The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

Started with the first two lines as a writing prompt, and this is where it went. No idea who it’s about or who the character speaking is. But that’s why it’s a draft, right?

More

You’re more than just
a fucked up piece of ass
sliced and preserved
for convenient serving.
No, the plating counts,
your movement,
slow brush of fingers
through exhaled breath,
scattering it across
bruised skin.
You move your chest,
inward and out,
in quick, heavy action.
You view like a desperate photographer
about to miss the moment.
You present yourself this way,
hurt, horny, hopeful
that someone will deem you relevant,
and I am tired of the act.
I can hear the click of tiny gears
deep inside your plan,
wound and working.
I can feel the way you’re always there
just when,
the small opening of weakness
I require for recharging,
and never else.
Setting the stage for a performance
normally takes stagehands
bustling about
swinging hammers.
You’ve done it alone,
like always.
You’re more.

So am I.

I had a day off! What did I do with that time?

Uh, I watched way too much Yu-Gi-Oh GX.

Look, it’s not my fault, okay? (It’s totally my fault.) I just realized that they have every single episode of every single Yu-Gi-Oh series on Hulu. What else was I supposed to do? Play good video games? Nap? Enjoy my free time? I mean, come on.

But yeah, I mean, I watched a lot of this show in my youth, more than I care to admit, and going back to it, man, it is way worse than even I remembered. And I remembered it being really quite bad! Even if it is absolutely flawless.

I just can’t get over the voice actors on this show. When fans who aren’t getting paid but are making fun of your show do more acting, put more emotion, and just generally give more of a shit than your voice actors, you have a problem. I mean, so many lines just seem like the people reading them had no direction at all. They didn’t know if there were other characters around, or what they were saying right beforehand, or anything. This is especially true for anyone who is not a main character, who could be reading a grocery list for how much energy they put into their lines. I mean, I get it. This show is STUPID. But the characters think what’s going on is important, and fuck it, you’re getting paid to pretend, you can at least pretend, you know?

In addition, the choices the translators are making are just… what? What? I remember an episode where they replaced Sake and drinking with “Hot Sauce.” That makes sense, even if it’s stupid. Don’t want kids knowing about drinking, I guess. But I recently watched a dumb episode. It was called something like “Curry Worry.” But during the episode itself, they never say curry. They say “pot roast.” What the fuck? That clearly is not a pot roast on the screen! Plus, I mean, kids today very well COULD know what curry is! Or if they don’t, maybe you can expand their pallet a little bit by making them want to try it. It’s not like curry is some vice or something. What the hell?

Finally, the way the game treats its own rules is just really annoying. Sometimes the rule where destroying a creature in defense mode doesn’t deal damage works, but sometimes it doesn’t. I swear a lot of the time the main characters are just pulling extra cards out of nowhere that they don’t have, which is weird, because they do try to cover refilling people’s hands by having them play Pot of Greed and Graceful Charity quite often. At least, unlike in the original Yu-gi-oh, there’s much less of “card has an ability that makes no goddamn sense and would never exist” a la the Catapult Turtle Gambit. They’re just playing cards that very well could exist, but are so situational as to make a normal, sane player of this game never run them. But of course, Yu-Gi-Oh characters can pull whatever card they want out of their deck at will, so those cards then become very powerful. But whatever. At least I could see an actual, physical playing card having that rules text more often than not.

All that said, I watched like 4 and a half hours of it today, and will probably continue to watch it for awhile. I am such a sucker to a world where things are resolved through card games. Even when everything is fucking terrible about it.

Jonathan was all like “Woah, I got Four Swords for free on this 3DS that I got for Christmas early! So cool!” and I’m all like “I have that on my DSi! We should play!” and then he went “We totally should!” so we did. Although it was just us two, so it was more like two swords.

I really liked it! Jonathan seemed disappointed. I think he was expecting, you know, a co-op Zelda game, with Zelda dungeons and Zelda puzzles. I suppose that’s a reasonable expectation, but I had heard enough about Four Swords to know what I was getting into, and that was a crazy, fuck your neighbor and grab his rupees adventure. While I didn’t totally play that way, some shenanigans were had, and we both had a fun time. Just not the time he was looking for.

It was also just kind of interesting to play and go “Oh, hey, there’s that item from Minish Cap!” Because they totally just stole a bunch of the more clever items from this and put them into Minish Cap. Not that I can blame them, since nobody really saw this stuff when it first came out in that Link to the Past remake. The items themselves were nothing really spectacular, as they just wanted to invoke the “feel” of Zelda, so of course your get a boomerang, bombs, Pegasus Boots, and so on. Certainly, though, the Magnet was a pretty weird item, and fun to use. It was certainly a cool and more interesting hookshot variant. The puzzles where you had to stick the other player to the wall to progress were fun, too.

All in all, I don’t know if we’ll play again. It wasn’t what my brother wanted and while I had fun, it really does seem like you need four players so it can get super chaotic and backstabby for maximum fun. Still, for the low price of “free” we certainly got an afternoon’s worth of entertainment, so no complaints there.

For years, internet scientists had imagined it. Why else would they draw all that art depicting it? The Genderswap universe clearly existed, and I was finally on the cusp of proving it. The machine was set up, and all I had to do was pull the lever. My hand hovered over it, shivering a little. “Let’s do this,” I mumbled, and pulled. Machinery clacked to life, and an overwhelming whine of electrical discharge pelted my ears. Before me, I could see a light forming, growing bigger by the moment. The portal was being made.
Without warning, there was a person there, my height and my build, shielding eyes from the light. I gasped as this person took a step forward. I flipped off the machine. The instant silence was deafening. I looked across the room, and I saw… him. He looked… well, a lot like me, from the past, but not attempting to be an amorphous blob. He was clearly going for that sort of stubbly but not full beard look, with short cut hair.
“You’re a man?” I said, surprised.
“You’re a woman?” he said right back, in a voice quite similar to mine.
A beat later, and we both burst into laughter.
“Of course we’re both transsexuals in the other dimension as well. Just our luck, right?” he said, trying to catch his breath.
“Mm, so you know what happened? Where you are?”
“Of course, I was building the same machine. Genderswap Dimension, right? I guess I just took the first step before you. I’m Matthew.”
“Heh, of course you are. I’m Alexis.”
“Of course!”
We hugged.
“Lunch?” I asked.
“Sure. My treat, as long as your dimension doesn’t use some sort of crazy bizarro money.” Matthew said.
“Heh, I’m betting it is off. Your Presidents and whatnot should be women, right? Different pictures?”
“Eh, maybe they won’t notice.”

We discussed our dimensions over pasta. We had both been successful, it seemed. Besides the differences in physical bodies, pretty well everything had been the same between our two universes. We knew the same people, though the names were slightly different, and we had both, for the most part, done the same things. There were, of course, minor differences. For example. we shared dating experiences, which were pretty different before we both met our respective Brers. (His was named Bridget, apparently.) Growing up had a similar amount of despair, but of course, different problems based on the physical sex situation.
As we were finishing up eating, though, I dropped the question that I had been planning on asking my other self the whole time. Just because my other self wasn’t happy being born female like I had thought didn’t mean I shouldn’t ask it. “Are you happy?”
Matthew blinked. “Well, yeah. There’s been a lot of rough parts, of course, but I’ve got this family I’ve always wanted, my own house, I’m myself… thinking about having a kid… heh…”
“Lucky,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, I guess we have that slightly easier than you two, huh? But yeah… happy. I’m happy. Are you happy?”
“Totally. Totally and completely. My life has had a lot of suck, but it’s all worked out. I am happy.”
“Good.”
“Heh, we better go before they realize the money you paid with has a different face on it.”
“Ladies first.”
As we stepped out of the restaurant, a shockwave rippled through the concrete. I lost my balance, and fell against Matthew, which did him in. We toppled to the ground. Other pedestrians didn’t fair much better.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked, getting up.
“…shit. Alexis, look.” Matthew pointed to the horizon. In the direction of my house, a giant beam of light was cracking towards the sky.
“The portal device…” I said softly.
“Probably,” he said. “Was your Brer back from work yet?”
I shuddered at that thought. “Shouldn’t have been.”
“Good. Keys, let’s go.”
I tossed him my keys and we raced to the car, to the house, and to what we’d find there.

Then there’d be adventures! Me and genderswapped me, doing, uh, whatever English Majors who somehow have a portal device do on adventures!
Man, this was a stupid idea. But I just couldn’t get the appeal of talking to myself, but a male version of myself who wasn’t miserable, out of my head. Something in the back of my head kept saying there was something there of value, but after like literally a week of trying to figure out what that kernel of genius is, I sure as fuck don’t know. I’m unsure there is one. I think simply there was some appeal in having a “Matthew” who was not the villain. So often in my mindscapes, male me has been this evil entity, this fake person who is attempting to keep me from being happy. He’s trying to take over my mind, make sure I’m never myself. I’m past all that now, and I guess I want to make amends to the person I could have been. I’m sure I would have made a fine male, but that’s just not what I got dealt. I don’t need to be jealous of this person who could have been, who doesn’t have the problems I’ve had. I just need to be myself.
Anyway, it’s out of my head now. I wash my hands of it.

Let me just tell you about my proud teacher moment, okay?

So this semester, of course, I have been teaching. My class has been obscenely small. Like, to the point where I dunno why I was being paid to teach this small of a class, but I certainly wasn’t going to complain. It’s numbers have dwindled from 7 to about 4 or 5, depending on the day. We’re now at the end of the semester, and we’re just kind of coasting along.

Anyway, we sit down for basically our last class. I talk about their drafts, field questions, and then I basically say “Well, that’s basically all I’ve got, so you’re free to go if you want. Just have your final drafts done for next class.”
Melissa, who I’ve often clashed with a bit in class trying to explain things, leans back and says, “Thank goodness. Almost over.” There is a mumble of approval. She then says “I am so glad I stuck it out until the end.”
“Oh?” I said.
“Yeah, there was a lot of times where I just wanted to drop this class. Too much work. But I’m glad I didn’t. I learned a lot.”
“I totally agree,” says Mary. “I thought there was no way I was going to be able to do all these essays, but I suppose it paid off.”
“I’m really glad you all think so,” I said, and I really meant it.

I dunno. I’ve gotten good reviews and such in classes. Always been rated well. I know I’m a fine teacher. But it’s just such a different thing when you’ve been working with these few students, basically one on one, for months, and they really feel like it’s been a useful experience. Their essays have gotten a lot better. Not perfect, but way better. They have really improved. They see that. They appreciate it. What’s more, they decided to tell me.

It’s just good to know I’m being a positive influence. Makes me smile. Makes me happy I’m going to keep doing this stuff, for awhile anyway. I mean, it would be nice if I was doing it full time, had benefits and shit, but still… it’s fulfilling work. Moments like that is exactly why it is.

I am sitting here, shivering, though I am not cold. My dog is asleep under the blanket at my feet. I feel bad for him, because he responds to “Dog” much better than to his name, which makes me feel like a bad dogmom. Still, he likes me, and I like him. We played earlier. He made little happy yips as we ran up and down the hall. He’s a good dog.

I’m mostly thinking about how limited my taste in food is. For whatever reason I have been reading descriptions of food all night, and how fantastic it is. Much of it looks fantastic, but much of it looks like it involves many vegetables, which has never really been my thing. Always more of a carnivore. But as I try to think of what I could eat like that which I would like, I really fail at it. There’s very few “food adventures” I can go on, because I just don’t like so many things. I have the fucking worst kind of palette. I eat the same foods over and over again, and while I really don’t mind that, it’s moments like this that make me wonder if there wasn’t something better I could do. I really don’t know.
I flipped through the holiday cookbook at work, and most looked unappetizing or just obscenely time-consuming to make. I want something that has recipes like the silly but delicious Tater Tot Casserole my sister-in-law taught me to make. Something where you’re combining a bunch of pre-packaged items for excellent results. I really don’t know if those things exist. Also, how lame would I be for owning a cookbook like that?

I have so much to do tomorrow. So much to do. Gotta do that thing, and another thing, and I am also working. It feels like I am always working. It’s not true, but the way I could be working at any moment, at any time, really doesn’t help things. Maybe next semester will be better. I suppose I can hope.

I almost have my Christmas shopping done. My finances are doing very well. If I can afford my house payments in the middle of Christmas shopping, I feel like I’ve got this covered, but who knows. I’m making a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. More pills for me, hopefully. I may be screwed super quick. Life changes.

I shouldn’t worry.

I’m still shivering, and while my nose isn’t running any more, the way that I can’t, like, breathe very well really means I am probably sick. I bend over to pick up something at work and I just have to stop and gasp for awhile. I should make a second appointment for that. More to do.

I should take my dog to bed. I should rest. I haven’t really gotten any serious rest in awhile. At least my hands are healing. They don’t hurt near as bad anymore, which is nice. I’m glad I bought lotion.

I’ll sleep. Getting videos cued up on my iPad is kind of a pain, but it’ll do for now. I should curl up and disappear into bed. Maybe. At least for awhile. At least until tomorrow. Not forever. I’m past that point.
Yeah.

It’s not Thursday but I wrote a poem so DEAL WITH IT. I’m a poet! I write poems! Fuck yeah!

Inhibitions

In that tiny crack
in between consciousness and exhaustion
lies a different sort of person.
Active
with an ability to do what wants doing
instead of what needs.
Epoch of shackles
keeping me under
the glass ceiling of acceptability,
and she breaks through,
casing expelled behind her.
List of my wants gripped tightly
she makes her move,
mostly talking,
panting honesty
with the moment’s excitement.
Lacking censors,
reality is a vacuum,
movement frictionless.
Touch can shatter a personality
into useless slivers
that I find hard to ignore
as they dig into my skin
and remind me of what I’ve done.
Her skin is full of them,
a carapace,
and it just makes her smile more,
lips moving purely for current desires.
Taboo topics are unearthed,
shovel working furiously
during what time she has left
until finally,
with a thump of skull on floorboard,
she leaves.

I awake to find the deed done.
Rough, usually,
but I can sandpaper edges
to find a decent shape.
It’s a relief, mostly,
and as I run my fingertips
along the inset designs.
Leaving streaks of me
to paint the surface
as I leak from last night’s affairs,
I can’t help but think
of what I could accomplish
if she always existed
and who I’d be then.

It’s time again for another RAPID FIRE RAMBLINGS, the show were I talk about a lot of little things on my mind. Also, it’s not a show. It’s a blog post.

My knuckles have been bleeding. It’s ridiculous. I can’t move my fingers without my finger joints hurting, and there’s little breaks in the skin all over the backs of my hands. I really don’t know quite what I did wrong, but here’s my theory. My pills are making me use the bathroom a lot more than I used to. When I leave the bathroom, I wash my hands. This dries out my hands, and now that cold weather is here, it’s just gotten really terrible. I have bought some lotion to attempt to deal with this, but if you see my hands for awhile, uh, yeah, they look bad. It’s frustrating.

If there’s any wonder why I want to fix my work situation, it’s because of the silly crap like the last night or so, where, to get enough hours, I had to drive to St. Louis, drive back, immediately work until midnight, and then be back at work at 7 am the next day to work another eight hours. This, combined with me being passed over for promotions and being basically told the reason was me being overqualified? Well, that’s all pretty frustrating to me. I am frustrated at my job. Yep.

Recently, Gamefly has been having a lot of deals. I get a discount from them, too, being a long-time member, so it can get pretty cheap for older games! I’ve ended up buying a lot of mediocre games with split-screen co-op, like Hunted: The Demon’s Forge and F3AR. Why? I keep seeing them and thinking “Brer and I could have fun with that on the couch.” And I’m sure we will. I probably shouldn’t keep buying these things and planning like that, but I just can’t believe he’s going to be here in a month or so. Living here. With me. In a month. I want things to be fun. I want to have all the fun with him, as well as do all the things. We like video games. We should do them together. But yeah, maybe I should stop buying them… I have a stack of quite a few at this point.

There’s a small leak in the tubes leading to my washing machine. It’s not really a big deal. It makes the smallest little puddle after like… running it twice. But the location of that puddle is what is really annoying. You see, it is literally RIGHT IN FRONT OF the door to the dryer. I pull out some clothes, you know, to hang them or whatever, and a stray sock caught in the clothing will fall out and land right smack in the middle of that puddle. After I just dried it. That is frustration.

I am going to go to bed now, since I have to proctor a test in the morning. Goodnight. I’ll write something more substantial later.

Everyone loves The Muppets! Like, it’s this film, and everyone loves it! It’s awesome! Everyone should see it!

I found it incredibly mediocre.

Now, I’m not some huge Muppets fan or anything. I haven’t even seen all their movies. But I like the Muppets, and this movie excited me. I really wanted to see it! What I got wasn’t what I was bargaining for.

When the Muppets are being funny, they are awesomely funny. There are amazingly good jokes throughout this movie. I did many laughings throughout the film. But the movie was dead set on constantly killing any momentum of its jokes by becoming amazingly, overwhelmingly sentimental over and over again. Here I am, sitting in a theater, watching a movie called The Muppets, and constantly Kermit the Frog is putting on this super sad face because “nobody loves us anymore, and we need to work together, but how can we make people love us?” PEOPLE LOVE YOU. THAT’S WHY WE’RE IN THE THEATER WATCHING YOUR MOVIE. It felt so fake and so deliberately designed to tug at nostalgia heartstrings. It would have worked if kept to a minimum, but you’d have a scene of fun and funny jokes, and then a scene of this bullshit, over and over. It’s like they couldn’t just establish their premise, which was a fine premise for this movie, and then just move on with it and have fun. They had to treat their plot super serious, which is just not why I wanted to watch The Muppets. But maybe that’s not the case with everyone else. I don’t know. Still, the ending was a very silly resolution that was not the resolution to something serious, so I don’t know what they were thinking with that, either.

Really, them hammering that home is what hurt the movie for me. There was plenty of good stuff. I’ve had this song stuck in my head since I saw the film, for instance. When the Muppets were doing what they do best, they did a bang-up job of it, and reminded me why I wanted to see the movie in the first place. Maybe me and my friends are just broken, and it’s fantastic, but man, it didn’t do enough for me as a movie. So much potential, squandered. Maybe something good will come out of this “relaunch” of the Muppets afterwards, though.

Yes, Aesa, this is inspired by that conversation we had the other night. Heh.

Unreasonable Things I Want

I often want unreasonable things.
Example:

I think a company should make a show
where everyone is a character
with so much depth you could
jam your fist into them
and sink down to the shoulder,
but would also have
jamming of other things
into other things
in a character-appropriate
arousing manner.
Constant sexy would radiate
but not too sexy,
no need to be gratuitous,
but I just want to see
sex lives functioning
for people who deserve good ones,
a normal day ending
with a run-of-the-mill lay,
maybe some cuddling
before a cut to the morning.
I want to see lazy sex,
boring sex,
totally vanilla
between two people
who don’t look like they were stretched
in eager repetition
until they were proper,
softness, bulk, texture perfect
for sale.
Each lick of a pussy,
each cock filling a mouth,
would not be for the audience,
although filmed,
but would clearly be an act
for the participants,
a transfer of mutual respect and emotion
between eager conduits
that simply have so many electrons,
well,
they have to go somewhere.
I could watch,
maybe lick my lips hungrily,
but in general just be glad
that true happiness can exist
between two or three or a room full of people
in such a simple, overused act.
Like all fiction,
I will be reconfirmed in my belief
that endings like that can be happy.
I will feel safe in my knowledge
that love can be brewed
within a cauldron of pants and moans.