Where Is My Money 💰

For followers of this blog, you know I lost a social media 🐦 account for a time. 

Well... so did someone else. And he's getting $10 million dollars. Hell... where is MY money?? 

https://www.facebook.com/share/1A2krCaFXH/

🤦‍♀️ Wow. What a huge weight off of my mind. Between this and renaming a body of water, all our problems are solved. 😑 Smooth sailing from here on out. Yup. Perfect health, wealth, and love for the whole country now. Heck, the whole world. Utopian paradise ✨️ coming up! 🤨 Yup. Any second now. 🫣🤔 Yup...

Mmmhhhmmm 

Back on Twitter

I'M BACK, BABY!

— JamieWriter (@PenMinion) June 10, 2023

It was a long battle. Multiple emails sent. Actual mail sent. Effort was made.
But I'm back!

Never quote a comedian, spell well, or jokingly threaten a non-corporal entity. Abstract concepts have rights! 

Twitter update again

 Now that Musk bought Twitter, I'm going to see if my account can be reactivated.

"When Elon Musk reached a deal to buy Twitter on Monday, he promised to return free speech and debate to the platform, saying it was “the bedrock of a functioning democracy.”

Whether a less moderated social network will be a good or bad thing has become a top topic of debate on Twitter itself among influencers and politicians from across the political spectrum." NYT

If I WANT to stay on Twitter will remain to be seen. But getting kicked off for seeking to improve my mental health still bothers me to my core. So I sent this message, again. We'll see.

I know I didn't threaten an individual or group of people. I did threaten a non-corporal intangible construct (my own self-critical voices). 

(https://uniquelymaladjustedbutfun.blogspot.com/2021/03/silence-i-kill-you.html ) I do not believe I promoted terrorism or violent extremism because the celebrity comedian I quoted is still on Twitter, and the joke I used about killing my own self-critical voices is still available on Twitter in gif form using your own search. (https://twitter.com/jeffdunham)

My own self-critical voices are not a person or people, and therefore cannot be targeted for harassment or abuse, as they do not actually exist, and certainly are not now nor have ever been children.

My own self-critical voices do not have a race, ethnicity, national origin, caste, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity, religious affiliation, age, disability, or serious disease. 

Threatening my own self-critical inner voices is the opposite of promoting suicide or self-harm, as those voices are frequently CAUSES of such actions. So if you oppose fighting back against self-critical inner voices, you're violating your own terms of service and need to be suspended too. Just saying.

If the link to my blog post was such a form of sensitive media, then that EXACT SAME MEDIA shouldn't be available as a gif on your site in your own search. (https://media.tenor.com/xX0VFUYfUa4AAAAM/jeff-dunham-silence.gif)

Killing one's own self-critical voices involves no actual death or violence. 

It's actually the path to IMPROVING mental health and taking charge of your own life. 

I am asking only to be treated the same as others. Or for an explanation as to why I should not be treated the same as others. Or, at the very least, to know how I have been WORSE than the person I quoted (their joke), in such a way that I may learn how to become a better person. Because I do not understand what about wanting to deal with my own self-critical voices is a violation of your TOS. 

Twitter Update

I don't know what else to tell Twitter. I quoted a comedian, one who has an account. The joke used was part of the YouTube video. The same joke is a gif readily available on their website. The threat was to my own self-critical voices, not to any actual living beings. I'm not even actually capable of killing my own self-critical voices. That's a job for prescriptions written by psychiatrists, and I'm not on any of those pills or seeing someone who could prescribe those. The voices are free to tell me that I suck and every idea I have is dumb. They can fill me with doubt and make me not want to even get out of bed. The voices have now also been given the power to cut me off from Twitter. I've already been cut off from human support, thanks to Covid quarantine. Twitter has made its stance against mental healthcare very clear to me. Message received. Bad voices good, they have power, they are protected by TOS. I feel like I've been shoved in the mud enough and have learned this lesson. I'm sorry I threatened the self-critical voices in my head using a Jeff Dunham joke. That was wrong of me.

Quoting @jeffdunham Puppet got me Suspended on Twitter

I have been suspended for quoting a puppet. @jeffdunham has a puppet with a catchphrase. https://twitter.com/search?q=%40jeffdunham%20silence%20I%20kill%20you&src=typed_query

If you are suspending me for that, I certainly hope you have also suspended EVERY ONE OF THESE ACCOUNTS AS WELL. And yes, if you clicked the link in my tweet, you'd see it was clearly a reference to the puppet's catchphrase. 

This blog post will appear in 12 hours. Achmed the Dead Terrorist... your catchphrase violates Twitter's rules. 

Maybe my self-critical voices can't be reigned in, because threatening to kill the bad voices in my head got me suspended.

Meanwhile... Jeff Dunham is over there making money hand over fist for using the words. Okay. Just so we're clear.

Two tweets toward a chance to win

Check out @PenMinion's Tweet: https://twitter.com/PenMinion/status/733303102703558656?s=09

That tweet is your chance to win $1000 worth of notebooks for following some Instagram accounts.

https://twitter.com/niicki/status/733106932404232192

This tweet is about dreams. Accomplishing dreams is a life win.

I'm going to add to my dream comment answer here. (Frankly,  3 comments on one post is probably a bit much... )

I'm not sure how to word this dream, so bear with me. (You can also bare with me if you want to get naked. Ha ha.)

Due to my respiratory condition,  I'm heat intolerant. Warm air feels like breathing in shards of glass. Slow, painful suffocation. (Zero pleasure. No idea what pleasure some people get from not breathing,  but whatever "wire" in the brain has that,  mine was cut.)

My best friend,  Renee, totally understands. When I visit her, she's got the air cranked. If she can't get her whole house cool, she at least makes safe spots for me. And sits with me. Granted,  she enjoys the cool air,  so it's easier. Or maybe she's just superwoman. I don't know, but I love her for it. I never feel guilty or unsafe at her place.

Family members will sometimes set a little cold area up for me. Away from everyone. Away from the food, drinks, bathroom,  and merriment. My own personal leper colony. I've sat on a chair outside and watched Christmas through the window. I understand ghosts.

I've sat at a friend's house. She was wrapped up under two blankets and still shivering. She asked if I was cold enough, and noted that I looked bright red. I lied and said I was fine. I can't bring myself to say,  "no, I'm roasting hot" while the host is freezing at 72° F. Especially knowing that it'll be another 12° until I'm okay. I feel guilty,  and my mind is listing the place as unsafe, which breaks my heart.

I frequently lie about being okay when I'm not. I deal with this disorder punishing me. But taking down my friends and family? That's why I became an introvert.

Yes, I've heard it's not a choice. But I was the host or co-host of parties. Ever been to a party where you only know 1 person? BEEN? I'VE THROWN THEM!  I made a ton of friends that night... nights... The rager kind of lasted a few days, with people just coming and going. I moved to a town where I didn't know a soul, and I loved it. I made friends. I took over social groups. And it wasn't the first time. When I lived in West Virginia, I was the most popular girl in the school. Upper and lower classmates came to me for advice. I didn't realize I held the title until people told me. It was just me being me. For the record, I was nice, not a mean girl. Okay, maybe to Jim, but the perv needed a smack. Anyway

I'm not bragging. I'm pointing out history. I leave my house once a week now. Sometimes twice. But usually once. On Tuesday,  to be with my writing friends. Except November, oh sweet tasty Nov,  where we meet up several times a yummy week, mmmmmmm. ♡

That's who I am now. Sounds like an introvert. But am I? It's a choice I made because I hate having other people freezing to keep me from extreme pain. I can't bring myself to ask them to be colder. I haven't even spent more than a few hours at my parents house because my dad can't take the cold, and trying to get it cool for me and then warm for him was exhausting my mom,  so I just stopped going.

So what's the dream in this? To not feel guilty, pain, or outcasted when hanging out with people? Yeah, I guess so. I dream of having this nice house where people can come over and there's room to sit. But I know I'll have to buy mini heaters for them, or I'll just be watching from another room. People aren't coming. For the same damn reason so few want to go to Antarctica. (Okay, maybe some other cold place, because I want to go! The trip costs like 16 grand, which is my not-packing-right-now reason.)

Dream to earn enough money for that trip from writing?

Would I survive the flight? What if the plane was hot? The boat leaves from South America. Not exactly known for being cold.

I'm off topic. And I still don't know how to properly word my dream. I guess it's the same one as the getting better dream. But it isn't. This one is about dealing while I wait to get better, or dealing because I won't (short of a medical breakthrough).

End thoughts.

#bookhuggles and #boutofbooks updates

http://www.brenda-drake.com/2016/01/bookhuggles-we-have-winners

I am a #bookhuggles winner. The odds were ever in my favor since I played almost every day.

For #boutofbooks I'm reading "The Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss. I have two hours set aside today so far to devote.

My #insixwords to describe myself were:
A broken human reads and writes.

Looking forward to the Twitter chat tonight.

Tweetable

Here are pills to slow the decline, to lengthen the time between the hospital and grave; the side effects are slightly better than death.