she/her :) I acknowledge my flaws, which in a way shows my perfection. Pfp by @saturn-rays
99 posts
Latest Posts by katindeed - Page 4
I have nothing to add I just like ace attorney and snapcube
time for a silly post (I say as if my posts hadn't been silly for the past month)
fans of the sonic snapcube dubs will recognize these, but if you don't recognize these, just imagine these lines are ace attorney canon. thank you
writing and transness my two favorite worldly desires.
I don’t know why I always gravitate back to writing about being trans. On one hand it is quite the unique and different experience and I would add it’s fair to say it’s pretty all encompassing in my life whether I like it or not but it’s not like I don’t have anything else in my life to write about. I could write about my weird need to be independent or how differently I act by myself versus with even my closest companions. I do try to write about those things but then I get distracted and before I know it a week has passed but something weird happens when I write about being part of this strange little group. I’m able to let the words just flow out and almost nothing could distract me from finishing. If I had to guess why this happens I would presume it’s because of how inescapable it has felt in this point of life. I’ve barely just completely grasped my transness about a year ago (though I've been questioning since 10) and I’ve only really toyed with my name which didn’t take long considering I’ve always been weirdly drawn to the name Katherine. Recently for the first time I've had good enough friends I can tell and they’ve been wildly helpful yet still I feel as if I haven’t had enough initiative in a year of fully accepting myself. For make-up I’ve tried lip-stick once when my family were somewhere for a few days and I’ve been doing my nails more frequently but that's about it. I shave my face almost everyday to keep it at bay, but I don’t really have the tools for shaving anywhere else. And for clothes I have done zilch. It’s not like I haven’t done these things out of lack of effort, it's just hard to do them when in a packed house, when in constant fear, and having a lack of expendable income in a slew of more important expenses. With all this writing is my way to express these feelings I can’t in daily life. I’ve never been adequate at drawing and while I have been doodling more, I don’t think I care to really put a ton of work into it. So with the physical medium out of the way that leaves words. I’ve always been very creative with a lot of thoughts yet I’ve never had a great way to express it. I always thought I hated writing. Always forced to write a long drawl of something I truly feel passionless for. The odd free writes were always fun but the piles of essays and grammar mistakes were always there to make sure I always hated writing. Thank the stars, that recently for the first time I had a teacher who made me realize the joy that can come from writing when you care. Sadly that was last year's teacher but the essays don’t feel as grueling to get through and when we’re doing a paragraph on occasion they feel fun. Now with both these discoveries of late, both from last year interesting enough, I have been going through a bit of a change in how i am. For the first time in my life there is a very clear goal to why I should keep going to get out of this house. 1) so I can be who I want to be 2) so I can write. I've promised myself at the very least I’ll try to get myself there. No matter the obstacle no matter the strife I have to try because in the end memento mori.
Trans visibility day you know what that means
+10 bragging rights
-15 TRANSparency
*laughs to self*
wow more writing practice this time about my dislike for AI
One thing I’ve had to grapple with during this surgence of AI is that not everyone wants to be an artist or creative. I’ve always just assumed people take other jobs to sustain themselves, but truly many if not most people don’t want to do something creative with their life or leave any sort of lasting impact. Most people just want to enjoy life to the fullest or at the very least just survive. My understanding as art being the ultimate dream is my own experiences clouding my judgment. Despite this art still defines our culture an insane amount along with being a representation of the times. As silly as it is to say stuff like “Seinfeld” reveals us a look into 90s culture just as a more seriously taken art piece like the “Merchant of Venice” can give us a look into the late 1500’s/early 1600’s. Most importantly to me it’s an expression and a look into a part of the human experience. AI is more or less a pattern machine. It takes what it's been fed and finds patterns to make something ““new””. There is no motivation behind what it’s doing. No need to scratch a creative itch or want to share and express one's life. It does what it does because it was told to. With this realization it not only delegitimizes the point of art but also shows that in the end these soul crushing recent events comes not from the AI but still the greed of the richest amongst us (I swear to god if I get one comment about that stupid game) and the misunderstanding of art by business people. Even if AI art was just as good as a lot of human art, it is not, it still betrays the very core of what art is. Despite what the CEOs of the biggest media companies may think, art is not just entertainment but an important part of the human condition. Of course for the many creatives in every corner of the world but also for everyone in between. More than likely you’ve seen a piece of art that's connected with you. It’s shown a part of you or your experiences that you may have not been able to explain or maybe it’s made you feel for someone in the story evil or good, personal or universal. Isn't that kind of amazing. That us humans’ empathy sense is so strong that even to a character we know isn’t real we can still have an emotional reaction as big as crying or laughing or tensing up or whatever. AI has none of this. It is not a being capable of emotion, free will, or expression. We can not allow these old greed bags to take more from us than they already have. We can not have tech bros decide our culture. We can not have the representation of our culture be made by an emotionless, moralless, and uncreative being incapable of moving things forward. Only by taking the old and rehashing just enough to seem distinct enough. Some may say that humans themselves have no originality but I disagree with our distinct ways of taking old formats and archetypes, then mixing, adapting, and changing the very foundation of the original work. We are not a pattern machine but a remixing artists that take many different ideas and motifs, add a bit of our own likes and experiences and make something wholly distinct from its inspirations. Don't let any billionaire tech bro tell you differently.
A little vent I did with a bit of a happy ending (don't worry btw it's just nice to write about it)
I look into the mirror, and a tight knot is tied into my stomach. A bubbling starts in the depths of my gut and crawls up my body into my chest. It was very similar to how I felt when I got car sick on summer road trips as the feeling of throwing up grew inside me. The big difference is that it’s much more concentrated and there's a lower likelihood of throwing up. Much lower but not none. There was the obvious fact I’m quite fat or “chubby” if you didn’t want to be too blunt about it. Maybe I could deal with that if it was distributed more femininely, but I guess it makes sense why it wasn’t. My stomach bulged out, and the fat pushed out the side, messing up my back as well. There’s a unique torture in understanding you’re trans but not being able to do something about it. You have a need you can not fill. A hunger while the apple’s branch pulls upward every time you reach for it. Having no mouth and an intense need to scream. My family might be accepting, but there’s definitely the chance they’re not, especially with some things I’ve heard dad listen to. Even if I came out today and they embraced me as Kathrine fully, the next problem is the problem of money. The idea of insurance covering HRT is almost laughable, and even with how it would improve my well-being, it would be selfish to ask for it while we have more pressing payments and medical problems. Just two more years, I suppose. Two more years of hating the name everyone but my friends call me. Two more years of cuddling in my bed pretending to be a pretty girl to soften the blow of reality. Two more years of feeling like a creep when I imagine myself as that girl. Two more years of making social media accounts under Kat to feel any amount of euphoria. Two more years of telling my friends to call me that horrible name around my parents. Two more years of hiding my google searches and YouTube recommendations from my family. Two more years of hating every atom of me when my grandma calls me a nice young man or a fun boy. Two more years of writing stupid words in a google doc to vent. Two more years sound like a long time when you put it like that, but I've been doing this for a while, and a lot changes when you take a different perspective. Two more years till I can tell everyone to call me Kat. Two more years till I can take the magic blue pill to feel more like me. Two more years with great friends that help me. Two more years to save up money to not only be able to buy HRT but hopefully much more. Two more years of getting better at writing. Only two more years till I can be me.
A little writing practice I did recently.
There it was, the ancient item. It was almost unbelievable. I had heard rumors about it, I thought it would be a weapon of power or perhaps a garb giving you strength. But never did I expect to see a simple apple fritter. Casting magic on food was nigh impossible. If even a crumb were to fall off it could break the entire magic structure. At first my mind went to it being a hoax. The entire heist was now a waste of time and we would have risked prison and even death for a joke, but soon my imagination got the best of me, what if the rumors were right. Yes they were of the most ridiculous nature, but why would the artifact be a lie. I mean it’s not like the government would have to lie about having great magical protection. Maybe just maybe the gods did bless this item.
“Barry, did you find it? We need some help here.” The voices of my companions made me realize something quite clearly. If they would get their hands on this there is no way they would share. They were thieves and criminals and a simple street rogue like myself would be no help in the future of their clan. “Barrington, I swear to the gods hurry up.” in a move of desperation and fear, I swallowed it in one quick bite. It wasn’t very big, perfectly mouth sized. I immediately felt a burst of emotions. It was delicious, but I felt no magical effect. How stupid of me it was just a lie of course. I mean if the government had some secret weapon that one new of, why would they tell. It was just for intimidation. A big lie. I opened my eyes in disappointment and….
Darkness then me, then my birth and my death, soon the death of everyone I knew then space, then magic, then wars. Every possible future, all of the conceivable past, and all the most tragic and beautiful of presents. My eyes saw everything, everywhere, and everywhen in a fraction of a fraction of a nano-second. Then darkness, nothing, it was a nothing that would horrify the universe herself. From the darkness came a light. First it was smaller than a gnat but brighter than all the stars combined. Soon it grew, getting brighter with every inch. As it developed, I could feel my mind shatter and my thoughts stopped…. “Barry is that the person who was going to steal the item while you distracted us.” asked the knight gruff and cold. “Yeah, I suppose.” I said not meeting his gaze. “Let’s see if he’s still in the tower.” he said in a small snicker. I can’t believe he would betray us. Suppose that’s what you get for trusting a street urchin. We entered the tower. All that was in it was a pedestal, holding a small berry pie. There was no sign of him anywhere. “Poor lad.” said the knight softly before taking us to our cells.
he's so funny damn it
Man, bluey is too good like what the hell. Why do I have feelings for a cartoon dog named Bandit. He's not even hot physically. He's just so funny may god have mercy on my soul.
