nd, 2011, 4:19 pm

Been a long time since I posted here. Got some things on my mind that I'm going to try to get out. I've also got something that has been eating at me since last night that I paced around thinking about, that I thought about when I went to bed, that I thought about this morning, and that I'm still thinking about right now. But we'll get to that. A few other things.

Before proceeding, I warn you all that are reading this that this scrapbook post contains the f-bomb. And there will probably be a lot of them. And while this is a long, rambly post, I promise you that I am sober, but the camel's back has been broken.

What's happening with me?

Gramps made it to a nursing home. But he is continuing to have these ministrokes, and he is getting further and further away. I had a long talk earlier in the week with my departed grandmother (laugh if you want to, but I firmly believe that the spirits are there) about him... and I basically begged her to take him home now. That night, she would not let me sleep. I got the impression that she was trying, and he was trying, but there's something blocking it, something he cannot let go of, and I didn't catch what. I think it's that he needs to see one of my cousins, or some more of his siblings (which is far more likely, if you ask me) before he can let go. The last time it was like this, my grandfather had his first stroke last spring that rendered him unable to drive. Then I had another dream a few months later, in September 2010, and my grandmother told me she was worried about my grandfather. Within the week, he had the stroke that ended his life as he knew it, and sent him to the hospital.

Most of you probably don't know this, but I have been going up after work every day to go help my grandfather with his dinner - some nights he doesn't need it, but some days he does -- like if they have lasagna... oi, it gets messy. I came down with the stomach superbug that's been going around my city on Wednesday, my day off, and so I haven't been able to go see my granddad for a couple days. I'm going to take the weekend off from going up there to make sure it's well and truly gone, and then I'll go back up on Monday. What does that mean in relation to this scrapbook post and what I've been thinking about earlier? I promise you there's a point. I'll get to it.

I work for a small business in Ontario, and the law here affirms jobs as rights - they basically say you can't fire someone without just cause. Just cause, here, means you must have three documented writeups of the same kind (like, say, someone loses their shit at you and storms out of the office, you can write them up for being unprofessional). Three shots at that, you can let them go and they cannot sue you through the Ministry of Labour. My parents, never saw the clusterfuck coming, and therefore, never wrote her up like they should have to cover their tracks.

Work has been this apprehensive mix of hell for the last month and a half with a coworker. However, I think it's going to get worse. Why? The security cameras are being installed next week. She is going to lose her shit, and she's going to lose it at me. Why at me? Because my family, whom I work with - parents and brother (although he's still in school, but he starts working full time at the end of June) - are going to our condo in FL for three weeks. They're driving. Essentially? They're gone for a goddamn month, and I am left in the lion's cage with coworker from hell. We're hoping that with the cameras, the fact that she is being told, FLAT OUT this year, that *I* am in charge, and my uncle, whom she hates and she hates him because he puts up with none of her bullshit whatever, will be coming in randomly to help me keep her in line, she is going to be on better behaviour than she has for past years. Time will tell. I'm not confident. However, I swear to god now that I am an officer of the company - I am through with her jerking my chain and treating me like garbage when my parents are not there. I will write her ass up every time she starts screaming at me, and we'll see how much she likes those apples. I'd REALLY prefer it didn't get to that point, because I am going to need her, at the end of the month, to start calling a greenhouse for me because I am not driving out on a daily basis to find out if they have my trees.

What trees, you ask? Because of consistent nagging from my mother, from Jen, who is a gardening fanatic, and from this new homeowner instinct to make my house look nice, I am going to try gardening. I do not like it. I have never had any luck with gardens or growing things in my life. My grandmother, who had the greenest thumbs in Canada (in my opinion... she could grow anything, seriously) is probably smiling and laughing about this (And telling me to clean my kitchen!), but I am trying to grow things. I baiscally have a plan to have a herb garden and some normal gardens, but I am not digging up my back yard, because I know my dogs. But what started this whole trainwreck of gardening was the fact that I have been lusting after a dwarf Meyer lemon tree. This has grown to wanting to grow fresh herbs so I can eat them whenever the hell I want, and some other things. We'll see how that goes when they get here. Now, about the trees. In North America, without specialized documents that get pricey, you cannot import plants, including fruit, across the borders. So you cannot take a lemon tree, for example, from the US into Canada, and you cannot take, say, raspberry cane from Canada into the US. Does that suck? Yes it does, but I understand why. It's also probably part of the high-technology border. Jen, I can hear you laughing across the damn continent. But anyway, my greenhouse/seedhouse where I put in my big order, and the produce markets around here, do not have my goddamn lemon trees. So I have to wait until the end of April, first of May, to start calling another place that should have them then, and then I will procure two of the damn things so I can be enroute to lemony goodness in my own house.

Hobbies. Good topic, yeah?

When I first started working on Mizahar, I didn't really have many. I had school and work (and eventually just work when I finished school, thank fucking god), writing here, writing occasionally on another forum (which I happily gave up), writing my own stories, and writing in some real-time chats, both as a player and as the storyteller, once a week (sometimes twice), in addition to the dogs, the pigs, and the birds. I had lacrosse in the summer. That was really it. Writing, writing, and more writing. I wasn't really taking care of myself. I spent a godawful amount of time in front of a screen. I fell out of reading except that what I needed to read for the writing. I put on weight (and this, let me tell you, is a scary thing when you were already my size).

But the important thing is is that I was doing a lot of writing. A lot of people have their different theories on writing and how we do it and what works for them, but my theory is is that if I don't write a lot, I fall out of doing it, and then it is forced, it doesn't feel right to me, and I find other things to take its place that do feel right at the time. If I am not writing what I want to write, I am not going to write it. Oh, that doesn't mean I won't try - I'll sit there and stare at it, type some words, and try to force it out, and at the end of the day it's an alien bunch of crap that doesn't sound or look right to me, and I don't want to do any more writing right about then, even writing I wanted to do before.

So over the last year - it's been almost a year now since I bought my house, which is kind of freaking amazing to me - I fell out of the habit of writing. I got busy. I had things that were, quite honestly, more important that I had to get done before I could sit down and write. I had to go and walk the dogs, I had to get out and in the air. I had to put up drywall, I had to cook, I had to vacuum. I had to help clean my grandfather's once I finally got settled into my own house, and as a result, several months after I moved in, my own library is still not put together - the futon is still in the box, and I have probably twenty boxes in my library, in my bedroom, my laundry room, and in my front hall that still need to be unpacked. I used to be able to sit down and write, and write, and write, because I loved it and it was really all I did.

And at the same time, I don't think I was really, and truly happy with myself when that was all I did. When Jen did a spread for me the summer I visited her, I had ten swords stabbing, which is almost as bad as it can get, and that really kind of confirmed a feeling that I was not happy. Because I took a step back, I went outside, I put away a box of things, I took the dogs on a walk, I discovered beading from Jen when I went to see her and Gillar, and, quite frankly, I've discovered books again. Charles W. Eliot said "Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers." When I was a kid growing up, I preferred the company of books to the company of people. I had more fun in a corner of a library than I did being around other children. But I've gone back to m books, even if it's only a book here, or a book there. I'm going to learn chainmaille when my order gets here, and I am going to damn well have fun doing it.

What does my day look like?

Up at 6:30. Feed the dogs. Let the dogs out. Make lunch. Feed and water the birds and the pigs. Make breakfast. Go to work. Work for 8-9 hours. To up to the nursing home to help and visit my grandfather. Come home. Might be 6, might be later. Let the dogs out. Feed the dogs. Greet the birds and sing to the pigs. See about doing some stuff around the house that needs to be done. Eat dinner. Might be 7:30, might be 8 by now. Am braindead. Am tired. Am about ready to go back to bed. See about doing the dishes, probably put off until tomorrow. One person, no big deal. Sit down, with one or two parrots, and try to write if I feel like it, or just leave the laptop off and watch some TV. Sometimes I'll play a game on my desktop. Go to bed.

What does entertaining parrots have to do with writing? If you have never had parrots, you have no idea what they are like, particularly the macaws. They are not happy just being with you, they want to be doing what you are doing. Case in point: I was folding laundry this morning and singing country music, I had one macaw balanced on my left shoulder, humming and mumbling along with me, and my minimacaw hanging from the neck of my t-shirt, directly in front of my face. Mickey, on my shoulder, would go down to my wrist. Gabby would bite the t-shirts as I'm folding them. These are smart, intelligent birds that need to be engaged on an hourly basis, because if they are not, they will make their own trouble. Mickey, for example, is a shredder, and that comes from when he had to go into quarantine. If he feels I am ignoring him, he will take a feather, AND RIP IT OFF. Gabby just hates your guts when you put off spending time with her, and hell hath no fury like a macaw that is slighted. It has taken me months to get her to warm up to me again to the point where she will come out readily and often to see me. Her good graces are hard to get into, and they are harder to stay in. So if I leave her in her cage while I try to write, she gets pissed. If I have her out, she will want to be ON MY KEYBOARD, because hey, it's doing what I'm doing, no?

What's the point of all of this?

I refuse to let writing consume my life any more. I refuse to let the dramas, which seem enormous and all-consuming at the time, but are in the grand scheme of things small and petty and just fucking stupid leave me a wreck that has me laying in bed, staring at the ceiling going "Oh. My. God. How did it get to this? How did this HAPPEN?" It's not just on Mizahar - my weekend roleplaying group imploded because of a ton of bullshit that is neither here nor there. I don't think I've done any personal writing in my journal in a very long time either.

So here's something that's going to probably piss people off: I, and the other founders and moderators, are not someone's personal fucking robots that mindlessly churn out posts. My time is limited. I, and everyone else, has a life, and chances are, they are busy. I do not have time to take on EVERY SINGLE THREAD idea that someone brings to me, and I have told people, flat out recently, that no, I do not want to write out a thread idea they have, and I explain why. Maybe it's not up my alley. Maybe it's not my thing. Maybe it's just something that's not going to work. I have had people on more than one occasion, tell me that they want to bring their brand-spanking new character with a few points in combat, none in survival, wants to come into Falyndar, thumb their noses at the Myrians, and get away unscathed. Some people would say that a really good moderator could come up with a way for that to work in this setting. Divine intervention. Dhani hunters form a distraction. Whatever.

It doesn't work that way. And when I try to explain to them it doesn't work that way, that's when they tell me that I don't have the power to kill their character.

I don't have what?

I don't like moderators who go on a power-tripping frenzy just because they can. I would really hate it when moderators go totally apeshit on my character(s) and rain down an epic shitstorm on me that was unprovoked. But for every action, there is a reaction. I made Falyndar this way, this way that apparently so many, many people think is unfair and difficult for people to access because that was my original vision. We wanted a post-apocalyptic world because we were tired of people taking a dangerous setting and watering it down so that you could basically sing and dance along the roads and not get jumped by someone desperate enough to kill you because life is hard and there are less fortunate who understand people think the roads are safe. I made a dangerous jungle that is also dangerous for the people who live there because that is what I wanted to write. I wanted a wildlife that is dangerous and will fucking eat you because you were careless. This is fantasy, and this is one of _my_ fantasies. The only thing that keeps me from being a player in my area is that I do not have time right now. Otherwise I'd make a nasty Constrictor after I flesh out Zinrah and go on a bloodthirsty rampage. (Why a Constrictor? Because my Myrian NPCs sometimes seem like limited PCs to me, and I enjoy them very much when I get to use them. Love my Myri, I really do...)

Furthermore, with an election going on right now in Canada (which really brings all the crazies to the yard), I really am hating the culture of entitlement that I'm seeing in the world today, where people want everything for nothing. It's this 'gimme gimme gimme, I don't want to work for it, just gimme' attitude that bugs me to death. I went to school. I went into something that a lot of people cannot understand or believe that someone would willingly do it. But I was smart enough to know that my career choice was something that would always be usable, no matter when the economy tanks, because economies always tank, and that I was fucking good at it. School isn't the end-all, be-all any more - universities and colleges are fast losing credibility because of these 'jobs of the future' crap. My brother is going into the trades, and it's a good choice for him. He's good at it, he's got a business to walk into, but the point is, we have to work at it. We work, and we don't complain about working, because, like it or hate it, that is the way the world works.

You can't escape the culture of entitlement, even online. Some people expect moderators to read their minds and get what they want out of having left the most cryptic or no clues. If someone sends me a PM and says, "Hey, can you run a thread for me?" and I ask them what they have in mind, and they do not get back to me on that, I am not going to chase them down about it. The place in the queue is forfeited. I'm through with doing that. I reserve the right to pick what I want to moderate, because it's not fair to the player (or to myself, or to the other people who patiently (you know who you are, and I love you for it) wait for me to post,) for me to say yes to something I don't want to do, am not going to have fun doing, and find more of a chore that is going to sit on the back burner and is going to, as I said before, turn me off of writing.

So now, I am slowly, slowly getting back into writing. I am getting my character(s) caught up, though one only has one thread, and the other is almost caught up (ha, almost. By almost, most people haven't been waiting for a post from her for over a month), and so I am slowly getting to my moderated threads, and I am being choosy about them. I will take my time at it, and I will write what I want to write when I want to write.

I don't rant much. But what most people don't see and don't know is that I have this nasty, volatile temper that comes from both sides of my family, but I really take after my dad. We will put up with vast quantities of bullshit, and we will be calm about it and keep a level head. And then all of a sudden, one more piece of straw goes on the camel's load, and the poor bugger's back breaks. This is my temper. I will explode.

Busy day planned, so long as the weather holds. My grandmother was not impressed with the state of my kitchen, and I am going to rectify that... Time to do some dishes.
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Gossamer on April 2nd, 2011, 5:02 pm

Dear Mish.

First off... I love you. I love that your scrapping again too. I can't imagine how hard this year has been for you with work, your grandfather, buying a new house, remodeling it, and all the stuff I know about you didn't talk about in your scrap. I think you have a lot of courage and are doing incredibly well given what you have to work with. What people also don't know is how much you've grown over the last year - and I can see it clearly like an older sis looking on at a younger one with nothing but pride. You didn't tell people you've been going to a nutritionist, eating right, working out, and have lost a ton of weight. You didn't tell people how everyone in your life just depends on you to be there and you always manage to do so. You didn't talk about coaching, or mediating family issues, or how you have been actually out in the field helping on the weekends during all that harsh frozen weather when your family needed extra hands because the work was phenomenally piled sky high.

I'm glad you are writing again. I'm also glad you are reading again. You are one of the people I absolutely have no qualms about sharing my love of books with because you understand how they never betray you when you decide to put one down for a different one... and how they forgive you when you cry on them or laugh over them or rage at something that happens in them and fling them across the room.

Books are love.

Plants are love too. Like you are minding your body, gardening will help with that but moreso it will tend your soul as well. There's something beautiful about the world when you are surrounded with things you have grown yourself. I will post a list up of seeds I have available too.. and when you get brave enough, I'll send you some and some petri dishes to germinate them with. If you start out small or easy - herbs are easy but not always the big kicker of a reward... you'll find yourself loving life all the more. Since your talking with your grandmother so much these days too about your grandfather, ask her to help you with gardening while she waits around for him to decide its time to go. And while we are on that topic, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I hope he passes soon. I know hes been terribly sick, doesn't want to be here anymore, and is going downhill daily on a spiral that has left him bound to a bed or a wheelchair for months now. Sometimes its just time. I hope he has a speedy trip.

I'm glad you are getting back into writing. Take your time. Be choosy with your threads. Don't let anyone tell you who you can or can't play with. Despite what people think, we built Mizahar for a hobby and a place for us to play with each other and new friends. We really aren't a community service or slaves to new players. I hate to have that attitude but truthfully the pushy little buggers can f'off. Speaking of the fbomb.. I didn't see much of it in your scrap, so the warning was unnecessary. You are polite even in your rantings.

Anyhow, I enjoyed reading it. Love you.

Jen
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[Cayenne's Scrapbook] Into the Jungle

Postby Malia on April 2nd, 2011, 6:25 pm

I can clearly see the change you've made with your life reflected in this post. It reminds me of a girl I know: She used to be very shy and quiet, not good with people, eating lots of chocolate when she was down, always buried in a book, always reading and hiding in various fantasy worlds. That's how I got to know her, but she's changed a lot in the last three or so years. Out of a drive to lead a good life and to be happy, she started working hard in school simply because she wanted to improve her grades, she started taking an interest in various things and taking up sports. She regularly goes to the gym now and cooks for herself and others and eats healthy because she wants to be healthy and look good. Although she doesn't read as much anymore, she's found her niche and continues enjoying what she loves. She's more self-confident, she knows what she wants to do and has learned how to put up with some of the shit in her life and say no to everything that makes her unhappy.

Well, what I want to say is that change is good. I see you've changed and it sounds awesome! I really really hope you can be happy in the future. I firmly believe that we have the right to be happy. All of us. I also believe that you don't get anything for free. But if you work for it, you'll feel the reward even more.

I hope everything clears up for you soon. :)
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