More Noise Than Usual

So today started off like any normal day since moving into the Nest. I woke up feeling good. I fixed myself a nice cup of bustelo with the right amount of milk and sugar. I finished watching episodes of Fuller House. I put on a nice outfit and came to this earth shattering conclusion, “I don’t need to look good for someone else! It’s better that I do things for me!”

I made a Facebook post about it. Got a nice response from a friend who commented, “That’s when you look your best. Fireworks don’t explode or light up their brightest for the people down below to watch, to them, the pleasure isn’t the explosion or blast, it’s in that ignition, that spark, it’s a satisfying energy, it’s friction, its heat, it’s a pop, the brilliance of what follows is simply the aftermath of a beautiful experience. Ignite that spark. Feel that chemical reaction, that minute but wonderful experience, an instance where you what you were meant to be.”

And I added, “I’m not limiting this mindset to appearances alone.”

My friend says, “Everything you do then is beauty in action.”

I concluded that with, “Poetry in motion.”

So I go to my one class of the day. My professor came in and asked if I had forgotten my book. Apparently there was a reading that was due today and I didn’t realize it. I didn’t even realize that my book was missing until this morning because I was caught up with other assignments and the usual neurotic crises I deal with on a regular basis.

He asked if I left my book and I’m confused. Again, I didn’t realize that my book was missing. I’m putting the puzzle pieces together in my brain and thinking out loud, “I can’t remember the last time that I was holding it in my hands and I didn’t see it at the house…”

So then he placed it on his desk and walked off to his computer and I could hear him speak under his breath, “Well it sounds like you didn’t even try looking for it at all.”

I felt like I had just been sucker punched in the gut.

“Did he just throw shade at me…?”

Immediately I had scribbled down on some paper, “Over it?” I circled the phrase. Drew a little arrow that pointed to the answer I had written, “So over it…”

What am I over? Here’s a little something I neglected to write about. I have a crush on my professor. He’s a young professor, 100% gay, and conventionally good looking.

I have a crush on him. I gushed about it to my friends. I day dreamed about it. I kept saying, “Hey! Attendance isn’t going to be an issue!”

I even went through the trouble of making myself look presentable to him since the semester started. That’s hard for me to pull off because I’m probably the one gay man that didn’t grow up with a Fairy Godmother that’s supposed to hit me with the pretty stick and infuse me with all the knowledge on looking good and catching a man. Nor am I armed to the teeth with wit whenever I have to speak in class.

But then I decided to give up on the idea of pursuing him when I got a paper graded back from him. I got a “C” for an assignment that should’ve been an easy A for me.

On the one hand I misunderstood the assignment. I made a fool of myself through writing and that irks the hell out of me. I hate it when something I wrote turns out horrible. I even wrote his name wrong on the paper!! But then I reacted with a thought like this…

“Wow….you are so not cute anymore….”

I was mad about the assignment. I already figured that because of that I no longer had a shot with him. Plus that “C” was a hard blow to my ego.So I told myself, “Not worth it anymore. This isn’t worth pursuing. It’s a stupid crush. That is all.”

So back to the present….

I’m sitting in class, not looking at my professor, choosing to focus on jotting down notes based on what we’re discussing in class. I didn’t do the reading, I needed to do something productive with my time in class. Writing has always helped me. And I was writing notes. I could’ve jumped into my fiction writing except I chose to sit in the front row of the class so I would not have the compulsion to go off into my own little world.

But then when class ended he asked to speak with me. He’s genuinely worried because evidently he’s noticed how withdrawn I’ve been in class. I’ve pretty much shut down since that “C” graded paper. This was probably two weeks ago.

He says he noticed me withdrawn, writing stuff, not participating, and I explain myself, “I was writing notes.”

He brought up the reading assignment, “I didn’t have my book. I didn’t even know it was missing because I was busy with other assignments and I thought we were doing something else.”

He asked, “What’s going on with you?”

I just blurted out, “I have a lot going on in my mind. A lot of stuff that’s best left discussed with a counselor.”

When I said that he reassured that he wasn’t trying to pry into my business. I knew that but I said it anyway to get him to back off. Even though it wasn’t a complete lie.

I said, “I’m sorry if I made you worry. I’ll catch up with my work.” And then I quickly grabbed my stuff and got the hell out of there.

The entire time I’m walking back to the bus stop and the whole ride home I’m replaying the conversation in my head. Bits and pieces of it anyway. My thoughts became fragmented. And I’m criticizing myself. I’m nitpicking at the way I sounded, the things I said, whether or not I even maintained eye contact with him, how many times did I look away, and blah blah blah. I feel like an even bigger fool now.

But then I’m thinking dumb lovesick thoughts like, “OMG he noticed me!” “Does this mean he likes me after all? “”He must like me!”

And I’m pissed at myself when not one hour before that conversation I had convinced that I was, “So over it”.

And here I am now trying to hold it together because I don’t want to lose my shit over a goddamn crush. The whole thing has made me crazier than I already am and I have no choice but to let it work its way out of my system.

I don’t know what to do. I’m 31 years old for fuck’s sake and I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anyone to hold my hand and coach me through everything whenever I’m like this!

I just needed to get that out of my system. My thoughts were scrambled, my brain was blowing fuses, and I couldn’t find the words to describe anything until now.

I need to calm down and eat something. All this has left an empty pit in my stomach. I’m so hungry that I could eat a small child.

Bye.

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Sarcasm is Not a Hidden Language!

So I’m known for being the sarcastic one in most social groups that I hang with. Growing up gay, being a writer, and living in the bible belt will do that to you.

Anyone whose ever read through any one of my posts will know that I have a very dark sense of humor. I haven’t let it show until lately because for the longest time that I’ve been living in Boone, no one understood a fucking thing I’ve said.

I quote a line from “Archer” and it flies over their heads. That still irritates the shit out of me. But I have to show restraint because there’s a line between being a wiseass and being some asshole that spews shit. I used to hang with the later and I got really sick of it. What’s even worse is that these guys were like a pack. I wouldn’t dare to say a pack of wolves. Because wolves are noble creatures and they’re my spirit animal. They’re more like the hyenas from the “Lion King”. What’s even worse is that they were bullies, in person and on social media. They would pounce me on Facebook all the time. One in particular, who I’m pretty sure was butt hurt that I turned him down for a coffee date. And I turned him down gently when I should’ve said, “I’m not into girls or bestiality.”

I love being sarcastic. I love my dark sense of humor. I love having the opportunity to use it whenever I can. But I also believe in tact. These bitches had no tact whatsoever. And they take pride in their sarcasm like they’ve mastered the art of some hidden language and I’m like…

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When in reality all they’ve done is binge watch Mean Girls, Daria, and Kevin Smith films and repeat whatever they’ve heard. Oh but they think that they’re armed to the teeth with biting wit for life. And then they top it off with more Mean Girl quotes. I used to like that movie, now it’s forever ruined with their bullshit. Always reminding everyone, “On Wednesdays we wear pink.”

Yeah, Mean Girls wear pink, but a real bitch will be wearing black. I’m the latter!

Sarcasm is not a secret language! It’s not a merit of higher intellect! It doesn’t make you edgy, hip, cool, or better than anyone else. And if you abuse sarcasm and come off as an asshole you can’t just fall back on “I was just kidding” when someone is pissed off and doesn’t want to deal with your shit anymore.

I used to be no different from that. So I’m checking myself and going, “Hmm…pot, kettle, black?” But ya know what? The fact that I’m even aware of it shows growth. I’m certainly more grown up than those basic little fuckwits.

So fuck the tactless. Fuck Mean Girls. Just…fuck that shit.

Thus concludes this snarky queer rage filled rant.

Musings of a Broken Dreamer.

Random PenSword Fact #3: I’m Venezuelan-American. But I’ve been mistaken for so many different things. I’ve kept a list of it; Mexican, Puerto Rican, Peruvian, Turkish, Arabian, Egyptian, Greek, Italian, Philippine, Korean, Russian. There are some days where I don’t even know what the fuck I am anymore.

It’s game day here in Boone. Um…yay…

I’m not a football guy. If it was a WWE or UFC event that’d be a different story. Any sports that involve the use of a ball I just cannot get behind it. It doesn’t help that in my Venezuelan household there was always some stupid baseball game playing in the background. Baseball is a huge thing with my Dad. Baseball is hands down the most boring sport ever. Every discussion at the dinner table revolved around baseball. Who’s got the best batting average? Who makes the best pitches? What team is going to the World Series? Whose out with a torn ACL?

It took every ounce of willpower I had to not take my dinner fork and use it to stab my eardrums with it. That’s one thing I really don’t miss about living at home. Oh wait there is one thing worse than hearing people get so excited about baseball. Fucking Nascar…

The fact that my Dad loves the whitest sport in the world proves that we’ve been living down south in the Carolinas for far too long. This concludes the mindless ranting portion of the post.

After the last post where I mentioned that old friend I had gotten really emotional. I started remembering all the talks we had, all the laughter, all the dreams we had together. I was remembering all the good things. I had to fight the temptation to connect with him.

As much as I’d love to catch up with him, what would the point be? I’ve already pointed out that it’s just a cycle of reconnecting that leads to a disconnection. I’d just fall back into repeating a bad habit all over again. Something that’s counter-productive to everything I’m doing to keep my current positive momentum building. Besides that, I get back in contact with him and what then? I have nothing newsworthy to share with him.

I’m in a better place mentally, but I’m not in a position to boast about anything. In fact in a lot of ways I’m still that same kid with lofty dreams.

We dreamt of going to Japan together. We dreamt of becoming writers and having our work published. We dreamt about making it big in the world. We called ourselves A&A Inc, to represent our names. We dreamt the most loftiest of lofty dreams.

I used to get the biggest high from those dreams. I remembered feeling that passion, that desire to work toward them. I remember those dreams coming back to me at the age of 23 after I tried killing myself. I remember when those dreams returned they came back with greater intensity as if to prove that I was no longer in that dark place I kept myself in the furthest depths of my ruined mind.

Those dreams meant the world to me. They still do to this day. That’s why I overreacted the way that I did back then when he ran away from home and didn’t say anything to me about what he was going through at the time. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that he turned his back on the dreams we shared as friends. I felt like he “sold out” and I remember vowing that I wouldn’t give in. No matter how grueling reality would become I wouldn’t give up on anything. I wanted to carry on with those dreams and realize them for myself. Without even thinking about it that mindset is what brought me to this point.

I’m don’t feel any closer to fulfilling those dreams than I was all those years ago with my friend. Now that I think about it I might have tried taking one too many short cuts along the way. Trying to find a suitable someone to replace that friendship that we had, someone who shared the same vision as me, someone who I could happily speak to about the same interests we share. But that went nowhere. And look where I’m at now. Even the friends I did make after the seperation are no longer by my side.

I remember the first signs of changes in me when I walked away the first time. Everything felt so foreign to me in the beginning; I came out officially not long after that, I fell in love with someone for the first time, I was speaking my thoughts without fear, I was more honest with myself, I took more risks. And after my first stint in therapy I felt all that increase by 100 fold. I felt powerful. I felt like I was no longer the child that my friend saw in me.

Now I’m starting to think that last part was all an illusion. I have this moments where I feel like I never changed at all. Like I’m still stuck in the past. I don’t want to be, but now that I think about him it’s all leading back to that moment.

“Until we’ve truly learned our lesson we will be given the same test again and again”. What am I’m supposed to be learning here?

That I’m some immature, selfish little brat that throws tantrums when reality gets in the way of things? That I can’t change reality? That I can’t take on the world? What?! What big lesson is there I’m supposed to be taking from all of this?

As usual I’m lost. There’s a lot that I do know and all I can do is stick to what I do know. I can’t focus on the things that I cannot do, but always make it about the things that I can do. I can’t let go of those dreams. There’s something in me that just refuses to let go. I can let go of the past and the bitter idea that my old friend and I have grown so far apart. But I can’t give up on Japan, writing, getting published, and wanting better for myself. This much I know is right.

The answers will come to me in one way or another. Right now I don’t want to forget the good times I had with that friend even though it came to an end. I’ve been fighting those memories as if they were my “Nightmares”. It’s like keeping them locked in Pandora’s Box in my mind. Maybe my answers are in those memories. But that doesn’t change the fact that I cannot ever go back to the way things were. That’s a dream I learned to let go.

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Ramblings of a Pissed Off Writer

Random PenSword Fact #2: I hate words like continuity or any word where the first syllable in it sounds like “cunt”.

There’s something that’s been on my mind lately. Rephrasing, there’s a lot that’s been on my mind these days that revolve around my relationships with people. I’ve felt disconnected from everyone for the longest time now, even with people whom I’ve considered my closest good friends.

It doesn’t help that I’m not in Charlotte where my friends are all gathered in one spot. But there’s also this huge gap between myself and everyone here in Appalachian Sate. People claim to be social butterflies, but thats just bullshit. They’re not trying to connect with others even if they do have similar interests, a great stash of drugs, or a decent sized cock or divine pussy. Whatever passes for a “social connection” quickly disconnects in mere seconds. And then people just put on these appearances, “social masks”.

People sport these masks and instantly master the art of putting on fake smiles and executing fake laughs all while maintaining some fake peace with their fake friendships.

Fake, fake, fake….I hate that shit. It makes me sick to my stomach. I know I have problems with dealing with the reality of what’s going on in my life sometimes, but at least I don’t try to string people along and keep them guessing. I present myself as real as possible, flaws and all. But nope, no one wants to deal with what’s real. They just want to stick to a superficial existence all while spouting some Jack Kerouac “On the Road” type of bullshit about living in the moment and point out everything that I am is wrong.

How I act. How I think. How I speak. How I choose to spend my time. How I choose to be happy.

And do I say anything about their own poor life choices or ways to self-medicate and ultimately self-destruct? No, I let that stuff play itself out. Watch karma build up over their heads like storm clouds. Then bide my sweet time and wait for everything to come back to bite them in the ass. Do I get off on their pain and misery and point and laugh? Yes. Yes, I do. No sense in denying it.

But what’s even worse in my eyes….is when I make an attempt to look past differences between myself and another person, I try to be their friend, I actually do become friends with them. I allow them into my world. I let myself trust them. I share things with these people. But does the friendship endure? No. Either that person does the old “fade away” routine or I “delete” that person from my life entirely. I quite literally delete from my life if the only relationship only goes as far as social media.

A lot of people have “faded away” in my life. They’ve become ghosts in my memory. When people choose to “fade away” they’re always leaving me to my own thoughts. Inevitably I get lost in these thoughts and keep torturing myself while wondering, “What did I do wrong?” “Did I say something to upset him/her?” “Why is it I never seem to be good enough for anyone?” It’s the same thing whenever I try to start up a conversation with someone on social media and people don’t respond back to anything I say. At first I thought it was just irritating. But now it seems to be fueling that negative way of thinking that I’m not enough. When I think that I’m not enough then eventually I go back to that old way of thinking that I don’t deserve to be happy, loved, trusted, or even have a little bit of peace in my life.

I used to be a lot more social. I didn’t always expect the worse in people. I didn’t always see the bad in everything. I used to tell a lot of jokes or say the first thing that’s on my mind without a second thought. But then I became this jaded, cynical person whose twisted on the insides because of deep seated malice and all sorts of neuroses. And of course there’s the bane of my existence, my “Nightmare Syndrome” that’s just the cherry on top of everything.

At first I thought that this whole change in my perception of people was because of how my Dad lied to my Mom and had his affair. Then the move to Boone when my best friend suddenly thought he couldn’t be bothered to be associated with someone like me. But no, I think it goes back even further than all of that.

A long time ago I made friends with this other writer on-lline. We kept in contact with instant messenger. We bonded over anime, video games, Japanese culture, and the like. All through high school I felt like he was my one and only true friend. He was the first person that I ever came out to. He was gay too. We had all sorts of ideas for stories and would constantly brainstorm together and work together. Rather, he’d do all the writing for this projects and I would help him brainstorm for it while struggling with my own stuff even with his help.

There was a point where that friend was going through something. He had been struggling with depression and finding his own place in the world. I picked up on his mood and noticed something wasn’t right. But he wouldn’t tell me anything. Weeks passed, maybe more than a month when we didn’t speak to each other anymore. When we did finally catch up with another I found out that he had ran away from home and there was all this other stuff that had happened that he wouldn’t tell me about. I remember feeling hurt and betrayed at the time. I thought he didn’t trust me enough to share this stuff with me. I would’ve listened to him. I would’ve put in some effort to try to help him. Then our daily chats became fewer and fewer until it reached a point of nonexistence.

Then I ultimately gave up and “deleted” him from my life. I figured that it was time to stop relying on him, start becoming my own person, deal with flesh-and-blood human beings for a change. Did that work? Sometimes it did…

Over the years after that we did get back in touch again. I remember there was this one time where I said something to hurt him and I passed it off as a joke. But in reality, I said it because I wanted to hurt him. We were cut off from each other for another number of years and then eventually found each other again. Every time we’d reconnect, we’d up disconnecting again. I’d say something and he would leave me hanging. This became a regular thing between us and I was done with it. It just became this cycle that’d kept repeating on a loop.

Connect, disconnect, reconnect, disconnect. Lather, rinse, repeat…

I had gotten sick of it. So I thought it’d be best to sever our ties with one another completely.

This friend of mine is from Orlando. When news about the shooting at the Pulse Club broke out he immediately came to mind. Suddenly I needed to know if he was one of the victims or not. I found him through Facebook, confirmed to be alive and well. I read through his timeline and found out that he left Orlando a month before the shooting took place.

I could’ve friended him and chatted him up right then and there. But I chose not to. I was relieved to know that he was okay and then I chose to move on.

I haven’t thought about him in the longest time. But tying in with everything that I’ve brought up earlier I think this was the relationship that started up everything for me.

I walked away the first time because in my stupid, younger mindset that I had back then it seemed justified. I felt hurt, betrayed, and in no way whatsoever did I believe that I was overreacting or overanalyzing anything. That was 12 years ago. After that I struggled on my own with school, finding my own place in the world, figuring out who I really am, my own crippling depression, and wanting to kill myself.

There isn’t a doubt in my mind. This is what started everything with me. All the “fade aways”, the need to “delete” people from my life, all because of some stupid petty bullshit from when I was young. Like some little seed planted inside of me. But I’m the one that made that seed grow with my own thoughts and feelings. My old friend didn’t do that to me. This entire time it’s all been on me.

I knew I overreacted back then. I knew it was childish of me to hold anything against him. And there isn’t anything I can do to change that.

I’m getting really emotional right now. I need to just stop here.

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My Creative Spark.

Random Pensword Fact #1: Yes I am gay. No, I do not worship Meryl Streep as some primordial Hollywood Goddess. No, I do not own a single Madonna CD or know any of the lyrics to any of her songs. No, I do not have every line of Mean Girls memorized by heart. I might be gay, but there are only so many cliches that I’m willing to embrace.

I’m gonna be starting things off with a Random Fact about myself from now on. Best get used to it.

I had a peaceful Labor Day weekend. I didn’t do anything special. I just had the house to myself most of the time while the roommates were out doing their own thing. That’s if you don’t count having a sickly cat as company. I didn’t do a whole lot. I binged Crunchyroll to get back to my anime-loving roots. I started up my fifth walkthrough with Persona 5, a game that’s basically my heroin. I tried cooking up something nice for myself. Note that I said, “I tried”. That part didn’t go as planned. My sushi rolls turned into a sushi burrito when I ended up overstuffing the rice. But hey, I made sure my ingredients didn’t go to waste. That same day I wanted to make croquettes. Again that didn’t go as planned. I froze them overnight and fried some of them this afternoon. It was horrible. The bread coating was crumbling and the meat was still partially frozen. I was pissed! That’s never happened to me before. I never froze them overnight but I didn’t think it would up in disaster like that. It took me a while to calm down after that.

I had an idea to make a bento lunch. I could’ve gone out and enjoyed myself on campus or on the porch bench while relaxing to one of my new books. I’m juggling Roxane Gay and Haruki Murakami, in case anyone was wondering. But with no sushi rolls or decent croquettes to show for it that didn’t happen. In the end I just stayed planted on the couch and found myself hopelessly addicted to playing more Persona 5 and sitting through the WWE Mae Young Classic, a women’s wrestling tournament. Loved all the female talent that was on display. But I swear to God if Shayna Baszler ends up winning just so WWE can pull some shitty angle with Ronda Rousey’s Horsewomen crew I’m really gonna lose my shit!! Plus I don’t like Shayna Bazsler! I saw her in The Ultimate Fighter season 18. She rubbed me the wrong way back then. She still does. She’s basically Baron Corbin with boobs. And slightly more hair on top. Which begs a question? Why doesn’t that douche heel just shave his head and get it over with? His current hairdo really doesn’t do him much good.

Whoops! That was a rant!

I also tried to write something. Actually I managed to type up 1,146 words earlier tonight. I’m pretty proud of that. I don’t know what I’m writing at the moment. I’m trying to get out of the habit of overthinking things and just fly by the seat of my pants as I write and not worry about anybody else reading it. That’s the best mindset I can go with at this point. As much as I would love to write the next best selling novel or screenplay I don’t see it happening anytime soon.

Not as long as I keep getting ideas for my own Persona, Ghost Busters, Power Rangers, my own wrestling promotion, and my own original EVERYTHING. Seeing as though I find the world to be a toxic place to live, many things are not to my liking, and I have one too many voices living in my head (126,000,000 and still climbing…not that I’m keeping count cause that’d be silly.), and there’s always something that’s fueling my neurosis.

But I have to start somewhere. I’ve had a million ideas for a million different projects that date all the way back to 9th grade and I’ve never truly acted upon them. It doesn’t help that I kept dealing with crushing self-doubt,kept comparing myself to others, and had my “Nightmare Syndrome” to contend with. I never truly acted on my creative side except in small doses. Like tiny blood spurts spitting out of a carotid artery. And even when I do manage to write a piece of fiction for myself (albeit a small piece and by small I’m talking embryo sized) I’ve never found my real voice.

I’ve only tried to mirror what I thought was the proper way. I’ve only managed to write something and project a pseudo voice for writing college papers and nothing else.

I want to do something about all of that before I go and try to score a Pulitzer or an Oscar for Best Screenplay. I got to wrestle with the reality of my situation and current skill level. And I have to do all that while dealing while indulging in my fantasy world.

I’m psyching myself up in the same way I did when I was trying to score the new house, getting better with my depression, and making my comeback with school. I’ll work my way up to the top, write for myself, improve my skills, and see if it will be the cure-all for my problems. I will not stay at some mediocre level forever. By this time next year I will improve so much that I will be ready to take on the world with my imagination. I’m taking my creative spark and letting it shine.

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Signing off with intents set! Also get used to these fancy words being presented at the end of each post. That’s also going to be a new thing from now on. Peace!

Post Eclipse De-Cluttering

So….how about that eclipse? Yup, that was a thing that happened. Uh huh….seriously I have nothing to say about it. I saw it with everyone at Sanford Mall with those dumbass glasses, my eyes felt itchy and watery which made me paranoid as fuck. So I got up and marched my way to The Local and ordered myself a Boonie Burger (yes, that’s a thing. I shit you not.)

There’s a lot of mystical mumbo jumbo going on about how the eclipse is supposed to mark a perfect time for new beginnings and what not.

“A time to wipe the slate clean”, “A time to work on turning dreams into reality,” “Look within yourself,” blah blah blah blah…some more hippie dippie bullshit…yada yada yada….more life affirming stuff. You get the picture, right?

Anyone whose been following me and reading my stuff knows what I’m about. I’ve put out my intentions for all to see and the universe to pick up on. I sound like a broken record just mentioning and I’m not in the mood to add more to the list of things that I want.

Right now I’m focused on the things that I no longer want. I’m taking out the garbage that I’ve kept in my life as well as my mind. If something doesn’t bring me joy it must go. If someone no longer brings me joy then they’re dead to me. I’ve allowed one too many things to slide. I’ve let myself go with everything mainly because I’ve struggled with constant indecision.

I’m done with all of that. So I’m taking out the trash. It’s not all going to be gone overnight, but I am taking the steps to get rid of the junk, leave it all in the past, and move on. And I’m at a point where moving forward without looking back doesn’t seem like the hardest thing in the world to do anymore.

Things I Do NOT Want
-“Frenemies”. I don’t do love-hate relationships. If I love you then I want you in my life, if I hate you then I just fucking hate you. There is no in-between with me anymore. Besides I’m sick of keeping people around and wondering if they even cared about me to begin with. I’m sick of people latching onto me when I don’t care that much for them anyway. So my Facebook friends list is gonna go through some downsizing. The same holds true outside of social media.
-Things never changing. Change is inevitable. It has to happen. But I’ve been fighting against it. I say I want to keep moving forward with my life but I hold on to things that no longer work for me; a certain way of thinking, staying quiet, and pretending like nothing hurts or that something wasn’t a huge deal.
-Dealing with bad habits. It’s not going to be a cake walk trying to drop them, but I’m going through with it.
-Self doubts. It’s time I release myself from all of them and to do something about whatever fuels them.
-Indecision. I’m sick of always being in the middle of everything, unable to pick a side or not being able to stand by my own true thoughts and feelings. When I don’t stick by own feelings then I’m lead by other people’s ideas. At first I thought I was just being open-minded. Anymore open minded and I’d have all brain matter spill out from my skull.
-Having to settle. I refuse to settle. I want more. I believe in my heart of hearts that I do deserve more and that I can be better than I am now. I want to be better.
-Come mierda. Translation->”Shit eaters”. Do I really need to elaborate on this part?

I’m done. I’m just done. Have a nice day y’all.

Nostalgic Boners and Toxic Fandoms

Warning: The following is an uber nerd rant that might go on for a long time. You’ve been warned. Now it’s time to get my geek on.

I joined up with some fan forums last night. Quite unlike me because I’ve done my best to avoid mingling with fandoms. I used to kick it with the nerd clique which I liked to call “Nerdcore” or “The Nerd Herd” because I figured it’s only natural to want to be around people with similar interests. Did we end up getting along? Yes for the most part. Were there conflicts based on individual tastes, thoughts, and opinions? Yuuuuuuup…..

There are some cancerous people in the nerd community. Straight up. I always end up running into them. It’s an inevitability. It’s a problem when they come in swarms like insects. It becomes an even bigger problem when it seems like you’re under constant attack for the things that you like.

I’m guilty of liking a lot of stuff that’s not popular with other people. Where do I begin?

The anime series, Blood-C. Not for everyone, especially if you’re the squeamish type. It had so much gore that it made Elfen Lied look like a Disney film by comparison. But it actually had a plot that played a good psychological example of Nature vs Nurture and combining it with the whole “Truman Show” scenario. Could it have been executed in a different way? Yes, absolutely. But I think people were so turned off because viewers just had zero patience and didn’t pay attention to what was happening in the episodes that built up toward the end. There were hints everywhere, clear as day. Plus during the last episode there’s a lot more information that’s dropped on everyone’s laps but people don’t get the whole picture. They don’t get the whole picture because they didn’t take the time to put all the puzzle pieces together.

I liked the Ghostbusters and Power Ranger movies that recently came out. Were they perfect? No, of course they’re not perfect. There’s no such thing as perfection. That’s an illusion that people use to set themselves up for disappointment. Are they gonna win any Oscars? I fucking doubt it. But they don’t deserve all the hate that they get from movie viewers and Rotten Tomatoes. The Ghostbusters backlash is purely sexist, nothing more than that. Was it better than the original films back in the 80’s? No, but it wasn’t a complete shit show. It wasn’t a total flop. It could’ve been so much worse than people make it out to be. The same thing with the Power Rangers movie. Rotten Tomatoes labeled it a “box office failure”. Who did the reviewing? Toxic fans who grew up into jaded cynical adults or jaded cynical adults that never watched the original show at all? I loved both those films. I walked out of the movie theater with no regrets and I didn’t feel like my childhood was shat on.

I like some of the more unpopular Final Fantasy titles. My first FF game was Final Fantasy 8 and I fucking loved playing it. It was the second RPG I ever played. That first walkthrough was memorable to me because there was so much trial and error from how I played it and it made the battles especially difficult. Both factors made it all the more gratifying when I finally did beat the game. Is FF8 the best title in the franchise? Does it have the most compelling characters? The biggest replay value? The most amazing plot? No to all of that. But I love FF8 for sentimental reasons. Plus at the time I was playing it I wasn’t looking for any of that in the first place and I didn’t know any of the stuff back then that I know now. So I didn’t label Squall as an emo. Or the romance with Rinoa as uninspired? And I’m not so nerdy that I try to dissect the plot and complain at everything like….”How do you compress time? That doesn’t seem so terrifying…”

Oh yeah and when I was reading the manga, “Claymore”, it pissed someone off so bad that they yelled at me, “That’s just a rip off of Berserk! No, it’s just Berserk with boobs!”

Do you see the pattern here? This is what I call “Pulling a Jon Joel”. Because there was this one asshole in the Nerd Herd circle named Jon Joel who would walk up to you, start up a conversation like so, “What anime/video games are you into?” You proceed to give him an answer and then he responds with, “That’s fucking bullshit! I can’t stand that stuff! I can’t stand those characters! The protagonist is a complete faggot and you’re a faggot for even liking that show!”

Because the whole point of Jon Joel conversing with you is to tear apart everything you love and talk about what he loves because no way he would ever pick a bad anything. He was the sort of extreme weeb who loved to hear the sound of his own voice, bask in the smell of his own shit, and had a butter face that even his own mother would love to throw a brick at. He’s just one of many people who I feel epitomizes that toxic fandom behavior.

Whatever happened with “To each his/her own”? Or common human decency for that matter. I joined up with these forums on some dumb whim and I see so much of that toxic fandom going on just skimming through the site. I almost want to rant in a forum about how the Ghostbusters or Power Rangers movie didn’t suck but I know it’s gonna attract people who will disagree. And the last thing that I want is to have to breathe in more poison than I’ve already have for most of my life.

See? Told ya I was gonna rant. Lately I’ve been indulging myself in a lot of things from my childhood. Nerdy things like Sailor Moon, reading fan fiction, playing retro playstation games, etc. It’s partly depression treatment, going back to my roots and reviving interests that were dying out. The other reason is that naturally they’re all creative fuel for me.

I’m trying to get more serious about my fiction writing. I don’t want to invite anyone else into this fold because past experience tells me that’s not a good idea. People won’t operate on the same wavelength as me and I need to be able to trust myself when I’m writing, especially if I have any chance of making a career out of it. Some of my creative projects are gonna be based off those nerdy nostalgic things that I love so much.

I find myself constantly making a lot of announcements for intentions, but here I go. It won’t be the last time I’ll be doing this. One of the biggest things I’ve struggled with while trying to write is constantly fearing that my ideas aren’t good enough or I’m always giving up on things before I ever truly give them a chance. This is a bad habit that I’m trying to get out of. There’s also the many other facets that come from wanting to write, but that’s the stuff for a whole other blog entry (although I’m fairly certain one of my older posts already covered that). I want to lead a depression free life which I believe can be achieved through writing. I want to write my stories without anymore fear, shame, or self-hate aimed at myself and I need to be comfortable in my own skin to do that. I need to be comfortable with myself by being real with my shit. (Being Real…oh look there’s another throwback to a previous post.)

My New Intentions
1. I want to enjoy the things that make me feel alive.
2. I want to better love myself without reservation.
3. I want to be able to voice my thoughts and opinions without fear.
4. I want to write for me and worry about all the other stuff later.
5. I want to complete at least one creative project before I end up finishing things at App State.
6. I want to break out of self-harming thoughts that have been tying me down.
7. I want to engage with people who aren’t so toxic and leave me to do my own thing without judgement.
8. I want to be comfortable with myself.
9. I want to go after everything that I want without fear in my heart.
10. I want to take better care of myself.
11. I want to live intentionally.
12. I want to forgive myself for never being good enough in the eyes of others or even to myself. Forgive myself for every little thing that I’ve perceived as a failure or defeat. Forgive myself for being different from others. Forgive myself from making progress at my own pace. Finally forgive myself for ever getting lost in life.

I’m done. Later days.