Somewhere outside the lonely Esmerelda County line

It's been a few years since I've been here, like this. Very intense dissociation, paired with my body being piloted by someone who is not me, not me at all. 

This happened two years ago, in July 2024. I called him Zombat. And he hasn't reared his head much until now. It's... weird to be experiencing this again. A lot has happened in regards to myself and my brain since then. Good things, mostly. And I think Zombat is a good thing. Many things to articulate. He takes care of me. He's piloting the body right now. He makes me question a lot of things that I thought I knew about myself. He probably makes me fall into some category of plural, but given that he only comes out once a year at most, I'm not totally sure what use it is to even call myself that. Anyway, he bought me groceries, tried (and... failed really really horribly) to make me a cake, forced me to take my vitamins and supplements (and bought me new ones), and is now providing me with enough mental space to distance myself away from my fear so that I can overcome my freeze response. 

Used to, I was terrified and very upset with Zombat. I mean... it's very scary to sit back and realize that you aren't the one controlling your body or hands or anything. I'm only typing right now because it's one of the few direct outlets that I, Gill, can really access without him blurring lines. I mean, his influence is still very clear. I'm not moving my hands, he is, but it's not as bad as it'd be if I was speaking. I've.... learned a bit about how to co-exist with him. In the past, he's stayed around for a month or so. He's largely nonverbal. Sometimes, he'll manage to use emojis or images to communicate anything. Most of the time, I can't make sense of it. He usually doesn't try to communicate anything at all to me. He just... goes goes goes. I watch my body go and do things. Sometimes he can't read and I have to use a lot of energy to reach through the eyes (metaphorically speaking) and see what he is seeing. Same with other random shit. He forgot how to drink, today. I had to coach him through that and honestly I am not totally sure if he figured that out. I introduced him to a Straw and we're using that right now. 

His actions aren't bad, just not me. Not me at all. Usually they are good for me, they are things I need to do. But they're not me. So, thank you Zombat. For buying me vitamins and making me take them + fiber supplements + liquid IV. Thanks for the cake, even though I've never seen anyone fuck up a cake that badly before. And thank you for saving me from the literal screaming and yelling breakdown I had today in my car. That sucked a lot. But I guess I was loud enough to rouse him from the trunk of the car that is my brain. And now he's here. 

Sometimes I feel like I personify him too much. I don't think this is plurality as most experience it, and as much as I appreciate plurality as a framework that can be applied as need be, I don't know if it's worth it. He's not around often at all, and when he is I have little desire to explain him outside of a few select spaces. What good would it do? I don't know if I personify him or if he is really another person. All I know is that he exists and it is not my normal dissociation. 

I'm sure some complications will arise with him. Zom and I always disagree. But for now, I am thankful that he's back after a very long absence. It's nice to know I have a zombie bully (the dog..!) in my brain who takes the reigns and forces me to rest. Now. Onto other things. 

Things due this week:

- English and British Novel Essay. Emailing for an extension as we speak. Otherwise, Thursday.
- Anth of Violence short paper (1 page) - Tuesday
- Anth of Violence big paper (15+ pages) - Thursday
- Language and Culture poster - Thursday
- Poetry paper?? Maybe? - houhh??? No assignment for it online. I've given up relying on the syllabus for this class. 

ALSO I emailed my poetry professor a THIRD TIME this morning. Guess who is still yet to respond to any of my emails about how I literally have a 0% in the class. A 0%. None of my grades are in. 0. None of them. Not even the participation grade. I gave a massive lecture and he said it was AWESOME. I have a second paper due for him?? sometime??? No idea when. He hasn't graded the first. We haven't had half of the assignments we should have. Nothing in the grade book. I graduate May 14th. Grades are due May 13th. I don't know what this man will even do. How will he manage this. I'm scared for him. I like him a lot as a person. I hate him as a professor. I feel so bad for him. I want to take another class with him because his lectures are delightful. 

Look, half of it is me. I didn't do most of the assignments for many reasons. But also, three emails asking for help and not a single reply? Zero grades input for a whole semester? What are we DOING!!! This is stressing me the fuck OUT!!! 

Look, knowing that I will (God fucking WILLING) pass all my Anthropology courses has saved my ass big time. But I still have my pride and a desire to do good in things. I would still love to say that I did good. 

I have a lot of ideas I want to write about when I am done with all of this. Such as:

- Getting the nonhuman ethnography out! I am very excited to talk about this. It will not be about nonhumanity as an identity, but I think it will be a lot of fun to dig into. Sorry, no raw data. But yay to charts!! 

- Fictionfolk reading list. Some books that I think have a ton of potential for primarily fictionfolk, but also that might really resonate with other alterhumans. On the list so far: The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams and "Sexing the Cherry" by Jeanette Wilson. Both of these works really play around with reality in strange ways. What does it mean to have your memory reshaped? What role does memory play, internally, and how can it be changed? Does it matter if we change it? What are the possibilities in regards to our inner world? I don't think everyone will really be on board with the theme I'm going with here, but it's very much how I experience being fictionfolk and I'd love to start collecting works that articulate that better than I can. 

- Following the above, my own experience with time and it's passage. Between my archaeosapience and dissociation, time is strange to me. I don't feel like I should experience it linearly. Memories resurface and I relive days within a few seconds. I feel like I am a blip on a time line. I can feel myself in the future. It's strange that I can't jump to it. I'd like to explain it a bit more.  

And a few more less-developed ones about my therian identity (as an alligator) taking a bit more shape. Musings on if it's something I actually want to start linking more and developing or if I just want to do that because a lot of the spaces I'm in are more heavily therian and, as such, they don't really pay attention to me when I talk about being a gillman as opposed to an alligator. Despite them.... being one in the same pretty much. Thumbs down. Weird experience. But whatever. 

I have an exam to study for. I am going! I am going I am going I am going! My girlfriend will be home soon and I will see them and we will be Okay.