Even if we’re secretly Martians.

If you defend nazis and their right to incite violence and terror you are not my friend. If you defend the so called alt right and the kkk and say not all x or all lives matter you are not my friend.

You are not the friend of my family, of my friends, of my neighbours and coworkers and acquaintances. We deserve to live in safety. To feel safe walking down the street or in the checkout line. It doesn’t matter the colour of our skin, sexual orientation, religion or lack thereof, gender identity, or if we’re secretly Martians or purple people eaters.

Just don’t be a gods damned nazi. There is no good excuse for fascism.

As someone much smarter than I said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Edmund Burke.

The violence that occurred today is unfortunately nothing new. But it is still horrific and it isn’t going to go away with apologism and excuses and pandering.

And if you’re not my friend. If you don’t value our safety and our lives and our liberty. You can show yourselves the door.

This was originally posted on Facebook, but I feel that it is important to post here as well. Facebook is a frequently ephemeral medium outside of my control and this is important. Fuck nazis.

Even if we’re secretly Martians.

Up and coming this weekend!

This weekend, I will be at Old Fort MacArthur Days! It’s a brilliant living history event, and if you’re in southern California and like that sort of thing, I highly encourage you to go check it out. I participate with Clan MacColin, which is the same group I’ve belonged to at faire for years (okay, and by years I mean since I was born).

Anyway, that’s pretty much that. I hope everyone is doing well, and I’m off to go do the thing!

Up and coming this weekend!

Some thoughts.

As usual, I have thoughts bouncing around my head like a bunch of rabid weasels that refuse to just settle down and behave. So what the hey, I’ll write a post about them instead!

One of the things that happens sometimes, within the communities that I hang out in, is getting asked, “So what do you write?” and my default, instinctual answer is something along the lines of, “I don’t”, or, “Nothing really,” anything along those lines.

I have a complicated relationship with words.

Obviously by the fact that I have this blog at all, the aforementioned statements aren’t particularly factual or true; instead they are a reflection of my notions of self-worth, they are a mirror of how I tend to view my writing despite time and time again of people telling me otherwise about it. Even when I admit to the fact that I write things, be it this blog or my assortment of poetry or my seven trashfire nanowrimo drafts (yep, seven; and I still moderate a nanowrimo chatroom on IRC but in recent years haven’t produced anything remotely resembling a story let alone a novel) most of which I would prefer to never see again, I have a very difficult time seeing myself as a writer.

Part of this in turn stems from the difficulties that I have with composition. A lot of what I write is exceedingly short, and I’m not talking about the whole myth that “shorter is better”, either. The posts I write are short because I run out of the ability to string the words together and make them say what I want to. They don’t look the same on the screen as they sound in my head and I get frustrated and more often than not I close the window and do not post anything at all. I leave windows open for hours on end (like I have this one) and don’t come up with what I want to say.

There’s a solution to this problem for me, but it’s a solution that comes with its own round of problems. That solution is pen and paper. I’ve always felt better and felt like I have more of a compositional flow when I’m writing with pen and paper. However, I have a whole host of problems with doing that as well.

I hold my pen too tightly, and writing more than a sentence at a time often physically hurts. Additionally, one of the most abiding and severe manifestations of my obsessive compulsive disorder happens when I am writing on paper. I have a very difficult time coping with the natural differences in letter forms, and every letter has to be perfect and look like every other letter on the page. I cannot switch pens in the middle of the page. If I misspell a word or make a mistake or my pen slips I have to start over from the beginning. If my pen runs out? I have to start over from the beginning. Sometimes mistakes are so upsetting that instead of writing I end up focused on tearing up what I made a mistake on, or shredding it, or burning it. I start writing in notebooks and then three days later put it aside and do not continue, which is made worse by the narrative that I’m wasting paper— I don’t want to be wasting paper, and I really do care about trees.

Shopping lists are a particularly fun part of this. I end up writing shopping lists two to three times just to get them to look neat and so that the foods are organised by type and aisle and store, and gods above forbid anyone else writes on my shopping list. Then I redo it again.

So of course, the solution to that is technology. Write on a computer, they said; it’ll be fun, they said; it’ll solve all your problems, they said. And maybe for someone else it will solve all of their problems, but it hasn’t yet solved mine.

A lot of things that I write I still work out on paper first and then type up after I have the idea of where it is going. But most of the time I’m not willing to deal with the entire process of writing or the frustrations of writing, and so that’s the reason that most of the time, I’m not willing to call myself a writer.

Some thoughts.

Up and coming this weekend!

This weekend I will be at FOGcon, which is a wonderful literary and things convention up in Walnut Creek. I have been several times in the past and always thoroughly enjoy it.

This year I will once again be on panels, as well. I’m definitely excited although it comes with the standard helping of imposter syndrome and feeling as if I am unqualified to be at the front of a room speaking about these things. Even when I know that’s untrue, and one of the best ways that I’ve found to conquer this particular version of imposter syndrome is by actually doing the thing that’s making me anxious. Damn brainweasels always getting into everything… Saturday evening will be When It’s Friends who are Hurting You and on Sunday morning I will be on Ancient Myths and Modern Culture.

In any case, now it’s time for me to shut my computer down so that I can pack it into my backpack. Even when the trip is just a few hundred miles across California in my own car, I enjoy getting the chance to hit the road.

Oh, and for those of you who already know me: my hair is teal now.

Up and coming this weekend!


This is a fairly quick post, in that I’ve been thinking for a while. I think I’m going to publish some of the poetry I have, here.

For one thing, it’s additional content for the site. But for two, while I do submit pieces to various publications there are also some pieces that are inherently personal and that I want to control perhaps a lot more. Pieces that I feel more comfortable with putting out here than sending out during submissions.

I may or may not also occasionally post some short fiction that I have. For now, the poetry is the main addition to the blog. I doubt anything will change about the frequency— this is a side project that I write when I have the time and inclination to do so. But if it does you’ll be the first to know.