Monster Hunter International by Larry Correia

My.

Mind.

Is.

Blown.

Femmeboy, One Word

Theme Quote Of The Day:

Gender should be dynamic.

Kate Bornstein

(Disclaimer: Not sure if that's paraphrased or not, but it IS one of her prevailing themes, so I'm going with it.)

I have struggled with just about every aspect of my life for as long as I've been aware that I'm not heteronormative in, well, pretty much any way, shape, or form.

I'm not skinny. I'm not straight. I'm not Christian. I'm not monogamous. I'm not cisgender. I'm not vanilla. I'm not a lot of things, and even now, as "enlightened" as I've become, I don't own all my weirdness. I don't deny it, but I have a bit of a fuck-you attitude towards the normies, and am still working on not hating those different from me. I don't always differentiate between confusion and prejudice, misunderstandings and disdain.

I'm plus-sized. I'm pansexual. I'm pagan. I'm polyamorous. I'm transgender. I'm kinky. THOSE are postive statements. I love me. I love my communities. I'm different from just about everyone in each of them; I NEVER claim to speak for any particular group; I'm politically incorrect, I curse a lot, and I'm a pretty angry person, and that's okay.

I'm working on owning myself.

I'm a femmeboy. I'm a drag queen in a woman's body, but not as well-dressed. I can't do my own makeup, I'm a hot mess, sometimes I'm an ugly mess, and all of that's okay.

It's okay to not be a 100% manly transman, or a 100% feminine transwoman. IT'S OKAY, DAMMIT.

I'm learning as I go, and I'm never gonna stop evolving. And I love that, as hard and scary as it is. It's okay, it's wonderful.

I'm 100% me. That's all I can, or will ever claim. I love that.

I hope you do too, even if you don't like what I have to say, because supporting those we don't agree with means we support everyone to be themselves, and to live and let live.

Just don't be mean.

Just don't cause harm - not even to yourself.

Own it, live it, love it.

I'll continue doing my best for the rest of my life.

It's Not I'll Try; It's I Have To

Theme Quote Of The Day:

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

Ray Bradbury

This morning, I began typing up THE MONSTER SQUAD. It's 872 words so far, and I'm very proud of myself. Even though it's already driving me insane in how much work it needs.

I've known the whole thing was rough, but by paying closer attention to where I need to Show More, Tell Less, I'm starting to panic. (I suffer from anxiety; panic is far easier than breathing). Not to mention how much weaker it gets, and how much more emotion is needed...

But this longhand hot mess is only about 50,000 words. That's half a full-length novel. I have room to grow.

It'll be okay.

I knew it was hard work from the beginning, but no matter how many times I do this, it's just as daunting as the first time. It's a whole world at my fingertips, swirling around in my mind, in which two others already live. Holy. Shit.

But I can do it. I know I can. I'm a writer; it's all I've ever NEEDED to be, and I'm too crazy to succeed at much else.

However easier it would be to succumb to life, to wither and die, to be crushed by the angst and the pain, I can't. My characters deserve better.

They deserve to share their stories with the world.

I Should Really Be Medicated

Theme Quote Of The Day:

Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.

Albert Einstein

That definitely describes me last night.

Two cats have died since my roommate Danille and I have lived in this duplex on campus. Apparently that scarred me even more than I thought. Not to mention all the animals I've dealt with losing, sometimes literally, in my lifetime.

Depression is pretty obvious, but the really Bad thing is my anxiety. Last night, I couldn't find my kitten, Feisty, and it got into my head that she was dead or had gotten outside somehow. Our house is a mess. Her little corpse could be somewhere.

She's done this before, hiding in my bed, sleeping peacefully, freaking me out. Ryan reminded me that This Is What Animals Do!!! a million times, but crazy doesn't listen to logic. I looked under BOOKS and PIZZA BOXES, for fuck's sake.

After four hours and eleventy searches in the same places, I turned around, and there she was, stumbly and sleepy-eyed, and I wept and cuddled her and she was like "Sup?"

Cats are assholes.

But I have Coke and Camels again and life sucks slightly less.

I also FINALLY finished reading the mss, The Monster Squad. Still no idea what it should actually be titled. I like it. I see lots of flaws. I have some ideas on how to fix them.

Life's generally alright. I really should be on medication. I also need a therapist.

I suffer from depression, anxiety, ADHD, OCD. All unconfirmed. SOMETHINGS are wrong with me. Yes, that is supposed to be plural. I'm also transgender. But I'm poor, y'all, and life sucks like that.

I'll be okay. Maybe.

My pets are just not allowed to die, ever again.

Being My Friend, It Comes With A Price

Theme Quote Of The Day:

Iron Maidens: A juicer, but for people!

ME

I sound like a serial killer 99% of the time. The other 1% is reserved for those moments I spend not existing. Yeah, that's a thing I can do.

My roommate, like me, is a writer, so god forbid our computers are ever commandeered by the police. They'd find us guilty of every unsolved crime ever.

Today we've been researching paraphilia (fetishes) and torture methods - FOR SCIENCE! Well, for writing. And laughs. But we'll go with the science thing.

Hence the above comment I made. It's totally gauche to quote yourself, but fuck it. It's really not the worst thing the cops would find if they investigated me. But it's cool. We know our local cops because of our ex-roommate; we make them laugh, blush, and hold kittens. That's pretty awesome.

I blame my extra dose of weirdness today because I discovered The Bloggess and have been reading her posts for the past two days. And dying of laughter. And researching fucked up shit. That last part's been a standard in my life since I found the internet. My parents are awesome. Dinner was never boring.

Some of the fetishes pissed me off, though. Not that they were gross or evil - those go without saying - but that being attracted to TRANSMEN, TRANSWOMEN, TRANSSEXUALS, and/or TRANSVESTITES are fetishes. Seriously?!

And lots of judgmental comments. And lumping sadomasochists in with dangerous, disgusting, and downright illegal paraphilias.

Fuck you, internet.

Fuck you.

On that note...my friends really need to stop laughing when I say I'm a man. I know I have breasts that are rather large and delightfully squishy. These two things have nothing to do with one another.

His name is Robert Paulson. I have bitch-tits.

Bless Me, For I Have Sinned

Theme Quote Of The Day:

Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives. The English reading public explains the reason why.

James Joyce

I fucked up.

Usually, when I write out of character, I can fix it. If not immediately, then later on, in edits, when I realize my error.

But in this case, I realized it immediately, and remain powerless.

I write with my best friend, Ryan, fellow transman, and have for almost a year now. Through writing we have discovered a lot about ourselves, and each other, and come to terms with a lot more than we would have otherwise. We were not nearly as close at the beginning as we are now.

We write through text, mostly, and the well of creativity never runs dry, though we generate thousands of words on the least of days, because we bounce off one another. 99.9% of the time, we are mere observers of the world, in our brains, coming together.

On rare occasion, the deepest, darkest, ugliest pieces of me emerge.

Occasionally, it is I who speak, not my character; it is my issue, my pain, that oozes onto the figurative page. And every time this happens, it fucks whatever character I am currently working on over.

I beg, and I plead, and I weep, but sometimes - like today - Ryan refuses to let me fix it. And it doesn't stop hurting me, knowing how I've punished my brain children for something that is not and never was their burden. It doesn't matter that it's a small, throwaway thing. Any tiny bit of OOCness, any tiny bit of something that doesn't belong, is the gravest sin a writer can inflict about his work. It is a hellworthy trespass. In a single sentence, you can destroy a character, an entire novel, just because you have ruined the credibility and the truth of something already so difficult to believe - that these words really do represent a real person.

And she is real. Inside my head. And on paper. But she was not the one who spoke in that one, tiny, throwaway reply. And there's nothing I can do that will make that okay.

I know better. But I'm human. And I fucked up. And I'm still pissed at myself for it.

Boredom

Theme Quote Of The Day:

Boredom is the feeling that everything is a waste of time; serenity, that nothing is.

Thomas Szasz

I am almost never bored. Moments like these, where I am, happen when my brain is so restless, I can't focus on anything.

I ran out of things to watch on Hulu. I have no first draft to write; I've come to the weakest part of my WIP; I swear to god I might be ADHD.

I don't know what to blog. There's too much I could talk about. There's too much in my fucking head. I've been all over the place in coming to slow, eternal terms with my gender identity, the endless process. I'm almost jealous of non-writers, of the cisgendered, of the heternormative. It seems like life would be so easy if I wasn't a million different odd things most people aren't.

Would I change it? No. Not ever. The pain is worth the lack of dullness, even if I'll never be at peace.

But, God, oh God, I could use a single day where things were easy. Just a little vacation from myself.

I can find serenity in truly not thinking, but in being myself, never.