This hotel’s pillow game is off point.
I feel like this has probably been said a lot throughout history. I can’t explain why. You agree. And you can’t explain why either.
I guess I’d better put this here before the announcement. Until somewhat recently, I struggled with thoughts of suicide. I never told anyone. Looking back, I can blame a lot of things and one person (if he can be called that), but it was my recent success that caused real problems. I had made a life out of dying. I ate more than I should have. Drank more than I should have, started abusing substances I shouldn’t have, got involved with people I shouldn’t have, did whatever I could to hurt myself without actually outright hurting myself. Because I fucking hated myself. Because that’s just how it was for me. And the success of the things I made opposed that. Tipped the scales, I guess. So the self-harm increased to match it. And I succeeded at keeping myself miserable. Until one day things got too good. I got on a plane (not this one), absolutely convinced it was going down. That’s another story. But it didn’t. And I had to accept that my life was going to be good whether I could accept it or not. Worse, I had to accept that it had always been mostly good. Well, starting around the age of 19. I stayed sad because I wanted to. Because it was what I knew. But I have now lived that 19-year-old’s life twice. Once through things he could not control, and once through things he could. And I guess I just got tired of hating myself. I got a lot of support online. Mostly because I begged for it through more attention whoring than should be legal, but I can forgive myself for that. For all of it, really. Because the universe and I have come to a sort of agreement. Now: why put this here, or anywhere? Well, somewhere at my core is a man who wants to help people. It’s why I taught. Why I helped people with disabilities. Why I was in the ministry until I lost my faith. Why I love being a father. And maybe someone else will read this, and see that even when you don’t want the darkness to end, it still sometimes does. Just on its own. I can’t explain it, and I don’t care to try. These days I’m happy to just accept it. But what I wish someone had told me some time ago is this: if you make it long enough, one day you’ll actually WANT to be happy. So make it long enough.
The guy at the ticketing counter asked where I was flying to. And I didn’t know the answer.
What kind of man owns three body pillows? This kind. I don’t get to see my own bed much these days. So when I do, I make it count.
ohhoe said: Are you coming to New York Comic Con in October?!
YOU KNOW IT.
Pretty much all cons ever from now on.
And if you know cons, you know there was no way some dude was getting into both ComiCons this year with a game that only came out one year ago.
Which should give some hint about the news I can’t break yet. :)
This just in, fuckers.
Uhm. Holy fuck. It is RAINING good Superfight news.
Still not over it.
Oh god damn it I knew I forgot something.
This is what happens when your mother is first generation mainlander from Hawaii, and your father is first generation American from Scotland. It’s like I’m made of fucking Kodak film, my skin reacts so quickly to sunlight.
She said her friend didn’t want to play on her server. She said that friend apparently didn’t like her anymore. She said that was her friend’s problem, because she isn’t changing. I told her one of the dumbest things a person can ever do is try to make someone like them. She said she remembered me telling her that a long time ago. And it struck me then that the way I want to raise this future woman is working. And it struck me how many adults still need this to stick.
The line to get to the Superfight table.
Rooftop party. It’s not a great picture, but we’re in rocking chairs and it’s an open bar. So.