• Category Archives Whatever
  • 12/10/2019

    Hello everyone. This is going to be a serious post. I know in my last post I was feeling pretty good, and looking forward to not being a dumb shit ass mentally ill mess. But a couple weekends ago, the shit flared up again. As always, stress is the trigger. What stressed me out was seeing some right-wing douchebag out in the wild, using my words and my thoughts about things that had happened to me involving Zoe as a way to dunk on the “SJW’s.” I know that I said that if anyone did end up doing that, it’s not my problem, and that’s true. That doesn’t mean, however, that I have to like it. Then, because I hate myself, I went down that particular rabbithole of alt-right misinterpretation. Let me tell you, it’s not cool or fun to see your abuse be ignored (and in a couple of cases, outright mocked), left to fester, and be reduced to a laughable right-wing conspiracy theory. Let’s be real here: what happened to all of us in that particular social circle was abuse. Just because I wasn’t physically assaulted doesn’t disqualify it from the term.

    Of course, this all leads to my brain being a fuck, and telling me horrible shit and making me relive older traumas and not having a good time. But during all of that shit, something did come up in my tortured introspection that I can’t ignore. I’m sure that by even bringing this up can make me seem like I’m ungrateful or selfish, but you know what? Fuck it, I’m going to be selfish. I spent nearly half a decade sticking up and standing up for people. At great personal cost, even monetary, at times. People dealing with harassment. People dealing with doxxing. People dealing with swatting. All these terrible things. But when it was my turn, when my head was laid on that chopping block, I did not get a fraction of the support that I gave and continue to give. When I was getting doxxed, or all the shit that went down with Randi and Zoe. Maybe because I wasn’t the perfect victim; I’m sure (mistakenly) yelling at Scott Benson last year was the equivalent of me taking a sawed-off shotgun to what remains of my credibility. But it’s still shitty. Not even a solidarity “like” on a social media post? Again, it’s something I’ve accepted, but I also don’t have to like that, either. I am resentful about this, full stop. Putting myself out there, and getting fucking nothing in return is fucked. And you all know it’s fucked.

    This next part may seem unrelated, but like every rambling post I make, it ties into a greater point. In addition to all of this shit that’s been happening, people- strangers, really, have been leaving some weird shit in my messages lately. Like, people I don’t know telling me about their day in my comments box, as if we’ve known each other our whole lives and not randos who follow me on Twitter. Real people, even, not some sophisticated bot. Getting weird ass questions at two in the morning about subjects I’ve literally never spoken about. It’s strange, it’s creepy, it annoys me. I’m getting tired of it. I guess I’ve put up with it for so long because I’ve been trying to be approachable; I didn’t want to be one of those people that comes across as intimidating. But now I’m starting to understand why people want to be intimidating.

    The reason for being so approachable is because of my mental health. The shit that I’ve got? Very isolating. The kind of shit that makes you think that you need to be alone for the rest of your life, keep people away because why would you want to expose anyone to your bullshit? Of course, that’s not healthy. You need a solid support network, because you are in no position to know what’s the right thing to do. So I tend to be open, whether it’s here or otherwise, about how I’m doing, because I know how much it sucks to feel alone. And obviously, that has not been good for me. It invites a lot of bad shit my way. It’s either going to be the tranny chasing creeps with no boundaries like I mentioned earlier, or my dedicated group of stalkers that like to keep tabs on everything I do and say “look at this faggot being insane lololololololol” and posting a picture of like a rage comic or something.

    All of this shit combined together has left me really feeling like, well, like shit. Like, opening myself up and showing vulnerability was clearly a bad idea that I ended up getting nothing out of. Or at least, no net gain to speak of, unless you count being left behind to eat shit and like it to be a positive. So it’s time to draw some boundaries. After this post (obviously), maybe don’t expect me to be so “out there.” Because, in doing all of this; the anti-gamergate bullshit and the mental health awareness bullshit, I ended up losing sight of who and what I really am.

    I am a simple person. I like to crack jokes. I like to make cool shit. I like to talk about cool shit like video games, and music, and anime, and pro wrestling. I like having fun with my friends, even it if means being up until sunrise, which is probably a bad idea at my age. I don’t like getting into fights. I don’t like being angry and holding grudges. I don’t like being a sad sack that could only aspire to be inspiration porn. Being able to live life on my own terms, with the people I love and care for is all I really want. Obviously, I lost sight of that a long time ago. I think setting these boundaries of keeping my private shit private, in addition to actually maybe sticking to my plan of being away from places that seemingly only exist to show you upsetting and distressing things, keeping to my own website, or to any forums/discord groups I’m in, will help me in the long run. At least here I can control what goes out, and what comes in. Hopefully this helps.


  • i guess this a call out post

    I had a bit of a meltdown today that led to me finally just outright saying this: Zoe Quinn is an abuser. They are a liar, a manipulator, a racist, a TERF, and just a generally shady person. A side effect of me getting mad is that I foolishly made a Twitter thread about this; the exact opposite of “getting a blog.” So I’m going to post about it here.

    Another problem is that I don’t have any hard proof. I used to have a series of private messages that would confirm a number of things I’ll be saying here. They disappeared when my previous Twitter account was mass reported to hell, and ultimately suspended, coincidentally, the last time I had planned on making my thoughts Zoe known. As a result, everything I’m going to say is now circumstantial. Whether you choose to believe me, I don’t really care. I’m not writing this because I want this to go viral, or because I am looking for internet clout, or some other stupid reason. I’m writing this because I am sick and tired. Sick and tired of having to keep all this private. Sick and tired of having to be looked at like I’m the asshole because I dared to say that the internet’s golden child is in fact, a shitty person.

    I’m also sick and tired of every alt-right scumbag coming out of the woodwork and thinking that it’s okay to put their metaphorical arm around my shoulder as though we’re friends. To have these nazis fucks talk to me like one of their own. Like, “Yeah man, I’m with you! She’s a whore who fucked a bunch of guys for good game reviews and literally killed the Night in the Woods guy! You know, Joe? Or Fred? Or whatever his name is. I’m obviously very torn up about this!” My problems with Zoe are actually real, and not some made up bullshit that came because some incel on Youtube was mad about the titties in Dead or Alive being slightly smaller.

    So let me get this all out of the way now: no, Zoe is not censoring your games. Zoe did not sleep around for positive reviews of Depression Quest. And no, Zoe is not at fault for Alec Howlowka’s suicide.

    Zoe did, however, exploit the labor of transgender women. Zoe did lie and convince us all that any backlash they got from “Punk Games” was out of jealousy and transphobia, not because it was a garbage article that tried downplaying the work that people of color had put in to pull the indie games scene out of the dark ages of Jonathan Blow and other interchangeable white men with bad politics who thought they were too cool for Halo, in favor of promoting the work of two alleged sex predators. They and their friends used a series of coincidences, misunderstandings, and a couple of actually shitty people’s actions to do this. I mean, hey, who’s going around calling me a retard over something I didn’t even write? Certainly not this group of people suddenly appearing all at once to tell me that I’m good, and trying to get me fired up at some community I had literally never heard of prior to all of this!

    And this is where the anger starts to kick in. I’m more angry at myself for this than anyone else. Because I let myself get lovebombed and ultimately be the shield for someone to escape any negative criticism that they’re a fucking racist asshole. I let myself be used. If you’ve never been in a situation that left you feeling exploited or betrayed, know that it fucking sucks. No matter what you do, or what anyone says, that guilt stays with you. It’s one thing to have a shitty friend, it’s another when you don’t realize that you’re being conditioned into becoming a cult member until it’s too late.

    Something I had been thoroughly convinced of by Zoe and friends for so long was that a game dev by the name of Soha El-Sabaawi had created a Twitter blocklist designed to target trans women who were fooled into believing Ian Miles Cheong when he was still pretending to be a leftist, pre-Witcher 3. Now, I’ll be real with you, here: I’m not entirely sure if that’s a lie or not. All I know is, I was told that she hated trans people, then we’re all suddenly getting blocked by people in games I’ve never heard of, let alone ever interacted with. Maybe she really did come up with the first trans-centered mass blocklist. Or, maybe it was all bullshit to hide Randi Harper creating her own “anti-Gamergate” list that, you guess it, targeted trans women first and foremost.

    But, I will say this, and give credit where it’s due: Soha and I, we’ll probably never be friends; too much shit has happened in the intervening years that I don’t see that as ever happening. However, she was dead fucking right in telling Zoe to fuck off all those years ago. I just wish I was smart enough to have realized that then.

    I was not a member of Crash Override. However, I’ve been friends with a number of people who were. Every single one of them, even the ones that don’t even like each other, all say the same thing: that they were promised to be paid to sift through people’s death threats, image spam of gore and child pornography, and given nothing. No money, no support when Breitbart and 8chan and Kiwi Farms all came knocking on their doors. No support when Zoe’s game industry peers were going around calling them pedophiles, nazi sympathizers, and abusers. Just a post on their private twitter that they were “glad to be rid of people I never want to talk to again.” I should have taken a screenshot of that. And while I was not involved with Crash Override, I can tell you that Zoe privately messaged me to let me know that they were the only “employee” involved with the project. Nobody else, not even their partner at the time, was involved. Just Zoe, tirelessly fighting online harassment using such brave methods as “telling people to change their email passwords.” Zoe also told me something else through these DM’s, which I’ll get to later.

    And by “later,” I mean “right now.” Zoe also lied to me about CO’s involvement with Randi Harper, and the shameless fraud that was the Online Abuse Prevention Initiative. There was NO association, I was told. They didn’t even like Randi! It was totally fucked up that she went off on some bigoted power trip, teaming up with message boards full of school shooters to dox trans women! Totally sucked that you got your own thread on Kiwi Farms because you told her and Wil Wheaton to go fuck themselves!

    Well, we know what the truth was:

    Yes, Zoe’s username is “Shrek.” We used to be on each others’ friends list.

    My personal info is posted online. I get an eyeful of society’s worst talking about wanting to kill me every day. I get to spend years worrying about whether or not the shit I’m dealing with will do any splash damage to the people in my life. I’ll spare you all the details of the full year I spent having a panic attack that one of my friends or partners would have to deal with their own doxxing thread.

    And someone who I thought was a friend is off playing a shitty video game with the person responsible.

    To say I was angry would be an understatement. I had spent the last couple months being told by my friends that they all got fucked over and ripped off doing Zoe’s “anti-abuse” work, and now here they are, rubbing their and my misfortune in our faces. Ironically enough, playing as a fucking healer, when all Zoe has done is hurt people. I let loose on Twitter, ranting and raving. Other people made their Medium posts about the shit they had dealt with (now deleted). And what happens next? Zoe lets everyone know not to “believe any conspiracy theories you may have heard,” and goes running off to everyone’s favorite transphobic sack of shit, Jesse Singal, to run defense.

    Do you know how insulting it is to see your face on that asshole’s timeline? To have it captioned, “these are the people who want to reignite Gamergate,” straight up telling people that I became a neo-nazi because I got tired of Zoe Quinn’s bullshit? The man has twenty something thousand followers, and, despite any degree of common sense, still gets work in a number of publications. That’s a lot of people who saw a synonym for “bigot” labeled under my face. Fuck that.

    And you know what? A problem with writing this? Why on Earth would you ever believe me, or anyone else who has come forward with their own horror stories? Like, who would you rather listen to: someone who, despite everything I’ve written, actually did and does deal with shitty harassment on a day-to-day basis, or a group of people that includes Ian Miles Cheong, Peter Coffin, a guy who was run offline after being outed a sex predator, and a group of autistic trans women who spent the last couple years getting into it with a community primarily made up of queer people of color? Of course you would go with the former! Why would you ever want to listen to me? I’m a white person who was utterly convinced that some Arab woman I’ve never met was some kind of anime supervillain with a grudge against anything outside the gender binary. There’s a paranoid part of me that thinks that was done by design. That we were all useful idiots for a con artist to make a few bucks. And now that Zoe got what they wanted, who gives a fuck? We’re all discredited. All people that you’ve been told never to believe or support. It’s perfect!

    It makes me fucking sick to see someone try to show me whatever pity party Zoe is throwing today. Like they’re not stable enough with their Marvel money and book sales, while everyone who got strung along and left to eat shit are still barely clinging to life, even four years later. You know who’s a victim? Sarah Nyberg. You know who’s a victim? Hazel Connor. You know who’s a victimizer? Zoe. I mean, yeah, I got left with PTSD and a complete inability to trust people and everyone thinks I’m a racist scumbag, but at least I didn’t lose my fucking home! I didn’t have ostensibly leftist people buy into right-wing horseshit that I’m a pedophile or a domestic abuser, despite demonstrable proof to the contrary, because someone with a platform refused to stick up for me because it was too inconvenient for their bank account. I got off fairly easily by comparison.

    We were all nothing more than people who wanted to do the right thing. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I can tell you that I got involved because I was tired of right-wing assholes in my backyard (that backyard being “video games”). I was working on a group project a month before GG kicked off. Half the team left, in fear that they would be a target because of their own marginalized status. That was the final straw for me. Nazi Gamers Fuck Off was my state of mind. I wanted to help people; to change things for the better. I also realized I was no longer a cis man, and I was looking for a place to belong. In the end, I got fucked over, and most of it is probably my fault. I don’t mean to turn this into my own pity party, but I do sincerely believe that it’s probably too late for me to actually make amends; to properly atone for hurting others. I said a lot of horrible things. I did a lot of petty shit that did me no favors. I know that I’ve said “sorry” on multiple occasions, but I don’t think that’s going to be good enough. And I don’t what will be good enough, if anything. That’s something I have to take responsibility for.

    But I can leave you all with this: Do Not Trust Zoe Quinn. Let me say this again, but in all-caps, for emphasis.

    DO NOT TRUST ZOE QUINN

    That will lead you down a path of pain and misery that you do not want to go down.

    Here’s the thing: I don’t want money, or an apology, or anything like that. All I want is my life back. A time where I lived in blissful ignorance; where I only knew the name “Zoe Quinn” because supergreatfriend played Depression Quest on his stream, and I didn’t watch it because Bully Demise and Undertaker (Retro) weren’t involved. A time where I wasn’t a fucking cult member who lost any sense in my head and became a pawn in someone else’s grudges and bigotries. I want the time where I was marginally happier back. Of course, I’ll never get that, and I’ll probably always be mad about that. Always be mad about the lies, the gaslighting, the endless heart emoji’s, the “I love you”‘s, and rhetoric about trans pride that meant nothing. It was all bullshit.

    Again, whether or not you believe me on this is up to you; I’m not really in any position to demand trust. I’m just making my feelings known, because I’m tired of having to relive it in my head, over and over.


  • get a blog

    Something I’ve been trying to push and get over for what seems like the last few years is a return to the days of Web 2.0. As it turns out, I’m actually a pretty big fan of a time where everyone had their own space to express their thoughts and showcase their talents and personality, without having to do so on the same three or four web sites run by nazi jerk offs that nobody likes to use.

    Realizing lo these many years that I really, really, really don’t like social media. I bang on about it a lot, but it’s true. Now, I can’t say that social media never did anything good for me; met a lot of my close friends, met my girlfriend, found a larger platform for my artwork and game development. But for all the good, there is so, so much more bad out there. A lot of heartbreak, a lot of betrayal, doxxing, lots of headaches and bullshit. Like yeah, without social media, I wouldn’t have as many friends, but I also wouldn’t have a 20+ page Kiwi Farms thread. I wouldn’t have a girlfriend, but I also wouldn’t be hated by a bunch of people I’ve never met because I was dumb enough to fall for a white woman’s tears when she got backlash over a shitty, racist-in-retrospect article.

    And on top of all that, I’m just tired, dude. I’m tired of the quote-tweeting, and the screen capping, of whatever stupid bigoted shit HitlerGamer69 said today. I realized way too late that being an independent watchdog does nothing for nobody. You’re not going to end white supremacy by sharing Richard Spencer’s Facebook posts and saying, “get a load of this guy!” I don’t care what transphobic shit was spouted by Graham Linehan, or Jesse Singal, or Ricky Gervais, or Meghan Murphy, or Leigh Alexander, or who the fuck ever. That shit fucks with my mental health, which we all already know is extremely fragile and tenuous to begin with. Doesn’t help that, despite my best efforts, I’m still stuck in that 2015 mindset of checking my timelines first thing in the morning, and hoping that I don’t find a fucking suicide note.

    So, why get a blog? Well, for one thing, I don’t have to see all that shit I mentioned up above. Another thing, it lets you say whatever you want, for as long as you want. Some of you motherfuckers out there like to use Twitter to write a whole damn essay. I don’t want to read theory or whatever in 180 character pieces. And you can put that whole thing down in a blog format, and you don’t have to worry about being interrupted by bad faith arguments mid-way through. They have to read the whole thing to give you shit first. No more of this “part 1/484” shit, put it all down at once.

    The great thing about having your own space on the Information Superhighway is that you can just post whatever the fuck you want, dude. Want to post a screenshot from Sonic Jam on the Sega Saturn, then follow up with a picture of a butt, with no rhyme or reason? Go for it! Hell, I’ll do it right now.

    yeah you’re welcome

    Post about games. Post about music. Post about food. Movies. Books. The local Chinese restaurant down the street from your apartment. Your latest haul from the thrift store. Design the look of the site to match your personal aesthetic if you want. It’s all about you, here! In a time where so much of the internet is consolidating to a rigid corporate structure, maintaining your own individuality is more important than ever.

    In creating your own space, you get to make the rules. You don’t have to worry about being mass reported and having your shit taken down. Unless you’re posting like child porn or trying to recruit people into the klan, in which case you should consider going offline and doing a Swanton Bomb off a very tall height into the nearest pile of broken glass. Fuck you. But yeah, otherwise, you don’t have to worry about terfs and The Gamers trying to silence you.

    I think the point I’m blindly groping for here is to just kick your feet up and have some goddamn fun on the internet. I can only imagine how tired the rest of you are at always being at someone’s throat, and vice versa.

    Now I’m going to post another song at the end of this entry, because fuck it, I can.

    maritime- parade of punk rock t-shirts

  • 11/1/2019

    Been a while since I’ve done a “life” post. Mostly been talking about games or getting mad at wrestling (update: the last several episodes of AEW Dynamite have been pretty sick, so I’m willing to forgive that egregious misstep on their first episode). So what the hell, let’s talk about me here.

    Almost a month ago, I officially became a sex worker! Nothing too exciting, I just work on a phone sex line. It’s been pretty alright. I’m not making enough for it to become a full-time job, but it’s a good source of additional income, and I can always use that. Plus I can always laugh at the really weird calls, and silently fist pump when people tell me I have an effeminate voice.

    I’m still away from home on business for two more weeks, and I’ve been going crazy. Not being able to work on my game or on any kind of cool art shit has been immensely frustrating, doubly so because there are people who support me via Patreon to do that shit, which I have not been able to do since goddamn September. It sucks. I’ve been trying to find other creative outlets I can do from here, like trying to do some writing, but I have immense writer’s block that comes from the realization that I have not written anything that wasn’t a blog or a video game article or a Twine story in about a decade now. In fact, I found that last piece of writing a while back, during a conversation with Maddy about poetry. I wrote a bad poem about, you guess it, outer space:

    It’s dark outside.

    This cold, terrible blackness seems to stretch on for eternity.

    No sign of light.

    No sign of life.

    No sound.

    No movement.

    A huge weight lifted off of me, I float about this darkness with awe and fear in my heart.

    Then they pull me back to reality.

    Come in Major. Come in.

    Sorry, Ground Control, but I’d rather stay up here.

    Yeah, it wasn’t great. Probably why I haven’t done anything like that since. But I need to do something creative soon before I completely lose my mind.

    And hey, speaking of my mind, my last subject for tonight. I’ve been doing a lot of internal fighting with my shitty ass bipolar head recently. Like, I think anyone who knows me knows that I was I spent the last few years in a really bad, messy, confusing situation where myself and entire communities were played against each other by some bad actors and led to stupid in-fighting that went on for way too fucking long and probably could have been nipped in the bud if we realized that things were all a misunderstanding, and if certain people with platforms used them responsibly, instead of egging everyone on like a bunch of gay paranoid Pokemon. Trying to get past all those bad feelings; those trust issues, the bad shit, the constant social media sniping, all that crap, has been really hard. I’ve been going through this pattern of feeling pretty good, having some hope that I won’t be emotionally trapped in the past. Then someone will say something or something will happen and it causes me to spiral my ass all the way back to square one. That sucks. But the last couple of weeks? Barring like one day, it’s been a lot better.

    Maybe it’s the sobriety finally taking effect (14 months on the 7th). Or losing contact with people who would encourage my bad, self-destructive mental habits. Or being forced to sit alone, annoyed by my own thoughts until I finally had enough. Or a combination of all of those things. But whatever the case, I just got fucking tired of the anger and the bitterness. I’m forcing myself to close the book on that part of my life.

    I’m pretty sure I’ve said this like a hundred times on here, but I need to reiterate it for myself because I clearly did not get it until now: I’ve spent so much time fighting. Having this mindset of needing to take a side in everything. Not looking at the bigger picture. The bigger picture is that I have people in my life that I care about, and vice versa (I hope). I don’t need to focus on anything outside of that circle. Is that maybe a privileged view, ignoring anything outside of my immediate vicinity? Yeah, probably. But I don’t care. I’ve finally decided that it’s a privilege that I’m going to use. Like, I could go on Twitter and take some potshots at someone who claims to be a trans activist, but does nothing but harm to her fellow trans women, OR, I could be happy and proud as fuck that my friend’s first album is coming out soon. I could see whatever dumb ass shit Jesse Singal said today, OR, I could sit back, remember that my girlfriend is kicking her addiction problems’ ass as hard as I am, and be over the moon with joy about that. It’s fucked that it’s taken me 33 years to realize this, but why have I been so focused on things that upset me, when I could have focused on all the good? I mean, I know the answer: I’m mentally ill. But I think you understand what I’m getting at here. I don’t always have my good days, but I need to remember all the beauty that I have in my life, instead of trying to die by a thousand cuts. I can’t let that darkness win.

    Oh right, I should post a song before I hit “publish.”

    “eagle’s nest” by caroline smith and the good night sleeps

  • let’s look at my old hard drive

    Can’t remember the reason why, but about a decade ago, I bought an external hard drive from my old job. It’s a 500 GB deal that needs a wall outlet in addition to a USB connection. It’s old, dusty, and it stopped working once, but has since been running just as good as when I bought it.

    I decided to take a look at it recently. I’ve been doing a lot of moving around and not being home due to work reasons, so it’s been fun to go through the past ten years of memories, and see what I kept on here. It’s mostly music, old games, and porn. But there’s some other stuff that I made or saved that I feel like sharing.

    Here’s an old animated sprite I made of myself. I used to have this really sweet jacket that was black, with red stripes down the sleeves. And on the back was this cool drawing of the X-Men. Sadly, I no longer have that jacket.

    And here’s a terrible photo I took of when I was front row at a My Bloody Valentine reunion show. To date myself, this was taken with a flip phone. The iPhone was nothing more than a Steve Jobs fever dream at this point. The show was awesome, by the way, even if I got beer spilled all over me by an over zealous security guard who absolutely needed to shove his way past me, despite being in a wide open space he could have easily navigated without making contact with anyone. The opening acts were terrible too, and probably no longer around.

    I’ve been getting back into Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup lately, and I have some older versions of the game on here, back when “Sludge Elf” was a species you could be. Kind of fucked up that they were removed since, though. I mean, they are called “Sludge Elves.” That is so fucking aesthetic!

    This picture of me at a college party back in 2006. I never actually went to college, but I did go to a lot of their parties.

    Surviving screenshots of projects/games I started and never finished. And yeah, the term “Lonely Frontier” was something I came up with late one night, working on a text adventure about outer space that I don’t think ever made it past that one passage. I would start things, get stumped on either a technical or creative aspect, and then stop making things. That’s how I was in those days. Still kind of am today.

    Here’s some music. I’ll post some songs, no rhyme or reason to them. Just stuff that’s good, and that I listened to on repeat night after night in those days.

    kaela kimura- ground control
    beirut- postcards from italy
    motoro faam- and surface runoff
    jens lekman- maple leaves

    That’s pretty much it. Like I said, it’s otherwise images I saved for no real reason, roms, and such. Plus a few other things that I have a slight emotional connection to that would make absolutely no sense if I posted them. But hey, hope you liked that tour down memory lane. I’ll try to post more often now that I’m not stuck in places with bad internet.


  • ramona’s mad at wrestling

    Last night was the first episode of All Elite Wrestling’s television show, Wednesday Night Dynamite. Pretty much everyone in my social circles knew how pumped I was for this show. I was excited because holy shit, there was a reason to care about wrestling again. I quit watching WWE well over a year ago due to a combination of the Trump shit, the Saudi Arabia shit, and the JBL-Mauro Ranallo shit. And I don’t really have the time or the money to keep tabs on New Japan, as much as I would like to. So now here’s this new company, full of good wrestlers I like, going out of their way to appeal to people like me, having a new TV show on TNT, which hasn’t aired wrestling since 2001.

    I was pumped for this match in particular:

    Riho vs Nyla Rose to crown the first ever AEW Women’s champion. Now the deal with Nyla, if you weren’t already aware, is that Nyla Rose is a Native American transgender woman. While I may not be Native (I am extremely white), I am a trans woman, so you better believe I was ready to cheer my fucking lungs out for her. Plus, the booking gave me every reason to believe she would win: AEW has spent the past year going out of their way to court an LGBT audience, hiring Sonny Kiss, an openly gay Black man, in addition to Nyla. Cody Rhodes constantly saying “wrestling is for everybody,” banning Vince Russo, a homophobic wrestling writer, from their events, in addition to removing fans that chant queer/transphobic shit during their events. Cody and the Young Bucks may as well have broken through my TV glass and grabbed by the collar and yelled “we want you, specifically, Ramona, to watch this television show!”

    So I did. And it was a really great show! Then the semi-main event for the Women’s title was gearing up, and I was gearing up. I was ready to fucking run around the house, cheering and yelling and annoying the shit out of everybody with my enthusiasm. I was ready to see Nyla kick some ass.

    And then…she lost.

    To say my energy was sapped and the air was taking out of me would be an understatement. I was crushed. I was angry. AEW had worked me into a shoot, brother. The main event of Dynamite may as well have been Cody Rhodes emptying a bag of money into a garbage can, and setting it on fire.

    This wasn’t some Daniel Bryan “the guy I like lost” bullshit. Nyla not only lost, but was booked like a fucking fool the whole time. Why would you try to use a steel chair in full view of the referee, knowing that this is not a no-disqualification match, and that you will lose if you hit Riho with the chair? The entire match, she keeps pulling out chairs from under the ring, Fire Pro style, while the commentators keep asking “why is she doing this?” Nevermind the fact that Nyla outweighs Riho by almost 100 pounds, and could simply use her size instead of relying on a weapon. Why is Nyla going for a Senton Bomb to the outside of the ring? What I was told last night was not that Nyla Rose couldn’t get the job done against Riho because Riho was the better opponent, it was that Nyla Rose could not get the job done against Riho because she is a fucking moron. But hey, thanks for the ratings, queers! We might consider telling Jim Ross to quit making snide “she’s not being man-handled, she’s being woman-handled” remarks next time!

    I turned the show off after that. I didn’t care anymore.

    Like, you spend a year appealing to the LGBT wrestling fans. You book Nyla to win a women’s battle royale from the #1 spot. You keep wink-wink-nudge-nudge promoting the women’s match as “history in the making,” which is definitely not meant to be taken as a loaded statement. Riho doesn’t even work for AEW full-time! You all but said “Nyla Rose will be our first women’s champion.” And while they may have banned Vince Russo from their shows, it’s clear they didn’t ban his booking philosophy with that ridiculous swerve. Great representation, to watch someone just like you compete in the big leagues, then look like a total jabroni and literally fall flat on their ass. Great representation to see Nyla get punked out by Kenny Omega, a man who kayfabes his sexuality worse than Dolph Ziggler kayfabes his politics.

    I was originally going to have a section here about the people who have told me that Nyla “isn’t ready yet, brother” or how she’s suddenly a bad wrestler who botches all her moves in ways Sin Cara can only imagine. I won’t entertain that shit. It’s all cis white dudes saying that anyway, and it’s just another example of the wrestling double standard where even if Nyla was the drizzling shits in the ring, what would set her apart from the staggering number of shitty white guys who couldn’t work to save their lives winning titles and main eventing shows? What’s the difference between this hypothetical sloppy Nyla and like, Ryback? Like, I’m as big a CM Punk as you’ll ever meet, but I won’t pretend for a second that he didn’t have quite possibly the worst elbow drop in the history of the business, or that his career defining match at Money in the Bank 2011 didn’t have him falling over and fucking up constantly. Well, nevermind, I guess I did entertain that shit.

    I’m mad about this. I really am. I understand that it’s asinine to care about a TV show, but like, I want to like AEW. I want to support AEW. I’m not here on my blog complaining because I hate the company and want to see it burn and end up in Vince McMahon’s tape library. But fuck me, man, you can’t spend all this time and money to reach out to a leftist queer audience, then pull the rug out from under everyone like that. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the idea of Nyla Rose losing matches; I don’t think she should have a Goldberg-like undefeated streak or anything like that. Everyone has to lose some time. But this match was the big one. This was your first impression to a massive audience, the chance to set yourself apart from the competition, your chance to put your best foot forward, and you fucking stepped on everyone’s Nikes. Will I be watching the show again next week? I don’t know yet.


  • 8/6/2019

    I was looking forward to making a happier post this time. I completed two major projects, and I took the weekend off to try and recharge. And it was a good time; played a lot of games, watched a lot of movies, listened to a lot of music, recorded a new podcast episode. I had a good weekend.

    But then Monday happened.

    You probably saw the news: yet another mass shooting by someone who posted yet another manifesto on 8chan. More public pressure put onto Cloudflare, a service that basically protects sites like 8chan and Kiwi Farms from any consequences of the harm they do, to drop 8chan once and for all. And surprisingly, they did. Probably because they’re about to go public in September, and being connected to horrible massacres doesn’t exactly lead to success on the stock market. Cool. Great. Awesome. Anything that makes it harder for white supremacists to recruit people into their ranks is a good thing.

    No, that’s all well and good. The problem I have lies with all of the people hot dogging and grandstanding over its demise, despite harrassing the people who accurately predicted the kind of shit that would happen if places like this kept going unchecked, calling them “fake allies,” “performative activists,” “pedophiles,” and all sorts of other heinous shit designed to minimize any work they were trying to do to de-platform the alt-right. The same people who literally screamed as loud as they could for people to “stop talking about Gamergate” and to “pay attention to the real issues” while trans women’s home addresses appeared on the site every other day, and while Milo Yiannopoulos was publicly complaining that his upcoming hitpiece on Sarah Nyberg had been delayed yet again because the legal team told him that it somehow managed to be too libelous for Breitbart are coming out with their hot takes that “Gamergate never ended” and “I told you so!”

    And then there’s this:

    This was the final straw for me. Randi Harper, the very same Randi Harper who went running, tears in her eyes and her tail between her legs, to places like r/kotakuinaction and Kiwi Farms, getting myself and several other people (mostly trans) doxxed, harassed, and stalked for years because we exposed her massive transphobia. Her support of people sending us death threats. Her “anti-nazi” blocklist that actually targets every trans woman on Twitter. Randi Harper and Wil Wheaton teamed up to make social media even more of a cesspool for the marginalized. And when there was pushback, she went to a group of school shooters to get everyone off her back. And now she wants to act like nothing ever happened.

    I know that there are a lot of people out there who don’t like me. I know that you think I’m an asshole, a scumbag, a no-good piece of shit, or some other synonym I’m using to pad out this sentence. And you’re probably right on that. But I am not a liar.

    I have no reason to lie. I have nothing to gain, but everything to lose by doing so, because the truth will always come out in the end. Have I been misled in the past? Absolutely! But I do not lie.

    I am beyond sick and tired of being told my life, and my experiences, never actually happened. I have gone just about my entire life being called a liar. I was “lying” about Randi Harper. I was “lying” when it came to light that Zoe Quinn fucked over everyone involved with Crash Override. I was “lying” when I reported the abuse I went through as a child to my school counselor. I’m “lying” about everything. This fucking bullshit gaslighting to try and fail to convince me that the things me and several friends went through was all a big crock of shit; an invention of my own imagination. So many people with a fear of heights on top of the proverbial mountain will go to great lengths to tell you that we’re all liars. There are people who lead chapters of the DSA that will spread this misinformation.

    Being told time and time again that this

    never happened

    all a bunch

    of bullshit

    figment of my imagination

    all to take down the real victims of Gamergate in a fit of jealousy

    lying about everything

    telling tall tales to get myself over, brother

    my only motivation!

    No other reason!

    Being involved with “anti-Gamergate” was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made in my fucking life. Unless your name is Alex, Sarah, or Allison, you were not worth the effort. You were not worth all the people who put their reputations and their literal safety at risk to support your selfish, ungrateful, transphobic asses. Not Randi Harper. Not Zoe Quinn. Not Brianna Wu. Not Leigh Alexander. Not a single one of you are worth the shit from a dog’s ass. So many people tried to do the right thing, because Fuck Nazis, and in the end, got demonized and cast out of their respective communities while you all got rewarded for it. I wish I had access to a time machine, so I can go back to August 2014, slap my past self in the face, tell that dumb motherfucker to keep your head down and mouth shut, and keep working on that King’s Field project. It’s not worth the headache, and to get dragged into petty slapfights with people I’ll never meet, and be looked at as a pariah because I felt bad for a shitty woman who makes terrible games and has even worse taste in men. Without trans women to do the work for her, it’s pretty obvious that she has no talent. I mean, why else did you only buy one issue of Goddess Mode?

    Am I mad? Yeah. Am I bitter? You better fucking believe it, pal! A bunch of fucking con artists and grifters picked a fight with neo-nazis to further their brands, and when they got what they wanted, they told the rest of us to fuck off, and fend for ourselves when the alt-right came knocking on our doors. So many good people were unfairly harmed by this, and the world is on fire, too. Great job, everyone!

    And to all you fucking jackoffs coming out of the woodwork thinking it’s okay to talk about 8chan and Gamergate in 2019, like you pieces of shit didn’t harass my friends nearly to death for doing the same thing at a time when that shit could have been shut down without a bunch of massacres having to occur first: if you don’t bring up all the trans people who got hurt from all this shit, and instead focusing on the cis grifters, guess what? Your Medium thinkpiece is bad, and you should feel bad.

    Or maybe just take your own fucking advice

    But I guess it’s a “real issue” now because “real” people are dead, and not those gross trannies making a joke out of your gender roles, right?

    Fuck off. Leave me alone. I have one month left until I’ve finally reached a full year of sobriety, and I don’t need this bullshit to test my resolve.


  • 7/27/2019

    I want to talk about something that happened a couple days ago that really upset me. Something that caused me to break my recent vow of “no discourse.” Actually, I want to talk about multiple things that, at first, seem like disparate topics, but all tie together in the end.

    I want to talk about “callout culture.”

    I’m going to begin by talking about some things that happened four years ago. A lifetime ago by internet standards, but it feels like yesterday when you see how the people affected are doing now.

    We all know who Ian Miles Cheong is, right? Screencaps of whatever dumb, racist shit he’s said today has undoubtedly appeared on your social media feeds at least twelve times in the last hour. He’s probably the third most dunkable man on Twitter, right behind Elon Musk and Donald Trump. An unsavory character, for sure. But he wasn’t always that way. There was a time where he, at the very least, pretended that he wasn’t a bigoted asshole. And a lot of people on varying degrees of the left believed him. They trusted him, liked him, considered him a friend. Hell, he managed to kayfabe his way in to Crash Override, back when that was also pretending to not be a total sham. Then a games writer suggested that there should be more Black people in The Witcher 3 and he was like, “fuck this, I’m going back to the right-wing!” and now he’s the reactionary writer we all know and dislike.

    Now, what does this have to do with callout culture? Well, remember how I said that there were people that trusted him before he did his Mr. Burns “change of heart, then quickly change back” deal? He made a Twitter post during his “SJW” phase, more or less calling a games personality an asshole that people were afraid to piss off. Said personality then proceeded to prove him right by waiting a month or two after his big heel turn, posting a list of everyone who liked that post, and telling her audience that these were people who “are holding down women of color in games.” Almost every person on that list was a transgender woman. That detail will be important later.

    These women all ended up being targeted for harassment. One of these woman I wrote about before: smeared as a nazi sympathizer and an abuser, who would ultimately be abused by her own wife, before getting kicked out of their home in the dead of Winter, because she liked a tweet. Let me reiterate: a trans woman with a physical disability and a heart condition was left in a situation where she could have conceivably died, because of an internet post made by someone else. A cisgender man in Malaysia does something fucked up, and the blame is laid at the feet of a trans woman in Canada.

    Here’s another one. Remember “The Allyzone?” A guy at Amazon makes a bad Twitter post while the rest of us are all in bed, and it leads to this years-long mess of bullshit that targets everyone but the guy who coined that term in the first place? Around the same time, there was a trans woman who was making her name keeping tabs on the actions of hate groups, in an attempt to prove that it wasn’t all a bunch of edgy teens trolling each other on 4chan. But because she was mutual Twitter followers with the guy, suddenly she’s now a “performative activist” and a “bad queer ally.” And on top of that, Milo Yiannopoulos called you a pedophile, and he’s a man that has never lied about anything! Again, a cis man does something wrong, and a trans woman on the opposite end of the country gets labeled a pedophile (despite there being physical proof to the contrary).

    That is two women, who I am friends with, who had their lives completely torn apart because of things that they didn’t even do. Because of tweets! Do you understand how fucking stupid the term “tweet” is? It brings me actual, physical pain to say or to type. You may as well jam some bamboo shoots under my fingernails every time I have to say “tweet” in an attempt to illustrate how fucked it is that innocent people got destroyed because they were in the fallout range of an internet callout. If you ever wanted to know why I felt that the indie games scene was a transphobic joke for years, and why I still sometimes bristle at the use of the term “AltGames,” now you know.

    Now let me bring things to the current day. A popular musician was the subject of a callout because she once talked to and associated with another musician who turned out to be a sexual predator. Not because she herself did anything wrong, but because she knew someone who did. And she’s not the only one; a lot of us were willing to believe this person when they claimed their innocence. Hell, I did.

    This woman, a CSA survivor, was accused of being a facilitator of child abuse because she had a tangential connection to an actual abuser. Now, speaking as someone who was also molested as a child, that is probably one of the worst things you can to say to someone like that, maybe second only to “you deserved it.” Unsurprisingly, she ended up having a massive panic attack as a result.

    This is why I hate the concept of the callout: not because I have an insatiable appetite for racism and child pornography and would like to see the providers of such left alone, but because the shit doesn’t work. It never hurts the actual target, and utterly annihilates those on the sidelines. IMC still makes his living as a reactionary writer. Izzy Galvez still works for Amazon*. 4lung is still a popular musician. Hell, you can straight up admit to attempted rape, disappear for a few months, then reemerge with Macaulay Caulkin and Kenny Omega promoting your latest work. My friend’s shitty ex-wife? Fairly big name in the field of video games preservation; you’ve probably played one of the games she saved. A number of you follow her online. Hell, one of you even went to her house a few weeks ago to watch movies and play video games. I’m not about to write a big callout post accusing you all of supporting wife beating. The attempt at no-platforming never hits the mark. It always misses, and hits some unrelated, innocent person, instead. It’s not a coincidence so many people who are cast away tend to be trans, queer, and flat broke. Abusers are still not only still around, but actively thriving. Again, the shit doesn’t work.

    *I understand that it’s a bit fucked up to put “said a dumb thing on the internet” in the same category as “being a nazi” and “admitting to being a ‘minor-attracted person’ on your private Twitter,” but I think you understand what I’m trying to get across here. You’re mad at him, but you’re going to take your anger out of someone in the periphery.

    Another thing about all of this that gets to me, is how many people attempt to convince you that a person is bad based on screencaps they pulled from Kiwi Farms. Hell, a person that I’m told is a fairly prominent queer voice even outright said that “Kiwi Farms has a use.” Bullshit. Kiwi Farms does not have a use. It has never had a use, and it will never have a use. It is a website that once had a thread on its front page titled, “How to make trannies kill themselves.” I could go into all the heinous, criminal shit that they get up to, but I’ll simply say this: Kiwi Farms is populated by a group of rocket scientists that think I’m into bestiality because I said “dicks out for Harambe.” It’s not “problematic” for anyone, let alone a trans person, to discount anything they say.

    And there are those that would say that despite all the terrible things they do, Kiwi Farms has targeted people who turned out to be predators themselves. Basically saying that all the innocent people who have been doxxed, harassed, and stalked for years on end for reasons ranging from “being an outspoken activist” to “saying ‘Abolish ICE’ a few too many times” are expendable, because one or two of them might be bad. These people, who we have already established are being targeted until they commit suicide, are an acceptable loss. You are saying that I am an acceptable loss.

    Let me respond as such: Fuck you. I am nobody’s acceptable loss.

    To see my fellow transes use this place as a source is pretty fucking depressing, honestly. Though, by now, I should not be surprised. We like to assume that the people who do this are mostly anonymous 16-year olds with K-Pop avatars. And that’s mostly true, but there’s a lot of people doing this shit that are in their 20s, even their 30s. Like, you’re adults! Grow up!

    This all brings me to my point: I have given up on trying to endear myself to a community. Trying to do that is what got me dragged into all this bullshit in the first place. Too much toxic bullshit. Too much stupid discourse. And honestly? It’s all because of one thing: everyone is terrified of pissing off cis people. That’s pretty much it. Allyship is a fucking joke, and we work a lot better for them as a concept, not as actual people. When they are reminded that we have thoughts and feelings, and that we shit and fuck like they do, that’s a problem. You want proof of that? Look how they sided with Mike Cernovich, the Gamergate Cum Lawyer, over Chelsea Goddamn Manning. How often does The Discourse revolve around sex? Kink at Pride. Offbeat fetishes being likened to pedophilia, even if children aren’t involved (anyone else remember that poor woman who got harassed for the Nier Automata Force-Femme fanfic she wrote for Waypoint?). How dare you call yourself a bisexual lesbian! It’s fucking stupid. And it muddies the waters when actual predators infiltrate our spaces, claiming that them jacking it to kids is the same as someone in their mid-20s putting something up their butt on their webcam.

    My advice to you is this: be trashy. Be problematic. Be yourself. Because guess what? Even if you do your best to keep your head down, your mouth shut, and your pants on, all it takes is you laughing at the wrong joke and you’re fucked, dude. You will be judged, hated, even doxxed at your most benign, so you might as well go out of your way to make terrible people uncomfortable.

    I’ve given up on community. I simply wish to exist as my own person, making the art I want, and chilling out, having a good time not having to worry about upsetting some faceless “influencer” with delusions of adequacy. And if you would like to come with me on this wild ride, feel free to do so. I wish to be there for my friends and loved ones, because they are what’s important. Not some hashtag and staying on the good side of some asshole I’ll never even meet.

    And another reason why I’ve given up on community is because I am so tired of seeing these childish, saccharine calls for unity. We have to stick together, ya’ll! There are actual nazis out there, and we need to fight them!

    Fuck off.

    I do not wish to stand side-by-side with rapists, pedophiles, domestic abusers, white supremacists, gamergate supporters, neoliberals, centrist assimilationists who condemn Chelsea Manning while putting over Contrapoints like she’s the result of Marcia P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera doing the Fusion Dance, jackoffs using Kiwi Farms and Breitbart to harm other trans women, or anyone else that would willingly harm me. And you shouldn’t either! Be there for the people you care about; the ones that won’t leave you on the whims of someone who still thinks this is 2012 Tumblr. That’s what matters.


  • 7/13/2019

    A couple of things before I launch into this proper: one, I had to remake my Twitter account not too long ago. Long story short: old one was getting hit by constant mass reporting by The Gamers, and I was tired of being suspended constantly, so you can find me over here now.

    Two, someone made fan art for one of my Mario Maker levels! It’s really cool!

    This week was a pretty rough one, involving me grappling with my terrible mental health. So naturally, because I’m not so loaded that I can do bourgeois things like “take medication” or “seek therapy,” I figured I would write about it.

    The thing about being Bipolar is that you are constantly being assailed by this voice in your head. A voice that will helpfully remind you at every turn how worthless you are; that you don’t have any talent, your friends don’t actually like you, everyone is out to get you. You are kept on a diet of paranoid ideas. When I’m having a bad time, that’s when the voice gets louder, until it finally provokes a response where it feels like I’m being taken over by every negative emotion at once. I get depressed, often times to the point of deleting everything I’ve ever made, or talking about detransitioning, and even suicidal ideation. I get mad; wanting to punch a hole in the wall (which I can’t do because I have tiny girly arms) or scream at someone I don’t like. I want to give in to every self-destructive impulse, and drive away everyone I care about because Fuck Them, They Don’t Like Me Anyway.

    I feel guilty and embarrassed every single time this happens. How could I let myself lose control like that? Especially over a catalyst that’s either so painfully minuscule, or completely non-existent. My emotional state reduces me to that of a Heath Ledger Joker roleplay account. And even though I mostly managed to keep my last outburst to myself, I still feel like shit for even thinking that way. “Fuck other people, they’re all assholes and I don’t fucking need them!” “They’re never around when I need them!” “I really wish they would stop lying about liking me or liking my work when it’s obvious that they don’t!” And all this other shit that I know isn’t actually true. What kind of selfish asshole am I? I get frustrated when some of my art does low numbers, and my stupid ass blames everyone else for not sharing it enough, despite the fact that I don’t have a large audience, due to a lot of my own words and actions, and how even if I did, it’s still so easy to get lost in the always-updated timeline of social media. Expecting people who are busy with their own lives to monitor my every move, as though the world revolves around me. It’s stupid and unrealistic and what the hell is wrong with me and so on.

    Or the opposite happens: something I make gets popular, and I get all sorts of wonderful positive reviews and compliments, and I can’t accept them. I know where all of my mistakes and flaws are, this wasn’t my best, and on top of that, I’m the worthless jerk-off who made it, so what kind of fucking asshole would sit there and say otherwise? That’s the fucked up part: I can never be happy. Either I make something that has a low “engagement,” and I get mad that it’s not more popular (not really for money reasons; more due to a massive amount of childhood trauma that’s too long to get into here), or I make something everyone loves, and I get mad that nobody is honest enough to tear it apart like it deserves. Like I deserve. I opened this post with that Mario fanart, and I’m of two minds. The first part is being really happy that someone liked something of mine so much that they drew a picture to show it. The other part of me is second guessing everything. I don’t deserve that kind of adulation. What’s this person’s game? Is this a joke?

    Now, looking at this logically, it’s fucking stupid. There is no way a Japanese woman on a pseudonymous video game comments section, who I will most likely never meet or speak to at any point in my life, took time out of her life to draw a picture of something I worked on just to fuck with me. There are potentially millions of people on the Mario Maker server, someone singling me out of all those people is fucking ludicrous. But when you’re sick, you aren’t thinking logically.

    There was a documentary released last year called Bipolar Rock n’ Roller. It follows Mauro Ranallo, a sports announcer, as he does his job while struggling with Bipolar and anxiety. There’s a scene where he’s in a hotel room after calling this major fight. He’s looking at Twitter on his phone, reading all the positive comments fans are giving him for the job he did. Mauro responds by throwing his phone down on the desk, taking his glasses off, and just saying “fuck off.” Because he knows all the mistakes he made that night, and all the small ways he thinks he fucked up. Who would praise that?

    Like I said, it’s very hard to be happy, even when you have every reason to be.

    Last year, there was an incident. I was working on a project with my friend Gabi. One of the worst kept secrets in the world is how much I care about and for her. I’d rather fucking crawl through broken glass than do anything to hurt her. Anyways. We were working on this game, and I was doing the graphics. The project called for all of the enemy sprites to have a special keyframe where they were at a 45 degree angle. Now, when you’re working with an image that’s 16 x 16 pixels, you can’t just click “rotate” in Photoshop and call it good. You’re left with an indecipherable blob. So you have to redraw everything, which doesn’t sound that difficult! I had no problem doing them at their regular angles. But for whatever reason, I could not redraw these characters in a way that didn’t look terrible. And I started getting that frustration-driven cloud forming over me again. I wasn’t mad the project. I certainly wasn’t mad at Gabi. I was mad at myself, because I couldn’t do something that seemed so fucking simple, and I was letting everyone down. And Gabi sensed it, trying to calm me down, telling me that what I done was perfectly fine, but I wasn’t really hearing it that night. And that froze my heart in place. Because I realized that, holy shit, I had shown someone I care about my “dark side.” That thing I try to keep hidden as best I can (at least, in a 1-on-1 setting; my old social media feeds are a different story). And it wasn’t even me at my worst. I wasn’t yelling, or being a dumbshit edgelord, I was just having a hard time and not being able to deal with it like a non-crazy person. The last thing I want to do is have that part of me exposed to someone that should never have to see that. Now, I’m all but certain she’s completely forgotten about this (or at least, until she reads about here), but I still feel guilty about it even now.

    The part that really scares me about all of this, and why I brought up that old incident, is because I don’t know what the “real me” is. Am I the easy-going idiot who plays too many video games and wants nothing more than a quiet life with my friends? Or am I the angry, bitter, selfish piece of shit that yells and wants to get into fights because I’m self-destructive and it’s a good way to disguise the fact there is nobody on this planet I hate more than myself? I don’t know. And it’s hard, but I’m trying really hard to make that first description the “real me” some day.

    I can’t let that other side win. It’s a constant battle, one that I feel like surrendering to sometimes. But there are a lot of people who have stuck with me, despite multiple reasons why they shouldn’t, and I guess I owe it to them to try, even if I don’t always feel like doing it for myself. My fucked up brain has actually been pretty alright today, which is why I’m able to write this now, and I would like for that to keep happening. But there’s no guarantee. It’s not an enemy attack, or a natural disaster, The Bad Times can come back without warning, or reason. But I promise I’ll keep trying.


  • 6/20/2019

    Hi everyone. I’ve been meaning to make a blog post for the last few weeks. But bad brain things and painful memories all happened, and I didn’t feel like writing a long-form post mid-meltdown. Now that things have stabilized a bit, let’s fucking do this.

    There’s no real point to this post. Felt like doing another “say shit for the sake of saying it” thing. I got done doing some house sitting for the past week, and during that time, I finished not one, but two Zelda games. Zelda is a series that I’ve slept on for most of my life, as I grew up so ardently pro-Sega that I felt they were inferior to faster paced, less linear games in the same vein, like Beyond Oasis or Ys. In recent years, I’ve found that actually, no, they’re really good! The only downside is that they fall victim to the dreaded “I put the game down for a short time, then forgot what I was supposed to do when I picked it back up, so I’m going to have to start all over” syndrome. So while I’ve played and enjoyed the hell of out Zelda, I uh, haven’t finished that many of them. Before this, the only game under my belt was The Minish Cap. But I persevered, and beat both Breath of the Wild (though not at 100% completion), and the first Legend of Zelda.

    I’d like to eventually get done with Link’s Awakening (probably end up waiting for the remake) and Majora’s Mask. Because I feel like a poser, calling those my favorites in the series, when I haven’t even finished them!

    That’s pretty much about it. Now that I’m back home, I’ve resumed working on my game, which is coming along nicely, and hopefully will get a new demo out soon. So look forward to that.

    Hold on, there’s not enough stuff here. I’m going to post a song too.

    “I Hate Camera” by The Bird and The Bee

    Until next time, take it easy, folks!