Take that, Sexist Motherfuckers.

Evolutionary Psychology gets a kick in the pants. Hello Behavioral Ecology!

Please oh please may this be the beginning of the end of sleazy faux-scientist types telling me who I'm attracted to based on who they think my ancestors liked to fuck.

Stop me before I get nostalgic.

So, as many of you know, I'm turning 30 this week. The nostalgia has been choking me. I can't hear the songs I used to listen to in my early 20s without getting misty-eyed. It's odd, because I was fucking miserable in my early 20s. I was seriously horribly depressed. And I get angry at myself, because I didn't really have that much to be depressed about. Not compared to today. But damn, I had a clinical depression - you can't help that shit. I had to have had a clinical depression, who willingly mopes most of their way through their twenties?

I get a horrible feeling when I try to go about my usual fan business. I'm feeling guilty. I get to writing Xena fanfic, or my X-Men fanfic, or any fucking fanfic and I ask myself the following set of questions:

- Who is going to read this fanfic?
- Why am I writing it if barely anyone is going to read it?
- You have been writing this fandom for "____" years now. Why are you still doing it?
- Where have all my old mates gone? The ones I chatted to for hours. The ones that made me laugh and forget my troubles? I guess they grew up, they got families. They started on their own work instead of fan work and now they're reaping the rewards.
- What the hell have I accomplished in the past ten years of my life?

I can get pretty fucking hard on myself, as you can see. The thing is, I am way, way better at my art, my writing, my songwriting and singing than I ever was ten years ago. And I was really good back then (except with the writing, now I've finally come to the point where I'm passable, though Mum reckons I'm great).

Being sick sucked five years of my life away. It really did. It seemed all I ever did in the past few years was wait for my next treatment. I feel robbed.

Sometimes I feel like my only achievements I've ever had after high school is because people have been nice to me and done me a favour. I wish so much to complete something worthwhile. To make something and have people enjoy it.

I also miss all the friends I used to chat to. I don't know whether I'm too scared to chat to people, or whether people are too scared to chat to me, or too busy. Or maybe I'm just a hermit now. I don't know. I used to have so much fun online. I used to socialise far more than I do now. All my old haunts are empty. All the new haunts where people hang out are filled with young kids, teenagers. I figure nobody that age would want to talk to me. It's like hanging out with their Mum or something. Plus what on earth would we talk about?! LOL!

I don't know, I wish I could just erase my age. Not the experience, or the self-assurance or any of that. Nor even how I look. I like how I look! My bone structure has become more refined as I've lost the puppy fat. My neck and shoulders are more bony than they used to be, just a touch. Just enough to make certain dress cuts look stunning. I'm happy with my looks, I'm happy with my body. I'm happy with my spirit and my wisdom.

It's the world that's bothering me. Opportunity will probably start shutting down. I was already at a disadvantage, being a woman and all. Now I'm going to be a woman in her thirties. A disabled woman in her thirties. And my big tickets, other than my novel, are my comics. I'm terrified of people hating BirdMartiaN. It makes me sick with worry, having my magnum opus panned.

The worst thing, the absolutely worst thing, is the thought that I'll never get anything done in my life. I thought I'd have heaps of issues of BirdMartiaN done by now. I had such big plans when I was 20. But then shit kept hitting my fan. Depression. Coming out. When I had that licked, my health clapped out on me. It's just not fair.

I'm single. I'm childless. And I've not done much to really show for all the spare time I've had. Except a buttload of fanfic and fan art. I just feel like a mess. My life is a mess.

Wanna hear my dream? This is my big life dream. When I was 20, it was to be famous but this is my dream now. My big dream:

I'd have a nice place of my own, not too far from Mum and Dad's place. I'd have a wonderful husband, one I could talk to, one I could relax with. One that makes me laugh and most of all, someone I felt safe with. At home with. I'd have plans for a baby with him. I'd have cats. I'd have done something with my talents, established my comics and my art. I'd have a definite web presence and maybe I'd get to travel interstate or overseas to do the odd convention. I'd maybe write a book helping people draw better. I'd have finished my novel, and maybe I'd be finding a way to get it published.

I'm working on these things, particularly the last bunch of things. I just feel stupid and pathetic that it's ten years on, and I haven't achieved much. I've gotten better at what I do, but that's about it.

I always said to myself, "I won't feel bad about turning 30, as long as I've accomplished something."

I've survived crushing depression. I've survived becoming disabled. I've survived sexual trauma. But how my career has suffered! How I have suffered! And there's no hope, no recompense. I just have to drag my shit together and keep on going. Keep on chipping away at it. I wouldn't give up a day of my life, but damn, if only I had the opportunities I had ten years ago. Damn it all.

I think the worst thing, the most terrible thing, is that I've had this paranoia since I went to a Music Manager's Forum thing. I put my music in for blind critique. That is, they listen to the music without knowing who made it. They critique to the room - an auditorium full of people. I'd had people tell me all my life how talented I was, what a great singer I was, how good I was at writing music.

I had a panel of industry big-wigs and high-ups, people in charge of BMG and Time Warner and shit, listen to my song. They mocked it. They laughed at it. They made fun of the lyrics and the production. I walked out of there and I felt like a joke, like a big fat lie.

I felt like I'd built my whole life on a fool's dream. That yeah, I was pretty talented as far as the population went, but when you stand me up against the professionals, I was a rank amateur. I've never been confident about my music again since that day. Ever. I still do my music, but, I don't know.

Sometimes I get that paranoia about all my talents. Not just music, but art, writing... sometimes I wonder if I'm building up my dreams on a fool's hope. I don't want to be old, alone, broke and looking back on a wasted life.

Oh hey - I bypassed nostalgia and fell right into a puddle of depression - whee! :T

I laughed, I ain't gonna lie to ya.

Fair shake of the sauce bottle, indeed. There are a lot of things he's not doing that I would have liked for him to do in power, but damn, he does have a good sense of humour. Howard was never this amiable or accessable.

My new TV crack...

Merlin. I know, I know, it's a silly show. But I love it. I don't know why. It's magical, it's not reality TV, it has Anthony Stewart "Scrummy-pants" Head in it, there's a dragon sometimes and Arthur is hot. And oh, it's not Crime TV. I love things when they're not CrimeTV!!

SO! Which way to the Merlin/Arthur porn?

Racism Kills.

The tragic story of the Malu Sara, an unseaworthy vessel that sank in Torres Strait, taking the five people on board with it.

It was a matter of what I consider aggressive negligence. It was criminal negligence. These people didn't just die because those that were supposed to help them were incompetent - they died because people HATED them for their skin colour. What else could it possibly be? How else do you describe leaving someone to drown in a raging sea other than hate? Phoning someone up and making jokes about the emergency beacon? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?

Fuck. I was so mad by the end of Four Corners. Fucking incandescent. I don't know how these motherfuckers sleep at night, I really fucking don't.

I ache for the people who lost their family because of this. I know how close kin can be. I have an absolutely HUGE family, over 100 people in it all told, and we're a clan. Grandpa was Scottish, Granny was Maltese. You combine those senses of family and you have a damned tight-knit group. Even if you're not related by blood, they're your people. They're a part of you, damn it. I couldn't imagine losing family members like that, knowing people cared so fucking little.

I want this to end, damn it. I want people to stop treating Indigenous Australians like crap just because they're a different colour! God, we owe them SO MUCH.

Fucking hell, it just breaks my heart, people. And I'm really fucking mad it took watching Four Corners before I heard about it. Why wasn't this all over the freakin' news? When one rich son of a bitch gets lost on his boat due to going out there on his own, the Navy gets called in and it's all over the fucking news. When a black family is out on the ocean, doing a VERY important damned job in protecting our waters, and they're left to drown in horrible conditions? Not. A. Fucking. Peep.

I fucking hate you, Mainstream Media.