6

Well Then, God is a Shitty Author

cracks knuckles

So, I was looking in the archives and realized that in the ~5 years I’ve been blogging here, I’ve only mentioned courting like, 4 times (swear it feels like more though), and it’s such a huge part of my story….but also an intensely emotional and painful one, which is why it’s referenced but never really talked about. This is going to change. Probably. Maybe. If I can stick it out long enough to finish it. My locally crafted whiskey and moonshine may be coming in handy for what will most likely become a series – so I can’t promise the best writing ever (which, actually isn’t something I ever promise), but, I think it’s time.


We met at TeenPact National Convention, but we’d followed each other’s blogs before that. He was SmartHomeschool and I was Politically InCorrect. We and a handful of other people were first timer’s at the camp and everyone else we knew had run off to hang with their already established friends, and as we wandered, we kept running into each other and finding a handful of other loners at random times to make our group more TPA. We called ourselves The Magnets, because, we just sort of all ended up at the same place at the same time, snacking on skittles and starbursts.

The Magnets 1.0
We had *all* the homeschool moms concerned about us.

 

Alex, I will have you know (the tall one in the middle FYI – I only look appropriately scaled because I’m 12″ in front of the dudes. IRL I was shoulder height to them), was a tough cookie to crack. Super shy and awkward, I made a point to open up his little clam-shell-self that week, because I just REALLY wanted to know what was inside his brain. Which sounds weird, but I’ve never really felt that much curiosity for anyone else. Plus he was cute to boot, but I would never have admitted it. boops baby alex’s nose SO I MARRIED HIM. THE END.

Just kidding.

If only it were that simple camp love story.

Anyway, back to reality.

Alex was a cool person, we became fast friends, not just because we were more or less stuck together for a week, but he was thoughtful and smart, and interesting to talk to. He argued with me when no one else would, and didn’t just take whatever I said and leave it. We were equal. Which is sort of an unheard-of dynamic in our circles. When we went back home, we would spend hours every night IMing each other about everything under the sun. We had a lot in common, and we had a lot not in common. Eventually he brought me on the board of the magazine he started with some other homeschoolers and everyone basically started shipping us immediately.

We, of course, didn’t see it. We were friends, best friends, equals, that’s it. Everything we knew about marital relationships involved whatever sex was and submission (and not the fun kind), so, we went about our lives as best friends.

Alex came to visit me for my graduation party the week before TeenPact National Convention 2007, and that was when things started changing.

That visit was intense for reasons that actually have nothing to do with Alex and everything to do with my extremely pregnant mother.

It was that trip that Alex learned things weren’t sunshine and rainbows with my family. The day or two before National Convention, my parents sat me down upstairs and started yelling at me about laundry and shirking my responsibilities (Alex, who had been staying in my room while I camped with my sisters, heard everything from the basement). I came downstairs in tears to do the laundry they had exploded about – really the whole thing was a miscommunication, as was…..well, usual. I hadn’t done the laundry because I had to take a shower, mom had told me to do both without specifying the order, but then I had to make dinner and get the kids to bed and do all her other work, so I was going to get to the laundry, but apparently I hadn’t done it fast enough, or enough of it.

I got downstairs to the laundry which was adjacent to my room, and I just collapsed into a pile of tears. I forgot Alex was there and he came over and I tried to brush it off like everything was fine. I think I told him I deserved the verbal abuse my parents had just thrown at me, loudly, for an hour. I sat there and took it and apologized to them. I apologized to him for crying in front of him, and told me it was okay (to cry). He helped me with the laundry (he actually attempted to help me with all of my chores that week, but as soon as mom noticed she’d give me more shit to do), and was just there. I….never had anyone do that before. I always tried to never cry, because my mom told me crying was weak and would get me made fun of. Alex didn’t make fun of me, he was just present and calm and…helpful.

Anyway his visit with my family was full of shit like that happening, it wasn’t really awesome and I felt really bad about it, but then we went to camp again and I got to escape it for a while, even if camp was full of religious guilt that just reinforced that my parents were right about me.

TPNC 2007
Oh yes, The Reb pose. Very edgy. WE WERE ALMOST TOUCHING.

After he went back to Maine, and the life of being a mother resumed for me, things just….I felt halved. I powered through one of the most intense pregnancies my mom had ever had, probably the most intense actually, because she had an emergency c-section after having essentially a one-month long contraction. I had slept everywhere but my room for a large part of June (NC was end of may), including often the floor or a couch upstairs so my parents could wake me to man the house if mom went into labor.

But that’s another story. Anyway, time to myself after that was really scarce, I would be up until 2am because the only time I could talk to Alex was after everyone else had gone to bed and most of it involved him trying to tell me I wasn’t loosing my mind because of everything that was happening.

rewind When we were saying our goodbyes at camp, he told me to look under the coffee cup full of Reece’s in my room (his graduation present to me. Seriously, best. ever.) so that was, naturally, the first thing I did when I got home. He’d written me a letter that…reading it now, basically just said I love you for two pages, but at the time mostly was just the most validating thing I’d ever heard and desperately needed. That I wasn’t a horrible sister, that I was really strong, that what my parents were asking of me was insane and I didn’t deserve to be treated poorly.

I miss you” was said with all the weight and meaning of “I love you” when it’s said for the first time.

blah blah blah pregnancy, june, july, GenJ camp, CPS visit, all other stories….September.

Alex and I had written each other letters by hand over the summer because it was fun and….I don’t remember why we started, but anyway, he was heading off to college in the fall and I was worried he’d fall off the planet and I’d be alone without anyone I could talk to about life who would really understand. All naturally platonic, stupid shit, jokes; we were basically pen pals who were madly in love with each other and refused to acknowledge it (but secretly hoped).

So one day in September, out of the blue, Alex’s dad calls my dad, and asks what his answer would be if Alex asked him for permission to court me.

And so it began.

 

0

Wield it Wisely

Free speech is important, vital, even, and should be protected, yet does not serve as a buffer or shield from criticism. Just because you are free to say something doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for the words you speak or write. The pen is mightier than the sword. We can say so much, so much more powerfully with ink and lines than we can in other ways, which is why it’s important to remember than when we choose pens as our weapons, as creators, we are more dangerous and more powerful than we realize. While doodles and letters put together in sentences and satire don’t physically harm anyone, we are making a difference (however small, however subtle) and we are either moving society forward or protecting the status quo. We are dismantling society, or perpetuating oppression, or maybe we do some of both because we’re human. We are communicating on a level that surpasses the conscious and meets people in their souls. When we are cruel, and racist, homophobic, or misogynistic, that still matters, it still affects people, it still hurts.

We should never be afraid to create, to say what we feel needs to be said. But we need to know, we need to be aware, that our words, our drawings, our art is powerful. That’s why so many people try to destroy it, so many people try to hide from it, and if we really want to, we can make the world a better, more equal, represented, and understanding place with it.

The pen is mightier than the sword, wield it wisely.

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0

It’s Okay To Be Sporadic

I feel like my year just exploded with a bunch of different things, and in a way, it did, I’ve added a lot more personal projects – including hardcore game development, which is going to involve a lot of learning C#, unity, and javascript, and how to build 3D worlds….and, it’s not a light undertaking. Also, 5 comics, two ruby apps/sites, moar livestreams for kierygeek, and writing, oh yeah, and moving.

So, Monday was the first day back into life again from taking a two week vacation (in which we gamed 90% of the time and it rocked) and I feel so disoriented. I knew it was coming, it always does, and it’s good, and by next week I’ll be fine again, but I’m realizing, as I have all these things I’m super excited about doing – that I’m also overwhelmed.

Moving is taking up a huge chunk of my brain space, if not practical space, and it’s only going to become more so as we get closer to our lease ending, so as I was trying to sort out my life on paper earlier, I realized that it’s going to be sporadic for at least the near future, and it’s okay to be sporadic.

The only things I know for sure will be happening consistently is Humorotica and Matt & Kiery Vs. SAO, and that’s okay (also, Humorotica has a patreon and it would be so rad if  you checked it out).

As much as I want to be consistently updating and progressing all my projects, at this point, I need to make sure I can keep myself sane.

My weight has been fluctuating a lot lately, and it’s starting to bother me in a way it never used to before. I need to center and be okay with myself in my body, whatever it is. I don’t really know how or have the words to talk about it yet, but it’s not fun. My headspace hasn’t been overly awesome, but the awfulness doesn’t last so, I just need to….be able to be okay.

Long story short, my life is going to be sporadic for a while, between projects, moving, and mental health, and that’s perfectly okay.

0

Things: an update

I have two very much needed weeks off. Well, one, now, but still. It’s weird, I crammed a lot into November and the first half of December and I’m emotionally drained and exhausted, but it’s been good?

I did the Ludum Dare and learned how to build a playable game (that’s still fun) in unity, in -48 hours.

I wrote some intense things that I finally had half-cohrent words for.

The organization I helped found turned one, and has grown so much in the last year, I don’t even.

I talked to some people about my life a few times.

Christmas happened.

It feels weird not to be trying to get in to the zone again, but it’s good, because I’m not ready. Right now I still need to hole up and play WoW (because I got the expansion for christmas) and keep my people happy in Godus.

And now I’m looking back at the world and the brink of 2015 – seeing Mara before I move, apartment hunting, traveling cross-country with my fluffbucket, fish, and spouse. Wondering if the world will ever get better and hoping beyond reason that it does, even though at the moment I want nothing more than to escape.

This week’s selfcare looks like: changing my pronouns to reflect my identity on places where I talk about myself in 3rd person, using my longhorns giftcard, getting some cute things at VS, making brownies, playing games, sleeping late, being comfy, and trying not to work too hard or get stuck in brain loops stressing about moving.

Probably also drawing with ink, just for me.

We’ll be back with our irregularly scheduled programming in 2015.

 

0

Tell Me Why The World Is Fucked

2014 has been intense shit.

I’m alone for a little while, and realizing how small I am.

There’s only so much I can do.

Before the need to attend to my psyche over powers my ability to be useful to the world.

And that’s okay. I’m trying to accept that.

I don’t have to be on all the time.

I can’t be on all the time.

But it doesn’t stop the world from feeling like it’s crumbling before me.

And I’m powerless to stop it.

So I try to make things that people who are stronger than I

can come to for a respite, a break, a moment of calm before facing the storm again.

That’s what I do right now, or try to anyway.

 

But tell me why the world is fucked

and if I can do something to fix it.

I’ll join the fight outside

leave the support station behind

and raise my sword by your side.

 

Tell me that the world is fucked

and that you need a break

I’ll give you a hug

and some chocolate in a mug

and let you rest and wait.