#also my knowledge of how scottish people speak is beyond limited and probably bastardized by irish/english turns of phrase

[ramrage]

fic concept: "dear simon"

ive been playing with the idea of writing a fic but it's told entirely through the pages of soap's journal, which have at some point become a collection of letters to ghost. of course he's never going to give them to ghost. he just needs a way to puzzle out their interactions because ghost is a cryptic pain in the ass and does he hate me or like me what's going on?

it definitely is chock full of limitations, but were i able to work around them and somehow make it benefit the narrative, it would be electric. the "truth" wouldn't matter or exist at all. it would be limited to soap's perception, colored by overthinking and shame/embarrassment despite trying to write something completely honest and for his eyes only.

shit i wrote at 3am below the cut. any suggestions/crit/feedback would be GREAT (plsplspls)

Dear Simon,

Yer never gonna read this. I’ll probably take a match to it when I’m done because yer a sneaky bastard and writing all this makes me feel like a cunt. I take to my journal, have been forever, to make my thoughts more real, yknow? not sure why i’m explaining myself to ye like yer ever gonna read it…

You’ve been getting on my last bleeding nerve, is the thing. Not like yer doin anything out of the ordinary for yerself. just the normal mysterious, aloof, fucken terrifying thing you do. with the stupid mask. fucken. i just didn’t know that /your thing/ also involved making fucken shite jokes bein endearing not as terrifying as i took ye fer. and that’s grand, except when you’re not being that way and i’m left to wonder how things went tits up.

i remember meeting you. they told me ye were some big scary fucker, and ye were, jesus, but i wanted to crack ye. after graves turned and left us to claw outta las almas, i thought i was. i didnae think ye’d wait for me, didnae think ye’d be in my ear with some of the most shite jokes i’d ever heard, but ye were. made me wanna push ye. see yer limits. i’ll be honest, i was full on with callin ye a good ol boy and tellin ye to take yer mask off. sorry bout that. but ye coulda shut me up and i know ye wouldnae struggle to. so i thought i found a boundary.

but you’ve been short with me all week. today, ye fucking head case, i do nothin more than nudge ye in the gym, tell ye yer liftin light + ye come at me like ye got a stick up yer arse. not even a quip back. whatdye say? some bullshite about respecting your superiors, /mactavish/. ye didnae strike me as a man who gave a quarter shite about vanity lifting and ye still don’t. im probably making somethin outta nothin and i dinnae ken why i even give a damn, give a damn enough to write it out like a wee fucken lovesick school girl, but here i am. i’ve not cared about people liking me for bleedin ages. and people tend to like me, no? charming and handsome bastard that i am.

maybe i don like thinking i can’t figure you out. yer rank pulling stunt has me wanting to punch the head clean off ye, but i still think i can crack ye. it’d do ye some good, lt. i told ye as much in las almas, and i meant it. not sure if ye got it, though.

well. i’ve not got anything left to tell ye, not today, and my hands are cramping somethin awful so i’ll sign off. until next time, ye jackarse.

J

notes to the readers that might exist:

in addition to literally any feedback you have, i have some specific questions about bits im particularly unhappy with/insecure about. but dw bout being too harsh or honest, i was in writing workshops (you wouldnt be able to tell smh) with liberal arts students with something to prove so my skin has been thickened yk. if by the grace of god you wanna beta pls lmk and ill have a child just so i can give you my firstborn xx

how do we feel about the strikethroughs? personally i think they can help me say shit that i want the reader to know but dont think johnny completely means or is ready to say

should i push details like that which reinforce that this is written by hand? like shorthand, writing + instead of "and"

i put slashes around things that i would otherwise italicize bc that's what i do when i journal. does it work? what would work better?

should the entries include dates?

how severely does it sound like an american trying to sound scottish lol? lmk what works/doesn't work im dying out here

i have an idea for the last chapter (despite not having a plot) and tbh it's predictable as hell but it could be zesty (;

[theunderdogwrites]

Green Lives Matter

My favorite Halloween costume from my childhood (age 10) was The Hulk.

For three reasons:

1.       I made it myself

2.       I wore it two years in a row

3.       It made my outside look how I felt on the inside – tough but complicated

I cut up an old pair of jeans to look as though my tiny legs had busted through the seams and to make it appear like I’d grown taller. I took an old white dress shirt and shredded the sleeves to symbolize my biceps exploding in rage and slightly shredded away the length. I put black (safe) spray paint in my hair and painted my legs, arms and face in Hulk green to complete the look. There is a photo of this masterpiece somewhere in an old album, I just don’t have access to it right at this moment. I know I looked magnificent because I remember the feeling of hiding behind this larger than life character for a night while grunting for candy or else “HULK SMASH!” your front door down. I love this memory.

Now let’s address this – I did green face.

I refuse to apologize and if The Hulk wants to come find me and break me like a hard pretzel, well then he better bring backup because even though I am no longer painting my face green… I have turned myself into a Hulk. Ok, a mini Hulk. But I can conjure up a temper and throw a tantrum while also being completely unreasonable and void of real direction. So... yeah, he’s going to need someone other than Black Widow to come with him.

I should mention that I am white. And not just white – I am Scottish white (Scottish heritage, born in Canada). Fair skinned, blonde hair, green eyes and I once thought mashed potatoes were the best food of all time. Until I discovered garlic mashed potatoes. Mind blown.

“I love humanity, but I hate humans.” – Albert Einstein

Let’s not lie – being white has its privileges. Do I know what all those privileges are? No, probably because I’m privileged in some way. But I find myself going back to the same bit to explain so much that I encounter in life:

Until my high school guidance councillor explained to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was a thing. I had no idea it was a possibility and I certainly did not know that many people were actively participating.

My lack of knowledge wasn’t due to privilege but rather because suicide had never been apart of my life experience. Would we call that ignorance? Some definitely would because it literally means ‘being unaware’. I feel an ignorant person is not only being unaware, but also a first-rate wanker because they won’t educate themselves or evolve and wish to remain blind to reality.

Once I became aware of suicide, I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist. I started to pay attention. I didn’t brush it off as an experience that didn’t affect me but rather a symptom of fragile mental health and I gave it the consideration it deserved as something that many people were suffering through… most of the time alone. If I see something that is wrong, that I know needs my support – I am there.

That is not my privilege speaking, that is my humanity.  

 The senseless murder of George Floyd ignited a firestorm.

(A firestorm is a conflagration (an extensive fire which destroys a great deal of land or property) which attains such intensity that it creates and sustains its own wind system. It is most commonly a natural phenomenon, created during some of the largest bushfires and wildfires.)

When I saw the footage on the news – I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand the blank, almost twisted look on that officer’s face as he drove his knee down on George Floyd’s neck. I didn’t understand the blatant inaction of the other officers while witnessing this brutal extinguishing of a human being. I didn’t understand why this level of aggression was necessary on someone who was already subdued. And I didn’t understand why the words “I can’t breathe” didn’t invoke an ounce of compassion or relief.

Then came the protesting. Then the riots. Then the looting. And I still didn’t understand.

While some people want to group all three of these events, in my mind, these are three separate actions. Because by attaching the riots and the looting with the genuineness of the protesting…  it lessons the cause, blurs the intention and distracts from the truth… therefore painting the protestors with a brush of violence, greed and chaos. And that is beyond unfair.

The PROTESTS are NOT out of control.

The pain and frustration are what’s out of control and more importantly the injustice is out of control and people are responding to a situation where they feel angry and powerless. Yes, the fires, destruction of property and looting are awful collateral here but it’s important to not loose focus on what caused this current situation. We often look at with contempt and criticize reactions while forgetting the action that started everything.

And that is another injustice.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin writing about Black Lives Matter or Antifa. I say this because of the controversy surrounding both movements. And if you dive deep enough into the internet, like I did, you too will begin to suffer from what I like to call ‘I don’t know what to fucking think anymore-itis’.

So, I’m going to escape talking about these two groups with this:

“Instead of feeling threatened by and hating a movement, be glad you don’t need a movement.”

 My experience with black people is pretty limited. Not by choice, but rather due to geography, common interests and quite possibly socioeconomics. I can count on one hand the number of black people I knew throughout my school-aged years. My area was diverse in other ways, so no, I did not grow up in White Breadville. I mention all this to lay down a bit of background before I continue.

“I don’t see colour.” How many of us have said this at least once in the last six months? I have. And I probably said it to prove to myself or someone else that I wasn’t racist. But I no longer say that… because the truth is, I do see colour. I see ALL the fucking colours and they are beautiful. It’s people who are ugly.

If you were to ask me point blank if I was racist, I’d tell you point blank – I am not. And I’d say this with absolute belief in my character and sincerity. I care less about your skin colour and nationality and more about you returning your shopping cart to its proper location. That is the truth. Your religion doesn’t bother me at all (as long as you’re not cramming it down my throat) but your ability to treat others with genuine kindness and compassion sure matters to me. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you want to identify… be a Martian, I’m totally cool with that, but bully others in my presence and I will come at you with the full force of nuclear pasta (look it up).

The last handful of months (I’m assuming here) has caused most of us to pull up and examine those deep in the corner of our brain concepts. You know the ones – the ones that might get you questioned by The Thought Police if they existed outside of fiction. It’s ok, we all have those little bastard notions creeping around… no matter the skin colour. I started to take a closer look at some of the things I think and how they would affect others if I wore those thoughts on a t-shirt. Needless to say, I’m not super impressed with myself. Because while I know with all my heart that I am not a racist person, I do recognize that I buy into and perpetuate some stereotypes. And I have zero excuses. This admission makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I’m ok with that… I can learn through discomfort.

I hear many people talking about and referring to white guilt.

-          White Guilt: ‘the feelings of shame and remorse some white people experience when they recognize the legacy of racism and racial injustice and perceive the ways they have benefited from it’.

I do not feel shame and remorse as a white person. As a human being, I am ashamed of how many of my fellow humans treat those who do not look the way they do or do not come from the same background. Do I believe there is a legacy of racism and racial injustice? Yes, 100%. Have I benefitted from this because I am white? I may be too dumb to answer this correctly. Or maybe too white? Or maybe I’ve had blinders on because based upon my own level of perception, I’ve always struggled to navigate my own existence therefore only know what has directly prevented me from being who and what I want in this world?

I underlined ‘level of perception’ because as the quote goes: “I stopped explaining myself when I realized people only understand things from their level of perception”

Earlier I said there were so many things I didn’t understand about George Floyd’s death and the protests etc. but here is something I do comprehend - there’s a big difference between understanding someone’s plight and being understanding of someone’s plight. Sympathy doesn’t require a total understanding of what problems other people are experiencing.

I may not fully grasp the struggles of those in the black community because it is not my experience but I will not ignore, deny or challenge their struggles. I will however educate myself on the issues, observe my own reactions and offer support in the ways I can and offer compassion to anyone who is willing to accept a little love from a min Hulk.

Nothing I write here is meant to change your mind. It is not meant to offend or shame you for how you may feel or think and nothing I write here is meant to lessen the seriousness of the current situation facing an entire community of people. As a writer my only goal is often to just disrupt your thoughts. Period.