I was so excited for my holiday plans. We were going to do a long drive, bring mashed potatoes and cookies, catch up with people I don’t see often, play some tabletop, and snuggle my partner post feast-and-DnD. Mindful of the fact that we’re in flu season and still in a pandemic and I’m trying to travel responsibly and health concerns of other family members, I asked about their COVID precautions.

And let’s just say, they fell short.

There is still enough in me to be extremely disappointed. Because I thought they’d be better, for their ailing parents. For their children. For their loved ones. For complete strangers who can’t protect themselves as well, for health or other reasons– but as we’ve seen that part is just too hard for most people.

For the fact that COVID is still around, still serious, and still something to consider.

So today, I don’t know what we’ll be doing instead. I’ll just grab stuff to cook and wine to drink while I cook and just wing it with my own loved ones. The ones that still give a shit about this whole pandemic thing, anyway. And I’m going to go ahead and assume Christmas will be the same way.

So, uh, Happy Thanksgiving. Or as I like to call it, Happy “Surround Yourself with Loved Ones and Celebrate Another Year Surviving This Colonialist Hell” Day. Stay safe. Mask often. Get your boosters. Test a lot. Still take COVID seriously.

https://www.okdoomer.io/everything-that-friend-wants-you-to-know-about-covid/

FUCK TRUMP

Fuck every one of you who voted for him.

Fuck the system for not being broken, but working just as intended.

To the Queers, the Black and Brown People, The Poor, The Disabled, The Marginalized, and anyone else terrified and angry and numb and everything else:

I know you’re scared right now. I am, too. And I’m feeling despair right along with you.

But remember. We will have each other. Remember mutual aid, community, helping one another.

It is long past to be trying to change people’s minds. The numbers have made it abundantly clear we can’t olive branch ourselves out of this one.

Use your energy to lift up those that will lift you up.

Don’t feel bad if you can’t fight. We need warriors. Healers. Tanks.
But most importantly, we need you to survive.

“Don’t panic. Organize!”

Even better, join those that have been organized.

But it’s okay if all you can do is keep living.

They want you to die, or they don’t care.

Don’t let them take you.

Every so often there is invoked a Blood of Eden mission protocol – we call it Protocol One. It is used in times of either terrible joy or the worst possible outcomes. Protocol One means there are no more formal orders… Now I give you Protocol One . . . and Protocol One is ‘Live.’ Nona the Ninth

For those applicable, enjoy your lil victory lap and be sure to get your stretches in. The lot of us are going to give you hell.

I’m going to do what I can. I am going to live for those that didn’t make it. I will live and fight my sorrow. I hope to see you beside me.

Now to survey what is left.

It’s a rough month for me. I know I say this every year, but truly. It has every reason to be.

Some of the most harrowing events of my personal life occurred during this month. I try not to ruminate (weak emphasis on try) but I just end up stressing myself out by remembering. I also like to think that things just happen around this time, and I finally have a theory for it: SAD. It’s getting colder, and it’s becoming easier to just go home, curl up in bed, and shut off. Things hit harder. Everyone’s groove is off as we slide into the colder parts of the year.

And every four years, there’s the additional stressor of whether democracy (oligarchy) will continue limping along or this will be The One to finally… something. I don’t know. Something bad, most likely. And this year the dread is at a fever pitch.

I can admit that I am scared. I have to, to be realistic. But no amount of therapy is going to make the reality any easier. I can cope all day but what’d be the point if my rights are stripped away, if I am not safe? I’m grappling with the possibility that I won’t be safe any more. Or, I was just lucky all this time, and that luck is finally bleeding out.

What next, then?

We’ll still have each other.

I will keep going for those that can’t.

If it calls for it, I will despair.

I will feel.

But I’ll put the steel back in my spine.

I will cope the best I can.

Then I will begin.

For our self-defense class with Forge, our homework was to create our own personal Bill of Rights– we go over techniques to create and enforce our boundaries. Here’s a rough draft of what I have, via alphabetical order. I jotted down the first thing that came to mind, and the items in italics are the ones I like the best.

…also an excuse to test some new plugins.


assess my energy level at any time, and adjust accordingly

be prepared

cause a scene to be heard

devalue those that would devalue me

engage in ways that honor me

find peace

get to safety

help in ways that i can

instinct- follow it

joy – feel it

keep on truckin’

leave

mind my manners / mindfulness

need to express myself in healthy ways

only observe (no participation is mandatory)

protect

quote

rest

stay balanced

talk it out

use examples

vent (again, in a healthy way)

wax poetic

xylophone (I got nuthin’)

yield

z (again, nuthin)

You look so familiar but I can’t figure out

Why I think that I recognize ya, don’t know what it’s about

It’s like a parallel existence, but I know that’s fiction

Or is it? Or is it?

Altern8 Endings by Mega Ran

Two scenarios are illustrated, two separate paths taken.

Mega Ran, initially, wanted to be a dentist! So the track takes us to his office with the Wu-Tang albums and degrees on the wall, and he comments how he grew into the profession: it just came so easily to him; it was obvious. After the chorus, he’s then a principal of a high school (and in fact, IRL, he was a teacher before he was unceremoniously shitcanned). He cared about his kids enough to give them pep talks and wake-up calls. In both paths rapping was still a passion, be it a humble a rap listener or someone who freestyles with the students as a reward for not neglecting their studies.

My frequent trips to Rumination Station usually concern the choices I’ve (not) made. My thoughts aren’t as talented as a nerdcore rapper, but you get the gist.

I wonder if I took my Most Likely to… award I got in 8th grade seriously (instead of the bullying) and hadn’t given up on art?

Or I followed of the footsteps of my oldest friend and into journalism?

Or I heeded my dad’s advice and got into the medical field?

Or I took my love for cartoons a step further, and vowed to create my own?

Or if my affinity for wind instruments and singing didn’t atrophy?

What if I understood object-oriented programming and moved away from designing?

Or, what if I loved magazines more than web pages?

What if I kept that spark from my science-fiction short story in English class, of the teacher reading it out loud and the rest of my peers leaning forward, enraptured?

If I remembered when a friend said that he really loved my poems and I should be published?

What if I settled for an administrative job from the get-go? Or, like my mom, I worked my way up from production floor to cubicle?

I wonder what options I would have had if I’ve graduated at a better time, from a different school. If I wasn’t forced to pivot into unrelated fields to keep the bills paid.

If I had picked up a trade.

If circumstances were different.

If. If. If.

What would I be like? Would I still be blogging, and writing for fun? Would I still love tinkering with computers? Would I be in any position to ease children’s fears and give teenagers guidance? Would I be playing video games a lot more, or would barely have time for them?

Would I love it? Would I hate it?

What even was my calling? Did I have one?

Would I be more content?

Honestly, I don’t know. That’s always a possibility, isn’t it?

Bloganuary writing prompt: What is your favorite animal?

I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count. (Cats are a close second.)

Sonic popping out of a manhole, saying Hedgehog. Noun. A burrowing animal.
This panel gets a lot of mileage.

Let’s get the obvious reason out of the way: nostalgia! Not only is Sonic the Hedgehog my favorite color, but I grew up in the 90s as the Cooler Mario hit our TV screens. I loved the games, enjoyed both cartoons, and I read just about every damn issue of the Archie Comics series (and I am subscribed to IDW’s current run). Oh, and Sonic was totally my boyfriend as I pretended to be Princess Sally, crawling and climbing on the wooden playgrounds to thwart Dr. Robotnik’s plans.

…Anyway.

I relate to the hedgie. I relate to hedgehogs so much, my ALBI FACTS are cribbed from actual hedgehog trivia. I have terrible eyesight, solitary (introverted), and I seem most active at night. Being in the hedges is also a great time. Oh, and I make weird noises. And I bite. And, depending on who you ask, my Black queer ass could be illegal in 7 states if things keep going the way they are.

For fun, I like thinking about astrology things. Virgos are Earth signs, right? So it stands to reason that we can associate symbols or animals that are related to the earth, to Virgo. And if burrowing in gardens isn’t earthy, I don’t know what is.

I deal (as most of us do) with what the science types call The Hedgehog Dilemma. In my own words: It’s when you want to get close to another hedgehog, but if you do, you’ll very likely poke and be poked by quills. And if you have any empathy, you’ll think twice before snuggling up to a quill-less critter because you might end up hurting them, since they don’t have the same defenses. But to be human, sometimes you just gotta risk it.

…But I am willing to risk getting hurt sometimes. Perhaps it’s inevitable.

Sometimes, it’s worth it.

Amazing Facts About [Me]

And that, ultimately, is why I can relate to the spiny creature so much– because it embodies the struggle of a one-bitten-twice-shy-and-guarded-introvert, but also looks really cute while doing so. And while hogging the hedges.

You know what they say, “New Year, New Me!” I’ve stopped knocking people that say that, but I feel like that doesn’t fit me, personally. I like declaring “New Year, Same Me– with Improvements!” Or something equally corny.


And I figure it’s a good time as any to update my blog, yeah?


Queer Qwanzaa Reflection


I did not do a big ol’ post like I did last year– it’s very turned inward, in contrast, but it does incorporate into my New Year goals quite a bit.


I strive to improve on most common goals people set for this year: I really do need to work out more, and eat more vegetables; in general, improve my health especially in light of new chronic illnesses. And I’d like to cook more, especially! I have a few cookbooks with my name on them. And most of them are plant-based or vegetarian.


As for educational and career aspiration, I keep my skills sharp by practicing and keeping abreast on the new hot things like 11ty. For fun, I’m still on Glitch, and I’ve set up an obligatory Github account (but since design is my strength, I should look into something else?). Lately I’ve had the nostalgic urge to really kick it old school, so I finally dusted off my NeoCities account. One of the many personal projects I’m considering would definitely be a redesign of my current Link-in-Bio.


And oh, boy: this is also an election year. I’m prepared to call out misinformation and fascism. And I must be visible so people know that not only do I exist, but that it is possible to exist like this.


Social House


A friend of mine made a very poignant statement last month:


My resolution is to not be waiting at the door for people that’ll never arrive.

“J.J.”


I do need to start showing up for the people that value me as a person and worthy of their time, not ruminating over those that haven’t otherwise expressed interest in my life. I’ve talked about this before, and I’ve made note of the exceptions, but that is my biggest goal for this year.


That can get lonely. And, well, it is. But that is what community is for. I need to be more active in the safer spaces I am a member of. If I have the bandwidth, maybe find others to partake in.


The Fun Stuff


Meme Template from The Good Place.

First Panel: a shaken Chidi saying, "I... I just saw... a trillion... different realities folding... onto each other like thin sheets of metal forming... a single blade..."

Next panel is Michael dismissively stating "Yeah, yeah, the WIP FOLDER, we've all seen it."
I got my work cut out for me.


I’m done a pretty good job journaling, but I can work on blog posts and telling y’all a little more about my life. I plan to utilize prompts a lot more! I am not terribly exciting most days (and, honestly, something I am grateful for) so I’ll need to be pointed in the write (ha ha ha ha) direction.


I’d like to improve my habit of doing writing things. I’ve signed up to Get Your Words Out this year, and I plan on participating in National Poetry Writing Month in April. 750 Words also has monthly challenges that I can consider.


But it’s not just outward voice bloggy posts. I’d like to work on more fiction. To get myself primed I’ve been dragging fanfiction out of the WIP folders and working on them. I’ve even cleaned up and ported some ancient stuff! Additionally additionally, maybe even put together a poetry book (Can you believe the thing I’m stuck on the most is having a freaking title!?).


Wanna write good? Read a lot.

A lot of writers, famous and otherwise


I want to be a better writer. So I’m making more time to read. I rediscovered my joy of just getting lost in books, and want to keep that feeling. With 200 books and stories between my eReader and To-Read pile on The Storygraph, I won’t have a shortage of material. It’s only a matter of what to read next.


And oh, to return to streaming and vtubing. I fell off near the end of last year, and I was just shy of the coveted 100 Followers on Twitch. I’ve received some additional stressors to my life, to put it simply, and had to take an unofficial hiatus. I am fine, and I will be fine, I just needed time to regroup. I’m trying not to beat myself up over it.


The Short of It


My goals aren’t the most lofty, but they mean a lot to me. While I’m doubling down on the Stuff I Need To Do, the mindfulness to not neglect hobbys and career advancement will keep me sane. Well, so I hope.


And, you know, be gay, throw bricks. Always. <3

This still counts if I post it on the very last day of October. Happy Halloween. I was hesitant to post this. Depression is a bitch.


Whether it’s pure coincidence, metaphysical weirdness, brain chemistry, or yet another example of my moral failings, the roughest time of the year is upon me again. I have a pretty good previous month to look back on, but that doesn’t matter. The veil is thinnest here, the one between my insecurities and happiness. I’m haunted by my mistakes, supposed and otherwise.


But, I wrote a poem. And it started off with


Between Deftones and an oat milk latte and still flying high from Janelle Monae

I stopped caring.

“I Wish I Could Float”


And maybe it will stick this time. The Not Caring (Too Much).


I thought it funny to have my birthday party on the last day of September, technically Libra season, but I also declared that month my Birthday Month so y’all can’t be mad anyway. I suppose it’s my way of demanding space from a lifetime of feeling like I’m always someone’s backburner afterthought: whether it’s being dehumanized by society, de-prioritized by algorithms, simply ghosted, left on read for a month, or the consequences of setting myself up as the Low-Maintenance Person Thing.


Some of it I’ll just have to live with. We all have busy lives, some more busy than others, and as I keep saying: the years since COVID-19 hit the scene have been particularly tough. Answering texts isn’t exactly as important as trying to survive. I allow grace for that; to not would be hypocritical of me. And some folks just don’t think about me as much as I think about them; I can’t change that but I can adjust accordingly.


But I can be mad at say, Facebook, which only exacerbates my loneliness.


Because I’ve forgotten that we are alone by default.


Perhaps this is just me rationalizing my sometimes-crippling desire for closeness. But– hang on– wait– you can find a whole buncha quotes that have a more positive spin on that concept. A quick Ecosia search spits out a few by, like, important people or at least people with really recognizable names. I especially like Welles’ thought on the subject. I even reblogged it on my Tumblr once, with a graphic from Final Fantasy XIII. Trust me, that combination worked.


We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.

Orson Welles


I’m currently in the process of crystalizing my own “spin” on being alone and/or lonely. Put simply,


I’m open,

Show up

or

Don’t

“I Wish I Could Float”


That is definitely a work in progress. It’s just a touch too flippant. I need to convey something softer, too, and that not everyone gets such an invite– only the ones that give a shit about my existence.


I was an only kid for the first decade of my life, so I’ll be alright. And I’ll be okay in the end, because in the end we’re all alone anyway. But that doesn’t mean we all can’t keep each other company.


I’ll let you know where I am– especially when the “being alone” is revealed as “loneliness”. I’ll reach out when I can, from off-hand “I’ll be here, tag along?” to “We haven’t got lost in IKEA for awhile, now” to “date me, you walnut.” If you’d like to spend time with me, that’s awesome. If no one responds I guess that’d suck.


Keep me company. If you want to.

In addition to my favorite news feeds and the growing list of webcomics, I keep up with a lot of blogs. Remember when RSS was a lot more prominent? I still use that technology! And I’m still mad that Google killed GReader.


As I caught up with my subscriptions on Feedly, one of my favorite blogs had, what she called, a “vulnerable post.” It is American Girl Outsider and how she has been doing the past while.


Depression is a fucking liar of a mental illness. It tells you that no one loves you, no one wants you, that you don’t and aren’t wanted anymore, and that the world would be better if you weren’t here mucking it all up. It gives you ahedonia and lack of appetites and you might sleep too much or not enough. It steals your ability to write, read, draw, sew, craft, create, or anything.

And all I could think, as I sat there having missed something I cared so hard about, was that by the time I got to it, who would care what I had to say? Who cared about anything I had to say?

American Girl Outsider


That hit pretty hard.


I also have depression. It has been around for longer, but actively managed for almost years now– and you guessed right: the start of the pandemic was what tipped me past my breaking point and made me get help. Some days are still harder than others. I have more tools at my disposal along with some chemical help, but sometimes…


There were times I’ve thought of quitting. And I have, twice (the-one-i-can’t-remember and verbose/terse). Three if you include Dreamwidth— neglected or conscious decision? It’s the same in the end; I’ve stopped updating publicly there. But, whether I have an audience or not, the writing has been good for me. And despite my low-key schedule, I do enjoy Vtubing even with 0 viewers. I try to make time for the things I enjoy, regardless.


Scheduling is hard. And, like Nethilia, I beat myself up for missing the releases of things I was psyched about. It’s halfway through October; is anyone still interested in me Vtubing with ValiDATE? It released in September without my notice through a depression fog. And generally, October is and has been a rough month for me– and National Coming Out Day has been forgotten. Again.


I have drafts, but lately it has been a struggle to get them out. I have prompts I can’t expand through the fog.


I’ll schedule this; it’s all I got. My calendar is intimidating and So Much right now.