Underneath my yellow skin

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NaNoWriBooooooooo

I am writing a rom-com.

That sounds very normal, doesn’t it? Many people write rom-coms. Badly, but they write them.

I am writing a mystery. That is even more common. Many people write mysteries, and some of them are really very good.

I am writing them in the same novel. This is where it gets weird. There are comedic mysteries such as written by Carl Hiassen. Zany, I think you’d call his mysteries (I haven’t read one in ages, though). Mashing all three together, though, I can’t think of anyone off-hand who has done that.

Here’s the thing about the way I write (and how I know if it’s a good idea). I start with an idea. In this case, queer romance. I was talking to a friend online as to how dhifferent queer romance is from straight romance. There seems to be more room for different ways of relating with each other for queers than for straights.

I will preface by saying that queer people have, in the past, certainly, if not now, had to be circumspect in finding each other. Also, there are simply much less of us than of straight people. If you take the 10% number as being roughly true–huh. Apparently, it’s 7.1%, but that is double what it used to be and it’s because of Gen Z. 21% of them identify as queer!

That brings joy to my heart–that the youngers are more open to diversity than my generation (the invisible Gen X). Straight dudes are hurt by patrairchy, too. Buying into the idea that there is only one way to do romance–monogamy and sex has to be accompanied by love. Straight women, too, I think, but not as much as straight men.

Here’s the thing. When you’re already on the fringes, it’s not a stretch to think that maybe there are even more things you can do. And with smaller communities, you may not necessarily be able to walk away from an ex as cleanly as in the straight world. Plus, if you like the person enough to be with them, maybe you can still be friends after? This doesn’t seem like it’s a completely out there idea.

In addition, there doesn’t have to be such a strict delineation between friend and partner. There’s a term in queer communities called queerplatonic. It’s a committed relationship with a friend that is similar to a romantic relationship without the romance. I feel like I have that with my two besties. I am as committed to them as I would be to a partner, and I know they feel similarly about me.


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Pumping myself up

It’s almost NaNoWriMo. I can’t believe it’s been just over two years since I died twice and came back. Oooooh! Halloween is in a few days. Perfect time for some spookiness. The problem is that what I find scary is not what other people find spooky. I don’t count jumpscares beacuse that’s just a physiological response. It’s weird to me that other people are so freaked out by them. Or by a face showing upn in a window.

I feel like a weirdo that I am completely oblivious to those kinds of scares. In the RKG streams/spooky games, people always joke about how Krupa is stone cold. He said in this stream that he had feelings! Everyone chuckled. In his case, he’s just not physically and overtly expressive. In my case, I really don’t feel it.

It’s like my cat, Shadow. Most cats freak out over vacccum cleaners and thunderstorms. Shadow does not. But he’s had nightmares that have woken him up and made him run around the room. Then he’ll settle back in his bed and eventually fall back asleep. I feel that so hard. He does not care about your fake scares, people! He has real demons to fight.

He lived through something that should have killed him. It was an urinary infection, and the vets told me that he probably wasn’t going to make it. This was when he was six. I waited all Friday for the news, and I had prepared myself to have my heart broken. The vet already asked me what I wanted to do if it came down to making the decision. I said to put him to sleep because I did not want him to suffer. When she called, my heart was in my throat as I was ready for her to say it was time to let him go.

When she said he reached the number he needed to reach and was fine, my brain shut down. I had been steeling miself for the bad news; I did not know how to accept the good. I went to get him, and I was told to take him home and keep him sequestered for a few days, but that was it. That was elevenn years ago. He’s been right as rain since then.

His brother, Raven, suddenly died seven years ago. I can still remmeber the horrible night. Afterwards, Shadow was inconsolable for six months. We were grieving together, and I don’t know what I would have done without him. After my medical crisis, he became a different cat. When he was little, he only liked me (as far as humans go). When he first met Ian eight or so years ago, Shadow instantly took to him. But we were the only two humans he completely accepted.

After my medical crisis, Shadow became loving towards all humans. He completely lost his fear of them, and I wonder if it’s in part because he saw them working on me while I was passed out on in the front hallway.


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