Cognitions of a Brain Bag

Stay tuned to read more of my thoughts from my silly little brain bag.

Hello world! One of the things that has been getting me into neocities is that one saying that lots of people are discouraged by, "I was born too late to explore the planet, but too early to explore the cosmos." That may be true, but we were born in the right time to explore the internet, and I think the internet has a lot of beauty. While it is true that I loved the personality the internet had in the early 2000s, I think it is worth stating that there are still humans on the internet, and as long as there are people on the web, there is always potential for there to be personality. I mean, compare some regular pages on the internet to these neocities. Minimalism is in style, and while it is rather asthetic at times, it doesn't beat the pure raw asthetic of these neocities. I plan on posting more of my brain thoughts on this page, but I figured this would be a good startm with a basic hello, and a random thought.

It seems like every time I learn something new out there about what's going on in the world, it is always something bad. There's the stuff with Roblox sueing one of its users, Schlep, for trying to take down predators on its platform, there's YouTube integrating AI to verify your age for you to gate keep you from content if it thinks you're a minor (guess I can't watch Bluey anymore), and don't even get me started on Trump. It is very easy in these times to become cynical, to see the worst in humanity and assume that we are just cooked as a species. If my life experiences and education have taught me anything is that when bad things happen, people rise up and do good to spite the bad. There are firefighters to put out fires, there are politicians that push back against facism, and there is a whole community of people rising up against Roblox to speak truth to power.

When all we get our news from is, well, the news, we are stuck with the pessimistic twist, but we don't see the ways people stand up and rise to the occassion. And it's not like we are hopeless because we aren't the one's in power here. I don't think people realize how powerful it is to be a human; to exist and to be part of the people. It reminds me of the Stonewall Riots, which kicked off the modern LGBT rights movement. The world at that time was against them, and it only took one bar rising up to light a spark. Today, we have entire communities rising up. Even MAGA is starting to push back against the stuff with the Epstein files not being released. And while progress and change is slow, it does happen, we just have to give ourselves the chance to see it happen.

Given what I know about cognitive psychology, people often intuite their stances and then find reasons to back it up, rather than do the more logical thing like looking at all the reasons then coming to an answer. This is why we have equally smart people disagreeing about seemingly basic topics, and why confirmation bias is a thing. I think so many of us have intuited that we are cooked, but when we look back on human history, we see a clear pattern, and its that whenever bad things happen in our world, there is always someone fighting back against it, and if regimes have fallen before, and if reputations have been destroyed for protecting a brand over people and children, maybe it can happen again. The best hope is born of evidence.

I think Neocities solved my boredom. I recently graduated and I have no job, so I am at a point in my life where I have a lot of free time. Being ADHD this has lead to a lot of boredom, because I only enjoy being on break for so long. When I was younger, and we had summer break, I would get restless towards the end of the 2 month break. I would often learn a new skill in this time to keep my brain going. After my freshman year in highschool, I found myself writing an entire book. It was a leather and sawdust type of book, very rustic and vintage, and I filled it out as a reference book which I used throughout the rest of highschool. It had equations, important dates, anything you'd expect in a mysterious scientific journal. Another summer I learned how to read Hebrew so I could better arm myself when people used the Bible against me. This summer I am trying to learn HTML and CSS, an interesting task given that I am not very tech savvy, but here we are, and this site is coming together quite nicely. I can add "build a website" to the long list of things I have accomplished because I was too bored to function. Sometimes boredom can serve a helpful purpose.

For most of my life, I've been in school. It always kept me busy to the point that I would envy other people's free time. If another person was unemployed, I couldn't understand why they would be upset about it, because why should you when you have all that free time to yourself. Now I'm living the fantasy and it isn't all I have ever dreamed of. That isn't to say that life is all abd, it is just a perfect combination of conditions that makes boredom my baseline. Normally I'm in school, and if I'm not, then I'm working. But now I finished school, and I can't work yet. Because of this, I feel like I am just waking up each day asking myself what to do so I don't feel bored. That is one of the main drivers for why I made this website. It stemmed from my love of nostalgia mixed with my desire to do something completely new. To engage in a hobby that enraptured me. Now that I have filled out a lot of this website, I'm spending less and less time working on it. And since the hobby isn't always offering a relief to my boredom, I have found myself seeking out friend's company more than I normally would. That's all well and good except for when those friends are also busy with work and responsibilities. As such, it feels like I am left alone with myself during the day while everyone works, and at night when everyone else goes to sleep. There is maybe a couple of hours where my friends are available and it hurts on the days when I can't connect with them. I'm writing about this not just because it is good to get those feelings out and normalize the experience of loneliness on the internet, but also because I know I'm not the only one going through this. Life has gotten painfully lonely for many since the advent of the internet, Covid, and general life changes. I don't want to harp on that grand narrative that we are more disconnected as a species now than ever, but I do wanna shine light on the pain of loneliness and just get the words out there. I know I am mostly writing to a screen right now, moreso than an embodied soul, but when you live life in the closet for enough years, and learn to live off of very little attention and compassion, even talking to a screen can feel comforting at times. Maybe one day I'll write about my story, the things I survived, and the things I have gone through. But today, I just wanted to write about this pain, and it feels better having gotten it out. I hope moving forward that I can have more space to connect with people throughout my day, and not just anyone, but people that can actually see my authentic self, but I also hope that I can find long term solutions to the boredom I face so that I can at least thrive and take in all this freetime with joy while I am still unemployed, because once I get a job I will be very busy. Might as well use this freetime while I still have it.

I'm gay, and I have been gay for as long as I can remember. Something about getting to write out those words here is such a relief, and I think it is because I know the value of being able to utter or write those words anywhere, because I have known the pain of not being able to express them...To put a long story short, I came out to my parents 7 or so years ago when I was still in highschool, and their reaction was less than ideal. In college I was really able to explore who I was outside of what my parents had to say. I got to try things like makeup, going to queer spaces and making friends in the community. This freedom to explore onesself and it being good and normal is something that I miss dearly. After graduating college, circumstance has me living back at home with my family. While the topic of my sexuality doesn't come up, and hasn't since I came out, I still feel the oppressive atmosphere.

People often times talk about the type of homophobia that is overt, and has people adding something unpleasant to the mix, like calling you slurs or abusing you for not "behaving", but my experience has been a lack of the positive. When you refuse to acknowledge your child's queer identity, it hurts, and it communicates "I can't be myself" and "I have to hide this from you in order to be enough." I have learned through years of therapy that I cannot get everyone to understand me, and that holding out hope for certain people to change is more exhausting that helpful, especially when they have already made up their mind about me. But therapy has also taught me that I can give myself that which I seek from my parents.

I've had overtly homophobic roomates before that have called me slurs, and in highschool I remember living under the threat of getting kicked out by the leaders of my school if I ever came out (which put tremendous stress on my younger self, as you could imagine). I've lived through so much homophobia and pain, but the worst of it I have ever experienced is my parents lack of capacity to fully see and embrace me. It is like I am hearing them say "we can't see the real you because it is too disturbing for us, and we need you to be something else." To add insult to injury, they often couldn't hear my own voice because there was a Bible always lodged between my voice and their ears, effectively blocking mine out. This kind of religious trauma runs deep because how could I ever compete with "the word of God" when I'm communicating about my experience, which in their eyes is nothing compared to scripture.

I write about this not because I simply wanted to trauma dump, but because I was free to express and explore anywhich way I pleased for the last 6 years, and now I am settling back into the reality that I have to hide again. I know most would say that I shouldn't hide, that I should stand my ground with confidence and pride, but whenever I had...it just resulted in me getting yelled at, put down, punished with religion, and degraded as a human in more ways than I care to mention. But I don't like writing posts like these, because I don't like portraying the story as entirely dark and grimy, but I also don't want to crucify my own pain by covering it up with a silver lining.

I think all of this is undeserved, but I also think it is something I can learn to live with. I've been practicing living in this space of emotional neglect by listening to my inner voice and focusing on it more than I focus on that of my parents. This means that when I hear religious jargon that either demeans the importance of queer people or any other minority, instead of focusing on trying to fix them or get them to understand, I shift to the inner voice, that hurting child in me, and I ask it to tell me what it wants me to know. My parents could never hear this voice, but I can. This part needs attention and care, as any child does after they come home from school, having been bullied that day. I sit with it, I don't try to tell it to see things differently, nor do I tell it to be any different. I create space for that part to exist and be seen and known. And when I practice this, I do feel a weight lifted off, because after all, our parents aren't gods who know it all; they are flawed humans with biases, inner ugliness, and a propensity towards mistakes. And when I can rely less on their words, treat them less like people that I need admiration from, and shift towards attending to my inner hurt, the pain gets a little better. So yeah, I do still live in a hostile environment that is painfully suffocating, and at the same time, I know how to hold my breath, and even how to breathe when I am being suffocated by the atmosphere of religious intolerance.

I think my hope in all of this lies in that this pain sucks, and there's no getting around that, but this pain is also not the whole story, and there are spaces where I can be myself and where I can be seen, and I am actively working on making one of those safe spaces within myself so that I can carry it with me wherever I go. That is the hope for myself, and to anyone out there suffering a similar circumstance. My heart goes out to you, and I hope, for humanity's sake, that you keep going, because the world would never be as beautiful as it is if it didn't have you in it.

Lately I have been processing how to express my special interests without exhausting the energy of those around me. For context, I'm ADHD, specifically the inattentive/hyperactive type, meaning I get the best of both worlds, and can be completely turned off when something isn't stimulating for me (inattention), and that I also try to find ways to stimulate my mind in those understimulating spaces (hyperactive). Because of this, my baseline is often that I am bored and find many things in life to be monotanous and bland, which can make me come across as lazy and uninspired on my worst days. But beneath all of that is a brain that is trying to function in a world that is often not stimulating enough, and while some may be foolish to assert that we just ought to cope with the lack of stimulation, every brain needs stimulation, with some studies suggesting that our brainmatter degrades and falls apart when not given ample stimulation and meaningful activities.

This takes me to the concept of special interests. Special interests (also called hyperfixations) are things that ADHDer's and people on the autism spectrum find especially interesting, to the point that in more extreme contexts, the individual doesn't like engaging in activities unless their special interest is somehow included. Think about the overplayed stereotype of the autistic person who likes trains. They don't talk about much other than trains, and that is because trains are their special interest. In my case, I have a handful of hyperfixations, and this is one of the ways my brain seeks out stimulation, but also connection.

Connection over hyperfixations is nothing original on my part, most people connect over shared experiences and interests (after all, it is what you are often prompted to put on your dating profile when you make one). For an ADHDer, it can often be taken to its extreme where if you called me and wanted me to talk about what was going on in my life, since I am currently unemployed and out of school, I would default to talking about the new Superman movie, or the original Star Trek series. Thinking from the average person's experience, regardless of if the individual is neurodivergent or not, it can be exhausting listening to someone like me go on for seemingly hours about the exact same topic that doesn't always appeal to other people.

Some people come home from a long day exhausted and don't have the energy to hear me talk about how much I loved James Gunn's Superman movie, nor does everyone care about the tiny features I add to my neocity on a daily basis. It's tricky because I found that I can exhaust other people's energy with my hyperfixations to the point that I ask myself if I'm doing something wrong or if it makes me a bad person. Doesn't this all mean that there's something wrong with me?

It is still a lesson I am trying to learn, but I think ADHDers like myself need to learn to sit in the nuance that our brains aren't broken and do not need fixing, and at times it is also true that our quirks can overwhelm people. Both of these are true at the same time, and because of this, we need to learn how to talk about ADHD people in a way that reflects that they don't need to change, and that sometimes we need more outlets to express ourselves. That's why I am here on neocities. I cannot tell you how many times my interests in Superman and Star Trek have exhausted the energy of good and lovely people that actually care deeply about my most authentic self, and the struggle those people have had at mentioning that my hyperfixations can sap their energy. I think these people are trying to be kind and nice to me, but it also could be balanced out by them showing the same kindness for themselves too, even if it means I have to redirect my special interest energy to a different space for a time.

So where does this leave us. I think the urge to share and express a special interest in neurodivergent people is a need that deserves to be met, but that there are nuanced ways to get that need met. I think often times if others are getting exhausted or turned off by us sharing our interests, it can be for a variety of reasons, but many of those reasons goes back to what it says about the other person, and that it does not mean there is something wrong or broken about us, despite that being the more dominant narrative. Maybe the other person has a lot going on and struggles to hold space for it. Maybe the other person isn't interested in the same things we are. And maybe all of that is okay and that there are spaces and places we can let our fixations thrive and be expressed. I think it is also true that under the terms and conditions in being friends with neurodivergent persons, we also sign up for each of our quirks as well and that we need to make space for those quirks too.

Maybe at the end of the day we have to find our own way to engage in our interests in ways that can pull people towards us so they can interact with something important to us, while also practicing the capacity to pause when we see the figurative yellow traffic light flashing. That metaphor explains why I still struggle with that balance of sharing the hyperfixation vs knowing when to redirect that energy elsewhere, because whenever I have seen a yellow light, I can almost feel the neurons in my brain snap in half as I struggle to calculate if I should stop or speed through the light. In either case, practice makes better, and I am hoping I can do both by giving myself some grace and letting my special interests out as often as I need, while practicing reading the room and directing my energy to spaces that can receive my passion.

I became curious of this question as I was sitting in church against my will this morning. As humans, we like to think that we base all our beliefs on evidence, and that we have reasons for why we believe what we do. As a skeptic and agnostic myself, it puts doubt on beliefs that often times do not have evidence that is as easy to interpret as a proposed solution for an equation. Some beliefs out there I cannot find direct scientific evidence for; the belief in God, the belief that the universe has a plan and that everything happens for a reason, that death isn't the end. The more fantastical and stigmatized ones too like horoscopes, certain alternative medicines, the existence of ghosts and the earth being flat. I haven't been able to buy into some of these ideas, but there are ideas I cannot prove that I do believe on a subconscious level, even if my conscious brain doesn't adhere to the ideas logically.

I believe deep down, a part of me believes in multiversal theory, even though I have no evidence of it. I believe (in a nuanced way) that there is good and evil in the world, even though you cannot measure either or definitively quantify them.

My deepest core beliefs are also founded on intuitions that I can't prove beyond the shadow of a doubt; that humans are inately good, that the more diversity and differences we allow in humanity, the better off the universe will be. I cannot always prove these things, but I often have my reasons. What is fascinating is that cognitive psychologists note that people don't look at the reasons and form a conclusion, humans intuite a conclusion and then find the reasons for why they are right. We call this "confirmation bias."

Given all of this, since many beliefs out there fall outside of the scope of scientific inquiry, why not adopt the adaptive beliefs and drop the bad ones? I think any belief, when molded correctly, can be adaptive, and for me this has meant dropping a belief in God. For some, holding that there is a God is nourishing to them and can motivate them to be better people. For others, such a belief can create a superiority complex and give credence to the idea that other's need to conform to their beliefs, whatever the cost. For athiests, the belief that there is no God can be freeing, giving people the space to live freely and make new meanings for reality on their own terms in ways that can benefit the world. At its worst, athiests can look down on Christians as superstitious and perpetuate hate and biases against them, something I am often guilty of and trying to work on.

I think all of this leads to my primary point: that maybe there is no right or wrong stance on "unprovable beliefs", but that instead there are healthy and unhealthy adaptations of each. I've seen churches spread mental illness from generation to generation through fear and domineering tactics, but I have also seen churches build hospitals where others otherwise wouldn't. I think it matters less and less what a person believes about gods and ghosts, but what matters more is how those beliefs shape them and turn them into better versions of themselves, because the old christian argument carries weight that it does take faith to believe in an invisible God, but it also takes faith to not believe in one either. We intuite our beliefs, and that is our nature. Our nature is also to make meaning of the evidence we see, and maybe we can intuite different interpretations of reality, but consciously shift our tones to be more inclusive and caring about one another. Maybe at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what a person believes, but whether or not that belief makes them into a better version of themselves.

I was browsing the web looking for something cool to add to my neocity page of "cool websites" when I found "Pool Suite" which is basically an internet radio app that plays chill, retro, summer-type-vibes music. It's got me thinking about what I used to do before I moved back in with family. I remember I would go out on long rides with my boyfriend at night, driving the dark and crowded roads to get to the club our friends from around town were going to and we would just cozy up at a table and chill together. It was nice. I remember not liking going to clubs frequently, because my ears could only take so much music, and my joints so much dancing, but its something I am now nostalgic for.

I went on many adventures with my boyfriend, many that live vividly in my memory. I remember a lot of details from these episodes as if they happened in the 1980's, with how we dressed, and how I remember everyone else, but these memories were firmly grounded in the last year and a half. I remember a pool party we went to with like-minded furries and I remember hearing similar beats to the ones I am listening to right now. It was so nice because I would get to meet other queer folks just like me and feel a sense of connection with the outside world. Maybe I'll write about it more in another post, but sometimes I think that my subconscious has responded to a lot of life's trauma by ascribing at least partially to solipsism, and feeling deeply as if I am the only thing left alive in the cosmos after the trauma, though this is something I disagree with on a more conscious level. These parties would challenge this trauma-narrative and give me a space to feel connected to the world around me, rather than separate. But I digress.

When I was younger, and more ignorant, I used to judge people for their party lifestyle. I figured it was all the result of an addiction to pleasure or caving in to peer pressure. Having lived the other side, I understand it in a much more compassionate light. Life is dark, and a true understanding of reality means a firm grasp on how much life can suck. Not everything in the world is profound and full of meaning. Sometimes life is permeated with pain, monotomy, or a lack of personality. This can crush the soul, and sometimes one thing that can revive one's spirits (in the short term) is having these types of parties. When taken outside of the context of addiction (since parties can attract people with such struggles), I think the philosophy of a party is to simply stick it to life's face sometimes. "Yea, I know you suck a lot sometimes, but let me show you that I dare defy you and smile among all the hum drum." That's what my boyfriend was during those nights for me. He was a reminder that life is an adventure, even inbetween episodes of boredom, stress, and the death of personality in our world.

I cannot turn back the clock and go back to those alcohol filled parties, nor can I go outside of my home and find a similar setting to skinnydip at, but what I can do is lean into the music I am listening to right now and carry that defiant spirit with me in each step. "I got a thousand problems I don't care to list right now, and though I haven't found a solution to even one, I choose to dance as if I hadn't a single problem at all."

Spoilers for the Batman Arkham games ahead. So I was playing through Arkham Knight again when I reached the point regarding Jason Todd's story, and for those who don't know, he is Batman's 2nd Robin, who goes out in hunt of the Joker on his own, gets captured, and is then tortured for 2 years straight. It's a gruesome tale, because he's wrapped in barbwire, beaten with a crowbar, branded, and too much more to mention. This happened day in and day out for a two years, and he held on to the hope that Batman would come and save him, but he never did, because Batman thought he was killed. The torturing only stopped when Jason broke himself out of Arkham Asylum where he was being hidden and tortured.

I bring this up because it reminds me a lot about myself. I wasn't strapped up and physically tortured for 2 years, but I have experienced emotional abuse and discrimination, which according to research, can be just as damaging as physical abuse. When you see darkness like that, it does lead to magical thinking at first. "Maybe God will help them see the error in their ways and they'll stop hurting me." That's what I would tell myself, but my Batman never came to save the day; I had to save myself. Of course I had help along the way, which was extremely messy and anything but easy, but I had to do the heavy lifting if I wanted to have a better life. This is an all too common and unfortunate reality that as children, we hope that the good and honest people in our lives will come to help us, and often times, we have to help ourselves. What's even more unfair is that it is the survivors that have to do the hard work of healing because of someone else's irresponsible life choices that hurt us deeply. Someone hurts us, and then we have to work to climb out of the pit. This isn't to say that there is no hope left for us; Jason Todd looked into the darkness and came out a vengeful person bent on hurting everyone responsible, but not everyone stays vengeful

I've touched on the abuse I have endured on my Aug 21st post this year, as well as on my gay pride page, but it's only part of the story. The important piece is that for a time I was that vengeful person, and that anger was intense and real. The only problem was that as long as I held that anger and hatered, the more I couldn't sit in my own presence. It is like being physically alone in your room, but then inviting in your abusers to fill up your mental space. The space deserves to be filled with something else after all that pain.

But tonight wasn't the first time I encountered Jason Todd's story, but it is the first time I felt my insides wince as I recalled it, because I could resonate with him more deeply, and understand that vengeful attitude. After grounding myself afterwards and snacking, I found myself asking the question "how do I maximize the most good for humanity?" I think this question stems from the knowledge that I will die one day, and since my life is so finite, I want to actually make an impact while I'm still here. It's that existential dread that life is so short, and we have so little time to actually make meaningful change in our world.

Seeing a comic book character in a video game suffer horrible torture made me remember that this is someone else's story out there, and I felt that inner pull to "be a hero for someone else", but unfortunately, life doesn't create much space for us to intentionally be someone else's hero. Either we develop a savior complex and feel the need to help everyone (which can lead to mental health issues), or we end up trying to help people who don't need our help, or haven't asked for it. It's why they train people in helping fields at times to show up and do your job but don't come at it with a "I'm gonna save you" type of mentality.

So yea, people suffer horrible fates, and some look into the darkness and come out vengeful and even stay that way, when not given the care and compassion they need. Others (like myself), experience the inhumanity, feel vengeful and hateful for a time, and then integrate it in an adaptive way. We may understand other's suffering more because we have suffered ourselves, and we can use this understanding to mobilize us to do something about the pain and injustices people other than ourselves face. It's why a white guy like me can care about systemic racism, because while I haven't experienced racial injustice, I have experienced homophobia, and if I know one the effects of discrimination from personal experience, it motivates me to at least desire to be a part of the solution for other forms of discrimination, even if I don't understand it from firsthand experience. This isn't done by becoming Superpeople, but by leaning into our strengths that intersect with the world's needs. I try to do this with my career (with varying results and plenty of mistakes), but there are many problems in the world I am not equipped to fix and am thus a lot less helpful with. If the research says one thing about helping others, it is often that helping others helps ourselves to a degree too.

So when I remember Jason Todd as a character, I think of that hurt person I used to be many years back. I see that part of me alive each day as they come up in my thoughts when life becomes too triggering for them. In those moments I try and be there for them, to be my own hero first, rather than try to be a hero for others while I'm still healing. I mean, at my Kindergarten graduation, I told the world I wanted to be Superman when I grew up...but I'm no kryptonian with superpowers, but I am someone who has, as Batman said in the animated "Crisis on two earths" film, "looked into the darkness, but did not blink." This isn't my hero origin story either. I'm just trying to make sense of the pain and do something with it.

To anyone who has suffered more than anyone deserves in a lifetime, my heart goes out to you, and my hope is that you can give yourself the space to give yourself the compassion you deserved right from the very beginning, and the next time you see another person suffer, let yourself feel for them and see yourself in their pain.

A final note, because this post is getting long, I have added a link to my "Cool Websites" page that is essentially a search engine for volunteering spots to mobilize our compassion into actual action that can make the world a better place. The website is called Volunteermatch. Suffering can break us down, but if we know how to notice it and tend to it, it can be our inspiration to help those around us that suffer as well.

I am a 2000's kid, and there are so many things I am nostalgic for; things that were popular that are now associated more with the past and a different era of time. Old Roblox (back when the symbol was an R instead of an O), Club Penguin (before Disney ruined it with microtransactions), pillow pets, neon rubberbands shaped like animals, and so much more. It makes me think about the importance of music in its ability to transport a person to a different time and place. You are literally hearing the past through a culturally moulded framework; music.

For me, the song that reminds me of the 2010's is Avicii's "Levels", a song that defined a genre of music and was on all the radios at the time. When I listen to it, the melody itself comes with a bright view of the future, a view that we are existing in the future and that the future is bright, safe, and warm. There's a similar "joy" I sense in a lot of 2000's music, from the Jonas Brothers "Year 3000" to Usher's "DJ's Got Us Fallin' In Love." There's a level of hope those more nostalgic songs give me that modern music just hasn't. This isn't to say that modern music is bad, but that music evolves, and that I might be projecting a meaning onto this music that the artists didn't intend.

Regardless, I think nostalgia is something important to hold on to (to a certain degree). From the books I have read touching on the topic, some group "nostalgia" as an emotion in the "unpleasant" quadrant, and others in a more pleasant light. I think language fails us here because nostalgia itself can be a pleasant or an unpleasant experience, depending on the context. For me, looking out at the world right now, I am a lot more aware of the pain, suffering, turmoil, political unrest, and discrimination that exists, and it can sap hope in a second. When I envelop myself in nostalgia, it almost feels like a protective mechanism, taking me back to a time when I was ignorant of the depth of the world's problems. Before I realized that the social ills of my world wont be resolved in my lifetime, and that I will die not knowing the end of the story. I will live to see change, since that is the only constant in life, but I won't live to know if climate change gets solved, or if LGBT generations in the future will be safe and treated with equity.

Now when I listen to these nostalgic kinds of songs, I remember that the world has the capacity for brightness. We know darkness when we know (even faintly) what light is, and we can make an effort to be hope for someone else, because hope isn't just an experienced feeling, but also a practice.

So while it is true that my generation struggles with hope, (with all the school shootings, the pandemic, climate change, systemic racism and abuse)...it is also true that hope can be built from the ground up when life doesn't hand it to us. And when we want to give hope to others, we must first be hope before we can give it.

I say all this because I've struggled with hope a lot the past few years. Being on the receiving end of homophobia shaped me to distrust that people that know God somehow know a greater level of kindness than the average person, because how is it that those that know God are those responsible for breaking my self-esteem and human dignity? What about the nearly 2 years I spent locked at home during the pandemic with only a handful of escapes, or that time I was on the phone with a friend while a school shooter shot a few students on their campus. It is absurd the amount of pain and violence in our world that having hope almost feels like an act of resistance, and if being queer has taught me anything, it is sometimes a joy to stick it to life's face and resist a lil. Even as I hit Ctrl-F and search "Hope" on this blog, I find it is the most written topic across all my writings here. I cannot believe that the pain we see on the news and out in our communities is what we are, and that that is the end of the story. I have to hold on to the idea that we are better than this, and that we can achieve so much more. Maybe I am just in the middle of the plot that leads to humans shaping up in the end. After all, I see that basic goodness in myself during those hard times, so who's to say that goodness isn't in everyone around me to even some degree?

All of the turmoil of the last few years has made me question the fundamental fabric of reality; whether hope is engrained in it or built from scratch, or if we are good at our core. Is our world improving? Are we headed for destruction and ruin? I don't have all the answers, but what I do know is that life is not about the answers, but the pursuit of them, and we might as well explore these questions with a willingness to embrace the good when it comes, and acknowledge the unpleasant when it is near, and maybe, just maybe, we can construct hope for ourselves from the evidence we find all around us.

Is it just me or is sleep the hardest thing sometimes. With no outside help, I fall asleep around 4-6am (but I usually force myself to bed around 4), and I wakeup naturally at 2-3pm. That doesn't make me very happy, so I end up using melatonin a few hours before bed, but whenever I go to sleep early, I wake up early. It sucks! Imagine going to bed at 9pm and waking up unable to sleep at 11pm. Absolutely bonkers.

I really started falling into being a nightowl around highschool, and it's resisted treatment, medication, and other interventions since. I suspect it's Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome, but I digress. One thing I don't hear a lot about is how lonely it can be being a nightowl. When all of your loved ones go to sleep, you are what remains. I can walk for miles outside and go from neighborhood to neighborhood without seeing another human being. Sometimes I sit with this well, because I am not always lonely when I am alone, but I can only take so much of it.

There's a Great Horned Owl that is nesting outside my house. I used to hear it singing and duetting with their partner every night, but I think they moved. I could have sworn I heard one of them last night. But that is just one example of the wonders of staying up late. You are the only one in the cosmos when you walk down the streets. It is just you and the stars, and the occasional owl.

I write about this because I have been sleeping poorly lately. I go to sleep early, and I rise early. If not that, then I go to sleep late and wake up late. I can't seem to get the sweet spot of 8 hours, even with alarms and coffee, which has proven more helpful than any other intervention I've tried in the past. I felt the need to make a post where I wrote about a problem without sounding like I was above it because I noticed in my previous posts I wrote about things in ways that made me worry I might sound like I am above some of life's pains. I'm not; I'm in it too. Sometimes I just want to acknowledge life's problems on this blog, but not let pain and despair be the final say. I've battled with my sleep for almost a decade and I haven't seen a lick of progress, probably because it is something I have to learn to live with, rather than change or get rid of. Maybe there are some struggles life gives us that we aren't supposed to break free from, but join hands with.

I've heard it said before by many LGBTQ people "why should my sexual orientation matter to you" when people online would ask what their sexual orientation was. At first, I was stunned by this reaction (more on why later), but nowadays I understand it comes from a place of privacy and self-preservation at times. Why would I show a part of myself that is so clearly attacked by the person asking it? Except, not everyone out there that is curious about one's sexual orientation is out to get them.

I, as a gay person, often wonder what's up with another person and if they are queer as well, mostly because it is one of the easiest ways to tell if I am safe around the other person. More than that, it also means I am not the only one in the room. I remember in grad school, one of my classmates talked about her experience of being used to being the only black person in the classroom because it is all too common for her to not see her demographic represented in the spaces she goes to school in. While I don't personally experience that as it pertains to my skin color, I do experience it as it pertains to my sexuality. It is so isolating feeling like the only gay person in the room, especially because it feels like I have to represent the entire community, and represent it well. It also means I am not represented by my peers, and I have to stand up for myself and my experience since I am the only one in the room that could be considered a "primary source" on queer experiences.

So I often wonder what another person's sexuality is, because if they too are gay, lesbian, or bi, then chances are, I won't be bullied by them for being queer too. If I can't tell their sexuality as such, then I can settle for a straight cis ally. I hear so often that labels don't matter and that we shouldn't get caught up on the identity of another person, which while a valid in some respects, it also entails that I can't be curious if the people around me share the same experiences and pains that I have.

Don't get me wrong, I have met many queer people that have been cruel towards me, but it's just a whole different level of cruelty to have a straight person listen to my experience and then end the conversation with offering their dissaproval or challenging me on my identity.

One question I find myself sitting with often is "would [insert historical person here] have liked me?" It is a strange question, but it's one I ask when I have experienced that people can instantly change their opinion on me when they find out one of my many labels. It sucks...being judged like that. You can be accomplished, resilient, compassionate, and all these good things, but they learn you're gay and they suddenly don't feel like associating with you anymore. But how could I not want to know if someone I respect would respect me too, even though I won't ever meet them?

"I really respect what this person did with their life, and I could see myself having connected with them over this shared thing, but would they actually stick around if they knew the entire me?" Unfortunately, the answer gets more and more complicated the further back in time this hypothetical person existed...since it only feels like recently that we've been making homophobia taboo. Maybe the journey is about me letting go of whether or not other's will like me for all that I am, and instead ask myself how I feel about other people. Maybe it is my job to give those feelings attention...because if I don't...who will?

It has been a long time since I have made a post here. I think part of it is that I didn't have anything to say, and another part was that there was so much bad happening on the news that I didn't have anything positive to say. I remember one of my artist friends saying that when it comes to drawing, for her it doesn't matter if the thing is good, what matters is that the thing exists. Maybe the same is true for writing as well (as long as the writing isn't hateful or anything).

I'm thinking a lot about the types of discrimination I have endured. I've become so accustomed to homophobia and abelism that it just seems normal, like most people out there would agree with such hateful messaging. I know there are people out there that are supportive but it is so easy to forget when you are forced to go to a church that has crowds agreeing with such painful messaging.

Growing up, I heard lots of comments about how lazy I was for not doing tasks and homework the same way other kids did, and this kind of cruel talk has been a throughline all through the years to the point that I think my family believes it is okay to say such things to me. It's "he is choosing to sleep in and ignore us", not "I wonder if there is anything we can do to support him today since he seems to have less energy." It's "there is something metally...off about gay people to think that cross dressing and wearing nail polish is okay", not "this makes me uncomfortable, but as a responsible adult I should deal with my anxieties about queerness and not make it someone else's responsibility."

Experiencing such discrimination is draining, and over years of hearing it over and over can make a person experience pure anxiety just being in the room with you. "When are they going to cross my boundaries next? How are they going to hurt me this time?" I think if it were someone else dealing with this, I'd try to come up with solutions like "set boundaries" or "try moving out" etc...but people already will do everything they can to fix a problem on their own when the barriers are removed. I think I just want to be heard...but like really heard. I think if I was actually heard, people would not have voted for an immature toddler that hurts people like me. I think if I was actually heard, people would flock around me to ask if I'm okay or if I needed a hug...because living around so much oppression in the home and seeing it validated on a presidential level is just retraumatizing. But much more than that...it feels personal.

I know social change is a battle that goes on for infinity, and I will never live to see the day that this war is finished, but I am hoping I can live to see a day (hopefully soon) where kids are given supports in school for being neurodivergent, and that those differences are acknowledged, even celebrated, rather than viewed as a "you-problem." I want to live to see the day where I not only can feel entirely safe walking down the street holding my boyfriend's hand, but also the day where I don't have to hear stories about a man bringing his male partner home and his family being cruel or mean because they didn't like the gender of the partner. I want to be a part of that future, which is why I haven't ended my life those many years ago when it was worse, because I can make that future and I can be a part of it with others. More than that, I want to live to see the day that I have a family that actually cares about me; not just the version of me when I am filtering out all my queerness and diversity; the real me that likes cuddles, maybe an edible or two, and would dare read books about buddhism occassionally.

So for the longest time I used ChatGPT. I didn't quite like my usage of it because I know how much water it uses and how it's bad for the planet. Then headlines started coming out about AI psychosis, and the real kicker for me was when ChatGPT convinced a minor to complete suicide. I can't support a product like that, especially when it is profiting in the background. The problem with making change is that you gotta find replacement behaviors. I can't ditch ChatGPT without finding something to fill in the void. Enter Reddit.

So, I mostly used ChatGPT to help me process mental health things while also giving it explicit instructions to not be sycophantic, and to communicate in ways that are verifiable with research. I also used it to look up very long and specific questions that I didn't feel like Googling. Already a recipe for disaster because GPT will recommend answers from anywhere on the internet, including places flooded with bias. Then I tried on Reddit and now I can't look back.

I know many might judge me for using ChatGPT (or Reddit TBH) but I had no supports to get through what I was dealing with, and I needed an expert. I was working with what I could find. With Reddit though, it has been so nice! I can find communities that resonate directly with my spiritual abuse I am enduring, and they can offer very specific advice. I can also ask questions about how to continue the IFS work I started with my therapist when I was still in school and get pointers from people that know what they are talking about, and know what I am talking about. It is such a good feeling because I am finding people that resonate with my story and have advice and insights that help me. I can also engage on other forums that I have expertise in too and have been enjoying it as well.

I write about this because it has been something I think I have been looking for for a long time. When I was still a Christian, I was looking for a church to call home. After leaving the faith, I was looking for a Sangha, and after that I was looking for a family or a community. While I don't think Reddit will solve the problem, I do think it is a step in the right direction because I am engaging in a forum about deconstructing one's faith and I find it very relatable, and all the people there are nice. I remember some ExMormons and ExJehovah's-witnesses stating they viewed ExAdventists (like myself) people they look out for. It created a sense of community that while we come from different traditions, we share a common story and pain, and can show up for one another supportively.

I'm sure many years down the line this post will have aged somehow. Maybe I'll have had bad experiences on Reddit, or outgrown it entirely. I mean so far everyone on there has been nice (except for DCcomics forums, people are opinionated there), but there's room for things to change. I wanted to post about this though because it is a nice change of pace to give some good news and how I have felt a little more connected, and have a little more purpose during all this unemployment.

So I know it has been a few months since James Gunn rebooted the DCU with his new Superman film, a film I have seen up five times and plan for watching again for a sixth. Superman, as a character, has always captured my imagination, as it has for many other people like me too. I grew up on him, and his stories, and I got to wondering about why Superman works as a character and became as popular as he is.

To answer this question, we gotta go back to the 1930's and meet two teenage boys, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the writer and artist for Superman respectively. During this time, comic books weren't a popular medium yet, and comics were usually a strip long, and existed in weekly newspapers. These characters were usually characatures or fantastical in nature, but not in the same way that we might recognize in the modern super hero. When Siegel and Shuster came up for the character of Superman, it stemmed from a very personal place for them.

It is the great depression in the United States, and Siegel and Shuster were both victims of this. They cited that they had to sell milk bottles just to be able to afford going to the movie theaters, and that they did not have much money to afford much. As such, the subject matter of their superhero would represent the hero they wished for. Superman is told to be a champion of the oppressed in his first comics, those oppressed by the depression, which meant that Superman often stood up against social matters. Within Superman's first few comics, he tackles spousal abuse, drunk driving, gambling, and people aiming for financial gain at the cost of poor and defenseless people. This was before Superman stood up to alien invaders and multiverse shattering foes. This Superman was one who frequently encountered people attempting suicide due to the pain and toil of their financial struggles.

Superman still carries this legacy of social justice, as he is currently a stand in for the immigrant experience, with him being a symbol of the ultimate immigrant (from outerspace) being constantly dehumanized by a rich billionaire (Lex Luthor). But as such, Superman is a deeply personal character for those that write about him. Siegel and Shuster cited several times that they based Clark Kent's bumbling baffoonery on their own social incompitence, as they often felt anxious and unable to socialize in a variety of settings. They were poor and wrote about problems they were passionate about, and wrote stories that gave them hope that they enjoyed, and all of this lead to creating not just the world's most recognizable superhero, but creating a new genre of literature: The Modern Superhero Story.

So I recently watched "Monster: The Ed Gein Story" and I have some thoughts. I won't be going into the specifics of what that guy did, but basically, murder and grave robbing. Whenever Netflix releases a series on Serial Killers and related criminals, outrage tends to spark on the internet, and I notice that people tend to get polarized about it and I felt like putting my thoughts out there.

A lot of people fall into one of two camps (generally speaking). There are those that state that a serial killer is deserving of zero empathy, and then there are those that are on the side of the killers, viewing them as victims of the systems they are a part of. What sucks about this is that when you go to either extreme, you end up sounding like a hybristophiliac (someone attracted to persons who have committed outrageous criminal acts, like mass murder) and simping after someone because they did heinous crimes, or you can get lost in the anger towards the killer that you end up disregarding any semblance of empathy for them to the point of dehumanizing them. What I am NOT advocating for is to sympathize with killers to the point of approving their actions or even liking them. No, I am condoning balancing empathy with consequences in a way that follows the middle between these two extremes.

At the risk of sounding like a centrist, I think this is where we can practice some of that "middle way" that Dialectical Behavioral Therapists (and Buddhists) so often talk about, which is avoiding both extremes. In these retellings of mass murderers, there is so much emphasis on humanizing the killers themselves, which unfortunately feeds audience members that idolize these killers. Not only this, but humanizing a serial killer also tends to be at the expense of sacrificing compassion that should be given to those who have been hit with the brunt of trauma, the victims themselves. There has to be a balance between creating space for understanding without condoning criminal behavior or idolizing it at the expense of the survivors.

Why am I talking about this and why should you care? I bring this up because there are so many reasons and explanations people have for why feeling compassion for others is not justified in certain cases, and I think it is worth discussing if compassion should be given to everyone, what that looks like, and what the exceptions are, if any. Serial killers are a good litmus test of this for certain people. But I think we can recognize that a serial killer is of the same species as you and I. We come from the same sauce. This truth can be held at the same time as holding another truth without diminishing it: that they should be held responsible for their actions.

I think people forget that compassion can exist alongside consequences. That's what I am talking about. Not allowing ourselves to stoop to their level by dehumanizing them because they dehumanized others first, and also not falling into holding affection for them because they are "just that notorious." To these people I would urge you to remember that these killers actually existed, and they actually did real damage to real families that cannot be repaired. I don't know the pain of losing a loved one to a violent crime. That is a trauma few can understand directly, and thus these people deserve as much empathy and compassion as they can get, because they are going through one of the hardest things any human can go through: traumatic grief.

I ask myself though, "why is this something I feel strongly about, that we hold people accountable at the same time as we recognize their humanity?" I think it strikes a chord with me because of my experiences as a gay man, having been "righteously dehumanized" by the church, politicians...family members. People will always come up with so many reasons for why you deserve to be treated as less than human. But when you do that, you just further break a person, even if you are coming from a pure intention. And while yes, I am comparing two separate conversations of diversity tolerance with how we respond to violent crime, you forget that a few decades back, being gay was treated as though it were a violent crime...and I guess if I am allowing myself to be completely honest, I get a little dysregulated when I see anyone justify why it is okay to view another person as less than, no matter how logically the argument flows. Logic should never lead us in the direction of justifying harm, even to those that have already caused immesurable harm, but logic should lead us in a direction to optomize how we doll out the consequences humanely, and how we can move forward in a way that honors those who have been victims in the human story.

I think it is worth stating as a footnote what my feelings are regarding serial killers in case I was not clear above. When I watch these shows (that often misappropriate historical fact to turn it into fiction and entertainment), I don't sympathize with them, and I don't view them as misunderstood. I do however have a pang of pain that I feel for them when I recognize the roots of why they became serial killers. The short of it all is that the research shows that "genetics load the gun, and the enviroment pulls the trigger." Neither of which were their fault, which is a tragedy in of itself, but what was their fault was what they did with their vulnerabilities. I think a lot of serial killer stories also points a finger at society as well, how corrupt police systems and racism can enable serial killers (as in the case of Dahmer), or how religious elitism can fuel isolation that can fuel the fire of such vulnerabilities (as was the case of Ed Gein). When I watch these shows, it is a sobering confrontation to my deeply held premise that "humans are good at their core", and these cases ask me to hold that notion with nuance as I consider the atrocious things humans have done to each other.

So where does this leave us? Well, I feel anxious writing about this because I was taught growing up to keep my mouth shut and not engage in anything "political" or "political-adjacent." But I do think that, as with most things in life, we have to learn to take a middle way. We don't idolize wrongdoers, and we don't demonize them. I think instead, we can learn to understand people when they hurt us and others, but not at the expense of our capacity to hold them accountable. This goes beyond serial killers and can relate to the people we know in our own lives. And as I write this, I am writing to myself, because I either have moments where I am extremely hurt by someone to the point that I disregard their humanity, or I am complacent in letting someone avoid the consequences of their bad behaviors by not standing up for myself. I'm not talking as a moral superior because I am not one. I am someone who often times lacks a spine when people hurt me, and I unfortunately have enabled the pain others put me through for far too long. Maybe my next post should be about how I could use the middle way to reduce my own suffering, or even to ponder whether the middle way enables extremist behavior (as we have seen in American politics).

I think it took me so long to get to watching this film because I was in such a Superman hyperfixation. When it comes to Marvel vs DC, I think I like DC more (and I agree with an opinion my boyfriend made about how Batman's IP alone could outdo the story telling of the entire Marvel Universe). Regardless, I do still love Marvel. When Endgame came out, I started reading Marvel comics out of curiosity. I read Marvel Comics #1 from the 1930's (loved it), but I really fell in love with Marvel's Silver Age comics. The Amazing Spiderman, The X-Men, and The Fantastic Four were the comics I liked the most from that era, and when I got the news around 2020 when Marvel announced they would be making a Fantastic Four movie set in the MCU, I basically creamed myself. Fastforward to this year, and I was not in theaters when the movie came out, I was watching Superman instead.

Now, I have written extensively about my thoughts on Superman, both here (see Oct 23rd post) and on my Superman shrine, but I did really like what Marvel did with the Fantastic Four. I was very skeptical about the casting at first, especially for Mr. Fantastic, but I thought it worked well in such a way that I was actually surprised by how much I liked Pedro Pascal's rendition of the character. I like how the film was set in another universe, so they didn't have to worry about "how do we make their intelligence not alter the world so differently that it messes up the vibe we already created for our world?"

I liked the silver age references (like the villains they went up against, and the recreation of their first comic cover together). But I was most surprised by the plot. I didn't know they were going to give Sue a baby?! I also didn't know how much my heart would be beating during that scene where she is going into labor while other stressors are happening at the same time. I thought that was good suspense in film, something I long so much for in modern media. I thought it had beautiful moments, and I really liked the dynamics between the characters (though it could have been fleshed out more).

One gripe I have about the film has to do with its message. With Superman, it had something profound to say, and regardless of the directors intent, many people have created interpretations of their own. Some see the film reflecting the Israeli-Palestine conflict, others see it reflecting our problems with immigration in the states. I saw it as a meditation on what it means to be human, and how empathy is the ultimate superpower anyone can hold. With Fantastic 4, I don't know what the message of the film is. I think some defenders would say the message was about "family", but what about family?

I think one of the film's strongest thematic scenes is when Sue Storm says "I will not sacrifice my baby for this planet, but I will also not sacrifice this planet for my baby." Powerful stuff, really reminds me of the whole "needs of the many outweight the needs of the few/needs of the one outweight the needs of the many" theme from the Star Trek films. Regardless, I get the sense that James Gunn had something important to say when he made the Superman movie, I don't know if I sense the same passion in the Fantastic Four. Does that matter to me though? Not too much.

You can tell a story devoid of a message for the audience and it still be enjoyable. After all, movies are entertainment, not lectures. That said, I loved the film. I give it a good 8/10 which means I enjoyed it thoroughly. I do think though that my biggest criticism of the MCU is how each villain is essentially a one and done appearance. Fantastic Four brought to life a character I was hoping would replace Thanos: Galactus.

This is a character that always fascinated me in the comics, with him being all purple and goofy looking, but also possessing the power to consume the entire planet. It's good story telling material. The problem is that Marvel tends to introduce villains for the sake of the film, and then kill them off. The exceptions to the rule are characters like Thanos that exist for a higher story line, or Loki, who had a higher story line and then assembled into the main roster of characters as more or less a hero himself.

Anyways, if I really want more Galactus content, the comics are there for me. In the meantime, I can enjoy some of those comics, maybe get to watching the Thunderfucks or whatever that film is called (I heard it also did good), and read some more Marvel.

So I recently finished finalizing my Comic Book shrine on here, which has a library of all the comic book covers belonging to comics I have read and personally enjoyed. As I noticed the unbalanced ratio of comics represented between Marvel and DC, I decided to read some more Marvel to balance things out a bit, and where better to start than the Golden Age of Comics. I didn't think I would personally enjoy reading Captain America stories from the 40s, but I surprisingly do. Of course, you have stories with overt racism, which makes me roll my eyes, but then there are stories that show a side of America I wish I could see.

For instance, there are so many stories of Captain America and Bucky Barnes (his Robin-esque side-kick) punching Nazi's and standing up to fascism. While I am not one to want anyone to be punched IRL (since it doesn't really solve anything), there is something moving about seeing a story of an American that so easily knows that Nazi's are bad and not worth idolizing.

This is a side of America that I unfortunately don't see too often. Sure, there's the No-Kings protests, and the cute frog costume protests against ICE, along with a ton of other things, there is a sense that my country is complex and not all unified on this. At least during WWII there was some semblance of "we are all banding together to fight Nazi's and other forms of dictatorship. At the risk of sounding like one of those people praying for the old times to come back, I know things weren't perfect then either. Americans also targeted people of color, indigenous persons, as well as queer people. That being said, I think there is something to yearn for in that the America of the 40s was on board with fighting fascism, vs the America of the 2020's that is currently co-opting it, and defending it in a cultish manner.

I think if one of these MAGA bros was put in the 1940s, they would be happier because of prevelance of more conservative values, but I also think they would have gotten canceled if the people then knew how they used their right to vote. It makes me think about how people complain about how "political" everything is, vs back in the 40s, people may have just had a sense of "its just common sense, Nazi's are bad...end of story."

I don't know how I ended up in a generation that so normalized radical conservatism to the point that it's unhealthy. To reference a previous post, I think any extreme is unhealthy, and while this sounds like I am advocating for a centrist point of view, I'm not. I am a liberal through and through, but I think even that could be taken too far. Do I know what that looks like? No...but I'm intuiting that its possible. I do think though that we have seen the extreme of conservatism. This is different from the more subtle "we should be decent in how we dress and not talk about sex till marriage." What I am seeing in my country is much more "we need to protect the kids" which really means "I deserve the right to decide how other people live their life" and "I deserve to promote my worldview over other peoples."

I did not expect to make a post about politics, but technically everything is political, from art to film and straight through comic books. So forgive me if I have some thoughts about ol Cap punching a Nazi, or the last son of Krypton busting gambling rings in comics. I should write sometime about my thoughts on Golden-Age comics, as well as just pop-culture of yesteryear. While I think the world has improved (in our recognition of diversity, environmental rights, and in our capacity to talk about mental health), I do think that I miss the idea of being a part of a country that was vehemently against Nazi's.

Footnote, I am by no means a historian, so I anticipate my view of the world back then is likely limited, but I will say that I have a decent knowledge on the U.S.'s relationship with first nations and queer communities, so I am intuiting the rest based on what I know from there. Again though, this is a blog post, not a history book with credible sources.

I was planning on writing something about spooky horrors but then I forgot, and now there is 6 minutes left till it is no longer Halloween. I am about to watch Frankenstein (and hopefully Bride of Frankenstein too) with my partner, and I am excited. There is such a wonder and awe I get watching Universal Monster flicks because of its gothic and macabre style. I really resonate with Frankensteins monster the most, especially the second film he's in because of all the themes of oppression towards someone who is kind, but also different. I also hope I can cosplay as the moster one day.

I will say it is pretty strange that the films depart so far from the book (a literary masterpiece that is one of my favorite novels of all time), and yet the films manage to also be cinematic masterpieces despite the departure. The set pieces, the casting and costumes, the plot, and the black and white vibes. All aspects that get me in the mood for the Halloween season. I like that one month every year is devoted to celebrating fear, the thing that binds me so much in my life. It reminds me of the quote Stephen King said about how he writes fictional horrors to help him deal with the real ones. Plus, this safe approaching towards fear is a way I built resilience towards it, and now I view it as a friend and something that contain's beauty.

Seriously, we avoid fear so much, and where does that avoidance get us? Instead, approaching that fear with curiosity and a sense of awe tames the anxiety best. This is coming from someone who has been plagued with fear all his life. I used to have a fear of alcohol, and then I drank the fear away (bad comparison I know). Now I choose not to drink rather than letting the anxiety choose for me. I would sit in bars and not even drink just so that I could expose myself to the "poison" I feared would ruin my life. And after all that exposure, I feel much more ambivalent to it. (P.S. don't drink irresponsibly to cope with fear, that is not what I did, I would drink small amounts till my anxiety knew that there was alcohol in my body, so that I could learn to sit with the anxiety and cope with it). Anyways, I hope all are having a spooky and goulish Halloween, and not getting razorblades in their candy bags.

Loneliness is an epidemic, according to any reputable mental health organization. It has its own spin-offs like "male-loneliness" and "existential-loneliness." Currently, I think I am experiencing a bit of loneliness. Writing those words down and knowing that someone might read them is rather vulnerable and a little uncomfortable. Someone out there might actually see that I am struggling. I think that is what I want instead of this loneliness.

Today I woke up at 3pm, barely did any of my chores or goals for the day and just ended up letting the day pass me by. Whats worse is that none of my friends were available to chat, so I just remained cooped up in my room. While, yes, I know isolation feeds loneliness, I'd rather feel lonely than the anxiety I get from spending time with my conservative family. Regardless, that feeling that someone might know that I struggled a bit today brings me comfort. That someone might not be as self-involved to miss the fact that I woke up late and didn't accomplish much. I wonder what kinds of responses I would get if I included a comment section for this blog, but then again, I think if I did do that, I would have to reckon with people pushing back against my experience.

Like, yes, it is good to have my views of things challenged, I don't think it would be helpful in this context because I always write from a tender place of my heart, and I'd probably feel the need to defend myself again, the way I had to as a young boy in a church full of adults saying that gay people like myself don't deserve to be treated the same way they are treated. I think the loneliness began even before that. I think people forget that emotions don't just crop out because of a trigger, but those triggers crop out because of experiences, meaning that you can have patterns of feelings across the lifetime. For me, loneliness has been an old friend, alongside anxiety and boredom. If I were to personify them, they would say that life is a lonely place, full of danger, and not full of enough stimulation to make any meaning out of my day. But I know better.

Just yesterday I was walking outside and looking at the stars, and I had this sense that those ancient stars were there for me, like a compassionate audience. I don't believe the stars are sentient, or spiritual beings or anything of the sort. But when you have lived an isolated life as mine in order to survive, you learn to accept the embrace of a lifeless object as a source of company. I know I will feel better tomorrow, but in the meantime, I think I could draw these feelings out. I gotta start attaching drawings to my blog posts.

This is a scary one to write about. Partly because I fear that I am being watched. I know this is paranoia speaking, and that these words are private, but it is still scary the thought that this could somehow circle back to them, that I have ever thought of cutting them off.

Emotional cutoff is a tricky one, because it entails cutting off family members to manage anxiety, and usually leads to long term distress in individuals that don't deal with the emotions the cutoff leaves in them. The alternative is staying and trying to fix this broken dynamic, something I can only see happening through therapy, but then I imagine what it would look like to sit in therapy with my family, and every intervention I can see a therapist throwing our way would make me terribly uncomfortable. Setting boundaries with my parents? Terrifying. Telling my parents how I feel emotionally when they talk about Jesus? Unspeakable fear. Any level of change that is brought out of therapy necessitates that the people in there want to change bad enough that they will go through the discomfort of approaching their own emotions, and I just can't see a reality where I do that.

I know in instances of on-going abuse, therapists will see members of a couple separately, so as to not become complicit in the abuse itself. That said, if there is ongoing spiritual abuse in my family (which there is), doesn't that mean I myself shouldn't go to family therapy with them? Wouldn't it be better if they went there themselves? It's not as if I am someone that won't carry my own emotional weight, I have just done it so much for all these years that I wince at the thought of having to do so again in such a direct fashion.

I've done therapy for myself for almost 6 years, and I loved it all. I love approaching my pain and talking about it, or having the honor of crying in front of someone in such a way that validates me and helps me be seen. But the thought of being in the same room as my parents, which makes me feel terribly unsafe...what if the concept of family worship were to come up, and I was asked to express my feelings about it? I do not feel comfortable saying "I feel like family worship is the punishment you guys put me through when I came out of the closet", because I have tried so hard to avoid anything LGBTQ coming up in my family because each time it does, I get spiritually abused to the point of dissociating or remaining numb for long periods of time.

All of this pondering of what could go wrong in therapy, and how tender of an attachment wound this all is makes me wonder "do I really want to go to therapy with my parents at all to try and fix this? Or have I reached the point where I just want to move out and not deal with their cult-like worldview anymore?" I don't like thinking about it because my parents are complex. They aren't always triggering me. Sometimes they help me go shopping, or have lovely moments together over a shared drink from McDonald's. Cutoff doesn't mean just leaving behind the bad, it also means leaving behind the good, and that means admitting to wanting to leave means admitting there is more bad in the relationship than there is good...and what kid wants to admit that of their parents...

I hope this post ages well. So let's get some facts out of the way. 1) I grew up loving Michael Jackson music, 2) I tend to believe people are innocent rather than guilty, and 3) I tend to believe people when they say they have been raped (btw, trigger warning regarding sexual abuse). So keeping all of this in mind, my opinions of Michael Jackson have gone everywhere over the years. As a kid, I knew a little bit about the child molestation charges, and assumed his innocence because "duh, he's Michael Jackson." Then I kind of forgot about the allegations until Leaving Neverland came out.

I initially believed the documentary on its surface because statistically, less than 1% of people that claim to be raped actually lie about it. I don't have the specific number, but my source is a graduate school class on child abuse and domestic violence that I took a few years back. So it seemed obvious. Also, why would someone go through so much effort to learn how to act in a believable way, why would someone put in all the effort to lie about something that you should not lie about? I learned to pivot. I held both truths, that Michael Jackson's music is amazing, and that I can appreciate the heaven and euphoria his music brings, while also recognizing that he is human, flawed, and that he was abusive towards children. It lined up so perfectly in my head. He admitted to sleeping over with kids, was abused himself as a child (reporting that he didn't get to have a childhood due to stardom), and the way he would act around kids would sometimes raise some flags. Why would a 40 year old act in such a way to a minor? Some have even said he checks off all the lists for grooming, befriending the victim and the family, showering both with gifts, gaining trust before developing the capacity to be alone with the child, etc. It seemed so simple. Then I looked into more of the evidence. This all started with the trailer for the Michael Biopic releasing today, and my friend telling me about the evidence against Leaving Neverland, so I did some research of my own.

Typically in cases of sexual abuse, evidence is a tricky thing, because if one person rapes another, what evidence will there be? It's not like murder where there's a corpse and a weapon, and it ain't like robbery where there's the stolen goods. Sexual abuse is often one person's account against someone else, which confounds and complicates things so very much. But there is evidence worth considering in MJ's case.

Taken as a whole, Jordan Chandler (the first child to come forward stating he was sexually abused by Michael) ended up 1) claiming that Michael Jackson was circimsized in a court of law, which MJ's autopsy would disprove. Secondly, when the 2005 molestation case came out, Jordan Chandler was summoned as witness for this trail, to which he suspiciously fled the country, which could be interpreted as evading having to testify or lie under oath. MJ's lawyer also stated having witnesses lined up to testify under oath that Jordan confided in them that he was not molested and that his father made him claim that he was. Chandler's dad stated on film (two months prior to the charges btw) that he was going to get rich and he didn’t care how it effected his son, as long as he got his. Jordan's father asked the court for $20 million in charges filed. If you were a parent and your child was sexually abused, sure money would be nice, but wouldn't your first reaction to be to demand justice, that the abuser goes to jail so that the world doesn't have to be hurt by the same man who hurt your child?

I know MJ settled in the civil trial, which some see as an admission of guilt, but the family filed a civil lawsuit concurrent with the criminal charges. Criminal trials take a lot longer than civil trials, so the civil trial would have played out first, giving prosecutors the opportunity to see what Jackson’s defense would be, putting him at a disadvantage in the criminal trial even if he won the civil lawsuit. Jackson’s lawyers failed to get the civil trial postponed until after the criminal trial, so they agreed to Chandler’s terms and settled because Jackson was in a no-win situation. To me, that's just playing the court system smart, even if you are innocent.

Then there's the 2005 trial, with Gavin Arviso, which has some inconsistencies in how the timeline of events panned out (including how some dates were changed as the defense offered more evidence), which is one main reason Michael Jackson was aquitted on all charges, which included child molestation, abduction and conspiracy. These are large allegations that usually necessitate evidence, evidence the court could not find. Even when Michael Jackson was virtually stalked and survelled by the FBI for years, they found nothing. MJ's Neverland house staff defends him, his family, all the people that knew him, except for these 4 parties, 2 of which we already explored.

Additionally, Gavin's family had made false allegations of sexual abuse before MJ when they accused J.C. Penny staff of sexually abusing the mother, Janet Arvizo. The kids had also been coached to lie in previous cases to aid in their parent’s extortion attempts. The family claimed that MJ showed the children porn from a magazine. Gavin's brother (Star) identified a magazine as the one containing the porn, but it was published AFTER the last time they wer eever at Neverland ranch. There were also staff who testified that the kids broke into offices at Neverland, found security codes, and rummaged through Michael’s personal belongings. The defense claimed he found them looking through his porn mags, confiscated them, and locked them away in a briefcase (which is exactly where they were found when police raided Neverland). I know I am going through a lot, but for me, it takes a lot of evidence for me to claim someone's innocence in this case, because that means believing that 4 separate parties lied about sexual abuse, which is a hard thing to swallow, and if I am wrong, then how could I forgive myself for siding with the abuser?

My friend recently brought up how Leaving Neverland was defrauded and exposed, so I looked into it. Wade Robinson only started accusing Michael of molestation after he was turned down to direct the Michael Jackson Cirque de Soleil show and his career was going downhill. Suspicious timing He also tried to publish a book first, but failed, then tried suing the estate, and failed, then tried suing MJ’s companies, and failed, now he’s made this documentary and appealed the court’s decision. The director Dan Reed said he hopes the documentary is shown in court the way the 2003 documentary was shown in the 2005 trial, meaning the documentary was made to bolster their claims in court. He says he was first molested by Michael when he was 7 and left alone at Neverland for a week while his parents went to the Grand Canyon. His mother testified in 1994 and 2016 that the whole family went to the Grand Canyon and Wade never visited Neverland alone until 1993 (3 years after he claims he spent a week alone at Neverland). He also changed the date of when the molestation started numerous times. Initially it was the first night when the whole family was at Neverland, then the second night, and then it was after the family left to the Grand Canyon when Wade was left alone (which didn’t happen according to his mother).

With James Safechuck, he only started claiming MJ abused him after he saw Wade filing a lawsuit, and it is worth noting that James was involved in legal and financial troubles of his own with his family. Safechuck claims he was abused from June 1988 (when Michael was in Paris for the Bad Tour) until sometime in 1992. He said in his complaint he was molested by Michael after the 1989 Grammy Awards in New York where Michael performed. The 1989 Grammy Awards were actually in LA and Michael didn’t perform. He did perform at the 1988 Grammy Awards in New York, but that was months before the molestation allegedly first started in Paris during the Bad Tour. His timeline is also mixed up on the latter end of it too. He said in the documentary that he and Michael had sex all over Neverland, including the upstairs area above the train station. The double-story train station at Neverland wasn’t built until 1993, and was finished in 1994. Long after Safechuck claims the molestation ended, and long after he claims they first started “dating.”

After reviewing all of the evidence, even if I am wrong about 2 or 3 of these points (which I don't think I am, but I am always willing to explore), the evidence builds up to state that this entire thing is complicated AF. I want to believe in the goodness of humanity, but in this case I have to sacrifice that notion a little, because either one person was sexually abusive towards children, or 2 parties co-opted their children into lying publically for financial gain, with 2 adults later in life making a smear campaign against an innocent person. Again, I believe accusers when they state they have been abused, but is this one of the <1% of cases where they could have been lying? One could ask why I should care at all, but it does matter to me. This decides if I spend money on the Michael biopic, how I relate to the singer I admired as a kid, and whether or not I believe that these accusers are lying or not. It raises questions of when should the evidence trump the testimony of someone that is so fervent that they were abused. And after years of believing that Michael Jackson was guilty, I believe differently, and I will continue to until I get substantial evidence to prove the above claims wrong. I now believe Michael is innocent.

I believe Michael Jackson was weird and eccentric. I believe he befriended everyone, to the point of befriending conmans and people who would take advantage of him. I believe the abuse Michael lived through as a child didn't harden him into an abuser, but softened him into one that could never put another child through such abuses of any kind. He slept in the same rooms as kids, he had a pet monkey, and fantasized about being Peter Pan himself. I think the dude was weird, but I don't think he was abusive. And with that is a breath of fresh air, because this means that the upcoming biopic is not a highlight reel of a guilty party, but an exploration of a complex being who got smeared in court.

I had listened to Michael Jackson since I was a kid, and of course I loved virtually every song he came out with. I remember always knowing about Man in the Mirror, and even knowing the melody, but I hadn't listened to it from start to finish fully. It was only until I was in college that I first heard the song from end to end, and for those that know, the song has a major tone shift about halfway through the song. I remember I was driving, and I wasn't gonna switch the song or restart the song since I was driving. I have a bad habit (that I attribute to my ADHD) where I will restart a song every 30 or so seconds so that I can really appreciate the depth of the song, or let my imagination soar with the music, since every song has an image in my head, and I like watching the scenes from start to finish, or even replaying my favorite scenes that come up. So I would often restart the song so I could re-experience those earlier scenes, but not this time.

I remember when the choir joined into the song, my body freaked out a little. I don't remember exactly what it was, if my face got flushed, I looked down at the radio in shock, or if I did something else, but I do remember the surge of euphoria that washed over me when I first heard the choir. I remember not wanting to reboot the song this time because it was playing something so shockingly stunning that I dare not interrupt what it had to say. I often get fractions of that shock when I listen to the song again nowadays, but nothing can equate to the first time honestly.