tablesaw: -- (Real1)
Hello, Google Profiles Team Member, and others!

There's not a whole lot I can do to talk to you as you go through this appeal, so I'm making this public post as the first informational link on my appeal, to help you get some context about what's going on here.

See, I was suspended on August 3rd. I appealed and was summarily rejected, but you asked me to send an e-mail for further review. The ticket number for that appeal was apparently #845437331. I sent an e-mail on August 4th. A public copy is here: Over the weekend, I waited to see if you'd respond or simply let it fall into the black hole of non-responses. But something different happened. My account went from having failed its appeal to having never had an appeal. At least, that's what it looked like from my profile page. I'm not sure; it's possible that my profile was reinstated and then re-rejected before anyone could see it. But I'm a little concerned that my last appeal, and the carefully considered words I sent you have been wiped clean from the last time.

But before we dicsuss theory, let's get to the links, shall we?

Dreamwidth is essentially my current base of operations on the Internet, where I am Tablesaw. This is a social network, where I am connected to hundreds of people who know me as Tablesaw. As you can see, I have archives for this name going back to 2002. Of course, many of those earlier entries are actually transferred from the previous iteration of this blog.

It was at Livejournal that I started the blog in 2002, and started to be known as Tablesaw to a wider web audience. Again, as a social network, LiveJournal introduced me to many people whom I now associate with offline as Tablesaw.

Before that, I joined the National Puzzlers' League, an organization with over a century of experience using chosen names in "real life," as Tablesaw. Now, I know what you're thinking, Google Person. That website looks terrible and doesn't itself, vouch for my identity much. I'll admit, I don't use the website much either. But then, you've kind of placed yourself in a bind, asking me to prove things that happen in "real life" with links on the internet. You see, most of the NPL events happen off of the internet (where all of my friends call me Tablesaw), so the web presence is naturally still a bit sketchy. Of course, it's there where I met the woman who would become my fiancée as Tablesaw.

And before the NPL, I was on IFmud as Tablesaw. Again, an online space that translated into "real life" friends who call me Tablesaw. There was, for example, the time when a dozen or so of us got together and rented a house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, something that we managed without ever having to use anything but the handles from the MUD.

I don't know if you can see my own posts on G+ while I'm suspended, because I know the technology is still new. The second link is a backup. This link tells the story of the history of being recoginzed as Tablesaw by a small company that you might have heard of called "Google." See, it's hard to document my seven years of using Tablesaw Tablesawsen on my Gmail account as a link, so the best I can do is to tell you about it and assume that you can look up the information on your own. As they say in the legal profession, the documents responsive to your request are already in your custody and control. I can't tell you how to look into the history of my e-mail account, or my web history account (which I've also used since it was brought online).

Though I can show you the place where I've been using a Google social service under the name Tablesaw for four years. (Though, of course, I can't leave comments on most of my friends' pages like I could last month, because they're on Google Plus, and I'm suspended.)

And a further assortment of links to places where I'm known by Tablesaw on line, and where I interact with people who call me Tablesaw offline. Some of those represent places I don't visit much anymore. In fact, one person I encircled was someone from one of those fora with whom I hadn't really had contact in years, and I was so glad that using the name Tablesaw on Google Plus allowed us to find each other. Of course, that connection's gone now.

Finally, one more post from Google Plus, where one of the people I meet with weekly tells someone mocking my name, in no uncertain terms, that Tablesaw's the name they know me by.

Ok, links done, let's talk about your policy.

See, as I mentioned in that letter I sent to you guys last week, despite suspending me a bunch of times and linking me to your progressively updated Names Policy, nobody's actually told me what it is that's wrong with my name.

I understand that you don't want my legal or government-recognized name. That's good, because I don't really want to give it to you. (Though it does raise the question of why you'd asked for a But you do want "the name your friends, family or co-workers usually call you", and I've already given it to you—you've had it for over seven years.

Let's back up. Because, to be honest, there's a problem with your "Common Name" request, which is that I don't have just one common name. I've really got two. One of them I listed as my main profile name (in fact, as I said, I listed it as my main profile name seven years ago), the other I've listed as a nickname under privacy lock. I'm assuming that you can see that, with Google Profile powers, but I'm not going to mention it in this post, because it is, still, an open letter.

You're not really clear on what the difference is between a "common name" and a "nickname" really is. As far as I can tell, my two common names are also nicknames (since neither is, obviously, the name that my local government rigorously identifies me as). Now, I can see how helpful it is to have that other name in my nickname field, locked down under security so that only people whom I choose can see it, but beyond that, I don't see what your problem is with which common name I've placed where.

There's lots of reasons I don't want my other common name up in the big fancy spot on my profile. One reason is that the other nickname is rather close to the name by which the government rigorously identifies me. As you should be aware by now, what with the My Name Is Me campaign and other e-mails I know you're getting, is that making a name like that public opens one up to a lot of different forms of danger. And a lot of that ties into the circumstances I have two common names in the first place. Many people I know are aware of both names, and which they use at any given time is their business (and can switch in the same conversation sometimes). But the people who know me as Tablesaw (which includes a lot of people like my family (Hi, mom!)) have something in common: they are the people with whom I am more willing to share information about my life. And the people who know me only by my other common name are people whom I want to know as little about me as possible.

In other words, the social network that revolves around me as Tablesaw is far more valuable than the one that revolves around me as my other common name. More valuable to me, personally and emotionally, and more valuable to you because I'll be active in sharing with them.

And of course, there's the simple fact that I was here with this name long before Google Plus. When I went to initiate this appeal, the dialogue box that now appears eager to usher in a new name, wiping away years of history informs me that the name I change to is going to be changed in all Google products. Really? When just a month ago, it was perfectly fine for me to use all (and boy, do I mean all) Google products as Tablesaw, now you tell me that name's no good?

Well, maybe you do.

But you know—I know there's a lot of entitlement issues going around with Google Plus—but I do feel, after all this time, that I do deserve to be told why my name's not good enough for you anymore, if for no other reason than so that I can decide if I can change it for you.

Ok. I think that's it.

I hope you read all this, because I guarantee you, someone's going to.

And you know what? Depending on when you read this in relation to when other people read this, you can probably keep going down this page to see a bunch of my friends, friends in "real life"—and I guess I didn't even get to the part where somehow, "offline" is "real life," as though everything that happens on the Internet is somehow fictional (because, really, if online isn't "real life," then what does that make a web-based company like Google?)—tell you how they call me Tablesaw offline too.

I don't know if it even matters anymore.

After seven years, I'm starting to figure out what the cost will be of moving me e-mail address, simply because you think my name's not good enough for you and you won't tell me why.

Okay, it's late and I'm getting maudlin about this.

Best of luck with all this, Google Profiles Team Member. If you've read this far down, you deserve it.

And hell, you know what, I'm going to turn off IP logging, on the off chance that you want to leave a message. Anons get screened, and I won't reveal if you ask me not to.

Bed now. For reals.

Tablesaw out.


Nov. 21st, 2010 05:09 pm
tablesaw: -- (Default)
I spent some time today tagging old entries, getting up to today's date seven years ago.

If you haven't noticed, I have a tag called "meta:declassified, which I use for posts which used to be filtered but now are open for general reading. After seven years, there are a lot of things that don't need to be so close to the vest. I've also been tagging filters, so that you can see what filter a given post is under (or was under).

I've also found myself adding to the breakup tag, with posts from older relationships. That's been interesting to read through, certainly.

Trying to figure out what my plans should be for tonight. Dungeonmaster's finishing the season (with the obvious exception of the all-star show), and I've been invited out with a different friend as well (though the location has its own problems). I'll figure it out soon enough.
tablesaw: A black woman and a white man hold each other on a park bench. Text reads "2004-2010." (Ojouchan)
I've created a new access list for me to talk about my emotions during my breakup. By default, most people with general access to this blog are on this list, with the exception of [ profile] ojouchan and a few mutual friends that I would not feel comfortable venting to at all. You can visit the introductory post to see if you're on the filter.

This filter is not about "picking sides" in the breakup. It's mostly about keeping our emotional fallout sequestered from each other, so that we can move on healthily. But it's also about letting people decide how much they want to hear about that fallout.

In the process of creating the access list, I also renovated my friends lists on LJ and DW. There wasn't anything particularly drastic; most of the people who I removed were inactive journals. However, the undertaking was large enough that I very likely made mistakes.

If you want access (or want renewed access) to this blog or to the breakup filter, you can comment to this post. All responses are screened.

It's over.

Oct. 28th, 2010 08:17 pm
tablesaw: A black woman and a white man hold each other on a park bench. Text reads "2004-2010." (Ojouchan)
[ profile] ojouchan and I have broken up and ended our engagement.

You may or may not know that we've been having troubles and were taking a break. This is not a break; it's over. Please don't question the finality of the decision.

Our friendship remains essentially intact, but it's very difficult for each of us emotionally.

Comments are open, but I'm not entirely comfortable saying much about this publicly yet. I may reach out privately if I haven't already. I may set up a filter to process this.

Please also keep in mind that my family reads this journal and are finding this out too. Mom, Dad, I may not be ready to talk immediately.


Oct. 13th, 2003 10:32 am
tablesaw: Katsuhiko Jinnai, from El Hazard (Jinnai)
I've been trying to write a letter to Ex, but it's not happening. Well, something's happening, but it's not the letter I'm supposed to write. Ex got married last week, and I have yet to say anything about it. The problem is that every time I set down something, I start pouring out my own issues, which isn't the point. And trying to cut all of that out leaves me with something so stiff and impersonal that it's almost and insult. Not what I want to say at all.

(For those just joining us, here's some background for my relationship with Ex and my relationship with Ex after my relationship with Ex: 3/17/2002, 6/22/2002, 9/19/2002 and possibly some other entries I can't find.)

Ex and I became close friends in Washington, D.C, where we attended one year of college together. At the end of that year, we both moved to different colleges, but we kept in close contact, thanks largely to her weekend job as a secretary at a business with a liberal toll-free-phone-line policy. Eventually, on a visit to LA, we started dating, and tried to continue it long-distance off and on for a while.

Breaking up with Ex is directly tied in to my ultimate crash at the end of a very long slide into the depths of depression. I can clearly trace back my depression to my Sophomore year in high school, but I'd always managed, generally, to keep things more or less balanced. Leaving school cut me loose in many ways, and I just got very, very bad. Depression severely warped my perception of reality in the months after I graduated from college, and I alienated my friends and family until I was pinning a lot of my life on my relationship with Ex. That relationship was falling apart because, well, I was falling apart; but I couldn't see/accept it. Eventually, on a long-before-scheduled trip to her home town where she finally, actually, firmly broke up with me, I had a complete breakdown.

Since then, I've been able to put my mind back together to a certain extent, though it's still a journey. Anyway, I need to get back to Ex.

At the end of our "relationship," Ex started seeing someone, whom we will call Xi (because I like saying "Ksaie!"). Considering what I've told you above, and even guessing at my mental state at the time, you can imagine that my view of Xi wasn't very pretty, or very accurate. A lot of my residual rage from that time is directed at him.

If you've looked at my "research" posts, you'll know that Ex and I have been in touch with each other for about a year now, through web journals. I guess this may be a new and interesting use of the Internet, but it's been good for me. I've gotten used to Ex being in my thoughts in new situations, ones that don't involve me being a ranting madman. But with this wedding, I realize that I haven't quite gotten closure on that time in my life. I've moved on, but there's still a little bit open.

I feel like I need to see her again, to solidify the communication we've had since the break up, to know that it's real, to have something slightly more like what we had before things got strange, back when we were friends who could talk for hours about art, philosophy, anime, and anything else.

Also, I need to meet Xi again. No, not again. I don't really think that first time counted. I think I'm better off assuming that I never met Xi and that what I remember from meeting him was just an elaborate imagining from my brain which bears no resemblance to reality. Ex really only talks about Xi tangentially in her journal, so that doesn't really give me a whole lot to go on. I feel like I need some reality to counteract the nightmare of three years ago, so that I can actually see why my friend is marrying him.

Wow. Three years. It's been a long time. I haven't really caught up with that part of my life. It feels more like a year ago. So much wasted space.

I'm still iffy on the letter, so here it is. Any and all suggestions are appreciated before I send this out: Read more... )
tablesaw: -- (Default)
So, what made me sad today?

As I was cleaning up, I found a double word square that I had quickly written for Wendy.

Yes, I'm a geek.
tablesaw: -- (Default)
A while back, I stopped hearing from Wendy at all, and I got a little worried about her. I emailed her asking what was going on, and she eventually responded. But at the end of her message was a paragraph that is confusing me, and I'd like to know what other people think, whether it's just me.
In other news, it's really difficult for me to have normal conversations with you . . . ) Right now I'm just really uncomfortable having contact with you, and I will remain so unless there is some real communication -- AND REAL FRIENDSHIP-BUILDING -- between us.
Communication problems have plagued this relationship for a while, so when these things come up, I start to doubt my on reflections. To me, this just seems like a catch-22. She doesn't want to have casual conversations unless we start FRIENDSHIP BUILDING, but I don't know how that's supposed to happen without casual conversation. "Oh hello, Wendy! Don't ask how I'm doing, I need to tell you about my innermost fears right away." I don't know how I can make this process any faster, and I certainly can't do it if she doesn't want to talk to me. I also don't know how I'm supposed to address her feelings on this. It's not like I'm not hurt and sad about this. I miss her, and I miss talking to her.

I'm just at a loss for this, and I'm not certain that there's anything I can do right now. Any help and perspective would be appreciated.
tablesaw: -- (Default)
These entries that involve Wendy are locked for two reasons. One is that there is at least one person on LJ who is obsessed with her and was able to cryptically deduce that I was seeing her. The other is that she doesn't want to hear about it on my journal (which she reads), and she has asked that I screen any such statements from her friends, many of whom I now read and now read me.

Anyway, I've had That Dog's Retreat from the Sun in my CD player for about a week, ever since [ profile] pbmath mentioned it in a comment. Anyway, it's had a strong hold on me ever since, and I haven't been able to get it out of my stereo or my head. And it's not surprising, since the album's themes play upon my own current issues: infatuation, physical distance, miscommunication, emotional distance, and violins. It's also very upbeat and singable.

So, interested in getting inside my head? Here's some of what I'm thinking about, in lyric form:

Retreat from the Tablesaw )

And that, until further notice is my soundtrack.
tablesaw: -- (Default)
My last entry was written quickly, in a fury at LiveJournal for deleting my original post. I quite forgot that some of the information in the lost post was important. Like the fact that Wendy and I broke up last week.

I wrote all about the stuff leading up to it, but I don't feel like writing them again. I didn't feel like writing them in the first place, but knew that I had to do it anyway, to get it out of my head. Now, they're mostly out, and I don't want to repeat it all over again. But, in terms of the aftermath, Wendy's really depressed right now, was already, independent of the break-up. Like much of her depression, it's keyed into employment, or lack thereof. But now, she's also trying to deal with her first "amicable" break-up. One which doesn't leave one with the aid of deep loathing for the other person involved to get through things.

She woke up in tears, and cornered me on AIM asking why the relationship would be over if we're still fond of each other. Well, that's not prescisely true; she knew the reasons why. When we broke up, it was clear to us both that communication between us had a tendency to fall to pieces at a moments notice, so we were both mentally ready to go back to being friends, but now she's wracked with guilt that she may have screwed up something good.

I know we're still friends, but I don't really feel capable of being the main person in charge of helping her get over our relationship. I've got my own getting over of it to do. Beyond that, I'm also worried about her feeling depressed.

So, this is still very disjointed, but maybe that helps a little bit more.


Aug. 5th, 2003 06:35 am
tablesaw: -- (Default)
I was writing about my relationship with Wendy, was 80% of the way through, and the window disappeared. I don't know what happened.

I'm pissed. There's an emotional load on me from the relationship that I can't shake. She's really depressed right now, and I can't deal with it. I want to be friends, but I need some away time. I can't deal with every little thing.

Why doesn't she believe me when I say that she's dangerously depressed and needs help? Why can't she seal with this for a second without me.

This and more is what I'm channeling into Puzzle Pirates. Also why I'm not cleaning my pigsty of a room. [ profile] wjukknibs, want to go out for breakfast this week? Please?


Sep. 19th, 2002 11:06 am
tablesaw: -- (Default)
So, as I mentioned earlier, Ex has begun reading and commenting in my journal. I'm actually kind of glad. This may be a way to painlessly restart a friendship, from a distance.

She also directed me to her own webjournal. I don't feel comfortable giving the address even in this smaller area, but let me reprint a section I found early on.

I tried to work out (alone, in my head) a breakup that I had a long time ago... )

As you can imagine, this struck me pretty hard. But really, I don't have anything more to say, I think, than what I posted as a response:

So, yeah, I found you... )

I don't think there's much more to say, and I need to get to bed. Must wake up for Survivor Thailand, you know.

A change.

Jun. 22nd, 2002 08:59 am
tablesaw: -- (Default)
Recently, somthing happened that made me question the way that I run my journal. I made a brief post about my Ex on a very trivial matter. Within hours, I received an email from Ex saying that a "mutual acquaintance" had mentioned my concern over the email and proceeded to explain what had happened. She also mentioned that said person did seem to ahve talked to me in person. Which makes sense because after I posted the entry, I proceeded to forget the entire thing, until I got the second email. I certainly didn't mention it to anyone who, to my knowledge, knows Ex.

So someone who reads my journal, practically immediately contacted Ex about it. Ex admonished me saying that if I had felt slighted I should have just written her. Well, I wasn't going to write her and ask her about it because I knew that by doing so I'd just look silly. I know I can become paranoid at times, but I also know that it's usually for no reason. So while the email unsettled me enough to make me put up an entry expressing my confusion, in no way was I demanding or expecting an answer. But somebody has taken that confusion out of context and thrown it to Ex without my permission.

It had been my assumption that anyone reading my journal would have the sense to keep a certain sense of privacy about it. Instead, someone seems to be using it as grist for a gossip mill. And I'm pissed off.

I don't believe that Ex knew about my journal until I told her. If she did, there really was no reason for her not to tell me. I do have a short list of who I think it is and to what extent their actions may have been malicious.

I'm not upset that Ex may know things about my journal. In fact, I've given her the URL. I'm not even upset someone reading my journal would be someone I may not like or someone who may be in contact with Ex or both. I'm upset most greatly by the speed with which this gossip traveled. There was not a long period of time for someone to read the journal and inform Ex and then for Ex to email me, which makes me wonder if these types of updates have been occurring for quite a while. I am upset that whoever was sharing things I wrote in my journal with Ex didn't tell me. And I'm angry at the way I was taken out of context. I do not want to censor myself any more than I logically have to. If this means that future posts regarding Ex will be friends-locked, so be it, but I'm not going to spend the rest of my journal wondering what whispers it's fostering.

So long as I suspect that the information in my journal is going to be bounced around be people I know or used to know in ways that will come back to hurt me, I am forced to limit access to my posts. It is my intention that, after this matter is resolved, I'll revise these posts and remove the security restrictions on them. But this journal has become a part of my life, just like a more private journal, and I don't want to let one jerkoff completely shut-off an outlet for my writing.

If any of you now on this list know both Ex and me, let me know, now. I need closure on this.

FriLATX: 6:15. SatNYTX: 18. I'm having trouble with the crossing of 40D and 44A. SatLATX: 9:30.
tablesaw: -- (Default)
Vacation is ending, and I feel very alone.

I woke myself up at five a.m. to watch a sunrise that was obscured by clouds that weren't on the horizon last night and will be gone completely by the time we check out of the house at ten. Nobody else in this house or, apparently, any other nearby house had the desire to try same.

Two nights ago I slept in the lounge for the same reason, to set my alarm for five a.m. with the hope of watching the sun be on the wrong side of the day. I stayed up late drinking with my housemates and fell asleep to the susurrations of a slightly more than tipsy woman and her devoted lover, who stood a hawklike vigil over her while she drank water and whispered herself to sleep. The whole thing left me feeling odd.

I miss Ex, more right now than I have in a while, undoubtedly due, in no small part, to the fact that two of the most beautiful and brilliant women I've met are here in this house with me, both of whom bear a more than passing resemblance to Ex. When one walks by, glowing with love for her beau, my body twists in memory and anticipation. But I don't wish that Ex and I were still together and lying together on the beach, nor do I wish that one of the women here were with me instead of her actual boyfriend. I want something more encompassing and more fundamental.

When Ex and I broke up and I had my life-shattering breakdown, I lost a lot of people I love, not just Ex. "You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else" says an old saw, and I've seen enough to know it's true. I lost loves and friendships because I wasn't able to give them the love I once did. And for quite a while after that time, while I was rebuilding myself, I certainly didn't miss the requirement, the need to pour out love I didn't yet have.

It's about a year and a half later, and I've started to ache. It started when veek visited. She came to LA with an openness to be loved and a life I now envy so much, a life with many people with whom she can commune. I responded more earnestly than I could have expected, more emotionally than I had in over eighteen months, leaving my weak and trying to find, again, what I was missing.

I worry now. The ache of love shakes me all over, and I am not certain I can stay alive if warehouses of compassion must be left untouched to mold and mildew.

How do I tell the people here (and only certain people, at that) that I'd be willing to lay down my life for them? It's not so much a matter of friendship and camaraderie or good conversations and shared experiences, it's instinct. How can I do it without needing to disclaim, "And I'm not a crazy stalker-type, honest!" And how do I become a friend again when, within hours, everyone will once again be hundreds and thousands of miles away?

There's one person here, possibly (hopefully) two, who knows how I feel, and that is a blessing. I'd probably be feeling less disoriented today if I'd had a chance to talk with either of them earlier yesterday.

I want a lover, today, so that I can hold her in my arms and tell her that I love her and that I will always love her and that I would do anything for her and that I would lay down my life for her and that I would go to the ends of the earth for her and that I would turn my back on Heaven's gates if the politics of God and the afterlife prevent her from entering Paradise. I want to hold her and while doing it, also say the same to so tell her so many others who wouldn't or couldn't understand.

The sun is up, and the clouds are gone, and I have to pack.

I've still had a great time, and enjoyed this week as much as, if not more than, any other vacation in my life, but card games and Clone Wars can wait for a while to be recorded, this can't. I hope you understand. See you at home.

The ring.

Mar. 17th, 2002 07:13 am
tablesaw: -- (Default)
Yesterday I received an email from my ex-girlfriend letting me know that she was engaged. I have yet to respond.

It was a difficult break-up, but I'm over the fact that we've broken up and that's just how it's going to be from now on. The problem is that the break-up was and is enmeshed with my battle with depression. A short version of the story goes: "She broke up with me over a year ago because my depression had become so acute that my personality became almost unrecognizable. After she said so to my face, I cleaned up my act, but we remained broken up."

So now, I've been depressionless for a long time, but this girl still brings the pain and agony of that time to me. It's nothing to do with her, she's just the catalyst. In my mind, I know that she's happy, and I'm glad, and I wish her the best. But in my heart, there's still a very tender wound. Of course, she didn't make the wound either. I did. And that makes it harder to heal.

I've tried the "let's stay friends" thing. We were very close friends before we dated, and she is one of the smartest people I've ever met; but the association of her with my depression and angst is still too strong. I wonder, sometimes, if I saw her again, in a different situation, things might be better--just to have another image of her after this event, a new image that doesn't have me sobbing or trembling. But who knows if that will work either. Time heals all wounds, say the people who have to say something, but some take longer than other. And when I come to a point like this, I almost feel as though I'm letting her down again, as though I'm letting my depression keep my from being even a friend to her. Almost. I know that it isn't true.

(Side note that it doesn't help that her new fiancee is the guy who she was seeing when we broke up. Lots of negativity there, mostly jealousy and self-loathing, so I've absolutely no basis for objective thought in that matter.)

The whole thing resides in an emotional blind spot--or maybe less of a blind spot than a sunspot, bright light that burns the eye upon examination. So even after my emotions have settled I can still think of nothing to say.


tablesaw: -- (Default)
Tablesaw Tablesawsen

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