#but places w/ shit public transit make me A BABY

[roseband]

my better judgement is telling me to NOT go to atlanta

[frogoat]

Venom and Eminem

I've recently had a few people ask me my opinion on the song 'Venom' by Eminem for the soundtrack of the titular film. So here we go:

Despite perhaps not being top-tier in terms of his best work, Eminem’s Venom song does hold more merit than might be thought from your first listen. 

For those only familiar with his early hits or present day charting singles, Eminem frequently utilizes more than one persona for his various songs: Eminem (the Rap God), Marshall Mathers (the man behind the facade) and Slim Shady (the dark and offensive Evil Twin). 

Through his early career the artist became mostly associated with his Slim Shady persona, partly because of which songs became hits and which lyrics drew negative media attention and partly because he encouraged it and even enjoyed it. 

Over the years, he's come out with many songs discussing his meteoric rise to fame, his poor handling of the popularity and the scrutiny of media associated with living in the public eye. His marriage fell apart, he was banned in places and demonstrated against. He was a villain because he gave into his dark impulses and didn't care who got hurt as a result. Sound familiar?

Venom started out as a villain who gained popularity exceptionally quickly and was later transitioned into an anti-hero as a result. Often described as an evil counterpart to Spider-Man, the combination of the alien symbiote and former journalist turned obsessive Spidey stalker Eddie Brock, Venom never actually corrupted it's former host Spider-Man. In fact, until Eddie came along the symbiote was merely a glorified tool, an extension of the hosts will. Under Eddie's influence Venom suddenly became a fearsome malevolence that hurt and killed those in their way without remorse and justified and rationalized their actions so as to never blame themselves. 

'Ever since I came along From the day the song called "Hi! My Name Is" dropped Started thinking my name was fault 'Cause anytime things went wrong I was the one who they would blame it on The media made me the equivalent of a modern-day Genghis Khan'

--Guts Over Fear

Further into his career, Em tried to transition himself into a more sympathetic light, with more singles and album tracks focusing on his personal struggles and private life, while still maintaining the harder edge and unapologetic attitude that made him famous. In terms of trajectory, this very much mirrors Venom's repositioning into an anti-hero in the comics. In more recent times we've seen Em address his own status as a villain in the industry including attempts to make amends with such songs as 'Headlights' and 'Bad Husband' as well as more vulnerable songs like 'Walk on Water' and ‘In Your Head’. 

‘Hailie, baby, I didn't mean to make you eighty/Percent of what I rapped about/ Maybe I shoulda did a better job at separating/Shady and entertaining from real life/But this fame thing is still the hardest thing to explain/It's the craziest shit I/Ever seen, and back then it was like I ain't even/Bothered taking into consideration/You one day being older and may hear me say things/I didn’t (A) mean and (B) just ain’t me/’

--In Your Head

There's almost a one to one comparison between the character of Venom and the artist Marshall Mathers. Eddie blames others or deflects responsibility for his behaviour, as Em often dismissed criticism of his foul and offensive lyrics as just his art - the work of his evil other half, Slim Shady- not intended to be taken seriously. Both became overnight hits, both became more sympathetic overtime and both seemingly flit between the role of villain and anti-hero in their respective mediums and in the eyes of fans.

The song Venom itself makes for a microcosm of themes. The song starts by claiming it's for those who've been given a 'raw deal' and are feeling angry. This can be read as referring to both Eddie Brock and Marshall himself when they were at low points in life. then we are introduced to a few themes with 'When something's in your mitochondrial/ 'Cause it latched on to you' conjuring images of the alien symbiote and 'Knock knock, let the devil in, malevolent/ As I've ever been, head spinnin', this medicine' using the symbiote as a metaphor for his past drug dependence and bad behaviour. These ideas reoccur throughout the song, with shifting meanings as the song progresses. 'shoulda been dead a long time ago' can also be read as referring to both Em's near death experience via overdose before going sober and Eddie Brock's attempted suicide and/or cancer diagnosis before finding the symbiote.

 The chorus makes reference to the erratic behaviour of both Eddie and Marshall with ' Venom, (I got that) adrenaline momentum/ And I'm not knowin' when I'm/ Ever gonna slow up and I'm/ Ready to snap any moment I'm/ Thinkin' it's time to go get 'em/ (W-w-when they get bit with the-)/ Venom'. There's also not-so-subtle references here to the adrenaline rush a person feels when using certain drugs, which also describes the way Eddie feels when empowered by the alien symbiote. 

Another commonality, Venom and Eminem are known for using descriptions of over the top violent acts, often for humourous effect. The humour is also juxtaposed against the dark themes of the song or the actions taken. This can be seen to address the power fantasy of both Eddie Brock’s newfound abilities and Marshall's fame and influence, which inevitably results in them abusing their abilities and status. Tell me that doesn’t remind you of anyone else?

'Then I wait to face the demons I'm bonded to/ 'Cause they're chasin' me but I'm part of you/ So escapin' me is impossible/ I latch onto you like a—parasite/ And I probably ruined your parents' life/ And your childhood too/'Cause if I'm the music that y'all grew up on/I'm responsible for you retarded fools/ I'm the super villain Dad and Mom was losin' their marbles to/ You marvel that? Eddie Brock is you/ And I'm the suit, so call me—/ Venom'

While the symbiote is initially used as a way to talk about the dark side of Marshall's personality, fame and former drug addiction, by the song’s conclusion he admits that despite his decade of sobriety and efforts to change, the darkness always resided within him. Unlike Eddie Brock, Marshall is taking responsibility for his actions. However, if Em is the symbiote suit, then he's granting great power, and it's up to the audience ('Eddie Brock is you') to use it responsibly.

Or maybe it's all just a catchy song to sell records?

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

Moments (Part 13)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members

Anon Request: Hello, I was wondering if i could request a Jensen x Fan Reader fic were they meet at a con. There they keep running into each other. Thank You.

Summary: Attending a convention has always been a dream - and that dream is now a reality. Little did you know a clumsy run-in would lead to meeting one of your favorite actors. Who knows what the weekend will hold.

A/n: As always, thanks to my sweet betas, @winchester-writes and @our-jensen-ackles-love. Masterlist is attached in a reblog if you’d like to catch up! W/C: 2500. Warnings: none? Jensen and Jared being adorable. Also, this gif is lethal.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

“His eyes are blazing with light, more light than all the lights in every city in the whole world, more light than we could ever invent If we had ten thousand billion years.” ― Lauren Oliver, Delirium

Y/f/n followed you down the stairs as you hastily jumped from step to step, hurrying nowhere in particular rather quickly.

“I mean is this insane?” you asked her as she trailed behind you. “This is fast… like really fast. Should I already be saying shit like that? That I’m in love with him?”

Almost tripping, she tried her best to keep up with you, “Well, yeah… its fast.”

You halted immediately, “What?!”

She almost ran into you, taken aback, “I mean—yeah, Y/n. Its fast, but that doesn’t mean it's a bad thing. I know you’re in love with him, its written all over your adorable face.” She giggled, squishing your cheek teasingly. “And look, you don’t have to do anything until you’re ready, okay? You don't have to ‘go public’ or whatever.” She continued, using air quotes with her hands, not unlike Jared’s exaggerated ones. “But I think this is good for you. You’re obviously head over heels for him, and he’s crazy about you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. She was right, and you knew it. This is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you, but what’s life without a little crazy?

The two of you went to stand in the lengthy line for your J2 photo op among the 200 others who had purchased tickets. Y/f/n simply stood beside you and held your hand as you took in all of the noise and excitement around you. A group of girls in their early 20’s that were about 5 feet in line ahead of you were gossiping about the photo snapped of you and Jensen. They giggled and zoomed in on the picture, making assumptions of whom it could be; another famous actress, some random hookup… the speculations went on and on. In this moment, instead of panic, it made you giggle. It would be hard to suspect that the person in the photo was a regular con-goer like themselves, so you willed the blush away from your cheeks as they went on to discuss the remainder of their photo ops.

Funnily enough, you hadn’t had anyone recognize you or Y/f/n from the photo you took with them at lunch yet, but you weren’t arguing too much about that either.

Y/f/n and you chatted about what you would do for lunch and dinner that afternoon on your breaks between panels as the line progressed until you were close enough to make the turn into the ballroom that had been transitioned into a make-shift photo studio. There was a large backdrop that shielded the actors from prying eyes in the hallway and another behind them that was grey, black, and white. Tables were placed around the room for people to set their bags and cell phones and one that held bottles of water and snacks for the actors. A handler instructed you and Y/f/n to place your stuff on the table and present your ticket and soon you were almost in view of the man that hounded your every thought.

He was still clad in his blue and white plaid, but the lighting of the room and the dark backdrop made his tan skin almost glow and his eyes shine. He kept scanning the line in front of you, almost as if he was searching for someone. When he met your eyes, you knew he’d been waiting for you.

He gave a slight smile, one that made the dimples in his cheeks visible through his light scruff and his lips plump further. A giddy twist of your gut sent a shade of rose to your cheeks when he didn’t move his eyes from your form for a solid thirty seconds—which doesn’t sound like a lot, but under the gaze of Jensen Ackles, its an eternity.

The handler was showing another group to the photo area: a young couple with an adorably chubby infant wearing an “SPN Family” onesie. Jared clapped his hands and jumped up and down at the sight of the youngster and went to coo over the baby immediately and asked how old she was.

But it was Jensen who spoke up, “Okay, who gets to hold the baby?!” he asked in a deadpanned, serious expression. “It better be me.” He stated, pointing to himself.

“Nuh uh! I wanna hold her!” Jared pouted, stomping his feet.

“Why don’t you both hold her?” the mom said, solving the issue in a very mom-like manner.

You watched as the boys argued for a moment over how to hold the giggling baby. She was old enough to hold her head up, so the boys stood next to each other as the dad placed the baby in their arms. Jensen held the majority of the baby’s weight, wrapping his arm around her stomach, while Jared supported her head and bottom as the parent filed in around them.

You smiled as they all cheesed for the camera, the photographer doing his best to make the baby look at him instead of staring at the two giants holding her. A flood of warmth coursed through you at seeing them interact with the little girl, trying to make her giggle and smile before handing her back to her parents.

“Damn…” Y/f/n said beside you, rubbing her chest dramatically out of breath. “Why do they have to look so sexy holding a baby? My ovaries are gonna explode.”

“Right?” you giggled, knowing that it took a whole damn lot for Y/f/n to be excited about babies. She loved them, but they scared her—she insisted that their heads would fall off if you didn't support them correctly. You tried to explain to her that that wasn’t how it worked, that they wouldn’t literally fall off but you did have to be careful, but she denied it.

Jensen must’ve seen the interaction, because when you glanced back over to him he had a smirk on his face and that one eyebrow was raised, as if he knew that him holding that cute little chubby adorable baby would make your insides go to mush.

After every photo that took place before you made it to the front, he’d meet your eyes until he had to greet the next fan.

When you and Y/f/n finally approached, Jared’s face lit up, “Hi, guys!” he exclaimed and wrapped you both in a hug together.

You waited for him to release the two of you, but when he didn’t you saw that he was teasing Jensen, not letting either one of you go and sticking his tongue out to his friend. Y/f/n giggled—audibly giggled, which she didn’t do very often—as you pried your neck from Jared’s chest to peer at Jensen who had his arms crossed and was glaring at his friend. Jared turned his back even more to Jensen, tugging you both along with him. The photographer snapped a picture and you saw a flash, but then Jared released you so you could both hug Jensen.

Y/f/n gave him a side hug and poked him in the side, making him jump a little and point his finger at her in warning. When she retreated, he held his arms open for you and you didn’t miss a beat before waltzing into his embrace. It wasn’t too showy, but he held you close enough to whisper, “Hey, baby” into your ear and effectively rendering you speechless.

The photographer asked how you’d like to pose and Y/f/n detailed exactly what you had planned out weeks ago. Jared stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, while Jensen did the same to you, each of you resting your hands on their biceps. Jensen’s hand enclosed over yours that lay on his arm, entwining his fingers with yours and he brought his face lower so that you could feel his scruff against your cheek. Jared mimicked his stance and you all smiled as Chris, the photographer—who you just happened to follow on instagram—took the picture.

Jared hugged you both again and winked at you as he went to talk to Chris, seemingly giving you and Jensen an extra couple of seconds together as he tried to shield you from those in line.

Jensen hugged Y/f/n again and grabbed your hands quickly. “I’ll see you again in a little while, okay? I’ve got to have lunch with the rest of the cast after this, but I’ll make sure to have a few moments at some point set aside for you. They’ll all help me.” He winked.

“Its fine, Jay. I know you’re busy, babe.” You replied, not missing the excitement on his features at your use of a pet name. “But, real quickly… I wanted to tell you something.” You whispered.

“Okay. What is it, sweetheart?” he said, trying to hide the nerves in his voice. He may have thought you were going to tell him that this was too hard, or that you didn’t want to take it any further than this weekend.

“I wanted to say that…” you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, smiling, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Jensen beamed, “Really?”

“Yeah, Jay… really. I’m in.”

He simply took you into his arms and squeezed you into his chest where you could feel his heart pounding. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss to your temple before watching you walk towards the exit, his stare never leaving yours until you were out of sight.

You left the room feeling confident and happy, following Y/f/n out of the hotel to a sub restaurant down the street. Over your turkey sandwiches and chips, Y/f/n was fully enthralled in talking about all the ifs-ands-and-buts about your potential relationship after you confessed to her what you’d told Jensen at the photo op. She was ever encouraging that you could make it work, but promised that she’d be the stalker who followed you if you ever moved away from your shared hometown. The thought of how you’d manage such a relationship plagued you for about three minutes until you had to return to the convention hotel. You ate quickly and caught the remainder of the casts’ panels before the short intermission ahead of the J2 panel.

Jensen texted that he could sneak you and Y/f/n into the green room for a few minutes and told you to meet Cliff outside. When you told her, she immediately dropped the earrings she was eyeing at one of the vendors’ shops in the hallway and dragged you to where Jensen had instructed you to go. You hiked up the end of your dress to keep up with her while trying to keep your feet in your sandals; she was just as excited to see the remainder of the cast as she was for you to see Jensen again.

Cliff shuffled you in discretely, opening and closing the door quickly as you entered. The same cast members that you had dinner with the night before were seated around the room chatting and singing random tunes with one another. Bri and Kim gave you both hugs, Rob and Rich nodded towards you and Rob kissed the back of Y/f/n’s hands.

Suddenly, you saw Jensen coming toward you from across the room. He silently grabbed your hand and led you to the corner, away from the others who simply smiled and turned in the opposite direction, giving you your privacy.

You only had time for a quick embrace and a short exchange of words before Cliff was peeking in the door, warning that they had two minutes until they had to be on stage. He asked where you were seated and said he’d look for you from the stage. Jensen apologized that he had to go so soon, giving you a sad smile and a swift kiss, but it was enough to make your mind numb.

It was strange how simply everything fell into place. Y/f/n was acting like a part of the group and that she’d known them for years, and it was alarming how easy it was to feel whole again when his lips pressed to yours. It was already a comfortable existence… and it felt amazing.

He blew you a kiss as he retreated with Jared, who flailed excitedly and breezed himself with his hands, Jensen simply laughing as he fell out the door, with Rob and Rich closely behind them.

The cast offered for you to stay with them and wait, but neither one of you could bear to miss the panel, so you went into the large ballroom and fell into your reserved seats in the copper section. It wasn’t long before R2 were on stage, hyping up the crowd before introducing the main actors of the show that a ballroom of people were screaming for. They emerged, wearing large grins and waving to the crowd and high fiving the band.

They took their respective chairs and goofed around for a bit, making inside jokes and whispering to each other before addressing the fans waiting in the wings to ask questions.

The first few were directed at both actors, asking about their favorite monsters to hunt and what they believe the brothers would do if they ever retired.

You and Y/f/n name were laughing and having fun at the panel when a young girl, around her early 20’s, was handed the microphone.

“Hello there!” Jared spoke, turning in his seat to face her—which, of course, he had turned backwards.

“Hi.” She replied meekly.

“What’s your name?” Jensen asked.

A bit of static flowed through the speakers before she responded, “Caroline.”

“Hi Caroline. How are you today?” Jared smiled at the young girl, who was obviously nervous.

“I’m doing well.” She mused. “Its my first convention.”

The crowd applauded as both Jensen and Jared welcomed her.

Jensen spoke into his microphone as the crowd stopped cheering, “What’s your question, sweetheart?” You smiled at the drawl of his voice and how gentle he was being with her.

“Well, my question is for Jensen.”

Jared made ‘phew’ sound and dropped his microphone in his lap.

Jensen’s eyes seemed to scan the crowd momentarily, looking toward where you told him you’d be seated. How you wished he could see you, but with the bright overhead lights, it was doubtful that he could pick you out of the crowd. Something told you, however, that he was looking in your direction on purpose, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in some fashion. To give it a fighting chance, you told Y/f/n that you were going to run to the restroom quickly and ventured to the end of your row, keeping your stare toward the stage. It looked like Jensen spotted you as a discreet smile crept to his lips.

You turned to retreat down the aisle to the exit, peeking behind you once or twice at the stage as Jensen encouraged Caroline to ask her question.

But it was her question that stopped you dead in your tracks.

“It’s… it’s about a picture.”

[amilliontinywraiths]

Everything was boring and it fucking hurt

I find myself sitting on the fifth floor of an unidentifiable River North office building—a neighborhood humming with New Money and (likely, unknowably) depressed office drones. Brick walk-ups and well-trimmed hedges are the background of lives made better by Airpods, purebred puppies, and a recent mass-dump of motorized gig-economy scooters. I am sitting on the toilet.

I sit on my Apple-developed Notes app, typing ideas for possible blog posts, wishing to fill a blog that is yet to exist. Wishing to distract myself from the world outside of this stall, and to shit on my employer’s time. The list goes as such:

Airbnb as an idea of what is it like to really live alone, or an experiment in someone else’s (put-together) life. Adulthood as studio apartment living in anonymous stranger’s room while he moves out for a week to make rent and I am on vacation. Permanency of homes, impermanency of apartments (youth?) where you cannot drill a hole. DIY baby boomers tweet thread. (see here and here)

“One Last Zine Workshop to End Them All,” or why contemporary art museums think they are saving the children when they teach them a saddle stitch – see MoMA PS1 calendar of events

The myth of the Irish-American dream, or why my coworker talks to me like we are two oppressed comrades while he sips Jameson, or why when I applied to a job in London I marked my ethnic identity as “Irish”

I write none of these and wipe my ass and leave the two-stalled restroom, shimmy-ing around an aggressive older woman in Sketchers, an employee of the landscaping company housed next door (whose company name is an oddly conceived mix of “soil” and a commonly-used slur for Romani people, if you catch my drift). Much like this entire restroom situation, my life feels like shit.

I am a recent graduate of an arts college with a vague bachelor’s degree teetering somewhere between visual art and critical theory; a tale as old as time. I graduate, and unlike a tale as old as time, I am offered a full-time job at a small journal where I have worked for the last three years. I am lucky, in the so-called grand scheme of things. But with a salary of $27k, I take home around $850 every two weeks, and in three months, if my body so needs, I am eligible to pay a $150 premium monthly and be welcomed into the world of a PPO. My weary teeth will walk through the pearly gates, introduced to the world of dental insurance and regularly cleanings (making St. Peter a BlueCross BlueShield customer service representative?). At this point, my titanium teeth and I will take the 65-bus home to our five-hundred-something-dollars-a-month apartment with a monthly take-home pay of about $12.98 an hour. I think I have vacation days. Truthfully, I’ve never made this much money!

I am the youngest non-intern in the office, the vegan who makes group ordering difficult, the one with (too many) tattoos, the projection of coworkers who once were youthful and excited but were sucked into the world of 9-5’s and caring too much about a company that keeps them late on weekday nights. A coworker notes that I look sad, about two weeks into my full-time office labor: “You seem like you’re getting used to how bad this all is.” I smile, he smiles, I walk back to my tiny stall, making sure to grab the pink lanyard with a key, and sob.

Apologies, I am not here to complain about money or my lack of emotional well-being. I am really here to discuss this transition from the demands of a thesis program and part-time service work into the simultaneous chaos and monotony of working at an arts journal—which happens to be published by an international arts fair akin to Art Basel—and the utter mind-fuck that comes with this work. The transition from deeply believing in everything I was learning and writing to halting completely, this transition to the boredoms of office work (sung to the tune of Kate Bush’s This Women’s Work). Wait, yes, I’m here to complain.

My girlfriend buys me a copy of David Graeber’s newest book, Bullshit Jobs: A Theory. This book stems from a 2013 article (On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs: A Work Rant) commissioned by STRIKE! Magazine, a publication whose office I have been to and whose former editor I once kissed (A note that the world of radical publishing is much too small, and the kiss was weird). I begin the book on the bus to work, descending from the bus at 9:55 with an anger marinating in my questionably professional work attire. Graeber outlines what a “bullshit job” is, to paraphrase, employment which could disappear and nothing would happen (think bureaucratic middle-management), labor in which the employee does not think it holds any value, and, the kicker, there is a pressure upon the employee(s) to pretend it does matter.

My coworkers seem to notice, or rather, are pretending better than I that this all matters. From being the only employee to take their designated (paid!) lunch break and promptly leaving at five, to sitting silently in meetings in which higher-level associates scream at each other in roundtable arguments on which VIP attendee deserves to stay the W Hotel (versus, say, another lakefront luxury hotel), I am clearly the only one that visibly does not give a shit. Still, I feel the pressure myself—I sheepishly ask my boss if I am doing enough, hiding my insurrectionary tendencies underneath a borrowed Uniqlo button-up. 

I *try* to read The New Inquiry every day, a perk of perpetual boredom protected by dimmed screens and quick Desktop shifts. I type “boredom,” in the search bar, hoping to find a critical “hot take” on this lingering feeling; to be clear, I am searching for redemption in the result page #8. An editor of TNI, Rob Horning, perhaps fulfills my yearning with his Ordinary Boredom essay, relating postcards depicting boring landscapes (offices and shopping malls, parking lots and highways, American staples) to varying definitions of boredom, the feeling or the state. He frames boredom as a resistance, as rejecting the demands of consumerism and the pressures of high-production: “My boredom is actually a sign of my focus; my refusal to be distractible is so militant that I will decline to pay attention to anything.” It’s nice to hear that my boredom is militancy, when really, I feel like I’m slipping into another layer of Hell. 

Graeber theorizes on Hell in his piece, too. He writes,

Once, when contemplating the apparently endless growth of administrative responsibilities in British academic departments, I came up with one possible vision of hell. Hell is a collection of individuals who are spending the bulk of their time working on a task they don't like and are not especially good at.

I’d like to think I am alright at my editing job, which checks off half of the requirements for living in this Hell, as if I have one foot in the bucket (but the bucket is a sculpture sold by Gagosian). On the other hand, Horning marks boredom as eternal salvation: “Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.” 

Shit, I must be in purgatory. 

Welcome to the blog.

-

originally written June 27, 2019

[yasminsqueendom]

Antique the Vamp Geek Pt1 Ep5

CW:Death, violence, blood drinking, murder, sexually suggestive social media handles, anxiety/stress

A/N: This is the second Q and A. I guess at this point I started getting into a flow of how I wanted the series to move. 

W/C: 1075

Hey babes! I'm back again. I've got mixed news. I'll let y'all decide how to feel about it. 

So, if you pay any attention to the news, and even if you don't, I'm sure you've heard of the exsanguinated bikers. For those of you who haven't, here's the story.

So shortly after my last cast was posted, three biker dudes from Bikers Against Vamps were found in the public restroom of a bar completely drained of blood with marks on their necks. 

Naturally, riots ensued and several people were violently murdered in their homes, in markets, pretty much anywhere. All of these people weren't vamps, but just like those BS “stand your ground” laws were the excuse of the early 2010's, “I thought they were gonna infect me” is the excuse of our time. 

9 unnecessary deaths of innocent people, and 32 injuries from assaults, and an untold number of yelled slurs later, the local authorities released “previously unknown” info. THE BIKERS WERE NOT KILLED BY VAMPS! 

You heard that right.

Coroner's report showed that there was no blood around the wounds on their necks. Which literally translates to: they were already dead when the wounds were made. They found precise cuts right under their arms that could only be done by a knife. Blood soaked clothes were found in a nearby alleyway. 

THEY WEREN'T EVEN FROM THAT BIKER GANG!

They were three homeless men who were used to set up a major conspiracy against US.

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this. I see that a lot of you have sent me questions that I will be getting to at the end. All related articles and links will be posted on the station's website.

Update #2

Thanks to the support of pro-vamp allies and the endless labor done by vamps that are tired of living in hiding, 5 states have passed laws making violence illegal against people based on their infection status. Whether or not this law is enforced is entirely based upon the mood of law enforcement when the need arises. 

Update #3

Some clinics are open until 2 hours before dawn and 2 hours after dusk now. The addresses and info for those clinics will be posted on the website as well.

Update #4

I think my younger sibling may suspect that I am a vampire. I'm scared af about it.

Update #5

There is a working list of resources for baby vamps who may need some assistance in terms of talking to someone or connecting with an experienced vamp. Some of them have been quietly communicating on the internet. While they have not publicly disclosed their status, they seem very knowledgeable, and so far have been open to online communication. A link to the chats and forums they frequent can also be found on the website.

Update #6

Maybe this is the scariest one of all for me, personally. My school has required that all students get tested for vampirism and submit their results to the nursing facilities by the end of the semester. A few students have just dropped out. I'm so scared rn. I don't know what to do.

So ummm. Let's move on to questions.

One from @babyvamp.god: Hey Tique! I'm a “baby vamp” and I wanna thank you for giving us a voice. My question is this...do you find that black vampires face a different struggle than other races?

Ok so. Clearly I'm proudly and openly black and unapologetic about it. I'm coming to terms with the virus. It's a new and scary identity, but all the other shit is still there. I still get followed when I shop. I still get asked to answer all the awkward race questions in classes full of white students. I still make less than other people at my day job. On top of that, I'm a woman. I still flinch when men walk up too quickly behind me. I still hold my keys in my hand to scratch out the eyes of potential attackers at night. On top of that, I'm poor. I work almost 30 hrs a week and I'm a full time student. I literally don't even have time to breathe. My scholarships are the only thing keeping me afloat. And at least two of them are religious based. My sexuality is none of your business, but if you've been paying attention then it's obvious. I am everything my family fears and despises. Vampirism is just the newest thing. Everything else is the same.

Ok. Here's a question from @godforgiveus777: where do you think your soul will go when you die?

So I've already made my religious stance clear. I chose to answer this question just to reiterate. I will join my ancestors. They will welcome me. Who needs heaven when I've got a home?

Another question here from @flayedtothegawds: In your last cast, you talked about the sun's effects on you. I burn almost immediately. Why did it take so long for you?

Well, I don't know what you look like. Based on what I've read, melanin plays a large role in the amount of time a vamp can spend in the sun. Also, I was extremely hungover so I may not have noticed immediately. And I was still in transition. So there's that. My only advice is lots of sunscreen, and long sleeves and pants all the times. The darker the material, the better. And layers! Sunlight has a harder time filtering through layers.

Here's one from @chun.li.kix6: I've heard a term going around “fang-raped”. What do you think of it?

Short answer: I fucking hate it.

Long answer: I reeeeeaaaaaaallly fucking hate it.

Next question from @ivegotthemeats813: have you noticed a spike in your...you know. Sex drive?

No. I was always a horndog. Added stress requires added release. I fuck more because I would rather not cry more.

An annoying ass question because I don't discriminate from @gangofhens10: It was very difficult to understand you in your last cast. Could you record it again with less slang?

Not if you paid me. Ole bum ass. Ole “i can't understand black talk” face ass hoe. No offense to real ass hoes though.

So that's it for questions and updates for today! Catch me here same time and place next week.

Remember to moisturize and hydrate *wink wink*

I love you all.

Love Tique.

[megbox]

2018 Year In Review

Previous Posts: (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 

2018 has not been a banner year for self care. It has not been a banner year for much of anything, to be honest. This year in review will be much less colourful and exciting than they traditionally tend to be. It has been a year of hard work, stress, and feeling the pressure of the less-fun parts of adulthood creeping up on me. It has been really hard, to be totally honest. I have spent the majority of the year in a deep state of exhaustion and distress. There are positives within it all, though. Big positives, such as: 

I went on my longest trip ever away from home. 

I have developed so much in the professional sense and have fallen so deeply in love with social work and my future career path. 

I have made new friends who reflect these changing influences in my life, and the enduring friendships that have survived all of these years continue to strengthen and deepen as time goes on. 

January: 

Tell me - why does January always suck? 2018 began with an opening double shift on New Year’s Day, which I feel is strongly symbolic of the year as a whole because you have an exhausted Megan struggling to responsibly balance my professional responsibilities, self-care, and partying. On January 3rd, Alex and I booked our flights to Asia and in doing so, solidified that we were going through with a plan made drunkenly over the table last summer at a karaoke bar. 

I did get to spend an awesome ski weekend with Alesta, Sydney x 2, and Shelby. It was especially nice because this particular group of people had never spent time all together - we were just united by being a group of girls who love to ski. We hit Lake Louise on Saturday, stayed overnight at a hostel in Banff, and Alesta and I hit Sunshine on Sunday. In Banff, we got a free jug of sangria because we are cute girls. We went to High Rollers and Sydney was drinking IPAs and porters like a pro. I went alone (like... what? Who am I? How drunk was I?) to Dancing Sasquatch after and made friends with some Nova Scotians in line. One of them paid for my cover and bought me not one but two of those infamous Time Machine drinks and extra bonus - Alesta and I got FREE lift passes at Sunshine. 

At the end of the month, my mental health took a sharp nosedive into oblivion and I don’t even really know why. I started experiencing a violent resurgence of something I haven’t felt since the end of the 12th grade, having what I now recognize as panic attacks. The first one came when I was studying on a Sunday at Higher Ground and I had no idea what the fuck was happening, I’d been there for several hours when I suddenly felt the urge to throw up. I packed up all my shit and burst out the door literally gasping for air but ended up being fine. Just shaky and confused. They started happening more frequently after this, with no predictable trigger, and I started to feel the physical manifestations of stress. That was new and it freaked me out. This lent itself to a lot of strange patterns around eating (since I was constantly feeling nauseous, or I thought I was, I didn’t want to have a full stomach. I also thought I had a food intolerance, and because I’m me was 100% convinced I was pregnant because the stress caused me to miss my period). 

February 

Things started to get so bad in February that I had to plead my manager at Famoso for less hours. He was an idiot in general but also did not seem to grasp the severity of what I told him. He would frequently schedule me for these long swing swifts all weekend long, leaving no time or energy for the mountains of homework I had to do. It did not help. 

February was especially busy with school. That’ll be a recurring theme throughout this year. It could honestly be a summary of this entire year - so I’ll spare you the details. But five courses at the University of Calgary is no joke. 

I never needed reading week so badly in my entire life. I was beyond happy to just be able to take a long weekend and not be at Famoso. Shelby arranged for a giant group of her friends to spend the weekend at her friend Sawyer’s massive, absolutely beautiful cabin in Invermere. I got to spend some quality time with two of my favourite people on the planet - Emma and Sydney. From the minute we got into Emma’s car together, to having ciders at the Emerald Lake Lodge on the way, to eating A&W and sharing a bed and “she gon’ fuck the fridge.” Sydney and I spent one afternoon on homework while everyone else went skiing and I was with her when she got the news that she’d won this massive grant and we celebrated by sitting in this magical massage chair and just loving life. We played Drink, Talk, Learn! And I gave a drunken presentation on the history and etiology of pugs. Emma and I went skating on Lake Windermere to cure our hangovers on Sunday. A keg and a bonfire were involved. It was so Canadian, honestly LOL. And so perfect. 

March 

Although I was still struggling with this weird panic-nausea cycle, it lessened through March as more and more assignments were completed. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to use a cliche. I gave three presentations in a week, I remember that being particularly awful. 

I attempted Mellow March for the second time and once again failed. Mildly concerning. I caved on a Wednesday wing night with the Famoso friends. It was 27 days in. So close, so close. 2019 will be my year! 

I started getting really into podcasts at this time because I started commuting using public transit. I got really into Guys We Fucked (which I still love), and This Is Actually Happening. TIAH is kind of fucked up though, and after a while it started to fuck me up. I would have weird dreams about the content and I started becoming paranoid that there was something wrong/extraordinary about me. So I stopped. I guess that is something I have learned about myself this year, is that even when it’s not overt, I am really deeply effected by some of the things I learn. Typically, people of this nature do not excel in the field of social work so allow me to flag this as a place for improvement in the future.

I ran the 5km at the St. Patrick’s Day road race, which was awesome and I won the draw that everyone was entered in and got a FREE pair of these super nice, hot pink New Balance running shoes that I now cherish with my life. 

I had my first round of practicum interviews, which only ended up being one interview because I was offered the placement at CommunityWise before I could interview anywhere else. This is one of the best things to happen the whole year :) 

And a special moment for me as well was on March 31, I got to see Alvvays live. 

April 

In April, I finished hell semester and immediately jetted off to Thailand.

From the get go, the trip was a bit of a shit show. This was my second time to Asia, and my first experience with really planning a trip including flights, hostels, and transportation from place to place without the aid of a tour guide or travel company. We had a time even getting to Bangkok due to an untimely snow storm the day of our departure that forced our flight to Vancouver to be late and causing us to miss our connecting flight to China. After two hours in line at the Air Canada desk, an agent produced a new itinerary for us. Calgary to Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Bangkok. He printed the sheets out and when I looked at the times on the paper, the mental math wasn’t adding up. With me, the mental math never really adds up but this time it seemed impossible that we could leave so much later than planned for our trip and arrive in Bangkok only three hours later than we were supposed to. I brought this up with him and he assured me it was fine. I wasn’t satisfied though, and asked a bunch of other airport personnel the same question. They all said we were fine but lo and behold, we land in Hong Kong and are waiting for the Thai Airlines desk to open so we can retrieve the tickets for the last leg of the journey when the agent there tells us, “They put you on the flight that left yesterday.” Anger and distress ensues. I call Air Canada from the airport in Hong Kong and the call drops. I’m straight up crying on the floor at this point. But in the end – we fucking made it.

In Bangkok, I was welcomed back to the stifling heat and humidity of Asia. We met American doctors-to-be who were at the end of their trip and were totally sick of one another and were very happy to have company. We ate massaman curry for every meal, partied on Khao San Road (those nitrous balloons!!! God, they’re so fun!!), and spent a lot of money on a single cocktail just for a photo op at the top of a skyscraper but the sunset was perfect and it was totally worth it.

In Chiang Mai we drank Sangsom and Coca-Cola by the pool and ate street food out of Styrofoam containers. We met these Americans who were teaching English in Chiang Mai and they took us to a night club on the back of their motorbikes. I did a drug I said I’ve never do in one of the bathrooms at this night club and ended up going home with one of the aforementioned teachers. It was funny to me because at about 3:00pm, Alex and I went back to our hostel to change and get ready for the evening and at that point I said, “I think I’m going to end up hooking up with Cory.” I fucking knew. I KNEW.

In Pai, I had the DIRTIEST hostel experience of my life. I was showering… just fully naked and vulnerable in this nasty ass shower when I saw a bug I did not recognize from my sheltered upbringing crawl out of a hole in the wall. I have never felt more small. It was also 43 degrees and we were staying in a tiny hut with a plug-in fan that only worked half the time and somehow had the effect of making the room hotter? Pai was also the first time we rented motorbikes. It’s honestly so dangerous… like, what the fuck, Thailand. We experienced our first flash rainstorm. We went to a place called Sunset Bar and took mushroom shakes and holy shit I’ve never experienced more potent mushrooms in my entire life. We met our Irish friends who we’d later see in Koh Pha Ngan, and I slept with an Israeli soldier on our second-to-last night and I’m almost 100% certain I took his virginity.

Koh Pha Ngan was alllll thunderstorms. We also decided to splurge a bit on food on this island and gorged ourselves with seafood and lavender Moscow mules at this nice restaurant down the road from our hostel. We partied so hard. We went to the pre-parties for the Full Moon – they have the Waterfall party two nights before, and the Jungle party the night before. I had sex with a total stranger at the Waterfall party up against a rock (when I recounted this story to Steven upon returning home he put on a redneck accent and said, “C’mon baby let me take you down to the fuck rock” and now that’s all I hear when I think about this experience in my head). The Full Moon Party was fun but not AS fun as the pre parties. It wasn’t as wild and the beach is so big but everyone concentrates in one little area. I took some kind of mystery pill (as you can see, I was very safe in Thailand) and had yet another sexual experience with a casual partner. I also witnessed a fight in the taxi back because one girl called another girl a stripper. It was bad.

May 

Continuing on with our Asia trip.

We landed in Krabi and intended fully to chill out a little bit after the wildness of Koh Pha Ngan. The first night was chill, we were staying in the Muslim quarter of the Krabi area so there weren’t a ton of nightclubs to go to and the hostel had some kind of run-in with police and weren’t able to take us out on the pub crawl we signed up for (lame). We had a roommate from Vancouver on the second day who bought a bunch of Xanax from a Thai pharmacy and gave me one. I can never do it again because it was so. good. But of course, I took one pill and stopped drinking just in case. This bitch continued drinking and took six or seven Xanax throughout the night. I honestly don’t know how she lived. We went rock climbing and drank beers on a boat tour one day and it was soooo great. We had the hottest tour guide. I did a hike by my lonesome that I nearly died on.

On the ferry ride from Krabi to Koh Phi Phi is where I got the sunburn that will likely give me skin cancer in later life and kill me. 90 minutes on the outside deck of a ferry (because I felt nauseous as fuck and didn’t want to vom in the cabin) absolutely fucked. me. up. We stayed at another pretty fucking gross hostel in Koh Phi Phi, and my roommates were all male which was a new experience for me. I went on a solo booze cruise cause Alex was sick. We took mushrooms again with our Canadian friend Kelsey and god, I was laughing so hard I was crying and I could not stop. I was like rolling around in the sand laughing so fucking hard about Fisherman’s Friends candy. It was so blissful. So pure.

And then… the sickness. This is going to be TMI but… fuck it. A bit of indigestion and stomach trouble is expected whenever a white person enters Asia. Different microbes etc. etc. But this… this was on a new fucking level. I knew something was up because on the morning that we woke up to take our ferry from Koh Phi Phi to Phuket, I vomited. And I never vomit, and I wasn’t that hungover (especially in relation to much of the rest of the trip). I felt okay afterwards though so we soldiered on. Three hour ferry ride, totally fine. We board our bus that will take us from the ferry port in Phuket to our hotel and about halfway through this bus ride, I feel it. I am wearing overalls. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest, sweat begins to bead on my forehead. Holy fuck, I am going to shit my pants. I clench until we get to the hostel – which is, of course, the last stop. It’s like a solid 45 minutes of pain. My stomach is ROILING. I have never felt anything like it.

I honestly know nothing about Phuket because I spent the entire 72 hours we were there running from my bunk bed to the bathroom. I would go so far as to say every ten minutes. At one point, I just brought my laptop into the washroom with me and watched Netflix for a few hours. A roommate who was with us switched rooms (understandably… I’m sorry, Helen). I didn’t eat for four days, literally not a fucking thing. Just Gatorade and water so that I didn’t die of dehydration. Because we had an airplane to catch and I needed to not be shitting the contents of my body out, I saw a doctor. He prescribed me like five different medications and told me just to take like eight of these pills and to expect stomach pain but it would at least get me through the flight to Seoul and hopefully home.

It worked, and we spent the last few days of our trip in Seoul. What an absolutely fascinating and beautiful part of the world. With Kieun as our guide, we got to see the best parts of Seoul. People took photos with us and gave us free shit. I had the absolute best meal of my life (it was the first thing I’d eaten in like four days… I really risked it all with the Korean barbecue honestly…). All-you-can-eat thick fatty slices of pork belly, grilled in front of us and dipped in sesame oil and salt with garlic and spices. Spicy chicken feet on the side, corn with cheese. It was wild. I cannot believe I stomached it.

And on May 12th, we returned home back to our lives and school and work and all of that boring ass shit. I remained ill for a solid six weeks upon returning home. To a lesser degree, I still have not fully recovered. At this point, I am unsure if I ever will. I truly think that second-round Asia gave me skin cancer and permanently altered my gastrointestinal functioning. Worth it? Unsure. But it happened nonetheless.

June 

My brother graduated from university and won a very prestigious award and it was very nice to watch him cross the stage and hear a nice speech about his accomplishments (he won so many scholarships that he basically had a free ride to school – I think it’s clear who inherited the brains).

I finished up my spring courses. Can I just say - spring courses are the worst? The two I picked were especially bad. The one about human sexuality was basically Sex Ed 101 which made for an easy A but I was hoping to investigate deeper on a number of topics. And the second one was way too hard for my tiny brain to accommodate and I got the lowest mark I’ve ever gotten on my paper and it brought me down.

I had a very random unexpected night where I slept with a really close friend of mine (like, friends for over a decade) who I used to have a little bit of a crush on in high school. We were very drunk and it was kind of a curiosity-satisfying move that has actually not resulted in a very big change to our relationship at all but I think it’s worth mentioning because younger me would have been stoked. This one’s for you, younger me!

We went to the High River Rodeo and Cabaret – another unexpected move but oh my god it was so fun. Matt, Steven, Amanda and I. You could buy as many beers as you wanted at a time and they were cheap because fuck the AGLC apparently. The rodeo was actually super fun. The cabaret was redneck af and I happened to see my roommate from the hostel in Koh Phi Phi and his buddies there? Although it was not a friendly reunion because I had unknowingly exposed him for cheating on his girlfriend when he was in Phi Phi (which he did. I shared a room with him, and the girl he loudly banged every night until 4am). Two-stepping ensued and I passed out in the car ride home. I have a great photo of Steven from this night next to a bottle of hot sauce. I do not recall why. I will include it below. 

July 

Okay, I am just going to preface this by saying July was a hot mess. 

Myself, Madison, Maeghan, and Cayley were all single and messing around on dating apps so we decided to create Tinder bingo. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The rules were that you could only cross off two things per date (so that you had to go on a minimum of three to win), you got bonus points for going on a Tinder date with the same person someone else had gone out with, and the first to win got their drinks paid for on a night out. So, I went on exactly one Tinder date. Which is something I said I’ve never do and never really saw myself doing but I went for it on this occasion because I think that in this day and age, a Tinder date is an experience everyone should have. So I bit the bullet, and went for a drink with this guy James at the Oak Tree Tavern. And oh... my god? What a terrible experience? LAUGHABLY terrible. His only desired topic of conversation were the nationalities of people I had slept with and in what circumstances. At one point he asked me, “when was the last time you had sex? Was it good?” He also talked at maximum volume and I guarantee you everyone else at that bar overheard our conversation. Midway through the date, he asked for a review of how he was doing and I told him he seemed a bit nervous. This angered him. He said, “I’M NOT NERVOUS” and I was like, “you asked, buddy.” He asked me if I would pay for him. Cayley literally had to come rescue me and I ran out of his car where he had unbuttoned his pants and had his dick out and was literally on the verge of tears begging me to touch it so hard. I literally bolted out of his car and he yelled out the window, “CALL ME!” He still hits me up on instagram sometimes. I hope his life gets better. 

I also moved again. This is my favourite living situation I’ve ever had. Great roommates who are almost never home. Cute house. Good location. A+ choice by me. 

I got really obsessed with the Thai cave rescue. It was just such a compelling and unique STORY and I would literally come home from work and refresh the BBC live update feed for hours until I fell asleep, then I’d wake up and refresh hoping for good news. I cannot wait for the movie. I will go opening day. #Obsessions 

Stampede!!! Oh my god, what a wonderful Stampede. The most memorable thing is that Steven and I went to the standing rodeo one afternoon and got absolutely. fucking. hammered. Whilst there, we met and befriended two Australian retirees named Lyn and Ken. They are rich and are obsessed with horseriding and rodeo stuff. They purchased many drinks for us and we convinced them to come to Nashville North with us, where they purchased MORE drinks for us and Steven attempted to show them how to two-step. They later invited me to go horseback riding in Banff and I accepted. They literally picked me up, drove me to Banff, we crushed two bottles of wine at the Park gin distillery, went on a three-hour horseback ride through the mountains, they drove me home and I paid for NONE OF IT. It was........ a day. I sat on my bed later and thought to myself, “that was fucking weird.” But now, if I ever go to Melbourne, I will hit them up. 

It was Ali’s birthday and we went camping in Waiparous. We took mushrooms on Saturday and just as they were beginning to fully kick in, the RCMP rolled in and kicked us out of our campsite. What a wild time to be faced with an interaction with the cops. Also - no one could drive except for two people who had stayed sober and they had to shuttle us to a new campsite. Have you ever tried setting up a tent on mushrooms? Do you know how difficult and hilarious it is? 

And lastly at the end of July, I went to Folk Fest. I saw Alvvays again. Front row! Like, against the barrier front row. It was awesome. It was folk fest that inspired me to cut my hair and get bangs again. No regrets. I love my bangs. I also experienced a level of street harassment that I didn’t know was possible from some random, innocent-seeming guy. It was terrifying. I called the police. No bueno. 

August 

In August, I got promoted at my job and basically became a baby manager. It was better in theory than in practice because my shifts got longer, I made less in tips (but more hourly), and the cash out for a restaurant is a long and frustrating process that depends on a lot of small pieces working together correctly in a big ass spreadsheet and I suck at math.

In happier news – August was also the establishment of podcast club. Podcast club is one of the best and dorkiest things I have ever been involved with. We pick a podcast each week to listen to, and get together on Sunday mornings at 10:00am to discuss the contents of the podcast. It was initially open to whomever wanted to come but has since whittled down to a core group and at this point, we’re all so close that it would almost be weird to introduce a new person into the mix. There is Kendal, who I go to school with and who started the whole club. Her boyfriend, Mitch. Lachlan and Maddy who are siblings. Matt, a YouTuber who was kind of a wildcard. Chad, also kind of a wildcard but who works as a youth counsellor – and me! Podcast club has made my life infinitely better and is probably the best thing to come out of 2018, in all honesty.

I also got obsessed with Harry Potter and read like almost the whole series and my new at the time roommates thought I was such a loser because I would literally post up on the couch in the living room with a HP book and they would come back five hours later and I hadn’t moved and all I wanted to talk about was Harry Potter. 

September / October / November 

I am lumping these three months together in this review because truly, they are lumped together in my mind and heart. 

On September 11, I started my first practicum at CommunityWise. I really had no idea what to expect when I started there but looking back, I cannot believe how hard I lucked out. The U of C is VERY clinically-based when it comes to how it educates and describes the practice of social work. CW was the opposite of it all and day-to-day so much happens there that it is honestly impossible not to get dragged in at such a deep level that it literally forces you to care. When I was in practicum, I did a lot of reading and I came across this concept of a “disorienting dilemma” which is “an experience within which a current understanding is found to be insufficient or incorrect and the learner struggles with the resulting conflict of views. Such experiences often are those to which learners point as the beginning of the process of questioning their understanding and views and entering the transformative learning process” (Source). Truly, being in that space over the course of 300 hours created this for me. I was forced to confront a lot of racist and otherwise problematic shit that I have been brought up with and that comes up in small ways for me that I try and quash down for the sake of saving face. Poverty, addiction, mental health issues showed up LITERALLY on the doorstep and I was thrown into it all. The experience was a disorienting dilemma and it shook me out of my bubble and I have never fallen so deeply in love with social work. My supervisor and I formed a VERY close relationship that probably broke some ethical and professional boundaries and she was there for me to discuss social issues and experiences I was having in an honest way that really deconstructed things. I had my debit card stolen by a client on one occasion, had to call the DOAP team because I witnessed people in overdose more times than I can count, had to talk many a person down from suicide, befriended a very mentally ill person who suffers from delusions that they are an alien in a human body sent here to observe earth and report back to their master. We had to kick someone out of a workshop for being racist. It was a wild ride, honestly. There were many many positive things to come out of practicum. I built my professional network in ways I never would have been able to, I was able to move out of the “student” realm and step into the role of a social worker and advocate and professional. I did a lot of public speaking! I was out in the community talking to a million different people. I made videos and posters. And the best part of all is that even when my practicum ended, my connection to CW did not. They have hired me on as a digital storytelling intern (paid!) for the new year. Which is a major confidence boost and I just love CW and everyone there so much. I will literally be forever grateful to them for taking me under their collective wing and showing me I have the skills and abilities to be an effective social worker :) 

Ahem. Now on to some not-so-good things... 

The end of October was kind of difficult because I was attempting to manage practicum responsibilities, actual class projects and homework, second-round practicum interviews, and Famoso. I was very stressed out and it was not good, especially because I got a rejection from one interview and didn’t even get an interview at my top choice. I was feeling very sorry for myself and may or may not have cried at my desk at practicum. It all worked out in the end though, and actually I was offered a placement at the first place I interviewed – they just took a while to get back to me. She called me to let me know this while I was on a run and being idiot me, I picked up… panting and gasping for air in Nose Hill Park. She was like, “We’d like to offer you the place… wait, are you okay?”

I would also like to just slide it in here that I slept with my ex in October. Which wasn’t a particularly momentous occasion and was actually kind of funny because it felt so much like a one night stand. I am mostly putting this in here because I don’t think many people know that and I want to see who reads this far.

Along similarish lines – I PUT MYSELF OUT THERE AND ASKED SOMEONE ON A STRAIGHT UP DATE AND GOT REJECTED AND IT WAS HONESTLY SO EMBARASSING AND BRUTAL and it’s okay now but oh… my god. This also happened around the same time as the rejections from practicum placements and I had such a bad night where I got drunk on my couch alone and Cayley brought me burnt ends from her new job at a brewery because she was #concerned for me and I didn’t want to be alone. That’s a true friend right there.

December 

December is only halfway done - but I feel I can summarize it accurately. It has been a nice, tidy wrap up to the year. A month of podcasts, cleaning my house and my car and my life up, a mysterious knee injury that is really fucking me up, working a lot at Famoso, finishing my practicum and school semester. One thing I am dreading is that my brother’s girlfriend who our family is not particularly fond of will be joining us in Saskatoon this year. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. 

In General 

2018 has been very stressful for me. But despite the stress, and sometimes out of it, have come some very nice, beautiful things. I said last year in my post that I wanted to become more deeply involved in my community and in activism and social work and in that way I think I have excelled. I’m in it now, you guys. I feel capable. I feel motivated. I feel CONFIDENT. And I’m fucking excited to see what comes in the future. 

I nearly doubled the amount of people I’ve slept with so that’s... a notable thing that happened this year. 

It has been nice to feel a return to a sense of belonging with my old high school group of friends. In a way, I feel more united with them than ever. I guess not having a partner that they all hate helps. But also, I think I’ve just been feeling more and more like myself. But to Connor, Steven, Matt, Adam and the assortment of new(er) members that come and go - I am very grateful for you all. It has also been good for my heart and soul to become so close with people from podcast club. It’s actually like... really hard to make new friends. Podcast club made it easy. And I found myself on a Friday night in Maddy and Ben’s apartment, watching cooking shows and teaching them how to play card games, laughing until I cried and drinking wine. And it’s like... who else gets together on EVERY Sunday morning to discuss podcasts? For fun? I know relationships change and dissolve and grow from each year to the next but I just have a deep feeling that some of these friendships are the real deal. And I’m really lucky. It sounds so ~fake deep~ and lame but honestly podcast club is making me a better, happier, less anxious person. 

2019: 

I think 2019 is going to have to be the year that I really, truly grow the fuck up. I’m not mad about this. I look forward to crushing through 400 more hours of practicum, graduating and getting my degree. Hopefully entering the work force for real (this prospect is honestly so exciting to me... I creep the job boards every day daydreaming about what I might eventually do when I leave the world of waitressing) and making some adult money. 

I also like... totally got fat in 2018 so 2019 will involve some activities to counterbalance this. AND I have a ticket to Big Valley Jamboree. Which is hilarious because I think if you asked 2015 Megan what she’d never do, it would be “go to BVJ” but here I am, ticket in hand, excitement mounting by the day. Boots on, bitches. 

Some of my goals or things I’d like to work on in 2019 are to become less attached to social media and more invested in the actual moment/doing of things rather than recording them (ironic as I type this MASSIVE year in review post, yes), to get into a healthy and sustainable pattern of exercise where I don’t just like become obsessed with it for a little while and then slowly taper off and then do none of it for like six months... and honestly? I want to download a bunch of those dating apps again and just go for it. I think you can learn so much about yourself through dating and I’ve been such a recluse this year for the most part because I have been sort-of-but-not seeing someone since literally JULY but we’re not actually together and I don’t know what’s going on. I just need to get over my own insecurities and anxiety and just jump in with both feet. It’ll be fun. It’ll be crazy. I’m excited. 

The rest of it, as always, is an open book. Who knows where I will be, what I will be doing, or who I will be doing it with by this time next year? Not I. 

[trans-gothic]

Day 75: Self, Body, Literature (The Worst Queer)

I came up with the title for this post while I was reading earlier and can no longer remember everything exactly that I wanted to write about.

Okay, so I have been reading Nevada by Imogen Binnie. My trans friend (tm) has been bugging me about reading this book ever since we came out to each other following election night last November. I read a little over half of it tonight and while there are parts that I relate to in it, I think I kind of hate it? I cannot fucking stand the main character, Maria. I hate her the way that I hate the guys from On The Road. She’s so vain, so self-mythologizing, so horrible to everyone around her. I know there’s that chapter from Steph’s perspective that pretty much lays out that this is how we’re supposed to see her but still!

I talked to her a little bit about this, but, like, ugh. Here’s the thing. I want a book about queer people that’s not about infidelity and drugs and relationship drama. I want a book where people are queer but it’s not the defining aspect of their character. I hate how there’s always this smug sense of superiority, that all the cishets are slimy garbagepeople. And she was like, “Well, in my experience, uhh...”

And like, y’know what, that’s not my experience. Granted, I am still like, in the baby bat phases of transitioning. However, with the exception of my shitty psychiatrist, I’ve not yet had anyone be terrible to me about it. Even, y’know, trans stuff aside, I’ve never got shit for being bi though granted I am only semi-open about that.

My life has never been anything like stories about queer people always are. Quite frankly, I’m kind of glad about that. Constantly raging against everybody around you just sounds so exhausting. Plus the drugs and parties and shit are just not my scene. Nevada takes a bit of time to try to poke holes in these stereotypes but then also just kind of embraces them? Idk.

This kind of brought me to that place of “am I trans enough to actually be trans?” which Nevada tells me is inevitable and constant in the life of a transwoman. Like, okay, yeah, I get that the point is “you don’t have to fit some certain mold to be trans” but the alternative it presents is still so similar. Like, I dunno. I don’t care about any of this shit that’s supposed to be so important. I don’t actually give a fuck if gender is a social construct or whatever. Like, just shut up and let me transition in peace. Just let me get my goddamn tits already.

I have never been a part of any sort of queer community. Quite frankly, I hope never to be. I don’t want to associate with people just because we’re attracted to the same gender, or just because we both identify with genders other than what we were born as. Yes, I am queer and yes it is an important part of who I am. However, I cannot fucking imagine having so little else that that’s what I would chose to make the cornerstone of my identity.

Maybe all of this will change as I am forced into being more public about my gender and sexuality. I don’t know. I know that I have led a relatively privileged life.

I just want to go back to the goth community I was involved with when I was 16. Well, “community.” It was mostly just me and these two other girls. I was hopelessly, tragically in love with them. Because when you are Fi and you are sixteen everything you do is hopeless and tragic.

I still feel this way, even though I don’t listen to goth music anywhere near as much as I did even a year or two ago. Mostly these days I just listen to podcasts. Sometimes alt-pop (The 1975, Lana Del Rey, Halsey, Melanie Martinez, etc.). I’m trying to get back into goth and black metal and shit. I’m listening to some right now. Fuck, as much as I’ve listened to Against Me!’s album Transgender Dysphoria Blues over the last few months, it’s still, like, this is music I relate to for sure, but it just scratches the surface of who I am. Sopor Aeternus and the early Christian Death and shit all hit closer to home. Shit, give me the good old churchburners like Mayhem. That wild, howling desperation? That is me.

And I feel kind of bad about all of that bullshit I just said. That’s the thing. I always kind of feel w/r/t being queer, and especially w/r/t being trans, like I’m not queer enough, not trans enough. I don’t relate to queer or trans communities. Yes, I have been through similar things. But, like, I feel like that while being bi and being trans are definitely parts of me, they are not who I am. And I feel so guilty about that. I really do feel like I am The Worst Queer for not giving a shit about being part of a community.

So then there’s, like, this feeling that like, sure I’ve always thought of myself as female, sure I’m attracted to both men and women, but maybe I don’t deserve to be bi or trans or whatever. Like maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to take estradiol and spiro because that’s only for people who are part of the capital-letters Trans Community.

I don’t really dress all that goth anymore. I got rid of my early-mid 00′s goth/metal black baggy cargo pants and mostly wear jeans. I no longer wear black leather Chuck Taylors. I don’t wear a ton of jewelry all the time anymore. My ex girlfriend accidentally wrecked my knee-high goth boots (the ones with the lift and the buckles and all that good shit). When she moved out and I found out that they’d been crushed underneath her shit in my closet and the zippers were wrecked, I thought about ordering new ones. Then I realized that I don’t have anywhere that I can wear them anymore. That is so sad.

Fuck me, I have completely lost track of what I was trying to say in all of this. Point is: I want to have tits (and oh god have the growing titlings ached today). I want to not have a cock. I want to wear black dresses and black lipstick. I want to wear boots as high up as they will fucking go. I want to bang my head to Mayhem and Emperor and Nile and Vader. I want to awkwardly goth-sway to The Sisters of Mercy. I don’t want to Be Trans. I want to Have Transitioned. Or better yet Have Been Born Female. I will say this about Nevada, I very much empathize with Maria’s jealousy at ciswomen.

Or maybe I just hate THINKING about being trans and being queer. Maybe I just want to return to a time and place in my life where that wasn’t the most pressing issue in my life. Where I wasn’t living under a ticking timer labelled “WHEN EVERYONE WILL KNOW YOU’RE TRANS.”

I’m sitting here drinking rum and feeling shitty about how I feel about how I am. At the very least, I am listening to Mayhem’s Live In Leipzig (my second favorite live album of all time, after Skinny Puppy’s Ain’t It Dead Yet). And now I just switched over to listening to Ain’t It Dead Yet.

I have no social life right now, so none of this shit matters anyway.