I'M A PROFESSIONAL WRITER AND I USE CAPS LOCK

Okay. Okay. Okay. I've calmed down sufficiently to actually type this. I have phenomenal news. Soon after I published my last blog, my editor got back to me. She loved my article. She loved it so much that instead of being online only, she has decided to print it as well! And I was supposed to be in an unpaid testing period, to see how will I fit in with the magazine and my editor. That's been scrapped. I'm getting paid for my article, and I've been added to their writing staff!
     I am now a professional writer. In every sense of the word. Getting paid to write has been my dream since elementary school, and now that dream is a reality! I have literally had one of my dreams come true. It's mind blowing. I could barely process it! I still can barely process it and it's almost been a week. I am a professional writer. After all the rejection letters, all the times I got knocked down and pushed aside, it's finally happening.
      I... I am so overwhelmed with emotions. I don't really know how to describe the amounts of sheer joy I felt, and still feel, when I read that email. I felt like I was floating. Like I was invincible. After all the hits I've taken over the past few years, I felt like I could do anything after reading that email. I read interviews from fellow writers talking about how long and hard they worked to get to where they are today, and I never thought that I would actually be able to call them my peers. If it was so hard for these people, who make up the pantheon of authors, how could I ever hope to be published? How could I ever even be on the lowest rung of that ladder to authordom. Yet here I am.
       I know a lot of negative people are out there who would belittle this accomplishment, who would tell me that it's just a magazine out of Winnipeg for the queer community. And ya know what? I'm sorry for those people. I'm sorry that they are so sad with their lives that they feel the need to belittle and degrade the accomplishments of others just to feel alright with themselves. And I know this feels a little off being added here, but I feel like I should just cover all the bases. So if you're reading this, and you feel like saying anything negative, just know that I feel sorry for you, and that I'm not going to care. Also, you can go--nope. I'm going to be nice.
      Thank you, to all of you who have believed in me, and have supported me along this crazy journey. To my parents who read and edited all the short stories I wrote in elementary and junior high, to the English teachers who have encouraged my writing since day one, to my friends who have put up with tuning them out because I had an idea and needed to get it down, to my sister Kat for always supporting me, and to everyone else, thank you. I wouldn't be celebrating this accomplishment without you. Thank you, and I love you.
       I'm expecting all of you to read it. And everything else I write.
      Also to subscribe to my channel: Zakitude Vlogs.  

Not waking up at 6

    Apparently no one liked my post yesterday. That's just super rude guys. I shared some important stuff! But, whatever. Be like that. I'll just copy and paste it into this post. See how y'all like that. I'M KIDDING! DON'T LEAVE! This will be all new stuff! Promise!
     I haven't been filming much lately, mostly because all I do during the week is drive and work, but once I get a place in the city I will be filming and posting on a more regular basis! Promise! I know you all are really missing my daily vlogs, and my general musings on life therein. I'm also considering streaming on twitch once a week once I'm in the city and have time to play video games (I am so sorry Lara, we'll [redacted] soon!) again. Just another way to expand my brand! Which was a resolution of mine, if you can remember all the way back to that post! I'm also looking at designing some shirts and stuff to sell for my vlog as well. I'm going to have so much more open time once I'm living here. I'll even be able to work on my memoir again! And work on my other writing!
     I'm hoping to have a place starting next week. That's the goal. The dream if you will.
    Honestly, I am so looking forward to not driving nearly 3 hours everyday. That's the biggest thing. And not waking up at 6 am everyday. I could sleep in until 7. And still have tons of time to get ready. That's the dream. Waking up at 7 instead of 6, that has become my dream. Well. Alright. I think I'm okay with that. 

A positive reflection on 2015

    This had a lot downs, so I'm gonna talk about the good stuff here.
    My aunt flew me out to Vancouver for two weeks this summer, which was something I desperately needed. To see the mountains again, to be in them again, to see the ocean, to smell the salt and feel it on my skin. It was home. I felt at home. I got to hang out with my cousins that I hadn't seen in over a decade, and catch up with them on what how their lives have turned out. It was wonderful. Straight up. It was so needed. I felt recharged and energized. Leaving was hard. Everyone was in tears, not just me.
     I came out this year. To friends, to family, and publicly. And also to myself. This year has been a year of self-exploration and acceptance. I've accepted who I am, and have stepped up to publicly discuss it, and bring social awareness to it. I've put myself in the public eye to help people. Not to help myself (believe me, it has not helped me in any financial way), but to help others and to let those like me know they have support and love. Coming out was a frightening experience. It took a lot of thought and strength to do it. I am glad that I have. It's allowed to help more people, and to be more honest about myself and with myself.
      I started actually putting effort into my memoir. Like, actually time and planning into how the book will come out. And I've actively been shopping it, and myself, to agents and publishers. I've had some refusals, but I also got asked to join the writing team of Manitoba's largest LGBTQIA+ magazine, OutWords. That's one of my biggest personal accomplishments, and I am still freaking out about it. So much is riding on my first article, that I am in the process of writing. Literally a dream come true.
      Last, and most definitely not least, all of the people who have come into my life this year. This is easily the biggest and most important event (???) to transpire this year. I've met so many amazing people within the asexual community, and outside of it, who have encouraged me and supported me. Who have urged me on to do bigger and better things, and who have been beside me in my struggles and dark times. Each of you, and I'm debating naming you, are amazing people, and I am so blessed to have had you enter my life when you did. I kinda talked about you all in my Global Family post (http://zakitudeblogs.blogspot.ca/2015/12/global-family.html), but y'all are so awesome I gotta mention you again! Thank you for lighting up my year. Thank you for becoming family. And thank you for your love and support. I honestly love you guys, even when I don't say it.
     A nice quick run through of the major good stuff that happened this year! For some reason this took two days to write... I don't even know why. 

My New Years Resolutions

        New Years resolutions are usually a thing I avoid making, or at the most I just say that I'm going to try and be a better person. A friend recently told me that I should actually make some this year, and being the easily manipulated person that I am, I have decided to go for it.
       I was told that my resolutions should be actual goals to strive for both professionally and personally. Since I am making myself a public figure, I am posting my resolutions here, for all to see! All twenty of you that read my blog on a regular basis.

I'm just gonna list them, I was going to separate them by category, but too bad:

1. put more effort and time into my ongoing creative pursuits
1. that's YouTube, my blogs, and instagram
1. writing is separate from this
1. calm down
2. put more time and effort into my personal writings
1. that includes my poetry and personal writings (journal entries, rants, facebook status updates)
2. make my tweets more clever
3. put more effort into my online branding
1. again, that would be my blogs, my YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter
4. find a place to live in Yorkton while working for the film festival
5. set aside dedicated time for my writing for OutWords magazine
6. work out more
7. be more open with the people who matter
8. care less about the people who don't
9. be more outspoken on important issues
10. drive less
11. spend less
12. save more
13. focus on the positives, not the negatives
14. be a better friend
15. be a better person (ha! sneaked it in there)
16. put more time and effort into the writing I'm planning on publishing
1. memoir, novels, short stories
17. create better content for YouTube
18. try and actually do some of this!

There. I actually made some resolutions. Happy, Kiara?



Damn well better be, that was so out of character for me.  

I am a feminist

    Remember when I said that my next blog was going to be an important one, then I didn't even write one? And when I did, it was just an apology? No? None of you remember that? Thank goodness.
     Well, the time has come. This is it. The foretold important one. Usually when I do this, I say something really lame and unimportant after it... maybe I shouldn't be building this up so much.
     I am a feminist. I believe that all humans, man, woman, and everyone else (myself being part of the else, calm down) deserve to and should be treated with equality. I realize that I appear very masculine, and I know I may draw a lot of flak for that reason by talking about this, but it's a chance I'm willing to take.
     Feminism is an important topic and issue, that everyone should be talking about. That being said, it is beyond ridiculous that it is still an issue! As Prime Minister Trudeau said when asked why his cabinet was equal, it's 2015. We shouldn't be worried that people are being paid less just because of their gender, we shouldn't be worried that there's a second class of citizen because of their gender. We live in a civilized world where we can watch our favourite teen dramas online whenever we want, but we can't have equality? Instead we have people arguing that feminism is stupid, that the facts behind inequality are wrong, and we have rampant sexism "mansplaining" things to us lower beings who believe it!
     The mansplainers don't just target women either, they go after the male feminists too! It's like they can't believe that a man could want equality! It's happened to me! I used to think mansplaining was one of those things that happened to other people but would never happen to me. Boy, was I wrong.
     I'm off topic.
     I felt that it was important that I come out as feminist. I'm pretty sure no one thought that I wasn't, but it's much better to actually just straight up say that I am.
    I believe, possibly controversially, that it is very important for males who believe in equality to label themselves as feminist. If we could have every person who believes in equality stand up and declare themselves a feminist, what are the mansplainers going to do? Mansplain to all of us why we're wrong? Actually, they probably would take the time and at least attempt to do just that...
     Equality shouldn't be something that we need to fight for. It's something that should be automatic. More and more people are coming to realize this, but the people against it (wtf people?) are getting more and more vocal. I know there are a lot of males out there who support the movement, but won't come out in vocal support in fear of their peers calling them names and personally attacking them! That's what the enemies of feminism have in their arsenal: name calling. That's extent of their armoury. And they think they have a point! They don't see how backward and damaging their thinking is to the world. The sad thing is, these are the people who are super vocal about the "evils of Islam", and as more ignorant people agree with them on that, they'll start agreeing that feminism is wrong too! They'll start using terms like "feminazi" whenever a woman speaks out, they'll start making the sexist jokes that they've always secretly believed, and we will stay exactly where we are.
     I am feminist. I believe in equality for the entire human race. I've spoken out against racists and Islamophobes, but I haven't publicly spoken out against sexism, and by not doing that I'm enabling them. I don't want to enable them. They are wrong. They need to spoken against. I need to be more outspoken in my stance on feminism. My support needs to be more visible.
      Feminism isn't some evil plot by women to take over the world. It's a fight against an outdated, sexist, racist, and xenophobic system that needs to be torn down. The fact that people take offence to term, shows exactly how much it is still needed in our world.
     I am a feminist. I hope you are too. 

About today's video

     Today, I am tired. Like, exhausted. But that's alright. I published a video today that I am super proud of. It was my fiftieth vlog. I took extra time composing the shots. I took extra editing them to make the video flow and to just seem different and special compared to my everyday vlogs.
     I'm not saying that all my videos aren't special, but I took way more time and put in way more effort for this one because I wanted to make it extra special. While editing, I actually got a little emotional as I began to see the beginnings of the final product.
      I enjoyed the silent film quality it had, once you remove the music it is completely silent other than the opening minute of monologue. I feel that taking away the sound really allowed the visuals to come to the forefront and allow the motions to be seen rather than heard. I'm going to be honest, the shot of my dog, Teasag (pronounced Chessa, it's Celtic), being super excited and running and jumping gave me a lump in my throat. You could see the joy in her actions, you didn't need to hear her paws hitting the floor, you could just see it.
      I think it was a very pure film. It allowed me, as a filmmaker, to try things that I hadn't tried before.
     I think it is a beautiful little film, and I hope you all enjoy it as well.

You can watch it here: https://youtu.be/d5ZVBieqKpA

The Importance of Star Trek

     I forgot to post yesterday... oops. Sorry about that, I just kept getting sidetracked by things. Mainly Star Wars. I mean, very professional, adult things. Yup, not Star Wars at all.

     ahem

     It`s no excuse, I know. I`m very sorry. 

     Anyways, because I started this off with Star Wars I`m going to talk about Star Trek in this blog. Logic! Don`t question my logic, I`m pretty much a Vulcan, so I know more about logic than you. Unless you`re an actual Vulcan... In which case, please message me so we can hang out in space and stuff. 

     Star Trek is very important to our culture and to the modern age. But Zak, you interrupt rudely, it was just a tv show! How is it important?

     Well, ignorant fool, it was a whole franchise of TV shows, 5 live-action with a sixth being worked on, and 12 movies with the 13th coming out next summer. So, not just a tv show. Gosh. Star Trek inspired generations of scientists, philosophers, and politicians. Cellphones were invited because people wanted the communicators from The Original Series. The Next Generation inspired laptops and tablets. Deep Space Nine explored the the human psyche on levels most television would have never dared to!

     One of the most culturally significant aspects of Star Trek comes from The Original Series. It was a show, that during the height of race riots and the Cold War, featured a black woman and Russian man as main characters. Not just main characters either, officers who held crucial positions on the flagship for Earth`s fleet. Uhura became an icon. Young Black girls in the 1960`s got to watch a series every week that showed them that they could do whatever they wanted. Uhura and Chekov showed a future where race didn`t matter because we were all human. 

      One of the most significant, and radical things Star Trek did, was to showcase the first, the very first, inter-racial kiss on television. For the first time in television history, a white man was shown kissing a black woman. It was revolutionary! And ridiculously controversial. 

      And Star Trek stayed controversial. It touched on subjects like same-sex relationships, poly-amorous relationships, racism, xenophobia, PTSD, consequences of war, torture, and so many more. They never did for publicity, all the things came up through clear and consistent story-telling, and were always done with grace.   

       There`s a section of my memoir dedicated to Star Trek where I go in-depth into the personal significance it holds. I love Star Trek. And I will say that it is the most important piece of pop culture ever produced until I fall into my grave. 

      That`s it for today. Tomorrow I have an interview with the longest running film festival in North America, so the tone of tomorrow`s blog will probably hinge on that... 

       

Sarcastic AF

       Alright, alright, I'll start writing.
       Hey, how's life treating you today?
      That's a terrible way to start a blog, sounds like a fricking email.
      Technology mildly worked for me today. YouTube froze a bunch while uploading, but it only made it take like an hour extra. And I was able to get a bunch of other stuff done as well! Yay for productivity! I'm looking at ways to promote my content on the cheap (read: free), and in that vein, I have started an official tumblr page for my vlog!!! YAY! Wow. Chill out caps lock McGee. You can find my page at: zakitudevlogs.tumblr.com. Yet another way I'm giving you to find and watch my videos with having to go to the dreaded YouTube.
      I've been told sarcasm isn't an attractive trait. But what do those people know? They haven't even looked in a mirror lately. I mean, come on, people in glass houses.
       I think that's the meanest I've been in one of these... I must be tired. (hint: I am) I apologize to any of the sarcastically impaired people whom I may have offended with my comment.
      But seriously, just because you don't understand a sarcastic comment doesn't mean you need to broadcast your ignorance.
       Down boy. Be nice.
      Hello. This has been blogging with a tired Zak. Please go and follow his YouTube channel for content when he isn't falling asleep at keyboards: youtube.com/user/shran100. Like his page on Facebook: facebook.com/zakitudevlogs. Join his group for Canadian Asexuals: facebook.com/canadianaces. And follow him on tumblr where he reblogs scarves: zakitudevlogs.tumblr.com

The Doctor's Faults

***MAJOR DOCTOR WHO SPOILERS***

       So, that happened on Saturday. I knew it was coming, we've all known that it was coming for a while, so it wasn't too shocking. I think the most emotional part of Clara's death was the Doctor's reaction. And Me's realization of what she had inadvertently done. That said, the Doctor was directly responsible for Clara's demise.

     How could I say that, you ask? Let's take a look.

     First off, let's talk about Ashildr. Remember her from way back like five episodes ago? She was the innocent young viking girl with the vivid imagination, whose story telling saved her village. Unfortunately she died doing this. The Doctor, racked with guilt after Clara told him to feel that way, took a med-kit from one of the deceased aliens and brought her back to life. This med-kit had some side-effects, the main one being that it made her immortal. The episode ends with a beautifully sad shot of her standing by herself as time moves around her, leaving her unchanged. When the Doctor sees her next, a mere 800 years later, she is living the life of a highwayman, robbing from the rich and keeping for herself. We learn that she barely remembers her name and has taken to calling herself Lady Me. She tells the Doctor that while she may be immortal, she still has a normal memory span. She shows the Doctor her library, filled with hundreds of journals that she has written to remember what she's done. The Doctor reads these journals and learns that during her 800 years she has lived through and taken part in almost all the major events during those times, and even had children. Children that she lost to the Plague. A bunch of events happen, and at the end of it the Doctor and Ashildr part as people working toward the same goal differently. The Doctor is out to save the planet, and Ashildr is out to save the planet from the Doctor. They aren't enemies, but they are far from friends. When we finally saw Ashildr again on Saturday, she had radically changed once again. But I'll get to that later.

       Now for the Doctor. Twelve is a very different Doctor, especially from the more recent ones. He's callous and harsh, he doesn't know how to be nice to people, and he doesn't really care. Clara has slowly been making him care: "She's my care-er. She cares so I don't have" all the way to making him flash cards on how to be nice. Twelve has gotten more "human" since his first episode. Remember it? With the ambiguous ending of did he push the cyborg or talk it into committing suicide? He learned to care about Clara fairly quickly, and he's needed her to make him care about other people. The Doctor has always been confidant, but Twelve has taken the levels of cockiness to new extremes. He knows that he is going to win because he always has. And his fake it until an actual plan forms method has been rubbing off on Clara this whole time. We've seen the Doctor become like his companions, and we've seen his companions become like the Doctor, but never this negatively before. Twelve is calm and methodical, and very often doesn't seem to care when people die, so long as Clara survives. We've seen countless people die and the Doctor not hesitate until Clara is in danger. Clara isn't/wasn't his weakness, she was his humanity. A humanity that was somehow lost in between Eleven and Twelve. This hasn't been fully explained, but I believe it has something to do with the new set of regenerations Eleven received at Trenzalore. 

       And finally, Clara. Clara started off as a mystery for Eleven to solve, who then stuck around after the mystery was solved. She floundered as a companion for a bit after this, probably because the writers hadn't bothered with giving her dimensions beyond "she's a mystery!", but after a few episodes with Twelve, she began to actually have a character and a purpose. She began to teach the Doctor how to care again, she began to slowly give him back his humanity. In process of this, she began to lose her own. She started to become more and more like the Doctor. She got his cocky attitude, and negligence towards other people (in a small way). She even pretended, very convincingly to be the Doctor on several occasions. Even convincing Cybermen that she was the Doctor at one point! We've seen her take more and more risks, all the while calling them clever plans. Which culminated in Face the Raven, when she convinced Rigsy to give her his death sentence because Ashildr (Mayor Me) had given Clara her personal guarantee that nothing would happen to her. Not knowing the full details of Ashildr's abilites, or the deals that Ashildr had made, Clara thought this was exceedingly clever. Something she repeatedly told Rigsy, who still thought it was a bad idea. 

        Should've listened to Rigsy. 

        The Doctor figures out that Ashildr is working for someone, proves Rigsy was innocent, and should've won the day! Only to find out that Clara had taken the death sentence. Ashildr admits that her personal guarantee of protection won't work with this because of deals that she has made, and that there is nothing she can do to save Clara. There's nothing the Doctor can do either. He threatens Ashildr, threatens to rain hell down upon what she has built up. Clara stops him mid-threat, telling him that he would stop the instant he heard a baby crying. She then tells the Doctor to not seek revenge, to get on with his life and to not stay alone, because he can't handle that (he really can't, which we have seen numerous times). She says good bye, and goes into the street to await death, while the Doctor watches from the doorway.

         This is, of course, all the Doctor's fault. He gave Ashildr immortality then left her for 800 years, without a thought of the consequence to his actions. He forced Clara into situations that made her think like him. He runs in, fixes problems, and then doesn't stick around to deal with the fallout. If the Doctor had acted with more thought and care for the consequences, maybe Clara would still be alive.

      But probably not since this was Jenna Coleman's last season anyways... 

Asexuality and Loneliness

       In today's post I am going to write about loneliness. Not the "no one loves me" kind of loneliness, but the "there's no one like me" kind of loneliness.
       I just did a quick search for Facebook groups on asexuality, I was looking especially for ones that were in Saskatchewan. Finding a total of ZERO, I expanded my search to encompass all of Canada. I found four. And many of them were closed groups where you had to get approved to join, and the ones that were open had regular posts reminding the users to report anyone who was being acephobic. For those who aren't regularly involved within the LGBTQIA+ community, acephobia is much like homophobia, but dealing with asexuality. The reasons these warning have to be continually posted is simple and frightening: the general public doesn't believe in our existence, or when they do, they don't understand. And when the general public doesn't believe or understand something, they mock the people who are part of it.
       This isn't limited to the general public either. I've had members of the queer community ask me ignorant questions, and belittle my experiences as not "gay enough". Obviously this isn't meant to say that everyone is acephobic, on the contrary there are many people who are supportive and have genuinely wanted to learn more about the ace community.
      The sad fact is that so many aces keep it to themselves because they don't want to be questioned or insulted or told that they're broken. The feeling of brokenness is something many aces have in common. Asexuality isn't taught in schools, it's not shown on mainstream television (and when it is most often the characters are treated like jokes or people that need to be fixed), so it is hard for many people to find about it. Many aces, especially teenagers constantly surrounded by hormones and a hyper-sexualized cultures, wonder if they are broken because they are not feeling the sexual attraction that society deems necessary for everyday living! I buried my feelings of brokenness in religion and told myself that my lack of sexual attraction was simply because I was super Christian. It wasn't until I was 24 and stumbling around the internet that I saw a mention of asexuality for the first time. My first thought was not a gracious one. I thought Man, they have names for everything these days! I don't feel sexual attraction, I don't call myself anything! It took me a long time to fall asleep that night because I kept thinking about it, and the next day I spent hours researching it.
      It took some time for me to admit to myself that I was asexual. I wasn't ashamed, I just didn't have the knowledge. I didn't want to admit that I had been lying to myself, covering up my sexuality with other things.
       I didn't want to be honest with myself.
      I didn't want to be alone.
      Asexuality exists in a very small percentage of people: one percent. At most. Studies have said that up to 1% of adults are asexual. Compared to the 10-20% that homosexual or bisexual. We live in a world that barely accepts or understands gay people, and they represent up to one fifth of the entire population! Now imagine how the world reacts to a group of people that make up one one hundredth of the population!
       I have a few friends within the asexuality community, friends that are scattered around the entire planet. Some of them are still trying to come to terms with the fact that they aren't broken, some of them lie to people about their sexuality, while others are actively trying to make themselves "straight" because society says that they should be.
       This summer I was at the fifth largest pride parade in the world. The Vancouver Pride Parade is an event that has over 650 000 people participating, which makes it the largest parade period in Western Canada. In the parade were groups representing the trans communities, the gay communities, the bi communities, the lesbian communities, the fetish communities, allies, two-spirit, non-binary, people representing pan-sexuality. But no one for the asexual community. I had never felt like I was more apart and more separate from something in my entire life. I watched the parade with a super cute lesbian couple and a gay guy. They loved it and gave off great energy. I loved it too, but I still felt left out because there was nothing in the parade, no one in the 650 000, that was representing my community. Once the euphoria of being part of something so large wore off, I felt this immense loneliness.
        About a month and a half before this I had been at the Saskatoon Pride Parade, a parade that was about one percent the size of Vancouver's, and there was a slight difference. There were people in the parade with signs saying they were asexual. Living proof of other asexuals! Right in front of my face! It was amazing! I wasn't alone! In a crowd of thousands, I wasn't alone, yet in a crowd of hundreds of thousands I was. Strange feelings.
          Being asexual is a strange experience. On one hand you're now part of a larger community with people like you, but on the other hand you're also being excluded by larger communities who deny your very existence. All at once you're part of this large community and alone at the same time. The dichotomy of our existence.
        I love who and what I am, I wouldn't change it for anything. But I do feel alone at times, and I would love to have ace friends closer to home. For now I am content with the friends I have around the world. Just knowing that they are out there cuts the loneliness down.
        To any fellow aces reading this, you are not alone, you are not broken. I love each and every one of you. To everyone else reading this, thank you for taking your time to read something that doesn't directly involve you.
       For now, loneliness is just one of the many things that an ace has to accept, but this will not always be the case. Until that day, I love you, and I am here for all of you.

About the refugees

      Ok. News video has been live for almost a day now. I can do this without spoiling it, right?
      Look at these pictures and then tell me that the refugees shouldn't be allowed in Canada:

     I think that first image sends a pretty clear message. A message that so many people are keen on proving correct. Why would you want to approve that message? France was the nation that was attacked, do you know what their response to the refugees was? Keep em coming. France has agreed to bring in even more refugees than they had already pledged to. The one country where it may have been understandable for them to say "no" to the refugees. And they want to bring in more. Because They want to help people. They want to save lives. Almost immediately after the attacks, they pledged to bring in more refugees. That's the human spirit. That's what makes me believe in humanity.

       The hate in the world really pisses me off. 

       A friend of mine told me that he thought I was too harsh in yesterday's video. This was my response: "I get that you thought I was harsh. And that was my goal. These are harsh times, and the people preaching hate aren't listening to people being calm and sensitive. Do you know how many time I've been called a bleeding heart liberal pussy from the times I've tried being calm and gentle with these people? No. You don't. I've tried playing nice. It didn't work." 

       These people need our help. And you know with the roles reversed, that they would be helping us. 

The one that ended super seriously

     I filmed my most controversial news video yet. It shouldn't be something that's controversial, but I know it will be. I don't want to spoil it, you'll need to watch my video to see why.
     Today was a weird day.
     I didn't get as much accomplished as I wanted, or I feel like I didn't? I got a news show filmed, I sent off emails about Zakitude Consulting, but I didn't get any actual writing done, and that's where the feeling disaccompliment comes from.
     I'm a writer, but so much of my energy today went into different projects (my body and my business) instead of my passion. The days I feel most fulfilled are the days when I realistically get the least accomplished but got tons of writing done. I've probably got too many games going on right now, and I should narrow my focus, but I want all of these to succeed. I probably should focus on one of them until it does succeed, but I'm too nervous to put all my energy behind one project. What if I put all my efforts into one thing and it fails? Then where am I? Probably the same place I am right now...
      I got really mad while filming the news this afternoon. Like, super mad. Filming got intense, and I got emotional. It was a hard thing to film. While searching for a thumbnail just now, I got sad. I sat and looked at all the potential options, my heart slowly breaking.
      The world is standing at the edge of a cliff. There is so much hate floating around right now, that the smallest breeze will push the world over, and we all will fall with it. We can save the world, but it will require all of us. All of us have to stand up to the hate and show it that love is stronger. We cannot let the hate when. We cannot allow the hate to consume the world and bring it down around us.
     Come on people. Stand up. 

Started Working Out Again

     I started working out again. Today was my first serious work out in about two years, and it feels pretty good. Even the run through blowing snow on somewhat icy streets felt good.
     That said, going for a run with my Scottish Terrier was not my best idea today. She kept stopping to sniff things and I would have to run in place until she was ready to go again. Almost fell a few times too when she decided to stop suddenly while behind me.
     Good times for her, I am sure.
     I was feeling improvements in my flexibility even after this first work out, so I'm excited to see how the progression goes for me! And talking about it in my vlog is a good source of accountability!
     Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a health and fitness blog, I just felt like sharing this. I feel good right now; I'm a little sore, but it's a good sore. I'm already feeling more energetic too!
      Emailed a couple more agents today, still going strong on that front, hopefully I hear from one soon! It would be nice to know that this risk is paying off. I`m sure it will in the long run, but paying bills isn't a long-term thing. It is shockingly short-term.
      If you're enjoying my blogs, please go and subscribe to my youtube channel: youtube.com/user/shran100
      I post daily vlogs there, a weekly news show, and random special videos about once a month! Please go give me a like on my latest video, and subscribe so you don't miss a thing!  

My Cat

     I'm going to start with saying that I am truly sorry for missing yesterday's blog post. I went my mom into the city for an appointment, and got back far too late for me to write a good post, and I didn't feel like copying and pasting another section of my memoir. That would've been cheating! Two days in a row!
     My mind is elsewhere right now. My fifteen year old cat isn't feeling too good right now, and with her advanced age, whenever she feels a little under the weather I worry in overdrive. Her health is dominating my thought process right now. She's very important to me. I've had her since I was ten, and she a few weeks old. She has been present for all of my major life events, and has been a constant source of comfort for me.
      I've always had cats in my life, but I've never had one in my life as long as Phantom.
      She came home on my school bus.
      Mom was my bus driver, and one of her favourite kids told her about all the kittens running around their farm. So we, being responsible kids needing to get home and do our homework, convinced Mom that we should stop and check out all the kittens. I didn't pick Phantom, she picked me. She climbed on the bus and decided to come home. And she's been with me ever since. She was the cat we brought down to the lake with us in the summer, the cat that most often slept in my bed. When I went to university, I had a picture of her on my desk (I also had pictures of my friends and family, calm down).
      Phantom is very important to me, and frankly I'm scared to lose her. I'm scared to face life without her. Just thinking about it makes me cry.
     I barely got any writing done today, my mind just couldn't stay focused. This small post has taken the better part of an hour, any serious thoughts of writing are inconceivable (that's the first time I've used that word. And yes, Inigo, I am using it properly).
     Anyways, hopefully I can get some serious writing done tomorrow. Hopefully Phantom is feeling 111% better.
   

     Oh! I have my first potential client for Zakitude Consulting! Got that email yesterday. That's exciting. 

My first friend, with love and loss

     My question mark is working... who thinks I can go through a whole blog without using i... this is not promising.
     My last two blogs have been fairly serious. One was about narcissism and art, the other was about terrorism and the negative affects upon society that hate has. This one should probably be less serious.
      Maybe I should go with something funny and lighthearted! Technically I should've used a question mark there, but I went for a dramatic effect instead. Don`t question it, I`m an artist.
      Instead of any of that, I am going to share with you a section from my memoir, which is what I am currently writing. The following section is about my first real friendship, and how it shaped my entire life. Ashley was the first person to read it, and she loved it. I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Ashley was my first best friend. Probably my first friend period since we were the same age and neighbours, but saying she was my first best friend doesn’t sound as sad. I mean, I don’t want people feeling sorry for me yet. That’s reserved for future chapters!

Ahem. Back to the topic at hand: Ashley. Ashley was a lot like me. We even kinda looked alike (sorry Ash): wavy light blonde hair, bright eyes, our families dressed us alike, it was uncanny. I have a habit of showing people a picture of Ash and I when we were around three and asking them to point out which one I was. Much to the belittling of my already belittled ego, they often point at Ashley. I’m sure I would get a much different answer with a more modern picture (at least I’m sure Ashley hopes I would), but I enjoy my little game that allows people to take shoots at my fragile male ego.

(this is the picture. I’m on the right. I think)

We were neighbours with her grandparents, and through some stuff that is none of anyone’s business, she often stayed with them. All this time with her grandparents allowed us to spend copious amounts of time with each other. We would run around the backyard, eat cookies, drink lemonade, and everything else proper southern children were supposed to do.

Don’t look at me like that. Nanaimo is pretty south for Canada.

She was always there, and for those few years in Nanaimo, we grew up together. The foundations of who we would become were laid in our time spent together, and it would be evident, years later, that both of our foundations were fairly similar. We would both grow into the people that we are today based on the experiences and lessons we learnt together at that young age. She was my first best friend, she is my oldest friend, and to this day she is still my sister.

On a weird segue from that emotional paragraph, into something which may seem slightly incestuous now: she was also my first kiss. She says I initiated it. I’m pretty sure she did though. I was, and am, a gentleman and a scholar, and would never dream of kissing a lady without her express permission.

I was… three? Sure. We’ll say three. Ashley and I were hanging out in the massive backyard, sitting on one of the Harleys. I was looking fly as hell (as fly as anyone could in the early 90s) with my khaki shorts, white sun hat, and yellow framed shades (possibly the same ones I stared that cop down with). I was sitting in front, it was my Hog after all, and she riding behind. She looked nowhere near as fly I did. It would have been physically impossible for anyone else to look that fly in that close of proximity. Probably would’ve caused an explosion or something. I was looking back her, chatting it up, playing it super cool, when she had the nerve—the audacity!—to lean forward and give me a quick peck on the lips! I was flabbergasted! I was quite literally gobsmacked! She smacked me right on the old gob!

Of course, if you ask her, she will say that I kissed her, and probably a tomes worth of other vile lies about my character. Like that I thought Theodore the Tugboat was cooler than Thomas the Tank. Thomas the Tank for life son! Although… Theodore the Tugboat was pretty ballin’.

My time spent with Ashley was probably the most significant and important part of my early childhood. I’m not kidding about that. After we moved to Gabriola Island in 1994, I didn’t hear from her for nearly fifteen years. This was the 90s. Calling people on a different island was hassle and expensive, the internet was barely public, and even mailing letters was hard to do. So we fell out of each other’s lives.

And for fifteen years I forgot how important she was in my life. How integral she was to my state of being.

 Then, one night in grade 12, I was sitting at my computer chatting with friends on MSN (MSN was like Facebook chat, but way cooler) and Facebook, when I got a friend request and a message from some girl. The message was basically this: “Hey. My aunt says that we knew each other when we were kids.”

Enticing. So I added her, and we began messaging back and forth. As we messaged all the memories came flooding back. The fact that I called her Ash and she called me Yak. The time spent outside in the perennial sunshine of our childhood. The fact that we hadn’t seen or heard from each other in a decade and a half was not a hindrance. We were as in sync as we had been when we were four. We began calling each other, and would just spend hours chatting, catching up on the past fourteen years. My parents and I went out to Vancouver that summer (2008) to spend time with family, and Ashley and I made plans to meet up and hang out for the first time since we were four.

She was still living in Nanaimo at the time, so she came over on the ferry with her grandma, and her aunt (the one that found me on Facebook), and we all reunited at Horseshoe Bay.

I don’t know how to explain that afternoon. When we saw each other, it was as if those fourteen years had never happened. We were as comfortable with each other as we had been all those years before. Our minds were in sync. We made the same jokes. We liked the same kind of pop culture. Listened to the same genres of music. Had the same opinion on all important matters (Harry Potter and Star Wars). We acted the same as each other. We even were dressed in the same colours (honestly, it was not planned).

We were like two sides of the same person. We even liked and disliked the same foods. It was uncanny how alike we were.

We spent that afternoon making obscure pop culture references, and some not so obscure, that neither of our families got, but we understood each and every one.

When I said that those early years laid the foundations of who we would become, I wasn’t being over dramatic, or exaggerating, I was simply stating a fact. We spent almost every day of our toddlerhood together, and then the next fourteen years apart, but when we were reunited we were almost identical. Those first four years of my life were not just the foundation; they were the complete blue print of my life. Everything that I would do, everything that I would come to love and enjoy, everything I am stems from those times spent with Ashley.

Which seems like an incredible burden to place on a four year old.

I felt like a whole person that afternoon. Like all my separate parts were rejoined. That evening, when they had to get back on that ferry, we said good bye. It’s an odd experience having to say good bye to someone that you haven’t seen in so long. Someone who shaped your very being, and then was lost for over decade. How in the cosmic realm is one supposed to say good bye to that person?

With ice cream cones.

Ice cream cones answer most of life’s most pressing and existential questions.

We got ice cream, slowly walked over to the boarding area, and tearfully hugged goodbye with promises to stay in better contact.

Saying other half sounds like I’m being romantic, but that is not the case. I have no memories of my early childhood that do not include Ashley, no important, life defining early age event that did not include her in some way. She was part of me, in the same way that siblings are part of each other.

Ashley is such a fundamental part of who I am, and I don’t know if I’ve ever actually told her that. To be honest, writing this chapter, short as it is, was extremely difficult. All kinds of emotions came into play, and I was flooded with old memories and more recent regrets.

We kept our promise for a while. Texting every day, calling once a week, but life, as it always does, tends to get in the way. Contact began to come more sporadically, it’s always there, but it’s a rare occurrence now. We needed to be in each other’s lives as toddlers, and we needed to be reunited on the cusp of adulthood, and we will eventually need each other again. But for now, we’re just stars in the night sky: always in sight, but never in contact.

About yesterday

     Yesterday the worst terrorist attack on a western city since 9/11 happened. It was a tragedy. For the first hour of the live footage I stood transfixed, my eyes barely leaving the television screen, not even a thought of sitting down. My heart broke for the people of Paris, and for the entire country of France. My heart was aching for those poor hostages inside the Bataclan concert hall, and I almost cried when I heard that most of the hostages were killed. 
     Yesterday was tragedy on a global scale, yet the outpouring of love for the people of Paris warmed my heart. And then all the hate started pouring out of people. I was expecting the hate. I was ready for it. What I wasn't ready for was hearing it come from people that I used to respect. People who I thought understood what it meant to be a decent person. People who were proud Canadians who seemed to forget how Canadians are supposed to act. 
     I know yesterday was hard to process for many people, it was hard for me too. I know that it makes it easier for some when there are people to blame. But where do you get off blaming the attacks on helpless refugees who are fleeing their war-torn country to get away from these kind of acts. These refugees, over half of whom are under 18, saw these kinds of atrocities on a daily basis! They left their country, their homes, to come to the safety and understanding of our supposed civilized western cultures. Instead they have found mistrust, hate, and blame. 
     Why?
     Because they're Muslim. Because they aren't white. Because they come from a culture that our superior minds can't understand. Because the loudest people in our cultures are (sorry for this) the most idiotic and close-minded. They look at the American media, well-known for scare-tactics and not for reporting the news, and they believe everything they see without actually checking the facts. 
     These people see that a group of people, a significantly small percentage, who call themselves Muslim doing terrible things and these people associate every living person who practices Islam with these radicals. It's stupid. Plain and simple. You don't hear people going around and saying all white Christians hate gays and think they should be killed, because not all of them do. You don't hear people saying that all white people think black people are inferior. You don't hear that all guys want to rape and take advantage of women. 
    Do you know what makes those people different from Muslims? Muslims, mostly, aren't white. 
     We, as people from western countries, have gotten so good at saying "not all Christians", "not all white people", "not all men", we hear these arguments constantly! Whenever a hate group that claims to be Christian does something horrible, everyone rises up and proudly proclaims: "Not all Christians!" Whenever some frat house does something remarkably degrading, or a person gets raped because no one stepped in to stop it, men all across the land stand erect and shout: "Not all guys!" Why do we hear the same fucking argument over and over again when it comes to white people? Because we don't want people to think bad of our culture. A culture which promotes violence, uplifts men for sexual conquests while degrading women for the same, and awards the theft of ideas and culture for your own benefit. 
     Wanna know one culture that does almost the opposite of that? Islam. 

     "For that cause We decreed for the Children of Israel that whosoever killeth a human being, it shall be as if he had killed all mankind, and whoso saveth the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all mankind." 5:32, of the Quran. These terrorists aren't Muslims. The refugees you're blaming aren't terrorists. They are people begging for help. They are our brothers and our sisters, and they need our love right now. Not our hate. 

      All of you who are preaching hate right now, I need you to look deep into your hearts and ask yourself why? Why would you spread lies and hate about defenseless people? These people have had their homes taken away, and have had their lives ripped out of their hands! 

      When did Canada become so white-centric? When did xenophobia start to rule this country? 

       I am disgusted at my country right now. I used to be proud to call myself Canadian, but I am slowly having my country taken away from me.

      Canada, these refugees need our love and support right now. They need us to be the Canadians the rest of the world remembers. The ones our fathers and forefathers fought and died for. Not this place we are becoming. 

     Yesterday was a tragedy, but the fallout from it is endemic of our culture. Hate and suspicion have replaced common decency. 

     To all those calling to stop the 25 000 refugees from coming into Canada, can you sleep at night knowing that you are condemning those people, 12 500 of which are children, to death?

     I couldn't, but I still have a soul. 

Narcissism and Art

     I said yesterday that art and narcissism go hand-in-hand, and I'm here today to explain this probably controversial theory.
     Controversial, that is, to anyone who is not a serious artist, or that invested in the art community.
     Art takes many forms: the various types of painting, sculpting, drawing, writing, poetry, game design, theatre, film, television, etc.. It is all art. What drives all artists, no matter the genre, is the burning belief that they have something to share with the world. They believe that there are people out in the wide world that are interested in what they are creating, and will invest their precious time, and even more precious money, into consuming those creations.

     The average person doesn't think that way. The average person doesn't behave so selfishly to make people spend money on something that could boil down to ink and pulp. But artists do. 

I'm an artist. I believe that there are people who want to read what I write, who want to watch what I film and perform, and I believe that there are people who will experience profound emotions upon experiencing my various works.
     Hell, I'll be extra honest: I know that people will experience emotional revelations from my work.      Because I experience emotional revelations from my work. And if I can experience something like that from the art that I myself have created, I know that other people will. People always experience emotions from something new.
     To be successful in these fields, and I am no where near a success (I will be), you need that undying belief to be able to put yourself in the line of fire. You need to believe that what you are creating is important. Without that belief, whatever you have created will sit on a shelf gathering dust until one of your descendants finds it long after you are dead.
     This insane belief that people want what you're creating helps to deal the stress too, because being an artist, especially at the start of a career, is one of the most stressful things you can do. You know that what you're creating is important and groundbreaking, but is the rest of the world intelligent enough to realize it? Is the rest of humanity advanced enough to realize what is happening? These things are impossible to know until you finally take that leap of faith.
     Devoting your life to your art is a daunting prospect. One that I am facing right now. I know that authors face rejection on a daily basis, I know that many authors struggle for years before they get their first break. Do I have the mental fortitude to do this?
     I'm not a confidant person. I have very low self-esteem. Except when it comes to my work. To my art. I don't give a fuck about what you say about me, but as soon as you mock my art, I will end you. My art is my child. It is what I am proud of in this life. It is what brings me joy. It is what truly allows me to be myself. To be free and escape from the capitalist hellhole that is modern life.
I know that my art is important to the world. I know that the stories I'm going to tell are going to make a difference in people's lives. I know that what I create will be important.
     These beliefs, coupled with the confidence in one's art, is a type of narcissism. A very necessary type. I never argue with people when they call me a narcissist, I simply agree. 

Thank you! / How to get one million views!

To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing here.
Like, I don't have an idea for this post. I'm literally just typing and words are coming out. It's like stalling, but digitally.
How many people are actually reading this? and how desperate and needy did that sound?
A million. The answer is a million. Which is how many views this blog will get!






in around a thousand years. Don't get your hopes up John.

I wanna thank you guys, the ones who read this and watch my videos. You guys are amazing and awesome. The only reason that I do this is for you. That and I'm huge narcissist. Remind me to write a post on the relation between narcissism and art. Because there is a huge one. I should know after all.
I'm thanking you, and I'm talking about myself. Typical.
I'm in the process of filming my 30th vlog today! Not my 30th video, that was passed a few days ago, but my 30th vlog! Which is awesome! I never thought I would become a youtuber, and yet here I am. Posting videos on a daily basis, and loving the experience. I would love it way more if more people were watching, but I'll get there. Once I start doing more interesting things... But come on! Who doesn't want to watch the extremely boring exploits of a struggling author who isn't making money? That's entertainment gold right there.
Anyways, I should be writing... 

Writing a Memoir: Day ?

Ok. So, I am currently writing a memoir.
Which may be insane considering how low the views are on both my vlog and here on my blog. But I'm doing it anyways. Why? Because I am a damn good writer, and some parts of my life may help people with parts of their lives.
How? You ask condescendingly.
Because my life has been filled with a billion ups and downs and twists and turns, you ass. I've been mega religious, I've felt betrayed by the people I've trusted, I've lied to myself about my sexuality and gender, and I've come (in the process) to terms with who I am. No one is more qualified to write this story than I am, and no one wants it published more than I do.
Do you know what the benefits would be to have an asexual author publish their memoir would be? It would bring asexuality into the mainstream. It would educate the masses on its very existence! It would help those poor youth who think they're broken realize that there is nothing at all wrong with them, and my god I would look good on a book jacket. Have you seen some of my selfies? They're basically calling out for a book jacket to call home!
I'm only 4000 words into this thing, and I'm already getting emotional.
And I need to remember to post here. Because this is helpful. And brings in the views. And money? Anyone wanna give me money? No? Okay...  

This is Halloween, this is Halloween.

Everyone make a scene.
Ok. Got that out of the way.
I love Halloween, The dressing up, the wandering around the community, the sacrifices to Samhain. Just a good time all around. Good clean fun.
This year I'm going as Max from Mad Max. The classic films with Mel Gibson. That costume is just so awesome.
I hope you all have a wonderful and safe Halloween!