top of page

I choose you random citizen…

Friendship is fucking weird. First off, it’s like saying I choose you to another random human. And it’s not about fucking or procreation which is normal for mammals. It’s about spending time, which in humans is just as important as carnal relationships. For a long time now I’ve met most of my friends online. For a variety of reasons, I’m sure a lot of people can relate. It’s easier to find people who get you when you’re queer this way. I used to spend a ton of time writing on Twitter and this was where most of my friends were. I was newly out and it was easier to start from scratch with strangers and tell them I’m this genderqueer person than people around me in my experience. It was also easier to find people who enjoyed gay romance as much as I did. I didn’t know it was a genre yet, just that a lot of people on tumblr and Twitter wrote slash like I did. We bonded over these types of stories in a place where they were fully accepted, something I still have a hard time finding in real life. I still don’t know what type of reaction I’m going to get when I tell people I write gay romance for a living, let alone talking about being trans. Online it’s not a thing.

Some of my closet friends are people I’ve met over the years online, and also some of the worst people in the universe. It’s a mixed bag which can be said of real life, but it seems to come out more aggressive in a public forum.

One of the weirdest phenomenons I’ve come across through this process is dealing in levels of honesty. I have a strange moral code so I don’t like to lie. I don’t lie to people I respect and I don’t lie to friends. Everyone tells white lies, but I try not to as it makes me feel like shit. I feel like in an age of social media we are less social and more superficial. Instead of knowing people better, social media has made lying the in thing to do. We have to put our best foot forward and make our lives seem glamorous. I’m not saying I want people to post all their drama on facebook, but the opposite isn’t better either. There are parts of living in a digital age that bring out the worst in some people and they feel entirely justified spending a great deal of their time trying to wreck others either in public or private through these channels. -Coughs- goodreads -cough-

It’s turned into an almost game. People say things for attention. They vague book to get others to come to them, which has always felt like a sneaky way to only get their side of the story out there. It’s a way for them to make people come ask so they don’t have to actually put their words out for the public or for anyone to defend against. It’s only getting half of the story and we all know deep down there are three sides to every story. This kind of behind the scenes spreading of half a story is like a sickness. It infects and grows as it gets spread.

We have all been guilty of vague-booking for whatever reason. Humans make mistakes, but it’s bred a culture of attention seeking though social media and validation that can’t be healthy. This is something which, for someone with anxiety, makes navigating social interaction that much harder.

I had a friend recently ask me how I was. I replied with ‘Good’ via text message, but this was taken as not good because I guess good or fine are two words we can’t use anymore because of the deeper underlying meaning of not good when they are said. When I say I’m good I’m really good. I’m not saying it so my friends will be concerned and try to draw out of me what’s wrong. The entire interaction left me with a bad taste in my mouth because it felt like the friend was forcing their own feelings about a situation on me. And I was irritated when they probably didn’t mean anything by it, but were trying to actually be a good friend like they would want someone to do in return. I say what I mean, so it almost felt like when I was questioned the friend was calling me a liar. They didn’t believe I was good. Obviously under closer examination this most likely wasn’t their intention at all.


Self reflection —noun —An examination of self. Something people who don’t need do way too much, and people who could really use never do at all.

I spend way too much time in self reflection. I think most people with anxiety do, but do you ever feel like there are people around you that have never spend a moment in such a state? Anyway just more incoherent rambling from someone who had a rough week.

The first annoying thing that happened was my kid upon finding a small pool of blood in public was to run his fingers through it and then as I’m freaking out, bring it to his face to smell. I swear if I hadn’t swatted his hand away from his face he would have tasted it, because ‘it could have been marker’ It could also be BLOOD which it was. Cue me freaking out in public and making him wash his hands too many times. Yes I called his doctor, Yes he’s fine, he had no open wounds or anything so they aren’t worried, but yeah super gross. Kids man.


This morning my kid ran downstairs screaming there was a ‘wild cat’ attacking the chickens. I was like, fucking strays. So I grabbed shoes and pulled them on to run outside to find that my child meant a bobcat not a cat. Huge difference. This large wild animal came into the middle of our neighborhood and jumped my ten food fence before prying open the fence gate to get at the chickens. All of this in the middle of the morning, around ten o’clock. Welcome to Texas. So now I have to figure out how to bobcat proof my chickens during the day. Something I never expected. I’m also not so sure I can let my kids play outside in the backyard alone as bobcats are aggressive. Chicken farming is not at all what I expected, but let me tell you about fresh eggs. They are the shit. So back to the drawing board.

All this on top of my birthday and thanksgiving this week. Which I am not a fan of to say the least. All the social overload. I need to hide in my cave for the next two weeks to recover.

New chicken enclosure that should be bobcat proof.

6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page