Underneath my yellow skin

Category Archives: Relationships

When we talk about lo–death

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My post yesterday was about the third chapter of Schrödinger’s Call (Acrobatic Chirimenjako), a game that barring an absolute collapse/disaster in the final chapters, will most certainly be on my favorite games I played this year list at the end of the year. I don’t know why no one’s talking about it (I had written a whole thing about it being released at the same time as the highly-anticipated Hollow Knight: Silksong and having a similar score, but they weren’t released at the same time. Then I thought it was Mina the Hollower, but that’s not really the same time, either. I know I read an article about it because that’s why I looked up the game in the first place, but I can’t find the article) because it’s so damn good.

It really came and went with barely a ripple. The few reviews I could find (and caautiously skimmed the first few paragraphs) felt the same way about it tas I did. That it’s an emotionally affecting game that lies heavy on the heart. One even said that they had to take breaks while playing it, which is exactly where I’m at with it.

It’s interesting that my favorite game of the year may turn out to be one I can never play again. From the first moment I fired up the game until now (chapter three done, and a glimmer that I’m closing in on the end), I have played with a very heavy heart. I have not had this experience with a game before. Maybe a movie? I’m trying to think. Wait. Was there another game  I felt this way about? I want to say there is, but I can’t think of one.

I’m torn between if they should have just made this a graphic novel (which it essentially is) or if they should have tried to make the gameplay more engaging. I think giving how the strength of the game is the story, I would have bene ok with no gameplay. That’s hard to say, though, because I don’t usually play graphic novel games, so I don’t know if I would have tried this out if it were that. Then again, I might have because the review I read for it was so intriguing.

I have a unique perspective when it comes to death because I’ve already expreineced it. It’s strange, though, because I don’t remember dying (twice!). And, yes, that still a amuses me so I’ll continue to write it this way (twice!). I don’t remember it, obviously, and it’s still wild to me that it actually happened. It makes me think differently about death, though. Or rather, I have a different relationship to it now.

I wouldn’t say I’m friends with it, but I would say that I know it better than most people do. I would also ay that I would rather not talk about it. But I do ponder it from time to time. Not as much these dayys as before, but still.

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A somber look at my fifth re-birthday

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I’m still fucked up in my head about finding out my fake-hubby, Yutsy died last December. In addition, it’s my fifth re-birthday, so I’m meditative about that as well. It feels both much longer and much shorter than that. Simultaneously one year and ten years. I have some thoughts on that as well. Yesterday, I talked about Yutsy and how we became a thing. I want to talk more about that and what it means to me now.

I hadn’t talked to Yutsy in some time, but I knew he was having health issues of his own from the last time I talked to him. He was always in my heart because he is my fake-hubby! Where else was he going to be? We met on a political blog and clicked because we shared a wacky sense of humor, were queer, and a few other reasons. Mostly the queer thing, though. He was gay, and I’m bi. We both were passionate about advocating for our civil rights and pushing for equality.

I think we became fake-married during the debates asinine arguments fucking bullshit about marriage equality. During that time, I was mad a lot. Not only because we queers acutally had to debate our humanity, but that the bigots acted like the injured party when we weren’t as “civil” as they demeed proper. I can still remember a Vikings player mewling about how people should be respectful as we debated the issue. We could agree to disagree, blah, blah, blah. (And, yes, I remember who it was. I just don’t want to dignify his bullshit by naming him.)

It makes me see red when someone in the majority wants to tone police someone being actively hurt by their bigotry. They want to act as if they’re the aggrieved party when they’re the ones deny our humanity. I said at the time, “You want us to speak civilly to you while you do uncivil things to us” to highlight the hypocrisy. Oh, your feelings are hurt? Well, tough shit.

This bullshit has been thrown at minorities my entire life. “Yes, we’re doing atrocious things to you, but you raised your voice at us!” Tone policing has been used to put minorities in their place probably ever since time began, and I’m not having any of it.

Here’s the thing. There’s no argument that is good enough in their eyes to change their minds. Let’s take marriage equality since it’s coming under threat once again. (BIG sigh.)

Oh wait. Before I get into that, I wanted to say the other thing that really rankled me about the marriage equality debate–it wasn’t something I personally cared about. I realized in my early thirties that I did not want to get married and that I had many issues with it. Actually, it wsa earlier than that, but it was my early thirties that really solidified that marriage was maybe 972 on my list of things I gave a shit about.

What I do give a shit about, though, is equality. That’s probably in the top five if you were to press me about it on that same list (of things I give a shit about). If straight people can be miserable yoked to one other person, then queer people should be allowed to be just as miserable!

So it made me angry that not only were the bigots bigottng as hard as their bigoted hearts could bigot, but that I had to care about an issue (marriage) that I didn’t care about at all because it affected an isssue (equality), I did care about.

You can probably tell that I have many negative thoughts/feelings about marriage, at least as how it’s usually defined as in America. Monogamous one-to-one union of a man and a woman for their whole lives to the exclusion of all others.


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An elegy for my fake-hubby, Yutsy

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As I’m writing this, it’s my fifth re-birthday. Just. I should have declared my re-birthday to be the day I woke up from my week-long coma (which would be almost a week from now), but I chose my re-birthday as the night I literally died–twice!, and that’s right now. So, happy re-birthday to me. I have never cared for my actual birthday, but I’ve gone from hating it to being truly neutral about it.

My re-birthday, on the other hand? I’m all about it. I have nothing but the warmest feelings for it, and I loudly proclaim it when it comes around. Hell, why not?

That’s not what I want to talk about, though. I have a much more sobering post for today, but it’s related, somewhat, to my medical crisis.

I used to be a member of the Balloon Juice community (political website). This was before the Obama days, and into his first term. Maybe longer? I really liked most of the regular commenters, and it was a great place to talk to other lefties. I was still probably one of the most left-leaning as ideological, I am very far left. At heart, though, I’m a pragmatist. I would rather get half of what I want actually passed into law than nothing. To a certain extent.

One person had the ‘nym Yutsano, and we became fast friends. We were both queer (he was gay, and I was/am bi), had a very dirty sense of humor, and clicked on several levels. I called him Yutsy, and he called me wifey. He was gay, but as he said, who doesn’t like boobs? He praised mine to high heaven (likening them to pillows), which always made me laugh.

I don’t remember how we decided to get fake-married–probably as a way to protest the inanity of the whole marriage equality debacle, er, debate, but we had a great time with it. The whole site was in on it, and we brought another gay guy into our fake family. Yes, we were a fake-throuple before it became a thing.

Yutsy and I kept in contact after I drifted away from Balloon Juice (politics were starting to really weigh me down. Ironic given what’s happening now). Any time BJ’s proprietor posted a picture of his cat, Tunch (who was the blog’s mascot. I have merch with His Royal’s roundness on it), Yutsy would tell them that the proper authority had been notified (me) and then message me.

He was much better at keeping in touch than I was. I’m not good about it, especially since my medical crisis. He would reach out every now and again (three-to-six months), but I had not heard from him in much longer than that.

I gave up completely on Twitter when it became the social media platform formerly known as Twitter, and I barely used Facebook. I had a Bluesky, but I rarely checked there, either. In fact, after my medical crisis, I effectively gave up on social media. So if he wanted to reach me, it would be through FB. I did check my messages there, but that wasn’t how we normally communicated.


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Sex and dating, dating and sex, part eight

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I’ve decided that I want to do ten posts about this topic, so three to go. Why? Because. This is one way my neurodivergent brain works, by the way. It insists on making patterns when there aren’t any. I know that’s normal to some extent with everyone, but my brain does it to a bothersome degree. I know it’s going to happen at some point, but I’m powerless to stop it. It’s easier to go with it and let it wear itself out–or not. Some of my obsessions continue whereas others are left in the dust.

One thing I’m working on is being not ashamed about the weird way my brain works. Look. I know I’m a freak. I’ve known it since I was a kid, even if I could not articulate it. It’s interesting. There is someone in the Discord I’m in who is clearly neurodivergent and not at all interested in masking. Yes, it’s a ‘he’, which is significant. He has upset/offended several people in the Discord, including me because of the way he’s phrased things.

He likes to state his opinion as if it’s fact, and many of them are inflammatory. I’m not against it, but I also think that you should have some care as to the feelings of other people. It’s hard for me to say because I’m too much to the other side. As an AFAB, I was taught to always care about other people’s feelings first. That’s not good, either, but I do think there needs to be a balance.

It’s frustrating because this person, let’s call him Jack, makes me want to defend him on some occasions, not because I necessarily agree with his viewpoint, but because I don’t like groupthink. All groups have it, and this is not the worst at it, by far, but there is a slight stifling that goes on that I do not approve of.

There are times when I eye a conversation and decide not to wade into it. Sometimes, it’s because I’m not up for an argument, and sometimes, it’s because I know that my opinion is so out there, it’s not going to be welcomed. Therefore, I’m self-censoring, which is not ideal. It’s what I do much of the time, though.

I do envy Jack for not giving a shit about how he says things, but I also think he needs to think a bit. He tries to defend himself by saying it’s how he and his friends talk. Well, we’re not his friends. Also, that’s a bad excuse for being a jackhole. Even if it’s not deliberate, it’s still off-putting.

I don’t know where I draw the line between being yourself and being a jerk, but he goes well past that line. Also, again, it’s dudes who are allowed to be their authentic selves while women and AFAB people are more penalized for not fitting in.

In Jack’s case, it’s also because he’s mostly online and on the younger side. And he hangs out with people just like him (I’m guessing the predominance of them are guys, too). It’s easy to think if everyone around you thinks the way you do, everyone in general does as well.

People have been very impatient and brusque with him. Neurotypicals, I mean. Or more specificially, people who are not autistic (since autism and ADHD are different things). I can often see what Jack is trying to say, but do I want to defend him? Sometimes. Othertimes, he makes me angry, too. Especially when he talks as if he’s the authority on America (he’s not from this country and doesn’t live in it).


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Dating, sex, and tech, part seven

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Apparently, I have more to say about dating, sex, and tech. Techs in the city? Text in the city? Oh, wait. It’s Sex AND the City. Whatever. I never watched the showl/movie?/whatever, anyway. This is my post from yesterday in which I talk about what I thought was going to happen in my life versus what I really wanted to happen in my life.

Today, I had my Taiji Zoom class. It’s in the basement of a church that is like a concrete bunker. My teacher uses a headset so we online can hear her. Without fail, at some point, the connection goes out. We may be able to see her, but we can’t hear her. Or vice-versa. This is usually when she switches from using her headset to not using it, which she does after ne do meditation. She takes off the headset during meditation, which makes sense. For whatever reason, when plugging the headset back in, it totally disconnects her from the internet.

Sometimes, it’s because she accidentally hits a button on her headset. Other times, who knows? Tech is going to tech.

I will say on my end, I had a few months of frustration with my audio when attending the Zoom classes. It was after a Zoom update, of course. I fucking hate updates because for every positive update, there’s two to three unintended negative consequences. Also, I really don’t need updates every month. Maybe keep it to once a quarter.

Of course I want my computer to run as smoothly as possible, but I hate it when the negatives outweighs the positives. And it’s often the case of , “How the fuck do I return this to the way it was? Fuck if I know!”

By the way, I’m playing a game called, Birdigo, by John August and Corey Martin. They say it’s inspired by Wordle and Balatro; it’s simple and addictive. However, it would not accept the word ‘fuck’, which made me lift an eyebrow. Really? ‘Fuck’ isn’t in the dictionary? I was very disappointed by that.

Anyway, back to my computer issues. Suddenly, after a Zoom update, my audio did not work in Zoom. It worked just fine the week before. I fiddled with my settings, and they said that they could hear me, but I was extremely quiet.

The next week, I realized that I was somehow had two Zooms open. One was the app and one was the in-browser Normally, I used the in-browser, but it didn’t automatically come up like it used to. Now, it was the app that came up, but I didn’t use the app. Therefore, there was no audio through the app. The audio would only come through the browser.

This took two sessions to figure out. I checked it after class, and it was correct. I had no idea why the app was opening since I did not use the app and did not want to use the app. I only used the browser, but Zoom didn’t like that. It wanted me to use the app, probably so it could get my details.


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Dating and tech, part six

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Just when I thought I would have a tech issue-free day….I will say it was not anything big, nor, sadly was it unexpected. It was just my internet deciding to go out for a minute. For no reason. It does this once every few weeks. Sometimes, it’s the internet actually going out for a minute. Other times, it’s just my computer decided not to be connected. The latter is infinitely more frustrating and annoying because if my connection is good, then I should be able to internet.

Fortunately, it usually clears up in a few minutes, and today was no exception.

Let’s talk more about dating! As I have talked about in past, the one thing I appreciate the older I get is that I have a firmer idea of what is acceptable in a partner and what isn’t. It’s interesting to me how different it is for me than it is for most normies.

When I was a kid, I thought I’d grow up, gett married, and have children. Happily ever after and the rest of our lives, etc. To death do us part and all that jazz. It didn’t fill me with joy, but I was indoctrinated brought up to believe that it was the only path for a young woman. It wasn’t even implicit–my mother flat out said that the job of a woman was to have children. When I told her I didn’t want them, she said it didn’t matter what I wanted–it was my duty. She straight up said it!

I was twenty-two when I realized that I didn’t want them. So hard. Like, it was the thing I wanted least in the world. Me dying twice and coming back? Preferable to having children. Of course, I did come back, so that makes me biased, but still. It was such a relief to realize I didn’t actually have to have children, no matter how much my mother pressured me to do so.

Here’s my post from yesterday in which I talked more about my tech issues than anything else. Look. I live online. If I can’t access my computer, it’s a big deal. Yes, I’m very lucky that I have a laptop and a desktop so I can go to one if the other isn’t working, but I prefer doing some stuff on my desktop and some stuff on my laptop, so I highly prefer both to be working.

Around the same time I realized I did not want children, I also discovered that I was sexually attracted to women. And now, to people of any or no gender. Gender doesn’t matter. We like to say race is a construct, and so is gender. That’s not what this post is about, though, so I’ll move past that with dificulty.

Let’s talk about now. I am tired. I’m tired of the hatred of my LGBTQ+ kinfolk, and I just don’t have the will to deal with it any longer. Which means–no cishetdudes for me. It’s too much like all the isms 101, and I don’t have the patience for that. I mean, I never have, but it’s really gone now.


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More about dating…and tech issues, part five

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Day three? Four? Something like that of tech issues. This time, it’s completely self-inflicted, which doesn’t make it any less frustrating. In fact, it’s more frustrating because why the hell did I do that? If only I hadn’t done that! Here’s what happened.

A couple days ago, I accidentally kicked my PC tower. Hard. It was fine, but I had to make sure all the cables were plugged in firmly. They seemed to be, and all was well. Today, suddenly, my PC stopped working. Just out of the blue. I immediately deduced that it had something to do with the accidental kick I had given the PC tower a few days ago.

I checked cables. All seemed fine. I checked the power strip. Also seemed fine. I unplugged it and replugged it in, and then I turned it off and on again. It was all fine. It was late at night (for normies), so I didn’t want to call my brother. I knew that he went to bed by eleven/midnight, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to fix the issue. Though I had a hunch that he would know what it was.

I did some more hunting around to see what I might have missed. I finally realized that I was looking at the wrong cord when I was checking out the  power cord. The actual power cord had come unplugged on the PC tower side, so I plugged it back in. Did that take care of the problem? Yes! My computer booted up, and it was fine. Except.

Why wasn’t my second monitor working? I futzed with the settings, but my computer said that the second monitor was not available. What the hell? I was mad at myself for kicking my PC,  even though it was an accident.

I checked the cable on the back of my second monitor, and the other end was unplugged. I knew it had to go into my PC tower, but I had no idea where. By the shape of the cable, I only seemed to have one option. I plugged it in, but it wasn’t the one. I Googled it, and it said not to plug into the HDMI at the top of the PC tower, but to use the port that was lower. I could not see another HDMI port, but I knew there had to be one.

I got onto the ground with my phone (as my flashlight), and I found the right HDMI port. Finally! Everything was back to the way it should be. Except. About five minutes later, several YouTube videos started playing at the same time. I had about a hundred tabs open in roughly thirty different bunches. I had to quickly go through them to find the ones that were playing. Of course, it was nearly the last bunch that was the culprit, so I got rid of almost all my YouTube tabs. It doesn’t bother me because I’m sure I’ll have a hundred open again in no time flat.


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Sexy times (or not), part four

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I’m back to talk more about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be. Is that the lyrics? It’s close enough. I don’t feel like Googling it. I like the song, though, and I may include it as the video below. I loved that Salt-N-Pepa were so frank and open about sex in 1991. And from a female point of view in rap. I have to give them props for being pioneers, and I’m so happy that they made the Hall of Fame.

You know what? They have a song I like even better than Let’s Talk About Sex. It’s not Shoop, though that’s a great song, too. Nor Whatta Man ft. En Vogue (also a terrific song). It’s None of Your Business, and I found a video of them doing it live on the Jon Stewart (!) show. I love that they’re telling off everyone who scolds women (and, yes, specifically women) for having casual sex and those who are harsh on sex workers.

I love that they are sex-positive and very unapologetic about it (at least in their music). There were very few female rappers and DJs at that time (and still, sadly). Their songs are catchy, and their hit with En Vogue is truly something special. I loved seeing that many badass (and hot) women strutting their stuff.

Here is my post from yesterday in which I wandered all over the place talking about whatever came to mind as it pertained to sex or technology.

Here is something about sex that I don’t get–why I’m supposed to feel guilty about enjoying it. I grew up in a very restrictive, shaming, fundamental Evangelical household that made it seem like having sex outside marriage was a Mortal Sin tthat would cast my soul into Hell for all eternity. Especially for women. That’s a very important part of the shaming process. Making sure the woman feels like she’s total trash if she has sex.

Only before marriage, mind. Once he puts a ring on it, then the heavens part, angels come down to sing Hallelujah, and then you get immediately pregnant. That’s the only reason to have sex in the eyes of the devout.

I was fed that bullshit all my childhood. When I was dating in my late teens/early twenties, I had what I bagan to call everything-but–meaning anything that fell technically short of actual penis in vagina. This was a known thing In fact, I didn’t do this, but it became a well-known Christian thing for girls to have anal sex as a way to avoid giving up their vaginal virginity. Which, I mean….

Side note: virginity is not a real thing, anyway. It’s just a thin piece of skin that not every AFAB person even has, and there are so many ways for it to break. In addition, it’s such an antiquated way of looking at sex–and so sexist. So many young women thinking they were ruined or broken just because that little piece of skin was no longer there.


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Sexy times in my future? (Part three)

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Sex. Dating. I have more thoughts on this, but before I get there, I want to touch a bit more on technology and when it doesn’t work. Facebook rolled out the encryption in chat thing, and because I cleared my cache, it now won’t recognize me in one specific chat–the only one I use on a regular basis. (With my bestie, K.) I did what I could to try to access the almost year’s worth of messages I can’t get, including ones from this week, but in the end, I gave up.

I followed all the tutorials telling me how to get it. I finally was able to use the code to get into the chat, and a portion of the messages were still missing. That’s when I realized that it wsas Meta being Meta (ughhhhhhhh), so I mentally  shrugged and moved on. I was still irritated, mind, but what could I do about it?

Back to dating. Here’s my post from yesterday in which I talk about dating–and technology.

I am flummoxed when it comes to dating because gender is such an anathema to me. Being queer, many of the hetero norms just don’t matter to me. I mean, they probably wouldn’t even if I were straight, but they’re truly meaningless. When you have two people (or more) of the same gender (or different varying genders), the old rules for hets don’t make any sense. In fact, when you look at the norms through queer lenses, so many of them fall by the wayside.

As a girl/woman, I heard the following: “Don’t ask a boy out. Let him do the asking.” “Let the guy pay.” “Don’t ever beat a guy in–” well, anything, really. So many of the rules for women were to make yourself as small as possible and not take up any noticeable room. Cater to the guy’s needs/desires/sensibilities, and don’t you dare have any needs of your own.

Don’t be high maintenance. Don’t be needy. Don’t eat anything too _________ fill in the blank with anything but salad. Oh, and don’t offer to pay. Apparently, that’s emasculating.

It all boiled down to, “Be a living, breathing doll who has no opinions of her own.”

Even if I could do all that (and I couldn’t), why the fuck would I want to? I read The Rules when it came out because I wanted a laugh. Instead, I was horrified by how antiquated the advice was (and it was a runaway best seller), and the last sentence sent a chill down my spine. It was something like, “And the rules don’t end once you get married because you have to put in the work to keep the man who’s biggest benefit is that he’s breathing.” That’s paraphrased, yes, but it was that sentiment.

I remember thinking, “Oh, great. I never get a breather?”

By the way, when the next edition or the sequel came out, there was a note stating that one of the authors got a divorce. That made me laugh uproariously as I admired her chutpah.


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Let’s talk (more) about sex, baby! (Part two)

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Let’s talk more about dating in the Year of Everything Sucks, 2026. I’m only being slightly facetious, but, let’s just say that I’m about getting some because the world is on fire and we make not make it to 2030. If the world is going to end, I would like to at least get laid one more time on so I can go out with a smile on my face.

Side note: I just did spent an hour having to deal with a frustrating issue of my own making (tech issue). It’s something that I had a hard time  finding an answer to, even though  I didn’t think it would be that difficult. It was a pretty straightforward mess (again, of my own making), and I could not imagine that I was the only person to have issues with it.

Here’s the thing about tech issues, though. If you know what the problem is and have a shrewd idea of how to go about solving it, finding the particular solution is easy. The problem I had should have been easy to find a solution to because I could describe it succinctly. I even had an idea of what I had to do to fix it, but I could not find the specific way of doing so.

I even called my brother (apologizing because it was late for him), but he was going to bed so he did not have access to his computer. He told me what I needed to find (which was what I thought I needed to do, just not sure where to find it specifically).

In the end, I was able to clear up the mistake (I think), but then had to do something completely different to get back to what I had originally. That took me over an hour total, and it was so frustrating. Tech is great! Until it’s not.

Actually, this all started because I was trying to log into OKCupid (which is relevant to today’s post). I could not get in, so I cleared the cache in order to see if that was the problem. No, it wasn’t. That led to my bad choice that led to me wasting an hour of my life looking for a solution.

Ahem. I found out that if you don’t use your profile in OKCupid in two years, they get rid of it. That’s why I could not sign in. I started signing up for another profile, but then I just got tired. That’s how I often get when it comes to things like that. I am super low-energy, especially when it comes to doing things I consider distasteful. Making a dating profile falls under that category.

Anyway! Back to my sleeping hapbits. I do not like cuddling as I sleep, and I’m very self-conscious about how loudly I snore. I finished the last post by talking about that very topic, so let’s keep going.


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