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.

“25” and Fear’s Bane

I ended up listening to my other pop culture song. It’s Taylor Swift’s 15, and although I’m a long way past it, coming up on 9000 days alive (OMG POWER LEVEL), I sure don’t feel much like one. When I call myself a /girl/ as opposed to /lady/, I mean it. Nothing much has changed since then. I’ve moved from passive-agressive, to sporadic activism, to full war declaration, but that’s it really. At the end of the day, I’m still the rebellious bitch to her. And my issues still live on, so I train and fight smarter. I was the quiet girl who kept at the side of the class, and now I’m the teacher. Well, on that front it definitely changed. The backend, not so much. I live like Hermione-fucking-Granger, for goodness sake. Thankfully that got-gets you respect and keeps stupid at bay.

Some days, I just want to curl up and fucking die. I’m so tired I can barely think straight, I’ll have piles of work to do. Endless piles… I’ll probably have just dearly insulted somebody like a drunk – and subsequently… have nobody to talk to. After that many cycles of awakeness-fatigue-awakeness-fatigue… again… again… again… again… again…

It just feels like it will never end.

That hope has run out.

The mortal blow has been struck.

WHY? Why, why why why why why WHY WHY FUCKING WHY?

My damn tears start to flow. It feels so fucking hopeless.

I want a hug. Dearly, dearly want one. Chances are there just isn’t somebody who I’ve entrusted about this to care. And I’m alone.

I write this post in and because of fear, yet again. I can’t sleep. I feel alone again.

Fucking why?

This phenomenon runs a very close parallel to Tiger parents. I’ve explained last time how much of a knack for concept understanding I have; and pushing it doesn’t fucking work any better, I tried, I worried, I cursed and I mentally beat myself over it. Sooner or later the child becomes too much of a social cripple. It’s like politics, you don’t invest in your businesses and spam flailing welfare, a decade later your economy flips over and recesses. It doesn’t work. The best nation on Earth cannot remain the best with a crippled living standard, nor can it be productive.

Simply put, you can’t artificially push on a person. A child, while not as fully developed as you and I, is like a lowbie. She (or he, I can’t be androgynistic, that would probably be bad for PR) has the same emotional needs as any other, and while excessive discipline is one way of achieving that, parenting doesn’t have to be endless chastising. If it is, they’ll come out on the other end and probably commit matricide. You don’t want that… it’s the fancy way of saying “killing your mum”…

The other part of my experiences with this stretch deeper, and have been more recently revealed. They run deeper, these wounds, and even the newfound spirit cannot quash them.

It’s the need for approval and the superlativity, the leading superiority and the absolute requirement of staying ahead. Not alpha. Just ahead. The why aren’t you doing your best  – why didn’t you apply yourself practically moping? All from shit parenting. Let me explain before you become a demonstration of what I mean.

I am reliant on my skill and worth to stay ahead of the pack, out of mocking and failure. I have always been here. It’s ridiculously hard to so much as emulate their thought processes, as I dismiss them as ridiculously inefficient and stupid. Then again, they’d describe mental harm, like this, in the same way as I am now. Plus, it’s the IB mindset that counts when you teach it to others, even those who go around blowing stuff up. It demands that I be the best, always, strive for it, and if there is a problem, resolve it quicksnap.

The problem is not a problem, it’s a political issue about the sourcing of passion, a derivative product of emotional stability. No, you’re not social tools! I refuse manipulation like the devil reincarnate! I’m simplifying your emotional impact for the sake of medical-psychology… and so tired I’m practically dyslexic. I don’t know the symptom of switching the letters, so I can’t say I’m that.

Passion is the single most strong pervasive force in the universe. Not compound interest. It’s the equivalent of gravity – it never runs out, ok, maybe Hawking Radiation, but it’s not like the Earth evaporates… – and as strong as, well, the weak force (misnomer, this thing is nuclear fusion). Now that’s why marriages last a long time… or burn within a couple of months.

Yes, that IS one thing I learnt, like Taylor Swift.

The reason why my job wasn’t going so well was because of the fluctuation of supplies. I can’t remember what economics is supposed to call this, materials or somesort, but without these, my mental economy was buggered. I got there in the end of course, but it was slow. It was chaotic. And there were many, many, many riots in this brain.

Going back to what this sleep-loss and instability was doing, it was causing panic and fear.

Sorry. Didn’t explain the source of the original sleep loss. It was what we would typically class as an addiction. It was gaming in general, of which the history stretches back about 9 years to when I first got a laptop. A couple of years before that I had heard about the Sims from my… uh… father’s colleague’s daughters. I couldn’t understand it, tbqh. I installed it, played the tutorial, and dumped it (like I hear everyone whining about RuneScape at school)… wait, no, actually it was Pokemon Sapphire the year before…

Er, sorry again. I ended up playing into the night to fill a void gaming couldn’t fill. I was worried, and I said that gaming would soothe it. It didn’t. The only thing that did work was making a personality clone of RP-Laana and imagining she was my stepmother. Truefax.

No, I’m honestly not joking. I made an imaginary stepmother. I started crying once I realised how much shit this was. There’s something seriously fucked up about that. Dear friends, that is what the fear is in a short-paraphrased clippity version. That is what happens when you force a person to walk to exhaustion without moral care for them. That is why you only have 1 shot at a marriage. Well, more on that later.


For goodness sake, treat your child with a bit of dignity and respect! They’re people too, even if they’re gingers (PC note, I don’t have anything against them personally, but after hearing “GINGER ALERT!”, believe me, I’m worried). Be open to them. Let them spill their troubles on you;  because if not, the results and consequences will be worse. And if you can’t? SORT YOUR SHIT OUT FIRST, M**F*KER.

We’re now underway, Miss!

Sorry! This is heavily fragmented from ! I’m just too tired to edit it thoroughly and re-edit the re-edits for flow… tentatively, this is the draft of the Second Statute of the Blogistution to uphold the tenets of the Light and provide legal and visionary basis for writing content here.

It’s been an interesting day. One of my most productive, most youthful, and most provisional to the next. Thoroughly amazing pieces of info have been rolled through to patch (ok, become experience) and been collected.

Yes, that was a cliché. You’ll have to excuse me.

Thanks for making it an interesting one. I’m too tired to explain it… :P but, you know I truly mean it. Hopefully.

The first mobilisation has begun, and the formal crusade against parenting will be in logistical and strategic preparations over the next few days. In the meantime, basic operational patrol has begun and data is being collected. I’ll explain why I’m doing so as soon as I can, and how I intend to achieve this. Veeery soon. In the meantime, I’m going to write this, and enjoy my girlishness by letting my fingers run around madly. No, don’t even think about me in a damn bikini. Goodness you’d be a piece of **** if you were. You don’t even know what I look like. I could weight 270lbs for all YOU know (I don’t, but still). Don’t be such a bloody pervert.

To the rest of you, sorry.

The second mobilisation is the original blogistution.

Blogs are interesting voices of mind. They are publishing spaces, for free. They let fierce words and strong arguement prevail; truly a medium of modern free speech. And that’s why it’s important that my communication and expression is concisely precise.

Granted, it’s not going to be perfect. This is a chaotic, random universe, with so many moving parts something’s bound to come wrong or float into the gears of it. But I feel I could do a whole lot better.

I endeavour to change. I endeavour, dear reader, to change the status quo of my expression. The best people, of all categories are always stand out- and always unique. It is my intent to strive for this.

Ever since I made the first battle a year ago as a rebel force against the oppressions of crap parents and discovering the source of why I was so lost and childlike, I’ve wished to help others. (I found it. It was provisions of sleep. It was, indeed, fear. Coupled with going back to high schools. I also intend to express the followed source – and this time (ugh, villiany!) it won’t escape.)

It is thus, in the combination of the two, that my intents are stated as blatantly as ****ing possible, in the highest quality of expressional writing possible. The best writers let you see through their eyes. That is my vision. Is it possible? Maybe. Am I vain? … certainly!!!!!!!!11!!!! Well, ok. I am a bit, but it’s good to strive, right? I won’t ever become as good as them, but I want to come damned close.

Bad expression is just… muddled, undeveloped, unexplained, unclear, uncohesive, verbose crap you shouldn’t need to read in paticular. It’s good as a capture of the time it’s written, like a photo… but it has no artistic value. It doesn’t communicate anything, but what the tone does.

Bad expression was the first post in which I denounced a member of my server for leading a PuG and then biting my ass for kicking him. Reasonable and un-reasonable to bite me.

The tone of these words is important. As soon as the first battles and “terrorism” (snicker, rebellion is sweet) had been won by late 2010, it became apparent that I would have to double-push for this to become a better teacher. Hmm, I’ve said it many times on my blogposts and such… should I publicly post this? The moving of experience and thus, knowledge in dealing with situations, is best moved with clear and precise writing. Which was sporadic under the oppression, and limited to passive-voice objectivity. It took me back to the years of efficiency back then. Yes, I did get very high marks (At the time, both NZ High Schools and the Uni I went to had just switched certification systems). Previously, from 9-15 years old, I had been within the top 2% of my cohort in every EAA exam (we call them ICAS these days) I did. If I had been healthy, I imagine that would have gone on to 18 years old.

Sorry, blabbing about my history (important to understand and study, not to recite. Goes for the subject too). The important part about one’s tone is it changes the entire context. People say you can’t get tone in writing, and I say BS, because the word choice is everything. It is true that it is diminished without an actual voice-tone, which has full modulation. This is why I preserve swear words at current. Usually because I’m angry or really tired. I don’t typically, but if I would I will. You can bypass certain blanket filter-proxies using https: for any WordPress site or GReader, which has a https service. Search cache, where not blocked as a proxy itself, also works. Don’t tell my boss/IT managers I’m telling you this.

Sorry! Tone has to be clear, and uncondescending. To be blatant – or implying – is to get your tone across. To flavour your text using words and passion is to enhance it further. And that’s reasonable, right?


I suppose the thing that sums this all up is, to get knowledge, we must express, and we must dare when we do so.

And much daring I shall provide for. Plenty of sleep, plenty of hope, plenty of anti-fear munitions and (hopefully some anti-parental-soundproofing).

Info-supply status/tomorrow/previewing the future/somethingcoolIcan’tthinkofrightnow/postwriting comments/other nonsense/nothisisnotapermanentnameforthispossiblefooter/an infopipeline, damnit

I might leave up a copy of my OLD about post tomorrow. And I am indeed tracking the ToDo list very closely:

The third statute and its reasoning-explanation of the blogistution and vision will be up tomorrow, along with the about pages… and, sorry, my scholar’s memory has dropped, I’m too tired… I’ll check later and put it into the mindmap…

The arbitrations on privacy as a professional are ongoing and the information will be processed and pushed through as soon as I reach a decision on revealing anything. Don’t hold your breath,  – my first name is publicly available if you dig, as is my city (no stalkers, I’m picking up martial arts ASAP) and my profession will be placed on my bio/about pages sometime soon. Voice is still a long way off, because that’s actually me, not just information about me, and I’m pretty paranoid.

Yes, I love the people who bold the important parts of their posts.