Saturday, October 11, 2025

 I very much get all of this!!



Horror has always felt like the language my soul speaks when no one else is listening. Horror understands what it means to carry fear in your bones—not as something to be embarrassed about, but as something that shapes you into who you really are. For someone timid, for someone who knows the weight of fear day in and day out, horror offers an unexpected refuge. It’s a space where fear isn’t a failing or something to overcome, but a tool to unlock pieces of myself I’ve hidden away. Fear is the essential ingredient for a whole genre of books. It’s acknowledged, honored, and even celebrated. Horror takes all my restless anxieties—the ones that simmer just beneath the surface—and gives them form. It allows me to face them on my terms, in the safety of a story. Horror is empowering for someone like me. I can step into the fire willingly, feeling the heat, the danger, but knowing that it’s contained. A story can push me to the brink and pull me back. I witness characters enduring horrors far worse than my own struggles and trials.

I think I love it because horror doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t lie or sugarcoat or wrap the world in pretty packaging. It acknowledges the cracks in the veneer. It holds up a mirror to expose the messy, vulnerable parts we’d rather ignore. And in that, I’ve always felt seen. But a love of horror can also be shared.

From Why I Love Horror






Tuesday, October 7, 2025

 


I accidentally fell down a rabbit hole the other day when I followed a Wikipedia link to articles on lesbian pulp fiction. Two reviews I found for a book called The Loveliest of Friends (both written in 1931, a time I should not look to for compassion nor understanding when it comes to homosexuality) did not shy away from seeing being gay as a horrific thing you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

As I’ve gotten older, I still believe firmly that you cannot change your sexuality or be cured of being gay. I believe it with all my soul. When I was sent to ex-gay therapy by my parents, it almost destroyed me.

On the other hand, as I've gotten older I've also realized I no longer have the energy nor the care to fight what others think about sexuality or LGBTQ+ issues. I'm worn down by fear and weariness. It's exhausting defending your existence to others or trying to explain things.

"Asexual? What's that."

Or if people do know what it is, they just assume you were either traumatized by something as a young person or you haven't met the right person yet.

It's been three years since I last had strong feelings for someone, three years free of emotional torment or romantic longing. And while I'm not physically attracted to anyone nor attractive myself, those are not the reasons I have no interest in sex.

It's more complicated than that, but it's also not anything that terribly troubles me. I'm pretty sure I'd be this way if I were gorgeous and full of self-confidence.

I deeply understand and get that sex matters to a lot of people in this world. I think that's great and wonderful. It just doesn't matter to me. You'd think not having sex and not wanting it would be fairly controversial-free. But asexuality (usually delegated to the plus part of LGBTQ) is often a hot button issue for some.

Monday, September 29, 2025

I read in a recent Los Angeles Times that Shawn Cassidy is currently touring and I SO want to go.  I liked him so much in the late 70s and early 80s and the Tiger Beat girl that still lives inside me somehow also wants to go.





Wednesday, September 24, 2025

I am there but not there. I will sometimes think of the happiest times in my life, all of which seem behind me now, and be both thrown back into them like I'm in the cruelest of time machines and then thrust back here with what feels like a hard slap to the face.

Sometimes they are specific dates: October 31, 1989, November 19, 1997, June 17, 2016. 

Other times they are more like sets of times: the Fall of 1988 through the Spring of 1990

or all of the late 90s, starting with January of 1997 until the beginning of 2000.

The happiness of some memories can overwhelm me so much I fill up...I tried to rewatch Ally McBeal once but couldn't because my recollections of that original time are so sharp and joyful and wonderful that, contrasted with the hell that life feels like now, it just hurts too damn much. 

It's the weirdest thing: I've come to realize that I can rewatch the shows that got me through horrible times in the past with much delight, but I can't rewatch the shows that aired during times I was so full of life and hope (and something else I can't define) I floated off the ground.

To think that my flashbacks of the best of times sting so much more than my flashbacks of the worst of times...I just don't get that.

Thursday, September 18, 2025

I am left-leaning, but I am not anyone to fear. I've never protested (not that there's anything wrong with that) but I still feel passionately about so many things and now more than ever. 

Even so, I am genuinely terrified right now. I am more afraid than I have ever been and I find myself shutting up a lot, pretty much about everything except Golden Girls and my cat.

My cat is my best friend and my soulmate. I care about my family and my two close human friends and my coworkers. I go to work, the grocery store, the gas station and the dentist and eye doctor. Lately, though not often, I've started returning to the liquor store. I'm not adventurous nor bold. It's just who I am. I have never been one to raise a raucous unless I'm very hangry. My idea of wild is to actually have social plans, like going to the movies.

I consider myself part of the queer community, even though "queer" was considered a slur when I was growing up and the word still feels so wrong when I say it. I have never slept with anyone nor do I ever plan to, nor do I imagine anyone will or would ever want to with me. 

I'm asexual, which means I feel romantically and emotionally drawn to women when it comes to affection and relationships. But I do NOT hate men. I, in fact, think they are just as great as women and that no gender lays claim to cruelty or infidelity or "wrongness."

So to anyone who fears the left or thinks we are a threat to the world, this is all I have to say: a tired and broken heart is just not very scary.