#these human contradictions confuse me. they irritate me when it affects me. but i also genuinely want to know why you people are like this

[autisticlee]

i've been friends with more self-proclaimed people pleasers than ones who are not, but they never try to please me. not saying they *should* but is unfair they please everyone else and leave me hanging or frustrate me and don't seem to care like they supposedly do about everyone else. i'm talking about just giving me bare minimum things I ask for. common simple decency like answering questions when I ask. communicating with me properly and giving in the friendship instead of my taking from me.

they will go out of their way to do things they don't want to or things they shouldn't to please everyone else and tell me how they feel horrible because they can't do something for others. but when I ask them a question, no response. ask to hang out, it's always no. ask got help, they can't. it's only me they do this to lmao just confuses me sometimes.

I mean good they can actually set boundaries/say no after telling me they can't. but learn to do it to people you need to. not just me lmao. help yourself and use that ability on the right people. not me who isn't trying to use and exploit you and just wants good communication and normal friendship and connection that you keep denying me of 😭😔

[mysoulisablackwolf-blog]

Otherkin Challenge Post

I saw this and thought it would be fun. It also looks like a great way to vent, since no one I love knows about my kin identity..

1. What name do you go by? What is the significance of it to you?

My name is Briana, but I got by Breanne, a name from Englund during the time range of which werewolves/beasts were prevalent.

2. How old are you? (If you don’t mind sharing.) What is the gender you identify as?

I'm 21 years old, and female.

3. What is your Otherkin/Therian species?

I'm still trying to find a "label", but I would say Werewolve/Beastkin. Some sort of large monstrous canine creature.

4. How long have you known that you are Otherkin? How old were you when you Awakened?

I've been otherkin since I was 4, but I didn't find the term until highschool, so I guess I was awakened when I was 16. I was literally forced as a child to start "acting human." No more outside playtime, crawling on all fours, howling and barking and growling at people. I was a little heathen as a child, but I'm glad I got to express myself.

5. How did you find the Otherkin community?

A friend of mine who is a Kitsune (apologies if I butchered that), she showed me otherkin and Tumblr and Kinmunity, hoping that if I went back to therapy with this information it would help ease my depression.

6. How does being Otherkin affect your life?

It's mostly the depression. Not knowing who or what I am fully but still having these memories and flashes/glimpses of myself. It's like a constant dizzy spiral and I can't make it stop.

7. Are you "out of the metaphysical closet"? If so, to whom?

Barely. A few friends who I've grown apart from. I think if the man who raised me knew the term, he'd just know that I am. Nothing gets by him.

8. How did/would your family react to you being Otherkin?

I think they would shut me down. They've done it once before when I came out as nonbinary, and now that I've had a child, they think they won that argument. It's very disheartening.

9. What does being Otherkin mean to you?

It's a way to express myself/feel normal again. I've never felt human and I thought I was the only one. Now I see others with the same feelings and I feel at home in my own body.

10. How do you believe you came to be Otherkin? Is it a psychological connection? Were you reincarnated? Explain.

I very much believe I was reincarnated. I've always had a huge fixation on Englund during what I think was the 1700s. When werewolves and vampires and monsters ran rampant. I even have memories of men I've slayed in the types of clothes and homes you would of seen back then. I just can't pin point was exactly I was...

11. What do you hope the Otherkin community will be like in ten years? Are you for public awareness or against it? Why or why not?

I think it'll be stronger, hopefully with less misconceptions. I am for public awareness in the sense where if I go to a friend, they dont shun me. Or if I go to therapy, they know exactly what I'm talking about and can tell me, "Hey it's normal and this is why." I want all of us to be seen as normal.

12. Do you have phantom/astral limbs? What are they and how often do you feel them?

I do, I have a tail, a huge, kinda whippish, dog tail with fur. I can feel fur all over my body, excluding my stomach, at the weirdest times. I've grown out my nails and filed them so they now match as close as possible to the claws I feel. And lastly, if I focus hard enough, and there's wind outside, I can feel ears on my head that kinda sway or flop in the wind, depending on its strength.

13. Do you mental-shift? Have you ever harmed yourself or someone else during one?

I've had a few that just happened, and I didn't really know/register what was going on. I was alone for the majority of them so I've mostly just calmly idled, but there's always the urge to hunt something down, so I might end up hurt/hurting.

14. Have you ever mental-shifted at a time when it could be considered inappropriate?

I think so. We were in the car and the windows had to be rolled down because there's no AC. I closed my eyes and instantly felt a snout, fur, ears, the whole nine. I felt like the world melted away and I just enjoyed the wind in my fur. Then my friend snapped me out of it and said I looked like I had completely zoned out.

15. Do you Astral Project or practice any occult crafts?

No. Not quite talented enough.

16. Do you feel you are any sort of danger to society?

Probably more towards myself or animals than society. I do have an insane urge to hunt but nothing more.

17. Does your nonhuman identity complicate every day life for you? If so, how?

Not so much complicate, just makes me exhausted and depressed when I have to go out in the world and do things. I'm a very solitary creature, much rather be alone and talk on the phone versus be out with people or at a party. It makes me a twinge angry/irritable and anxious.

18. Why do you believe you are here as a human?

I didn't understand why until I had my son. Now I'm here to be a mother and raise my child as my father raised me. But before that, I was nothing...

19. Are you active among the Otherkin community?

I am, but I tend to be active while everyone else is asleep. I'm nocturnal.

20. Are you religious? What faith do you follow? Does it contradict your Otherkin identity or do you feel that the two are synonymous somehow?

I believe in a God or even the possibility of multiple Gods, but that is the extent of my religious beliefs. So, I just live my life and sometimes pray as a way to get answers on why my life is so..weird.

21. Have you ever been emotionally, verbally, or physically harassed simply for being Otherkin?

Not yet. I've been very selective on who I tell. The only person I want to tell is my husband, but he refuses to listen. He thinks it's a Furry thing. I guess I'll let him be blissfully ignorant.

22. Do you feel you are oppressed because you are Otherkin?

Not oppressed by society like a person of color or a trans person, just kinda oppressed by my husband. I dont understand why he would question something I do then not let me explain it. I know he still loves me or else I wouldn't have the life I do, it's just confusing.

23. What is your take on fictionkin/mediakin? What about machinekin and appliancekin?

I don't quite feel comfortable with "Factkin", but anything else, that is their identity. I shouldn't have and possibly will never have the ability to judge or say anything about someone else's identity. If that is you, it's you.

24. Did the awakening process seem relatively easy, or difficult to you? Why?

Very easy, in a sense that I already knew I wasn't human and I just needed some help realizing I wasn't alone and that it was ok to feel that way. Difficult because I still can't tell exactly what I am, so I go by werewolve.

25. What do you think of the information provided online about Otherkin, is it relevant or not?

I believe its relevant. It definitely helped me come to terms with myself, and talking to veterans (as we call them) helped me a lot too. It just depends on the articles and people you talk to.

26. How has your Otherkinity/Therianthropy defined you as a person? Do you feel as if it has given you morals that you didn't have before?

It's given me an identity, but it's only taught me to be more open minded and tolerant of other people's identities and ideas and questions,etc.

27. Have you learned any life-long lessons due to your Otherkinity? 

To be more tolerant and open minded.

28. What do you want to do with your life?

That's a tough one. Firstly, raise my son to be an amazing, tolerant person in society, and secondly, be who I am. Even if it means living out in the woods for eternity, so be it.

29. Do you have any tips or advice for young and newly-Awakened Otherkin?

Seek help. Seek out a veteran. Let people question you. It may annoy you to no end, but it helps in the long run. Most importantly, remember, you are you. You are valid.

30. Anything else you'd like to share with us?

Respect others and their identities.

Be kind.

Remember, you are you.

Awwooooo.

Original is by @justanotherkin

[gentlemanmendes]

Ramadan

A/n: I just thought it would be cool to write something about Ramadan and maybe give others an insigt of what it’s about. 

Warning: Shawn x Muslim read, mentions of starving and not eating so might be a trigger to some. Also not proof read

“I can’t.” Was y/n’s simple response when Shawn had suggested they go and get lunch before he had to begin the meet and greet as well as sound check.

Not being able to contain his frustration anymore Shawn let’s out a heavy sigh as he allowed his face to contour as he frowned to himself.

Over the past week he had noticed that y/n hadn’t been eating and he wanted to know why. Instead of joining them for breakfast every morning she would choose to stay in bed, when Shawn brought her a coffee she hadn’t touched it, at lunch y/n would find any excuse to skip out on that as well and the only time he would notice her eating was dinner. Was y/n going through something emotional? Did she not like the way she looked and thought she needed to loose weight? Shawn thought he had done everything in his power to make sure y/n knew just how beautiful she is but now he was beginning to second guess himself.

“I’m going back to the hotel.” Y/n informed ashamed as she gathered the few belongings she had brought along with her. “I have some work I need to do but I’ll see you tonight.”  She stepped up to him giving him a peck on the lips as she hoisted her bag up on her shoulder. Shawn knew that this was just an excuse to be left alone making it easier for y/n to starve herself but he didn’t know how to handle the situation. If he said something wrong he could risk only making matters worse which was the last thing he wanted. He wanted y/n to trust him and come to him when things were wrong, he didn’t want to probe her into telling him.

***

“That was a great show as always!” Y/n praised as Shawn ran off of the stage.

“Thanks.” He smile sheepishly as he walked side by side with his girlfriend backstage.

“Now can we please go get something to eat? I’m starving!” Y/n laughed as she rubbed fast circles on her tummy causing Shawn to frown to himself. However he didn’t question it glad that his girlfriend wanted to eat. Maybe it had been a small phase and she was now over it.

“Yeah is the hotel restaurant okay? I’m not really in the mood to go out.” Shawn admitted causing y/n to nod in agreement.

***

Another few days had passed and Shawn had realised that y/n’s habits hadn’t changed. She would go all day without food and then when dinner time came around she would eat a small amount.

She didn’t seem to realise that Shawn had picked up on her bad habit and continued to play it off coolly.

“I’m going to get some lunch, does anyone want me to bring them anything?” Geoff offers as he gets up from the couch and makes his way to the door. Shawn agrees but y/n shakes her head in dismiss, no surprise to Shawn. As soon as Geoff has left shawn realised that this had gone on for way too long and it was time that he did something about it.

Watching y/n search through her bag attempting to look for something Shawn takes this as he chance.

“You know you are beautiful just the way you are.” Her actions stop at Shawn’s words she couldn’t help but give a sheepish grin as attempted to hide her face behind her hair. It still surprised her that Shawn’s sweet nothings still had such an affect on her after all this time.

He always complimented and praised her and each time it managed to bring butterflies to her stomach. Shawn had a way of constantly making y/n feel confident and beautiful, she wasn’t sure if it was the confidence that radiated from him that affected her or of it was his compliments but she didn’t care, all she knew was that she loved the feeling.

“And you don’t have to change a thing about yourself.” Being too consumed in her own thoughts y/n hadn’t realised that Shawn had made his way towards her until his arms were wrapped around her waist holding her against him causing her to let out a giggle in surprise.

“I know. I don’t want to change anything abut myself anyway. I’m me and that good enough.” Y/n added as she stared up at Shawn giving him a reassuring smile.

“Then why the hell won’t you eat?” Shawn huffed in irritation, y/n’s contradicting words frustrating him. Frowning slightly to herself, y/n  stepped out of shawn grip confused by his sudden change in mood. “Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed y/n? It’s kind of obvious.” He began letting out his frustration. “You don’t eat at all during the day and then at dinner you only eat a little.”

Shawn realised that letting his temper get the best of him wasn’t a good idea and attempted to compose himself before continuing.

“Y/n there are better ways to loose weight, healthier and more lasting ways. You don’t need to starve yourself. Please think of the people that care about you and how this might affect them.” Shawn’s words were spoken softly as he attempted to show y/n just how harmful her actions could be.

For a moment y/n stayed silent her frown still in place but as she began to put it all together she couldn’t help but burst out into a fit of laughter. This only confused Shawn completely, making him feel like somewhat of an idiot. Had he missed something? What was so funny that had made y/n burst out into a fit of laughter.

“Shawn, I’m not starving myself. I’m sorry I thought you already knew.” Y/n continued to laugh only confusing Shawn more.

“Knew what?”

“It’s the month of Ramadan.” Y/n shrugged off like it was common sense. However Shawn’s deepening frown til her he was only left more clueless by her statement.

Sighing she made her way to the edge of the bed and gestured for Shawn to come and sit next to her which he did.

“So you know how I’m Muslim,” y/n began causing Shawn to nod. He had always been respectful of y/n’s religious beliefs which was a comfort to her. Having not been with a Muslim guy had brought up some conflict with her family but Shawn’s respect was enough to calm her parents a little. “ well we follow the Luna calendar and in the ninth month we have our holy month of Ramadan. It was the month the Quran was sent to the prophet Muhammed. So for a whole month from dawn until sunset we can’t  eat, drink, smoke, or have sex. We also need to take this chance to focus on bettering ourselves as people as in no lying, fighting, cursing, and practising more religion like reflecting on the Quran and bettering ourselves as human beings.” Y/n began to explain watching as realisation washed over Shawn’s confused features. “The reason why, it’s because fasting is said to redirect the heart away from worldly activities, think of it as a cleanse for the soul. It also teaches us more self-discipline, self-control, sacrifice, and empathy for the less fortunate who have to go through this on a daily basis.” Y/n continued watching as the spark of curiosity lit up on Shawn’s face.

He paused for a moment taking in what she had said as he nodded to himself in agreement.

“Well now I kind of feel stupid.” Shawn admitted sheepishly causing y/n to laugh.

“Don’t feel stupid, I should have told you sooner. I just thought you already knew.” She shrugged to herself.

“Well why are you only eating a little at dinner? You should be eating more then what you’ve been eating.” Shawn noted causing y/n to shrug to herself.

“I guess my stomach shrunk.” She admitted only now realising that she hadn’t been eating as much as she probably should have.

“Well it’s not healthy! From now on I’m picking out your dinner and making sure you get enough food in you.” Shawn declared causing y/n to let out a sigh.

“Great I’m going to be the first person in history who manages to put on weight in Ramadan.” She sarcastically sighed causing Shawn to grin to himself.

He tsked teasingly causing y/n to frown.

“Your supposed to be bettering yourself as a human being, no sarcasm for you missy.” Shawn noted causing y/n to roll her eyes.

“Good to see your learning fast.” Y/n added rhetorically.

“Shit, I told Geoff to get you a sandwich anyway. Now I’m going to have to eat it.” Shawn noted causing y/n to laugh.

[how2to18]

WHAT TO MAKE of a trilogy of novels written in three different decades and published as one tale with an enigmatic name? A trilogy in which each novel declares its intended genre in its subtitle: a love story, a crime story, a science fiction story? A volume of 500 pages that spans Heaven and Earth as it takes on no less than the entire tapestry of human life as its subject? It’s an intimidating project, for both author and critic.

We might begin with the assumption that Sjón, the author of CoDex 1962, is skilled and sensitive enough to pull all of this off, that he is not merely displaying hubris and pretension, and that he is, in fact, one of the century’s great novelists, a man composing an oeuvre of masterpieces playful, self-referential, and genre-spanning enough for the 21st century. A writer who can spin a zany mystery dependent on corrupt philatelists and a purloined gold tooth may indeed be that.

We’d move on to consider the writer’s project on the sentence level, and his skill at character development. Is his language sufficiently well tuned and pleasing? Yes, he writes beautifully, thoughtfully, leaping from bawdy jokes to lyrical considerations of life and death. The 500-plus pages of the trilogy clip along as if the book is half that length. (All possible applause to the translator, Victoria Cribb, who has made the arduous task of transferring Sjón’s wide-ranging style and ready wit from Icelandic to English seem as if it must have been fun.) And his characters — even those as well trodden as the Archangel Gabriel — have lively voices and definitive motivations.

What about arc and structure? What about Barthes’s five narrative codes? Yes, all of these are in place, juggled lightly, as if they weigh nothing. Cultural code: biblical allusions abound, particularly in the first two books of the trilogy, which tell tangential stories about Gabriel becoming disillusioned and chasing after a maiden, among others. Underpinning the project are the Icelandic Sagas, the foundational texts of Sjón’s (highly literary) nation. Semantic and symbolic codes: ideas stand for other ideas so commonly that it’s not clear whether anything stands for itself. Is the clay child at the center of the story a revised Adam, or is he a new creature of Sjón’s own mythmaking? Is World War II the primary wound of Leo Loewe, the protagonist of the first two books, or is it the primary wound of the 20th century, and thus of every character in the trilogy? Proairetic and hermeneutic codes: the trilogy’s narration and the clay child’s fate are consistent mysteries resolved only in the middle of the third book. The tension of these mysteries makes every page hum.

CoDex 1962 opens in Kükenstadt, Germany, sometime in the mid-20th century. In German, this name translates to “chick city” — the town is named after a small statue of a chick “caught mid-sprint, its neck thrust out and head raised to the sky, beak gaping wide and stubby wings cocked.” In Swedish, however, it translates to “dick city,” an interlingual joke that cannot be lost on Sjón, whose puckishness and non-misogynistic treatment of sex are lovely, constant companions for the reader. (We may still be on page one, but this single detail and its dimensions are representative of the work that follows.)

The first two books of the trilogy are narrated by an unknown party to another unknown party who often interrupts and replies. Both speakers have a sense of humor, and the listener often has to yank the speaker back to the subject after extensive tangents. Their dialogue often feels Socratic — as in the Crito, perhaps, only without condescension:

“Not more stories!”

“But this is a literary allusion.”

“So what?”

But who or what is the subject? In the first book, Thine Eyes Did See My Substance, it seems to be a concentration camp escapee named Leo Loewe, who is taken in and nursed back to health in Kükenstadt by a maid, Marie-Sophie. She ultimately helps him to sculpt a clay boy he has smuggled in a hatbox. But the unknown narrator (potentially Sjón himself at this stage) frequently interrupts this narrative to tell fairy tales, Marie-Sophie’s unfortunate story, anecdotes of angels and biblical figures, and even, charmingly, the multifarious dreams of the citizens of Kükenstadt:

“Fräulein R— is standing by the blackboard with the class register in her hand, watching a white cat that is lying on an open atlas on the desk, giving birth to black kittens on the Atlantic Ocean.

The kittens slide out of the cat as if they were on a conveyor belt, and answer Fräulein R— with a feeble squeaking when she reads out the names of my classmates.

I wait in terror for my turn to come.”

Heinrich L—, 13 years old

The second book, Iceland’s Thousand Years, leaves Marie-Sophie and Kükenstadt behind entirely and picks up in 1944, when Leo immigrates to Iceland. Nearly 15 years later, after a series of farcical bureaucratic encounters reminiscent of those in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, he attains Icelandic citizenship. The farcical tone continues as Leo finds companions — a Soviet spy and an American boxer — to help him steal a gold tooth out of the mouth of an unscrupulous stamp dealer; the gold, in the form of his signet ring, was stolen from Leo when he was a concentration camp prisoner.

None of this is terribly clear at the time it’s narrated, but it eventually becomes so. This is true for a great deal of the action of this trilogy, which is often derailed or disguised by tangents, humor, or self-reflexivity, a practice that serves the overarching tensions resolved in the third installment. Leo must have his signet ring back to give life to his clay boy, Jósef, who is “born” at the end of Iceland’s Thousand Years, on August 27, 1962. It is not happenstance that Sjón and Jósef Loewe share a birth date.

Unsurprisingly, the third book of the trilogy, I’m a Sleeping Door, is not as joyful or fraught with tangent as the first two. Twenty-two years separate the publication of the first and final installments of CoDex 1962, and few novelists lighten up as they get older. Plus, this last novel deals extensively with death while transforming much of the fancy of the first two books back into realistic, unmagical incidents. To say more would be to spoil the experience of reading the first two books, but in brief, certain long-sustained mysteries, once resolved, become somber facts of life and mundane piles of paperwork.

The meaning of the trilogy’s title becomes clear, as well. CoDex is the name of a company that investigates genetic anomalies appearing in people born in Reykjavik in 1962, Jósef Loewe (and Sjón) among them. I’m a Sleeping Door also contains an ever-growing list — a codex — of the births and deaths of those same people. Multiple chapters are given over to this list, which is accompanied by a kind of continuing stage play that mourns their deaths, as ever more children born that year die even if they survive infancy. Every one of these chapters ends the same way: “Dear brothers and sisters, born in 1962, we await you here.”

Beyond that, the trilogy is a codex in a more obscure sense. It stacks up stories in a disorganized way, moving from one idea to the next without warning or precedent. So although it’s nothing like a catalog or encyclopedic record, it is a codex of the human condition:

A person is a composite of the times they live through — a combination of the events they have witnessed or taken part in, whether willingly or not; a collection of dreams and thoughts, whether their own or strangers’; a concoction of deeds done by themselves and others, whether friends or enemies; a compilation of stories remembered or forgotten, from distant parts or the next room — and every time an event or idea touches them, affects their existence, rocks their little world and the wider one too, a stone is added to the structure that they are destined to become […] [T]hey will only be complete when there is nothing left of them but ruins.

CoDex 1962 records many genres, modes of feeling, and personal histories. It splits its attentions unevenly between Leo, Jósef, and a handful of other characters, and it does not resolve many of its conflicts. However, the sprawl of the trilogy, the messiness, the tonal contradictions, the storytelling that often confuses and occasionally bores — all these qualities offer a window into the broader human story that a novel coloring strictly inside the lines could never achieve. It’s a risky, funny, sexy, entirely unique book, and its odd corners make it easier to love.

Few questions remain at the trilogy’s close aside from threads the author clearly dropped with no intention of resolving them, despite the listener’s assertion that “[e]veryone has the right to have their story told to the end.” The only significant question left is whether these collected novels add up to something. I’m not sure they do. CoDex 1962 is a delight and a resounding literary achievement, but it’s lesser than the sum of its parts. Despite all the biblical references and the role of World War II and the deft genre-mixing and the 20-some years of authorial effort represented here, I’m not sure it says anything profound. Except that life is discrete and finite, ever bordered by birth and death. Which is not a lesson I needed a novel to teach me.

But then I consider the project of postmodernism, and whether a postmodern novel has to add up to or say anything, and it doesn’t, really. It can meet all of Barthes’s specifications and still not contain life-changing meaning. It can just be itself, a lark, an art object that makes the world a little more interesting for a spell. Besides, this book springs from a different literary tradition than American novels do, one older and wilder and more magical than our irritating Puritan roots.

Perhaps that’s why CoDex 1962 dissatisfied me: I sought a lesson in the Calvinist sense, but I shouldn’t have. Sometimes, particularly in Sjón’s reckoning, gods and mortals play and rut and steal and laugh, and that’s all there is to life. As Jósef narrates near the end of Iceland’s Thousand Years,

But if you, dear reader, continue with this tale, in spite of my confession that what follows is nothing but make-believe, there’s one thing I can promise you in recompense: it’s an incredibly exciting story that will hold you gripped to the very end.

¤

Katharine Coldiron’s work has appeared in Ms., The Guardian, VIDA, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. She lives in California and at kcoldiron.com.

The post The Whole Human Tapestry: Sjón’s Sprawling “CoDex 1962” Trilogy appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[someonetotaketheedgeoff-blog]

2.10.2018 - Journal (Feminism)

(Written on 26.06.2018)

For me procrastination is completely interlocked with addiction. I’m addicted to putting shit off. Why?

All I do is scroll on my phone and smoke. Occasionally I make shit and get a few important things done but then I go back into melt back into a procrastinatory coma,

almost not existing and/or having no control over anything I do. It’s terrifying really. I’m afraid of my own lack of self control.

I’m afraid of not living the fullest life I can. Due to being afraid of living the fullest life I can live (not knowing or knowing the full extent of your potential is a terribly conflicting idea. You’ll never find out what it is and you’ll only figure it out by trying. You continue wandering down your own personal dark cave of potential potential, crossing your fingers so hard they contort and almost snap as you pray that the cave doesn’t end. Many people reach some point in there lives where they just decide to set up camp in the dark somewhere and call it a day. They watch as others walk past. As they get older and more bitter they’ll spit and screech at the passers by - ‘Yeah don’t worry about going any further mate, there’s nothing there, I’m sure of it. Nothing but blackness ahead… Spoiler alert you never figure out who you are, it’s a myth, it’s a load of bullshit, come sit by the fire and drink with me… and I’ll tell you stories about myself that I wish were true but have been so beaten down by fear I can’t remember what’s real any more anyway’).

It’s pretty ironic. I’m attached to my life and not at the same time. There’s a group of contradicting  voices within me. Which I believe is what the idea of nihilism does to the mind. Nothing means anything and everything means something.

After watching Nanette and the recent death of Eurydice all I think about is how cooked the world is. How cooked it is for women and people that aren’t white, straight and male. Yet I’m on top of the food chain and still struggle to be ‘happy’.

No one wants to hear that though. Of course they don’t want to hear it. It’s irrelevant. When there’s an imbalance you don’t want any focus on anything other than what’s creating the imbalance. You don’t want some straight white guy, that grew up with nice supporting intelligent parent’s with money that fostered any fucking thing I wanted to do saying they struggle to be happy.

This disclaimer’s important. It’s never been my point to try and receive sympathy or claim that my problems are on par with anyone else’s problems. I’m simply regurgitating my experiences (i.e having a massive whine on the internet).

It is worth noting though that even at the top it (can) still suck. But that’s not what oppressed people are concerned about. They’re concerned because of the insane crime of being oppressed and treated as if they’re not human.

I don’t really know why that’s my knee jerk quip to the current situation. It’s probably a very selfish one. Probably a defensive one. To basically be like - ‘Well… just so you know ladies, it’s still horrible up here at the top… so you know… no rush’. Which’s a horrible thought that came from brain, but I don’t want to be a bad person, so I’m sharing it with you.

It’s difficult because it’s true and that’s confusing. But it’s a waste of time because it’s not helping equality if I take up hours of days writing think pieces about how minorities haven’t been so unlucky as to be equal so that they can enjoy the fruits of nihilism to it’s full extend and various other irritating philosophical conundrums. The fact that life’s a struggle even when you’re on the top is something to talk about later, not now.

(I’m sharing this thought process because I’m ashamed of it. I want everything to be good and kind and equal and I want people to have the best lives they possibly could)

Perhaps it required the anger and insanity of all the shades of feminism to get the world to listen. And you know, if for the price of people (males) at least beginning to talk about things was due to 17 ridiculous BuzzFeed videos about the dangers of man-spreading! Then you know that’s OK.

The problem is there are many aspects and pockets of internet feminism that’re kind of crazy, kind of nit-picking and overly extreme. Things such as mansplaining’s problematic because it can be sexist in itself if you’re a women being talking to by a guy about something and you just assume they’re talking down to you because of your gender, unless that information is revealed at some point (or if after further investigation and several miracles that particular guy admits he was talking down). It’s specifying and dangerously locking down aspects of being a cunt and assigning that behaviour to a gender.

The man spreading thing is also very over the top and overly dramatic. And you know what, bloody unnecessary! Very nit picking and strange! It’s such a strange and small thing to get all angry about, why would someone care so much about someone sitting on the train with slightly spread legs? It’s just crazy feminazis. I just don’t understand! I mean why would women be so nit picky about such a minor thing? It’s not as if there’s an inherent under-hum of neck hair prickling fear within all women all the time, 24 hours day, for their whole lives that a man might kill or rape them! No… that’d be ridiculous.

I’m explaining this stuff in a cheeky manner to hopefully gain your attention.

I believe that on a surface level that things such as ‘mansplaining’ and ‘manspreading’ are strangely specific and they’re issues that completely isolated are irrelevant. But they come from a place, a fucked up darker place (that shit doesn’t just come out of fucking no where).

I believe shit like ‘mansplaining’ and ‘manspreading’ are partly responsible for why ‘feminism’ (at least on the internet) is a complete fuckfest. And why some people (mostly males again) believe the word to mean - ‘We hate men, we want to be the top dogs, I wish to be on a throne while men in gimp suits scurry around my feet offering a silver cup of their tears’.

I believe it’s because people, men and women, see something specific, something like ‘mansplaining’ or ‘manspreading’ and that is all they see. Maybe they’re young, they haven’t experienced much and haven’t begun to explore and research. And unfortunately the small window of opportunity in their minds gets filled with that and they shit and they shut off completely. And as we all know Pablo Honey wasn’t a very good album.

They see that and go ‘oh well that ridiculous, they’re winging about me spreading my legs on a train… wow ridiculous’.

And all the women are like - ‘Well yeah mate… Because you rape us and you kill us…’.

But at that point it is too late. The guys already making Feminist’s Get Destroyed Comp 7 on YouTube.

Talking to a friend she told me she ‘hates men collectively, not individually’. Laying in bed later that evening flicking that thought around like a Rubix cube made out of penis’s I flipped it on it’s head and imagined I said the sentence - ‘I hate women collectively, not individually’. Aha! I thought. That will just not do, that’s fucking sexist! That’s a load of horseshit. After I calmed down and my non-opposable thumbs were sore after pounding them on the glass of my enclosure I looked across at my cave paintings, at all the boobs I’d drawn, and various other blog posts and thought you know what? Having a brief flick through of history (and especially current times) women are totally without any argument allowed to collective ‘hate’ men if they want too… in fact I’d be confused if they didn’t.

All of this reminded me of something the great black comic Patrice O’neal once said about race and his animosity towards white people. Which is truly ironic because he had many extremely polarising views on women and gender. However I think it applies well.

He begins talking about Hitler and the Nazis.

‘…Hitler and his crew… after the war it was against the law… you can’t even have the moustache no more…. you can’t even rock that… you just don’t rock it… that nigger is the devil, OK… that moustache is the devil! Hitler then the devil…

So what that enables you to do is move on…. it enables you to move on… meaning I don’t have to hate every German. I don’t have to be bogged down. After the holocaust being a fucking Nazi was criminal… to this day. Like they find out you used to be a Nazi you get fucked over. You can’t even apologise, oh no I only put a couple in the ovens… no no no… you’re done, you’re fucked… which is great for the spirit of being Jewish! We went though this, we know exactly what happened, we know exactly how many people it happened too and we know exactly who did it! So it enables you to have a chapter in a book…

When I start off with white people I say look… white is the only thing we got from slavery.

We have a finish date… questionable start date… questionable amount of people that died, questionable affect on our minds… when we were free they was like bye nigger nice talking to you, OK, you’ve been living this way for 400 years, now we expect you to live wonderfully now and what we did to you was not criminal and the only thing left is your skin so you have the skin colour of the enemy… so… every white person is Hitler’s moustache… really… to my gut all white skin is that… on some level’.

I wonder if you can easily see the comparison I’m trying to draw by referencing this. Basically men are the Hitler’s moustache to women… on some level.