Category: slice of life

Generic Life Stuff as I go about my days.

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I love my eReader! I have the Kobo Libre2, and I take it practically everywhere. I grew up with this sage advice, and thanks to technology it is even easier to follow it:

Always carry a book with you.

I do a lot of waiting. In the DMV line? Partner got caught behind a gnarly snarl on the interstate for our date and they’re going to be an hour late? Computers down at work? Doing laundry? Arrive to every event super early because your anxiety demands that you do so? Bust out a book and bam, got something to pass the time.

The only downside– if I can call it that– is they act like giant over-ear headphones in use: people come up to you and start a conversation anyway. Fortunately, most of my interactions that interrupt a fascinating paragraph are also book readers, and understand not to take too much of my time. Unless we get caught up with talking about books, of course. Ultimately, I find it a net positive to connect with someone over a mutual passion, despite my initial introverted annoyance.

I’ve recently had once such ultra-friendly waitstaff during a solo date. She asked me what book I was reading, and I may gone on a lengthy spiel about the science fiction I enjoy (the harder, the better– I grew up on Asimov and he basically had two dudes talk about science stuff most of the time). Egghead shit, I guess. But since we both liked scifi, I came away with a recommendation.

"There are women. And there are aliens on this ice planet."

"Can I make it any more obvious?" I laughed, happy to shoehorn a reference to the early 2000s and picking up exactly what she was putting down.

"You might think I’m a freak."

I laughed at that too because… listen y’all. I’m also a freak. To her Ice Planet Barbarians by Ruby Dixon, I left a rec of my own.

I scrawled on the receipt, Neon Gods (Dark Olympus series) by Katee Robert. Less of an endorsement and more of a "I hope they’ll like it better than I did." It was written well and it frankly, was pretty hot, but I couldn’t shake off those Eight Deadly Words for me, not to mention the few nitpicks I had. (I did make a note to check out how later books in the series; she’s written non-monogamous relationships– if it’s as good as her writing about BDSM consent, I think I’d still have a good time.)

I rarely wander into the romance genre, but I have been trying to read out of my comfort zone. I was more than happy to have this as my "Up Next" on my StoryGraph.

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If I remember correctly, it was Watership Down where i first came across the idea that straight lines were unnatural, because Man (as a species) makes them. The rabbits were discussing a line(another word) of trees. looking down from the window seat of the airplane and seeing long, uncannily even swatches of flattened paths, I can see that. its unnerving and rigid compared to the rivers and curvier clay roads.

For someone that hasnt been on a plane in yesrs, I was pretty calm. … well, my normal amount of calm. being thrown into unrehearsed situations tend to throw me, so i was flailing through the checkin and security lines, apologizing profusely.

Awkward really rough drafts aside,
I really needed that vacation.

It was good to have a change of scenery and not have to worry about The Usual Stuff. Or, if I still did, at least it was on the beach with a coconut drink and surrounded by beautiful flora.

I also felt some things dislodge and I was finally able to get some more drafts and ideas done.

I feel like I had a RESET of sorts. Refreshed.

I went with a partner and a meta, with a perfect blend of group adventures and smaller sidequests. I learned quite a bit from my much-more traveled companions, too. Like, how to pack. I had no idea what I was doing.

We ate some pretty awesome meals, and lounged, and was bounced around as we traveled to our lodgings and destinations.

I feel like I did not get enough swimming in this year, so I more than made up for it! (I’m still getting beach sand out of my ears– worth it.)

Some things I also really enjoyed:

  • sleeping – no rowdy neighbors banging above my head from 8pm til midnight
  • the sun
  • the rocks, and shells
  • the trees
  • the hiking
  • learning about the country and culture
  • being immersed in another language
  • the open air layout of most structures
  • sloths, rodents, and various critters
  • getting a lot of reading in
  • not clenching my teeth as much
  • I climbed a tree
  • I PICKED UP A CAT

I felt pretty refreshed upon my return– this in spite of the dubious food at the airport "Carolina Pizza Chicken." I should’ve stuck with a local joint for our return trip. Don’t trust anywhere that has chicken-on-pizza as their selling point!

And hey, enough reading! I know why you’re really here. THE PICTURES. Scenery so great not even my budget phone camera could ruin it. I didn’t take nearly as many as I should have– I let the other two with better equipment take the bulk of ’em– but hey, say I was in the moment enjoying it. 🙂

Click Here for the Costa Rica Gallery

¡Pura Vida!

The volano in the distance at dusk, with a cloud covering the top of it. Aww, man.

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I like making my salads fancy. Here’s a recent one; it had

artisan (fancy green and purple) lettuce

baby spinach and arugula

mint leaves

green onion

carrot (matchstick/shredded)

radish, thinly sliced

strawberry

Spices included black pepper, basil, parsley, and garlic (dried and minced).

I chopped and sliced and tossed everything together with a little avocado oil. I should’ve added more mint. What do I call it?

Kitten in Tongs Salad.

Because we referenced the meme before I went to the grocery store.

A meme with someone incredulously asking why there was a kitten being held with tongs. The answer? Salad.

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So for funsies, I’m making a pronouns.page account and when I’m not looking up the unfamiliar terms, I’m wrapped up in the nuances of

  • agender
  • neutrois
  • nonbinary
  • gendervoid
  • genderqueer

And. So. On.

I love noodling over stuff like this. This is why I appreciate and enjoy microlabels. For the people that need them, they can convey exactly what they mean. And for ruminating introspective overthinkers such as myself, it is like a really good snack that I can’t put down.

I started out genderqueer… then neutrois… non-binary… now I’m feeling agender nowadays. Maybe gendervoid. Definitely staticgender–

Derek from The Good Place saying "there is television static where my gender should be."
I love making these.

–and oh my glob do not get me started on xenogenders we could be here all day! and neopronouns—

Ahem.

Some are happy with their Factory Settings, but I was always one of those folx who’ll mess with the settings menu and layout and colors until I get it just right. And change them again whenever.

It’s so cool how we can just customize our experience like this. If we want to.

All this creativity. We did that. We do that.

Fascinating.

…

…Maybe I’m genderfluid on a technicality.

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GOD save us from Your Followers
I’m still waiting on a god to do this.

That was the very first bumper sticker I ever put on my car… let’s say, almost two decades ago. Out of all the packers, rainbows, wigs, and glitter in that little LGBTQ shop, that was the item I ultimately came away with. It said everything I needed to say: I don’t have a problem with the whole god concept… I have a problem with the people that do horrible things in the name of their god. You don’t need to go far into the recent news cycles– and take note of the context of where I bought said bumper sticker– to see exactly what I mean.

When I slapped that thing on, I was a bit naive (or a bit dim): I didn’t think about any confrontation I may have had to endure. In the Bible Belt. And twice I was walked up to and asked to explain what I meant by that bumper sticker. Fortunately, everyone involved remained civil (the other party didn’t escalate and I kept my composure). I was also fortunate that they seemed satisfied with my response and didn’t get belligerent or even violent– doubly so when it was white folks stepping up to me, a Black stranger.

What was my answer? I simply had to Not All Religious People out those conversations. I specified “only the bad ones, and I assume you’re not one of them since we’re having a rational discussion in a parking lot instead of giving me an asphalt sandwich.”

I did have one more incident, and I promise it’s a funny one: I was dropping someone off and we were stopped at a red light. A car comes up behind me, and in the rearview mirror I see the driver absolutely losing his shit. It was after I stopped panicking that I realized that he was laughing, clapping, and pointing to the back of my car before giving me a thumbs up: turns out, that bumper sticker made his day.

I thought of that guy in my commute to work today, and I hope he’s living his best life.

I also thought of that bumper sticker… and how I’d probably get assaulted over it nowadays. Sigh.

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As the WordPress environment is set aflame by one guy throwing a tantrum and lawyers sending each other strongly worded leaflets, I’m just sitting here glad that I made the switch to ClassicPress months ago. And, not for the first time, I noticed a trend in my social media restructuring: when it isn’t FOSS or decentalised, the sites I’m now most active on is a fork or reconstruction of what I grew up with.

While NekoWeb is admittedly a stretch (free hosting never went out of style), I have listed it because of how nostalgic it has made me. It’s what I keep repeating: the Old Web and how people used to build and decorate their online spaces. However, two services are forked from earlier concepts of their modern-day counterparts:

  • 2018: WordPress 5.0 introduced the Block system
  • Dreamwidth forked from LJ as early as 2009

And SpaceHey is basically resurrected MySpace from the early 2000s or so… I was never on that platform proper pre-botched migration (it got better). It’s been interesting to see how it was, right now… and not as a kid, but an adult that does their own taxes and everything. I would’ve loved MySpace, especially for the hack to inject CSS. And I’m liking it now as an alternative to Facebook.

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Sometimes I give in to the impulse to reach out to people I lost contact with. The results can be… jarring. Especially when the other party stayed the fucking same. Wait, no. That doesn’t seem fair. I suppose everyone is dynamic– it’s just a matter of how they changed.

If it feels like someone didn’t change at all, then what they always seemed to be is just more obvious. That was how I felt when one of the oldest friends briefly flared back into my life. With distance and growth, I saw them as they always were. The friend, on the other hand, was stunned at how different I’ve become (“Glowed up” was how an acquaintance put it). And I could see that, like, of course I did, and I was offended. I remember thinking What on earth did you do these X amount of years, stagnate?!

Well, no.

They just moved perpendicular to how I did. Our catching-up stories included eyerolls at the same pratfalls we keep making, but we laughed in delight as we traded news about a new hobby or love we found because of course we’d be into that, should’ve seen it coming.

Then again… the only person that underwent change could’ve been just me. I knew a friend group that’s frozen in time. A good damn almost-decade later it had shrunk down to the bare essentials and core folx. And oh, yo, have I outgrown a lot of shit. My prime objective no longer meshed with their mission, and our attempts to work around that fact caused significant friction.

And I think a lot about my post-college growing and learning when I was in my second Serious Relationship. Not only was I finding additional facets of my queerness, but I was putting words and concepts together about how I move around in this world and how it treats me. Frankly, my then-partner couldn’t keep up. We split due to the growing incompatibilities– and that included what I would no longer tolerate. We couldn’t make it work as amicable exes either, for the same reason.

Change happens, always, always in flux.

You either outgrow or grow into or reveal.

If you find us walking along the same beach, I suppose I’ll ask if you’ll change with me. I expect you to. I’d be worried if you didn’t.

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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)

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If it’s one thing I’ll always love about dressing up, it’s all the accessorizing. Combinations are limitless, and your flair can be as small or large as you want it. I have a full shelf dedicated to various jewelry sets (most of it loud costume-y pieces), buttons, and pins– not to mention all the bags and purses threatening to fall on my head every time I open the closet door, and my growing collection of headbands.

My bling (we used to say that– do we still say that?) veers toward nerdy (a Kingdom Hearts necklace), pretty, quirky (chainsaw earrings), retro, and classy-because-I-had-to-be. The pins and buttons were reserved for that extra oompth and/or random silly thing. What was missing were all the pronoun buttons I amassed over the years…

I was taking a Staycation and spent a few days checking out the local queer film fest. I was having a blast, shooting the shit with new people as we got a card game started.

Then I heard it: the wrong one.

"Yo," I interject, "I use they/them." I tried to add a little humor as I pointed to my pronoun button: "It’s right here next to my cleavage. I know you’ve seen it!" The game started, and we played a few rounds until seating for that night’s film became available. The night went on, and I went home.

I was there for the last day of the film festival, too. I’m by myself this time to catch a special viewing and discussion. I was proud of myself– I mingled, was only a little awkward, and carried out a few conversations without stuttering. "I use they/them pronouns," I heard myself say, after my name, and I reminded here and there. The button by itself proved to be too subtle.

Then came the discussion portion of the morning. The producer, who I struck the strongest conversations with, went up to the podium. And pointed me out due to how excited I was about learning more BIPOC queer history. To thank me for supporting her. They used

she.

I smiled, awkwardly, trying to match our earlier enthusiasm.

The they/them button on my shirt felt so heavy. My heart behind it was breaking.

I don’t recall much of what happened after that; all a blur or blotted out over time. But I remember going home and ripping the button off and crying.

I try to be understanding when– not if– this happened in other ‘mainstream’ spaces. But there, I was surrounded by queer people. This was the crowd that was supposed to get it. But, no matter where I was, I always worked under the assumption that a button could be easily missed.

So I still declared.

And I corrected.

And that still never seemed to be enough.

I didn’t see the point in wearing pronoun buttons if everyone was just going to ignore them.

So I put them all away.

The years without them… haven’t changed much.

I get what my partners call "apology tours" when I correct someone. (Protip: just utter a quick ‘sorry’ if you must, then move on.)

I have officially Heard Them All– the excuses. And to those I can only hiss: "Don’t care. Do better."

I don’t bother correcting close-enough acquaintances. If they didn’t get it by now, they’re not going to. And they won’t be invited into my house.

Some queer spaces have been getting better, incorporating pronouns along with names in introduction circles. The trans-inclusive (or even better: exclusively trans) spaces are a breath of fresh air.

After a few years of them being shoved into a tiny drawer, I unearthed my pronoun buttons (and one pin). A lot of them were from Pride events or meetups, and my favorite pin– a little one, gold-on-white– was a birthday gift. Each one I held in my hand, remembering.

I put one on for the LGBTQ picnic last month.

It felt nice.

I may wear it some more.

A variety of they/them pronoun pins.

 

I have my oasis. My partners and allies are always willing to go to bat for me. More people have been trying and I’m sure to thank them. But beyond that?

The buttons don’t work.

The just telling you doesn’t work.

Throwing out my CashApp and keeping tabs on each mistake isn’t working either, but at least I can buy a six pack now and then.

Positive reinforcement only works if the other party actually cares, and a lot of people still don’t. What started as a joke is going to be a serious undertaking as I begin bringing a spray bottle to the function, because I might as well have fun and use the excuse to be obnoxious.

Because if I don’t laugh about it, I’ll begin crying in frustration. And, really, I’m tired of crying.