Ace Day

      Today, November 26th, is Ace Day. And it is a beautiful, wondrous day! I have loved every minute of it! Seeing all of the tweets, all of the selfies on instagram, and all of the posts on tumblr and facebook! It's been fantastic! Days like this are so important! For so many reasons! Let's list those reasons:

1. Asexuality is all but ignored by most forms of media
2. Young people are wandering around not knowing about it thinking they're broken
3. Asexual characters are treated as jokes who need to be fixed 
4. Asexuality in general is a joke to the many people who thought homosexuality was funny
5. Days like this allow aces to shine in all their magnificent glory
6. It allows people to connect with like individuals all over the globe
7. And mostly, because it gives people confidence to be themselves

People feel safe on days like this because they see countless others going out of their way to celebrate themselves! And it is absolutely beautiful.
       Days like this give people back their hope. Days like this give people strength to carry on. Days like this make people proud to be who they are. I love this community. I love the people in it. I love the things that the people in it have accomplished. And the thing I love most? How much everyone loves each other within it.
      I feel good whenever I talk to someone within the ace community. I feel a kinship and trust with everyone in it, even if I've never talked to them before. That's an incredible feeling. I've honestly never felt more apart of something than I do now. The feeling of inclusion I had within the church pales in comparison.
      I love who I am. I love what I am. And I never would've gotten to this point if it wasn't for this community.
      Gods above, I love you guys. Everyday. Not just today. You guys, each and every one of you, are my family. And I really do love you.
      Lets rock this thing. 

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

ugh

     Technology has conspired against me today. Namely the internet, but my phone joined in too but not staying charged. My WiFi has been absolutely terrible. It is currently 7-8 hours after my vlog is usually up, and its currently frozen at 50%. Nine hours to get to 50%! That's absolutely ridiculous! And because YouTube was eating up all my bandwidth, I haven't been able to get this done either!
      Ugh. I'm afraid today's blog is going to be super short mainly because I am mega irritated with technology. I had a post planned for today! But, that's going to be pushed back until tomorrow now... Hopefully everything goes according to plan tomorrow at least.
     That's it. This is today's blog. Enjoy. 

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... 

Incoherent Ramblings and a Short Story

        My post yesterday has been one of my more popular ones so far. That's pretty cool. But today I have a major headache, so don't expect anything too profound. Just a little bit of profoundity. That's totally a word, don't worry about looking it up. Trust me, I 'm a person who says things on the internet for... not a living? 

       I've noticed a huge difference in numbers compared to my vlog and my blog. Which is weird to me, because I promote my vlog way more than this. That being said, watch my vlog: youtube.com/user/shran100. I think it's pretty good every now and then. 

       As I said, I have a massive headache right now, and feel like crap. 

      Ok. Alright. Let's do this thing.

      I joined a couple groups and liked a couple pages on Facebook about asexuality, and I have started my own specifically for Canadian aces! You can find at: facebook.com/canadianaces! Go check it out and become a member! Lets create a thriving online community for Canadian Aces! And a safe one of course. 

     Apparently this post doesn't have a coherent theme, Or an incoherent one. 

     I'm trying to force myself to post daily on here, simply because it's a good writing exercise. I usually enjoy it, and I usually have something to say, but between my head pounding and pets I can't focus on anything at all. Maybe today will be a short post. Or!!! I can cheat today! Here's a short story entitled "Mondays":

Mondays, man, Mondays. I’d say that they’re the bitch of the week, but that’s not PC anymore. This whole politically correct thing has really toned down what I can call things. I don’t know…

            Monday! Mondays suck righteous balls. Now, I know everyone “hates” Mondays, and that a fat cat in the 70s made it cool to do so, but come on. Are Mondays really that bad?

            Yes. Unequivocally yes.

            “But James,” you say, “why are Mondays so bad? Wouldn’t any other day be just as bad?” Now, this is a really odd thing to say, especially since my name isn’t James. It’s Todd. How fricking hard is that? Is fricking PC? Can I say that? Oh well.

            But since you asked so politely, even though you called me James, I will answer the question with a story. Not a short concise answer, you guys are jerks so you get a story.

            It was seven years ago, on this very day—ok, ok, so it wasn’t exactly seven years ago, this is for dramatic effect ya knobs—that I, Todd Matheson esq., experienced the worst Monday in human history since the one where Joan of Arc decided to take a walk outside. Don’t ask, again it’s for dramatic effect. I, Todd Matheson esq., was at school.

            My school was a dreary place full of squares trying to be circles, if you catch my drift. There were the rich hippies on one side, and the poor snobs on the other. And the stoners. Every school ever has the stoners who just don’t give a single flying flip. And since the stoners don’t care, this is the last time I’m going to mention them. Heh, stoners. Wait. I wasn’t supposed to mention them again. I lied to you, and for that I am truly sorry.

            My school was mega lame, that’s what I’m getting at. And this particular Monday was even lamer than the all the others.

            This was the Monday that I died.

            Man that would be a terrible Monday. Obviously I’m not dead. But damn, that sounded hella cool.

            Anyways, this Monday started off as a normal, boring Monday. I got off the bus, breathed in the fresh, yet slightly toxic from decades of pollution, air, and promptly fell on my face. The juniors literally walked on me to get off the bus. To top it off, my crush, the babeilicious Jeannette, saw everything.

            I walked into the school, my appearance and soul sullied and humbled from my tumble. Rhymes are cool. Crestfallen, I, Todd Matheson esq., put my things into my locker and continued on with my day.

            I’m not going to bore you with the deets of my morning, ya’ll aren’t that big of jerks, so let’s skip ahead to lunch.

            Mexican Mondays, not to be confused with Taco Tuesdays and Taquito Thursdays, was a cafeteria favourite. There was a build your own fajita stand (wrap, lettuce, cheese, mystery meat, questionable salsa, and three week old peppers), and chili with rice. I made my favourite Monday meal, a fajita with cheese and chili, and headed to my table full of other like-minded denizens of the school. We were the nerds, alright. Just be cool. God. As I travelled through the perilous and fragrant hippie controlled lands, something dreadful happened. Truly dreadful. I was full of dread. Or the dirty hippie who tripped me was. Ha. Oh. I should explain. The guy had dreads. Which led me to making that dreadful pun. I’ll let myself out.

            I tripped over his foot like Paula Deen tripping over her mouth. I flew forward. But in a slightly downward trajectory. I landed face first on my chili fajita. Meat and beans flew out, splattering all near me. If anything, it improved their smell, and they should’ve thanked me. Instead they literally tossed me out the door.

            I spent the rest of the day, covered in dried chili. With every gulp of air, all I got was chili. Every breeze gently wafting past me held the dubious honour of smelling like chili.

            And then the literally worst thing to ever happen, happened. Like. This was an extinction level event. The babeilicious Jeanette came up to and told me that she felt bad for me. And then. Oh boy. Oooooh booooyy. And then she kissed me. Right on the old mouth hole. That sounds weird. She kissed me right on the lips. And as she pulled away, she gave me a little smile and said, “I’ve always liked chili.” She winked and walked away.

            My first kiss, and I was coated in beans.

            And this is why Mondays are the absolute worst of all time.

            What do you mean that’s a stupid reason?  

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.