Patron Blog #7

Where have I been? Why haven’t I posted anything? Am I still writing my novel? What happened to my musical projects? Have I joined a Dionysian cult and wandered off into the hills to participate in ritualistic blood orgies?The answer to those questions and more, in this exciting patron update.

So first of all, hi. I know I’ve been absent for a while.

Truthfully I’ve been absent for a long time. Most of my blog posts begin with an apology for not having written more. But honestly, the apology is to myself. Because I want to write. I want to write badly. I just do these that keep me from being able to, or I try to put too many rules on myself and never end up writing.

For example. I’m best at writing in conversational style. A really professional looking, article style blog post, is difficult. It’s difficult to get my thoughts together enough to even begin writing. And the irony is that writing is HOW I get my thoughts together.

I’ve tried several times throughout the course of writing in my blog to create little “series.” I’ve attempted several times to number my blog posts, but then I get caught up trying to figure out what actually COUNTS as a blog post (fun fact: I recently went through my blog and counted. This is the part of the paragraph where I would tell you what the total number was, but as I just now discovered, I have no idea where I put the notepad document with the number on it. Anyhow, it was over 200)

There are a lot of series or features I want to write on my blog: I’ve wanted for years now to do a thing called “spotlight” or possibly “let’s talk about it,” where I just pick a topic (usually a thing, like a movie, an album, a video game) and just write down my thoughts about it. No pressure, no outlines, just conversational. I also want to do top ten lists about songs I love or albums I recommend. I want to do a series where I just rant about religion and about society. I have notes written down for all of these, but I never get around to posting them. I took some notes during my trip to the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC that I want to post, but again, I haven’t gotten around to it.

So why am I not writing? I want to write. I see things every day I want to write about. I have thoughts I want to chronicle. But I freak myself out by attempting to give the writing structure before I even say what I’m thinking. And then there’s the fact that some days I just write better than others. As you can see, today is not an eloquent, professional day, it’s a scatter-brained, almost illegible day.

But that’s okay. The most important thing is that I write.

So. Where have I been?

I went on a trip, back to Delaware to stay with my two friends who I lived with for a year. And joining me was a very special guy who lives in England, who came to visit me and some of our mutual friends. We had an amazing time together. Two weeks. We went to Washington DC, we saw some monuments, we went to the Holocaust museum, we went to a lot of restaurants, and I tried my best to fit in everything American I could imagine while he was here. We went to the beach, we went to an island where wild horses live, and we did a lot of kissing, snogging, and making out.

He snogged me so hard that his chin stubble rubbed my face raw. It was terribly painful. But I still think that’s a pretty cute story.

I realized, while I was there, that I haven’t been living since I left Delaware. I shut down, emotionally and mentally, and I’ve been existing, but not living. And I realized that as long as I’m near my family that’s never going to change. So I made the decision that I’m going to get out. I did my taxes, and I should have a hefty return coming to me. I intend to use that money to get my car on the road again, and get the hell out.

So where do I go? Well, that’s been a big issue. Several friends offered to help me out. One in Portland, Oregon, one in Austin, Texas, one in Massachusetts, and another possibly here in North Carolina. It’s been difficult to know who to choose or what to do. Each option provides issues: some of them are just too far away to reasonably drive without spending a crazy amount on food or lodging, some of them offer great possibilities but are in an area where I don’t want to live, and some of them are with possible roommates who’s credibility I honestly can’t vouch for, and I don’t know who I can trust.

I waited for several weeks for my tax returns to come in the mail before discovering that in fact, they’d never been submitted, so now I have to mail them in. It’s been aggravating. I feel like my life has been on hold, and the worst thing is that I’m getting used to being here again. I’m getting used to living in my mom’s house, getting used to being… not dead inside, but silent. It’s like who I really am just burrows up inside my chest and waits until it has a chance to get out.

I have to get out. It’s a matter of survival. So, when I get the money, I’ll make a decision, one way or another, and get out.

What have I been doing?

Mostly nothing. I’m serious. I’ve been laying around, not exercising, eating poorly, playing video games, masturbating and watching quiz shows online. I have been doing a lot of reading, and I’m excited to do a sort of review about a series that I’m reading. But in general, I’ve stalled.

Like I said, being here just drains the life out of me. It drains my will to do anything, my will to better myself, my will to be alive. It’s the only way I know how to survive being in the presence of such a controlling and abusive person as my mother. I have to tread lightly to try and avoid upsetting her, but that’s unavoidable, as she is perpetually angry at someone, and always more than willing to blame it on me, or my sister, or whoever else is around her. I have to get away.

I just keep telling myself that I can do this. I can get away. I can survive. She will tell me that I can’t go it on my own, but maybe I can.

Amidst all of this confusion about where to go, who to choose to help me, I came up with a surprising idea.

I could just go it on my own.

Where?

There’s a place here in North Carolina which, from my perspective, is sort of the promised land. It’s a place called Asheville. It’s up in the mountains, and it’s apparently a haven for gay people, hippies, and art nerds. There’s a college there, and supposedly there are lots of massage parlors, vegetarian supermarkets, there’s a place called The Light Center in the mountains which is like a spiritual healing retreat. There are a lot of pagans there, and it just generally seems to be my kind of place. Also it’s supposed to be utterly beautiful.

I’m going to visit there first thing when I get my car on the road again. I’ve wanted for a long time to try and go there, and I just thought… maybe I should just do it. I’ll have a bit of money to fall back on, so I should just go, find a place, find a job, and start living. Maybe I don’t need someone else to take care of me.

I still don’t know what I’ll do for sure. But I know that I have to do something, and maybe this is what I’ve been waiting for. Maybe this is my chance. My chance to be alive.

As for my novel.

It’s been a difficult journey. This book and I are constantly battling one another. I want to write it, and yet I know so much and so little about it. I have years of notes, scenes, and scrapped chapters written, and still I’ve never truly gotten started on it. My most recent attempt was a bit of a false start. I got stalled in the first chapter and couldn’t get past it, despite trying to rewrite it. I’ve gone back to the drawing board and given myself an outline, and I plan to start again.

I don’t know how many false starts this book will have. I don’t know how many rewrites there will be. But one day, it will be born, it will be alive, and people will see it. And I will be seen. And I will be able to live on, because my heart will be written down.

So what am I going to do now?

I’m going to start writing, with a modest goal of doing a little writing every day, even if it’s something small. I’m going to go back to working on my health, and going to the gym on a mostly-daily basis. I’m going to try and help myself to get out of this situation, and I’m going to keep trying when I fail.

I plan to start writing blogs again soon. Updates about my life, about my interests, about my thoughts. Rants and ideas and recommendations, pieces of me, laid out for you to read. It’s what I want to do.

I’ll be back soon. Thank you for sticking around. There is more to come.

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#121: For Zack

meandzack

Hi Zack

It’s about 9:30 at night, I’m sitting in the office on my new laptop. Jake is on the floor next to the chair. I’ve had kind of a weird day. I went out to find something to eat this afternoon and I ate a frosty from Wendy’s, and due to being diabetic I learned the hard way just how bad of an idea that was. I’m probably lucky that I’ve just had a headache, and the constant feeling that my ears are popping.

What I’ve done all day to occupy myself is very similar to what I did when I first got here, almost one year ago. I’m going through my music collection, and adding to it from your CD collection. When I first moved here I was stunned at how many CDs you had, because I was convinced I was the only person who still had a collection of CDs. I imported way more of your music than I ever actually got around to listening to, though I have discovered quite a lot of new artists since meeting you.

The day we met has been on my mind today. I guess I didn’t notice until just now, but it’s probably related to a dream I had last night. Last night I dreamt that I was walking into the train station again, and seeing you waiting for me, holding a book (I can’t remember the name but it was a mystery crime novel you got from the library). I don’t remember much of the dream, just the vague notion that I was there again, and I KNEW that I was there for the second time, and I thought to myself, “I have to make this work this time. I have to do this again, and make sure to keep my job, so that I don’t have to go back to my mom’s house.”

Hold on, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, just stay with me here. I’ve been thinking about how I felt that day, when I met you in that train station. The first thing that struck me was how cute you were, and I instantly had a crush on you. In fact I was really infatuated with you for the first couple of months that I was here. On that first day, we didn’t talk very much. We didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to start the conversation and I was so overwhelmed that this was ACTUALLY happening, that I didn’t know what to think. I remember us walking to the parking garage and loading my bags into the car, and I remember the drive on the highway. We were listening to one of the rock stations on Satellite radio. It was the first time I’d heard Stitched Up Heart. I know we eventually started talking, I just don’t remember much of what it was about. I remember poking you. Partially it was to get a conversation started and partially it was just because I wanted to touch you.

I remember when we pulled into the garage for the first time. I remember that you told me to wait while you brought the dogs out to meet me. While you were inside the house I noticed a snow shovel on the wall. I kind of smiled, because I realized that we actually lived in a place where real snowfall was something to be prepared for, because I’ve lived in the south my whole life and it’s never been much of an issue. It also struck me that I was suddenly in “the north,” and even though it’s debatable whether or not Delaware is considered to be a northern state, I was so relieved to have some distance between myself and the south. The place I grew up, where people had thick accents and chewed tobacco and churches littered every corner, and you got funny looks for doing anything even slightly atypical. A place where I had to keep my head down and avoid eye contact.

I remember when the dogs rushed out into the garage and jumped into the trunk of Robert’s car, sitting on my luggage. I remember when I first walked into the house I was so impressed with how spacious the house was. I don’t remember much else about that first day, except for Robert coming home and how I didn’t really know him as well as you, so I wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed a little more serious than you, and I think I might have been a little afraid of him. I found him intimidating for some reason, but it was probably just because he’s a little more reserved.

I don’t remember much else about the first day here. But I have all sorts of memories about the first few months. I remember that something happened which I didn’t expect. I kept having these emotional breakdowns, and I didn’t know why. I would go off at any little thing and just start crying, I took any excuse to dramatically storm out of the room and run into my room crying. Every time, you followed me. You held me. You promised me it was alright now. That I never had to go back. I told you how afraid I was that you guys would get tired of me and send me back. You promised me that wouldn’t happen.

Stop it, don’t start feeling guilty again. I’m really not trying to guilt trip you here. I’m just telling you what I remember.

I remember getting a job at Barnes and Noble and being so excited, and I remember the horror as my excitement turned to anxiety and I started having panic attacks at work, and before work. I had trouble going to sleep, sometimes trouble eating. On Thanksgiving I couldn’t concentrate all day, and I ended up walking outside and sitting on the porch, eventually just laying down on my back and trying to breathe. I realized that working at Barnes and Noble was too stressful for me, that I needed to find something else, that I needed some kind of office job. I remember the immense relief when they fired me a few days later. I really was upset about it, I was being genuine when I told you I was upset, and it was because I didn’t want to disappoint you. But I was very relieved that it was over, and that I could crawl back into bed where it was safe, that I didn’t have to go back there, to a place where I felt like I was in chains.

I remember the excitement of getting hired at Avalanche, and how proud you both were of me. One of my favorite memories is when we were setting up the Christmas tree in the living room, and we baked Christmas cookies while we were watching the Simpsons. I often go back to that memory when I need to feel stable and safe, and have hope for the future. I remind myself that there can be more times like that night, and I can feel as safe as I did then. I remember getting used to the routine of driving to and from work every day, and truthfully I never got used to working 45 hours a week. It was so MUCH, even if I wasn’t doing very much work. I had never had that kind of responsibility before, even if it was an easy responsibility.

I think if I tried to describe all of my memories from all the trips we took to meet the other people from the Patreon group, I’d be rambling on for pages and pages about it. But my favorite thing was always the beginning. I love road trips. I love them even more with friends. I’ve had so few opportunities to go on road trips with friends. I love stopping at the gas station at the beginning, getting supplies, choosing CDs to listen to on the trip, I even love falling asleep while you’re driving. I love listening to you sing while your favorite music plays, even if some of the heavier metal is kind of indiscernible to me.

I felt safe. I have always been safe with you.

It got harder when I quit Avalanche. Looking back, it’s such a big regret of mine. Because at the time I genuinely thought that I could make it without that job. I wish I had understood then how important it was for me to have that job, for me to have something full-time, and I wish I knew then that office stress was MUCH easier to manage than retail stress. I wish they had hired me back when I applied again, and when I called and called. I’ve probably called them at least once every month or so. No matter how many times I call the managers, none of them pick up their phones. I even left one of them a handwritten note at the front desk once, but never got a call back. I tried texting my old manager but he stopped responding. There was just no hope of getting the job back. And yeah, it wasn’t the best office job. I wish I would have immediately set my sights on finding another office job, or going to a temp agency or something.

I wish a lot of things. But it did feel good to leave Avalanche. And it did feel good to start working at Staples. Admittedly the feeling didn’t last very long. I remember the stress building and building, becoming worse with each failed attempt at a job. I tried working at two stores for Staples and I still didn’t have enough money, I tried working full time at the pawn shop and I was absolutely miserable. I moved back to my mom’s house and I missed my family so much, my real family, you and Robert and the dogs, and the sloths. You welcomed me back.

Letting me come back means more to me than you can realize. Even if it only lasted a couple of months, the fact that you welcomed me back home when I asked, that’s something important. It shows me, looking back on it, that you weren’t afraid to take another chance on me. That you were willing to put yourself out on a limb for me.

This recent job hunt didn’t work out much either. I got the job at Target and hated it, but I tried not to complain to vocally, because I didn’t want to upset you guys. I know how tight money was getting, I know that I was becoming a burden on you. I know that in one year I’ve paid rent maybe three or four times.

I just want you to know that I never intentionally used you or Robert. I never TRIED to live off of you. I will admit that there were many times when I knew the two of you would be forgiving, and that you probably wouldn’t make me leave if I fucked up, so I didn’t always make the best choices because I knew you could be counted on to pick up the slack. That was abusing your kindness and your trust, and I’m sorry. I truly am. I guess I didn’t realize how fucked it up was that I did that until just now. But please understand that I wasn’t trying to live off of you, to be a leech. I just knew that if I failed or gave up, there was a good chance you guys would take care of me in the interim of a few weeks while I searched for something new. I fell into a pattern, and it was an unhealthy one. I started using you in the same way I’ve used other people: my family, and at least four ex-boyfriends that I can think of immediately. I have always trusted other people to take care of me when I can’t take care of myself.

I told you earlier today that I’ve come to the realization that I seem to need to be parented. It happens in relationships and in friendships. I need for someone else to be in control, and to have a steady grip on things, someone I can rely on. I think this is because of how unreliable my own parents have been. One of my biggest fears when I was a teenager being shuffled from house to house was that I didn’t know where I would lay my head down the next night, and I felt that the reason was because I had a mother who didn’t, or couldn’t, love me.

And that’s really the thing. You saved me. Robert saved me too, but it was you who took the first step, you who reached out to me, you who listened, and you who suggested that I might be able to stay in your guest bedroom. You asked Robert. You paid for SO much. You bought me food, and you bought me a car, you got me set up, you put me on my feet, and you hugged me and held me whenever I cried and told you I was afraid.

You promised I would never have to go back.

And I’m not going back.

That’s the thing. Right now, because of the situation, I’ll need to move in with my mom for a short while. I’m hoping it will be only a few months before I figure something else out. But I’m still not going back.

I’m never going back again, to the place I was when you met me. I’m never going back to being that terrified boy, who had no one in the world he could trust. I’m never going  back to that place of desperation and fear.

Because I have a home now. Because I have love now.

Because I have a FAMILY now.

You made good on your promise, Zack. I never have to go back to where I was when we met. I never have to go back to being afraid that there’s no one in the world who cares about my well being. I never have to worry that I can’t have a loving family who cares about my thoughts, my feelings, my voice, and who encourages my talent and my future.

No matter where I go, you are a part of me now. No one can take that away from me. Not my mother. Not my father. No distance can stop the way I feel about you and Robert, and no distance can stop this house and this atmosphere from being my home.

I wish I didn’t have to go to my mom’s house, and I know you do too. I’m afraid. I’m not so much afraid of what she’ll do (I have plenty of experience deflecting her vitriol), the thing I’m most afraid of is that I might, unforgivably, for even a moment, forget you, or forget how I feel being here, forget my home, forget the love I have here. I fear that I might give in to despair for just a moment and forget how many people love me, and how many people encourage me and want the best for me. And the truth is, a large part of that is because of you. The sloths have opened their hearts to me because they’re wonderful people, but if not for your bold act of kindness, with no expectation of reward or returned favor, I wouldn’t have gotten to meet them, at least not when I did. I wouldn’t have had this year with you.

It’s funny, so much terrible stuff has happened in the world in the past year. I always pause when I see people saying things like “I just want 2016 to be over,” and believe me I identify with them and I’ve said it myself. But truthfully, despite all the trials I’ve faced over the past year, I’m glad that it was here, with you, and with Robert. I’m glad that I had you to come home to. I’m glad that I had you to show my music, my writing, and my ideas to. I’m glad that you listened to me ramble about my interests, and that you shared your interests with me. I’m glad that you cared about me, that you guarded me ferociously when you found out about my blood test results and came to the doctor’s office with me to help me make sure I understood my diagnosis and what to do next. I’m glad that you took me with you to so many place, to concerts, to gatherings, to meet your family.

I went through a period earlier this year when I felt suicidal. I think a big part of that had to with how much suicidal stuff I was surrounding myself with: I was getting really involved in Emilie Autumn’s art, which has a lot of examination of suicide, the mythology and morality questions surrounding it, and I think I wanted to identify with her, as someone who was suicidal, because it helped me to feel that I had an identity to be proud of, even if that identity was a mental illness. I know you’ve worried about me hurting myself. I can’t say that I’ve honestly not considered hurting myself, but I know that I’ve not really come close to TRYING anything. Just basically sunk into the depression and daydreamed about it. I guess I want you to know that I’m sorry if I scared you with my talk of being suicidal, and also that I don’t want you to be scared that I’ll try to hurt myself if I go to my mom’s house.

I promise, if I hit rock bottom, if I lose all hope, I’ll call you. And if you don’t answer I’ll wait until you do. And if absolutely nothing works, I’ll sell my video games and drive here with the gas money before I try and hurt myself. But just so you know, I really don’t think I’m going to hurt myself.

I wish it weren’t my mom’s house. And it is upsetting in many ways. But the thing that really makes me sad, is losing this. I know that I’m not REALLY losing it, I’m not losing the fact that I have a home and a family, I’m not losing the love I feel for you and Robert, or the trust I have in the two of you, or the way either of you feel about me. But it will be a change. It’s hard to imagine I won’t allow some feeling of dread that I’ve turned back the clock sink into me when I’m in South Carolina. But I know that I can overcome those feelings because I have you here, and I have Robert, and I have the sloths.

I’ll miss Jake a lot. I’ll miss having him in bed with me every night. I tried to sleep with Butterscotch in my bed before but her fur is really thick so petting her makes my hands feel icky. It’s not her fault. Just, Jake is easier to sleep with. I like to cuddle with him. I feel safe and comforted having Jake near me, and I think he feels the same. I’ve never really bonded with a dog the way I have with Jake. I’ll miss Roxxi too, and Apollo. Apollo is finally starting to warm up to me as much as he does to you. Roxxi’s started following me around a lot more in the last few months too. I hope they’ll be okay. I hope they won’t be too upset that I’m not here. It breaks my heart to imagine Jake laying on my bed in the guest bedroom, wondering when I’ll come home.

I hope that I come back here some day. I know that might sound kind of unexpected, but I hope it happens. I hope I’m able to get some kind of job, like being a writer or something that I can do online, where I’m able to do it from anywhere, and I can come back. I’m not asking for that to be on the table, I know you would need time to think about that, and besides I know you need the relief of getting back to saving money and time to get adjusted to me not being here. But I hope it will happen. It’s a wish, deep in my heart, a little secret, that one day I can come home, when I’m ready, and when I’m able. I hope sooner than later.

I’m scared. I’m excited about the drive. Like I said, I love car trips. I’ve been burning CDs all day. I’ve been getting ready. I’ve been borrowing your music. And I’ve been getting ready this past year, and borrowing from you. I asked you, and you helped me.

You can’t possibly ever understand what you’ve given me, Zack.

I may not have actually killed myself if I hadn’t come here. But I would have kept dying. I was dying then. And when you rescued me, I was pulled out of an ocean, and when you’re saved from drowning, the first thing you do is cough and pant and gasp for air, and it hurts. But it’s a good thing. It’s how you come back to breathing, and to being alive.

Thank you for making me alive.

There’s a song called Being Alive, it’s a Stephen Sondheim song from the musical Company. Whenever Nathan and I broke up, I spent a lot of time listening to songs from musicals, especially Into the Woods. But Bernadette Peters sang the song on one of her albums, and it’s a beautiful song. And it has these lyrics that I used to sing along to, and I would sing them out into the universe, hoping someone would hear them and answer me:

“Somebody hold me too close, somebody hurt me too deep
Somebody sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep
And make me aware of being alive
Somebody need me too much, somebody know me too well
Somebody pull me up short, and put me through hell,
And give me support for being alive
Make me alive, make me alive
Make me confused, mock me with praise
Let me be used, vary my days
But alone is alone, not alive
Somebody crowd me with love, somebody force me to care
Somebody make me come through, I’ll always be there, as frightened as you
To help us survive
Being alive”

Thank you for being the one who answered the call I sent out into the world. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for giving me the love I had lost when Nathan left, and for being the first person in my entire life to give me real, functional love, built on trust, with no anger and baggage and fear.

Thank you for being my friend when I needed, my lover when I needed, my brother when I needed, and my parent when I needed. Thank you for being everything for me. Thank you.

Thank you for making me alive.

It hurts to be alive. But that’s part of what makes it special.

I’m going to miss being here, and I’m going to miss you so much every day. I know I’ll see you again, and I know I’ll talk to you and be in touch with you. But the actual “touch” part, I’ll miss that. I’ll miss hugging you before I go to bed every night. I’ll even miss when you get mad at me. I’ll miss everything about this place, and you, and the dogs, and Robert, and staying up late playing video games, and going to the store in the middle of the night and coming back in to be greeted by Jake slapping his tail against the wall, and listening to podcasts all night, and driving to Wawa, and ordering pizza, and watching the Simpsons, and baking cookies at Christmas, and laughing about Family Guy jokes, and ranting about religion and atheism, and everything, everything, everything.

I will carry you with me into the next chapter. I will be frightened. But I will be safe, deep inside, knowing that I have a home. And you are my home, Zack. Wherever you and Robert are, that’s where I’m safe.

And all I ever wanted was to be safe.

You gave me everything I ever wanted.

I love you.

Some Random Facts About Me

I am gay. I am attracted to both cisgender and transgender males. As far as I know there isn’t a specific classification for this, because it isn’t pansexual since I’m not attracted to trans females. I think I shall call it Ultimate Level Gay

I identify as non-binary gender with a leaning towards male.

I am a Hufflepuff

I play piano

I’m a Baritone, though I was a Bass 2 in high school chorus

I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder

As a child I had Deinophobia (fear of dinosaurs), Mysophobia (fear of contamination by dirt or germs), and I was also afraid of words that began the letter “T”

I was raised by Christians but it never took, I went through an incredibly religious Christian phase, then became Pagan, and finally became an “IDGAF Atheist”

I am left handed

The first time I tried to write a novel I was twelve, the villain was a leviathan who could transform into a human and controlled water, and the book was called Horizon Zero. For exactly no reason whatsoever. I was twelve.

As a child my favorite movie was Little Mermaid. I used to put my legs into a pillowcase to be my fin, and sit at the coffee table and pretend I was Ariel singing on the rock in the sea. I even pushed my chest out the way she does.

My all time favorite album is Boys For Pele by Tori Amos

I put so much cream in my coffee that it usually turns cold

My guilty pleasure artist is Nicki Minaj. As an artist I find her reprehensible, but I know every word to Stupid Hoe and Roman’s Revenge.

I can name every Madonna album in chronological order, including the compilations

My favorite classical musician is Mozart, and my two favorite pieces are Lacrimosa and Rondo alla Turca

I hate plain chocolate ice cream

The first five albums I ever received, in order, were: Oops! I Did It Again (Britney Spears), Beware of Dog (Lil Bow Wow), Unleash the Dragon (Sisqo), In The Zone (Britney Spears), and The Very Best of Cher

The first anime I ever watched from beginning to end was Pretear

I want to be a writer, and an English major, even though I failed Creative Writing and English 12 in high school. In fairness, I failed those classes because I was lazy and refused to finish my work, not because I’m bad at those subjects.

Aside from the normal everyday colors you learn in grade school, I learned all of my intermediate colors (like Aquamarine, Teal, Periwinkle, etc.) from Microsoft Works Word Processor

I once tried to write a fanfiction novel based on Kingdom Hearts called Kingdom Spades (I didn’t come up with the name, my best friend at the time insisted upon it). Interestingly, I invented Drive Mode in my story before I saw it in Kingdom Hearts II.

I’m hypersexual. A therapist told me this. That’s how I know it’s true. Also, ask my ex-boyfriends, they will confirm.

My first crush was Nick Carter, followed by Lance Bass, Tom Felton, and Liam Aiken. Clearly I had a thing for twinks when I was a kid.

In a related story, I dyed my hair blonde when I was eleven because of my crush on Draco Malfoy

I once lived with a Presbyterian Minister and his family for two months. I convinced his son (who was the same age as me, by the way) to play “you show me yours I’ll show you mine.” On several different occasions.

My favorite animals are pigs, rats and cows

The first song I ever learned completely to play on piano, through sheet music and without any help, was Hello by Evanescence

My first date was the movie Juno. The movie sucked, but I did get to hold the guy’s hand and make out with him in his car afterward.

The first guy I ever had sex with was someone I had met an hour before.

When I was eighteen, I went through a severe depression and identity crisis in which I destroyed everything I’d ever written, including close to two-hundred poems, three novels I was writing, and all journal/blog entries I’d ever written.

The first boy I ever kissed was cheating on his boyfriend with me. I knew this going in but I didn’t care. For the record, it was an amazing kiss, and my heart was broken for months when he chose his boyfriend over me.

The song that makes me happiest is Watchin’ by Freemasons

(EDIT 2/18/16: I’m going to overrule myself here and say that the song that makes me happiest is Walking on Broken Glass by Annie Lennox)

The song that makes me saddest is The Bed Song by Amanda Palmer

(EDIT 2/18/16: Overruling myself again, there are a LOT of songs I could choose but I think Iris by Goo Goo Dolls is the song that makes me saddest)

If I ever get a tattoo, I want it to be lyrics. Most likely the chorus of Iris by Goo Goo Dolls

When I was fifteen I had an online pseudonym of Roku Matsamura

I have a fear of heights with one exception. From the time I was twelve until fifteen I used to play on an old rickety abandoned railroad bridge above a river, complete with loose boards, huge holes in the bridge, and I even did this during winter when the whole thing was slick with ice. I was not afraid.

I once fell in love with a fictional character from a television show. And I mean that I really and genuinely believed we were together.

I had two imaginary friends throughout my teenage years. Their names were Lance and Max. They originated as my “good” and “evil” sides, but it was more like “naughty” and “nice” sides. Lance was the naughty, foul-mouthed one, he was tall with blonde spiky hair, and Max had shoulder-length straight brown hair. Over time, Lance became the only one to usually speak, while Max was constantly somber and emotional. Eventually, I went through a bad breakup and told them to go away. I didn’t see them much after that, but the last time I spoke to them they were in love with one another and were together as a couple.

When I was fourteen, my best friend was a stuffed dog. I talked to it, took it from room to room with me, and slept with it.

I have acid reflux and can burp on command.

I become a complete needy emotional baby when I’m sick. It’s best if I’m in a relationship during these times, and woe betide the poor boy who has to take care of me.

I’m incredibly clingy with friends and especially with boyfriends.

I have a fantasy of a boy whispering sweet nothings into my ear in German.

The first gay-themed movie I ever saw was a German film called Sommersturm

When I see dead animals in the road, I think about coming back with a shovel and burying them in the woods.

The earliest video game I can remember playing in Super Mario Bros, followed by Mega Man 2.

My favorite series of novels as a kid was A Series of Unfortunate Events

Part of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was that I used to go through phases of taping sitcoms and watching the episodes over and over and over again. I taped and watched every single episode of Seinfeld ever made, and watched them so many times I knew them word for word. Strangely, I never actually found the show funny.

One of my all-time favorite video games is Breath of Fire III. I’ve played it many times but never actually beaten it. Maybe I don’t want it to end.

My favorite musical is Into the Woods (the original stage version, not the Disney film)

As a kid my favorite television show was Dragonball Z, and I used to read a magazine called Beckett Dragonball Collector

In my opinion, the greatest video game system ever made was the Sega Dreamcast

My favorite fictional witches are, in ascending order of awesomeness: Luna Lovegood, Myrtle Snow, Elphaba Thropp, and The Witch (portrayed by Bernadette Peters in Into the Woods)

 

I attribute my creativity, love of fantasy and adventure, and love of music, to Final Fantasy VII.

On a similar note, the next few facts are going to be all Final Fantasy related. I first learned to play piano so that I could play songs from Final Fantasy VII.

I have never played through Final Fantasy VIII without using Zell Dincht in my party, primarily because I’ve pretty much always had a crush on him.

I have spent something like two-hundred to three-hundred hours playing Final Fantasy XIII, and have never once voluntarily included Snow in my party.

Fran from Final Fantasy XII is one of my all-time favorite Final Fantasy characters, and one of the first songs I ever composed on piano was inspired by Fran’s feelings about leaving the forest.

I’m obsessed with the concept of Mages, particularly their color sorting, with differently coloured mages having access to different spells (black mages cast offensive spells, white mages can heal, green mages can affect stats and both positive and negative statuses, etc.) This system was a big part of what inspired the novel I’m currently writing.

My two favorite fictional heroes are Lightning Farron from Final Fantasy XIII and Ellen Ripley from Alien

I wish people had tails, similar to Zidane from Final Fantasy IX and Goku from Dragonball Z. I think they would be useful, fun, and could be an interesting erogenous zone.

My favorite Final Fantasy villain is Kuja.

My favorite Powerpuff Girl is Bubbles

My favorite female name is Bronwen

My favorite male name is Oliver. Or Wolfgang. I’m not sure I have a difficult time making decisions.

I am generally very indecisive. I’ve spent days not beginning video games because I couldn’t decide what to name my characters.

#84: I’m Getting A Sweet Necklace!

It's this one. The one Lightning's wearing.

It’s this one. The one Lightning’s wearing.

Remember when my blog used to have pictures and I would talk about my life and what I was doing and stuff? Yeah, I haven’t done that in a long while, mainly for a couple of reasons: first, a LOT has changed since the last time I actually talked about my life here in my blog, and second I haven’t had a computer I could sit down at and write on very frequently. Over the last year I attempted to start another blog where I reviewed books and video games, but I ultimately gave up on doing that and just moved them here. I’ll still do a review of something if I feel like it, but it just doesn’t feel right to have my writing separated into different places.

There’s a lot to talk about, and when I really have a chance to sit down and talk about it I will. The last time I remember writing about my life, I was still getting over my ex-boyfriend, I had just moved to Georgia, and I was working at Five Guys and really hoping for a job at Pottery Barn. Since then, so many things have happened: I met a new guy who I’ve been with for a year and a half or so, I moved back to South Carolina, I’ve gone through maybe five jobs, I actually got a Playstation 2 again and have amassed almost all of the Final Fantasy games, as well as playing the new ones (as evidenced by my reference to Lightning at the beginning). My immense iTunes library has continued to grow, I got a Kindle Fire on my birthday, I am STILL reorganizing Florence + the Machine’s B-Sides, and I actually did an admirable job at trying to reach a lofty reading goal for this year. Before the year is out I hope to a summary review of the books I’ve read this year and do another summary review of the video games I’ve played.

I have gained quite a bit of weight. I’ve gained weight before and yes, it’s going to of course make me feel self-conscious, but it’s actually a really unhealthy amount of weight, and I’m starting to have trouble doing simple things like standing up from a chair without breathing really hard. It’s worrysome, and my body is COVERED in stretch marks. It ain’t pretty. But, I really genuinely think I’m about to join a gym, and however it happens, I’m really going to lose the weight. And by “the weight” I don’t mean the weight I’ve recently gained, I mean the weight I’ve been carrying around since I was 10 years old and stopped being a skinny kid and started being a chubby/fat kid. I’m not hear to judge how much anyone else weighs, and for the record I think boys who are a bit chubby are absolutely sexy, but for me personally, this is about becoming healthy and achieving a goal that I’ve had for about 13 years now. I mean, I’m in a relationship, but if I ever DID want to pursue being in porn (which is always a fun sidequest I’ve had in mind just if I feel like it), then I’d need to have the body to do it right?

So, there will be more to come soon! This blog is getting stale and boring, and that ain’t cool, homie! Okay, I admit my grammar has been less than wonderful in this posting, and that, sirs and madams, is unexcusable. Also I’m jacked up on Mountain Dew. And now, here’s the necklace that I’m anxiously anticipating arriving in the mail (for the record, it’s a Christmas present from the boyfriend, and also for the record if you want one, it’s fairly inexpensive and I’m like… 80 percent sure it’s official Square Enix merchandise).

I can't wait! I'm gonna be a l'Cie! "I'm no one's slave!"

I can’t wait! I’m gonna be a l’Cie! “I’m no one’s slave!”