The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

I can’t do this tonight. I’m too tired.
I can’t do this tonight.

You don’t know how much this frustrates me. Supposed to write something every day. But it’s not worth the struggle. It’d probably take me like an hour to put something together that I would consider coherent enough to post, and I just can’t spare that time. I need sleep. Like, for fucking serious, I need sleep. I’ve been falling asleep at the wheel constantly while driving. I can’t focus on my work because I’m exhausted all the time. I need sleep.

So I’m really sorry. I’ll write something tomorrow, promise. Just give me this, okay? I am begging myself to be okay with skipping a day here, basically. Please be okay with that. I’m going to bed.

I am still exhausted. My work schedule is just bleh! Today I was teaching on like 3 hours of sleep, and then I took a long nap, and waking up from that nap, I felt so terrible, so fucking terrible, oh my gods. I’m mostly back now, still a little off, but I’ve got to go to work and then wake up early again, so I’m not looking forward to it. Yay for work and then more work and then more work! Ugh, I need to quit Kohl’s.

We’ve watched a ton of Adventure Time and I have learned to love the Lumpy Space Princess. She’s clearly the best character. I also find that I can do pretty well a perfect impression of her, which I have been doing pretty well constantly since. I have used this to ultimate romantic advantage.
I was smoochin’ with CJ, as I often do, and I get this idea in my head, but I’m like, “I don’t want to ruin the moment.” After the smooching, I point out that I had the perfect idea to ruin the mood, and he’s like “What was it?” so I pull him in for more making out to show him. We kiss for awhile, and then I break, and whisper in my best Lumpy Space Princess impression “I knew you liked me.” We then fell over laughing for like 5 minutes. I am an idiot. Also the queen of seduction. I can give lessons, if you want.

I think the IRS is making fun of me, and I’m really mad about it, even though it’s kind of a stupid thing to be mad about.
Basically, I got my tax return a few days ago, and it was addressed to my old name. I got really pissy. It’s not like I filed under my own name! It’s been a goddamn year since I got it changed, and all my paperwork was under Alexis. They obviously read the form to get the number they had to send me on the check, as well as my new address, which has changed since then. Yet, here we are. I deposited the check, fumed for awhile, and then moved on with my life.
Then today, the IRS sends me a check for a fucking DOLLAR to my old name. They are just trying to make me mad. Who can I punch to remedy this?

I’m going back to be… oh wait, I have to go to work. Yay. Later, blog. Sorry this is a bit short.

Here’s a thing that I point out like every single time I watch ponyshow and is really so stupid and says a lot about my level of obsession. But eh, I’m going to get it out anyway.

Why can’t they keep their background ponies straight?

In the most recent episode, you had Lyra and Colgate as bridesmaids for the evil clone of Princess Cadance.
Why?
Lyra and Colgate live in Ponyville. Like, full time. Why would they be involved with Cadance in any way? Why would they be chosen for that? I asked these questions because they bother me in the stupidest way possible.

This really happens all the time. They have background ponies they just throw into shots, in locations that aren’t Ponyville, and I just have to wonder why the hell they’re there. It just doesn’t make any sense for all of Ponyville to follow the Mane 6 about on their adventures. Berry Punch, Golden Harvest… why does Pinkie Pie imagine them as floozies specifically in her little story in MMMMystery on the Friendship Express? I just want to know why!

I guess it’s me being too english-major-y and whatnot to expect their to be reasons behind this. But it just seems like it’s incredibly easy to make a “new pony.” You just pick some colors and draw a random cutie mark. We’ve seen cutie marks so ridiculous that you could really draw about anything, and then it’s a new nameless background pony. Why not do that when the cast is in Canterlot, and leave the Ponyville background regulars to Ponyville, you know?

It takes me out of the show. About cartoon ponies learning lessons about friendship. So, you know. Fix that, Hasbro.

(I am so lame.)

Last night, I cooked a thing. Well, okay, we had a fancy dinner time meal double date thingy with Jonathan and Shauna, and we cooked steaks and stuff. It was neat! I wanted some potatoes to go with my meal, and I had all these mashed potatoes left over from making potato skins and I’m like “what kind of crazy thing can I make?” And I ended up making these Potato Knishes, and they were really nice! It was totally cool to make them!

I’ve been doing all kinds of stupid cooking experiments like that. Well, CJ and I, of course. We made Shrimp Skewers, and I made a whole rack of dry rub ribs with a rub I put together myself, and we did all sorts of cooking things that I never would have really seriously attempted before. I mean, sure, I still do things like stick pizza rolls in the oven and cram them in my mouth for dinner on occasion, but seriously, I am doing so much more cooking now. What’s more, I find that I’m planning my day around it. I find myself looking at an empty day and going “it’s time for a food adventure!” because that’s a good use of my free time.

I only mention all this because this just feels like a really crazy change for me. The concept of cooking was always appealing to me, in the same way that I always felt like drinking wine would be nice in concept, even though I really rather hate wine and all the alcohols. I just never really expected myself to cook other than, you know, quick stuff. The bare minimum. Things from boxes and whatnot.

Yet here I am. I do this stuff a couple times a week now, it seems. At least every once and awhile. I just wonder what changed. Is it just that I have someone to cook for now? I mean, that’s kind of a nice thing. He also really keep telling me how good a cook I am (lies) which is a nice ego boost and makes me feel like I can try more complex things. Is that all it is? Or am I just getting old, and that’s what old women do: cook a thing.

I don’t know. But I kind of like it. I also like that I feel no pressure if I want to just go “fuck it, pizza” as well. It’s a no pressure thing. It’s a hobby. I can get used to this.

Note before I even get started: If this becomes a game I will actually run, I will reread Watership Down and Tales from Watership Down before I go about writing any of the flavor text. I am doing this off memories of books I read a long time ago at this point. I am not sure if I am going to have the tone write in this prospective write-up. I only mention this because that sort of thing REALLY matters to me as a writer. So. If the tone’s not right, this was mostly to get a basic gameplan of the plot and mechanics down. Okay? Okay.

And now, the pitch.

Like so many things, trouble crept up slowly. The scent on the wind seemed insignificant until it was too late. In retrospect, the signs were there, and I simply could not see them. The Cult of Inlé built its numbers slowly, and seemed normal enough at first. Even the coup that brought Hraknilrah into powered seemed fair enough: it had felt like a change could be useful. But it soon became clear things weren’t that simple. Hrkanilrah used his oswala to push rabbits left and right into joining the cult. Soon, those who did not give in began to disappear, and those remaining were told “it was their time.” We does were skittish and frightened. Many joined, worried for their kits if they did otherwise.
I did not stand by.
I talked to the bucks and does who were trying to resist. I spoke of the need to leave: the need to escape this predicament. Many did not want to go. Many did not want to live as hlessil, wandering aimlessly without a warren to call home. But as more and more disappeared, they knew they had no choice, and they joined me, one by one.
We made a plan. We knew when the time was right. We knew who of the oswala was the weakest, and who we could overpower. Everything was set. We would finally be safe.
But you… I trusted you. I thought you were on my side. But you told Hrkanilrah. He prepared. But he couldn’t stop us all. Even now, they’re running, far from here, to safety. I wish I could be there to help them, instead of under your foot, with your claws in my chest and your teeth at my neck. I’m sure Hrkanilrah had a backup plan. I’m sure not all of the group that got away has pure intentions. I had thought about this. Planned for it. And now those plans are useless, and they are on their own.
But I am not afraid to die. I will stare down the Black Rabbit and laugh. Despite all you and your cult have done, they will survive and live on. You betrayal will, in the end, amount to nothing. I know it.

Watership Mafia

The town are the Refugees of the lair of the cult, attempting to establish a new life from themselves away from the dangers the cult represents. However, hidden amongst their group are cultists, our Mafia faction, sent along with the refugees in order to take them out, as nobody is allowed to quit, and nobody is allowed to disagree. The Refugees may vote to banish one rabbit from their group each day, sending them out into the harsh wilderness they find themselves in with little chance for survival. The Cultists get a night kill and night chat as per usual, and of course, can vote to banish just like any other rabbit.

There are hrair refugees and hrair cultists in the game.

Days are the normal 72 hours, and Nights are the normal 48. Let’s please follow normal Mafia procedure and not be silly, doing things like talking about the game outside of the game and so on. No posting of text verbatim from your role PM, or other such material sent to you in secret.

The Seer
Among the refugees is a Seer, a rabbit blessed with strange visions that give him or her a glimpse at the future. They’ve kept this power a secret for their whole lives, since they have not forseen anything too disastrous and they’re unlikely to be believed by their fellow rabbits, but in the current situation everyone finds themselves in, their power is much more relevant.
At the 48 hour mark of every day, the Seer will get a vision. They will see the end of the game day, and they will learn the affiliation of the player who currently has the most votes on him or her because they can see the results of the lynch before it happens. (If there is a tie, which player the Seer will see the future of will be determined by random die roll.)
The Town will be informed when The Seer dies.

The Storytellers
The Lapine race is famous for their stories, and even in these dire times, the desire to tell stories to teach and inspire cannot be quelled.
There are two storytellers: a cultist and a refugee, chosen at random from among their ranks. During the day, before the 48 hour mark, each storyteller will message the GM in secret with a general plot for a story and a short moral of this story of 10 words or less. The plot can be as complicated or simple as the storyteller wants, and the moral can say anything the storyteller would like, even if it seems to have nothing to do with the plot. The GM will then take the given plot and moral and fashion an in-universe story to be told following that plot. When the day reaches the 48 hour mark, both stories will be told to the town, with the verbatim morals attached at the end. The order they are posted each day will be random, and no indication of which storyteller is which will be given in the flavor text.
When a storyteller dies, the town will not be informed. A random member of the team the storyteller was from will become the new storyteller for that team. The Seer will never be a storyteller.

Everyone in my Sikeston writing class believes in creation science. Granted, that is not a lot of people, perse, only 5, but that’s still enough to make me my jaw drop.

Now, when I told CJ this, his response was “Well, love, do you remember where we live?” Maybe that’s a relevant point. I’m in the Bible Belt. People believe in things here, and in general, that’s cool. I’m down with that. Beliefs are fucking awesome.

But this sort of thing… and everyone… and they’re in college… I just… I don’t know.

The thought process required to believe actual science and also believe in your religion is so simple, I really have no idea why people have problems with it. God made everything. Clearly he made these natural systems that work the way we are finding. Done. Science go. But I guess that’s too hard? That would require saying, I guess, that the Bible is not a history book but instead a story book filled with damn good ideas that are worth following like, you know, don’t be a dick to people. And people won’t do that, I guess. That’s across a line. So they’d rather ignore what we as a species have learned.

I don’t know. Believe what you want. These students aren’t hurting me by believing all that. In fact, I really like my little class. They’re all pretty great people and more engaged than a lot of my other classes. I’ve had a lot of fun teaching them this semester. But it just makes me worry about their future. I mean, the paper that sparked the conversation which caused me to learn this that one of the students wrote was just… wrong. Even the creation science was not in line with what I know about “serious” creation science, and the science he was trying to refute was even MORE wrong. I’ve got to tell him to fix all that in order to have a good paper, and I did. But if he seriously isn’t about to look all that stuff up before I prompt him to for the assignment, what hope does he have? Like, how does he actually learn anything? I do wonder. It worries me. He’s a good guy, and I want him to succeed.

People who believe are awesome. I 100% believe, and have proof, that you can be seriously religious and not fall into these sorts of major learning traps, and it is those sorts of people I really respect. (Well, a sort of people I really respect.) But as an educator, I’m just filled with fear at learning this about my class. I’m an English teacher. I don’t teach science. I can’t try to tell these people this is wrong. That’s not my place. I’m going to help this guy write his creation science paper, and it is going to be the best creation science paper. And I am going to disagree with it fucking completely. And I’m going to worry about what happens when he takes a science class, or meets someone who doesn’t understand his beliefs and actually attempts to tear him down, or he has to make some sort of decision based on either science or religion, but probably not both.

He’s awesome. I know he could handle thinking it all out. Will he, though? That’s what I don’t know. And that’s scary.

Sorry about the lack of posts with a lot of specific meat on them lately. I’ve been all over the place mentally and physically, as I said yesterday. Still, content! Rolling right along with the content.

Tonight, CJ and I went to O’Charley’s. This restaurant has been in Cape like forever. I think I went once and got a burger and was like “eh” and then I never went back? But we went a tried it.
Man, I felt like a fool.
We had a great fucking meal! Well, at least I did. CJ said his fish was pretty solid, but I had this “New York Pizza Pasta”? It was like a really fantastic pasta with a spicy red sauce, lots of peppers, and Italian sausage and pepperoni. It was AMAZING. A really fantastic meal! We had an appetizer of these chips dipped in queso that was pretty great too! I was really impressed. Why was I not going to this place? I do not know. I mean, you know, it’s a chain restaurant, but we got food that was pretty well better than, say, Applebee’s, at Applebee’s prices. I can get behind that.

I guess Kickstarter continues to be a thing? I just backed a third one, for a lot of money. (I got on the bandwagon and got one of those Pebble watches. I always wanted something like that because I am a lame nerd. So.) It’s just weird to me how all of the sudden Kickstarter is just… a thing. It’s what you do. It’s also something I’m 100% comfortable with, although at this point I have kind of spent a bunch of money on it and seen no return on my investment. But recently I learned that the lovely Cards Against Humanity was a Kickstarter thing? So clearly this is generally for the forces of good, right? Probably? I dunno. I need to stop kicking money at things… well, until something cool comes along, I guess. Then I’ll do it again. And again. I guess. You know. Giving up cash for vague promises of future products! Awwwwwwwww yeh.

Have I said this before? I’m going to say it again. You know, when you’re online in a chat, or writing a story, or something like that, it’s so easy to describe positions being comfortable. “Sure, yeah,” you say, “two normal people could snuggle up together like that, and it wouldn’t be awkward or uncomfortable at all.” And then you try to bring some of that stuff into reality, trying to lay on a couch or in bed watching a thing all snuggled, or even curled up and leaning against someone else on a couch, and suddenly even the stupidest simple position is like fucking impossible to get comfortable in. I blame the extra arm. There’s always an extra arm that, if it wasn’t there, the position would be comfortable! But instead, someone has their arm pinned somewhere awkward. It sucks. Being close shouldn’t be so hard! No fair, reality.

Later!

Hi. Here’s a boring post.

Today I almost drove off the road driving back from Sikeston. Like, seriously moments away from running my car straight off the highway into a ditch. Already I was exhausted today. I was kind of spacy in my classes. But driving home, I was just so tired, I was nodding off.

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence.

I figured up how much I work on a daily basis now. If I’m being conservative, on a normal Tuesday like today when I have ad set in the evening, I work… 12 hours? Not conservative, probably more like 14. Many of them are late at night, and the hours the next day start in the morning, where I get up around 5:30 to get shit done. I have more time off MWF, but often that’s when I need to do chores around the house, run errands, drive to St. Louis for an appointment, and so on. I take time off on weekends, and be lazy as fuck, but that just means I have more to do come Monday, in a shorter period of time.

I don’t know, I feel like I’m trapped in this thing, and I am just kind of tired. Even with time off, I feel like I just break even, and soon enough I get burned down again. It’s enough to make me want to return to caffeine.

The solution is to dump Kohl’s, but it’s a solution I can’t take. I need the insurance, as shitty as it is, and I need to have a summer job or I’m going to go broke. I hope after this summer, I can dump it, but then I’m just going to be worrying about next summer… I’m not sure if it’s all going to work out. I mean, hopefully Brer is here by then, and then I have more roommates, thus less expenses, and that will be nice. Or maybe I’ll have a full time job before it’s an issue again, and I won’t have to worry about it! I can dream, right?

Seriously, though. I’m fucking tired. I’m going to try not to be cranky but it’s hard! It’s hard.

I want to write about this article. Feel free to read it first, if you want.

It basically confuses the shit out of me.

There are many things I just actively don’t understand about this article. I think part of it is how it’s put together: the title is not what it’s about, really, and the format and flow changes pace a few times in odd ways. That could have probably been fixed with more editing and revision, though. No, what I don’t get is… well, a lot of the premises. I don’t get it.

That idea of “I must dress ultra-feminine to come across as simply feminine” is something I don’t understand. I’ve been told that. Like, I’ve been told that by people like my therapist. People have told me that. I’ll fully admit that, in general, I can tell people have an easier time around me when I do. When I’m wearing a skirt and such, or something very tight that makes it very clear I have breasts, there’s less… vagueness when people address me. That’s kind of nice in a way. Even though I’ve been me for awhile now, and most of the time stuff like that doesn’t make me stop and go “holy shit” anymore, when I’m having a bad day, that kind of thing can give me a smile.

However, here’s the thing. My goal is not to be recognized as female. My goal is to not be recognized as male. There is a difference.

When I’m dressed how I dressed before all this happened, just hanging around the house or grabbing a quick bite to eat or whatever, there is vagueness there. I am androgynous. I can tell a difference when people address me. People avoid pronouns and things in order to not have to make a decision, because they don’t know. This is a win for me. I’m okay with coming off that way, and most of the time as soon as I talk to them, they understand I’m a woman, as I make sure to make sure my voice isn’t sounding questionable in such situations. I’m not a very girly girl, I never will be, and besides for the occasional thrill, I don’t want to be. I don’t want to wear a lot of makeup, or even any makeup, most of the time. I don’t want to wear all this women’s clothing that just strikes me as absurd, such as the huge amounts of obscenely small pairs of shorts that exist in the world. If you like that stuff, rock on! I hope you have fun. I am not really interested in it. Haven’t been. Doubt I somehow will become as such.
If I know I’m going to have a bad or rough day, and I know that a rare mistake from a stranger would make me feel like garbage, sure, I dress a little more feminine to stop that from happening. But every day? I don’t know.

It just makes me worry about the author, I guess. Is her voice really deep? Guess that could be. I could see how that would make someone paranoid, but the situation she described at the beginning of the article wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, so I don’t see that being the main issue here. I guess, it just, to me, signals a real lack of confidence in yourself. Again, of course a mistake from someone is going to make you feel a little shitty. It does suck. But in the end, you’re you. You bounce back, and keep going, and be your goddamn self, and let nobody take that away from you. I feel like she does not have any confidence not just in her passing but in herself in general if she does not dress up the way she is talking about. Maybe that’s the lesson that the end of the essay is trying to transmit? It feels like there’s an undertone of that, but I don’t feel like that’s what she’s saying at all. She’s saying she could feel confident if there was someone who had already done it. That’s kind of bullshit. She’s letting herself eat herself from the inside.

I get insecurity. I have motherfucking been there, and I often go there when I’m having a shitty day. I used to sing songs about how useless I was and how much it would be better if I was not here. I get insecurity. But in transitioning, I mastered it, to a great extent. I’m not perfect with it. I doubt anyone feels 100% in control all the time. But I have fucking DEFEATED the biggest problem in my life, and you know what? People still love me. I’ve still got the best friends I could ask for, I am the girlfriend of two wonderful men who I love very much, and most everyone at my places of work are fantastic. Even my parents, who were insanely against it and kept saying they didn’t understand, are calling me by the right name and right pronouns now. The one thing that has always hung over my head is gone. How can I not be confident? I’m doing the right thing. I have skills. I’m intelligent. I can handle anything life throws at me.
So I guess I just wonder how she can have mastered what I would assume would be the biggest problem in HER life, and not feel that way. I wonder what’s going on. My psychologist has said I have things together a lot more than a lot of her transgendered patients. Is that really true? Am I in some way special? I don’t feel that way. But I’m just left wondering how someone can accept moving from being trapped in the wrong body to being trapped in a bunch of mannerisms they don’t agree with. How can they free themselves from one set of bonds and then be okay with fucking themselves up with another? I really don’t get it. I really don’t.

If you treat something like a problem, it is a problem. If you don’t, it’s not a problem. This is just how things go. Confidence cuts through barriers like what she’s describing. I highly doubt there’s a single ACTUAL professional who actively thinks that a woman, or a transsexual, can’t write about video games. Clearly, if there is someone like that, fuck them. However, I think that, if they have that ridiculous bias, which is not impossible, I fully admit, then it’s subconscious, and that sort of “thing I didn’t know I was doing” can be defeated by confidence. If your body language, and everything you do, reflects the lack of an issue, it’s not that hard to break that stuff down. But you have to believe in yourself, as a whatever you are, and know that you can do the job. If you waver, that’s an opening, one that people will take, no matter what the circumstances. That’s just a general life thing, right?

If you can’t succeed by being yourself, why would you want to succeed? Luckily, you can. You can succeed and be yourself. I read this article, which was described to me on twitter as “very smart,” and I just wanted to throw up my hands in frustration. This is sending the wrong message. It’s set up to show that the situations it’s describing, while clearly shitty and unpleasant, are just life. That’s just what you deal with, and the only way to push through them is to play a game you don’t want to play. That’s such bullshit.
Feel free to tell me I’m way the fuck too optimistic and don’t have a grip on reality. But seriously. That is such fucking bullshit.

I feel like I’m always writing about moments nowadays when I talk about this sort of stupid stuff. It’s never shitty days, or weeks, or years. It’s just one moment where all of the sudden I’m shaken. I doubt like I used to. A moment where I want to fall apart. Sometimes I do. Often I don’t, because I can’t afford to.

It’s nice to be able to fall apart, though. I’ve been doing it in front of CJ lately. A thing leads to another in my head and then I’m back to my old self, my depressed self, who basically can’t accept that nice things are happening to her. It’s stupid. It’s frustrating. It makes me cry and hide and generally want to smack myself. But he listens and has understood, which just… it’s nice. I mean, I’ve fallen apart in front of Brer before. He’s had stupid phone calls aplenty. He’s seen me fucked up too. But in person, it’s just… I’m way more vulnerable. I can’t hide. I can’t get out of the situation. Online, I can just step away. Even on the phone, I can just hang up. But there I am, a stupid fool, and I can’t get away… and it’s okay. He’s still there. I always worry that if anyone knows about my little episodes, they won’t want to be around me anymore. They won’t want to be here. I’ll stop being a positive influence. But it doesn’t work like that. I let it out, and I can move on. Bottling it up is bad shit… I’m glad I don’t have to.

Still, those are big moments. Those are big deals. The little stuff is just as upsetting, perhaps, but I have to just move on from it and keep going.
An example: Mike, a man I worked with long ago, stopped by Kohl’s. He greets me by my old name. I panic. There’s just this wave of remembering. It’s a link back to how things used to be. It shook me.
I recovered real fast. I told him my name was Alexis now, and asked him how he was doing, and then got back to work. But just these stupid moments. Stupid moments.

I’m fine. I’m great. It’s just unfortunate when I stumble. It bothers me to some extent. It shouldn’t be like that.
But oh well. I’ll get the worries out, on this blog or with those I trust or whatnot, and move on. Things will keep being cool. Cool? Cool.