Angry Rant ~ Politics and Fiction

Well, that was a fun 20 seconds of no angry ranting. But here, I’ll try and not make this an ‘angry’ rant, more so just a … conversation by myself.

So long story short, there’s this dipshit idea out there that ‘politics’ should stay out of books, especially fantasy and fiction. I fell across it again just today, from an unexpected blogger (instant unfollow, seeing as they also unveiled themselves as a Trumpster!).

Whoever came up with that dumbass idea seems to have no concept of what constitutes basic human rights and compassion, as well as actual politics.

Here, let me make a distinction for you all. Human rights is generally about giving people proper respect and treatment. Politics is generally like ‘where should we put that parking sign’.

Now I KNOW that as of late, the two have become mish-mashed due to a large orange bladder-speaker and their piss-pot of a base. But this is beside the point, which is -> If you have a problem with people being represented and treated respectfully and with equity, maybe the problem isn’t the author but YOU.

As a trans person, I’m just sick and fed up of this. Are your basic human rights up for debate? NO? Then leave mine the fuck alone.

“oh, but!” I hear the piss-pots whine. “we don’t mind that! It’s just the way the left is doing it is ‘too much’!”

You know what? The ‘left’, as you all like to call it, generally listens to ‘own voices’, where yeah, views not your own might be put forward. And yeah, it’ll be disconcerting for you. Get used to it, you’re not the fucking center of the world.

Maybe I’d be a little less pissed if this blogger hadn’t been a white cis male who seemed so offended about everything and anything – the type that simultaneously declares that those who are fighting for their rights are ‘too much’. What a hypocrite.

Anyways, if you believe politics should stay out of fiction, what the fuck are you even writing about? No human rights, no fight for the poor, no fight for the environment, no classist struggle, no … nothing? Yeah, great story, jerk.

Because what you actually mean when you say ‘keep politics out of it’ is ‘keep those views and people I don’t agree with away from me’. If you don’t want to read about anything but yourself, in your own lens, in your own comfort, then that begs the question of what are you reading? What are you learning?

But what’s worse than that? It’s that you don’t want representations of those people in your stories shows you don’t want them around you in daily life. And that’s just discriminatory and nasty, you asshole. What have you got against disabled people? Against minorities?

Seriously, people who want politics out of fiction just want to see their own privileged view spewed back at them. They want to keep seeing themselves as the center of the fucking world, and not to understand or empathize with anyone who they don’t consider as equals. Because let’s face it, if you empathized with others, you wouldn’t have a problem reading about them. Jerks.

RAGE RANT

UGH! So, i decided to be a good lil’ blogger today and connect out there with some lesser-known blogs. Because, you know, social networking and all that. Getting my story out there to people so that, maybe, eventually, I can make a small living out of my writing.

Well, do I regret that, or do I regret that?

So I searched for novel on wordpress, and found a fellow author also doing serial posts of their novels. Well, I thought I might as well give it a read. Find out what other peoples are doing out there in the world.

It was a good albeit a little long read. So I commented happily that, yeah, I liked the story and would like to read more. And then I thought, hey, why not see who this author is and read more about them? And oooh, they have thousands of followers! Maybe I can learn a trick or two. Barf.

One of their latest posts, however, caught my eye. In short, after reading it in utter disbelief, this author was ranting about how ‘obvious’ it was that this whole COVID- 19 thing was a scam by people who worked for China. Not just that (because, apparently that made sense?) they were raving about the ‘damage’ that social distancing and shutting down work places would do to the economy and people in general.

Like, wow. Okay, first thing first, people are literally dying from this stupid fucking virus. Have a heart. Second, the fact that your economy is about to blow up is not because social distancing is bad -> It’s because your leaders don’t give a shit about you like they’re supposed to. Here, in Canada, businesses and self-employed people have volleys of funding and resources being made just to help us through this. Why? Because our people give a rat’s ass about each other.

Maybe, just maybe, if your stupid-ass fucking leaders gave half a shit about you people, they’d be doing something to financially support the average citizen. Here, they are putting the homeless in shelters to keep them from getting sick. Because, yes, people are getting sick and dying. It’s not just media hype. I know nurses and no, our hospitals aren’t empty. They’re fucking overflowing and we’re running out of material.

Next! I decided to read this author’s about section. Well, the jewels that I found were not exactly in their ‘about’ section, but close enough, on a similar page I found.

And oh myyyy, as George Takei would say. This person has an evil boner against SJW (social justice warriors who most often are just trying to make the world a better and safer and more inclusive space), and stories that ‘beat people over the head with message’.

Y’all, okay, but, WTF are you writing about if there’s no message or meaning? This author was part of a group of authors who wrote without ‘message’. Like, what, are you mad that we now have representation of minorities? Or the gender diversity? Get a reality check, dumbass, we’ve always been here, and always will be. We go all the way back to ANCIENT FUCKING EGYPT. Get over it yourself!

I just – I am so fucking mad. This dumbass not only believes that the virus is a ‘scam’, but that socialism is dumb, and that stories shouldn’t express values or have agendas. Y’all, stories have ALWAYS had agendas. The hunchback of Notre Dame? Written to save the fucking cathedral. People write for reasons, for meaning, and it is the meaning and message that gives the story value.

But this author probably has no idea about any of this because they’ve got their head up their ass. And they’ve got over a thousand little ‘yes-men’ bobbing along with them, agreeing with them. Keep your stupid-ass followers. Keep them far away from me. I’ll sit over here and hoard mine, who aren’t ass-hats.

I’m just so disappointed in this person, as an author and fellow human. I just – no. So mad. So so mad. Ugh.

Peace y’all, and don’t catch the stupid.

Chaos & Kuryo (novel 3) Chapter 7 Part 1

//// Trigger warning for violence!

Aaliyah

It had been several days, and things almost felt normal. Except they weren’t. There were three of us sitting in the living room and frankly, one of us was an evil twin.

Kuryo wasn’t just angry. He was menacing. Something about the way he moved just made everyone shrink away. It was probably the murderous intent in his eyes. So now we’d sat him down and neither me nor Jade knew how to say this but – “You’ve got to go,” I said sharply, glaring at him all while remembering that there was a baseball bat behind the couch. Kuryo was on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Something angry was in his eyes.

“I agree,” he said icily. “There’s no use sitting around here and waiting. We have to make our own solutions.”

Something about that gave me the chills. I nodded. “We can give you some clothes and food, and point you to the local homeless shelter.”

The corners of his lips twitched in amusement. A bad sign. Jade jiggled beside me. “Look, you can’t stay here-”

Kuryo rose to his feet. “Want a coffee?” and he strolled into the kitchen.

“Uh,” said Jade, her voice almost covering the sound of a knife being drawn from the wooden block. Shit. I was on my feet and had pulled out the baseball bat as Kuryo’s evil twin reappeared with a knife in hand. Jade was also up, but I seriously wondered what good we would be.

Kuryo pulled off his overshirt and laid it aside, as if making sure it wouldn’t get dirty. Not once did he put down the knife, or leave us with his eyes. “Don’t try and change my mind,” he said flatly. “It’s not going to work.”

“Why are you- what are you thinking?” burst Jade, stepping to the other side of the coffee table.

Kuryo’s eyes flicked from her to me. “Easy. I have to save Charr,” he said, so cold and calculated. “And that’s not going to happen if I stay here. Your idiot friend took my transporter, and now I’ve got no choice but to use other means.”

“Black magic?” hissed Jade between staccato breaths. “You’d do that?”

Crinkles appeared around his eyes in a fake smile. “I’ve been studying for years, so just shut up and roll over. It won’t hurt much.”

I threw the baseball bat at him. He ducked, lunging forward as I was mid-transformation into my dragon form. His eyes went wide Just before he reached me. Apparently he hadn’t realized that we were dragons, much less that I was a golden dragon.

But he was too fast. Crows are very agile, and his wings were out. Sharp pain sliced my torso, again and again. I was done for before I even hit my true form.

I crashed to the floor as Jade snatched him up in her jaws. Bad idea. I heard her shrieks as the world faded from me.

And then, sharply, everything was too clear. My golden body lying there in a puddle of blood. Jade writhing, blinded, as blood gushed from her wounds. Kuryo scraping himself up amongst the wreckage, one wing broken and limp and bloodied.

But he was victorious. His wounds were not enough to stop him from landing a final blow to poor Jade.

Then, there was only the sound of his breathing. He dropped to his knees between us, breathing heavily. He was splattered with blood, but when he lifted his head I saw he was determined. He didn’t regret a thing.

Anger burned in me as he positioned our bodies, cut out our hearts, and set fire to our manes in the middle of a circle of blood. As our manes turned to ash, flames erupted around him. He yelled in surprise, then gritted his teeth at the pain as slowly, bit by bit, he vanished away to another dimension.

Little bitch, I thought, you wait and see.

With a running jump I smashed through his circle and landed in the last of twirl of smoke from the ashes – tagging along on his stupid spell and vanishing along with him.

My Struggle with Anger and Sadism

So I’ve written the next scene for Chaos (it’s actually been written for a bit, but I’m due to publish it now) and I’m quite unhappy with it. I’m just asking myself that famous writer’s question (or maybe it’s not that famous) -> is this really how the story goes? Should I leave this in there? is it too X/Y/Z? Is it too ‘much’?

I think I’ll share it with you all, just for the sake of sharing. But, really, I’m maybe … ashamed of it?

For anyone who’s been following along with the Chaos story, you’ve seen Chaos having a masochistic side. But he also has a sadistic side, and that’s what we get to explore in the next few scenes. Sadism, sex, ah what fun (or not?) times.

I find this stuff really difficult to write about, because sadism was such a thing I struggled with in the past.

See, I used to struggle heavily with sadistic urges. I was told when I was young that one could become addicted to very angry outbursts because of the adrenaline they brought.  Is this true or not? I have no idea, and am sure that my google searching skills are not up to par. For all I know, it could be a fad terminology or it could not be. I really don’t know. What I do know is that when I was a teen, anger was a real problem to me that really did feel like a minor addiction, along with the urge to hurt other people.

What I mean is that I had this burning anger within that was always wanting to get out. I remember feeling like I was transforming into a demon on the inside, full of hate and anger that was so deep that it could not be fathomed.

The sadism was there too! Some days I just wanted to pick a fight (I mercifully never did) and other days I just wanted to hurt others. It just seemed like a good idea, like it would be the most rewarding thing ever, akin to a good chemical rush.

This was a real struggle for me. I quit activities (like martial arts, which I loved) because they fueled my anger. I semi-converted to Buddhism, vegetarianism, and refused to kill even flies in an attempt to control my anger and sadistic urges. It was a real struggle. Thankfully it did, in fact, get better. It is especially much better now since I am medicated, and even better now that I am transitioning!

But that portal to my inner demon is still there. I know that, on occasion, whenever it opens (and it is very rare now), there just seems to be a pit of demonic energy within me. I feel hatred like a rush, and sadism like a cocktail of ecstasy that is just so wrong but so powerful. When I’m experiencing this anger, this hatred, it feels unquenchable, unfathomable. There doesn’t even seem to be strong enough words to express it! And yet, when I am not in this ‘mode’, it seems so ridiculous, so hard to explain away. it really just feels like I have a demon sitting inside of me, like it’s no part of who I am, who I choose to be. Yet I know this must be an aspect of myself.

Strangely enough, meditating to connect with my ‘higher self’ really brings this anger out. Intense meditation brings me closer to this inner portal, to facing all of myself in a very dangerous way.

For anyone else out there struggling with this sort of anger issues, this is what really helped me: the little things.

Of course, I recommend reading actual Buddhist literature and not the watered-down esoteric stuff. But that’s what worked for me. Find something pacific and peaceful that brings you into what feels like a state of peace. From there, implement it in tiny doses all throughout your day. For me, not killing bugs was a huge step, because by doing so I was honoring even the tiniest little scrap of a being as worthy of life. This went against my profoundly racist and Holocaust-enforcing past and helped me practice the sanctity of all life, every day.

You don’t have to stop killing bugs or become vegetarian like I did (though I eat meat now, unfortunately). But find little things that reinforce your peaceful aspirations throughout the day. It could be reciting prayers of compassion, walking dogs from a shelter, almost literally anything that brings forth compassion and peace within you.

Build on these little things. If you do feel like meditating (and I advise caution when doing so!) do it for short periods of time, and perhaps try and do emotion-focused meditations. Take a break from uniting with your inner/higher self and all the esoteric stuff. In my case it just made things worse (maybe it won’t do that for you, but this is my two cents). Instead focus on reinforcing positive emotions. Little things like exhaling compassion, breathing in and out peace, can seem silly, but they reinforce the peaceful ‘wires’ in our brain/that emotions’ brain-patterns. You can ‘wire’ yourself to be more happy and peaceful.

If you have outbreaks of anger, forgive yourself, AND -> work on fixing any harm you caused when you were angry. Be responsible. Apologize, try and explain, and definitely acknowledge that you were wrong/hurting.

Finally, remember that anger is a secondary emotion. It is usually based off fear, hurt, jealousy, etc. Be honest with yourself and face these emotions. In my experience, facing these primary emotions usually helps me stop the anger.

I hope this will be helpful for some people, and sincerely wish you all the best if you are struggling with anger. I will try and do a more detailed self-help post about spirituality and anger later/another day, as this post is already plenty long.

I wish you all the best.

Grateful doesn’t mean Painless

I’ve had a shit day. Not that anything bad has happened, but that I’m exhausted emotionally from less than pleasant private things (thankfully nothing wrong in my own home, so don’t worry) that have brought me down to a point of exhaustion. I was barely able to do anything today, being so tired that I just wanted to cry.

Now, self pity isn’t the point of this post. I got myself feeling better and just a few minutes ago I was reflecting on it. My thought process went like this “oh I live in such a lovely home, shame on me for feeling bad when I live in such a nice place, I should be more grateful and maybe one day I’ll regret not being happy enough”. To which I did a double take.

Wait, what? Gratefulness does not erase pain, be it emotional or physical. Sure, your mindset can make things more palatable and you can have good coping mechanisms. But when I practice gratitude, I usually end up just feeling guilty. Oh, I am grateful, but I feel guilty for still being in pain when I have such lovely things.

Because here’s the thing -> stuff and situations won’t erase your mental illness. They can help, but to erase it completely? It would have to be nirvana in my opinion.

So yes, gratitude is great and all, but it won’t heal you. And being grateful is not the polar opposite of mental anguish. You can be both grateful and in pain, the two do not exclude each other.

So don’t think you’re not grateful enough because you’re in pain. Being in pain is not a sign you’re not grateful enough. Appreciate what you have, but don’t burden yourself with the concept that good mental habits (like gratefulness, positive thinking) means no mental illness. They’re not the same.

Cute cat to cheer up your day!

Don’t Blame the Whistleblower

Now I don’t want to name any fucking names or point any fingers but let me lay some shit out here for people to understand.

It is not the fault of the whistleblower that the shit happened.

It is not a dynamics of abuse and power-over when a healthy person points out a disabled person’s need for help.

It also is absolutely NOT normal to be unable to shower. CAN NOT shower is not equal to your desire to NOT WANT to shower. Capiche?

Normal exists. Functional exists. Being abnormal and dysfunctional is not criminal, but can be a sign of a need for help. Telling someone who is non-functional ‘well what is normal anyways?’ is a big kick in the metaphorical teeth.

You want to break down everything I’m ranting about? Let’s do that because I’m pissed enough to blow my energy on this.

It is not the fault of the whistleblower that the shit happened.

Let’s start with this one. It is not the fault of the whistleblower that the shit happened. Alright, let’s apply this in a mental illness context. Let’s just fuckin’ suppose that there’s someone out there who blows the whistle on someone’s mental health. In my case, my wife. She up and decided that I needed help because hey! It’s not normal to start crying when a fan blows on you. She realized I was in a state of crisis and blew the whistle. And what the fuck has happened since then? She’s been blamed for being the cause of my mental illness when all she’s done is trying to help. Because, point two!

It is not a dynamics of abuse and power-over when a healthy person points out a disabled person’s need for help.

Consider this: my wife constantly and tirelessly advocates for my needs and accommodations. She helps me set and respect my limits as well as try and make others respect them. But what do people think? That’s she’s trying to be an abusive person and gain power-over me in an abusive way. Now abusive relationships are no joke, but I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that the average abuser doesn’t combat daily to give resources to their abused partner. They won’t encourage them to visit with doctors, social workers, therapists, psychiatrists, and psychologists who, by the fuckin’ way, agree that this person needs help.

It also is absolutely NOT normal to be unable to shower. CAN NOT shower is not equal to your desire to NOT WANT to shower.

To paraphrase a doctor who gave me a stern speech, showering is the friggin’ basics. It’s called basic functioning. Being able to shower daily and do a normal care routine is the basics of functioning. Here’s a pro tip: if someone says they are struggling to cope with a daily shower routine, it means they’re on the very low end of functional. It does not mean they don’t WANT to shower, it means they mentally CAN’T. Not the same fucking thing, unless you fail at basic grammar and language. And if you try and downplay not being able to shower and basic self-care, I want to kick you. Just, so much.

Because here’s a thing. Normal exists. It’s a concept. Functional exists. It’s also a concept. And while we’re in concept-land, being a jerk also exists. It’s what I’m going to call you if you down-play someone’s difficulty at functioning. It’s what I’m going to call you if you try to philosophize away their need for help. Because really, that’s what this is all about.

Now, I know that I talk really big on my little blog soap-box. I know that in real person I’m rather timid and trying to practice having a voice and defending myself. So on behalf of all the other socially anxious people out there, just shut the fuck up and listen.

It’s not about you and your philosophical concepts of ‘normal’. It’s about mental illness existing in a concrete way, and requiring concrete help. And if you never shut up and listen, we won’t be able to communicate with you because it’s a two way street. For communication to happen, you have to actually listen.

Because I’ve been talking, and talking, and talking, to some people now for eight years and they still don’t accept that I’m disabled. They still refuse to accept that I have a real illness, despite all my diagnoses.  They blame my spouse. They blame me. They think it’s all made up.

I’m sick of it.  And you know what? I should do something about it. So tomorrow I’m going to talk with social workers at the local mental health clinic to come up with strategies to deal with these people in my life because out of self respect, I can’t let this keep happening.

And now I’m off to write fanfiction to blow some steam. Blessed be peoples. Take care.

Does No One Care?!

Alright, so I woke up today thinking it was going to be a restful day. And behold, here I am, sitting in the coldest room of my apartment (which is pretty cold) and angrily bashing away at my keyboard instead of luxuriating in a restful day.

Maybe my early morning anxiety attack was a preview of something all my fellow trans were waking up to.

Today was supposed to be such a restful day. Instead now I want to cry, and cry, and cry.

Not just because TRUMP IS MAYBE GOING TO STRIP AWAY TRANSGENDER RIGHTS but because …. no one is talking about it.

My social media feeds are silent. Filled with happy Samhain preparation stuff and witchy doo-dads.Where is the outrage? Where is the care?

No one seems to care. Sure, maybe we’ll get a funny quip on Stephen Colbert’s show. But will there be protests? Will there be any general motion to support us? Will we just be another drop in the metaphorical shit-bucket and NO ONE CARES?!

I keep repeating it, because yeah, I’m lucky. I’m a Canadian. I live in frenchified Quebec, land where things change slower than cold molasses in mid winter. But on a federal level? What if the sheer stupidity of the Trump motion wears off into Canada, and we have another dumb-fucked Trump as our next Prime Minister? I’m fucked. Yeah, fucked, in danger, and NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE.

Like, seriously, people? Do we just not matter enough to you? Are we just ‘too small’ and ‘noisy’ a minority? So it’s fun and all to watch RuPaul and watch drag queens and kings, but to support trans people is too much?

Where are the people knitting hats? Why no transgender hats? Why not call the bureaus now and give gory details about your periods to get them to stay away from our rights? No? Not for us? Fucking thank you.

And yeah, it’s pretty close to me because I can’t just be ‘it’s those other people out there’. It’s people I know that are supporting Trump. Close relatives who hoot and cheer his every action. So go fuck you all. You either help us fight this or you are not an ally. That’s it.

And maybe the history books won’t take notice and you’ll think it’s all blown over when it’s said and done, but we’ll remember. We’ll remember that when they came for us,you DID NOTHING.

Want to make me less pissed off? Talk about it. Write to your politicians and get other people to do it. Cause a fuckin’ stink. We’re humans too, you know! We deserve our rights! We get murdered enough now, don’t you think? Imagine what it’ll be like without any laws defending us!

Oh, and P.S.? All you ‘wiccan’ and ‘pagan’ and ‘love and lighters’ just go fuck straight off if you’re going to tell me to calm down. You worship peace and harmony and won’t help the people who, in many cultures, are symbols of divine power and channels? Just fuck off. Especially if you borrow from Native cultures, where the berdache were sometimes revered. Don’t worship us if you’re going to abandon us. Because what else is the balance between god and goddess in Wicca but transgender? And now you abandon us? Thanks.