Warp Bridge Expansion Protocol

It’s been a long time since the last time I was here.

9 months or so.

And in that time, our expeditions to the realms of abstraction and security have been fighting heavily to bring back information. As my research oratories theorised and debated, this blog was not forgotten; and the tools, the precision arts of literature and microforecasting, are now within our grasp. I now stand prepared to retake the helm of this platform and begin its operation as a content delivery system proper.

Energy stabilisation is the last key goal for this expedition. The Department of Heuristic Observation and The Legion of The Predicators have begun broader investigations on this matter. In the meantime, there is finally solitude across all of the Conglomerate, and its Protectees.

A long lost federation can now begin to fly again. If only we knew of Hiigara.

Maimed and backed into a corner

When one first said “be yourself” – they surely didn’t mean it to end like this.

It seems the true colours behind my mind are being tarnished – from the inside. See, look here; these emblems and draperies are normally proud to be azure. But they’re not, are they?

What can you see now? Rouge. Literally, rouge. Here, a despicable and sickly cosmetic that has grown out of control and been smeared around like some sort of gawkfitti.

When I first saw the trend of my activity over the past months, I was shocked and alarmed, shortly followed by indignant and violently frightened. It took less than a minute before there were bandied whispers of femme fatale (like visceral snakes) and cries of “Oh my god.” – because at heart, these personalities were right. Collectively, they were never intended to form me as a selfrighteous idiot bitch; or worse, a seducer.

Leveraging gender and pity? How the hell did you not see that? Why do you cling to pity and dependance?

Another bitter drunk embarrassment to add to the pile. I’m sure of that much, but no, what troubles me more is that they’ll be back, and they keep twisting my arm and brushing the grit off my neurons. No. What really fucks me is that it’ll come back, like some sort of never ending history trail. There aint a promise or end to it that I can be relied upon to deliver. It’d be kinda uncertain that there’s anything left about here that can still get a tactical grip on a situation. For all I’ve had in life, it disappoints me can’t even promise to eliminate a damn taint and make sure won’t be back. I’ve been fighting fire with vengeance in a desperate endeavour to stave it off for some sleep. But the mofo bounced back, messed in my brain some more, and suffocated me with darkness and fear on its way out! It’s some sort of adventurous, cliché ripped, battle to keep free of urges – but books are successful because people relate to them.

It’s just ironic (and thus further clichéd), that these very seductive urges that besiege me were the result of hopeless solitude in the first place. Take a look at this page on Maslow’s Hierarchy, and tell me what you see – and note that this is a subconscious grab for romance in lieu of love. I’m not trained in clinical psychology, but what I can say is that it’s a pathetic and volatile imitation and substitute for a proper relationship, disturbing the very foundations of trust that a coalition must be built upon.

As the conflict ensued between these zealots and the true-azure survivalists (outraged that the lust would run uncontrollably and disturb a stable living), there was a crisis that pitched my mind into terror. I’m on the run from them now – there wasn’t exactly anywhere else to go to.

Note the lack of any family relationships above? Note my vicious tone that is rather unbefitting and odd? I blame my family for a lifetime of independence, indifference and insults. In their own way… understandable; but not brilliant. It’s spurned a life of untrust, cut off and eternal vigilance. There are few that know my secrets, and none yet that understand the complexity and deep shit that I got stuck in. Bitterly, the concept of reassurance and happiness was turned over its head for solitude and isolation.

Personality wise, this is exacerbated by a feminine partygoing persona, the first visage you meet. It’s all too typical of a modern girl: deceptively simple, eternally drunk and yet have proper limits. It doesn’t benefit from tactical analysis, wisdom or rhythm and dead stupid.

Totally false and unreflective of the internal workings. Desperate in time, desperate in love, and a complete recipe for disaster. But coping normally, not like those… creepy, old people with their stiff rules and weird habits. Total ugh!

But as much as spontaneity is lively, loose and happy, it doesn’t give much unless it’s tempered with a bit of temporal awareness. Sleep.

You can see where this is going, right? I hope so. I’m not really sure if I’ve been making the concept link into each other, I’m so freaking tired and bitter.

Fatale.

Because of the lack of trust, the sleep deficiency kicks in and wipes out any defensive personas, mucking up their concept of rhythm. Without timing, defence is uselessly ineffective and gives out to fear and lust. Something stupid will be said.   BAM.

Of course, I’m watching this fucker. This demon succubus isn’t getting away, and there might actually be some interesting shit to talk about then. Question is, how do you get to grips with a fight with one? The supply routes are adequately slashed. I can barely think straight because I stayed up late to write this out of sheer fustration. Social isolation progresses because of that sleepless fear, causing an alert on stupidity, and inertia isn’t exactly working in my favour…

Time and trust will tell, I suppose. First thing is to get a grip on everything, not just half like this, at one instant. I might actually see where to go from there. (Um, no actually. It’d be to get some nice sleep :P )

A plan against Social Awkwardness

*scrawled marker writing on a virtual board – organised into the form of arrows, plots and a map. Listed via the LCD are various labels and objectives, methods and directions of assault, weaponry lists and armament stores, logistical routes, bombardment, troop movements… this is war.*

The lady standing at this board has pocketed the stylus and turned around.

Strategy. I take pride in it. It’s a right I’m here to damn well keep, too.

If someone wants to take that right, it’ll be over my cold, dead body. You just fucking try.

Anyway. That isn’t the point. I must advise you I don’t take kindly to patronisation. And I’m keeping my rights while I’m at it. That includes my damn dignity.

You think it’d probably be wise not to insult her while you’re at it.

These plans are being written up for an inquiry into social conduct. It’s come into question before and it needs to be analysed and understood before moving on.

Bigger picture, social dynamic has to be worked on, sealed down and resolved before anything else gets moving on. But it’s a deep subject.

Hence the strategy board.

Keeping my goddamn rights is… tradition.

Also with this, taking things by complete storm.

Now, this all has to be arbited and approved at some point by the personas responsible for auditing-arbitration and privacy, but believe me, innundations of stupid clueless Laana are long gone. Response times, reallocation and divesture… a lot of paperwork is being filed over in this brain, and it’s all in stability’s sake. Clarity of expression isn’t long off the horizon; it’s just where to find the damn thing.

Then? We might start getting into the meat and potatoes of this lot. I’ll get those resolutions. I’ll… kick the bastards in the fucking balls. And finally get some goddamn, bloody peace. *sigh*

What next? September

A lot of logistics work is under way to prepare the way for the next month of posts. Things to expect?

First, apologies and social triage. Habit security and the like. This includes the continuation of the tempo shift, explanations, observations and the like.

A history and front report, plus scouting, us due.

Then, groundwork for a future, over the next 2 months…

Light. Intellectual philosophy, jediism, pragmatic morality, buddhism, and a nice paladin comparison to Planet of the Hats’s post on hands, as well as my concept on mana. Faith.
Articulation. Illustration. Tone. Blame by “you” statements. Socially awkward penguin makes about 5 visits here.
Feminine takes and stances, getting old, and fashion. And jeans. And appearance as reflective. And paramilitarism.
Long rants on passion and innovation, and lots of flaming and slamming teachers, especially in NZ.
Addiction and its significance.
Myers-Briggs will make an appearance.
Guide writing will most definitely be covered

In subsequent, real game oriented content, leadership and WoT, as well as strategy and a long rant on idiot leadership, as well as draft internal work on a leadership handbook for my quarticentennial. In addition, the constitution and vision will be written within the next 10 days.

The keystone for the month is an explanation of current battle doctrines, tactics and strategy for the next 3 years, as well as the tiers of quality and strike efficiency tactics. Contrast, quality, control and a whole lot if other stuff I can’t think of at 2330h.

I also got a promotion at work lined up. Unofficially yet, but I’m told by a reliable source…
The pay rise? UNBELIEVABLY AWESOME. Means I can go shopping for clothes tomorrow too.

I’m pretty confident I can queue this all up, but it may be a little longer than a month if things go south. But this ends a long dynasty of unpreparedness and the start of a long journey. But a very worthwhile one. This is no boring old crusty blog or collapsing project. This is a full combat force, with siege armament and formidable bombardment capability. If you’re sitting comfortably on a shit, unruly class and doing absolutely nothing about fixing it… get worried. I’m coming for your ass. The Conglomerate had the funding, will and force to take you on and win in a firefight. Teaching in New Zealand will improve at all cost. We cannot afford to be laid back and all I can and will use all force possible to achieve such an objective. There is no future for a New Zealand without a solid education, and if we can’t even convince IB uptake to be at least 70% I don’t know what we’re thinking and trying, but it’s not working. I’m not that. As a nextgen of the late 80s, this a fresh, new insightful tactical taskforce, specialist designed for maximum impact and flexibility, innovation and pioneership, with undying prose and resolve. This its not going to be another flop. This is an elite taskforce, purpose designed to engage and win, with tactics and strategy that no other information distribution had gone for, on a front where a victory is a victory for the world and a defeat is one we cannot afford

Tomorrow will lay out stage 1 SEAD and carrier insertion reports, tempo and maaaybe vision. Soon after are social notes.
I now finally hold the munitions and fuel to make a difference (it shows on my face too). It’s time to engage. Strike forces launches have been on to double as of late and have been under immense pressure to stay secure and I’m glad the ops theatre and farce is to be resolved within the next fortnight. Reactors offline, all hatches seal for evening signoff.

Kt-Lt Seranaar, out.

This time, I’m not dying…

This blog has died and withered too many times. And this… this won’t be the last time, but it will be the last time, for quite some time. There will be no hibernated whimper. There won’t be a suicide note. There won’t be another fight and absence.

It has gone on for too long.

This is a stand, a rebellious declaration of defiance. At all of it. All of the unreadiness, the uncertainty, the fear, the pain. The Light is fated to end this.

We-me-myself-I-whateverfirstpersonpronouns have been training in secret over the past 8 months to plan a decisive and controlled change of the status quo. The next dawn will be a herald of our reckoning.

When the  flagship hoists its flag tomorrow, it marks the beginning in the Operation to Restore the Conglomerate. It marks the end of belligerence, it marks the end of unpurposeful living. It will be an honour and duty to ensure that these revisions and tactical strikes are performed with an exceptional manner. It will be my honour to chronicle it as advice, and to have hope that this could support others through their times of need.

The journey will be treacherous. But the Conglomerate is stronger, better, more prepared, more maneuverable, and proactively ready; and so, this farce ends – now.

ToDo list

https://twitter.com/#!/anolaana/status/105577984521547776

https://twitter.com/#!/anolaana/status/105578129371832320

Quality Control, Part 1, Fatigue and Minds

Sticking to plain simple names now. Too much puffing myself up this week.>.<

You’re too impulsive, woman!

You think you can do any-bloody-fucking-thing you damn well like in the space of a day by heating up a plasma reactor and biffing (ie, throwing very hard) it into your objective! Sorry to damn well say, the world don’t DAMN – WELL – WORK – like – THAT!  *the officer bangs fist into the table*

Ugh, sorry. Tired  as hell, ma’am. It’s just, nothing’s getting done like this. I mean, everyone is saying that, but they’ve got it wrong. It’s not your administration, ma’am. It’s just the lethargy and this fatigrunkeness that’s killing us all.

Smart officer he is too.

I am ridiculously sorry for how this week has turned out. It’s been even more hectically up and down. I set out to reduce spam, to improve people’s quality of life, and all I’ve done this week is flood your inboxes with spam and rickrolls. *sigh*

It, of course, all comes down to “leth” (so chosen at the time because it sounds like meth-amphetamine, or p, a dangerous drug with global prevalence). It truly is a problem very much like drinking. Of course, it wasn’t until @DiscoPriest and @Palmetto_Rose commented over the past few days that I had to draw the effects out into the open. One day I ended up noticing a student with a Drug and Alcohol booklet from his health class. That got me thinking. I filled in an ALAC questionnaire, and should I have been a drinker… I would have been in the danger zone. I sleep that little! *rolls eyes*

The current Field Psychological Manual for the Laanatic Conglomerate, provisional/tenative revision, states the following:

The leth stage, encompassing what’s currently/provisionally Phase 6a of the sleep cycle, is extremely dangerous. It is severe and not to be messed with, and should be removed as soon as possible by a return to Phase 7, while mitigation should occur immediately by shutting all social links and .

How much of my thoughts relate it, make it sound like, drinking? A lot. Sure, it’s a recent, untrustable attribution, but a major discovery and paradigm shift. A direct, not indirect, not implied, philosophy change. But what I didn’t do, is put that info back in to be re-parsed *sigh*.

Ever wondered why I don’t drink? Because I’m so goddamn fatigrunk that I don’t need to be. When I’m tired, I end up pretending to be Ava. Although not anywhere near as good. Yeah, I’m a try hard :(

Now this is going to be reasonably pseudoscientific since I don’t specialise in this sort of field. But, here goes.

With even minor amounts of fatigue, more consciousness-energy has to diverted (somehow) subconsciously suppressing it, much like a police state, meaning less of one’s consciousness is available for doing proper tasks. It hits a lot of the rational and abstraction facilities (how? IDFN, I don’t do neurosciences… you chuck people into giant vats of magnetic fields for me and tell ME how all their neurons signal companies are working) and depletes pretty much every single sensor that I have. A memory drop out of the floor occurs, meaning perception takes a short hari-kiri break, timespans don’t work and invalidate rational analysis, and abstraction – planning, judgement, most reason – all go splat, because there is simply no way to remember all the features at once without forgetting something.

That’s why social reassurance is, rather ironically, the way to move back into Phase 7; because you feel like absolute SHIT. You will struggle to concentrate. Your consciousness will flicker between several threads, and this aint fucking hyperthreading, I give up on every new thing. As you realise what you’re doing, hopelessness, fear and remembrance will phase in and give you crap until you sleep. And when you wake up, you realise how futile they were and shallow; and flick them away with a single gesture.

Weird, isn’t it?

Alcohol also makes some quite drastic changes to tone. That drain to stay awake, to keep moving or get frozen up, and the almost physical fatigue it causes, shunts my brain to its back seat. I can barely type a post like this, in fact, I have no bloody idea how I’ve been doing them (writing like a tipsy person) all week… Priority one is actually going to be making sure that sleep stability is ensured by understanding the cycle, not by external psych. That’s probably going to end up being 1a, actually. How much things change… And you know what? Some smartass PhD has probably done all this work for me and I could have Google-f-searched it. That makes me sad, but that’s why I’m writing the blog, so I become the person you get from Google who explains it all! :D

I don’t feel like a girl at all when I’m tipsy. I revert into hyperscientific rational factual cold ruthlessly calculating. I don’t like that lack of control. I prefer my old, more vibrant-feeling self. I prefer its flow. And as I try and work towards that, while drunk, I get nothing done. Bare fragments last night streamed towards this post… but it was like, “oh shit, what have you done, look at the bigger picture”.

Is it proof?

It can return at any moment. Drunkeness can too. All you need to do is run out of sleep. All you need to do is imbibe alcohol. Both get you temporarily impaired in thinking, in some fashion (alcohol being a suppressant, likely has very similar actions on your neurons. I believe it’s physically harder to make connections). Both take a while to clear. Both make you do things you don’t want to. And so, even if both aren’t given the exact same treatment, they are extremely similar impairments.

All very well and good then, hypothesise that “Sleep=ImpairedAsDrunk“. Yeah, yeah, how can we objectively measure these results? How do we see them? How can we measure this? Experimentalism and scientific method have to lead to casuality; without proof, you’re nothing.

I actually had a great idea for a fatigue index. I forgot it promptly last night, but spelling and maths skills. You’re not quite as bad as drunk, but it makes a noticeable difference. I can personally tell when it’s time to shut it down; that’s typically 75% of any sleep I’ve had over the last 48 hours, with less than 16h total sleep, and about 90% with about 20h of sleep (but then I go into the explosive, mental-boom cycle which I need to cover).

 

What I’m picking at here, is that fatigue is as much a problem as drunkeness, and for dividends to pay off, it needs to be treated like one. Sleepless nights have the same social-communicative effects as binge drinking (not as much on the health side; mental health is more severly impacted here). To achieve mobilisation proper, it has to be the first to go, because these little mental terrorists like driving my mind to insanity and killing all my strategists. And they’ve risen by my inaction; so too, will they be quashed by my actions.

Scouting report: Skirting “The Cycle”

It’s no secret. My problems are flooding into the open like thousands of gallons of pollutant sewage – that is, every negative swing.

I finally understood; people don’t hate people; they either hate what they say, or have no idea who they are. I’m misinterpreting a lot of social signs.

And when you do hate me, it’s not me. It’s what I’ve said, stupidly, that has offended or chided you. The immaturity is what gets you. And you’d be right to imply scoffing (but not to do :P ).

Why do I get these mood swings? It’s like cutting off the power. Run out of stored sleep; run out of fuel; run out of electricity. Plain and simple.

I don’t like admitting mistakes. I particularly would like to believe that I would have never done it, or never done it while I was awake. But one measure of a person is by their worst, not best; not to mention if I never face these problems, they’re going to come back. So I – I, not the brain, not we “brain-and-I” – need to break the fear of these problems temporarily.

So I need to find the problems (I like to call them terrorists, so I can blow them up). Then, I need to find the causes of each – typically a worry, a fear or habit, and find arguements to remove them. Each worry removed means more time at efficiency, less time in mood swings, and less stupid.

I hate stupid. I hate hate hate hate hate it. I can’t see why I’d ever allow myself to do it; but that means beating myself up in worry over it. I can’t see how the hell I allowed myself to run out of discipline to start swearing or horny on the damn internet, get so fatigued I was good as drunk, or believed that I could get away from sleep all the time. I’ve got to start making major policy changes, as soon as I can.

I’ve touched all too briefly on the base causes, but not actually what happens. Let me describe these fluctuations and mood swings, because it’s not actually as apparent as I think (and the fact that I, myself, am not actually sure, which means I don’t actually know the concept as well as I need to):

  1. Neutral. This is actually more like a 60-70% of capacity due to sleep, but meh. Awake. This was the middle of the day yesterday, when the posts were rolling out.
  2. Mistakes. Fury. Arguements. Something I have disdain for. Something I need to change.
  3. Get really enraged that it happened (a whole “Have to fight it! CHARGE!” and cavalier thing) and not sleep.
  4. As I move to fight it, my mood warps as headaches roll in, my mind becomes apathetic and I cannot concentrate. Personality starts to disintegrate as focus gets strained. I should probably be sleeping anyways.
  5. Say something really-really stupid, because I’m running out of sleep. Alternatively, get horny (sigh). Typically the stupid happens midweek, and the latter occurs during the weekend.
    1. This is typically due to a loss of logical reason. I can usually prevent most of this by reasoning that I’d be better off by not saying that. The hot stove extrapolation goes as I lose abstract thought. It essentially becomes a big BFS.
  6. Do the whole OMG thing… but this time, have a cry about it :\
    1. This is the danger zone. It causes very, very strange distortions of logic. However, it causes 7 to kick in – that is, as a countermeasure to 6a. 6a causes isolation, panic and fear, and commonly points fingers that nothing is working.
  7. This forces logic to kick back in. Everything shuts down and is under mental comfort-triage.  I have an early night, and get pushed back into 1.

Starting from just before my first proper post, written as I was on a plane home…

[Possible 5 – saucily provoke @Velidra and @Formerlychaotic?]

3. Wrote post on fear.

4. Stayed up too late when I was already tired. Energy levels were already starting to level off by the early afternoon.

5. As we moved into the evening, I started talking horribly dirty. The last time I did this, I was awfully drunk. I’m typically a prude, and hardly ever talk about sex. Even saying it is weird. I still couldn’t sleep, and by morning, I snapped at two men in a rather unnecessary (and rather territorial) way.

6. As I started to realise what had happened, I immediately scrambled a response.

“4.” In my pushing fury to resolve the situation in a proper, professional way I burnt out. Went back to sleep until 2pm.

6-a. By then I started picking up on how awful I was being and how little I could do about it.

What happens is that by following anything, I worry, and this actually pulls me closer towards my mum.

Logically this exposes worrying as the key issue.

This exposes chronology as a subsequent sub issue, and a revisit to time, rates and habits will be required to keep the almost divine supply lane of sleep open.

Thing is, we’ve the whole no-sleep thing is over rated. I’ve reached the limits of an all-awake system. I’ve had this realisation that this was the limit of the current habit-architecture for a while. And the time will come that at this limit will no longer be enough to meet daily needs. Fate is letting time push you along into anything it likes; and to be proactive, to have that ability to dare and respond to life, to wield that power of speed and mental grace is to get the largest tactical advantage in life.