Hi Hi Y’all
As promised, here is the next flood of updates for the fan fiction/ web novels on the site.
Orginal artwork from the amazon @Eymbeeyo will be on that series page soon!
Hi Hi Y’all
As promised, here is the next flood of updates for the fan fiction/ web novels on the site.
Orginal artwork from the amazon @Eymbeeyo will be on that series page soon!
Hi Hi Y’all,
I know more and more I talk about chronic illness. It’s not meant to just be a purge, a kvetch or a notice for recognition. Lately, my flare up have just been getting worse and longer. All the advice doctors gave and the awkward hard to explain moments just seem worse. More then ever, I am just tired. So very tired…
A friend of mine is coming up to visit me in April and I am so excited to have someone see where I go to University and be an understanding friend. I had been debating when ( and more importantly) where to get a back tattoo I have always wanted.
When I was a kid I was obsessed with Yakuza movies, samurai movies and ronin movies. I loved the traditional colorful tattoos on them and the values that seemed to come with them. As I got older, learned more about what it meant and how it was perceived I didn’t want such a large piece anymore. For awhile, I thought about abandoning the idea completely.
Then I got my diagnosis and I started to reconsider. What eventually solidified the desire to get the tattoo was this increasing problems. My drugs are increasing and surgeries that seemed far off seem sooner and sooner. More and more I feel like I am missing out and that I’ll miss out on things even more in the future. Weighed down by everything around me and having it all be unseen is taking a bigger toll on me. I can do less then I used to at the moment and no one really sees it or understands it. More and more I have to come to terms with being seen by the average person as a ‘disappointment’.
It’s these things that make me stop caring about some of the things I used to. If I feel like life is short and changing so much for me I have to at least do the things I enjoy? A giant back tattoo or some crazy visual representation of all my problems probably won’t do much for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stick to aesthetic and feel as if I did something to show it.
My back has two curves and a tiny hump on my neck. At the top of my spine there are signs of bones thinning and possibly going to fade away. As you got to the bottom of my spine fusing has started, my hips are out of place and my legs are now two different lengths. None of this can be seen or understood unless I give up and say I want to walk around like Quasimodo so people notice me. That is always going to be the reality of my back. Anything from now on won’t be seen.
I like small minuscule and thin lined tattoos. Normally, I don’t want color and just want simple black. I’ve known since I was small I would want tattoos that represented ideas that meant a lot to me in life. Knowing this it isn’t hard for me to know what sort of tattoo I’d get on my back.
At the top of my neck, I would want in thin black lines Vegvisir. Vegvisir is one of the most popular Nordic charms. It wishes for the person to never lose their way in storm and bad weather even if the path is unknown. I don’t think there is anything more symbolic of everything going on then that. However, there is one more reason. My great grandma’s mother was a Swedish Orphan. She had come to the U.K. and met a Spanish Jew. They married and moved to the U.S. Apparently, unlike her husband and the efforts she put into now being Jewish and raising Jewish kids she never gave up her belief system. She was very very very Christian. I’m talking crosses and bloody Jesus pictures everywhere sort of Christian. Yet, there was one thing that my great grandma remembered seeing even when she didn’t know the name of it until I told her: Vegvisir. In a legacy where only food and some old myths managed to be passed down, my great grandma could vaguely in her dying times remember seeing Vegvisir as a child. Now how could I argue with that? Jewish or not, my great grandma read me Nordic myths as I was growing up, joked how if it was true Odin was 100% cooler than Zeus, and how we were meant to be tough because it was just in our blood. I’m traveling rough waters right now and maybe that means it isn’t just about being Jewish, but remembering all beliefs that helped create me.
Underneath Vegvisir is the real highlight though. Running in small thin lines will be the I Ching and its 64 changes. For a person of my aesthetic and weirdness (and love for Asian culture) what is better then 64 line patterns each symbolizing a different part of early understanding and divination? Nothing. Seriously, nothing at all. My life is certainly one of change and phases, of fortunes and dis-fortunes, and of joy and sadness. These line patterns will follow the crooked path my spine takes all the way to my tailbone. Maybe it will seem funny to some, but to me it’s a little part of the truth. And when these inevitable surgeries come, the scars appear on my back and the fight through new types of pain begins, I have marks of it all. Little lines that exist as part of scars and as part of the journey.
Going through all of this has taught me that living behind a mask is no longer something I’ll really be good at again. My body demands of me the truth. It demands that I grow past the angry cynical jaded girl I was when I was young and try to find the joy of life. It tells me that it will not tolerate lies and will only tolerate truth.
Don’t I have to do it then?
P.S. Odin really is way better. Norse > Greek everyday <3
Hi Hi Y’all,
I wanted to take a moment to mention something a bit serious again. I have someone I know in University who just came out as going to a counseling session for drug use. Now, just because I go to a top notch university like McGill doesn’t mean the people who attend it are robots immune to the problems. I had known of this person as someone who was pretty straight laced A type student back in their first year of University. Thinking of this person as someone who was going to sessions about a drug problem was shocking to me. They always had it together. They said it started with taking ritalin to stay up and study for exams. From there it went to sleeping pills to then fall asleep and then to other drugs for fun or other things. I’m not going to talk about their story past this. It is their journey and story. However, I am going to talk about the issue as a whole, because my attitude towards it has changed a lot over the years.
I mention it all the time, but I am from a conservative family. Growing up, my family wasn’t big on medication. If you really felt like you needed something just take Tylenol would be enough to tide over the problem. This led me to have two different reactions to the idea of drugs as a child. The first was I thought that people who relied on them or took them were weak and sort of pathetic. The second was me wishing I could take them. Sometimes, as a kid I would try to exaggerate the problem I was having in hopes of care or recognition. I would be sent to school with fevers or colds without a second thought. Part of me felt like if they gave me medicine it would be the same as recognition of it. However, this part was buried down because people who used drugs were weak. I was not expected to be weak. I was the kid everyone pinned their hopes on and had to succeed.
I kept this up for many years. It was a problem I could push away and not have to deal with. Then in high school I started feeling on well more. More people I knew were starting to use drugs for either medicinal purposes or recreational ones. The line between drug use and an individual seemed to get grayer. The idea of a lot of family problems occurring because no one in my family wanted to be responsible and take the medication they should be on became clearer. Still, I pushed this problem away as much as I could.
However, once again in University I was forced to confront this. I had gotten sick. I had entered into a world of chronic pain. No matter how much pain I was in I would actually tell some of my doctors I refused to take certain medications. My own mother had started getting sick about a year before me and was now taking from my family’s point of view lots of medication. Specifically, she seemed reliant on pain medication. The idea of being like that scared me more then it conflicted with my views. What if I started taking pain medication, became reliant on it, dealt with horrible side effects and allowed myself to be weak. I couldn’t allow that, so for three years I avoided some medication I should of been on and only took stronger versions of anti-inflammatory. However, there comes a time where you have to admit that isn’t enough.
When that time came for me I was scared. My fear of failure and all my other problems seemed to load on top of it as if I now had to carry another boulder on my back. I can’t say I am 100% okay with it all yet. I can say that now I can make jokes about it and remind myself I am on medication I need.
However, the biggest change is when I hear about someone like this. I don’t look down on them like I used to. I guess, even if I still think they are weak, a part of me can understand how it came to be. I think I can empathize with them a bit and maybe one day I can grow past my fear of weakness.
Hi Hi Y’all,
I just wanted to share one of my favorite new poems that will appear in my COMING OUT SOON poetry book, Confessions of a Teenage Poet. The book is a collection of things I’ve written in earlier school years and shows the feelings I kept hidden from a lot of people around me. I think this poem does a great job at showing the underlying feelings I had from moving to high school to university. Some of these feelings I think still are there, but buried under new fears and anxieties.
The Pink Hotel
It’s four a.m. and the crowd twitches,
Built up nerve born from youth
seeking to run free.
“Let us go for a walk.
We are paying for the view.”
A silent ride down.
I walk ahead,
Lost in thoughts,
Drowning in my twenty four hour soda.
I look ahead.
There are low scattered fountains,
Large and tiled with Spanish flowers.
In the darkness, I see light.
So much light is reflected
In waves of eerie hues.
Another match is burnt away.
“Dammit it won’t light.”
What was it, ten matches?
All to light his first cigar.
I don’t know why he kept trying.
I continue to walk away
To a farther fountain,
Where grass is still gentle,
To collapse in dewy golf turf.
I look to see a snake, none.
The pink hotel is a tower,
Looming in the sky above me.
Endless, reaching heights
I could never reach even reach
Laying eager on my back.
Why is there no stars,
Just a black sky?
A lonely Mercury
out of reach of Venus,
light up the seemingly black oblivion.
One cares to find me,
Upset at the foolish antics of youth.
“Are you ok?”
I smile and admit his thought was right.
I had lied on a truth question.
He looked away
And soon the two others
Reappeared with a slow burning
Rolled bark of success.
“Want to walk?”
I nodded and got up,
Running ahead of the
I was always ahead,
Never next to anyone.
Not much is seen,
But a lonely palm tree
Framing Venus’ Lone arms,
And a single fish darting
Between lighted Angel mirrors.
There is another fountain.
I jump to the highest peak
And look down at my youth.
I open my mouth to say,
“When you were Polonius is this how you felt?”
The guy holding the cigar laughs,
“Never my dear.”
I shake my head and point
at the cigar he holds far from him.
“To thine own self be true.”
They laugh and keep walking,
Remarks on wealth and status.
We were so young, so eager
To make an image of ourselves-
An image we didn’t really understand.
I walk back to the room,
Another silent ride in the elevator.
Quietly I slip inside.
I’m hungry for something new.
Why did I choose this pink hotel?
Here Ya Go,
I know it seems like talk about my family issues a lot, but if you know everything that’s not really the case. I talk about surface issues and some of the intense feelings that have built up. I think now I’m ready to shed some light on one of the intense non-talked about issues my family faces.
To sum up the background context, people died and money fights began. It became the battle of the super wealthy and the middle class. Mental Health issues and rotten personalities blew up the situation and it became years worth of drama and attacks. Family members chose sides and refused to acknowledge the other. This has gone on still to this day. It has accumulated all of the experiences together so it can form the dramatic climax of all the shitty buildup.
At the moment, the wealthy 1% has succeeded at clawing every last drop of $$$ he can from every situation. Even now, the scum lord seems to be fighting a will of a deceased person to take $$$ left to other people in the family for no other reason than stupid feelings of anger, envy and greed. It is a situation were I find myself no longer able to try and see its side of things and remember we are family. It is a situation where I remember what its actions had done to the family of the past. How its actions rippled into painful memories for me.
I am enraged. I want to be like a character in a movie and burn it all away. However, this is reality. My mother will return to earth and realize that she cannot have these spending habits on the salary of a preschool teacher. My grandparents who continuously face financial struggles must not only support the rest of the family more, but deal with the emotional burden of the scum lord’s claws. My aunt must deal with the fact the scum lord is no longer family and does not want her to have money for her young child. My cousin can only grow up without any happy memories of family due to its influence.
While, I can only see it as an insult to everything we grew up with. Yes, I have a shite ton of problems with my family. However, we were raised, they were raised, in tradition and culture. Family is never abandoned and forgotten. Family is the heart of a home. How dare the scum lord and its people trash such ideals for such pathetic reasons. Scum. Trash. Someone who need a fiction stories amount of karma retribution.
I also needed time to grow. I needed the financial help from my family to afford school and housing. Have you forgotten how many people fucked over by your greed?
It is no longer my family. It no longer will have moments to be understood. It has made my grandparents burden worse, my aunt sad, my cousin missing of a possibility and my chronically ill mother need to give more than her body can give.
I pray for karma to seek the retribution it deserves. I pray for my family and our resolve.
Hi HI Y’all,
I guess I’m starting to step back into what I was doing and aiming to do. My medications were out for over two week and that plus school/family stress turned into an ugly pool of suffering. I mean I basically had my phone off as much as possible and tried to sleep through it as much as possible. BUT, my new medication refill has arrived and the dim light has returned at the end of the tunnel. I am reminded that I have wonderful and caring people in my life. I am reminded that everyone, including me, has a potential and the ability to grow. I am reminded that I too am alive and moving slowly towards a goal. That being said I was wondering what to do or talk about since rejoining the living and breathing society… I decided on D&D.
If you follow anything of mine I am pretty sure you know I love the games- D&D in particular. I was wondering if one day in the future I would add some sort of page with related content on it or have a cool podcast of the sort with it. However, I can’t just start that and jump into it/. Instead, I’d like to just introduce some of the characters I’ve used lately (some of their images and who drew them will be on my Instagram if you wish to see).
Current Main: Glasha – 1/2 Orc Druid with a Pet Spider named Muk
Recent One Shot: Paisley – Gnome Sorcerer that takes a bit of everything and is chaotic evil(ish)
Soon To Be 2nd Campaign Of The Season: Tecumseh – Feral High Elf Ranger with a pet Panther named Pandaros
Hardest Play: Mercy a.k.a Sheriff – a Tiefling warlock with a pair of twin pistols and a bounty on her head
The Begrudgingly Non-Magic Character: Layla Alyndra Van Morgoon – an Aasimar descendant noble fighter
The One Time Only: Zale – the Aarkocra Bard that couldn’t fly because flight rules get annoying…and so was role playing a bard
The Genderbend: Aurwun Kinstalked – the fallen aasimar monk with a sketchy past and a loner disposition
As you can see, I prefer playing non-humans and things with magic. Mostly because HELLO, IN FANTASY WE CAN FINALLY HAVE THIS! Also, I love to play Chaotic Neutral and Lawful Good annoys the SHITE out of me.
However, you can play whatever you want in D&D. That’s part of the beauty of it. If you are a seasoned player or someone interested in learning you can always hit me up here or on Twitter about playing a game. Seriously, I pretty much will always have time for D&D. It heals the soul.
OH, also…I updated the RWBY Fan Fic page. I promise to actually return, fix up and add to some of the older Fan Fiction. It isn’t fair for me to keep all of it trapped in my own head.
Hi Hi Y’all…
Returning home is always a tough battle for me, so I think I need to express my feelings through some pretty bad poetry. It is an example of some of the longer more thought provoking poetry in one of the next works I’m editing: Confessions Of A Teenage Poet. Don’t worry though, the book is a mix bag of dark, humorous and some just plain silly.
My Mother Is Abusive
My mother is abusive-
it’s not her fault.
She never intended to be-
Life just had environments
My mother reminds me of pain-
And shame, rejection and rage.
She never intended to-
That I’m sure of,
But that’s how it’s been.
My mother doesn’t see-
I think we live in two realities.
She never meant to say the words,
But natural reactions come out
And the damage is done.
My mother once walked in-
On me being molested.
She never asked me what happened,
What was happening,
But she asked them.
It was natural
For me to be the ‘wrong’.
She intended to say
I was shameful
And embarrassing for her.
When I told my mom
About the rapes
The first response was-
“It’s not my fault.”
“You never said anything.”
When my health declined
And I had to learn
How to be disabled
I was over dramatic and excuseful.
Her pain was real.
When I gained weight
I was truly failed.
She wanted me to feel shame
For not being what the world ‘intended’
Or what she did.
My mother often says
That growing up
Means changing everything
About me and what I want.
I mourn in silence.
I don’t think
Se’s a bad person.
I think she has so much
Love in her heart.
But it’s a heavy pain.
My mother is abusive-
Because she has helped
Me form these scars.
I Love You, Mom.
Sometimes I think life is a balancing act. But not the neat kind you see in movies, tvs or what you can imagine. It’s the messy, frustrating and lack of ever just having a moment of balance kind. Maybe I should say instead that life is like a tightrope, just no net or pretty other side.
Sometimes I think about everything that makes up my life… and by sometimes I mean all the time. There’s my family. These insane people that I fight going back and forth from hate to love. This crazy thing in my life that has me permanently walking this line of doom. I mean they’ve fucked me up, so bad. Trying to have conversations about it has proven to be impossible. They just don’t get it or can’t have it. I still haven’t figured out which one it is. All I know is how bad they’ve fucked me up and how much I still love them. It feels like I’m always going to love cutting myself. Everyone around you knows it’s bad and you should stop it…but the pain…the pain is just something else outside of it all. That’s my family in my life. My grandma who needs medication and therapy, but loves way too hard. My grandfather who can’t handle anything emotional, so just pushes it away for logical judgement and brief moments of sadness and rage. My Aunt who tries so hard I wonder why she does and also half the time thinks I’m a psychopath. My baby cousin who already at seven reminds me of the mean girls in high school that had made me hate my life. My mother… my mother who breaks me down still at this age and sums it all up as I’m the broken monster in her life.
Then there’s my friends. That’s a whole ‘nother mess of complications. I’m either choosing to stay close to people who I know will respect my boundaries and stay in okay distances or I’m too emotionally attached to the idea of the friendship to do anything I should do in it. I just… I don’t know how to have healthy connections with people. I never grew up with it, and the more I try this later in life learning crap the more I think wtf I’m forever bad it. It’s like there will always be some wall or disconnect I have with people and I don’t understand why. why can’t I do that final plug in with the world. And even on a smaller scale I have issues on making decisions when it comes to people. Just right now I’m struggling with what to say to a friend. I’ve wanted her to visit so long and she finally has…but with her bf? Fuck, I don’t even know if I have the right to be upset about it. But I am. And that could be part bf or part my other mental crap.
And there’s a lot of mental crap. I mean forget getting fucked up by all them bitches growing up. Forget child abuse, rape, molestation, bullying, isolation…. you can throw that all aside. There’s still being bipolar, depressed, anxious, insomniac, etc… Every year the list I get gets longer and my medications get higher in dose. Hey, by the way did I ever mention: I have a chronic problem of seeing dead children at night? You can ask my mother. For many reasons I don’t want to disclose we slept in the same bed till I was 18 and leaving for university. I’m totally not mentally fucked up.
And now I’m physically fucked up. I mean literally my body is trying to make me live a long painful life instead of just killing me. Arthritis, Ankylosing Spondylitis, Fibromyalgia and a shit ton of genes that mean I’ll probably one day have more when they decide to wake up and make me miserable. I mean not being able to walk stuck in bed with craploads of pain and an hyper bipolar mind is a beautiful thing to do to someone. Oh, and lets throw in brain fog to make them be insecure about the one thing they were good at: being smart.
I hate my life, so fucking much. I spend all my time trying to fake my way into happiness because hey eventually I’ll get there. I won’t be lonely. I won’t thing a dog is a solution to all my current problems and I won’t have to stop myself from getting low enough I wonder if it would be too messy to just simply walk in front of a car. Or worry about if I should burden my friends with these thoughts or continue to play I’m killing it game.
I mean…. how do you say to people you are hate your life and you never think that’s going to change. That you are passed fear and into acceptance that you will never be married or have children because you’ll never be able to have a one. How do you tell people that when the rage and mask finally fell the only thing left of you is endless tears and this broken shell.
I am so broken. So fucked up. I honestly don’t even know why I am still here. What is even the point of me?
Sometimes I think I’m a cliche, or just some bad joke.
Hi Hi Y’all,
I am completely and utterly exhausted. BUT. I have to push through for at least another 3 days…SO. Adding to the site today we have one chapter update for American Horror Story Fan Fiction:
AAAAND… I have Part 1 of the updates for an orginal web novel series between Outremusings and myself, called H x E. There is now 21 chapters up!
Other news, I did one of those Buzzfeed thingies. I tried to go back to my past life and stuffs. So I asked myself (as instructed by the video) what have I brought with me, and this is what I saw:
The sight of tan bareless feet running….trees…I’m in a forest. I love the forest…It’s so beautiful….But I can’t think like that because I’m suddenly filled with worry…I’m fleeing from something…I can see my hands. There tan, rough. I think I’m Pacific Islander. Maybe South Asian…But my instinct says I’m Pacific Islander…. I can also feel smoke although I can’t see it….Just like how I can suddenly feel the ocean near me…I keep falling… I want to stop running…I’m exhausted…So exhausted… I just want it all to stop.. BUT..I know I can’t. I have to get where I’m going.I think I’m a screw up. That I’m not good at what I’m supposed to be good at. And now I know all these people depend on me getting there. And I hear the sound of someone crying, but I can’t see them. I didn’t know the pain could get worse…and as I run I see black start to cover my vision………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
I think I died. I don’t think I made it. I think I let down those people. Because suddenly I hear lots of cries, and know a fire is crawling towards me. That I’m about to become ashes and return to the earth…I know I never made it………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….And then I’m back in that world tree. The accumulation of all mes is a little girl with a bunny doll. And I watch her drop this tiny old fashioned bunny. I watch it fall from this tree and place that is dark and light all at the same time to empty space. Falling until somehow I can no longer see it. The words in a voice I can’t recognize linger in my head, ‘Let Go’.
Welp. That was my one fun introspective update of the week. Also, I got called a Kyke today in class. I won’t get into it, but… I haven’t been called a Kyke since I was seven and in such rural South you questioned everything about yourself…Still processing that. But I know I’m feeling some sort of pain.
Also, to my friend Outremusings, my ride or die, I’m sorry I’ve been falling into old patterns and not being a good friend. There’s no excuse.
My goal was to stop myself from feeling so overwhelmed. It was to control my anxiety and be here in the present with the people that love me and the people I love. And you are most definitely on the top of that list.
I really just want to feel like I’ve become successful in any capacity…I want my service dog.