A New Devious Chapter

I've been seeing a ton of stuff all over about how women are avoiding lines on their faces, and winding up with any signs of aging, or marks on their faces. That these lines are frowned upon, because skin should be perfectly smooth without any signs of anything. And, maybe it's me being more masculine, but unlike most of my body, I have no problem with the lines on my face.  In fact, I'm kind of proud of all of them. My smile lines mean I've laughed, and found happiness in things despite how my life has been. The lines starting to form near my eyes don't mean I've scowled, but that I've smiled with my entire face, in a way that couldn't be mistaken. Even the lines in my forehead, are because I fought.  I fought for respect, and to be treated like a person, and these lines show me that I refuse to back down. I'm reminded of who I am by the lines that have formed on my face, and what I've stood up through, and what I've done. And ...

Lux came by the night before my birthday, because we hadn't seen each other in so long.  We didn't get to go out, but at least got a couple hours to hang out and snuggle, which we both needed. It also meant I got to give him his birthday present, which was a heavy as hell flogger with monkey fists at the end of each fall.  He'd mentioned wanting one in the past, and so I of course put way more thought than necessary into every step, and it wound up with a ton of detail. And, being me, and not doing nearly as many projects as normal because of my mental state, was beyond overly critical about it.  He loved it though.  He kept checking it out, and thanking me, and saying he was going to kill people with it. It reminded me of how I function so much better when I'm making something.  That I'm someone who feels fulfilled with creating, and having projects to look forward to. I'm a builder, and a creator, and someone who needs to be constantly learning and exp...

It's my birthday! I've spoken on here a few times before about how I usually dislike my birthday.  That things tend to explode, and I wind up just being upset and alone.  Like with other things, I wind up being forgotten. This year, I made the decision to hide my birth date on all social media.  While I'd done this as a social experiment in the past, which proved positive to my thoughts, this time it's a bit different. I dislike the idea of social obligation and going through the motions.  I enjoy things to be real, and honest.  I often don't do a lot of things that might be expected of me with certain people because it's more social obligation, and because it isn't completely heartfelt, I skip out, and it puts me in worse graces of some. But, I've gotten old enough that I don't give a shit about everyone liking me.  I'm far too strong a personality, and rarely censor myself, and that's going to put off a lot of people.  I however wil...

So, this person who was projecting the other day.  What was he projecting about you may have asked? Well, he's been consistently saying lately that he doesn't feel like he is represented anywhere, and that he has no specific place that he fits into and belongs.  That he feels like an outlier. And I think that was why he was trying to claw for something.  He wanted to cling to an idea that he could relate to, that it would give him something he held in common. But, you'd think that he would have looked at me, and realized that he was talking to the wrong person in that moment. I can't actually remember a time at which I was around incredibly similar people.  My friends are generally of a different gender.  Any nerdy circles I go into often don't share my other hobbies.  My taste in media is often odd. I'm a weirdo, and that's never been something that bothered me. I don't look for a circle to fit into.  I look for singular people to bring in...

I had an exchange with someone the other day, where simply poking fun, and a single comment spurned a spiral of butthurt that I couldn't comment on there any longer because I knew it wouldn't be heard. However, I knew a good chunk of it was mistargetted projecting, and I very nearly flipped. This person, who I will admit is of a minority, happened to say that I didn't know about under-representation or toxicity in the geek community. Let that sink in. Give it a minute. Read it over again. He told an Agender female bodied person who attends events and hobbies solo that they don't understand toxicity in geek culture. Because, when I was a young teen, there were tons of girls playing magic who didn't just do so because their boyfriend did.  That I was spoken to as though I knew the game, and that people didn't just think they could take advantage of me.  That my consistently goth and masculine preference was absolutely accepted by everyone. And that...

I've noticed the term "Queer" becoming a catch-all for most people who fall into non-hetero or non-cis folks.  And I know that for a long time it was considered a slur, and this is sort of the phase of taking it back, and giving the term a more positive presence.  It's increasingly common amongst a lot of people I know as a way of explaining orientations, and I just can't get used to it. I don't remember myself ever using it as an insult in any way, but I did say queer by its literal definition as being strange or abnormal.  It was definitely a part of my long goth phase where I wanted to sound poetic and cool.  Then I just became a goth that didn't give a fuck. Anyway, even though time has passed, it still takes the same place in my head, and now, that's very conflicting. You have people claiming to say that there is no normal in terms of sexuality and gender, and heteronormativity is something to be fought against so they can be acknowledged as...

To start this off, I need to explain a couple small things in order to get even more humor from this.   My sister and I both have broad shoulders, and small breasts.  Boobs never really appeared for us, and even through my pregnancy, I simply actually fit into the B-cup bras that I'd only had because my mother refused to accept that I was actually an A-cup.  My mother on the other hand, has ginormous boobs, and has often spoken of her disbelief of my chest size.  To mess with her further, I often point out while finding clothes for squishy, that bras my size can be found in the children's section. Anyway, on to the silliness. Apparently, while squishy was gone, my mother had bought her training bras, because I don't know why.  The evening after she got home, she was laying with me as we watched something nerdy, and ma was trying to get her away to be up her butt and get her ready for bed. Ma got Squishy into her room by asking if she'd seen the ne...