I lost the post I did yesterday because Keith interrupted me and asked me to solve something for him.
He managed to print out the shipping labels and when I asked him how he fixed the system, he quietly muttered that he hadn’t plugged the printer in…
I had to go into the shipping software today to just FIX the problem. It’s not updating. Could be Shipstation configuration, or Samcart config. But either way you have to go into two separate platforms to get them to speak to each other. I was just sick of this entire bullshit parade so I reset all settings, put in API keys all over again, and there were errors both ends. So I just submitted a ticket on both platforms to go deal with.
I’m finally getting sales off my livestreams. So doing them while I work isn’t such a bad thing.
I’m caught up with the orders now and setting time aside for new developments, then circling back onto advertising. I do feel honestly like I’m still doing everything on my own. At the end of the day “e” commerce is online, using softwares, which have to integrate and talk to each other… there’s no such thing as an all-in-one system. You have to patch it together out of your preferences.
None of this is within Keith ability. So, him even offering to do logistics was beyond him. So I shouldn’t complain really, but I’ve learned - he can’t complain either - I’m doing everything I can and beyond.
So I’ve adopted the tactic of; instead of being stressed about a million things to do, when keith nags and says “when are we going to change the pricing on the website?” I just turn around and say, whenever you want to go in and do it. I won’t get a chance to sit infront the computer for ummm at least the next week.
And even if I do, it will be priority based. So you’re welcome to update things whenever you like.
And I left it at that. If he nags, it’s not my problem it’s HIS. That’s why he’s nagging. So yeah basically, he can nag at me all he wants and I just turn around and say - well you could do it, you don’t have to wait for me. You have all the access I have…
He’s been fretting about his health too. With me having a near miss cancer scare - and the prognosis is, the size and changes of my tumor were inevitably going to turn into cancer… he’s now turned attention to himself. He asked me too look at his MRIs and see if I saw anything that explained the radiologists notes:
I pointed out to him that his right subclavian artery is malformed and branching off the wrong side of the aortic arch thus compressing his trachea…
Anterior to both the wind pipe and the esophagus.
Which could not only explain the aberrant sub clavian artery but all his breathlessness, tight voice, and cough. Which incidentally I could see nodules on his lungs that looked like tubercle gummas. And I now know why he was suffering acid reflux - because of the tangled artery compressing his esophagus.
He called the doc and confirmed what I said by asking the doc to interpret the meaning of these things. And then, the doc ordered some mycobacterium tests related to tuberculosis. Which, is absolutely possible given our stay in Austria amongst farmland. He also has his skin lesions checked out but they were ok, normal keratosis.
So now he’s kinda worried about more tests and seeing a cardiologist, which is good I expect. I haven’t had the time to book my rectal mass tests. I’m still manually decimpacting myself with my fingers because my butt hole won’t work.
But now I have time to think about booking the tests… and I am surviving on the medication that helps me pass stool through the blockage. Haven’t been taking it recently because standing up streaming and pouring I don’t want to be caught squitting myself with an accidental wet fart.
I wonder if this mass is a prolapse after all? That would be weird.
Today marked the first sale I made WITHOUT social media. So somehow this person found my product via other means and I will try to find out looking at analytics and search console where that came from.
I’ve been going to bed watching gore movies, which I find deeply fascinating and oddly satisfying. It’s my dirty secret to watch death torture and mutilations to know inside that I am lucky to be alive, and every day is precious.
It’s hard to make the most out of every day. Live to your fullest every day. But I think that’s what I’ve been focused on lately, and maybe using the gore videos to remind me, no struggle compares to this lack of value for life that I’m seeing in the underbelly of the internet.
I realized in one video they had drugged the man to keep him alive while they skinned his face and chopped his hands off. They turned making someone suffer into a sick art form. I saw the same kitchen being used over and over, so these guys had loads of practice at formulating their past time of devaluation.
What I was surprised about was that in the forum, there are people who study these fanatics and can identify which cartel they belong to, and who did what. Like in one video they chopped the arms and legs off four women and then beheaded them leaving the last to see what was coming to her…
Because apparently she was guilty of skinning someone else’s face off. And there were whole threads related to the study of these folk. I never thought of the underground internet special interest groups as being identifiers and trackers.
I found a thread which asked if we were all sane or mentally fucked from watching these god-awful videos. And to my surprise MANY of these people say that they have become much more careful drivers or much more aware of their surroundings as a result.
Super interesting, that the bloody harshness of reality of being nothing more than a water balloon chucked into a tumble dryer full of nails is a reality check. Most people avoid, typical people can’t stomach it, don’t want to, for whatever reason that is? I don’t know. Keith looks over my shoulder sometimes at the surgery videos I watch and he grimaces over good work. I daren’t let him know I’ve picked up on a new hobby of studying murderers.
To be honest that could have been me. I have many times in life been too close to these kind of people. In the Philippines there were kidnappings and kidney removals with women left to die, knowing they would die in a few hours. I had a 24/7 guide attached to me because I was too… hmmm foreign looking? I didn’t blend in well. People thought I was some snotty foreigner who could dissappear i suppose.
I would scavenge scrap yards for materials to be turned into props for the studio. We travelled on ferries to islands, boats out to sandbanks and had barbecues on remote beaches. We were followed the whole time by people that noticed us and tracked us. There was a shooting in the hotel next to our mansion. Some Malaysian pirates killed some tourists. There were regular bodies in the streets from motorcycle accidents…
And I just glazed over it all. I remember the dead and dying infront of the Chinese hospital as I was stretchered in. I was told these people didn’t have the money to pay for help.
Weirdly I saw a lot of very tragic things in the Philippines, a baby in a box on the sidewalk. Apparantly it’s mother would be back so I was not to linger and be curious. I was often told to hide my camera and not look like a tourist. And my guide carried a gun. He also told me he was once a mercenary from somewhere south at a time of great conflict where he was sent on some missions to fight or kill.
He took me to his home, a single bare lightbulb in a corrugated shack, and I met his family, and it was just - cozy? There was a tiny video screen that they were receiving news on. They spent more on connectivity than on their abode. Since there was no need to even own a refrigerator, one would buy milk, oil, salt or produce daily, and feed a family on 80 pesos a day which was about a dollar.
I think spending my life running away, brought me to some edge of living where life was given very little value, actually gave me something back. A whole reset button. Which I had forgotten until very recently. The gore videos kind of take me back to that time in the Philippines where I saw tragedy on a daily basis with my own eyes. And people were happier with no shoes and just a bench to sleep on.
The most tragic thing I saw were the raggedy children who begged at street intersections. Some were mutilated. It was their job to beg for their families. Some children sold gum for 2 pesos or 10 pesos. This was to me the most tragic thing.
Children, we’re doing their job to survive
This was all they knew. And they did not know how wide the gap was from the developed world.
Recently I’ve been thinking about them. And about how somehow as a kid, I lost my emotions. Either I was born kinda sedate and non-reactive. Or somehow I suppressed feeling anything with practice until I forgot and it was simply carved out of me, hardwired after my brain finished pruning by the time I was 7.
So no matter how much I try to open up or feel anything now, I just can’t. It takes me to watch the grossest gore and murder videos to feel something, abit like what I felt in the Philippines 12 years ago.
