I just assume everyone is being nice because that’s what I’m doing. I no longer attempt to flirt because the two times I tried resulted in absolute confusion or with them laughing at me. So it’s confusing when multiple times in the past where people just start to kiss me. How long were they flirting with me? When did I flirt back? What’s even happening? I thought I was just being friendly…

More confusing is ending up in someone else’s bed without realizing you were brought there for sex until it starts happening. Even more confusing still is ending up in my own bed with someone who had plans of sex before I ever had a clue.

I’ve generally lived most my life in conservative areas or have been around conservative types of people so this isn’t a common occurrence for me. When I travelled and lived abroad or enter spaces where people are comfortable being and expressing themselves is when I start to feel visible to the world again.

Regardless of the situations I find myself in, still can’t read a person’s behaviour while I’m there in the moment. I’m only able to see what’s happened when I have time to reflect on the experiences in a quiet space. I always tell people they would have more success flirting with a wall because a wall won’t rationalize flirting into niceness.

I feel similar in being robbed of the guidance and wisdom from the elders I thought I could look up to.

Not all but far too many of the elders in my life and from my experiences were bitter and selfish. They took out their frustration with personal issues and insecurities on those who dared to be different or do things differently. They enforced their narrow world view on others. Instead of earning the trust and love from their family and community, they demanded respect and attention from everyone.

These types of people are the best examples of how not to behave. Unfortunately, that leaves a knowledge gap as far fewer people are practicing and teaching healthier behaviours. I have found that younger people to be far more accepting, understanding and empathetic. It’s not only refreshing to see but I’ve unexpectedly learned so much about people in general and about myself through younger people. As backwards as it seems, I am still appreciative of that.

Since these old and bitter types had no positive lessons to teach, I took it upon myself to be better than them. I am conscious to how I act around younger people. I make an effort to listen, acknowledge and support them when possible but most importantly, I treat them as people. All the things I wish I had when I was younger and confused. It feels rewarding when they express their appreciation but there is a small emptiness in giving something you barely got yourself in your own life.

It brings me some comfort seeing how clear and easy to understand language is being used against these angry people.

They are being forced to explain their behaviour instead of arguing the specifics of words. It’s subtle but effective in my opion.

I am really enjoying this.

I’ve been enjoying the use or weird lately. I’ve had some strong personal opinions on language lately. A lot of it comes with a huge increase of new words that sort of seem abstract from it’s meaning.

I think with how rapid information can spread to large groups of people, it’s just too fast for my mind to keep up. All of a sudden I feel like I’m in a war with words and who knows which landmine of a word will get you in trouble. It causes me even more anxiety when someone comes at you with manipulative intentions in order to control the direction of the discussion.

I think weird works because it’s an almost basic word. It’s simple and descriptive. It’s not a newer, more specific word that requires a deeper understanding of a broader topic. It’s understood by more people. People with varying degrees of language knowledge including people whose native language is not English. It’s easier for more people to understand.

It’s a lot easier to understand someone is weird compared to someone being a fascist.

This feels like satire? A site called real men, real style with an article about penises?

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I was in a situation not long ago on the only discord server I frequent. This angry American guy kept posting women hating content that he thought was hilarious. Called him out on it and he tried to justify that women and men need their own community spaces. On a discord server owned and run by a woman for a video game we all play together.

He tried to go off on unrelated tangents but I stuck to my main point. I made it clear that his type of behaviour is what makes women feel unsafe in many communities and spaces. I also made it clear that his approach to mental health care was deeply flawed and did so by a long string of questions and statements all pointing out his hypocritical actions. I think that worked?

He kept going off on trans people, I asked him why he kept thinking of trans people. He kept saying women and men need their own spaces, I told him that if he is so desperate for men’s only spaces, there’s gay bars and clubs to go to. He kept bringing up other groups of people he hated in response to mental health questions, I asked him if he cares about his mental health or just looking for someone else to blame for his hate filled behaviour. When he deflected a question about why women feel unsafe in so many spaces, I brought it back around to challenge him to ask women why they feel unsafe and find out himself. The more he talked, the more he cornered himself. His actions never matched his words so I had a year+ catalogue of his hypocrisy to throw back at him.

In the end he agreed to stop posting hate content and then disappeared for a week. He came back briefly to privately talk to the discord server owner, she laid into him with a couple paragraphs regarding his hate towards women. He never responded and has disappeared again. I’m hoping he is reflecting real hard about himself right now, but I’m low on hope.

The biggest issue I have in dealing with hate filled people is that they have what feels like an infinite source of energy and their hate completely burns out all the good people they surround themselves with. Some of us are just exhausted and only want to play games, share stupid memes and post cute pet pictures. Don’t bring your hate trash everywhere you go, please. It ain’t funny.

I’m so tired.

I’ve found myself lately a lot more interested in games that don’t focus heavily on graphics but instead allow other parts of the game to speak for itself. This allows for the imagination to fill in the gaps, as you mentioned.

I’ve been playing a lot or Caves of Qud recently. It’s a rogue-like game with tile graphics and colourful text. Somehow this menu simulator game has drawn me into it’s harsh and unforgiving world. The tile based graphics actually allows for an amazing amount of creative freedom both from the developer and player point of views. The developer has created this futuristic planet with mutants and cybernetics roaming the planet trying to survive. The player has the freedom to play as they like and create the most unique characters they can imagine. My current character has two hearts, a scorpion tail, a fanged beak, two dagger wielding claws and a habit for stabbing.

I think the rise of constantly better technology has inadvertently encouraged a focus on better graphics over other aspects of video games. While there are some absolutely beautiful games with higher hardware demand, I think as of late, I’m yearning for games that focus more on story or gameplay. Games where you can feel the developer’s passion. Games with polish and attention to details in the most unexpected ways. Games that attempt to push boundaries within certain limitations (think hardware or graphic styles for example).

I think what I want is a game that feels like I’m reading a fiction book in a way. What I mean is that when you read a work of fiction, your imagination is filling in all that visual information. A game can provide you more than just text, but if it can balance graphics, gameplay and story, it can really transport and immerse your imagination into that world.

My trauma response to people who consistently jump to the most wild and unpredictable conclusions.

There’s no greater shock to people who lack empathy and an unwillingness to treat people with dignity than a person willing to put their foot down to prioritize their own dignity.

Fucking with manipulators would be more fun if they weren’t such scary and dangerous people.

I found the best way to walk through a crowd of geese is to avoid eye contact at all costs. Pretend it’s an empty field and you’ll most likely be safe.

It’s like an extreme sport but without the price tag. Although I would not walk through a crowd of geese if babies are present, no matter how cute, fluffy and snuggly they look.

As with many travelers in Australia, we both had work/holiday visa’s that allowed us to stay in Australia for 1-2 years. This wonderful comment was thrown at me within the first week of arriving at a hostel in Sydney.

Fortunately they left a month or two later but I still avoided them when they did still live there.

Amazing. Layers of ignorance for an already dumb thing to say.

I’m a person of colour who has a white step parent and has grown up in Canada in a fairly mixed area.

My family history would have started in India but my parents were born in South America and migrated up to North America (both Canada and the US) where my sister and I were born. I grew up “white.” My voice, appearance and behaviour are “white.” I was born and raised Canadian. I’m far from proud of this country where I have spent my life but I will identify myself as a Canadian. My family history had been thoroughly white washed and erased.

I say all this because for all this history I have behind me, it means nothing to most people.

The majority of Indian people here will look at me one way until I speak and then promptly ignore me because I’m not “Indian.”

West Indian people want to be my best friend until they find out I’ve never visited any West Indian country. Then I’ll be treated as an idiot for not embracing a culture I have no real knowledge of and have not been immersed in.

Then there are the white people… No matter how white I act, I will never be “white” enough. I’ll always be the colour of my skin. I could look, act and behave as awful as a white cop and still not be on the same level.

In fact, I have a “friend” who is a cop. He’s not really my friend, more of an acquaintance I’ve known for 10+ years through another more decent friend. This guy is just fucking awful and every molecule in his body is racist and vile. He looks at me, arms full of tattoos and tells me I’d be a perfect “UC.” Undercover Cop. My only value to him is to be used to incriminate fellow people of colour. I’m just not a person or anything close to equal. Always something less.

I’ve never really had a place where I felt I belonged while growing up. Hated for being me from multiple angles for reasons beyond my control while doing nothing harmful to anyone. There are good people out there who treat me as a person first but they are few and far between.

Another quick story, I once had a Dutch guy in Australia tell me that his last name Hoffmeister means “House Master.” You know, from the times when they used to own slaves. Thanks for telling me that to my face, you absolute weirdo.

After finally getting fed up, I went on a 10 month campaign against mamagement calling out all the sexism, racism, poor management and absolute disrespectful treatment of apprentices and contractors. I made it very clear that the work culture was awful in every way.

I got predictably fired but I secretly was working with corporate to deal with the the awful HR manager who was enabling this work culture.

Without going into much details, After my company fired me, I put in a complaint to the government labour board over a wrongful termination case. A month later after my submitting my case to the labour board, the HR manager was forced into early retirement. A month after that I settled out of court and got my severance plus a little extra to cover lawyer fees.

My coworkers knew, most got upset at me for challenging authority, some respectfully supported me at an arms length and even fewer people actually supported me.

What was undercover hate wasn’t very hidden by the end of my time there. Although I doubt they fully knew how much I couldn’t stand them. I still had to maintain the peace somehow.

I used to work in the trades. I was surrounded by straight-acting men. There’s nothing more gay than a group of straight-acting men.

Unfortunately it’s the creepy, repressed kind of gay that would make a tolerate person’s skin crawl.

I feel awful for their wives and children.

Many people get annoyed that I often give vague answers. If I over explain myself, they’ll twist my words into a new meaning. I’m confused :D

I’ve had stocks in a couple forms over my lifetime and after a while, both times I have pulled all my money out.

The first time was shortly after the 2008 crash. All those reassuring words my investing manager person told me were simply sweet nothings. I decided that taking the hit of losing half my money was a life lesson and used the remaining half to go travel and live a life for myself. That investing manager later went on to have a covid party out of defiance for masking requirements, caught covid and died. Felt good knowing my stranger-danger alarms were working even if I didn’t understand my decisions fully at the time.

The second time I simply put my money into a low risk, government stock option for a few years. After watching global leaders fumble the handling of a global pandemic, I lost faith my own government to have my best interest in mind. I pulled my money out again.

I personally feel super uncomfortable allowing other people to make money off my money that I am risking. Even if it is low risk. It make me feel exploited.

Ultimately, I decided I don’t need my money to work for me because I don’t even want to work. I hate the concept of money. To me, money just disconnects us from community and nature.

If you are curious to how I live, it’s with very little. I spent a number of years of my life living out of a 34 liter sized backpack. Living minimally while making sure what I owned had meaning, purpose or intention transfered over to when I finally started settling into a certain location.