I spent most of the day detailing the racist and sexist incidents that occur in the cosplay community for the sake of my paper, and found it increasingly difficult not to label these harassing assholes as douchnozzle fucktrumpets.
Then I realize that 40 pages of paper have been written, I still have two whole sections to write, it’s past my deadline, and I’ve included precious little actual academic stuff to back up the points I’ve made. I am not happy with the paper and have a good solid 20 hours more of work that needs to be done, but I’m handing in what I have because it’s past due and my prof will destroy me. She’ll still destroy me when I hand in this rag. I’m finishing three paragraphs and sending it.
THEN I read the news about the verdicts in Florida. What the actual fuck. First Texas and North Carolina, now Florida. It’s illegal to be female or a PoC.
I am 1000% done with everything right now.
- Beer in the drug store. Not good beer, either.
- Home [whatever] tests. Besides the pregnancy ones: cocaine, marijuana, other drugs; colon disease; HIV
- Cheese in an aerosol can
- Money that looks the same
There’s more, most of which is political in nature, and raging at ineptitude and ignorance. These are the physical things that make me go wtf.
I’m in my hotel room at the convention, all by my lonesome. I am drinking wine, because I have it and it’d be a shame not to. Also, stupid people at the convention make me want to drink. The hope is that the booze will relax my back muscles enough for me to sleep tonight.
It’s not that it’s a bad con, per se. It was slow today, and communication breakdowns were the name of the game. Things like scheduling times being changed, and not informing the people running things, and changed drastically by three hours. But that time isn’t consistent. And saying to them “Just change it on the website, since it’s at the right time here” and logistically there were no problems, but it was five minutes of saying “just change it on the website” before the guy got the clue.
Add to that I know NO ONE here. Yeah. Well, there’s one guy, but he’s not even here today. So there’s that.
It is a strong possibility I will finish this bottle of wine. I’ve come to terms with it.
Three more invitations from the one I can best equate as a kismesis to three different burlesque-related events. Only two of these events are run by her. I’m beginning to wonder if she actually meant to send me an invite or if she just clicked Invite All. But that last… I am confused. IS she doing it on purpose?
The polar ice caps had melted a great deal at this time, and a number of coastal cities were partially if not completely submerged. My family was in California, and it was nearing time for the Prince’s annual Halloween masquerade ball. My sister wanted desperately to go. I didn’t blame her. The Prince was still unmarried, as were a lot of the newly-appointed dukes and magistrates. It was a chance at a better life. It was a chance at continuing to live. We were so hungry.
I will not stay quiet any longer.
I cannot believe the amount of immaturity I have seen in the last two days. It goes beyond immaturity into downright abusive, harassing behaviour that, if it was in person instead of over the Internet, could have charges lain. This is over leadership of a fan group. A FAN GROUP. There are death threats and comments wishing others to die over this nonsense. The grand majority of these comments are anonymous.
Let’s get one thing crystal clear: if you are cowardly enough to leave death threats anonymously, if you utter death threats AT ALL, you are not my friend. I see you a a spineless, disgusting excuse of a human being, and I feel great pity for you that you have to tell people to go die to make yourself feel better about your pathetic life.
If you would like to come out from behind that grey anonymous icon and actually have the decency to say to someone’s face what you think, then do so. Have the courage to stand behind those words, and face the consequences of them.
I’m usually Switzerland. I don’t get angry often. It’s not generally safe for anyone. If you have something to say to me, I invite you to talk to me. Generally it will be a rational discussion between adults, and things will be resolved peacefully. However, if you choose to want to resolve things in a less-than-adult manner, be prepared to have the results of that be brought back to you. This is my fair warning.
Why do you hate me that much? First the insomnia. Then the nightmares. And this is after taking half a melatonin strip.
Although I appreciate that you stopped after I used a safeword. I don’t even know how that worked.
Anybody got any remedies for insomnia and chronic nightmares? Getting desperate here.
It’s too late to take a Unisom. Probably too late to drink myself back to sleep. Thanks Libby, for showing me kittens and cute things. I’m going to look at fluffy animals until I can fall asleep again.
Looking at kittens and talking to people is reassuring me that the world is still here, and not some nightmarish caricature of itself. Cut for the squeamish, and those who really don’t want to know the depths of my crazy.
I know we haven’t been sleeping well for a very (very) LONG time. But do you have to exacerbate the situation by sending me nightmares? For reals, yo. I would love to not be running from Deathknights and the Ebon Dragon, or zombies, or sharks that grew mechanical legs, or giant spider things, and not have the firepower at hand to deal with said monstrosities.
If you insist on threading my dreams with horrific creatures, the least you can do is give me a grand daiklaive/uzi/superpowers to deal with them. It’s only fair.
Otherwise, I will have to resort to drinking us to sleep, and that’s only fun for a little while before it becomes a problem.
[with major apologies to Path and Shaburdies. I don’t even know. I’m so sorry.]
He had only wanted to love her. He was a very sweet colt, but she was not interested. She didn’t want to be mean, because it wasn’t her style. She had other things in her life she was interested in: career, for one. She had a different focus. He simply wasn’t in hers.
The young colt begged the witch to help, to make him be desirable to her. He promised her anything she wanted as long as he could be with her. The mare smiled cruelly, and thought about the colt in her past, who spurned her when he learned of her interest in dark magic. She reared back and cackled, a burst of violet energy from her horn. The colt screamed in agony as his body contorted and shrank, turned wooden and immobile.
The mare picked up the pony life-drawing figure and went into town.
Lengthy Locks had her snout pressed to the glass in wonder. It was perfect. The figure was entirely poseable, and small enough to fit on her desk at school. The filly grinned, and bought it instantly from the pawn shop owner. Finders Keepers nodded with a wink, as everyone always finds what they need in this shop.
"Miss Cheerilee? Can I put my statue on my desk?" the filly asked, already pulling her drawing paper and pencils on her desk.
The teacher smiled, seeing the excitement in her student’s eyes. “Of course you can, Lengthy Locks, but it is music time. The statue can stay there, but keep the pencils on the table.”
The teacher trotted around to the giant monstrosity of an organ, with pipes and tubes everywhere. It had a short keyboard, and lots of buttons and push pedals. “Children, this is on loan from Canterlot. Let’s make the best use of it we can!” Cheerilee nudged a few buttons and stepped on some pedals, making the organ let out a “whoot!” like a train whistle. “And a one, and a two-!”
The children started to sing some version of Yankee Doodle, while Cheerilee sang into some tubes near the front of the machine, making it a giant mouth organ.
I remember thinking “that’s not how sound theory works, those tubes that are shorter should produce higher sound; what she’s doing doesn’t logically make sense.” The other part of my brain spoke up then, louder and more sarcastically, “You’re dreaming about fan ponies. What makes sense here. Wake the fuck up, stupid.” And then I did, and realized that eating late, watching pony videos, and scrolling through Tumblr before bed was maybe not the best idea.
I’m going back to sleep. With any luck, my brain will realize its grave error and fix me up with sexy dreams about the Exalted host as compensation.