So here’s a weird little fact about me: I have this strange complex about being shoved into the military. It wasn’t really a thing before I got into college, but now every so often I just kind of have a little freakout about how I wouldn’t be ready if somebody decided to pick me up and put me in the military.
It’s a really stupid “fear” to have. There hasn’t been a draft in America since 1973. I know that there’s no reason in the world I need to be in the military,
So I had a dream that… started out really ordinary, but then after a certain point got progressively weirder and weirder.
First my brother’s parrot was crawling around the walls of its cage trying to get out in order to threaten to bite me, and kept finding doors to get out, after which I’d shoo it back in. Instead of just one like in reality, there were like three doors on the cage; it was built a lot more like the cage we used to keep parakeets in (which had two doors).
And I look at myself. I look and I don’t like what I see.
I look at my face, I look at the motions my body goes through, I look at my everything I’m doing lately, and I just think, everything I do is weak and lame. No matter what I do, no matter how I express myself or what I become interested in, it will always be weak and lame and everything I try to do to try to become “stronger” in this big, abstract sense is just more weak lameness which is only embarrassing in a new way.
I have this terrible “thing” that whenever I get to the point of deciding that a thing I like makes me feel “safe”, like the world maybe isn’t going to tear me apart and things might just be okay, I occasionally worry that it’s actually girly and now suddenly none of the very real pain of isolation and dysphoria I experience “counts” regardless of their realness because I liked something that’s “girly”
The weirdest part of it is that often when something is obviously aimed at/centred around women I don’t care, because I have plenty enough brain in my head to know anyone can like stuff like that and it’s not a threat to me.
Today tumblr said something so stupid in the “that’s problematic!” vein it made me want to devils-advocate for neo-Nazi propaganda and I think that’s A Problem
Dudes. Chill out.
Don’t you know that the best way to wreck propaganda and prevent it from causing harm is to misinterpret it and never support its true meaning?
1984 was about psychological control by the government to break people into believing that they loved and believed in abusive practices, or simply about government getting too big and having too much power, depending on how you interpret it,
With no other explanation I’d long been attributing any desire for platonic physical contact to being a furry. Because everyone knows you can cuddle the hell out of a dog or a cat, but humans are not and never for that.
Literally like, I’d design these soft mammal-like personas/characters and when I needed to feel better I’d think about them receiving unrestrained friendly affection of some sort. Ingenious, my “aethersona”, would be held close by DTP (or sometimes the great Hfenix).
We just need to do less making people read or otherwise consume specific art media and more focusing on analysis itself and how to do a good one.
We just need to leverage people’s existing desire to analyse the most seemingly un-analysable things like cartoons, video games, comics, whatever the hell you call Homestuck, narrative songs… anything.
And that sounds weird, but:
First of all, we haven’t realised and need to realise that in our modern era books—while no less relevant—are by now a fraction of the corpus of what we’d call “culture”.
When I got up this morning I was like yeah, this day has some potential
Then I was like I’m actually really feeling it on the 7h story, now is the time to add some stuff
Then I reread my “autobiography” post from two years ago and I was like I remember now, I remember all this good stuff. It seems like so long ago I hadn’t forgotten all this, but in this moment, I’m starting to feel like maybe I could be me again, and maybe the people I talk to online, maybe they aren’t entirely different people now who don’t care about me and who I should be cautious about just because I’m an entirely different person at the moment.