Problematic

So, I'm going to generalize a complaint about generalizing for a sec, because I just looked in the mirror. Here goes: transwomen and drag queens have this tendency to talk frankly about "passing" and how hard it can be for them sometimes with all their manly-man body hair and facial hair. This complaint is like, inadvertently throwing shade at my 5 o'clock shadow that totally does not need the help. I need some lightening cream, ladies, leave me alone. It's just silly fun that we're all hurting each other all the time. If I put a wig on and forget to do my eyebrows I am definitely going to be confused for someone in drag. Well, probably not. I have a pretty soft face, I might pass. Although, like, honestly, I don't know if I do identify as "a woman" or even want to- but I know that's what people immediately identify me as and that even though I biologically am, I don't really fit the standard because of my lack of care. I guess my point i...

I think it might have rained. There were pools of water on the road that I don't remember being there when I left. I'm a firm believer that if you are going to do something you should commit to it. Subsequently, I do very little because I have real commitment issues. This is probably the extent of what I am willing to commit to, and that is probably not great. I've been wondering, based on the differences in views on several posts, if I title some things better than others, or if somehow the system is counting when someone accidentally clicks on the tab they left open with my half-read post up as a new view every time the person forgets to close it on their phone. I can also commit to cats. Cats and blogging. Although, I really haven't ever committed to a theme to this, so I wonder if that really counts? I guess, if we had to attach a real theme in order to categorize it would probably be a slice of life blog about a girl unable to commit to her own sense of menta...

If you want to feel really weak, I would recommend stress-induced vomiting. It's a spectacular phenomenon. Vomiting, in general, is great because it's your body's way of telling you you are full of poison. Like when you've had 5 too many shots of vodka and your body is just, "Hey, wait- dude- do you know what this is? Like, we're going to die...I gotta get this out of here" and you throw up all over the stall of a bar you can never go back to, because it was 7pm and they're definitely going to remember you. But then you stress vomit. When someone has just been telling you that you live worse than a homeless person and you can't get a job because you physically look incapable. Your body gets the message that a bunch of little sad synapses are going off. Too many. Too fast. For too long. And then you have to leave so you can find a safe space to hide the embarrassment of needing to throw up because your feelings are hurt. I used to stress-vomit a l...

It feels like ages since I've written something for you. I finally stopped sleeping with the light of the television on. Then I woke coughing and saw the kitten, in the darkness, looking into her room from the hall. Now there is no amount of light on the shores of the conscious that will make me feel safe to sleep. I've been sitting in the dim off-white glow of my dining room/bedroom anticipating my murder. It's been about 12 minutes. It was warm when I woke up. The chill of exhaustion is once more wrapping around, but I can't shut my eyes comfortably. Whatever is hiding in the other rooms will come for me. I don't think I can fight. I suppose, I patently know I have not been tested in this way, so it is unlikely I would be skilled at it. Every few weeks the issue of hand-to-hand combat pops into my head, but I haven't had the money or time to go about really training for apocalyptic scenarios. Or assassinations that seem entirely baseless. I guess there...