Just for fun, Uncategorized

Since I’ve Been Gone!

Okay all, here’s the good word!

I’ve been undergoing a loooot of personal development over the last few…. lifetimes. I’ve grappled back and forth with depression and various other issues, only to realize the fact of the matter is that I am Transgendered and most of my self-negativity comes from the fact that I have had to bury that for years.

I came out as a teenager and was met with some pretty radical social ostracization , as well as being sent to highly antagonistic counseling where the question was what made me “sick” and focused on trying to “cure” me before cooperating with transition goals.

Needless to say, I didn’t last long.

But after another 8 years of hiding it, I simply couldn’t and can’t anymore! So it’s on record that I am indeed Trans and intend to transition completely.

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So, there are some changes that come with it, including me being told again and again that if I’m not regularly blogging about it I’m doing some sort of disservice to the community as a whole. So, You can start expecting at least a short post every weekend (hardly scheduled yet, but I’ll get there).

Second, I figured out how to make my novel outstanding! For those who don’t recall, it’s a Crime drama with a supernatural twist. Except now, the supernatural is not the twist. The Hero’s Journey into the hidden world will now parallel his own journey in coming out and transitioning. There are a looot of themes that play into this throughout the story that I’ll probably go over once I start writing the final pre-revision draft.

Lastly, I’ve realized exactly what I need to do to leave the world better than I found it, and that is encouraging Transgendered people and people who otherwise deal with a ton of self-doubt and negativity and social stress to become the best version of themselves?

How do I aim to achieve this? Well, I hope that my personal insight can help to increase the impact to the audience of protagonist James-to-Jane Del within my novel.

The long-term version of this goal is still to complete the trilogy, and keep the protagonist’s gender a major part of the arc which will affect their interactions with what are currently very plain antagonists, and create a small body of work that people of any background can appreciate and relate to.

But, more immediately, I am going to become a personal trainer (a goal I’ve had for years, but lacked the confidence to pursue) and spend some time working towards building a clientele of people who suffer from body or gender dysmorphia, social anxiety, depression… people who are otherwise too intimidated to go to a gym. I want to become a trainer who works specifically with people who, like me until recently, are willing to let their mental and physical health dwindle because it’s just “too hard” to maintain it. The fact that I was finally able to get past that road block in this significant way tells me that others can too, and I want to make it happen!

The long-term version of this goal is to start my own safe-space gym where people of any background who simply don’t want to deal with the average gym rat can come to train without worrying about who they are, what they wear, how hard they can push themselves. We are all at different places, in different spaces, and I believe a gym that specifically reaches out to those who don’t believe in themselves.

My longest-term goal of multimedia publishing should be aided by both of these things. Everyone has a story to tell, and there are plenty of media through which to tell it! I’d like to see myself become a hub for people to share their stories with pride instead of shame, confidence instead of fear, and to become the type of person who may or may not be famous, but still manages to change lives all the same.

So, there it is! The situation as it stands, preparing to move forward.

If you’d like to donate to the cause, you can click here. I’m asking for $500. Whatever overage is left after I pay for my certification will go into building a clientele of people who need the type of help I offer. The link shares more details on that particular goal as well as my personal story.

If you can’t donate, I appreciate any shares, mentions, or whatever else you can do to help me leave this world a little better off than it is now!

Comment, follow, whatevs! I’ll be updating the blog more often. You can expect to read about martial arts, gender perspectives, whatever work I have time to do on the novel (mostly gonna be in summer 2016, I think), and other blogs that I’m loving the crap out of!

Thanks everyone for your support!

-JPA

 

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daily, Exercise in, Style, technical skill

The Daily Five

What exactly is this practice and why does it matter?

The daily 5 is a writing exercise wherein you spend 5 uninterrupted minutes writing every day. The point is to get your brain juices flowing to help with creativity.

But you know what else?  It makes you a better writer. Doing your daily 5 is like doing any other practice for any other skill. It refines technique and reveals the greater overarching concepts in your writing. Sometimes it’s themes or motifs; sometimes it’s just repeated grammatical errors. In any case, if you write in any capacity, doing 5 minutes per day will especially help. There are tons of prompts, ideas, and goal-oriented variations of the daily 5. Pick one and do it! Get writing!

And that’s my daily five. Stay tuned! Later today there’s a special video coming online that I’ll share here. And thenceforth, the paradigm shift will have begun!

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Exercise in, Flash Fiction, Just for fun, Style, Under 500

A Student Talks to an English Major

“Dude, holy crap!”

“What? Everything alright?”

“I just saw that new RDJ movie! It was incredible!”

“Yeah, he’s always on point with his acting. And Robert Duvall? Forget about it. What more could you demand in a film?”

“I knoooooow! The feels!”

“Feelings.”

“There were so many points where I just felt like crying… It was awk.”

“Awkward.”

“And somebody had a laser pointer, I guess for the lulz.”

“Laughs.”

“OMG! I’ll BRB! GTG get summa dat BBQ.”

“… Friendshp over.”

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Flash Fiction, Just for fun, Over 500

Is She Joking?

“So, how are you feeling now?” The doctor stared down her nose at the patient.

“I don’t understand the question,” the towering blonde replied.

“You’ve been on medication for six weeks now. Do you feel better?” She eyed the man, slumped down into his chair, and began to scribble something on her clipboard.

“I don’t… know… I haven’t been able to feel since I began taking these things,” The man’s Norse-like dreadlocks kept him company. He twisted them back and forth between his palms, tightening the locks one by one. “What are you writing?”

She stopped mid-stroke and looked back to the man. “Nothing bad; don’t worry.” She put the clipboard in her top drawer and folded her lanky fingers neatly into each other. “Tell me about your lack of feeling.”

 

He took a look around. When he first came into the office weeks prior, he’d noticed the solid black frames holding pictures of Greek mythology, painted on period vases, probably from a museum exhibit. He’d notice there were lilies and sunflowers on the short table behind her.

Her thick Russian accent charmed him, as did her hard jaw and set facial features. Her curvature matched what he imagined for his ideal woman. And she had proper style to accent it. Even her soft white scarf managed to draw attention to her sculpted frame.

Rich Corinthian leather covered the soft, marshmallow-esque cushions of the couch. The chairs designated for clients had an interesting cross-hatch – more a weave. The material had escaped him but the thing that stuck out was the patterning… Five colors of thread blended seamlessly together to create a single shade of cloth. The first time, he’d stared at that pattern for a full minute before she forced him to engage.

It had been an exciting and promising moment that he’d hope would lead to a better future.

 

Now, he saw some pictures. There were flowers in room. Their fresh-cut aroma made no impact. The couch… eh, black is always a safe color. The psychiatrist, she seemed pretty hot but he didn’t notice anything particularly outstanding. When he tried to focus on the chair, his vision blurred. He no longer saw the individual threads. Everything just seemed duller than it once was. And he didn’t care. And he didn’t care that he didn’t care. And it pissed him off to no end.

“I can’t… I reach for words and they disappear. The thoughts are in my brain but, they’re scrambled. It’s easy to lose it. I’m just not as sharp as I was.”

“You’re also not as depressed. Now you can join the rest of the world and experience life as you should. Isn’t that worth anything?”

Who the fuck are you to tell me how I should experience life? What’s the point of being normal? Why would anyone want to sacrifice their ability to communicate, to articulate, to see reality… just to feel” normal”?

He tried to argue with her. All he could muster was a grunting “uh-huh.”

“Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Isn’t this an improvement from being unable to move from your bed for weeks at a time?”

Not even close, bitch. It’s like imprisoning my mind in a body that disagrees. I’m trapped in this bullshit and I can’t even feel how shitty I feel.

“I have no opinion on life now. It’s just… I feel…” he struggled to find the word. It was somewhere in his brain. He’d thought it before he spoke but, somewhere between brain and mouth, it disappeared.

“How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

Of course not. I thought that was pretty fucking obvious, myself.

                “No.”

“What is it?” Her gaze softened. He wasn’t sure if she meant to play him into opening up or had become genuinely concerned.

“I can’t say. It’s up here,” he tapped his skull. “It’s definitely here,” he patted his left breast, his heart. “I just can’t figure out how to make it come out.”

“Just say it?” She politely offered.

I fucking can’t goddamnit. You’ve killed my ability to do that with your stupid fucking rope… er… pills. Wait… What?

“The words… they don’t make it. I want to be frustrated but I can’t. I mean, I am, but my body isn’t. It’s like some kind of reverse… the… the body works. The brain just can’t make it.”

The gravity of her concern escalated. She leaned forward, causing him to emulate the motion. “That doesn’t make any sense, Val.”

“I know. That’s the point. I’m just cloudy and useless in this state,” he places his forearms on her desk and his head fell into their soft comfort.

“I can’t eat, I can’t shit, I can’t interact the way I normally do. People are abandoning me, I’m a different person and it’s all because of this fucking medication.”

“You can find new friends, people who would abandon you for…”

“For having a drastic change in… fuck!” he slammed his fists on the desk and beat his head into his arms. “It’s… Goddamnit! It’s how you act, who you are, that whole thing.” Thumb and forefinger clamped on the bridge of his nose as he struggled to find the words buried in his mind.

“Personality?”

“I’m just constantly frustrated and exhausted and I’m not the same person. Or I am. I can’t tell. I am inside. But does it matter? I can’t show my inner self anymore. I feel like a zombie.”

The doctor snickered at herself for a moment.

“What?”

“It’s nothing…” she stifled herself.  “Just that..”

“Out with it!” he demanded.

“I just think zombies are pretty good at showing their insides.”

 

 

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flash fiction

Do We Even Matter?

Says one man to another. The compact  glass elevator has broken down between the 95 and 96th floor. ” Does anyone care that we are up here?”

“The guy on the intercom said they were working on it,” the fellow reminds. He brushes his bushy grey moustache with a wisp of his fingers.

The younger man, a recently hired engineer posits no one is helping them. “Do you see workers aiding us?” 

” It’s probably a technician in the basement.”

“Can’t they at least update us?”

“We’ll know when the elevator is working.”

The stranger pats a brass handrailing and gazes at himself in the mirror. 

The younger man melts into the corner, he is preparing to sleep for the first time in days.

“I just want to know I matter.”

“You matter to me,” the older man laughs. “I’d die of boredom if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. Real helpful.” The engineering rubs his eyes and traces a circuit diagram from memory. 

The gent is mesmerized for a moment. “Stay awake, friend. I need the company.”

His head tilts to the side; round wire-framed glasses fall to the floor. The elevator light dims and the people fade away. The glass appears almost frosted and the smell of smoke all but overpowers him. Worse is the heat of what could only be called superfire. The rubble of a monolith weighing down on the tiny car in such a precarious fashion, the engineer had already given up

His eyes droop shut and the man tries one more time. “Hey buddy, you gotta stay awake. This thing isn’t looking too good…”

“The… Wha?” The engineer’a hand stops tracing. For a moment he is paralyzed. But he quickly goes limp, then blackness follows.

An electronic pulse brings him back from the darkness. The medical machines attached seem simple enough. He checks for all his limbs. “One, two, three, four…” A deep inhale and one more spot to check. “Five. Thank God.” He sighs heavily and hits the bed. 

The doctor comes in a few minutes later. She explains that the building was attacked by an alien warcraft of all things.

“You must have a guardian angel. You had four pieces of rebar in you and… Well the medical term is a ‘crapload’ of glass throughout your torso and legs.”

The kid ran his fingers through his hair. The gesture calmed his mind

 His mental clarity increased as he became aware of the medicated haze blocking his mind.

“What about the older guy? Did he survive?”

“Listen, there were a lot of bodies here today. More specific.”

“Damnit man, the guy who was I’m the elevator with me!”

The doctor paused a split-second before snapping at the man. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at him, almost like a curious dog.

“Sir, you were the only one in the elevator.”

“No way. This guy wouldn’t leave me alone. grey moustache? Pakistani guy maybe?” 

“Sir, your brain probably just created him as a coping mechanism. It happens, especially to people who have fears of dying alone.”

“Oh..” the engineer ponders. “The brain can do that?”

She works on his chart seemingly oblivious to his oresence,”Yep.”

“Oh…wild.”

“Yeah,” she looks up and gleams a smile. “Its cool, isn’t it? I’ll be back to check on you in fifteen minutes!”

She strides out of the room a proud lionness in charge of her life. He lies in a bed, unable to do anything but watch tv. Then he remembers that actually attacked and he’d much rather experience it vicariously from this point on.

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Exercise in, Style, Under 500

Why Bother?

Okay, y’all. I’m going to call this “Why Bother?” It’s an “initiative” I guess… the idea here is that I get exhausted by the plethora of people who question my every action, decision, ideal, moral, or whatever else they don’t understand. So, I’m just writing a blurb about why I bother with something people ask about. 95% of my facebook friends won’t see this but, it doesn’t matter. I’m doing it anyway because this is the internet and YOU CAN’T STOP ME! MUAHAHAHAHA!

Now, on the facebook version, I tagged a bunch of people… taking for granted that everyone on WordPress is a writer to some degree, this is a call to action for all of you. If you read this, please like and/or comment to let me know if you will be writing about something you’re driven towards. I’d like to make sure I read those!

 

Without further ado…

 

I don’t need a flat stomach; I need a strong core.
I don’t need to be big; I need to be powerful.
I don’t need to win the fight; I need to end the conflict.
I don’t need to change others, I need to change myself
I don’t need perfection; I need progress.

I practice Aikido because before I ever studied it, it had been established along the path I sought. I practice Aikido because it’s impossible for me to do without finding a way to improve. I practice Aikido because the art takes problems and creates solutions. The Aiki mind is never stumped, for there is always another way. The Aiki spirit is never trumped, as there is always progress to be made. The Aiki practitioner can only be defeated by the self and that is the central struggle we all face. Aikido leads the person you are to the person you will become and, if you are mindful, that person will become exactly who you intended.

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Exercise in, Flash Fiction, Style, Under 500

Untitled exercise in style

As always, there must be at least one new piece constructed daily. Here’s this. After reading through it, I think my next challenge will be to write a piece that only uses words of 4 or more letters.

Though style and flavor and sounding like a pretentious academic were the goal of this exercise, there is also the underlying reality. You can’t let society be content – not because we can always do better, but because we can always do worse. Evolution is forward, not upward. We can push ourselves into extinction and we have already out-lasted most species’ time on this Earth. IMHO, we are not collectively intellectual enough to beat our own extinction.

I doubt anyone is here to read about my views on the self-destructive nature of the human race. Instead, read this. If you think to yourself “Pretentious, self-righteous garbage,” then I succeeded in my exercise. If you think to yourself “Good point,” then I succeeded in… point-making.


The fraternal design of academic society consistently deters me from maximal potential. Beneath the facade of education lay the purest essence of self-destruction.

Social competition leads these imbecilic sheep to forget that a university is meant as a place of study, to achieve unrivalled mastery in a field of production. Society creates nothing but petty oppositional conflict for no better reason, no higher purpose.

Do you not see the strain your unwillingness to look past your need to belong creates? Can you not see that getting through school is not the same as succeeding? That passing a course does not equate to learning its curriculum?

When social interaction dictates success, true knowledge becomes a burden and the few who seek it bear the immense weight of our entire species on feeble shoulders. Has history taught you nothing? Did you not realize Atlas would fall?

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