Tag: rambling

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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 had a "enjoy it while it lasts" mentality when it came to BlueSky. The tipping point finally came for Twitter, and a mass exodus occurred in their favor. The rest of my streamer friends were finally on a platform I kinda-sorta paid attention to. But I didn’t hold my breath.

Sure enough, the nail on the coffin was swift: within days of new users enjoying the new-to-them platform, Jesse Singal, known P.O.S., is not only welcomed on Bluesky– but has ties to Kiwifarms.

(If you have no idea how that’s bad news [I’m envious at your ignorance, but also, where have you been?]: KF is notorious for being a forum full of people that love to doxx, stalk, SWAT, and generally spend way too much of their time obsessing over people they don’t like. They’re most known for harassing transgender individuals.)

And…

People are still being declared overreacting about this?

But what’s been really getting me, is that people are staying anyway. I’m annoyed similarly that it took people this long to GTFO Twitter.

Now, I should hold nuance for those that feel like they don’t have anywhere else to go[1] (Anti-Blackness is global, and permeates the Internet) and for some people, it’s literally their business. And not everyone can just up and delete their account, I guess, or have time/energy/knowhow to just say "fuck it" and roll their own. Or, like, whoever. Whatever.

But…

We gotta do better, y’all.

I’ve come across so many others that articulated way better than I could about how I was feeling about this.

It’s the main idea of why the whole aspect of the "Indie Web," Web 2.0, The-Web-I-Grew-Up-On, has been my Roman Empire for the past year.

There’s alternatives, but unless it’s VC-backed no one really cares. It’s toxic to so many marginalized groups, but that’s where the community is. It harms the most vulnerable and the man behind the wheel is a fucking weasel, but that’s where all your followers are.

Who brings the community?

Who gets sacrificed the instant it’s no longer profitable to exploit their work?

Who suffers because people think Tolerance is still a good idea? (It’s not!)

It’s very likely that I’m salty because, well, I feel this boils down to yet again that trans people just aren’t important as comfort media and convenience. Cis folks wouldn’t stop clutching their Harry Potter books and that fucking game to show the bare minimum of solidarity, so I can’t say I’m surprised.

And yet, this still stings.

It’s not about connections and empathy anymore. It’s all about the numbers, and I’m an unimportant one.

So, like, whatthefuckever. Stay there if you want.

It’s business as usual.

Carla, a transgender woman, shrugging and rolling her eyes. She says, "You do whatever you want. I'm used to being everybody's acceptable losses." This is toward her cisgender Resident Assistant who did not stick up for her during a bigoted interaction with another dorm member.
Source: Dumbing of Age

[1] What? You thought I was going to recommend Mastodon? …Well, maybe, but with huge honking caveats and a narrow list of the instances and apps that I recommend. And let’s face it, we absolutely dropped the ball when Twitter first started fucking up (more). So, probably not.

We’ll need to carve out what next to do.

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I wrote this in like, March 2012. I’m much better, now capable of cussing you out!

“Can Not Spit It Out.”

Sometimes, I can. Most times, I can’t.

It’s a little bit hinted at in my profile, “Fight or flight” overactive, especially the “flight” part. (The “Fight” portion is a whole other post.)

I bolt. Like the bunny, like the deer. I mentally hold myself still and the instant something becomes Something I take off for cover.

I don’t know what it is. “I’m shy” appears to cover the gist of it. I could speculate til the cows come home over all the points- bullied? check. Worried about peers/fear of judgment? check-o. But there’s certainty in two points: the sometimes crippling fear of rejection and pain, and the fact I’m so restrained- don’t say what I like most of the time (until Liquid Courage steps in, and even then, it’ll take some coaxing) and try (perhaps much too hard) to have my emotions under control- I worry that if I say what I felt, I’d hurt someone- a learned thing (grew up in a household of “emotions are weak” mentality). Or I’d lose perspective.

The Restraints, especially, cause me to stop short of admitting many things.

The hell do I do once I get tongue-tied, other than keep working on it?

Push through it.

The most recent kerfunkle happened because I couldn’t just come out and say it (yes, it is the one I mentioned in the last aptly-filtered post on some other blog site: “Some angst and heartache could’ve been avoided if I had outright said so earlier.”). But earlier before that, I had mentioned I was scared, but went ahead and told her my feelings anyway- the beginnings of a sweet crush.

But I find myself still making the same mistakes.

I have to remember that it’s better to speak up- and the most important things are sometimes the hardest to say….

I also take my sweet time processing a response- mostly, wondering, if it’s the right thing to say or if I should even say it. And if it’s worded adequately.

So… that’s why I do what I do. Why I look down at my hands and chuckle nervously. Why I don’t say anything even though you could probably see it on my face anyway, because I utterly fail at the poker face trick. Why your message would sit in my inbox for over three days because I’m mulling over whether my first reaction was appropriate- or should be toned down- or should be mentioned at all- or– it goes on.

Critiquing is easy. It’s heart-matters I have trouble with.

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Two damn cats being nice and civil, laying on a galaxy print blanket.
A fine pair of dinguses. (I can say that because I am also a dingus.)

I live with two cats. They aren’t mine, legally, but we occupy the same household and I help take care of them. We watch shows and lounge in sun spots together, slow blinking at each other. I pretend to look the other way if I drop a particularly tasty crumb of Human Food. Our collective stray hairs makes the discount Roomba seize up.


The “House Panther” (a fancy way of saying black cat) is a greedy old man. He loves to eat: he’ll inhale his meal and immediately edge toward someone else’s bowl or plate. He also enjoys pets and especially belly rubs! His companion– a calico/tabby mix– we ended up nicknaming “Mean Lil Ass,” due to her grumpy-looking face and her fondness for playing rough. She is about 7 years his junior so she still has that kitten energy, to HP’s annoyance.

Pukes McGee (aka "Mean Lil Ass") with their head sticking out from BEHIND the cabinet. I was late to work that day getting her out. Wording on the image includes: BOOM! in a blue explosion emoji, Hoooot!! and XD in speech bubbles. Caption reads "Pukes McGee in Cabinet Capers."
HOW DID SHE DO THAT?

Together, they can be annoying jerks!


Like I said, the House Panther loves to eat. And he is impatient. So he meows. In your face. And he will paw at the noisiest, most annoying material he can find until you feed him. And that kitten energy has MLA writing checks that her fur can’t cash. Fur literally flies, and she will give back just as good– and louder. Have you ever jolted awake to Super Smash Bros sound effects from beneath your bed? It’s pretty harrowing and I do not recommend it.


But they’re cats. They do cat stuff. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense, other times it’s infuriating. Most times it’s still pretty funny.


MLA enjoys pushing things and hiding in small crevices. She loves to run and jump and have the expensive flatscreen TV wobble from her effort. HP loves to TELL YOU ABOUT IT, at 2 in the morning when you’re supposed to be sleeping and somehow, his meows are the right pitch to evade your earplugs and white noise– if only for the chance to butter you up with kitty snuggles before demanding his breakfast 3 hours early. Both would love to make off with an entire chicken if they could (and honestly, you can’t really blame them). There’s claw marks in the couch. Litter gets in my shoes. They get up to antics and Silly Shit. They make goofy faces. Both love being where they shouldn’t be. And I still don’t know what they’re looking at, over there.

House Panther, a black cat, lounging on the couch with a few issues of Heavy Metal and a Bomb-omb toy.
We enjoy a classic sci-fi magazine now and then.

I remind myself that they are Not a People no matter how many times they can stand on their hind legs. That’s just how kitties do. Whenever they irritate me I try to take a deep breath and think: what do they need? What do they want? You know, instead of just chucking a pillow at them or using the CatSoaker9000. I can do something more constructive– and not punish the cat, I learned too late in life!– like checking their water bowl (and to see if it is meal time), or add another cat tree to the grocery list, and spending quality time with them.


Cats may be independent, but they get lonely, too. They are Banished from my room during bedtime due to their antics, so I try to make time for them by hanging out, or pulling out some Cat Enrichment with catnip. And pet them, of course.


Besides, I can always use more patience.


As much as I can complain (and I do!), I do love my rowdy cohabiters. You can tell due to the myriad of nicknames I have for them both.


A highly-bright filtered image of two cats; one a grayish tabby and the other a black cat. Captioned in a jaunty font: The Adventures of Pukes McGee & Mr. Heft.

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I’ve forgotten how to write to you.


I’ve rediscovered some of my favorite music tracks. Maybe I should rejoin Last.FM.


I had the best birthday in a long time: Korean BBQ, which I have never had, and karaoke. I love food and I love eating with my loved ones, and the communal style of the BBQ was affirming and fantastic. We shared food and stories. As for the karaoke, I did a total of 3 songs! A new record. I really missed it, nervousness be damned. Cheering on my friends was great and the crowd’s energy was loud, but amazing. I saw some old faces, too.


I’ve tentatively begun using a mobility aid, when I need it. It’s a walking stick, but I am calling it like it is. My hip gets wonky and it is OK to know when I need help.


I understand the thrill of no-top-tiny-car driving now. At least, in good weather. Lil Nas X and Tokimonsta are perfect for cruising around in a tiny convertible.


I love earrings.


I love seeing the old places in which my nesting partners used to live. I met some family. I’m disappointed that I cannot do the same– a restaurant reopened here, but it really isn’t the same.


Next week, I’ll meet more people. I won’t know anyone.


I relearned patience. Look at the creative arts and animals while it drizzles; the adrenaline-pumping rides will still be waiting. There is so much to see. And we have hours in the day.


I’m still nervous when holding her hand. I am out of practice. I don’t know how to speak up about it.


I reorganized my room a little.


I’m still non-binary.


I am so glad I escaped my old job. Everyone noticed: I’m glowing now.