Since no one else tackled Valentines day/Consumerist day/Singles awareness day/Capitalism holiday/etc, I will hit the topic for a sec, hopefully not upsetting anyone since it seems to be such a hard day for some, or I will blow that idea out of the water with my current I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.
In my family my mother always took this day as a chance to tell everyone who mattered to her how much she just loved and adored us. Giving chocolates and baking for us every year. In the Japanese anime that I loved and thus pretty adopted by myself and my friends shortly after learning about(why? Because it is wonderful), it is a chance to make some homemade baking or chocolate to give to those that matter to you. This consisted mostly of giving to good friends and people you want to show your appreciation to (in a creative way) and perhaps a love or love interest. When I hear about girls getting together to get drunk and watch stupid romance movies together because they are single, I cant help but feel sorry for the poor miserable (u^?$ . Either they are one of the many whiners who always needs someone, even just for that day, or they plan on getting shitfaced and potentially making out with each other, or perhaps a Justin beiber pillow(not worth checking the spelling for). Both whiners and if-you-get-me-drunk-bi’s piss me off so neither of these types appeal to me in the least. So make a note, every year you can sure count me out on the desperate parade. Can no one actually just appreciate their friends and loved ones anymore? This feels like a Christmas meaning fail, where all that matters is someone spending a bunch of money on you and there fails to be any good point to the day. Also, if you stop making your valentines day about sexual relationships, guess what, the people around you will start too. You people make any excuse to feel sorry for yourself instead of appreciating your life or the people in it. To all those not alone, if you were a whiner who lucked out this time, don’t preach to the other whiners about how valentines day is not all bad, you are not fooling anyone you whiner. Lol. Alrights, now that I have probably pissed off a whole lot of people, love you all. Seriously. If you are bothering to read my psychobabble, then its almost a guarantee I sure do adore you. Also special love sent out to Mom, my great dads, my baby bro B.J, Nana, Johnson(Jack is an ass), Brettt, Trav, Connors, Tam Tam, Sherrie-poo, Slimey, Glor, and Matt. You guys have been rocking my life lately and were very much on my mind on the day of love! :D (watch me fail by discluding someone who I live for. lol) It was my hardest day for quitting smoking on the 14th since it was day 3, thanks to M, C and especially B, you guys stopped me from relapsing. I was antsy as shit that evening. Day 4 was a breeze! Thanks. ^,^
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There is something relaxing about listening to starlight by muse or mad world by Gary Jules and watching the snowy world outside right now. Kids howling and playing on the snow hill right outside, the trees swaying stiffly in the cold wind, girls speed walking towards their next class or exam, and the traffic going by in the distance. Or maybe its just that I don’t want to finish writing my 20 page paper. Yeah, that could be it too. Oh hey, on the topic of writing and procrastination I bring you, this.
Half an hour ago my mind was left on and started wandering all over the place. I kept imagining how things could go down if someone came on campus with guns and started shooting up the place. Started planning out, if I don’t end up shot before I get a chance to do anything, what my plan of defence would be. Started thinking of the library as a level in a videogame, thinking about good angles with clear shots and good cover. Morbid things have been a common thing for me to sit and imagine for hours since my high school years. Made the mistake of telling one of the waitresses at the restaurant I cooked at before and she though I was insane. I have commonly imagined friends and family dying from intense car crashes, freak accidents, serial killers or zombies. I can blame the first two on watching a bunch of the final destination movies and the third on my fascination with killers. My imagination just cant be shut off after it starts on the matter of gruesomeness unless there is some serious distractions. Don’t get me wrong, when family or friends start dying in my imagination I find it disturbing and I will sometimes let it worry me too much. Nothing like the pick-me-upper of imagining last words of a loved one after they get hit by a car, I just zone out like there is a movie being played in my head that I would never buy tickets to see. I always did hope that in a position of being attacked and stabbed that I would have enough strength to take them down with me. Sometimes I also wonder how much the worlds rate for necrophilia will increase upon the zombie apocalypse. If they are headless there is not too much to fear. I imagine the ones that want it when they can still bite back would decrease in number if you just give them time. I mean, that’s like trying to masturbate with a rattler. I do wonder if other people ever imagine such gross things out and have such strange questions. If you are queasy already I suggest you skip the next paragraph completely(or if you are under 18) and I will post again tomorrow or the day after, then on the weekend with looks at some new art(or my attempts of). So since we already are on a dirty subject matter and Jack is posting random porn(note to self, look up zombie porn after paper is written), if you think you can stomach worse , you should check out the web comics Sexy losers. It is incredibly disturbing and has a focus on terrible sex stuff like masturbation addiction, necrophilia, and moneys shots and worse, all with no taste executed. :p Or OGLAF which is like a comedic fantasy web comic that has a sex focus (all sexualities) This is a good starter for T-Girl. and this ones for.. well who doesn’t like dirty yaoi. Though, don’t get me wrong, none are porn or would likely be very useful as much, but they are worth endless laughs for me. Enjoy. I started university with a social experiment, I dressed as a goth but managed a smile on my face most of the time when walking through the hallways. It was easy to do once I realized that NO ONE wanted to actually maintain eye contact. After a decent length of time doing this I managed to find only three people who smiled back. Everyone else instantly averted attention elsewhere when they saw my attire. The three people were a cool dark chick(whom I never could find on campus again O.o), a tall guy and a short guy whom we can call Big Slimey and Little Slimey (B.Slimey=6’4“? whom I ended up having my soc class with) (L.Slimey.=5’6”? whom I ended up having my psych class with).
Little Slimey became my first love and Big Slimey became my best friend. My guidance managed to completely change L.Slimeys life around. He had been rejected and felt inadequate, and found socializing horrific. B.Slimey let me become more close to him than anyone else, but had a hard time seeing me go through the troublesome times with L.Slimey and ended up cutting me out of his life. He shut lots of his friends out of his life after that and became more political and detatched. L.Slimey ended our relationship a social butterfly and a fantastic person, but costed me my self esteem and happiness. L.Slimey said too many terrible things to me when we were breaking up for it to just bounce off me. I started to play piano, delving into a world that I previously only dreamed I could be a part of. I completely embraced music and the arts. I didnt dare to draw much then, my best friend whom I have decided to refer to as Cute Asian. Cute Asian had skills so hardcore that when compared closely next to each other it would render my artwork the equivilent of a drawing of a broken blade of grass(or it might be a tree) compared to one of gustav klimt's(<3) works. Though they drew mostly dragons. I fought hard to get into a good groove, battling depression and obsessive suicidal thoughts. I managed to find myself steady again. I decided to start constantly hanging out with a fantastic friend of mine which I realized later was a great move. At one point it dawned on me that I needed to find out if they thought I was date worthy before somebody else found them. They had a smooth body, pretty eyes, a sweet smile and a nice ass. I managed to gain their attention and got to feel a love greater than I thought could exist. I easily envisioned myself having a full future with them. I was able to rid myself of insecurities by letting our relationship shelter me from most unremedied pains. I found myself at a loss when my ex L.Slimey was chasing our mutual best friend. There was a lot of unfinished business, like them telling me that I was shit in their life to help them adjust to the idea of breaking up with me in the first place. L.Slimey and our best friend hooked up, and found it impossible to keep most of those relationships healthy. I ended up having to cut off communication with Slimey and gained some intense resentment towards our friend. I found myself slipping back into depression but that relationship and love of my current relationship kept me sane and got me through dealing with my ex's bullshit. But then it was my loves turn with the issues. They started struggling with issues of jealousy and addiction and I started struggling back. I started to see these issues as similar to my step father and mothers relationship. I started to doubt their reliability. I became horrified of how it could end up being, not knowing who they were anymore. I left the relationship and before they even left I got the blunt realization of how my breaking up with them was the ultimate betrayal in their eyes. Things would never be the same. It didn’t matter if I would just choose to be single and not looking. I found out I couldn’t keep them around no matter how much I tried. I lost them as a lover and as my best friend. With them I found myself on a level of relationship and intimacy that I have yet to find again (though I am biased, I push people away right now, I dont feel like dating). They left my life and I found myself with scarcely any good friends left. The last of my best friends at this time went through a rough breakup, started blaming me for their lives woes and I finally lost everything that I held dear to me. It was hard to deal with being so loyal to someone and putting all your faith in them, then finding out they blame you without reason. I mourned my losses of my friends but within a week, two broken people were dropped off on my doorstep for me to mend. Out of these I now have some of my best friends, but life and people laying constant demands and judgement on me kept me so busy that I didn’t even notice when I lost myself completely. I became solely about others. A shell. I finally turned 18 and started dating a just-turned-29 year old guy (mom and Dad if you are reading this, you might want to skip the next sentence or two, or maybe just the whole first paragraph). He taught me about love making and sex and I found that I was the type of person who had tastes for either depending on the night. He taught me how to feel sexy and introduced me to lesbian porn. He also gave me his permission to sex up ladies anytime I wanted to and reassured me that he would give me the space to do it comfortably. It was the first time that I gained confidence. I lost weight, kept in shape and turned my life around.
He had travelled lots and lived lots, having so many wonderful stories about backpacking across Canada and hanging out with some different covens. He had such an exciting life, with so much knowledge that he picked up along the way. But with me he found himself finally ready to settle down and have kids. I found myself finally wanting to live. To make and accomplish goals. To go places and be something. So we went our separate ways and I continued to get better. I finally started to get some chances to find out what intimacy with a woman was like after he was gone when I spent some decent time getting close with some of my bisexual friends. I surprised my parents by going back to high school, even more so when I got good grades and graduated, and even furthermore when I applied to University on my own, then decided to go back for a double shock when I got accepted, AND even picked out my courses and went. It was hard though. This was stuff that JR talked to me about, loans and grades and all that university crap, it was one of the last long conversations we had. It was like I was following in his footsteps when I got accepted. It had some comfort, but on another level it felt like he should be there, giving me advice to get through everything. I struggled with this my entire first year, it was hard to ignore since he was so associated with university, thus every building and every classroom. I wondered about him, I imagined him sitting in classes, and I dreamt of him. Some days I found myself thinking back to how I used to get so pained by it that I just wanted to carve his name in my arm. Instead I imagined getting his name tattooed where I could hide it. It just seemed unacceptable to still be mourning him, so I just didn’t talk, I just listened. Before my first year of university started during that last summer at my own place I managed to get out of the house once and ended up being followed around and hit on by the usual stalkers. Using a smoke break to take off I bumped into an old acquaintance and we chatted before I admitted that I had to take off to go out walking(Cant sleep when I’m buzzed) before I headed home. They ended up joining me, even though the night was young, and I spent the next over six hours with them walking around talking about everything. It was sweet and nice, and respectfully (since I ditched the party to avoid being hit on all night) didn’t end with another proposition. They spent a decent time at the gym across from my job and apartment and managed to often be heading in or leaving when I was locking up the restaurant that I worked at. It was nice to chat with someone all summer when I had pretty much ditched most of my old friends that were still around town. We ended up hanging out at least every week, walking around, chatting, talking about working out(which we both loved and spent many hours on) and catching movies together. We both knew that when the summer ended that both of us had unfinished business in two different universities. Somehow they had whittled their way into my mind and heart. The last time we got to see each other, I had just entered my first week of university and we hit up dinner and a movie. There was so much energy in both of us until it was finally time to say our goodbyes. It would have been easier if they didn’t have such an intoxicating smile, a face so full of emotion, and eyes that just bore down inside me. There was some silence, things were left unsaid. Luckily, afterwards, when I thought about them I really shone. I remembered the connection. I remembered not having to say anything to communicate. I remembered that intoxicating smile that just made me feel so loved. I didn’t dwell on being so far from each other. I spent the last month and a half in town preparing myself to handle them leaving. They brought me so much joy and that is what I wanted to remember, I didn’t want to ever cry about them. So I didn’t …. much. One day in high school my class finally experienced our first information coming from the teachers on homosexuality. My teacher pointed to the class, as if accusing, and told them that one in ten of them shall be gay. The class started looking around at each other. Searching faces, picking out the queers. I became the token dyke, and another very unfortunate soul became the token gay. Dyke, butch and lesbo became constant names for me. Being scrawled on my binder and its papers when I got up to use the bathroom, my stuff being thrown out, being harassed by everyone, being pushed, endless spit balls, being threatened to be cut up and beaten, and being called beast constantly. I dressed and acted like a man. It was my comfort zone. I changed inside the shower stall in the change rooms, always facing away from everyone. I just couldnt manage to be comfortable being who everyone else wanted me to be.
This had all happened before I developed a sexuality. It was almost a year in this before I had my first fantasies, my first interest in sex. I dreamt of women. I fantasized about breasts, curves, and thighs. Dreamt of making them moan. People continued to call me names, I continued to get frustrated with it all. I didn’t know what a Dyke or butch really was, but I knew I shouldn’t like it. I told no one about any of it. Eventually my interest in women was joined with an interest in men too. For women it was detached from comparison or interest in girls my age, the most of which I was worried to be near. I fantasized much about older girls, about nice big breasted next door neighbour types, and sexy women in the media. For men, my first interest came attached to a person. It surprised and embarrassed me. I knew a bit more of what opposite gender stuff was about. It was a confusing addition to an already confusing picture. Eventually I found out my interest in women had ties to the lesbo title. The whole matter was still confusing though and remained confusing for the first few years of high school. Then it was like I got a glimpse of the sorrow that was to come. My grandmother was dying. I had many unfinished fights with the woman, and this was the first death of anyone close to me. But it was nothing to the bomb that hit next. My uncle JR died. He was young, I am getting to his age quickly. He was so much to me. So much time spent with him and it was all loving and magical. He was teaching me to play guitar, about the stars, how to dive, snorkel, and clam diving, all about animals, about life, and how to live it right, about people, about university, my future and showed me how to love and want to protect people. He sang with me, we played board games for days, searched for perfect rocks on the beach, stayed up watching for shooting stars, watched the bats swooping for bugs up close, and had picnics with me. A short while after that my uncle Jack died too. By then I was already numb though. Already empty. I saw the world and all its shadows. All its darkness. And it beckoned me. I cried myself to sleep every night for many months. My eyes were always burning. The first time I went back to B.C after what had happened I started crying every time I was in the shower too, to block the weeping from this alien ‘family‘. I wanted death. I wanted to join him. I was obsessed with it. I spent almost all of my next few years in complete silence. I fought with my parents and any family I had left. They couldn’t understand me. There was more pushing to finally be a woman, but I held onto my comforts the best that I could. After a few years I finally talked to my biological father. I never remembered talking to him before. Though there was an argument or two first. Its not that he didn’t call. I spent every summer out there in B.C with him and his family. I just didn’t quite understand it. I had a real connection with my Nanas cabin and my uncle. I never had any memories with my actual father. By the time elementary school ended I still had a great deal of love for animals, though now a better understanding of how people loved to kill them. I became aware of the reasons beyond hunting for food that people would kill for and I was quite disturbed by it all, since I felt that we were just a type of animal. Also furthermore, in high school when I realized how little meat a person needed to eat. Yeah I know, I was a bit of a hippie for a child.
By the final year of elementary school I had just lost my best friend Justin to the lure of popularity and dating. I always thought I would marry the guy, its like we were in sync when playing sports together and it just seemed how the world worked that you would marry your best friend. When girls started to hone in however I found my submissive side come in and I backed off. I was scared about what would happen if I tried to put it to question. I was scared of asking him to just stay and keep hanging with me. Since I was no longer always with him, I was forced to spend much more time at home alone. Alone only in the sense though, since I had a good chunk of siblings running around our huge (and haunted) house. I started taking a liking to hanging out in my closet somewhere around this time and hanging out with my imaginary friend (:p). The strongest memory I have from when I was just getting into high school, was how alone I was at this time, but how it hit me hard when my older sister walked me to school and right to my classroom. It was something I held onto for a long time, even now it being one of the memories that kept me trying to keep tabs with her. Who would have figured it would mean so much to me, it was likely that mom told her she had to anyway, but oh well, I would rather think it was the first time my sister felt really like a sister. The next few years were full of reading, biking and hanging out (pretty much solely) with my girly friend whom had issues with considering me her best friend since, well, I was lame. I started getting into Wicca and fell into a depression. I spent many winter evenings sitting on the largest hill just outside town wishing to be back in magical B.C.. I sat watching the sky till I could barely feel my legs anymore, and long after I could no longer feel my face. I spent my summers sitting on one of the hills surrounding the pond, staring off into nothingness. I mourned not having the people who mattered so much to me in my life anymore. I napped while straddling trees out of town and felt the most comfort in being with nature. My home life seemed to be full of me standing there while everyone yelled and screamed at me, and me living in my closet or leaving the house for hours to just be alone somewhere. I remember one particularly scarring time when my mother told my step father that she was leaving and not coming back, slamming the door. Leaving me there. Abandoning me. I started to think about suicide. The world was cruel and full of hate, it was disgusting. I am in another phase of pushing people away right now. Sometimes I do too much, I agree to help too much, and then when someone takes me for granted that I am going to help out even more, I snap. I just get pissed right off. Then I just get in the mood to tell everyone to just fuck off when they are near. It’s a bad place to be. Most of my friends don’t really know how much I am like Jack in that sense. They don’t realize underneath it all, the reason why me and him get along so well is cause I share much of his feelings. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by hatred, typically involving my one job. But then I push away everyone. I have lost friends from telling them to screw off before I got to simmer down. It seems like the only two people who can help me get back are Jack and Chris right now. I am lucky to have them in my life.
Right along with that issue, I have been struggling with a specific comfort issue right now. I have not been treating my two girl friends right. Both of them have admitted that they consider me their best friend. Yet I cant even get comfortable around either of them. Compared to my good guy friends right now, Whom I often smother with hugs and curling up next to them affectionately, touch their hair, or play flirt with, I give these girls nothing. I know full well that it has appeared to them before that I am rejecting and just don’t like them as much. This is not the first time I have had such a problem, my friend Jeff too, that I just could not allow myself to be physically near. Luckily I had some girl friends who were very loving and accepting with my sexuality and smothered me, allowing me to break down some of my first barriers with girls at 19, or else my dating life would have been a struggle. With these girls its because the beginning of our friendship was tainted with a bad night. It was a birthday and we hit up the bar to take care of the newly 18 year old gal friend of ours. Their plan to try to prevent men from getting all over her was to make out on the dance floor, this didn’t seem to prevent them from hitting on them and grabbing but the guys persisted. I was told that I couldn’t try to help them out since I dig chicks too. I was the bi(I dig chicks or dicks) and it wouldn’t be proper since the two girls who were making out were very straight and I am clearly quite a Queer person. I had never imagined trying the idea ridiculous idea of making out with some straight girl to prevent guys from hitting on her. I came along because I am intimidating when need be, and defensive for my girl friends, I give a good look of death and have good reflexes, enough in my opinion to stop her from getting fondled all night. That was my original plan, hence why I found myself in a bar(I kinda hate all straight bars). Instead I stayed with purses, heard how everyone was molesting her, and was told about how it would be wrong for me to be around since I dig girls too and thus could do nothing for her. Over and over I sat their while they told me this sort of stuff, as I quietly sat there letting it get to me. It burned me inside. Since when am I not allowed to dance with chicks? Since when am I a pervert because I was inclined to be on the dance floor to keep an eye out for her? I get it, I’m the trans bi, I’m just a perv all around. You can imagine the distance I put between myself and them when dancing. You can imagine how little I hug them, or how I will not even really touch their hand. When they hurt, half the time I just sit there, its difficult to comfort them. I feel like I could be accused of something or they might start thinking I am perving on them. It has been years of them being my friends but its shadowed by how uncomfortable they make me sometimes. With my old friend Jeff, people accused me of wanting him all the time and he was my best friends boyfriend. So I sat and watched him when he hurt, when he cried and when he shook from grief. I couldn’t bring myself to even touch his hand. I believe the first time I might of ever hugged him was the day he left. I spent too much of my time feeling like shit in high school, having everyone accuse me of perving on everyone that I became well known through all my friends of NEVER hugging anyone. When I met up with one of my friends later when I was 19 and said my goodbyes they were completely shocked, that without thinking I hugged them goodbye. It was at a time when everyone was so accepting and loving that I knew how much physical contact warmed someone. Though, here again in university I find myself struggling. Burned by their words there are some people I cannot seem to hug comfortably. My lack of physical attention has been brought up however. I had to spend a few long hours talking and attempting to sit with my foot touching their leg, eventually being able to hold their hand to apologize, followed by a very awkward hug and a promise to try to lessen the gap of comfort between them and my best guy friends right now. So there are the struggles in my mind right now, my heart ripped out to be examined to understand how it works. Sadly it wouldn’t surprise me too much to find out that other people went through similar. When I hear of others ways through high school not being the queer one, it makes me jealous of what I could have had if I hadn’t been outed till University. Oh well, I love my friends much and live off their acceptance and love returned. ^^ My head is just pounding tonight, at least I have three cheese tea biscuits, a honey crueller, steeped tea and a couple migraine Tylenol to make it all better. Make that two cheese tea biscuits…*nom nom* Strangely, I found I actually loved the unappetizing thing when I was in the hospital last year. I enjoyed the variety that comes in hospital food. It’s the end of a long weekend full of work, being sick and sleep, ending with me having to now stay up for the next 9.5 hours to study for and then write an exam, then hopefully have the energy for the class, office hours, and meetings that will plague the rest of my day. Oh SHIT! My readings…Ugh. That will be my Monday night. ^^’’’’ Heh, Alright then.
I will start by talking love and attraction, it is always such a popular topic, though I generally seem disinterested in it. I wonder just how much more my friends have just perked up and started paying more attention to this now. :p I am stuck in a time when I just cant seem to gain much interest in anyone but one person, someone whose fondness of me is incredibly limited and isn’t going to change. The biggest problem is me though. I, much like many out there hate and detest myself. Always wishing to have more stylish hair, be stronger, faster and toned. Its nowhere close to where I would be if I hit the gym harder than I ever have before. It is my insecurities and hate for myself that has been caused me to drive interest and people away. I have always been a firm believer that no one can love another till they love themselves first. Essentially it means you can make the best decisions for yourself as well. Why would anyone who cares about themselves stay in a detrimental relationship. No one should be in a relationship because they need the other person. And who would put their partner through all their baggage. Also, relationships are time and effort, something that you need if you hate yourself to get your shit sorted out. So my love gets repressed, until I can start to like myself and feel worthwhile. Till then I will continue to be insecure about myself and my friendships. On the plus side, lack of a relationship gives me more time to deal with the anger directed at me from those who I have told this all too, but persist trying to get into my pants while I keep telling them that I am not interested. Also ever hear the phrase “Bro’s before Hoe’s”? Lets ignore the fact that that implies the other in the relationship is so disrespected for a second. Seriously, I am a relationship person, but I am not the type to ditch the friends to spend 24/7 alone with my partner. When a relationship is done, generally, you loose that person from your life, they can be your best friend and someone who knows you the most, then they are gone. I don’t understand why people would devote all their time to someone when there is pretty much a guarantee that you wont spend the rest of your life with them. Friends are at least generally there for longer. So I guess that just says that I tend to love and care for my friends a great deal. Now, I dont say this enough to my friends, but I know the search for love is something so strong in people that sometimes to not focus on it is difficult, it is just that in my life I am able to do it. I realize that without the passion of love, there would be a lot less inspiration that led to so much wonderful art and music. Alright, that blew away some time, study time now, with perhaps a bit of being Erica for study breaks(Attractiveness wise she is awesome). I wonder if I just do definitions and forego reading the text book if there is any chance I will pass? Lol. Will let you know. I hate Bio. |
Kris
I am a Bi+Trans geeky student who is all about Gaming, Music, Drawing, Writing, Anime, Comic books, and Web comics. Categories
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April 2016
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