#i hate it here (public health journal)

[anxietyfrappuccino]

i was meant to be an artist not whatever the fuck my technical writing professor is forcing me to be rn (angry, anxiety ridden, and confused)

[itsnotablogsblog]

POPPY AND NOAH A NEW DUO? RUMORS ON DATING? Is this PR or Simply Mediocre?

FANS GETTING HEATED?

POPPY WANTS FAME AND NOTHING ELSE?

Hi, hello. If you are looking at this post, I am solely going to journal this through your social network.

Let me first introduce myself.

I am an anon. But you can call me Maria.

Here on this tumblr is tea spilt over thousands of tweets on twitter.

More so to Poppy and Noah.

Now let’s get the story straight. Poppy. Oh yes that word that echoes through one persons ear, right to the next. But how did she manage to become one of the controversial people that now has a million streams globally?

That’s a question we’re going to answer today.

It seems like a lot of people are heated. More heated than anything else that Bad Omens themselves have been experiencing in this delusional roller coaster of drama for the past few decades.

But why Poppy?

Moriah or Poppy as her nickname developed fame over YouTube. Spilling fame doing nothing but making videos of herself, involving quite a lot of YouTubers along the way.

Though her career was launching, a lot of people seemed to not like her due to various reasons.

Now that she’s with Bad Omens and frontman Noah Sebastian, it seems that she has started a whirlwind of chaos and drama.

But why?

Let’s start with the most popular and most listened song VIOLENCE AGAINST NATURE.

Since it’s mainstream people have been listening to it, and taking their own opinions on it. But it seems the farther it was to promote Poppy’s new album it seems like it was a way to get poppy in the spotlight.

Take it as alleged because we will never know about it.

But back to poppy 😃.

Some say she’s a mediocre artist just searching for attention. Which I agree with the most.

But with Bad Omens that’s something completely different. Front man and lead singer Noah Sebastian chose to write a song and have Poppy play the lead verse and chorus of this song.

But why?

Easy. Ever since their OST DEBUT for their comic book series came out, they chose to and yes chose several and various artists to collaborate with. This included We Are Fury, Erra, HEALTH, and many more.

But something about Poppy stood out than most. Her vibrational voice that just kept people guessing for more. Yet, the outcomes and situations now have escalated more into chaos than anything else.

Now that she drove back to the social media and social platform of fame once again, it seems like she’s leaning more on Bad Omens than her own personal album.

Why?

To promote her albums, so she can get the spotlight she always wanted. Although I highly hate this. To say.

But why Noah Sebastian?

Does she have something that she likes about him? Or is it just to get Noah’s fame and attention? More so to get it away from Bad Omens. Causing a whirlwind of controversy.

As for many of us we know Bad Omens didn’t get the easy fame most people would expect right away. Not until their third album “THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND.”

Came out.

Millions of streams and over 165 streams on Spotify, with a golden record now on hold. It seems to me their 10 year contract with Sumerian Records that somehow Sumerian made them more attracted to the public audience in less than a week.

Now with Poppy being involved and involving herself with Bad Omens seems to be causing a lot more problems.

To the extent where Bad Omens might be blocking fans due to the extent of hating on Poppy more than anything in this world.

So is it really a PR Stunt?

To me it definitely seems and looks like it.

But why are fans heated over such a popular figure and now public figure? Noah Sebastian?

It’s an easy answer. Because people are taking it way too far and personal that it seems as if they only want Noah’s face on every cover except for Poppy.

Either way this has caused rumors on them dating whether or not this is true, Poppy made and asked her way towards the metal scene.

This wasn’t due to dating Noah Sebastian.

She wants the same thing as Noah. To be famous. So where do these fans have against it?

Easy.

She’s just not built for it.

It’s driving people insane, to where they’re just sick of seeing Poppy’s face all over the place. Whether or not it’s with Noah, or herself alone.

Noah’s New Potential and “New Partner”

Now this leads to people even saying that they’re excluding the rest of the band. Including Nick Folio, Nicholas Ruffilo, and Jolly or Joakim Karlsson.

In which RockSound included a magazine with just Poppy and Noah on the front cover.

Now that’s a whirlwind of fucking chaos. From various people stating that the band is breaking up, to Poppy and Noah dating.

Listen. I’m just here to spill the tea here. Noah and Poppy aren’t dating. She wants clout and attention.

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing. Which is oddly ironic considering this mediocre woman finds and slithers her way to fortune.

But anyways.

What do you guys think?

Personally, I think it’s just complete nonsense and waste of time.

I mean my only question is why would Noah Sebastian himself actually want to work with Poppy???

Is she something special?

[strangebiology]

How Funding Affected my Journalism Jobs

The different places I’ve worked as a journalist, and in related fields, have all had different funding. Here are my experiences at different places–and it seems to me that grant-funded stuff is the best. 

Internship at Nat Geo

Grants sponsored both of the other interns, but not me. Nat Geo makes a lot of its money through things like books at TV.

Mine was low-paid, but probably normal for an internship in 2016? LOVED the experience. Freelance at Nat Geo afterward was MUCH better paid. $14/hour part-time. IDK how much the grant-funded interns made. 2016.

Fellowship at PBS Newshour

A grant from the National Science Foundation funded me, but PBS is state-sponsored media. Interestingly, that’s a huge red flag in China and Russia, but I found the US-funded Public Broadcasting Service very fair to its subjects. Good experience, but even worse pay, at $13/hour full-time. 2016-2017

Job at Newsweek 

Their funding is from clicks. This place was crazy bad and paid garbage. Everyone hated it and almost everyone quit, unless they were being fired for making a living wage. Some people even got fired for accurately reporting on the company itself on assignment from their editors–there was no obscuring it, that was cited as their reason for termitation. Newsweek is Hellfire and damnation. I suspect the nonsense demand for 5 stories/day/person and silly demand that we make them go viral stemmed from the following: the fact that the company primarily made its money from clicks and higher-ups didn’t appear to care about the long-term reputation of the company or its reporters, and perhaps an ego-fueled refusal to try to understand what actually got clicks. $39k/year. 2017-2018

Freelance at VOX 

Funded by clicks/ads and grants at the time, but halfway through they started a contribution campaign. The difference I noticed between VOX and Newsweek was that VOX practices were smarter and they actually paid attention to analytics and sane business practices. Also, it's much easier to qualify for and get grants if you're actually doing good journalism, so I don't believe that Newsweek's policy of "lots of garbage" was actually business-savvy in any way.

Vox was a good experience, even though I wasn’t working as a journalist, but doing SEO/social media for journalists. $35/hour, then $50/hour part-time. Then I was laid off due to the pandemic. 2019-2020

Freelance at Alzheimer's Association 

Remote, not really journalism, but I liked it anyway. Nonprofit, so, funded by donations and grants. $65/hour part-time. 2021

Job at Bay Nature

My job was entirely funded by a grant. Odd situation–I got the grant and I could bring it to any legit journalism employer. Bay Nature was supposed to contribute 40% of my salary but flexibility happened and they just paid health insurance and such. They got basically no money at all from clicks, like, pennies a year. Not much from subscriptions. They have fundraisers, and at the time, there were 3 writers/editors and 2 fundraisers on staff. Later they hired another writer whose entire salary was paid by a philanthropist, and then I’m told they got another salary funded by a UC Berkeley journalism grant program. So, like half of their editorial staff was grant-funded.

Great experience, but low pay for the Bay Area. $50k/year, all from Poynter-Koch, 2021-2022.

Freelance at Politifact

A nonprofit and they probably get lots of grants. My particular position was also funded by a grant entirely. Loved it. $250/article fact check. 2022. 

Book

REALLY love it. $50k is from MIT Press, which is a not-for-profit, and it gets some grants and endowments. Then I got $56k from a grant from the Sloan Foundation on top. 

Future? 

I also got $500 (plus gas and hotels) to attend a day of learning with a program called Investing in Wyoming’s Creative Economy, and that means I’m one of 100 people eligible to apply for 10 $25k grants for future projects. The idea is to support creatives to stay in Wyoming and have sustainable businesses here. Maybe do some art that will bring in tourists. 

_____________________

Note that a grant sort of does, and sort of doesn’t, mean free money. It means money to support a project that usually has to have a mission and a public good, like educating the public. You don’t pay these back, and the org giving the grants doesn’t require a percentage of the profits or anything. But, for instance, the $50k grant from Poynter-Koch was more like a gift to Bay Nature, so they could pay me, and I worked for a year to actually have the funds. 

However, I’m not yet convinced that there is any objectively good funding model to ensure the most fair and accurate journalism. In theory, the capitalistic ones would be the best, but the public desire to read inflammatory stories about how their political enemies are evil, or a different generation is full of idiots, adversely affected the accuracy of headlines at Newsweek IMO.

You might think that the worst funding source would be Poynter-Koch, which is a program run by Poynter and funded by the Charles Koch Institute. But neither Poynter nor Koch even asked me to tell them what I was writing, let alone try to stop me from writing it. (Poynter hosted mentor-led auxiliary groups to talk about our careers/lives and such, so the topics of our articles came up sometimes if we chose to share that.) 

Anyway, I’m thinking of writing an article on how funding models affect journalism, for better and worse. There are some high-profile examples of grant funding causing harm. But for now, the above is my experience–pretty much all good, except not enough funding sometimes. 

[zodiacstarlight]

@superbiaamoris

Responding to your comments.

You're right. I don't know you and based on what you've posted with all the vitriol and hate because of something that happened "6 or 7 years ago". You know. It's funny. I was bored on day and decided to look you up. your KF thread came up which had a lot of information on it. and then your dA came up, (including archived dA links of posts you made). The ONLY people who mention your BS drama is YOU. Why don't you get that? There is only 2 people who talk about it: YOU and KF. KF are trolls, they are going to feed off your reactions so that tracks. BUT YOU keep giving them that reaction. YOu are like a fucking buffet of attention for the KF trolls. (slow claps)

Anyways. Yeah. you're right. I don't know you. Based on everything you've posted I wouldn't WANT to know you because You're not a good person at all. You don't know how to let SHIT GO and you make a mountain out of an ant hill. You legit make shit worse for yourself.

Only reason for my reaction was your action. (cause and effect. You learn that shit in highschool.) I was treating you with human decency with MY FIRST couple of comments. It was you who set the tone of this.

As for my statement about weeping for your future if you reproduce. Here's a question: Based on your mental health, physical and emotional health - can you say that you would be a FIT mother? Can you say that you would be able to provide an innocent child with the love, care and devotion it would take? IMO - no. Not with everything you have apparently "wrong" with you. NOT when you let ONLINE BS GET TO YOU and don't know how to step away from a computer and go touch grass.

"How dare you say it to me?" The internet is a harsh place. Not everyone is going to cater to your needs. You will be forced to have to deal with the negative and the hate you get that you put out. So, Hi. I'm Karma. :D Pleased to meet you.

I have disrespected you for the last couple of posts. WTF are you going to do about it other than "block" me. Oh no. Poor little snowflake is angy that she got her fee fees hurt. Your idol threats don't scare me. Like the KF trolls/threads, You have ZERO POWER or AUTHORITY over me. And besides. You don't know who I am. I could be one of your inner circle (and regardless if you ask, that inner circle will always say "it's not me") , I could be a part of your server (but the last time I checked your server was DEAD with only YOU in it. I could be in one of the other servers you're in, again. You'll never know because no one will admit to shit.

I have never once called you fat or ugly. I have however said you shouldn't reproduce, again. I don't believe you would be a FIT and stable mother for a child of any age.

I actually do have respect for those who have mental, physical or emotional issues; diagnosis. What I don't respect is those who use those same medical conditions as excuses for their behavior and being so ENTITLED they claim they "deserve" respect when they haven't given any to anyone else. (posting things from a private convo and making it public, try to spit facts - siting resources that aren't really "legit", trying to blame everyone else for the shit your in)

Please don't pray. With all disrespect to YOU emily. god doesn't exist here.

"that you get a reality check that I am giving you REAL quick before you join ANY communities. because people WILL (think you meant only to put 1 will there) attack your attitude and make you into the demon you claim I am."

Really? I'd love to meet this army of yours. Let's take a look at a couple of things shall we?

Your deviantart page has 230 watchers. You have 89 deviations and 21.7K pageviews. Your status/journal posts 720 posts & 99.99% of that is JUST DRAMA related.

Out of the 230 watchers you have. Only legit 1.5% favs your art, .5% comments on your status/journal posts.

I find it funny, when I don’t IMMEDIATELY respond to you that You apparently “won” and “called” me out. And supposedly “put” me in my “place”. Seriously?

You sleep right? You know others SLEEP or have other shit to do RIGHT? We have lives outside the net and kf threads. Just because we are not responding to your numerous dribble in a matter of nano seconds. Doesn’t mean that You put us in our places, that you “shut” us up, or that you won anything.

The ONLY thing you have proved after your DRAMATIC post about not contacting you regarding drama, not responding and that you “want to move on”. is that you THRIVE on the negative drama. You LOVE the attention because that means the SPOTLIGHT is on YOU and no one else. You try to FORCE people to watch your videos. The only you've "forced" us to do is click on the video and put a dislike on it and Report it for copyright infringement. You've been using songs that are not provided FREE from youtube but from a streaming site with NO CREDIT and/or PERMISSION from the artist to use their sounds. (I've seen people get copyright strikes for doing that).

You've been told several times, by several people, even a dA senior member on HOW to stop the Trolls from coming at you.

You don't do it. You just continue. Under the guise of YOU "defending" yourself and "humbling trolls" and my favorite "Trolling the trolls" when in reality you thrive on it. you probably get off on it because it gives you that "high" you need to survive the rest of the night.

[taralen]

Information

𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘!

I am a fantasy artist and writer based in the USA. This blog is mostly for my art and for sharing others' art. Sometimes, I'll post writings, musings, or theories about a work of fiction that I think warrants some in-depth analysis. I don't have any separate blogs, as I don't see the point in making them. I struggle with a lot of mental health conditions, so I'm really unstable but congenial. Hope you don't mind! Trust me, I am no threat to the public at large! I love making others laugh and smile, so why not just laugh at me, with me? The subject of this blog is primarily art and writing. I do not repost memes if they have nothing to do with either of these two categories.

If you're looking for specific tags, please use this guide:

#my art - Use this tag to filter posts showing only stuff drawn by me

#my writing - Similar to the above but just for writing I've done.

#musings - Random thoughts, journal posts, or ramblings, aka actual "blog" posts.

#merch haul - Posts related to collectibles I've obtained that I want to share with others.

#not my art - Filter posts to only show art I've reblogged by other people.

You can find me in a few other locations, but I'm only going to list my active ones here.

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/taralen For most of my completed pieces. The only sketches you'll find here are for clients who commissioned sketchy pieces.

Myfigurecollection: https://myfigurecollection.net/profile/Taralen For my figure and hobby-related stuff (doujin, merch, etc.) I sometimes build my own figures (aka Garage Kits.) I've been collecting valuables since I was a kid, so you can consider me an experienced collector. Have questions to avoid getting scammed? I'm the one to poke!

Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/3540237 [[JP Only. Also 18+ but censored.]]

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/taralen Uncensored 18+ options, Hi-res versions, process compilations, and original pieces (usually concept art) I don't upload publicly.

Discord: [[Private]] I love meeting new people, but I would rather speak to someone privately on here first before I share this. I'm extremely chatty, so be warned!

Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/Taralen I'm the least active on here, but I might as well include it.

DNI IF YOU: Nothing offends me. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) JK I am a very curious and open-minded person. If you have views that don't align with mine, we might not have the best conversation, but it can certainly be an enlightening or interesting one! What are my views? Well, we learn these things from each other through polite conversation. Exposing myself to different lifestyles and opinions is enriching. Who knows? Even a hateful individual might change their mind when speaking to someone with kindness and understanding. I'm open to being followed, messaged, etc., by just about anyone, even people who I vehemently disagree with, UNLESS: ❎ You've committed or condoned acts of animal, child, elderly, or disabled person abuse/assault. We don't need slimes like that anywhere. Anyone that harms real innocents is a piece of human scum, regardless of whether or not they fit the categories I listed. ❎ You're just trying to sell some sex service to me. Sorry, but I am not interested. ❎ Condone or committed acts of necrophilia on deceased humans or animals. Seriously, what the $%^& is wrong with you? ❎ You are a stalker. Kind of obvious, but I had one in the past, so don't act like I forgot. 8^)

If you have similar interests, feel free to message me or ask me questions. I am lonely, so it's nice to talk to new people now and then. If you think my ideas, "headcanons," or interpretations are stupid, then that's fine. I don't expect everyone to like them. It is what it is.

Any and all reblogs are appreciated. If you repost my stuff like, say, on Reddit, please give credit and link back to the source, whether it be here or somewhere else. I always like seeing my work shared.

[femmefatalevibe]

hi femme, how are you? <3

i am currently 18, and probably experiencing some growing pains but i don’t know what to do… i’m too attached and dependent on my mum. my mum is my best friend, i feel like my child self when i was scared to be away from my parents i feel kinda empty if i’m not around my mum and i’m scared that i’ll have to be surrounded by other people who are not my mum because i love her so much but i don’t want to burden her or be desperate, i feel like my mum is getting tired of me and it hurts. i also feel bad because she is always there for me and i don’t want everything to just be about me, i want her to also rely on me, instead i feel like i’m so codependent and attached to my mother and i feel like i’m annoying. i don’t know how to express myself in a way that doesn’t seem clingy and i can’t explain it either like she’s my mother most people do everything they can to get away from their parents but i love her so much and i don’t want to be away from her for long and i wish that i could be always with her for the rest of my life. unfortunately i am moving out of home in september, and going abroad and i know she has her own life but all i feel is like that 5 year old child how loves and is pretty much physically and emotionally attached to her mother, like those kinds who hold onto their parents legs in public because they are too scared to be apart from them and don’t want to be around anyone else… this is probably pathetic but i just need some advice because i feel like this is probably excessive and i hate feeling empty whenever i am not with her…

thank you <333

Hi love! Fortunately, you're still young and self-aware of the codependency issue before you've gone off to live on your own. Moving abroad is intimidating if not scary for anyone your age, so that makes complete sense! While I'm by no means a therapist or licensed health professional/psychologist (someone you should probably speak to about this), here's my take and some advice I can offer on the situation:

First off, I would say that, at 18, you should have your own schedule and activities you do independently of your mom and family every day. Some ideas include:

Spending your morning alone reading, working out, having coffee/breakfast, journaling

Taking a walk/going to a workout class/lunch with a friend

Getting a part-time job or remote internship over the summer to learn some practical skills and how to work independently in the "real world"

Make your own decisions regarding most meals of the day (I know a lot of families have dinner together if everyone lives at home), when to go shopping/when to run errands or do chores

Some other suggestions I have include:

Schedule a set time of day or dates throughout the week to connect with your mom. Have a standing catch-up time either at the end of the day or for a weekend brunch, a weekly dinner out just the two of you, etc.

Take time to reflect on your personal values and the person you want to become as you begin this new chapter of your life. How would you describe your independent identity outside of your mom & family? What are your ultimate life/career aspirations? What do you plan on studying in school? What are your likes and dislikes, favorite activities/fields of study? What does your ideal social circle and social life look like? How would you describe your personal style, food preferences, lifestyle habits, decor setup, favorite books, music, and TV shows? What character traits and qualities would you use to describe your personality?

Consider healthy boundaries you can set to support your well-being. If you know that your over-reliance on your mom is an issue, speak to her about how you're aware that you're very dependent on her, appreciate her time and efforts (while this is her job as a parent – don't feel guilty about your mom providing healthy emotional and instrument support), you know that it is best for both of you to define some boundaries as you're growing and moving away. Some potential boundaries to set are how often you two hang out throughout the day (I need time and space between X hour and X hour in the morning & evenings), certain tasks you want to complete independently, and specific activities you decide to do with friends or alone throughout the week.

Join a club, team, or organization that allows you to socialize with university-aged peers, so you can develop more healthy interpersonal and social skills with people outside your family. Hopefully, a couple of them become your friends in the process!

Read some books on self-discovery, confidence-building, and other life skills/traumas you're healing from. I recommend Lighter: Let Go of the Past, Connect with the Present, and Expand the Future and Confidence & Assertive Skills for Women: How to become a Strong, Independent, Confident Woman in the Modern World come to mind. Maybe also try a self-discovery/shadow work journal as a self-learning and identity/confidence-building practice.

Hope this helps xx

[meditating-dog-lover]

Things to work on (2024)

1. Continue health goals I achieved this year and build on them (focus on gut health, posture, meet with PT often and to improve some strength and flexibility, etc...). I did a great job this year and I want to continue it!

2. Intermittent fasting 16-8 + walking and supplements.

3. Focus on mental health improvement (ACT focus). I need to work on anxiety, shame, and emotional regulation (and dealing with my mom). Unfortunately, I had a traumatic experience in my last therapy session and had to quit, and am scared of going back to therapy. Magnesium glycinate also helps with anxiety. Another thing that helps is being in touch with your inner child (this has helped me in the past and I'm working on being more in touch as time goes on). More on the last point later.

4. Continue progressing at work, doing more experiments, getting more experience beyond my lab, and looking into being eventually promoted. This is one of my more serious goals.

5. Continue to deposit money to my 401ks, IRA, house savings, and emergency savings, learn how to invest that money, start building credit, and look into real estate and gold investing. This is also one of my more serious goals.

6. Heal any health anxiety and trauma I have (this is trauma-related and not health-related since I did a great job on my physical health this year). I need to stop being anxious whenever I go see doctors and I should take my own health into my own hands.

7. This is more of a physical goal but look into improving my style (and confidence). I always hated clothes and makeup for some reason, so I need to work on this and am even considering meeting with a stylist for some help with this. I already do my hair, nails, eyebrows, skin treatment, teeth whitening, but I hate clothes, makeup, and accessories for some reason. Also keep exercising to stay lean and be able to fit into nice clothes. Looking into colors and styles that flatter me is a good start. I want to get comfortable with clothes and style to the point where I can confidently wear a swimsuit in public (I haven't swam in 5 years and I would love to do it again).

8. Look into hobbies. Inner childhood channeling can help here since I had a lot of hobbies growing up.

9. Read books!!!

10. Get in touch with your inner childhood! I'm on vacation in Cyprus right now and it reminds me of the Middle East from when I lived there as a child in the late 90s early 2000s (without the overwhelming complexities it has now). So if I gain any positive flashbacks from my child while I'm here, I'll write them down.

11. Do more self-care and fun stuff (if this means walking, taking a break, journaling, going to a spa, etc...). I work hard and need to relax and reward my hard work. I am going to do a skin treatment before I travel. I'll think of a list of things that I can do that fall under this category. Sometimes I feel like I don't need these, but once I really do give myself a special treatment I cannot stop thanking myself for doing so. Even if it costs a lot of money, it can be worth it.

12. Continue doing activism (even though this can be very distressing and I will need to learn some emotional regulation here, it's hard to emotionally regulate during a genocide happening right now).

13. Meet with a holistic doctor to address my eczema once and for all.

14. Work on my posture and muscle tightness/flexibility. I have poor posture and it's worth working on it now at a young age before it's too late. I'm going to get a pillow and mattress for my bed, work on my posture at my desk in work, stretch and if needed, get massages.

15. Learn to develop feelings of love and start believing you deserve to be loved. I have a hard time developing feelings for others. If anything my attraction to anyone has been physical lust rather than unconditional love. Again this is another inner childhood thing I want to work on because as a child I used to love unconditionally.

16. Getting rid of any feelings of shame I have. I've been raised to be ashamed and to always be "perfect". My parents were strict and judgemental in this case, despite them being good parents overall. This gets to the point where I feel like I need to hide in a corner whenever I make a mistake and start yelling at myself for being a failure. This will be hard, but it will work out in the end by hook or by crook. This is a self confidence issue. It's also hard knowing I live with my mom who can be super judgy. But I need to address this problem.

Add more if needed...

[studywgabi]

18th Birthday

I've been thinking that maybe I should just do it. All of it. Cheat on cappucinos, have a torrid affair with herbal tea. Exercise. Even 45-step skincare routines. Journal. "Practice gratitude." (Good God). Even if just to cross it off my list.

But I've never been that kind of person. Health is performative and foreign to me. It's almost frightening. I've always been too busy drowning to bother with trying to swim. I wouldn't even know how to go about being alive in a way that makes sense. But I am moving out soon (but not soon enough), so if there's a time to do it, it's now.

I mock health because I'm envious. I want to be a real person, but it's easier to romanticize pain by calling it being adorably messy or a work-in-progress. It's all I've ever known. I hate who I am.

Makeup isn't fun for me. Skincare isn't fun. Everything showers aren't my idea of a good time, or something I do to relax, or "me time." Trying to transform what has always been horrifically ugly into something passably presentable is work, yet another exhausting task to add to my never-ending to-do list. But besides all the expensive products and pressure, I need to start actually cooking real adult meals. I need to be less pathetic. I need to be kinder. I need to be honest. I need to read more. I need to watch more movies. I need to pet my dog more and spend more time with my parents and write more. I need to learn how to take care of myself.

But at this point, I'm not worth the effort. I just can't justify the work. I'm 18 and all of the stupid things old people tell me won't matter in a few years are my current lived, endured reality. Knowing I'll have different (probably worse) issues that even older people will belittle in a few years doesn't help me right now.

Yes, I care about silly high school milestones. I'm not going to be valedictorian. I failed and dropped several classes. I wasn't student body president. I've spent my whole life here and I'm so terrified I'll die here. I went to a regular public high school in Bumfuck, WA and I'm going to a public, in-state (of course) university (in an even smaller town) with a 98% acceptance rate, to major in something I don't believe in, I'm not interested in, and that will get me 28,000 a year. I'm not exceptional, or interesting, or good in any way. I have no talents; I've spent the past four years rotting in my bedroom with foil over the windows. And I'm not happy. School is my whole life; I don't have anything else going on. My main thrill in life is doing laundry. I'm not going to homecoming. I'm not going to prom. I'm still a virgin. I never drank. I never went to a party. I didn't use my time in high school wisely, nor did I have any fun. Sure, things could get better from now on. But my experiences up until this point are set in stone. I've aged out of so much. I've missed summer@brown. I've missed Washington Week. I've missed the national merit scholarship. I've missed friends. Boyfriends. I have nothing to show for my childhood. I don't know how to move on. I don't know how to get over what I lost. God, I hate how fucking whiny I sound complaining about nothing.

I guess I wish my parents wanted more for me, pushed me harder. I love them, but I can't condone their complete complacency. They're not disappointed in what I've become at all. They're so completely okay with my failure. I love them, but they don't hate me enough and that kills me.

I thought it fitting this post should be so fucking late. My birthday is January 30. I wish it was in August, so I could always be the youngest in my class (disgusting). It's just it all piles on together. Thanksgiving (freshman fifteen), fall quarter finals, Christmas, New Year's (and it's dreaded resolutions), birthday (an old biddy with cataracts and arthritis), and then, the cherry on top, fucking Valentine's Day.

God, I hate this girl. She's so annoying and stupid and pathetic. She talks about herself in the third person. It's because I want to distance myself as much as possible. Be not here and not this.

I want to be a teenage girl, just like everybody else. But I'm more of a middle-aged alcoholic man. I don't think being a mentally stable adult is in the cards for me, but I think it can get better than this. I hope it can.

Mmm. I'm getting notes of dirt and gasoline from this tea. Yummy. Cheers, darlings! Here's to being less shitty.

[thatsactuallywrong]

I understand that your vote was motivated by strong convictions about the future of the country, but I think there are a few points here that deserve a closer look:

Trump as a Savior: You mention voting for Trump to 'save this great nation from the corrupt politicians who have governed us for decades,' yet Trump himself was part of the political establishment for years, including during his presidency. The idea of him as an outsider challenging the system is complicated by the fact that he had significant influence over key political and institutional decisions during his time in office. How does this square with the notion of him being an 'outsider'?

Trump’s Own Role in the Negative Narrative: While you argue that the media has 'framed a negative reality of Trump,' it’s important to acknowledge that Trump’s own words and actions have contributed to his image. He’s often used divisive rhetoric, which has fueled public distrust and division. It’s easy to blame the media, but his inflammatory language has been a significant factor in shaping how he’s viewed.

The 'Tried to Kill Him' Claim: The statement that Trump has been 'tried to be killed multiple times' is, to put it mildly, laughable. The first shooter was a registered Republican, and the second was someone unaffiliated with a party but who voted for Trump in 2016. This oversimplified narrative about political persecution fails to address the complexity of such incidents and risks distorting the actual motivations of the individuals involved.

Spending Billions on a Campaign of Hate and Division: The claim that 'they spent billions of dollars on a campaign based on hate and division' seems to ignore the fact that Trump himself has often employed rhetoric that divides the country. His words have at times been the source of the very division he critiques, whether through personal attacks, dismissive comments about entire groups of people, or fostering an 'us vs. them' mentality. It’s not just the media, but his own actions that have stoked these fires.

Media Bias and Free Speech: The desire for 'truth and nonpartisan news' is something many share, but Trump’s relationship with the media has been anything but neutral. He’s consistently elevated certain news outlets while attacking others, which undermines the idea of fostering objective journalism. His approach to media and information isn’t about creating a more balanced discourse—it’s about controlling the narrative that suits his agenda.

Immigration and National Security: While it’s important to have a secure border and prioritize lawful immigration, the rhetoric around 'hardworking Americans' versus 'illegal immigrants' can overlook the broader contributions immigrants, both documented and undocumented, make to the economy and society. We should balance national security with compassion and fairness in how we treat people.

Gender and Ideology: Gender issues are complex, but framing gender diversity as a 'mental health condition' rather than recognizing it as part of the natural diversity of human experience can be harmful and stigmatizing. Inclusivity and respect for all individuals, including those who don’t conform to traditional gender norms, can coexist with a recognition of biological sex.

Election Integrity and Censorship: The focus on 'election integrity' is important, but the 2020 election was thoroughly examined, and multiple audits confirmed its legitimacy. Similarly, while social media platforms need to balance free speech with the need to curb misinformation, it’s important to note that concerns about censorship often stem from attempts to suppress disinformation, which can endanger public trust and safety.

[shnowbilicat]

Old Scars Heal Slowly

-------------------------------

Healing from wounds takes a long time, especially once that you cannot see. Sadly I'm someone who carries many scars and many times they like to open up again.

Alright I'll drop the vagueness, I hate calling what I've went through 'traumatic experiences' but I also can't deny that many things in my life have been really messed up and that they left panaoid thoughts that ... sometimes are right.

You're free to read the whole vent below, but I'll summarize it here if you're still interested but too lazy to read through paragraphs or le tragic backstory~

It's funny that I have another character that was very well liked, but pretty much used as an object for someone else to injet their fanatasies into, and when I mentioned how uncomfortable it was for me, people lashed out. I don't know why strangers on the internet think it's totally cool to take someone else's character and jerk off to them. Maybe they're all kids who don't know any better? But that does not excuse that they're legit hurting the original artist ... me. I was hurt. I got paranoid to the gills, have a fcked up relationship with intamacy and am super defensive when it comes to other people wanitng to do something to/with my characters. Consent is still a very new concept I have the feeling ... and I'm so tired of fighting over other people about what I can or cannot do with MY characters ... *le sigh :'33

Okay, so now for a more indepth vent, yay!!

Kokuri started out as a Sonic creepypasta. I liked the concept of a powerful, stalking, creepy Sonic character, so I made him into an OC! His power made him into a god, his creepiness gave him a cool creepy horror form and his stalking ... yeah I made him into a perv and I loved him to bits X'D

I never had a perverted character and since I was a teen I could kinda explore my sexuality and stuff with him in a fun way- wait why are my followers really into him??

Yeah for some reason Kokuri was REALLY popular, so much so that many of my friends and followers started shipping him with their characters?? Luckily my friends understood that I was uncomfy, but some were not so nice. I remember getting a note where someone told me they 'omni-shipped' Kokuri and while I admit I was an emotional teen that had english as their second language, I still was uncomfy and tried to tell them to please not. Later a friend of theirs argued with me that I cannot control others, especially when I become big ... I hope yall know that it does not matter how big someone gets, people shouldn't just ... deny the original creator their wishes for THEIR OWN CHARACTERS. I know I cano't control them, but they can at least be nice enough to respect my wishes mmmmrgh.

Another example was that I had a back then recent friendship tarnished when the person drew their self insert with Kokuri and I told them nicely that Kokuri had a boyfriend ... and they started to be very upset and rude towards me. Or, ya know, that one time a very clingy, RP-happy 'friend' who was always venting to me about their mental health and family and always wanted Kokuri to be their self insert's boyfriend- wait I feel a deja-vu. But there's more! Bby me tried and tried to talk it out how much they tired me out, even RPing it out with Kokuri telling them off, but nothing worked. So, public journal canceling our friendship- ah shit they made a counter journal pretending to be their sister and how I made them attepting to end game. Yaayyyy~ Yall can imagine how it fucking traumatized little ol me :'333

SO! After I kinda drifted off from Sonic to FNAF it was peacefuly quiet, but I had a hard rule that my characters are not allowed to be shipped without my consent after all that bs.

Fast forward to 2023, I get a chat message on DA and someone was really interested with my FNAF boiz. I was ecstatic and rambled about my squad, since it's really rare to get new people on board on loving my bbys. Soon we pivoted over to Discord and ... they mentioned how they liked Rick n Keith, like REALLY really liked them. So far as to call them 'boyfriend material' and how they wished Rick actually existed and how he would be the perfect boyfriend cuz they wouldn't judge them. And I was like 'plz dun take this too seriously okay?? :'3' cuz I was uncomfy with them drooling over my boiz, but also not wanting to take away their joy. Cuz surprise surprise, they also had a bad life. I didn't wanna take away that potentially could help them cope with it all, but also, ya know, don't be creepy.

Aaaaand they asked me for a romance RP with Rick and their FNAF character. I declined, cuz remance RPs are uncomfy, no shit, but they continued being weird, always wanting my attention and being weirdly talkative about how X character was hot or smth, wanitng me to get into the stuff they like, being dismissive about things I liked, being very non-chalant on visiting them IRL (we barely knew each other for half a year too), not taking a no for an answer, etc etc etc

One of my biggest mistakes was giving into the romance RP some time later. The person managed to talk me into merging two of my AUs, FNOK my NSFW AU and my base FNAF AU. I dleted any murder from FNOK cuz I didn't like the implications of murder and naughties ... but now it was back in it! :D

Also remember their OC? Yeah, they didn't even have a design or name up until now- ah wait they are oddly similar to my RP partner and also they share a name? A fucking self insert?? Yeah, yeah it was a self insert and I'm 1000% sure about it. Also they wanted to have at least 5 sentence replies, without dialogue. Broskies, I was so mentally exhausted by it all ya don't even know.

Worst part? They also pivoted to having the hots for SpringTrap, asing how much animal to animatronic they are, how *ahem* rough SpringTrap would be in bed. You can imagine how little old me was very creeped and weirded out. Nothing against kinkiness, but if ya wanna get violated by a big ass rabbit monster, don't do it here thxx

Or some minor things were that the person was sharing their ideas for some FAR future plots or ideas for the RP. Like when Rick and their OC would live together ... bro, they just met in RP, chill your balls plzzz qWq

All came to a head when I got a very uncomfy nightmare and confronted them to all my issues ... aaaand they lashed out BIG TIME. To keep the next scene short, we had a falling out, I tried desperately to talk things out, but they refused, even though they previously told me to be direct with them, even before my confrontation. I remember very well that they demanded that I NEVER bring drama with them or tell anybody about our arguement.

Over time I realized I was fighting a battle I cannot win. One last time, being so calm I scared myself, but no, they called me a a parasite (for demanding space? That's the opposite of what a parasote wants bruh) and I blockd them everywhere.

Freedom at last ... but at what cost?

I got new scars, because of someone who couldn't understand limits or keep their bloody hands of other's characters just to satisfy themselves.

I just recently saw the parallels with Rick and Kokuri and it really makes me upset to see that I let someone just ... use them and me like that.

And you got not idea how much my paranoia expanded. Hell, drawing love or intimacy are even worse now, I'm so scared to have people yell at me again or be happy about the things I draw ...

So yeah, that's why I was posting some deeper stuff here and there :'3

I gotta say, it's nice to draw my pervy hedgy comforting best shadow boi. I really wanna draw Kokuri with my sqaud more, they'd be so fun <33

Anyway, thank you for reading and also being there for me. While I still struggle immensly with drawing stuff, I'll try my best to get over my fears ... just pray for me to not get another creep wanting to jerk off to my characters X'D

[blandmemoirs]

Choosing To Be Better (2023 Journal)

(The following is a LONG entry written for my public diary from June 26th, 2023 to December 19th, 2023, with edits made up to its posting date in January 2024; as it was not written in one sitting, it may move around and shift focus in ways that are different from a typical memoir of its kind, but it was always intended to be one piece, and so will be posted as one. It reflects much of the angst, trials, fears, and despair I have struggled with for some time, but also, I hope, displays the perseverance, growth, strength and passion for life that I have been fostering all this time. Read to your hearts content. There is no TL;DR you'll get from me)

At the beginning of this year I made a fundamental decision that has set the course I have followed these past months. As last year transitioned into this one, there was much weighing on my mind(for that post, which is a bit of a downer, go here). I was 23, to turn 24, a college dropout working a dead end job, with no money in savings, overweight and relatively out of shape, my YouTube channel was still below 500 subscribers after 10 years, still not halfway to monetization, I had committed to a feature film that was being produced at the snails pace I chose to work, much to the discomfort of my fellow filmmakers, who were eager to get to work, I am single and have never had a meaningful romantic relationship, as all my pursuits, few as they are, were fruitlessly aimed at ones who were uninterested in me, and as a cherry on top, I am balding at a rate much faster than years previous, or perhaps simply more noticeably than years previous. The hair in front had visibly thinned to a point that even combing the longer parts from the side could no longer cover it. I wore pajama pants no matter the occasion unless specifically asked to dress "nicer", I have never been to a doctor despite recently subscribing to the highest tier health insurance at my work, I have a 401k that takes a percentage of every one of my paychecks.  I do not believe in God and have not said a prayer in nearly a decade.  I am a grown adult with responsibilities and ambitions. I am surrounded by a community that I have played a large hand in cultivating and was soon going to be elected to be responsible for continuing to cultivate and chart out a future for. I am an artist who thinks all day about art, but produces relatively little of, as consuming art is much easier than creating art. I had repaired much of my inner self, having healed the resentment I felt towards my father(s), and thus cured the hatred I felt towards myself. I forgave my father the man who raised me, and we have deepened our bond, I forgave my biological father, the man who r*p*d my mom to give me life, and no longer have any need for him to be around. I met my biological grandmother, who has spent the last twenty years hanging on a thread of hope that she may see her only grandchild come to her home, and I was able to be a wish fulfilled, and fill her heart with joy at the end of her life. I have opened doors to friends and given them homes to rest, grow, and heal so they may transform into the best versions of themselves. My family is proud of me. I am proud of how far I have come from how low I had been, and for the longest time in my life I have loved myself and felt content with myself. No shortcoming or perceived personal flaw has held over me like a dark cloud in some time. For some odd years I felt an inner turbulence like a raging storm which seemed ceaseless and eternal, I felt that I was always to be angry at the world and the God that made it and hate the men who made me, and hate myself for seeing them in the mirror and noticing every odd similarity that existed between us. But the raging riot within my heart has felt some sense of peace and quiet in the last few years. It has not dampened my passion, or blinded me in serenity. I am still hungry, I am still looking forward to what comes next, I am not content with my contentedness, but I am less a monster hiding inside of a man, and more a man that has tamed and mellowed what monster remains. There have been moments, days, when I lost my patience, my temper flared, and I felt the cage rattle. But no bridges have burned that were not rebuilt, no words were said that could not be unsaid, no daggers were placed into the hearts of the people I love because I felt I needed to return the hurt I was feeling. There were temptations, opportunities, and reasons to strike, to be angry, to be bitter, but the trend I have desired, and the path I have chosen, is one in which I can be better.

Better than my past self, better than my worst self, better than my best self, better than the father who created me, and better than the father who actually made me. All to the tune of a song emblazoned with the title of my newest journey, "To Be Better" created by the talented Gavin aka Miracle of Sound, whose music has felt like a spiritual guide for me for some time. Ever since first discovering his tunes on a random YouTube music tribute to the Batman Arkham games, I have felt captivated by his works, which are often inspired by video games, or movies, or his own experiences. He has an ability that I would describe as being able to capture the soul or essence of a work, and translate it into beautiful music. Some time ago I wrote here about my relationship with my anger, and set it to the tune of his song, "Ode to Fury", and now, all this time later, we both return to the God of War series, and to Kratos specifically, to set a new checkpoint, a point in which myself, Kratos, and whoever else is so daring, can choose "To Be Better".

It is no secret that at the end of this year I will be dressing as Kratos for the annual Star Bandits Halloween Party, and that in preparation for this I have made the decision to work out to build up muscle, will be shaving my head, and growing out my beard. I've also been eating more olives to boot but that's neither here nor there. To some people that is enough information and that is the story, to others they think its because of some single insecurity or character flaw listed from the beginning, and some may wonder why I even feel the need to explain any of this at all. Whatever it is you are approaching this essay, novel, or epic for, I want you to know I will be spending the next few thousand words talking about myself, my insecurities, my lived experiences, the media I've consumed to understand them, my failures, my successes, the things I've made, the things I'm proud of, and attempting to explain in as many words as possible who I am and what I want, because no one single person is just one single thing, we are complex, multifaceted, hypocritical, contradictory, and impossible to understand in just a few words. So, if you want to get as close as you can to understanding me, or the me that I want you to see, this is for you. But ultimately, this piece is for me, a new entry in my public diary and maybe a piece to be included in my autobiography. As to write about a lifetime may very well take up a lifetime. The reason I am choosing to closely identify myself with some video game character to the point that I am dressing up as the closest approximation of the pixels I can manage is because it is a small part, however largely symbolic, of the greater act I am performing in choosing to better myself.

I am not a religious person. I don't have a holy book I look to for answers to the universe or life's mysteries or my grand purpose in life. I don't pray to a God and hope He listens so he may favor me and work miracles to turn my luck around or give me an Eternal Life in some far off paradise. I don't believe in any kind of grand plan or cosmic scheme or intelligent design tom explain this rock orbiting a hot ball of gas and our suffering on it. I believe religion exists to foster a polite and orderly society. It exists to cultivate social engagement and community, to provide a "purpose" to it all. It exists to explain the questions that we just can't answer. God is cope. And the explanation, the answer to the unanswerable, is "well, it is what it is because He made it that way and only He knows why". That's the circular logic I used in Elementary school when I tried to convert my friend Louie because I thought it was my "purpose" as a Good Christian(TM) to bring people to the Light and "save" their "souls" from the big fire pit down below where everyone is punished for not believing in something despite the loving, forgiving, all powerful, omnipotent God creating them knowing they would not find Him in their lives. 

In 8th Grade I was a rather outspoken Christian as I went through a whole "rebirth" phase in the 6th Grade when I got legally adopted by the father who raised me and took on his last name, becoming Robbie Bland. I believed at that same time I felt a call from God to be baptised and thus reborn. Washing Bell away with holy water to become the person I was meant to be. The reality is I just wanted a symbolic change to fit the legal, bureaucratic change that took place when I sat their in a legal office and told them "My name is Robert Otist Bland, not "Robert Otist Bell Jr, please and thank you". I didn't particularly need the baptism, I got to have my main character moment in the courtroom when I stood before a judge and said that same thing, only for him to remark about my intelligence and maturity for a 12 year old. If only he knew it was because I had to grow up so fast. Oh well. The baptism was just another symbolic piece of action I could take to FEEL new and FEEL different. It was capped off with a new cross necklace that I wore everyday for the next few years. I'd pray every night, and I'd ask for forgiveness for whatever wrongs I had done, and pray for healing and blessings to those who had less, and ask God for a nice thing here and there. It made me feel good and comfortable, and when I was in church I would SIIIIING my praises for the Lord to all the little karaoke church choir songs. One day I was even worshipping so hard I passed out and fell on a lady standing next to me. I thought that was a pretty wild experience at the time, nowadays I think it was the result of locking my knees standing and singing until I was breathless, y'know, two things that make a person pass out. I felt I had some kind of a relationship with God, that He was watching me, and everything I do, and then I got older. I became a teenager, I became more aware of the world, I became more aware of myself, I started committing more "sins" by touching myself where it felt good, something I was told I'm not supposed to do or God, who is watching me touch myself, will be upset with me. So I'd pray for forgiveness every night after finishing. Then I remembered I didn't even know what bible verse said I couldn't choke the chicken, so I decided I should probably get more familiar with the bible. I resolved to read it cover to cover, as any good book ought to be read, and that I would read it, every night before bed, as incentive to stop "sinning" as hormonal teenagers discovering themselves do.

And I... Couldn't make it past Genesis. It was boring, and nothing was "speaking to me" or revealing some kind of wisdom or knowledge I couldn't already find somewhere else. It was full of long lists of names and family trees and some weird stories of incest and it just made me go "huh, so this the bible when read like a book and not just cherry picked for quotes to be interpreted for me", and I gave up. I stopped reading. Comic books were more interesting and I felt like I was actually learning things about morality, empathy, humanity, and "purpose" that the bible just wasn't giving to me, and I think that's where it began. If it wasn't there it was when my 8th Grade drama teacher stopped one of my conversations with a classmate about my religion and why they should convert to pose a question: "If God knows Everything, do you have Free Will?" Well of course! I thought. The bible says so, or so I'm told. "But, if God knows every decision you will make before you make it, and God created you, did you make those decisions?" Well, of course! Because God gave me free will... I wasn't satisfied with my own answers and shame on the grown adult for owning me in an argument, buuuut honestly also thank you because you opened my mind so much on that day. I began to fixate on that question, and others I would come up with to challenge myself and poke holes in my thinking. "What if you are born in one of those indigenous communities that has no contact with the outside world and you still worship the sun or the rain and not Jesus Christ himself? Or what about the people who came before 0 AD when Jesus was born?" Rather specific, and some (hypothetical) answers damn those people to eternal darkness in purgatory for the crime of being born before they could know better and convert to "the right one" with the eternal kingdom everlasting. Other people are perhaps less tolerant than others and would happily damn those people to Hell, and some people are perhaps more merciful than others and think everyone who lives a virtuous life goes to the happy place because that's the way it should be. I started to believe that, but then that meant my religion no longer hinged on actually believing and worshipping my God to get past the Pearly Gates. It just required you to be a "good person", but then that led me back to my rather frequent monkey spanking, which while simultaneously making me go blind and grow hair on my hands, was also supposed to make me a bad person. "But why, why would God make something that feels so good, be so wrong?" A rather dangerous thought that, but God also gave men a G-spot up their rectum and said they aren't allowed to touch it, and he made food so good, but us get so fat when we eat! That's when it started to click.

Religion is about sacrifice! Hell, they all talk about it. Whether its animals, crops, indulgences, or fellow human beings, we gotta take some Ls, sometimes Lives, so that God can be nicer to us and reward our "service". Ugh, service? Religion is about serving God? The same God who doesn't talk to me like he talked to everyone else in the damn book? Where's my burning bush? Where are my easy answers. Faith is about trusting the process and not asking too many questions because I'm not supposed to understand. God is above me and incomprehensible and blah blah blah. Some religions even spout "submission" along with their service. I ain't submissive, that's not what I'm here for. If God wanted me to submit he'd give me a reason, and burning forever or rotting away in an abyss absent his light and love doesn't sound all that different from a Summer night in Texas getting bitten by skeeters. Damn bloodsuckers.

In 9th Grade I had the opportunity to get some way forward with my relationship with God and religion when I emceed an Interfaith Panel hosted by my school's Philosophy Club wherein we gathered many religious leaders from the community, some local, some not so local. We had a Rabbi, two muslims, a few priests, a Coptic Christian from Egypt, a Hindu who needed a translator because he didn't speak English, and like two buddhist guys one of 'em in full robe mode. They were all people who had authority and experience and knowledge over their religions, even if I don't remember all their specific titles, and by the end of the night, I liked the buddhist guys the most. So... Was I buddhist?

Nah, I mean. Karma made some sorta sense, reincarnation sounded, approachable, and also made some sorta cosmic sense in that all matter and energy is recycled as it is neither created or destroyed, supposedly, but Nirvana? Just sounds like Heaven but with extra steps. I don't want Heaven or Enlightenment or whatever the time and place after life is supposed to be. I just want this life, to LIVE this life, and to live it well. That Interfaith Panel was the end of my relationship with The Lord God Almighty and the beginning of my Atheism arc, because well, for me it was all or nothing. Not too be too Green Goblin about the whole thing, but the Agnosticism is just "There is a plan but we don't know it because only God knows" but more noncomittal. "I mean, there is a God, but I don't know, I'm not too sure, no one knows really". I just can't help but ask "Are you in or are you out?" and for me, I was out.

The only approachable religion left for me was deism, or the 'clockwork' God the Founding Fathers are accused of believing in, the one who made everything, like a big piece of clockwork, and now sits on his hands and watches his "intelligent, grand design" of an Ant Farm tick away, never interfering to make repairs or fix what's broken, because even a broken clock is right twice a day. That's why wars, and genoc1des and r*pe and all the bad things happen because God designed the world that way and it's supposed to happen by design, form, and function, because he knows best and we are so small and stupid and we can't conceive of why that two year old should get brain cancer and die. It must have... Just been "his time" because God "needed him in Heaven".

No we just live in an imperfect world as imperfect lifeforms that decay from the moment we are born until the decay outpaces our growth and we return to the dirt we were sculpted from, and we have genetic disorders, and diseases, and cancer causing chemicals in our homes, the food we eat, and the air we breath, and some of us actively pollute the air ourselves and others breathe because we have chemical addictions and oral fixations that are only satiated by sucking on chemical binkies, and hey man, from the moment we are born to the moment we die, babies need binkies. And I'm not knocking ya, but let's call a spade a spade, your inability to go two seconds without sucking on that binky is just you perpetuating your inner baby. It makes you feel safe and comfy, and thats what binky is for. Everyone does that, just different ways, because none of us ever really "grow up" we just change shape and form.

Anyways, Our God is an Awesome God He Reigns, or he built a clock and he's watching us tick each other off, and no matter what, no matter what interpretation you prefer from the classics, no matter what quote you pull or book you read, God allows awful things to happen, a real "why do bad things happen to good people" paradox, and you know, I get it, God is cope, we need God to surrender ourselves and our critical thinking to so that we can feel some comfort in the "master plan" that sometimes involves "master races" and "mass-ter extermination but absolutely NO masturbation. And absolutely NO sexual relations before marriage because you aren't supposed to know if you are sexually compatible with your spouse until the wedding night, and then you just gotta make it work, nevermind how important being able to physically please each other and fulfill each other's desires is. It still bugs me, it still unsettles me, and I don't want to cope, I want to live. I want to feel. And you know, I do think the story of my atheism being rooted in my being a teenage coomer is funny, but to people who think that's some major personal failure or character flaw, I choose to tell the truth, the whole story. The REAL, most RAW reason why I can never love a God that does not love me.

My mother was 15 when I was conceived, 16 when I was born. That's about the same age as The Virgin Mary.

My biological was 20 chasing after a girl in high school, even if you wanna adopt a United Nations 'modern' take on consent among the youth, that's still a grown man and a minor, ethically that is egregious, even if my mom may say it was her idea. What kind of world is it where we buy into that idea that a kid can "choose" to be in a relationship with an adult, that a kid can then "choose" whether to keep the kid that was conceived from that "choice" made from an ignorant, uninformed, and naïve perspective placed on them by a predator. Now how the Hell are we supposed to buy that a girl of that same age can consent to an "immaculate conception" from a higher being she can't possibly conceive or process. Now I'm applying "modern human standards" to He Who Cannot Be Understood by humans, but is God really so above us that we get to overlook the, uhm, frankly "problematic" age and power gap involved heah? Is that why we are to submit and sacrifice and be unquestioning? Because that's just the way it is it's all part of the plan, we can't possibly understand. No, what I don't understand is why my life, my conception, my existence and my ability to be on this Earth, came as a byproduct of, in the most liberal terms, statutory rape, and then hinged on the literal child making the "choice" to keep and raise me. How lucky me that I won the one in a million lottery to be one of the swimmers playing in the JV league to make it here. I don't get a representative in the room because I don't have a womb but it's insane that we just let adults rape kids and then let kids "make a choice" about their future. I think there should be more to it than that. Obviously you shouldn't force a life into the world to be raised by parents that are both unfit, and unwanting of the burden of parenting(*cough cough Casey cough cough*) because that's where tragedies become murders. And you know what? I was lucky. 

My mom did keep me, and she did do her best to raise me as a child raising a child, at the cost of stunting her growth and putting her life on hold to be mother to myself and my sister and brother who soon followed me. And I'm grateful. I love my mom, even when she let me down or couldn't quite reach the bar of "good" parent, as subjective as that can be, I never hated her for her personal flaws or shortcomings, because I always saw through it, that she was that 16 year old mom, trying to do right by the life(and later, lives) she chose to create. And though her parenting style was always "do as I say and not as I do" as she engaged in vice after vice after vice, I listened, even if she had to spank some of the vices out of me when they began to stick. I never drank, I never will. I never smoked, I never will. I didn't say bad words until I turned 18, as we agreed was most appropriate. I got good grades, made good friends, was involved in my education even when I wasn't passionate about it, and I didn't have any babies as a teenager, in fact, the fear of turning out the way my parents did was what made approaching any form of intimacy or romance for me... Difficult. And it still is, though I'm getting better at, trying, even if its all baby steps like "telling her how you feel". I'm so cautious and reserved and I mean dead-honest afraid of intimacy because I grew up seeing everything on fire all the time, and I've seen so many relationships end because people just aren't very good at taking care of each other, and in my limited experiences, sometimes people just don't know how to take care of themselves and they're just as scared of intimacy as I am. Oh well. I have to REALLY like someone before I can even begin to approach the idea of asking them out, and by that point, we are already close friends and now its "awkward". As has been stressed to me with great emphasis of late, you're not supposed to date your friends, apparently. I'll figure it out someday, it'll just take someone really special, as I've always said. All things considered, my mom didn't do the worst job in the world, especially for a teen mom who drowns in vices and can't financially plan very far ahead of her next paycheck. Even when she drunk drove me to a PTA meeting and slurred her words while the principals and counselors and teachers who all saw her son as a young prodigy shook her hand I forgave her, in spite of the disappointment and embarrassment, because that was my mom, the one who chose me, and the one who loved me and is proud of me. You can't quite resent that. It was harder to forgive my dad, even though he was similarly fucked up as a kid and just as if not more stunted and broken. I live as good a life as I can, on my own terms, because my birth forced my mom to live her life for me.

I think about Hulk a lot. I write about Hulk alot. Lately I've been writing scripts about Hulk alot. I wrote this line the other day-

"Banner: When I was born, I destroyed my mother's life."

Because in the comics Bruce Banner's dad, an abusive alcoholic who hated Bruce and hated his wife for having him, killed his mom when he was a child. Rebecca Banner died protecting her son from her husband, and it's something Bruce always blamed him for. When I wrote that line it sent something close to shivers up my back, I felt a strange resonance with it, and I think after this long essay full of rants and anecdotes about why I hate God and love my mother, you might be able to see why. I felt guilty for a long time, over a sin I did not commit, over a life I couldn't consent to or ask for, because of the sins of my biological father. It was a guilt that lingered within me for a long time, and apparently still rears its head from time to time. A root cause for me to hate myself, among the many other reasons I've found over the years, but all the same: it was this guilt that made me respect my mother, in the odd ways that I do. I do what she asks of me, I never raise a mean finger to her, because the last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. When she does something to hurt me or my siblings or my father or herself, I kind of just shrug it off, because I can't really stay mad at her. And maybe that's not right, or productive, or helpful, but the longer I reflect on my conception, the more I just can't bare to do anything else to hurt or inconvenience her, because I was already born. 

So yes, I hate God, because if God exists, that means his plan was to take my 15 year old mother, and absolutely f*ck her shit up, just so her eldest son could go on to... Be a virgin nerd college dropout in a cult with a nonprofit. I guess that's something? I'm not really seeing the vision because God is not real. There is no plan, there is just chaos. An imperfect world full of imperfect people seeking the logic and reason in illogical and unreasonable beings. We are driven by so many complex and contradictory emotions and chemicals and hormones and traumas and motivations that we can't see past our own noses sometimes. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I've made my peace with that. I'm responsible for myself, the people around me, and the actions I make that affect everything they touch. I like that, that feels more like free will. Sorting through competing impulses, learning discipline to make wise decisions, choosing when to sacrifice and when to indulge, weighing my perceived pros and cons, making a decision and committing to it, or only going halfway and backing my way out and watching it fall apart or turning my back on it entirely to avoid the consequences, if I can outrun them. But if you take that agency away from me, and tell me there's some divine being pulling all the strings, watching me and knowing every move I'll ever make before I ever even started playing, that shit sounds rigged. And why does some omnipotent, omnipresent, omni-loving motherfucker need to design a "perfect vessel" in "His Image" and give it the capacity to rape, murder and genocide? Was that really necessary in the design? You created these intelligent, reasoning creatures and damned half of them to darkness from birth and also decided the cherry on top was that they ought to be able to torture and destroy and hurt each other? That was necessary? And don't come at me with the suffering bullshit. We can suffer knowing our dogs will die before we do, we can suffer knowing that grandma isn't gonna see us graduate, we can suffer when we fall from a high place and break a leg, we can suffer when our hearts are broken by the perfect girl. We don't NEED the depths of suffering that come from the Japanese Empire's Literal "Rape of Nanking" or Nazi Germany's "Camps". Our all loving all powerful divine King looked at that shit and said "yeah I fucks with that lets ship it". And don't Devil bullshit me. Who created the fucking Devil??? The Devil has NO power that God doesn't give it. Women get periods and painful, life-risking child births because one of them decided to eat an apple and God said "fuck all of you". Fuck God. I hate God, and I'm so GOD DAMN glad that He is not REAL. Because if, IF, I'm wrong, I have a #1 hater and a nemesis, a sworn enemy and I have got to kill HIM. If God is real and instead of returning to the nothingness from whence I came I instead find myself being judged at the pearly gates, it is ON SIGHT. If God's damning me to Hell, I'm dragging him down with me. Because it is better to reign in Hell than to serve in His Heaven, if I'm gonna go full Devil Trigger.

If you believe in God, that's cool. There are reasonable, principle, moral, social, logical, personal reasons to believe in a higher power and want to find your purpose through it. I respect you and I respect your decision, I just don't respect your God, and I hope that you can separate those distinctions, because it's never me vs you if it's me vs your god. I can root against your favorite football team or think that your communist ideology is flawed too, that don't mean we can't get along. When I've spoken with creationists in less extensive debates, they always jump to "how can something come from nothing" and golly gee man I don't fucking know dude. I'm not born to know that. We can't time travel back to the beginning of everything, we can only study what's going on right here and now, and interpret what's left from back then. It's all theory and study and deduction and in 200 years it'll probably all be proven wrong anyways. I don't care how we got here, what we do know is WE ARE HERE, we are here right now, and there is no way of knowing what comes next. All we really know is we have this one life, because no one you've ever met came back from the other side or remembers what came before. That or they are making shit up, as all humans do. So why not live your life the way you want, pursue the things you like and are passionate about, and help and improve your community right now, because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Today is a gift from God and that's why they call it the present.

So when I'm hit with the gotcha of "something from nothing" all I can ever really think is "me born from rape" and it's not a polite thing to say, and I try to be more Obama and not say impolite things in public. Maybe it's a chip on my shoulder, it left me feeling guilty for some time, but really, it saved me from the delusion of some higher being with a plan and made me believe in my own agency and responsibility for my actions, the kinds of things that the predator who created me didn't think about when he was taking advantage of a minor. It's okay, I'm okay. In fact, what this long-winded expository life story expose was written for was to detail my background and mindset about gods, so that I can once again drag you through the muddy rabbit hole and synthesize everything with my relationship to the God of War, Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta.

To make a long story told across several incredible video games full of awesome and gory hack 'n' slash action with emotionally resonant stories with depth deeper than the shallow waters they trudge in, Kratos is a demigod, born into the Greek Pantheon as yet another bastard child of Zeus. What made Kratos special was his brother Deimos, who was borne with markings on his body that fit a prophecy which said a marked warrior would one day k1ll the gods and topple mount olympus. So Ares and Athena popped on the scene and latta'd his kid brother. To honor him, Kratos tattooed the same markings on himself, became a top ranking Spartan general, aaaand then got 300'd by some barbarians, and in his dying breath, swore allegiance and fealty to the God of War, Ares

Ares molded him into a perfect killing machine and a weapon of war, wielding the powerful Blades of Chaos permanently singed into the arms of his new warrior. Kratos was devout and loyal and did whatever the god asked of him, including ransacking and murderizing a town for the glory of his god. Only, as Kratos came down from his bloodlusted rage in service to Ares, he discovered that he had slain with his own hands, his wife and daughter in service to his god. As Kratos mourned the loss of his loved ones, at the design of the gods, Ares came to gloat that it would make him a great warrior. Ashamed and suicidal, Kratos engaged in as many self destructive vices as he could to hide from the guilt and bury the memory of what he had done as a monster for a god, and as Ares grew power hungry in the pantheon, Kratos was eventually recruited by sympathetic gods to take Ares down once and for all, and given the promise that his memories of his atrocity would be erased. So he embarked on a journey of epic proportions, even being slain by Ares, only to prove he was the original man too angry to die and to crawl out of Hades himself for some sweet revenge to gain the power needed to slay a god, which he did, only to be uno reverse carded and betrayed by the gods again, who instead of taking his memories from him, crowned him the new god of war. And that was just the beginning. Then he was doing usual God of War things like Ares before him, only for Zeus to grow extremely paranoid about the whole marked warrior thing and the fact that Kratos had in fact, killed a god, so he set off to do some dirty work himself and get ahead of fate and kill Kratos himself... Only for Kratos to be too angry to die, crawl back out of Hades, knock down the doors of the sisters of Fate and literally beat fate and take control of it for himself, travelling back in time to stop Zeus from killing him and then declaring war on all of Olympus. A war which, depsite its ups and downs, trials and tribulations, he was destined to win through sheer will alone.

But there are consequences to killing a god, and there are even more consequences to killing a pantheon of gods. Floods, disease, pestilence, hunger, darkness, and fear gripped the world of man in a ravaging vice as Kratos stood over the ruins of the new world he created by burning the old one to ash, in his quest for revenge he had lost his humanity and become a mindless monster, hellbent on destruction and ruin, no matter the cost, but now, at the very end, a mind once drunk on blood is sobered by the agony of bloodloss. There was only one god left to kill, that is, when Athena appeared, claiming to have ascended beyond Olympus into a realm of godhood above gods, and now that Olympus had fallen, she would return to rule over all that was left. Kratos, ever ready to stick it to the gods one last time, used the powers he had accrued in the destruction of the gods to destroy himself and free the power of hope to the people of the world, to make their own lives free from the gods, and seemingly ended his own life with his own hands, denying Athena her master plan's payoff and freeing mankind once and for all. 

Until you fast forward, some amount of years, decades or centuries is unknown, Kratos lives in isolation in the wintery world of midguard, having travelled across the world into a new land, one ruled by new gods with new rules. A land where the now much more mild mannered and even tempered Kratos once again tries to raise a family and move on from his dark past, avoiding the gaze of the gods, he is successful for some time, until the death of his wife, this time not by any malicious hands, sends him on a quest across the realms and into the path of the gods. Along the way he must teach and bond with his son all while attempting to hide his past and suppress his old violent habits borne from his inner rage. All this comes to a head as the boy begins manifesting his godly abilities but becomes ill by the contradictions his mind believes he is mortal but his body is that of a god, resulting in a sickness that could kill him, all because his father would not tell him the truth of his nature. Kratos is forced to dig up the old blades of chaos to venture into a realm where no fire can exist, except that of the primordial flames his blades produce, and encounter visions and spectres of his past which haunt and tease him, reminding him he cannot escape what he has done, for what he is, is a monster. Kratos remarks "But I am your monster no more" before using his blades not to destroy, but to save, not for revenge, but for love, ultimately rescuing his son and telling him the truth. Their quest continues and brings them into confrontation with the new gods of this realm, the Aesir, the gods who rule from Asgard, and as confrontations boil over Kratos is once again pushed to become what he was made to be, a godslayer. But as the saying goes, there are consequences to killing a god, something he must impress upon his son after the boy becomes vengeful. Their quest ends when they are faced with the near unkillable Baldur, a man who feels no pain and heals from any wound, a near equal to Kratos in strength and fury, who was cursed by his mother who feared prophecy that he would be slain someday. Her curse, meant to protect, was an overcorrect, as his lack of feelings drove him mad, numb from the numbness, he seeks to kill her in revenge, only for Kratos to intervene, and kill the unkillable god thanks to the help of the magic mistletoe-as-kryptonite arrows his son used to break the spell. "The cycle ends here" was Kratos' proclamation after urging Baldur to back down from repeating history and slaying his parents in revenge. And yet, there are consequences to killing a god. The death of Baldur signals the coming of Ragnarok, the end times. In attempting to stop the cycle, Kratos has only pushed it further.

This all comes to a head when Kratos is backed into corner after corner by the Norns, Norse Mythology's weavers of Fate, and the machinations of Odin the Allfather, who pits his Asgardians against Kratos and Atreus until they are both forced to play the roles they were born into, ultimately toppling Asgard and it's gods, once again freeing another world from the oppression of the gods, allowing them to make their own destinies, and to finally allow Kratos to find some peace, as the end of the game reveals that Kratos is prophesized to shed away his guilt and shame and pain and become a god worshipped by the people, rather than feared by them, at least until the next pantheon comes aknockin' on his door and forcing him to become that fateful godslayer once more.

This is an incredibly abridged version of Kratos' story, and one that doesn't do the whole of his character full justice, but it is important to outline his journey and give as much context as possible without doing a head over heels deep dive. The point is this, Kratos kills gods and commands his own fate. Those two things have always stuck with me. One of my favorite times playing video games was the entirety of God of War 2, which was my first time playing a game in the series, where the spectacle and hack n slash action was taken to a satisfying and fun peak, and the idea that the whole plot is just Kratos being too angry to die that he defies and defeats fate itself to undo his death is just fucking cool, man. So, when I heard the first few lines of Miracle of Sounds' song, "Break the hard chains of fate, roads we walk we create, for our futures are wide and vast" I was already starting to well up with emotion, from the nostalgia of that old game, paired with the rich journey in the new game, and the thematic truth I have come to believe in, that we are not static or unchanging, that we are not just the people we were born to be, but that the human spirit allows us to be who we choose to be. It is not easy, it is filled with trials and perils and backslides, and we are not perfect, but if we make good decisions, if we choose to do good things, we can overcome the beasts deep within, cast our fury into our past, and choose to be better at last.

I've made a lot of mistakes and I've let a lot of people down in my life. Every failure, every perceived shortcoming, every time I intentionally or unintentionally chose to be less than the person I want to be, haunts me. I have burned entire relationships with communities and individuals to the ground. I have chosen a scorched Earth over a long road to recovery and reconciliation. I once thought I had a "found family" in my former friends from the Theater Production Class of my 8th grade year. Comprised of some long-running friendships from Elementary all through middle school, I had known many of them for a long time at that point. Having spent many extracurricular hours together creating the bonds that only stageplay performances can create between its cast and crew. I had even been unanimously elected into a leadership position as theater club president, a position I did not originally volunteer for, as I was reticent to take on any position of power, being scared of what that might make me into. Yet, when the 8th grade year started and the position was vacant, before I could choose to run for the position, half the class told me it should be mine, and ever seeking to please and impress my peers, I ran and won a largely uncontested race after giving an impromptu speech about responsibility and commitment and passion to the craft. An event nearly mirrored some years later when I would intentionally run for the position of Inaugural Star Bandit Council Member, though I had more time to prepare and actually wanted the position, it was one that I seemed to slide into with little effort despite, or perhaps because of the gravity of it's responsibilities. That is one of the curious things I have discovered of myself, I never have much trouble taking responsibility or accountability for something, even when at times it feels intimidating or its something that should not be my fault or warrant my involvement, I am not afraid to take the heat and deal with the consequences, yet when there is a position which entails decision making, leadership, or "power" otherwise, I am scared shitless and reticent to involve myself. Perhaps its because I want to do the work and make things happen, but I don't want to disappoint or fall short of the expectations that come with being "a good leader". Sometimes I just like being a goon, following a plan, clearing a path for someone else's vision that drives me to passion.

Sometimes I think I'm best fit for a role which requires me to be accountable and involved, but not wholly in charge of the decisions and the crafting of a cohesive scheme. I much prefer being pitched a plan, tossing it around in my head, picking it apart, adding flesh to its bones, and returning it to its originator with a stronger idea than before. It's a role that I find more comfortable, but its also perhaps an easy thing that just anyone can do. Its easy to poke holes in a canvas than it is to paint a picture on one. I often wonder if I only fear the idea of "power" because of Thomas Jefferson's quote about its corrosive qualities.

"Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely".

That I internalized such an idea at a young age that it stunted me from taking on the challenges that come from power and influence. Then I remember that my parents had power over me, and that they had their share of powertrips, that their parents parents, my grandparents had power over them and me, and powertripped, and politicians and priests and people all the world over, once given the power to do as they please and take advantage of other people's vulnerabilities or weaknesses, often must resist the urge to powertrip, or be absolutely corrupted by their power and do awful deeds which hurt and destroy. 

I am afraid of power because I am afraid of myself, of what I might do when I become powerful. I worry that even my resolve and moral character can be corroded and hollowed out if not kept in check, something that becomes more and more difficult with ascending tiers of power. A scene from one of my favorite TV shows, Mr Robot, demonstrated what this anxiety or insecurity of mine looks like in manifest. Terry Colby is rich, powerful, and hollow, a good businessman. Through his position in his ultra powerful corporation, "E Corp", he helped cover up a chemical leak which gave cancer to many of his employees, a decision which became a death sentence for so many and which was the spark that lit the shows world on fire, as the main characters are the children of those workers. Yet, when backed into a corner and questioned on how and why he made such a decision, Colby casually recalls the air of the room, in which he and his peers lavished in decadence while they logically and callously decided to cover up their own failures, dooming their employees to desolation, all because a lawsuit would be cheaper than an actual fix. The piece that always stuck with me was that Colby acknowledged that he knew there was a human cost unaccounted for, but that, when all was said and done, he went home, ate breakfast the next day, and carried on, and soon enough it stopped mattering, because it never actually affected him in the first place. That callousness, the insensitive apathy held towards the people whose lives he had power over, that is what makes me afraid of power. When human lives are just numbers on a spreadsheet. This deep-seeded fear of mine manifests not just in my own reticence, but in a strange resentment of those who do take up these positions with perceived ease and calm. I resent my managers, even the most human and empathetic of them, I resent my government officials, even the ones I vote for or who pass laws I want. I struggle against myself and these feelings I have about power and people who seek it out. It can even make some interpersonal relationships tense as I project some of these insecurities onto people undeserving of such derision.

In Dragon Ball Z Budokai Tenkaichi 3, before Goku turns Super Saiyan 3 and uses his Dragon Fist attack, he exclaims "if I don't who will?" And that has always stuck with me. A call to action so simple yet so complete. If something must be done, we must step up and do it ourselves, else they will never happen at all. It is a modus operandi I operate on most of the time. If I don't take charge, who will? If I don't fix this, who will? If I don't strike up a conversation, who will? Sometimes there are others who will, oftentimes there are not. When I encounter those rare people who have a similar inclination to taking up the cause or leading the way, I often find it easy to step out of their way and provide my support, opting to help push them forward instead of dueling for the front of the locomotive, as every train needs a caboose.

Almost every one of my heroes was reluctant. Marc Spector killed for money until a change of heart sent him on a quest for redemption. Elisa Cameron woke up as a ghost with no memories of her previous life, having to overcome prejudices and piece together who she used to be, Jessica Cruz has to overcome anxiety, PTSD, and herself to focus her willpower on heroics, Bruce Banner believes he is the monster his dad saw him as, denying himself close relationships, Vic Sage was a selfish loner who fought for pleasure and thrills until he was broken by a question he couldn't answer, Kratos was hellbent on revenge and conquest before ever fighting for hope. Even historical figures I find fascinating had that reluctance to ascension to power, Washington was asked to run by the new republic, Lincoln wasn't going to free anyone until the South forced his hand, Oppenheimer created a weapon to end the world, and felt shame and guilt for his actions. There are consequences to the decisions we make. That is never far from my mind.

I've derailed from one of the points I wanted to make. In 8th grade I had what felt like a home away from home, something I have spent much of my life searching for, and something that I sometimes wonder if I may ever find forever. (The Star Band of Its friend group has outlasted the others by years, to which I would like to credit myself in part due to my patience and efforts to be a glue that binds and mends these characters' lives together. But I wonder as to the truth of that. As there have been times when in trying to diffuse I inadvertently stoked a fire that would erupt into a chaotic meltdown, and other times still when I was given pieces of information and manipulated into action and side-taking that would have never occurred when tempered against a complete story and the whole, honest truth. Worse still, there have been moments, hours, days, when that once dormant storm warmed inside me and became a hurricane of rage which rained down fury on those undeserving, no matter the slights they pulled to upset me, but lets get back to the point). I felt that I was close to these friends and that I knew them and that I had a place in their lives. Then I moved away, 2,000 miles to California. On my way out, I collected all their cell numbers so I could keep in touch with them. I would text them everyday as I walked home from school. At first it went well. I'd receive regular communication from most and it felt good to continue to be connected to these people I valued. Then as time went on replies got scarcer and scarcer. Not only were the responses less, but they were lesser, more small talk, less conversation. The friendships were drying up and I began to worry about how they actually felt about me. Was I annoying them? Was it too much? Maybe they were just busy. My favorite way to cope with disinterested spirits. Maybe they just had a lot going on and would get back to me in time. So, I waited. I stopped texting first, and I waited for the real ones to reach out. And no one did, at least, none of the ones I had expected or thought I wanted. The people who reached out were the people I thought I was least connected to, the ones who I felt existed on the outside of my ingroup. The distant cousins of my found family. Yet these friends reached out all the same, despite my undervaluing of their time and effort. And before long I learned that those people I thought I knew so well, didn't have many kind things to say about me when I was not in the room. I felt that resentment begin to build.

I went long periods without contacting them at all, waiting, waiting, fuming, stoking the flames of quiet discontentment. California was supposed to be a temporary departure from my regular life, it turned out to instead be a turning point that changed the trajectory of myself forever. I fell for a girl, but feared her rejection, so stored those feelings safe away as I soon discovered she had eyes for another. Yet we grew closer nonetheless, in part due to my insistence to be near her. She was my first friend in this foreign land where people look at you wrong when you hold the door open for them, and react with surprise or suspicion when you say "yes ma'am, no ma'am, yes sir, no sir" because no one ever taught them manners or that politeness we foster here in the South in the name of hospitality. I walked her to every class I could, and she was delighted to see me and spend time with me. I felt a gravity around her that I've never felt around anyone before or after, an unmitigable well of energy and enthusiasm for the world and all who inhabit it, a raw love for the world that warmed my heart in a time that felt so full of despair. When I first saw her I wrote her off as just some cringey nerd girl who didn't know anything but the textbooks in front of her. How right I was, how wrong I was. We sat next to each other in English class. I noticed her big poofey hair and liked it. She was noisy and a people pleaser, a teachers pet, a tried and true nerd. She reached out to me because I was the new guy, and that made me interesting. We eventually traded numbers. I taught her about Shrek is love, Shrek is life, she taught me about Filthy Frank. I realized this weird cringey nerd girl had something close to an edge to her, despite her naievette, and soon fell for her hard. I don't think she ever noticed, but she felt something too. (She once rejected to read the role of Juliet during a class reading of Romeo & as I was chosen to read for Romeo and she thought it was "too awkward". How would that be awkward between two people who are just friends?) We texted all day and night, from dawn to dusk. Through the school day and at the dinner table. She got in trouble with her dad who, for some reason, monitored the volume of text messages she sent each month. Despite her phone plan providing unlimited, infinite text message exchanges between her and whoever she was talking to, he scrutinized the numbers and was flabbergasted when she went from sending less than a hundred texts a month to several hundred or over a thousand a month, regularly. I guess that would cause some concern to any helicopter parent, as any abnormality is a sign of change, and change is scary when we can't control it.

But we texted anyways, in spite of his growing concern for his daughter's erratic behavior. She wasn't allowed to befriend boys in fear of retaliation from her father. She also wasn't allowed sleepovers, or birthday parties, or much of a social life outside of school in general. She wasn't allowed social media so when the concern over our texts grew to be too much we switch to... email, Gmail, to be specific, and google hangouts, a chat thread built into google mail. Our friendship was a secret, and my deeper feelings even moreso. It was almost a forbidden love. The kind in which the desire to prove it and triumph in spite of the opposition was so desirable, so fiercely "romantic" that I fell into a deep pit of love that took me years to recover from. She liked another guy. I knew this when I met him, he knew me when I met him. His first interaction with me was to question my feelings towards her. He asked, "do you have a crush on her?", to which, I lied, saying we were just friends. Perhaps that was the beginning of my own undoing, but it was also the beginning of his as well. I resolved then to drive as much of a wedge between them as I could. Little, small things that could mount into a wider divide. I was being ultra-present, to deny them time alone. When she would bring him up, I would question him, his intentions, and his actions towards her. Once I made her doubt him, his doom would be sealed. I remember much of this coming to a head when I hosted that Interfaith panel I spoke about earlier in the r/atheism section of this essay, but as host I was running around the venue the whole time with a mic to field audience questions. I was very good. I remember discovering the girl I liked sitting with the boy I disliked, and I noticed an evident uncomfortable disposition in her, and a desparate obliviousness in him. He wanted her to be his girlfriend, she wasn't sure about it. But they were holding hands. I felt a fire burn through my circulatory system. This would not stand. So, I used the one weapon I had honed for the occasion, I snuck up behind them during intermission, and asked a simple, piercing question

Do you feel enlightened yet?

With that, I accomplished my goal of c*ckblocking and disrupting, demonstrating that I was present and aware of them, and that they were not alone if I was around. The rest of the night went off without a hitch, I had chased him away for now, and kept my friend single another day for me to stay close to. The other guy of course continued his own pursuits, long after my dysfunctional family had a collective meltdown that necessitated an early move back to Texas a whole year earlier than planned, but I had planted enough seeds of doubt, enough distrust of him and his shifty, possessive, manipulative nature, that he lost what little chance he had from the start. 

Or did I? Did she ever really like him? By her own admission she did, would it have ever mounted had I not weaseled and wedged my way into their relationship? Different parties will draw different interpretations. My power is not absolute, but my ability to persuade is relatively adept when juggling the right pieces and from a position of close enough confidence. I would have made for a terrible boyfriend. I knew that, even then. I never asked her out. My own closeted repression and angst over my insecurities about wielding power and manipulation and social engineering learned through my time crafting a mask through the theater arts led me to avoid getting close enough to hurt her. But I still had to tell her how I felt. Eventually. So I waited, and I waited, and then one night my mom and dad had a fight and my dad pulled out his guns for a late night "cleaning" and my mom laughed at him and told him to kill himself and I cautiously, and quietly, slowly, painstakingly carefully as my body was riddled with fear of a murder suicide(Some say its the way to go!), secretly moved my pillow and blanket into the garage, as my room was connected to it through a door. Not a sound was made opening or closing the door, and I lay on the floor, listening intently for any sound that would signal a need to call the police and run from my home. I didn't think my father would actually do anything. But I knew he COULD do something, the story of a man driven to the brink and going postal on his family is nothing new in the world of true crime. It was the remotest possibility, but one I needed to be aware of and prepared for. When the muffled crying of my father or mother ceased and the house returned to silence, and I no longer felt the impending dread of tragedy about to strike, as the clock neared an hour before it was time to "wake up" for my walk to school, I silently, carefully, noiselessly, moved back into my bed and waited for my mom to open the door to "wake me up", hoping it would be my mother and nothing more dangerous.

That was an awful day at school, spent on the verge of tears all day trying to process my own self-inflicted scrape with near death. I was likely never in any danger at all as my dad didn't go postal, but even as the remotest possibility it only made sense that I secure myself. I was a zombie mortified by the lingering drain felt from the flushing of adrenaline, unable to focus and oh so very sad. I eventually broke into tears when my English teacher inquired about my dismal condition. The fights between my parents continued, never escalating to the height, or perhaps low, from that dreadful one, but the dysfunctional family was dysfunctioning and soon enough it was announced that my dad was leaving his job, the very job we moved across the country to live under the income of, and would be returning home a year earlier than anticipated, as an emotionally, financially, and spiritually crippled household. Thus the burden of affection I had shielded so closely to my heart demanded an early release. I would tell her how I felt about her on the last day of school, so that there could be no awkward phase of recalibration, and perhaps more importantly, no painful reminder of the rejection I knew was coming. As, before she could turn me away, it was the good lord above who ensured we could never have a chance in the first place by sending me back to where I came from. So, I wrote two pages of a confessional, devotional, honest love letter declaring my truest feelings in as few words as possible. On the day of delivery I pulled her aside, gave her the paper, and opened my heart to her.

She laughed in my face.

"This is a joke, you're joking" was not the reply I had anticipated. An "I don't feel the same way" or "I wish you told me sooner but lets just stay friends" or even an "ewwww" were in the cards, but not outright denial of my truth. Perhaps I had kept my feelings too closely guarded, or perhaps with an unclear intent both in my heart and desires made it impossible to decipher what it was I had wanted from the friendship. And friendship is what I had wanted. But the feelings I had kept deep inside made me want more from a relationship that would have been doomed to long distance and a high school experience. I had simultaneously felt that she was "the one" perfect partner for me but was aware it was a doomed dynamic from outside my heart. Her father would never let it happen, living 2,000 miles away would make seeing each other impossible, and all other variables aside, its not what she wanted. I knew that ever since I met and secretly sabotaged the other guy. I listened as she gushed about other boys and kpop stars and all the little crushes she had informed me from the beginning that it was my heart which would end up being crushed. But letting go is such a hard thing to do. Letting go of that feeling you get when your phone lights up from a new message she sent you, the weightlessness of your steps as you walk together and talk about nothing, the hearty laugh when a funny joke is told. The eternal moment of being lost in someone's eyes. But I was a fool, and a determined one. Because as I said to my confidant at the time, "You can see a bullet coming, that doesn't mean you'll be able to dodge it".

The rejection pierced my heart as I knew it would, whether its delivery method was anticipated or not, and then I moved away. I left it all behind to return to a place I had hoped would be familiar, so that I could actually forget that crazy wacky no good year in the hell state. We returned to our family home which had been lent out to a friend of my mom's, so we had some sense of normalcy, as though we had never left. That all changed when we tried to go back to school. I lived in the city of Deer Park, and for all the years I had lived in the city of Deer Park I had gone to schools within the Deer Park school district. It was in this school district that my friends, and projected found family, resided. Despite our patchy long distance near fallout, and the chip on my shoulder I felt about their seeming ignoring of me, I was confident a return to an in person relationship at the big Deer Park high school would be enough to get us back on track. It was never meant to be. For, despite living within the city and going to the school district which shared its name, I lived in Deer Park city, but La Porte school district. 

La Porte was the next town over and for some zoning reason I do not know, my neighborhood was within its reach EVEN THOUGH the Deer Park High school was closer to my house than the La Porte High school. It was an extra five or so minutes of driving to go to the school I was "assiged" to. As it turned out, the only reason I had been going to Deer Park schools was because we once DID live in Deer park School District, when our family resided in a tiny apartment home complex called... "Park Town" during the first and second grade of my school years. Then, when my parents finally bought a house, the house we lived in from the third grade onto the eighth grade and returned to during my sophomore year of high school, we moved to La Porte ISD. I only stayed in Deer Park because I had been grandfathered into the system through its "open enrollment" system and my having stayed within that district for so long. When we appealed to return to the school we had known, we were rejected, several times. My mother even got so far as to talk over the phone to the superintendent of the district, a man who had previously been principal of my middle school who had multiple one on one meetings with me to congratulate me for my academic and extracurricular achievements, turned me away, sourly.

That rejection, the rejection of the culmination of all my acheivement and accolades that I had worked hard for, highest GPA several years in a row, second place in a district wide Theater Arts UIL competition, Theater Club President, Honor Society, being privileged enough to be bussed to the same high school I was now trying to go to because my innate talents and skill when calculating mathematics was two years ahead of my age group, a privilege only one other person shared with me, a school program he knew about, endorsed and had to approve for me to ever participate in. I'm not going on some ego-trip when I say that THIS person knew what I was bringing to his school district, and I was denied all the same. If you ever wonder when the disenchantment with academia and schooling in general began, it was sitting there and watching my mother face my rejection over the phone. All my hard work, overacheiving, and educational discipline meant nothing as I was cast away from the place I knew and left to be neglected in a school district that could not meet my needs.

What is disenfranchisement supposed to do to someone besides build resentment?

So to La Porte I went, during the blackout year that was Sophomore year of high school. When I transferred in, despite all my advanced curriculum credits and acheivements, I was placed in "normal" classes, which to me were not normal, but instead SLOW and BORING and UNCHALLENGING and CLASSES I HAD ALREADY COMPLETED. Most egregious was math, where I should have been taking Pre-calculus I was instead placed in fucking Geometry. Do you KNOW how far behind me was? I took Geometry in 8th grade, now as a Sophomore, I was taking it again! My discontent was made known when I informed the teacher my placement was an error that would be corrected. And soon enough, corrected it was and I was placed back on the correct trajectory, Advanced Placement or Pre-Advanced Placement over regular curriculum classes, and I had enough credits leveraged to be the sole sophomore student in Pre-Calculus, an advanced Junior-level class, placing me back in my throne of being two years ahead of my peers in mathematics. Though this time I sat alone, as my friend was now also alone at Deer Park in their advanced trajectories. To say I slept through Sophomore Year is a literal statement. I had not yet given up on returning to my stomping grounds in deer Park, and was convinced once Open Enrollment opened up I could be returned. So I sought no permanent ties and no reason to root myself at La Porte. When lecture was finished, and my busy work was done, I would place my head down on the desk, and I would sleep, or pretend to sleep rather, as often times I was just staring at the dark side of my eyelids, imagining being out of this awful place. I began efforts to reconnect with the world I spent a year away from. 

That first year in La Porte high school proved to be transformative for many. I felt an outsider among "my people" who didn't seem all too eager to spend time with or around me. My best friend had made a habit of lying and behaving in performative ways that were untrue to the person I grew up with. My few California friends, and the very special friends I had made through  the YouTube comments section that I only knew digitally, seemed to be the only real friends I had, and they weren't around to help me. They could only hear my cries of agony as I languished in self-imposed social exile at school, and suffered being the ugly buckling in my herd of deer. Things weren't any better at home. Teenage angst and a lifetime of dysfunction pitted my father and I against each other many, many times. if ever there was a worst year of my life, it was Sophomore Year, and it really isn't any wonder then why I don't remember most of it, and how much of it has been intentionally, or subconsciously blocked out and forgotten as the darkest time in my life. Dark, because there was an absence of light.

The only thing that shone through the dark was the school's AV class, which was carried by a kind bleeding heart named Mr. Z, who noticed my abilities within audio video production and sought to advance me into his pet-class, LPTV. I told him, rather coldly, it wasn't going to happen, not because I didn't want it, because I did truthfully really, REALLY wanted to be in that class, but because "I was going to go back to Deer Park". At the end of the year I signed up for the class anyways, just in case. Sure enough, I didn't go back to Deer Park. I was rejected, again, it stung less this time. By this point, I had just about given up on my old "found family". I didn't feel respected or involved, they never invited me to things, and when I would show up I was greeted with cold shoulders. I'm painting with a broad brush. Some of them liked me. Some of them maintained a friendship with me. But the group dynamic was gone, and I felt homeless. This isolation, it paired poorly with an unfortunately popular online trend at the time. As you may know, this was around 2015-2016, when the internet was at its edgiest. Filthy Frank, the content creator I had grown to idolize, as introduced to me by the girl I was infatuated by, became a model for my humor that was just not flying around the group I wanted to be a part of. In fact, provocative, "ironic" awfulness only ever ensured I drifted apart from them. They didn't have the context, they didn't have the intimate understanding of irony. They didn't know, that the person acting like an asshole wasn't trying to BE an asshole, but was just trying to make them laugh by behaving like an asshole, because its.... Ironic.

Or is it? It turns out that when you behave like an ass, people will view you as an ass. No amount of context, irony, or excuses change the outcome of your intentions. In going into their group chats to shitpost and say offensive or derogatory statements as a childish and immature form of "satire, social commentary, or pure comedy" I was further pushing those people I cared about away. In the end, it only made for the perfect excuse to leave me behind, one fateful night when my "trolling" took things to the logical conclusion. Discontent from disconnectedness, I pushed the line as far as I could until I crossed it, using edginess to be combative and truly playing on an offensive, I lit the the match that burned the tattered bridge between my former friends and myself. When confronted for my behavior I spoiled the safety of our space further by adding my online friends who none of them knew, telling my rallied forces that this was a trolling campaign in retaliation to wrongs done to me, that I was being ganged on and needed reinforcements. Ever loyal, my "true" friends stood by my side and dished out further damage, until any hope of restoring my old relationships was lost. The few who remained attached to me reached out for understanding, trying to figure me out, and wanting to be heard I attempted to rationalize my behavior, that I believed the old ties would need to be burned away so that new ones could be built over them, stronger than ever, likening myself to a phoenix and making known a desire for reconciliation. But who wants to reconcile with a belligerent? Why would you want to take the hand of the person who pushed you over and spit on you? Its easier to pick yourself up and walk away from the person who hurt you in the first place, so that's what most of them did. 

The two who stuck around, olive branches and good graces extended to me, only really served as a reminder of all I had lost in my blaze of ironic glory. I wanted them to make up for lost time and severed ties, I wanted the comfort and safety of the family I didn't have at home. They did what they could, I do believe, but no one can stay close to a burning flame forever, lest they be burned as the others were. I maintained these final friendships as long as I could, desperate for a place to belong, desperate for companionship and to be close to people who valued me, only to learn for the final time that I do not matter to people just because they matter to me. In attempting to find solace with one of these friends, I confided in him the stress I was under due to the volatile conditions at home. His response? "Stop talking about your problems".

What is a friendship, if we cannot struggle together? Lean on each other when times are hard, find safety in each others confidence? Well, the discontentedness reared its ugly head again, and let out a final roar. This bridge was to be burned to ash and left to settle in the river, never to be built again.

I grew antagonistic, picking fights, arguments, anything. Anything I could to provoke so that we could settle the space between us with a truth: DO NOT CROSS, we are not friends. Eventually, he bit and in some very spirited DMs I became the worst version of myself I could have been. I played the role of the villain, allowing him to be the victim of angry, hate-fueled lashing with words. Telling him everything I thought, everything I felt, and layering it all with language that would give me the appearance of evil, so that we could go from this false friendship into a new phase: former friends. I wanted him to hate me so that I would never have to think about him again. And amidst all the irony I claimed to post, the greatest was this: I've never stopped thinking about that friend.

Because I did him dirty, I sabotaged the frayed threads dangling our friendship on its ends, severing the connection with a finality that would leave no room for redemption. It is the one falling out in life I regret the most, and the one I carry the most shame over, because despite what perceived slights or interpreted falseness existed in the rippling reflections between us, he was my friend, and I did care about him. 

This self-destructive, "I will become the villain you made me into" was a recurrent motif in my high school years. When push came to shove, and trouble poked its ugly head out from hiding, I would release whatever pent up frustration existed inside me and wear it as a mask to become the phantom of my own terrible opera. Creating such despicable characters that would ruin the relationships I had once so eagerly cared for. There was another girl, many of you know the story, most of you at this point may not. I was troubled, and she was constantly in trouble. When I first fell for her I prophesized my own ruin of the friendship when I thought to myself what our future may look like. Rolling an 8-ball in my head, the outlook was not so good. We grew close, I learned of her boyfriend, I found every fault he had, every failure of a partner he embodied, and I poked, prodded, needled and sowed the seeds of their destruction, pulling loose threads and yanking carpets, I helped manifest a much-desired break-up. In my defense he was a loser who didn't understand consent and he desperately needed to be done away with, but my intentions where not so pure as protecting a friend, so much as they were to get this person single, now aided by the knowledge that he was despicable. So desperate to fill the gaps, I turned him and his silly, absent minded quotes into a running joke between us, helping grow us closer. We found ourselves on the phone every night, sometimes even Skype, in a time before discord, we'd fall asleep listening to each other breathe. Then there was another guy who came along, bolder than me, proclaiming his love for she. I realized then that I hadn't completed my machinations, having only made her single. I followed after him, detailing my desire. She relented, and the two of us agreed to "figure it out" and "take it slow". Little did I know, slow was merely a pace at which time could be bought for someone to come along much bolder than me, once again. In a dramatic twist of fate, this man abandoned his girlfriend to seduce the girl I was fixated on, wrecking it all in one fell swoop. Despite a previous promise I had made to not feel betrayed should she dare to stray onto a new path without me(for I swore my love was selfless and unwanting), all I could feel was fear, fear and rage and confusion at the alarming bell of rejection and failure. It didn't help that the situation at my home didn't fare any better, as my father struck my mother. All that timid mild-mannered patience burst once again as I let loose the anger I had buried within. Thus, we find ourselves in a loop, as I had written about this friend whom I hurt, back in the entry where I wrote about Hulk, Bloodrayne, and my father. In the fallout of my rampage in which I promised to become the evil one to be so despised once again, I simultaneously swore that I was to become a phoenix once more and be reborn. How many times was that, then? From a Christian baptised under a new name, to an atheist shedding off some shame, I fell to a new rock bottom after playing a heart's game. Neither would this be the last time, as I was again born again the day I stepped away from the degree I was expected to see. Then once more when I shed my hair to please all but myself. How many times must I be broken and remade before Robbie Bland ceases to mean anything at all? 

Whatever the case, lets tie up this knot: despite it all, the tumult and pain, the two of us eventually found a satisfactory friendship in which our wounds could be mended and our hearts healed over. Despite my manipulations and false intentions, I respected this friend enough to apologize and forgive. Something the people we left in our past paths often neglected to do. It took awhile, but I got over her too. That's when and why this blog was made. I felt I needed to vent without becoming sus, so I wrote here, into a void where no one would see or care, but me. My own little channel for accountability. A place to confess and profess, to avoid protest and getting lost in my own head. In truth, I've found this place to be a refuge and a safe place, a fortress of solitude to brood and reflect. I forced myself to a breaking point mentally and emotionally so that I could begin learning to let go. Let go of all the shattered pieces of my broken heart, let go of all the bruises left by my father's belt, and let go of all the hatred I bore for the man in the mirror. In the last 5 or 6 years, I've come a long way from hiding in the corner of my shared bedroom typing my insomnia away. I made a breakthrough big enough to share, and eventually found I could make this place a record of all the writings I've made. And why? Well, sometimes the answer is why not? I want to feel like people know who I am, and that they can accept me in spite of my flaws, my past, and my failures. I want to be known, and I want to get to know, all of you. To do that, I must first cast off the rags of shame that shroud me, and tell the truth. I am tormented by failure. I want to be a leader, but I fear that when trusted with the position I will let people down and hurt them. I often tell myself that power corrupts, but as I age I want to instead believe that power reveals. Not that it corrodes you and warps you, but instead brings out who and what you truly are. In that, I must strive to be the best I can be. My starting point, so that I may earn the love and the trust and the acceptance I so covet, I must first learn to love, trust, and accept myself, by loving, trusting, and accepting you.

And so this is what its all been about. Getting to this moment, letting my scars be visible, the proof of my shortcomings, the reveal of my sins and my sorrows, as Kratos reveals the scars left on his arms by the chains which seared into his skin when he accepted the blades of chaos and service to Ares, I want my friends, the truest family I have ever known, to see me and know me. When my dad was in therapy he would share some of the lessons he learned with me. One of the most sticking was the piece of wisdom his therapist gave him when he was told that we all "tell yourself a story" about your life. It can be a good story, a bad story, whatever the narrative, it informs your perspective and the things you see and interpret as you navigate life. If the story you tell yourself is that you are a victim, of circumstance, society, a bad upbringing, or whatever else it is that has done you harm, you will live as a victim of those things. If you tell yourself that everyone is out to get you, to betray you, to twist you into their own machinations and manipulations, you will begin to perceive your friends as opportunists and groomers or worse. If you tell yourself that because you have a disability, you'll never be able to get out of bed and live your life, then you won't ever try to live with that disability. You'll just lay in bed and rot. That is mostly where manifestation comes from. If you tell yourself you'll meet your true love at the shopping mall on Thursday, well, you're certainly going to go looking, aren't you? And that's where the limits begin, you can control your perception of events, people, and all things inbetween through the way you frame them, but you can't actually control them. When someone hurts your feelings, you can decide to linger on the pain, or work to move past it, but you can't stop that person from hurting you altogether. For a long time, the story I have told myself of my life is that I am my fathers' son, and that I am doomed to fail and fall into cycle after cycle as my fathers fathers before me. That despite my reformations, I am a dormant volcano waiting to erupt in awful fire one day, that I cannot be trusted to lead or to help because I am more likely to cause further harm than healing. Maybe all of these things are true, made true by precedent and environment and trauma and colorful re-interpretations of my own life story. But if life is what we make it, let us make good.

I will continue to strive towards a better self. Because if even the monstrous Ghost of Sparta can find redemption, so too can we, if we choose to be better.

Break the hard chains of fate, roads we walk we create, for our future are wide and vast, I can choose to be better, at last.

Afterword, Epilogue, Circling Back to Square One...

How fitting that as I wrap up this journal entry, Santa Monica Studios releases a FREE DLC to the newest game, God of War Ragnarok, "Valhalla" a series of challenge maps where Kratos re-lives some of his greatest battles as the Valhalla of the GOW world is a never-ending series of battles pulled from your own lived experiences, even the past you wanted to bury. Kratos eventually finds himself back in Greece, battling minotaurs and sirens, just like old times, even re-living past events, which are now vivid traumas as Kratos is made to confront his own worst decisions. Such as times he killed needlessly, selfishly, to forward his own goals, now forced to face the consequences of them and try to find new solutions. He even finds himself with a familiar and loathsome companion, Helios, the God of the Sun, whose head is strapped to his belt and constantly pesters and berates him for the evil he made Greece suffer upon the slaying of their sun god, plunging them into eternal darkness. This all culminates in a final, climactic, one-sided confrontation wherein Kratos stares down his past self, sitting on the throne of the God of War, and makes peace. Recognizing his growth, accepting his past and understanding it, and choosing to have hope for his future. Ultimately retiring to that dreadful throne, now with a newfound calm, as he realizes it can be a throne which gives people hope. Kratos chooses to be better. And so have I.

This year did not go entirely as I wanted. I'd say it went about halfway. My goals were somewhat met. I DID workout, pretty regularly until about September. I fell off hard, stopped getting regular sleep and eating well, and just kind of, coasted. I had gained, enough muscle that I COULD dress as Kratos without doing myself a disservice, but I still have a long way to go. I DID shave my head, as you all saw, and it has been well received. I don't like it very much, but what else was there to expect? I liked having long hair. I like the way it felt in the wind, now the wind just feels cold. I liked brushing it when I was bored, I liked the feeling of washing it when it was too greasy. I liked the way it looked in pictures when it was extra poofy and wild. I liked how untamed it could get and how that made me feel. I felt like myself. And now, I have the memories.

These were taken the night before, at my best friend Liz's bachelor party. The next day was the Halloween Party and then the day after that was his wedding. A packed weekend. It feels somewhat like looking at a ghost when I see these pictures(how fitting that someone aspiring to become the Ghost of Sparta sees themselves as a ghost?), receiving them so soon after I had shaved sent a deep series of butterflies into my system, I knew then what I still know now, I'm going to miss my hair. But it won't come back. I made this decision, I'm gonna live with it. Other people like it. No one has said, "I miss the way you used to look". Oh well. I can't go back even if I wanted to, it was already thinning and falling out on its own, in the process of re-growth it would only continue doing that. Maybe when I'm in my 40s and its socially acceptable again to have a partially bald head it can come back. Time will tell. I reject paying a subscription fee to some drug company to get a full head of hair, and I will never be vain enough to buy implants. Cosmetic surgery as a whole is kinda lame to me. I'm more interested in finding a way to embrace what nature has made me. I sold myself on the idea not because my friends told me I was ugly with my hair, but because I wanted to dress up as Kratos, and now that I've done it, the options for cosplay are wide open. I think of how the Epic Rap Battles of History guys keep their heads shaved because they always wear wigs and prosthetics and whatnot to become the different characters they portray in their videos, and I think I can chart my own path down that trail. After all, I've always enjoyed being Darth Maul...

In middle school and freshman year of high school he WAS my go-to Halloween costume for like 3-4 years in a row. I got so good at drawing his face-tattoos that I didn't need a reference photo(or figure) by the last few times. Instead of wearing a bald cap I would just put the hood up to cover my hair and only use those first three horns. Now that I have a shaven head, the possibilities are wide open. I can do a Darth Maul cosplay with a full head of horns. I'd just have to ditch the beard, for a little bit. It grows back fast enough I wouldn't miss it for long. I think that is what I will do. Darth Maul @ Star Bandits Halloween Party 2024.

In other news, I didn't quite get the finances together, in fact I only created more problems for myself, but I am figuring them out and keeping my head above the water. I've created an accountability system with my grandmas to create some long-term savings, and its being taken care of. I've gotten used to working a bunch to pay for this expensive life, and I have no intention of scaling back, just working harder. The pajama pants are off, the purple pants are in.

I've finished 4 stop-motions that are in various stages of editing. My 2024 game-plan is to post one video a month. Abandoning my previous "post it when its done" strategy. I'm developing a release schedule and a content cycle that will hopefully actually stimulate growth for blandclanvideos. I want to find a way to make money on this passion of mine, and I think I can get monetization in 2024 if I just don't let up. We will see! I've never felt more optimistic though. I finally passed 500 subscribers after ten years. The sky truly is the limit if I develop the discipline for consistency!

In other, bigger news I was able to put an original work to stage after the inaugural STARGAZE Theater Festival, brought to you by THE STAR BANDITS in association with STAR BANDIT FOUNDATION. I am a councilman and board member to this silly little found family and nonprofit of mine. My life enjoyed a full circle moment as after many long years since the 8th grade, where my short play I directed for the end of year showcase never made it to stage, a new debut show, "Robin Hood vs Dracula" written, directed by, and starring me got put to stage in its place, and it was loved. My crowd pleasing show was well received, and my confidence as a writer/director/actor have never been more affirmed. I finally feel ready to make Downturn. Just have to get my money up to pay for it... The future does truly look bright. I'm excited for what this new year brings. Not finding myself filled with an inner turbulence and dread, I don't know how much I will write in this new year. Instead, I feel much like the guy this has all been about, Kratos himself. I, kind of just want to sit here awhile...

Until next time, when my restless spirit needs to find solace in the clickity clack of fast moving fingers across a keyboard. I am Robbie Bland, and I am choosing To Be Better.

[social-change-blog-unst242]

Stakeholders

When discussing the stakeholders in the issues surrounding DACA I believe it is most important to consider who is affected by the program and how they are affected. The stakeholders who are the most affected are the undocumented immigrants who qualify for DACA. Their position is firmly in support of the program because it grants them important protections. The immigrants who qualify for the program and support it would very likely face a very negative situation if they were to be deported and so to them, DACA is necessary because the trajectory of their life can change based on DACA. 

Another group of stakeholders in issues involving DACA are the employers of DACA recipients. DACA recipients are statistically more likely to be earning lower wages than the average American. The people paying these wages, the employers of DACA recipients, benefit greatly from the fact that they can get away with paying DACA recipients and immigrants in general lower wages. They don’t want to have to spend more money on paying employees and so these employers have an investment in supporting DACA and keeping their employees here. 

One final group of stakeholders are MAGA Republican politicians who are against DACA. There are a lot of politicians that have built a platform off of MAGA ideology that is hateful and racist towards immigrants. They need to succeed in pushing back against DACA or else they will lose support. The main goal of a politician is almost always to maintain the support of their constituents so it makes sense they would feel immense investment in dismantling DACA if their support was dependent on that hateful ideology.

References

Getrich, C. M., Umanzor, D., Burdette, A., & Ortez-Rivera, A. (2023, July 5). DACA Recipient Health Care Workers’ Barriers to Professionalization and Deployment of Navigational Capital in Pursuit of Health Equity for Immigrants. Journal of immigrant and minority health, 1–7. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1007%2Fs10903-023-01506-0

Shoichet, C. E. (2020, June 18). This is who's affected by the Supreme Court decision on DACA. CNN. https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/18/us/supreme-court-daca-by-the-numbers/index.html

Vinopal, C. (2019, November 12). What ending DACA could cost the U.S. economy. PBS. https://www.pbs.org/newshour/economy/making-sense/what-ending-daca-could-cost-the-u-s-economy

[troidatoi]

Day 1 - 8/23/2023

Hi Tumblr!

I had one of you in high school but deleted it after college. I decided to make another just so I have a place to rant and vent about things that make me sad or angry or just things in general. I do journal but I'd like to use it for more positive things and manifestations or whatever. I turned on all the privacy settings so hopefully no one finds this. lmfao. I know all posts are public but I don't really know anyone in my life that has Tumblr anymore. I kind of just needed a place to fucking vent or rant. Today's Kobe's birthday so I'm trying not to be so angry today. (lol, sorry Kobe.) Okay so here goes. I just needed a way to let out my frustrations and so I was like why not Tumblr? I'd mainly be talking about my health and probably my frustrations with life in general.

Growing up, I've always been a big ass kid and you can tell and it showed in my pictures. Been bullied a lot for it from everybody including family. Had a kid threw a rock at me when I was little and said he hated fat people. My parents took me to a weight loss doctor where I cried my eyes out. I guess I always sought food out for comfort. I'm also an only child. I've always wanted to try and better my health but didn't know how, didn't really have the resources or money, and I was constantly surrounded by food. I kind of wish my parents had let me figure out how to do it on my own. I turned into this person with low self esteem, low confidence, hating what I looked like everyday, hanging out with my skinny friends back then was torture for me because I was constantly comparing myself to them (I know they loved me, wished I loved myself as much as they loved me). I hated that I fixated on the way I looked but hey that's what society has programmed us to do. It's easy to be like love yourself blah blah when you're not in the position of constant self hatred. I've tried calorie counting, diets, seeing a nutritionist (which helped a little only to later realized that it wasn't sustainable for me and I developed an eating disorder.) Although I'm pretty sure I've had an eating disorder ever since I was little and now I feel like shit every time I eat food or get scared to eat. I think the only person who I really saw results with and was sustainable was my personal trainer. (Shoutout Michael!) Hopefully, I can come back once I find a job again. (Can someone please fawking hire me already?)

So yeah going on a tangent, apologies! I started running when lockdown hit and I loved it but I also developed hammer toes and it hurt so much to walk and wear shoes. I went to a podiatrist and they were like get orthopedics and I was like okay but they were so expensive even with health insurance and I'm like okay well fuck this so I got surgery and I was so fucking miserable. lmao. I couldn't do anything and didn't leave my bad. It hurt so much to eat that I lost so much weight and I got so sad like crying for days. I realized I needed help if I didn't want k*ll myself so I called the hotline at midnight and it was nice actually. I've heard bad stories but thankfully the person I talked to listened to what I had to say and he brought up the Dodgers. lmao. And he was like maybe I'll see you at a Dodgers' game. I hit up a therapist the next day, a week later hit up a psychiatrist and was prescribed sertraline. (An antidepressant). The weight loss was crazy because I've never been that thin and I wasn't sure how to feel because it was deadass depression weight loss. I was happy with the weight loss but sad about how I lost it. I had so much loose skin that I also decided to do a tummy tuck, skin removal and thigh lift surgery and the recovery was such a pain in the ass but I felt so good and clothes actually fit. I should have probably waited till the next year because I took so much antibiotics that I found out I have leaky gut so I have to stay away from gluten, diary and processed sugar for the time being. (Hopefully cause my gawd I miss eating bread.) I have so much bloating, inflammation, joint pain, brain fog, acne breakouts, tingling sensations, pain on my sides and the list can go on. I went to my primary care doctors and a neurologist and they didn't really help much. Finally went to a holistic doctor and she figured out what was wrong with me and I know it's going to take awhile for everything to heal but I just want to stop feeling like this. (I also had surgery in 2013 to get an ovarian cyst removed and I didn't know I had it because everyone called me fat and they told me the cyst was making me bloated as shit.) I'm trying not to be resentful and look at the past but it's hard because there's so much trauma. Felt like my family didn't love me if I wasn't skinny.

My therapist said I should stop blaming myself but I can't help it. I know things are going to get better and I'm doing my part and putting in my best effort to heal and follow the treatment plan. I know I'm being impatient but for once in my life, I just want to be healthy again and enjoy food without being scared to eat it. Luckily, a healed gut is attainable so I need to keep fighting for it. I know it's going to be worth it in the end. I'm also paying so fucking much for this holistic doctor like I better have the strongest gut in the world and lose 100 pounds so that when I turn to the side no one can see me.

I am also in a lot of credit card debt and I know I'll pay it off once someone hires me but the job market is so fucking hard right now. Probably need to sell feet pics or find a sugar daddy to afford my lifestyle. (lmao jk, kind of) The way I applied to so many jobs the past week and a half is crazy. Just have to trust the Universe and believe and manifest.

Right now, I just really want to focus on healing my gut so I can eat yummy things again, getting a new full time job with higher pay and being surrounded by my loved ones. One of those things where I so badly want things to get better and it feels like no matter how hard I try, things seem to be moving slow. But they're moving, I guess? lmao.

I just want the best for me and it's going to happen because I deserve it and I said so and what I say goes. I hope you try your best to love yourself through this process and to know that things are going to be so amazing for you that you're going to wonder why you felt like this. The setback is stronger than the comeback. Remember that.

And one more time, Happy Birthday, Kobe. I miss and love you 24/8. <3

[venustransiens]

Week 5.5: We interrupt this broadcast

I was going to quietly post this on another blog/format and keep this blog “clean” and free of my complaints but it’s my thesis blog to show all the highs and lows of my last 6 months of grad school so why the hell shouldn’t I put this on here?

I don’t know if I am happy in academia in grad school or in anything like this. Every day I get on the internet(TM) and see someone talking about their work, studies, life being removed from syllabi or plans of study. I see students talking about entire degrees being dissolved or administration of liberal arts schools being literally fired by a governor??? or the collegeboard (the beast I hate so much) removing curricula from AP courses that is important for just basic human decency. 

None of this is new and I know that. But it is getting worse and every time I try to be a part of the “change” or functionally fix aspects of academia it all blows up in my face. I have been invited to speak at conferences about public discussions on education only for the conferences to be paywalled, invite-only, and in person. I have submitted work to journals at the request of conference organizers and been rejected on minuscule criteria in, what I believe, is an attempt to justify rejecting my field of research. Every day I come across new takes and bullshit that is being uplifted by these same academic institutions that rejected or belittled me and quickly I learn that what they really want to focus on is sterilized, white, cishet, ablebodied stories of academia, history, literature, everything.

And what happens when we try to change it? In the US, at least, we get pushed under a rug, develop health issues over the stress that we cant afford to take care of, and die far too young either due to stress, poverty, or a field that doesn’t support us. 

I love my studies and field so much it’s ridiculous and I want to stay connected to academia for my life and career (whatever career means now) but how can I want to do that when I am seeing the horrors of education at all levels in the US? How can anyone be expected to work in this field or study at these institutions now? 

I will finish my degree because at this point its out of spite. But what I do after is genuinely unclear to me. I entered graduate school ready to take on a PhD after and help change academia but I am soon to leave it more hopeless than before. I don’t know what the point of this post is, partially a vent and record keeper for myself later, but if you make it to the end of this then I guess it’s a warning about the education system currently and how you need to prepare for the absolute worst before accepting admission to an advanced degree in the united states.

[frogsdiary]

hello to myself

I am hoping that journaling here will make it easier for me to write consistently. Although I am a staunch advocate for pencil and paper formats, I have been struggling a lot to feel the urge to write in my journal. I think in part it is due to the fact that I am studying for the MCAT by taking handwritten notes. Essentially my hand hurts and its kind of off-putting to think of writing by hand more. Not to mention I hate having to break off my thought as I write to turn a page and continue. There is something highly unsatisfying about having to flip back a page to figure out where you left off. I have never written a post this long on tumblr so maybe scrolling will cause me the same annoyance but thus far it seems fine. Nevertheless, here I am writing to you. YOU being my future self or possibly a stranger. It is definitely an interesting feeling putting ones thoughts out to the public. I mean, as of right now I am not filtering myself whatsoever and I don't plan to. I think this is anonymously (right?) so really the only thing I would fear is someone I know reading my deep intimate thoughts. I guess that is counterintuitive since I have in fact put a photo of myself as my icon- maybe I should change that. Regardless, I feel there is little for people I know to pick at. We put so much of ourselves on the internet already, why not go ahead and put our raw thoughts out too. I do think this is more romantic then posting a cringey Instagram caption. By romantic I mean like romanticizing behavior, like pretending to walk thru a field of flowers in a flowy dress when in actuality your strolling down the sidewalk of your neighborhood. You could say I am obsessed with the idea of romanticized things- it makes everyday things seem far more bearable and interesting. The romantic moment of today is me currently pretending to be a super interesting anon internet penpal who no one would guess is me and who is super relatable and witty. You reading this right now are cackling along with me at how I'm not like the other gurls hehe. And YOU mysterious man reading this, thinking "omg I need to find this online cinderella! She is my soulmate" You're out of luck, I'm taken.Wow I really ramble. It's a lot more obvious when its the expanse of my computer screen instead of 3 pages in a notebook. Anyways, I already feel like I've worn out my welcome here even though this page is exclusively for myself and my mental health. I will leave this post as is for now but I hope to do this basically everyday.

[remix-of-your-guts]

just read through this, overall it's a fantastic resource and i recommend you all download and use it. however, there are a few common slightly incorrect or misinformed assertions in it that i want to take a second to address just for the sake of stronger advocacy, because i know many of you, like me, are having to do a lot of explaining the problems with zionism to liberals in our lives right now. they don't at all detract from the validity of the rest of the points in the booklet, and are mostly just minor corrections to incredibly common misunderstandings which i would assume made it through because the booklet seems (understandably) a bit rushed in its creation and presumably wasn't proofread heavily, as there were some typos in the english version and such (again, completely understandable given the circumstances).

firstly, the claim that because palestinians are semites, antisemitism targets them as well. it is true that palestinians are semitic people, so in a literal sense the word "Anti-Semitism" could include targeting them. but that is why most modern (predominantly left leaning) writers use "Antisemitism" (with no dash) because in modern usage it refers to the very specific and unique hatred of Jews. antisemitism has evolved long past a general discrimination towards people speaking semitic languages (esp considering jews didn't widely speak hebrew in day-to-day life until the creation of israel) and into the unique fearmongering, conspiracy theories, and dangerous right wing populism we know it as in the West today (and which of course feeds zionism).

secondly, the statement that judaism is not an ethnicity is... a bit strange. jews come in all races and ethnicities (due to conversion and intermarrying) but it is fundamentally an ethnoreligion, and there are undeniably various widespread jewish ethnicities (ashkenazi, shepardic, mizrahim, etc), and people who are ethnically jewish. my cousin being called horrible things, having pennies thrown at him, and being bullied for his nose as a child was not hatred of his religion so much as it was ethnically-motivated hate. these ethnicities also do, to a certain extent, all trace their lineage back to the land of palestine. modern dna tests are kind of bs and race and ethnicity are social constructs.

indigeneity is not just where you're from, if it was then jews would be indigenous to israel. i'm not indigenous to scotland because my ancestors were from there, just like all of us are not indigenous to sub-saharan africa because that's where humanity originated. if indigeneity was just being from a place, everyone on earth would be indigenous people to somewhere. palestinians are not the indigenous people here because they're more genetically from the land (and they are the indigenous people in this situation). being indigenous refers to a specific relationship with the land and experiences with settler-colonial entities. it's not so much an inherent genetic fact as it is a term for a role than many groups of people have been made into by colonialism. according to a study/interview with indigenous americans in the journal of current anthropology, "Our interviews and focus groups suggest that participants—through the articulation of indigeneity as experiential and relational in nature and inherently distinct from genetic notions of ancestry—resist much of the challenge presented by GAT (genetic ancestry testing) in usurping traditional forms of identity." (source: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7837598) again, modern dna tests are kind of bs and are not necessary to prove palestinian indigeneity (another source: https://www.amacad.org/publication/genetic-ancestry-testing-tribes-ethics-identity-health-implications) i also want to credit @decolonize-the-left, who i got most of this information about what indigeneity is and why it applies to palestinians but not israelis from. (also tagging them because i trust them to correct me if im unintentionally talking over or hurting palestinians here, because if i am ill delete this post immediately)

the reason im sharing this is because i've found these points really helpful in articulating the problems with zionism to liberals in my life (especially because so much of my family is jewish and therefore are quick to object to simple mistakes like misunderstanding antisemism or jewish ethnicity due to the influence of zionist propaganda, which is what this booklet is all about combatting!) and i want to make sure yall have the most effective and accurate advocacy.

bisan and other palestinians on the ground really are the authority on this issue and i don't want any of y'all using this as an excuse to discredit them, these are just some academic semantics that are not urgent in the same way advocating for palestine in general is urgent right now (though combatting accidental misinformation is always important to a certain degree). but nobody is perfect and i just want to make sure zionists aren't able to poke holes in y'all's advocacy because of small instances of being misguided or slightly misinformed like this. i hope this doesn't come off as talking over palestinians or derailing the purpose of this post, and if anyone who clearly knows more about this issue than me (palestinians obviously, anti-zionist jews, any indigenous people, actual academics, etc) feels that it is i will delete this reblog in an instant.

on her instagram story today (27/01/23) bisan posted a link to a 16 page booklet on common israeli propaganda and how to dismantle it to embolden advocacy for palestine. it includes the “october 7th”, “israel’s right to self defense” and “human shields” talking points to name a few as well as addressing the terminology used to describe palestine and israel and general advocacy advice

download it here

id: a screenshot of wizard_bisan1's instagram story posted 1 hour ago. first is text that says “Hi guys this booklet includes the history of Israhell* Propaganda.. it’s available in Arabic, English, German, Chinese Mandarin.. you can download it and advocate for Palestine”. second is a blue hyperlink reading “link to the booklet”. third is an image of the Advocating For Palestine website showing the front cover of the booklet in english