A Millennial got annoyed! You won't believe what happened next!

     I've written about this subject before, but it continues to come up! Like, honestly people, I've talked about how ridiculous it all is already. It should be gone! I, as a lazy and entitled millennial, have spoken up! Why didn't all you olds listen to me? All this threw me into such a fuss I almost put soy milk into my latte this morning instead of almond milk. IKR?
      As a spokesperson for my generation, though tbh we are all spokepeople of our generation, I gotta say (from the comfort of my vintage armchair!), you guys kinda left the world in a bad place. It was like you were in an abusive relationship with the Earth, then broke up with it. But didn't leave! And now, while we're trying to clean up the place and offer some love and support, you're literally just shitting on the floor. Now, I know, you worked hard for the home you have (that cost a fraction of what housing does these days, even after inflation), and you feel like you've earned the right to dictate how things should get done. You've got all those years of experience on how to be sexist, racist, and elitist, and you feel like we should be emulating the example your putting forth instead of downloading emulators to play Mario. And to be 100% for real with you, we are learning from your example! You're a great teacher! We are learning, from your wonderful and timely examples, how not to live. We see the lessons you're putting forth and we are understanding. Thank you so much for showing us what not to do! I'm sure it is taking a lot out of you everyday pretending to be an asshole. And we sincerely and humbly thank you for this great sacrifice!
        We are taking these great lessons and putting them into action! We see you "complaining" about those "different folks", and we understand that what you really want is for us to help people! Because we're all people! There are no "different folks", just folks who like different things! Your false bigotry has really shown us how terrible it is! Your lessons have really shown us terrible the world could be if people actually thought the way you pretend to!
         It is in that vein, that I must apologize for those in my generation who seemingly think your teachings show how to act, instead of the opposite. I know, I'm sure you thought it was so obvious! How could a decent human being ever actually act the way you pretend to! And yet, for some your lessons have failed. They have become the racist bigots you have so valiantly fought against!
       Your generation has so wonderfully shown us just how bad fossil fuels are to the environment, you've shown us to be careful with our water supply, you've shown us that war is bad, you've shown us countless times how pathetic and harmful racism is, and you've shown us that being true to ourselves is something we should be ashamed of (unless we're white, male, and straight! That's some shit to be proud of!). Thanks to your wonderful lessons I lied to myself for 25 years. Thanks to your lessons I learned to sit quietly by as bad things happened (it's the will of god after all (sorry, my God gave us freewill hoping that we wouldn't fuck up (oops)), so why bother?) because "one person can't make a difference". In a way that was right, one person can't make a difference to the whole world by themselves, but one person can encourage others to stand up. One person can start a movement that changes the world. You see us as mindless drones attached to our "gadgets", who are oblivious to the things around us. You are so wrong. We see the world. We see how messed up it is. We are trying to make things better. Whether it's cheaper education, or medication that is more freely available, or it's standing up against injustice through social media and writing. We are fighting this war that you forgot about. You grew complacent with the corruption in the system until the system became corruption. You let the world fall to pieces. We're just trying to pick up those pieces. Instead of helping though, you call us entitled when we say that education has gotten too expensive. You call us lazy when you hear about people living off welfare, but you don't see that there are no jobs. You call us freaks when we support gender issues, but you don't understand the problems.
       God forbid that you try and understand though. God forbid that you try and change to be a better person. God forbid you admit that maybe you guys messed up a little. I know, it's far easier to just blame the next generation. "Kids these days, they just don't understand how hard it was." You know what? You don't understand how hard it is now.
        As the lazy entitled millennial you are probably imagining me to be, I just want to say, as I quickly look up from my cell phone (lol social media, right?), in a mumbling voice: "thanks, or whatever."
































I wanted to end this with either a Douglas Adams quote, or by saying "fuck off", but I decided against both. So long. Thanks for killing the fish. 

Katya's Curse excerpt

     Time for an excerpt. Yup, feels like that time of week. So, here is an excerpt from the first chapter of a fantasy novel I've been working on. Bonus points to whoever asks me if the main character and I share views on religion! 

The skies glowed pink as the golden orb of light slipped down to rest beneath the cold waters of the sea. Aberforth stood silently on the coast watching the latest cargo ships arrive to port. The cool wind ruffled his hair and billowed out his once red cloak. He slowly grasped and released the golden hilt of his sword, a nervous twitch he had picked up years ago. Today was the day that his life should be returning. For twenty years he had been without it.   

Twenty years ago, a call came from the uncivilized barbarians for teachers, and his love, his Katya, had heeded the call. Five years later, the call for soldiers to go and defend those lands came. Aberforth took up his long-forgotten sword, and went in hopes of finding Katya and persuading her to come home. He never found her; he only knew that she was still alive. Two months ago, the teachers were called back to the homeland. Today was the day of their return. 

Aberforth turned his gaze towards the town and began his walk there. He reached the docks rather quickly and was able to acquire a position close to the embarkation ramp. And he began to wait. 

And he waited. 

Women filtered past him for what seemed like hours, and still he waited. 

The ships were empty, but still he waited.  

The sun was awakening when a woman came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at her with blank eyes. “Where is she?” his voice was heart-wrenchingly devoid of emotion. 

“I am sorry Aber, she taken by Manichee rebels a week before we left.” The woman paused as she gathered her thoughts, “I know she loved you. She always spoke of you, and at night she would mutter your name.” 

Aberforth collapsed to his knees, tears running down his face, his body convulsing. The woman knelt beside him and cradled his head against her chest. 

It took Aberforth all the strength he possessed to gather the will to speak. “Where are they keeping her?” 

“I don’t know why they are keeping her; perhaps they just want to learn.” 

“I SAID WHERE!” Aberforth screamed through his tears. 

The woman bowed her head in sorrow, “You won’t like this. They are holding her in their main fort. Deep in the Forest of Sight.” 

Aberforth cringed. The Forest of Sight was ironically named. The trees were the tallest in the world and their branches blocked out the sun, moon, and stars. On the bright side, the branches also kept out the rain and snow. 

A realization came upon Aberforth, and it frightened him. “How do you know all this?” 

The woman took her arm from Aberforth’s shoulders, stood up, and took several steps back. 

“I asked you how you knew.” His voice was cold now. Cold enough to kill. 

“I...” the woman swallowed as Aberforth stood up with his back towards her. The billowing cloak hiding his movements. “They sent me.” 

“Why?” his back was still towards her. 

“I am one of them. They wanted to show the Oreilles government that they could still hurt them. I led them to your wife. They sent me to tell you all of this, and to deliver a message to the High Preceptor of the Council of Oreilles. An att—” the last thing she ever saw was the blur of Aberforth’s feared sword as her head was separated from her body in what looked to be a fiery pyrotechnics show. 

Aberforth bent down and cleaned the blood off his blade with her clothing, stood, and walked away. 

That afternoon he sent out a calling to the surviving men of his old squad. He asked them to meet him at The Golden Oar later in the night.  

The Golden Oar had nothing golden about it, except for the fact that none of the patrons would lead the authorities to it. Everyone there had committed some form of crime during their life. 

Aberforth sat at a grungy table in a dark corner, watching the door, and nursing a pint of ale. He had never considered himself to be an overly religious person, even though he was a city saint. As he sat there in the dark, staring into his tankard, he felt alone for the first time in his life. The people of Oreilles worshiped valorous acts instead of a pantheon, but they still had one god that they could call to in times of desperation. Aberforth had never prayed in his life, he always looked to himself or his friends for the answers sought. But as he sat there, completely alone, he began to pray. 

“Vandicus, I come to you now, in the moment of my truest despair. My Katya, my life, has been taken from me. All my life I lived well, striving to expound of the virtues of my city, even becoming sainted. But now, I am lost. I am alone. My virtues give me no comfort, nor do the virtuous acts of those before me. Vandicus, I plead you, give me release. Give me the strength to do what is needed. Your eyes see all, and to you all truth is known. Give unto me the truth of this Vandicus!” Aberforth sat and waited for long moments, yearning for the answers to appear. Nothing came to him. No great epiphany lighted in his head. Only the sounds of the tavern were heard to him.  

“Vandicus!” Aberforth shouted out, before reigning his voice back in, “Vandicus, please. PLEASE!” He threw his mug against the wall, spraying ale everywhere. “I have lived my life to your teachings! I have followed your laws, fought in your wars! I have given my years to you! My friends, my family! My family has gone to you! And now this! Now you take this from me! I have been without her for decades! DECADES! Longing for her touch, her caress, or even the touch of her eyes upon my skin! And now! Now you take her away from me! You! You the great deceiver! The great liar! Vandicus! You promised your followers life! You promised them contentment! Piss on it! Piss on it all! I have gotten none of that! All I have ever had, YOU have taken from me! FUCK YOU VANDICUS! And fuck your fucking laws! I am done with it. I swear to you now, in front of your precious followers, great hypocrites all, that I will break whatever law I must to get her back. I will go into hell itself! I will raze heaven to the ground to hold her again! You have brought a righteous reckoning upon yourself! Before this ends, I will see you burn, oh great god Vandicus!”

Thoughts while writing

       Yesterday I wrote perhaps the most difficult piece I have ever written. Not in a technical sense, in that way it was pretty average, but in an emotional sense. While the reactions that I have personally experienced have been positive, they represent a small percentage of the people who actually read it. Maybe those that were going to react negatively took my comment about not caring to heart and decided to not spew their hate at me? I'm not here to talk about that. While writing the article I was full of passion and intensity. Until I got to the end where I started writing about myself. I started getting nervous. I was shaking. My fingers got stiff and it was hard to type. I began to second guess my decision and seriously considered ending the article without coming out. But I couldn't do that. I had to be honest and speak out.
       So I made myself write. I forced those fear-stiffened fingers to type, and the words began to pour out. I did it. I had finally put those words and thoughts into being. Then the doubt came back. The hesitation struck again and I couldn't hit "publish". Instead, I sat there. Staring at the words I had just written, letting them burn into my retinas. The shaking came back full force, and I sat. Hand trembling over the mouse. Emotions were conflicting fighting turmoiling tormenting thundering through my mind as I sat, near frozen.
        My finger went down, almost of its own volition, clicking on that horrifyingly mesmerizing "publish" button. It was up. It was live. There for the entire world to see for the rest of time.
        A massive wave of relief rushed through my body, and I fell back into my chair, exhausted from the emotional chaos of moments earlier, and exhilarated by my actions.
       Then I ate lunch. It was left-overs from the night before.
       If I said that I wasn't fearful of people's reactions, that would be a lie. I still am afraid of what people will say or do once they read it. I tweeted about my fears, I sent texts to my friends about it. Those friends are the only ones that I have received feedback from at this point. And I'm okay with that. They are supportive. They are loving. That's what I need.
       Coming out about gender, especially right now, is scary. There are so many places in the world where I would not be accepted. Where I would be jailed. Where I would be executed. Hate and misinformation flows freely, and bigots are bolder than ever from the perceived anonymity of the internet.
       It is exactly for these reasons that I had to come out. If I remained silent in the face of these threats and fears, I would be aiding them. It is the same for any cause: if one remains silent in the face of oppression, one is supporting the oppression. I cannot simply stand silently by and live in secret.
      That doesn't mean that I'm not scared. I am scared. But I have a responsibility, and I have the means necessary to make a stand and let my voice be heard.    

The thing about gender

     There are so many topics I want to discuss today. The fact that Mississippi still has segregated schools for one, and some more personal topics for another. There are days where I have something planned, then I read the news and I get upset. Other days I have things planned and a friend will say something that inspires me to write. Today both happened, and now I am torn between the two.
     Terrible transition!
     Gender is a complicated and fluid thing. A fact that many people in the States are coming to know rather well. As you know, a number of States have passed transphobic and homophobic laws under the guise of religious freedoms. As a result of these laws, transgendered individuals are either being forced to break the law, or use the wrong washrooms. Another result is that many businesses have pulled out of those States; including corporations like Disney, Coca-Cola, and PayPal. Even the federal government has stepped in and said they will pull funding from those States unless they repeal those laws. To most States, this is a large concern, and they are seriously considering repealing these backwards and regressive laws. Texas on the other hand, basically did the most Texas thing ever and told the federal government to, paraphrasing very slightly here (probably toning down the language tbh), fuck off. Even here in Canada, I hear whispers of people agreeing with those States. Whispers coming from religious fundamentalists, whispers from red necks, and even whispers from those who should know a little better. The part that bothers me the most, the part of me that studied to be a pastor, is the reaction of Christians. Specifically the Christians who are supporting the law. Christians have one rule, literally Jesus only gave his followers one rule: love everyone. How is supporting a law that demeans and dehumanizes people showing them love? To speak an off-topic truth: Christians today are by far the most bigoted and hateful group in North America, and that makes me so very sad.
       Many people believe that the fluidity of gender is a modern construct: a thing millennials/tumblr invented so that people could feel special. Those people are kinda morons. The idea of gender fluidity, and being born in the wrong body goes back centuries. The First Nations people (Native Americans to my friends south of the border) have long held the belief that there are four genders (feminine woman, masculine woman, feminine man, masculine man), and those are the tribes with rigid gender roles. Early European explorers in North American wrote of those they considered to be male wearing the clothes of females, and doing the work of females. Today, those people are labelled two-spirit by the First Nations people. For centuries there have been people who have had to hide their true selves out of fear, simply because they did not identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. That trend continues today. With boys being mocked for playing with "girl's toys", or for not enjoying sports or for enjoying the wrong sports! With girls being mocked for being too "boyish", and not being "girly" enough, getting called names for enjoying sports historically played by men. We are all human beings, and we should be treated as such no matter the gender we identify with!
       So many people are afraid to come out about their gender. So many people are scared of being fired from their jobs, of being kicked out of their homes, of being left alone, that they remain hidden. And with the advent of these new laws in the States, that fear has just become greater. Stories are always emerging of transgendered people being fired, abused, hurt, killed, after they come out. Those fears are the reasons that I rarely speak about gender issues, let alone come out publicly about my own.
      Until now. I've taken a stand for asexuality. I've taken a stand for feminism. Yet I've stayed quiet on gender issues out of a selfish fear. So today I take that stand. I do not identify as the gender I was assigned at birth, I identify as non-binary. What that means, very basically, is that I identify with both feminine and masculine ideas and traits. As I tick off metaphorical boxes for both those genders, I identify as neither of them. I am just as comfortable wearing completely masculine clothes as I do in clothes that are considered feminine. I look ridiculously good in a scarf and some colourful leggings, and a little bit of make-up really makes my eyes pop, and stand out. For years I have played, whenever given the choice, as a female character in video games and would just tell people it was because I enjoyed stories about strong females, or that I would rather look at a female avatar for 60+ hours than a male one. The truth is simply that I was able to relate more. That relatability spread over to my friends and social circles as well. Even at a young age, I related with females more than males. Even today, the people I have no trouble sharing personal issues with are all female. I have male friends, even some I would consider to be best friends, but I will always hesitate in sharing personal things with them. And I'm sorry for that, it has nothing to do with you, but the people I unhesitatingly open with are all female, and always have been.
        If I want to be honest with myself, if I want to be effective in my stands, if I want to be true to my beliefs, I have to be out and honest with my gender. I am proud of who I am. I am proud of what I am. Now I have to be honest about it. There is a very select few who knew most of this before now. To my friends and family who are learning of this from this very post, know that I did not tell you personally out of slight, but out of a need to just get this all out quickly.
       For those of you who may be disgusted by this, and want nothing to do with me now, know that your departure from my life will mean literally nothing to me, and that I am far better off without your hate and bile.
       To everyone else, I thank your for your continued love and support. And, if on occasion, you want to call me Zoe, feel free. 

Fighting the fights

     Wow. You guys really like it when I put swears in my titles. I'll remember that. That being said, I'm really glad you guys enjoyed that post.
      I was playing Rocket League with a friend last night, we were having a good time, and then he called something "gay". I was about to say something about that when he suddenly called himself on it. He went on to to try and figure out why he uses the term "gay" to mean something bad. He was doing this all himself! He was self-diagnosing why he said something. As with most people, he came to the conclusion that it was a hold-over from his youth, and he made the conscious decision to quit using "gay" as a substitute for "bad" or "sucks".
      I mention this because as activists, it is very easy to get mad and go after someone for a slip of the tongue, or a regression to their youth. It doesn't excuse the action, but it does explain it. And, like my friend, I am sure many (not all) of the people who use these derogatory terms are not using them from a place of hate, merely a place of ignorance or familiarity. Like old people with their causal racism, we most gently remind these people that there are other, better words to use, and that by using words like "gay", "retarded", racial terms, etc., they could unintentionally hurting people. If the person is using them without ill-intent, they will be understanding and attempt to make a change.
     If the person reacts negatively and calls you a "f****t liberal pussy" (as has happened to me, far too many times), that is when you can get upset and angry.
      As activists, we must react calmly and rationally to these things. If we get angry at the slightest perceived slight, we lose our credibility, and we become part of the problem. We become toddlers having a tantrum, making things worse instead of better. We give the bigots more ammunition to fire at the "SJWs", and we make our position seem weak and ineffectual.
       On a side note, I kinda agree with Felicia Day when it comes to the term "SJW"": since when is calling someone a warrior an insult? Hell yeah I fight for social justice.
      We must face injustices with serenity. We must answer hateful screaming with calm conversation. If we scream back at those against us, all we do is add to the noise. Too often we excuse the casual hate from our friends and family, we too easily forgive it and don't say anything. But if we can't have a meaningful conversation with those closest to us on these matters, if we can't get them to listen to us, what chance have we with the world entire?
      So the next time your friend says something is "gay", or a relative makes a racist remark, say something to them. Tell them that they shouldn't say that, and explain why. If they're a good, decent person, they'll listen and try to change. And if they aren't a good and decent person? Cut them out of your life. Don't become an audience to their hate simply because you feel a familial obligation to them. Just cut them out. Just because someone is family doesn't mean you need to listen to them or like them. Hell, there's a full side of my family that I only see at funerals.
      Fill your life with positive people, and you will be making a positive change to the world. Fill your life with positive people, and you will be more effective at making positive changes to those around you. And most of all, be a positive person yourself. Honestly believe in the fights you take; don't pick up a banner for a cause just because it's trending. Fight the fights you believe in, and only those. 

Lemonade from s**t

       "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade" has always struck me as an odd saying. If all life hands you are lemons, all you can make is lemon juice. Lemonade needs sugar and water in addition to the aforementioned lemons! People always throw out this saying when they see others being down, or going through a hard time. While I agree with the sentiment, the saying itself will always be wrong. When life is lowballing shit at you, you can't turn that into lemonade. You can't turn it into anything other than manure.
        What's manure do? It helps things grow. So when life is constantly getting you down, when nothing is going right, we take that and we grow from it. There's no point in pretending that we can take shitty situations and make them something delightful and refreshing (lemonade), instead we plant ourselves down and grow through it (manure) until we become stronger than we were before. Plus, too much lemonade would probably cause diabetes.
       I mention this because I'm growing tired of people saying to make the best out of certain situations. You can't do that with some things, and understanding that, accepting that, is part of growing wise. There are some bad situations that we can make the best of (being sick, suspensions, getting fired), but there are some that will always be shitty (death, war, American politics), and we have to accept that. It's not being pessimistic, or negative, it is simply coming to understand that life doesn't have to conform to our ideals.
      I try to remain optimistic at all times, I like to believe in the inherent goodness of mankind, but I know that isn't how life really works. I have come to accept that there are certain events and happenings that don't have a good side. Not every cloud does have a silver lining, some are just full of thunder and lightning and rain. But that's okay. The rain helps the crops grow, just as the bad times in life help us grow.
        So the next time someone tells you to make lemonade out of the lemon of your life, hand them a bottle of lemon juice and tell them to drink up. And then give the poor bugger some real lemonade, they've obviously been making it wrong their whole life. 

Thinking hurts

     I sincerely apologize for my extended absence. It was not planned. Work got super busy, and I've been sick for the past few days. Even right now I am lightheaded and finding it difficult to focus. I had a post planned for yesterday, and it will still happen, I just couldn't write it out. Every time I went to, things got blurry. It sucks. Sucks even more because I have two articles that I need to research, write, and edit by Sunday, but I'm too sick to do that right now. Even this is taking me forever to type out; I keep having to take breaks and close my eyes.
      As a writer, this kind of head cold bothers me a whole lot more than almost anything else. The mere act of thinking is tiring, and the thought of turning those thoughts into text is even more draining. My writing isn't the only aspect of my life suffering either--my filming and editing is suffering. Over the past two days, I've maybe filmed enough for one vlog. Maybe.
      Alright, this isn't going to be a full length post--in fact, this is the extent of it. 

Why do I write?

      I haven't written anything for a few days, and I feel really bad about that. Not just for depriving you all of my wonderful wit, but for depriving myself of the act of writing and creation. By not setting aside a small amount of time to just write, I have denied myself the opportunity to improve myself and my craft. And that is just unacceptable. I need to be moving forward every day with my writing. I need to be improving every day. And by not setting aside the time to do that, I was actively sabotaging myself.
      I've recently had the good fortune of having an additional two magazines add me to their writing staff, and I haven't done any writing since hearing that! I need to keep writing so that more and more people will see my work! With more people seeing my work, more people will want my work. And when more people want my work, I will have more work! I know it may be a long time before I can support myself from writing alone, but I am on the path! I've already hit several mile markers along that path, I just have to keep going! I could stop, and get comfortable. I could say these three small publications are enough for me! I could grow content. Or I could keep moving forward. I can keep exercising my abilities, keep exerting myself, keep pushing, until I hit my goal of? What is my end goal here? I want to be able to support myself through writing and creating, but is that my end goal? Do I go past that? Is my goal to be able to support myself and my loved ones? To leave a financial legacy? Or is my goal to change lives? and through that, the world?
        People that write solely for financial reasons lack passion (and common sense; writing is a hard way to make money people), and vision, and their writing suffers for it! I don't want people to say that I'm merely writing for the sake of money. People that write for fame lack a certain amount of depth, and their writing is shallow and soon forgotten--or at the very least, mocked to the point of no return. The true writers, the ones that are remembered and celebrated, write simply for the joy of writing! Of seeing their thoughts and ideas take form before their eyes! The true writers write out of love, and out of a desire to better themselves, and for a chance to better the world. And maybe those writers don't have an end goal. How can you have an end goal when you've been doing what you love the entire time?
        Is that my end goal, then? To not have an end goal? I think it is. At my current stage, my end goal is to be able to live, while doing what I love. Once I have hit that mark, everything that follows is simply extra. I like to believe that my writing is changing lives. I like to believe that my writing is serving a purpose, and that people are bettering themselves through it. But, at the end of the day, I love writing, and it is for that reason, that I write.