I’m Back (I Haven’t Been in a Good Place & Don’t Expect to be in One Anytime Soon but…I’m Here, I guess)

So, it’s been almost six years since I started this blog, and now 18 months of that time has been spent missing in action. And while this whole website is just a hobby that doesn’t bring in money or even much recognition, it’s still a treasured passion that’s given me some small happiness in an increasingly depressing world. When I’m not writing I feel useless, like I’m letting maybe the one thing I’m “good” at go to waste, not honing my craft during the years my idols created their best work. And yet that’s the state I’ve been languishing in for what feels like an eternity now. Why? I’m gonna attempt to tell you in a vague, meandering stream of consciousness that’s self-pitying in a way the internet loves to hate. So, for no other reason than to get things off my chest and break the ice, here is what’s been going on with me during the “Silent Period” of theCarbonFreeze and where I hope to take things in the coming year or so.

What’s Up

The first thing you need to know about me and why I’m sometimes prone to self-isolation, is that I’m not a happy person and I don’t like people. I don’t even care enough to deny it anymore. Literally the only instances I can recall being happy for a sustained amount of time are when I was growing up hanging out at the beach every summer with my cousins and when I was first going through my “trans phase” (5-odd years of fully embracing my long-subdued feminine side before misgivings at the direction of the movement took me out of it). Looking back now, I think what connects these two distinct memories is the act of escaping my life for a little bit, either through a vacation where nobody knew (though I’m sure they suspected) what a loser I was in school or through a mental breakdown where I desperately tried to become a different person. That’s because it often feels like my waking life is just a never-ending series of hurts, heartbreaks and humiliations with little reprieve. What makes it worse is no one ever stands up for me, not my “friends” when I was in school, not my family members when my sister tells me to “shut up” in the middle of telling a story at Thanksgiving, nor bystanders when they see someone threatening to kill me for wearing a dress in public. Eventually you just accept that this is your place and where everyone else wants you to be. If everyone is ok with me taking abuse, I guess I deserve abuse.

Nobody owes me happiness, everyone’s got problems, at least I’m not starving in Africa, I get it. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not happy, I have a lot of baggage that seems to accumulate, and I’ve had negative formative experiences which seem to set me up for a recursive nightmare of disappointments and exclusions. It’s really hard to know how to interact with people in a confident, charismatic way when you spent your teen years getting picked on at school and excluded consistently even among family. Now anytime I force myself to venture out into the world, it’s like I’m starting from scratch while everyone else has investments from 20 years ago paying dividends. I don’t know when or how to laugh the “right” way. I can see people getting uncomfortable or looking annoyed if I try to keep a conversation going but if I break it off I feel like I’m being antisocial and preemptively killing what could be a connection. My brand of humor is too dark or too goofy, not witty and topical. I don’t have as many “cool stories” from my “prime” to break the ice. For reasons I’ll get into, I don’t have “a group” to go to events with or incorporate newbies I meet into, I’m just a loner male going to events alone which is like a social repellent. (“He doesn’t have a group? Must be something wrong with him.”) I nod too much or not enough, I don’t have good eye contact. I was bullied so badly I started having nervous breakdowns speaking in public so sometimes my voice breaks or quivers. My interests are niche, as this blog is a testament to. Trying to deal with all that and find “your people” in your thirties when everyone’s pairing down and focusing on careers and kids is impossible. It feels like I missed my moment to be happy. I wasted my best years on the wrong people, so they get to be happy at my expense and I don’t get a do-over.

I resent the traumas assholes have put me through that they never apologize for and nearly every time I leave the house, I’m always shocked at how rude people are for no reason, either to me personally or to others. From refusing to acknowledge me when I speak (that’s happened on at least 4 separate instances just in the last year, with different groups of people at different places) to trying to scam me, to physical assault, I’ve seen it all. I could list a bunch of examples of what I mean but individually they seem petty, and in concert they would double the size of this whole essay and start to sound made up some of them are so ridiculous. Here’s just one quick story off the top of my head. Once, and this is just in 2023 with a bunch of other 30-50 year old grown ass adults mind you, this group of ~12 I was trying to fit in with were bragging about all the ways they kill “gross/creepy” spiders. So I jumped in with a squashed centipede story, only to get chewed out loudly and aggressively for like 5 minutes about how beneficial centipedes are and what an asshole I am for killing an “innocent defenseless animal.” Somehow the same doesn’t apply to all the spiders they gleefully kill for fun. Now, I guarantee if anyone else said what I did, they would’ve gotten a round of laughter and pats on the back. I do it and I’m a pariah the rest of the party. Step one be attractive, step two don’t be unattractive. Step three, everything Cassandra does is wrong. I’m not saying this was super hurtful and it’s far from the worst instance of social rejection I could name even just in the last two years, but it’s all so ridiculously hypocritical and stupid it gets to me sometimes, the excuses people make to justify shutting someone down who isn’t “cool” enough for their little posse of self-important (wo)manchildren. I’ve also been the least fat person in a group of fat people who’s somehow the only one that gets teased for it. I’ve tried to make friendly conversation at a small adult birthday party with other adults who straight up gave me the silent treatment–they didn’t even know me or have any reason to think ill of me! But I digress…

For a long time now, I’ve been grappling with what I consider to be the first and most egregious of these injustices that have happened to me–male genital mutilation–but the idea of reveling in such a soul-crushing wound long enough to do justice to it in writing is…daunting. I want to tackle the subject for my own sake and so my experience may add to the chorus calling for the elimination of such an inhumane practice but I just don’t have the stamina for it right now. I guess I’m still processing it myself and how little anyone seems to give a damn. From my own mother at various times laughing about it, to saying “oh well” dismissively, to “it’s OVER get over it!” (Really? Tell that to my big ugly red scar, dried out glans, completely numb orgasms, my stretched-raw skin when I get erections, etc) The whole “be the bigger person and move on” spiel is sure easy to say when someone else always has to do it–and suffer the lifelong consequences of YOUR careless decision. I swear my mom has more empathy for the butcher who cut me than she does her own child. (“Don’t call him bad names, he was just doing his job!”) With one of my guy friends (who wasn’t cut) it was just lame Buddhist platitudes about how sex is a sin anyway, and when I honestly but gently told him that didn’t exactly help he just dismissively barked “well, what do you want from me?” I don’t know, empathy, patience, kindness? Like a friend is supposed to do? I guess that was too much to ask of someone I’ve known since we were 6. Sorry for being so demanding and selfish. Even my then-therapist dismissed my circumcision trauma and said “well, I mutilated MY sons and THEY’RE fine!” all defensive. (While charging me hundreds of dollars for the privilege.)

(I probably shouldn’t air such personal grievances here but who even cares anymore, the world could be destroyed by a comet in 2032.) My breaking point in all this has been the realization that my sister doesn’t care about my circumcision trauma–or about me in general for that matter. After repeated attempts to get my parents to understand how badly they screwed me over, by sending impassioned arguments of my own as well as scientific data and the anguished stories of others, my sister decided I was in the wrong for “making them feel bad” and that I’m an asshole for “putting so much emphasis on a flap of skin.” (This is after she said on a separate occasion that declawing a cat is torture–I guess I’m lower on the totem pole than a literal animal even to my own goddamn sibling). I tried to get us to a position of compromise: “Well, you at least wouldn’t do it to your own son after seeing how badly it can affect someone like me, your own brother, right?” Nothing but evasive answers in turn. Then, in an effort to try to make her see how important this one singular issue is to me, I said “if you could really put a child through this very awful violation of human rights, diminishing their quality of life for a procedure that’s been proven to be bunk science, I don’t think I could ever speak to you again.” I specifically made a point to say that was the ONE thing that could ever illicit such a response from me, even said “you could be a convicted murderer and I’d still believe in your innocence, or rationalize your actions if you admitted to it, I’d still find a way to see the best in you even then, but this one thing is so cruel and personally heinous to me that it would change how I feel about you if you perpetuated it onto an innocent child.” Apparently that was the excuse she’s been waiting for all along (she’s never needed a good reason to see the worst in me) to cut off all contact forever.

In over two years now, no attempt on my part to salvage the situation has prevailed. It didn’t matter when I walked back my comment and apologized multiple times profusely (despite my position being completely reasonable–you feminists can reverse the genders if that’s what it takes for you to understand how fucked her stance really is). It didn’t even matter when my husband was battling cancer these past months, she hates me so much that she’d ruin a baby’s life and let my husband die without expressing condolences or prayers just to spite me. I have to live every day knowing my sister thinks SO LITTLE of me, my husband and our feelings as that, and even after reconciling with my parents in the aftermath, she chooses this hill to die on, all alone, just on sheer feminine stubbornness and misandry. Never miss an opportunity to stick it to those evil sexist men, I guess. And before anyone chimes in, I was always an outspoken defender of women’s rights growing up, especially the right to choose because I believe in bodily autonomy. So does my sister–but only for women, when men get screwed over it’s payback for “the patriarchy” or something. How is any guy supposed to have a positive view of the opposite sex with experiences like this? When we are made to suffer to placate the relentless feminist appetite for revenge. And yet I did…until I just couldn’t submit to their endless, incessant contempt anymore. Even saints can only accept so much abuse before hitting back or calling it quits on life itself.

I’m Still Here…But I Wish I Wasn’t Almost Every Day

So, I lost my sister and am being made to feel like a monster because I think cutting off the most sensitive part of boys’ genitals without their consent is wrong. But I shouldn’t be surprised because during the latter half of Obama’s term, I lost many other friends for saying America was becoming a fascist country due to NSA surveillance, droning US citizens without trial, bombing hospitals and walking back whistleblower protections. That made me unpatriotic, pro-terrorist, racist (Obama’s black and therefore above criticism) and ungrateful (for all the “freedoms” I’ve been given…even as I pointed out they were actually being taken away). I got blocked on facebook by friend and family, chewed out publicly, told it’s my fault if another 9/11 happens, that I lack empathy for the victims of bin Laden, that I don’t “respect the troops,” accused of “having something to hide.” Now many (most? all?) of those same chuckle-fucks who impugned my character whine about Trump’s fascism without even apologizing or acknowledging I was ahead of the curve. I lost even more friends because I like to wear dresses–they didn’t even try to talk to me about it if they really thought I was making a mistake. Just one minute saying we’re best friends and planning a meetup over the holidays to ghosting my calls and blocking my facebook for the last ten years and counting. These are people who pride themselves on being “tolerant of others” online, who assured me nothing would change, who post pictures of themselves at LGBT parades (or with the gay flag filter) in June. My longtime friend of 25 years didn’t invite me to his wedding because “it would’ve been too weird” but then expected everything to be fine after admitting that. Fuck me for expecting to be invited to once-in-a-lifetime celebrations of people I’ve been loyal to for decades. How selfish of me.

I’m just not allowed to have friends and reasonable opinions at the same time I guess. I’m just expected to constantly take disrespect on the chin and laugh it off, let it go, be the bigger person and move on, but I swear if I ever say the wrong thing or make a faux pas I never get the same grace everyone always seems to expect of me. I can show endless kindness and consideration to a man’s family for three years. Keep his kids happy and occupied for hours at a time on camping trips so mom can nap (dad has a bad back and can’t come). I treat his lonely stuttering son as if he were my own, patiently listening to him share his arcane knowledge of videogames all afternoon for two weeks straight, doing my best to keep up and be a good confidant, making him feel loved while every other adult in the “friend” group ignores him or bosses him around. Anytime this kid vents about his dad being tough on him, I always put in a good word and make sure he understands his dad is doing his best at an impossible job with no manual. I can drive a ~3 hour round trip for the child’s birthday (which no one else in the “friend” group shows up for) write a heartfelt card that makes mom tear up and give him $50 so he can buy all the steam games on his wishlist. None of that matters when I say (in the heat of the moment after my husband’s cancer diagnosis) that Luigi Mangione is a modern Robin Hood. Then I’m just “repulsive” for “condoning violence” and dad thinks nothing of impugning my character on a public forum, in front of the whole “friend” group, and never apologizing or acknowledging me again in a positive context even months later. I know politics is a heated topic but why are we so eager to throw trusted longtime family friends who bring joy to our childrens’ lives under the bus at the first opportunity? Why is a healthcare CEO who profited in the hundreds of millions off preventable human suffering afforded more benefit of the doubt than someone who’s genuinely good to your loved ones? I swear I’ve seen people defend the honor of mediocre Marvel movies, politicians who wouldn’t care if they died, Nintendo’s anti-consumer policies and overpriced Apple products more vigorously than the actual human beings who love them. We value media fandom, political affiliation and corporate brand identity more than genuine, positive human contact and that’s insane to me. We are a sick society that’s forgotten that goods are supposed to be disposable, not human beings.

In any case, it feels like if you’re a guy who isn’t naturally tough, aggressive, imposing and calloused then the world has no place for you, no matter how much everyone (especially women) virtue-signals about how much they appreciate sensitive, emotional, feminine, idealistic men. Even if you consistently go out of your way to make their lives easier, you’re just a disposable placeholder until someone cooler comes along. If you try to point out this contradiction to women, you get called a sexist incel and lectured about how your problems are insignificant next to the “oppression” of women and how it’s “not their job” to fix mens’ issues despite the fact they constantly demand we fix theirs. Feminism is a moral imperative, taken as a given, where you’re put on trial if you criticize any of its members or tenets. Meninism (Masculism?) is so niche it isn’t even recognized by this spellchecker, and both it as well as intactivism (anti-mutilation) are often classified as hate groups, because if you’re pro-men you must be anti-women right? (Yet that assumption never seems to carry over to women, even when they openly say things like “kill all men.” Hmmm…) Anyway. if you try to point out this contradiction to men, they’ll get uncomfortable (because “feelings, ew!”) and then either throw some cheap platitudes your way, say “go to therapy” or mark you as an easy target they can throw under the bus for clout later. I had the misfortune to be born male, and for this reason, my genitals were mutilated, I was denied self exploration (I always liked wearing dresses and makeup), I was excluded from my sister and female cousins’ many girls-only excursions (still going on to this day, god forbid anyone catch my cooties), I was denied the ability to express my feelings, forced to humiliate myself playing team sports so my dad could relive his glory days, I’ve been made a public scapegoat for all the world’s problems, I get told I’m worse than a bear and apparently I’m supposed to just grin and accept it. Over and over and over again. And anything I do that isn’t “go to work to support a woman’s lifestyle” is evil. Even that is evil, because I’m “taking a good job away from a poor oppressed woman.” I’m just supposed to be quiet and die and bequeath all my money to a feminist org, really. Even that probably isn’t enough atonement for the more radical feminist voices these days. I have original sin because of my penis, even when they cut half of it off before I knew it was there. And somehow they’ll unironically argue that I deserve it, because a man catcalled them once or something.

Maybe I’m particularly neurotic or fragile but I can’t just keep taking this abuse and pretend it doesn’t bother me anymore. It does. And any man acting like they don’t know what I’m talking about is either a) extremely fortunate, born with the right genes and upbringing to get put on the “good life track” early on, or b) has some kind of masochist-stoic wiring in their brain I wish I had or c) is a cheap, virtue-signalling, pussy-glazing simp, who’s been trained to throw his own gender under the bus and parrot feminist talking points because that’s what his mom/media/teachers told him he has to do in order to be a good boy. I’m not necessarily saying that the c-optioners are trying to get laid by larping as male-feminists, but certainly some are and the rest are just tragically misguided. I used to be one of those unfortunate white knights until I finally realized that it would never be enough to make up for my “toxic masculinity” and my efforts would never be reciprocated even an inch. (And no, feminists, I didn’t “expect a reward” for championing female causes, but y’know, acknowledging that genital mutilation is bad would be a nice start on your part, surely. Not comparing me to a wild animal would be cool too. It’s insane this is considered too much to ask and yet we men are supposedly the “privileged sex.”) I know women have their problems too, I’ve been catcalled and followed home when I was still a thin, passable transwoman who wore makeup everytime I left the house. But y’know what, even admitting that it wasn’t always glamorous, as someone who’s tasted both, I’d rather be a chick any day of the week. I miss going out for a walk and having 3 different guys flirt with me, a spur of the moment party invitation, lots of smiles and people trying to be nice to me all in one afternoon. As a guy I’m lucky if people even answer me back when I say “hi.” I might get one genuine compliment a year, against countless insults and snubs.

In short, it’s like I know I’m not actually a woman and never will be but…can you blame me for trying? I may have begrudgingly come to face facts, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly happy about being a man either. If I’m being honest, a lot of that trans stuff was desperately trying to avoid taking abuse from everyone I know all the time, and while the weight of keeping up the “double life” was eventually too much to bear, it doesn’t alleviate the social pressures that pushed me to pursue that lifestyle in the first place. To summarize this whole essay up in one term, I’d say this ongoing cognitive dissonance is the cause of my mental spiral the past two years as well as the subsequent radio silence. I know the self-pitying shtick is unbecoming, but whatever men do in today’s fourth-wave feminist dystopia of bitter misandry and revenge posturing is made to be evil–even when we surrender our masculinity and try to adopt the ways of the “superior” sex! I now know the answer is not to deny biological reality and run away to let other men shoulder the load alone. (Besides incurring its own stigma, transitioning is also expensive, exhausting and not a practical solution to the problem on a macro scale.) But I hate how there’s no way for me to just…exist…as an unattractive effeminate guy without someone demonizing me in some way.

There’s really no good place to turn to as a man who’s reaching his breaking point emotionally so I settled on weed and escapism the past few years. Break the illusion of rock-hard stability as a guy and you only burden the people you know (and usually drive them away entirely, in my experience). If you try to scream into the void of the internet you get made into a laughingstock. (I’ve had it happen to me and seen it happen to others whom I consider good people in need of a little empathy, from personal friends to social media influencers like Whatifalthist* to public figures such as Jake Lloyd). Everyone acts like they care about the well-being of others, but if you wanna know how shallow that sentiment really is, watch how society treats a broken-down man in trouble. Everyone wants to make jokes at the expense of the weakling, the freak, the “creeper.” Everyone wants to feel superior, everyone wants an excuse to break out that mean-spirited zinger they’ve been practicing in the shower, everyone feigns sympathy (“I hope he gets the help he clearly needs”) while buying tickets to the circus. Does anyone step in to offer that help, does anyone stand up for them in public, check on them in private, build up their confidence or do they consume the media feeding on it and thereby create demand for other people’s misery? That’s your Christian love/social justice brigade in a nutshell. I’ve never been in a dangerous/emergency situation where bystanders did anything but watch and laugh, from instances of bullying, to threats of violence against my person (for wearing a dress), to medical emergencies, car crashes and nervous breakdowns. If you’re not laughing, you’re the mark. That’s life.

I could go on to add another 5 paragraphs about the current state of the world and the US that’s been getting me down. I could go on to add another 5 paragraphs about the dismal state of the entertainment industry, where all originality and passion is sapped in favor of content quotas, IP farming and corporate consolidation. I could go into more detail about my husband’s struggle with cancer. I could go off on a tangent about being demoralized as a writer in an age of AI chatbots. I could expand on the anecdote about my cousins and how we never hang out anymore, how some of them went to Europe and didn’t invite me, how the way of the world these days is to watch everyone you ever loved move away, prioritize work and never see you again. I could even get petty and mention how the owners of the I Dolci Inganni copyright have removed my videoclips from YouTube, because God forbid anyone outside Europe ever learn this beautiful movie even exists. But that’s all just the icing on the cake of circumcision trauma and its compounding effects on my resentment for being born male and the further compounding effects of being a visibly depressed he-she trying to make friends in a lonely, polarized world where one wrong step gets you canceled by “friends” without a second thought. I think that’s a valid reason to distrust people and hate life, as well as an increasingly common one among young men today. Just know, you guys are not wrong and you’re not broken–society is.

What’s Coming

I’m hoping that by getting this off my chest, saying all there is to say about these uncomfortable thought-loops that have been causing me distress, that I can get back to semi-regular uploads on here. Because I do like writing. A lot. Even just this unfocused misanthropic vent has actually made me feel a lot better since I started several hours ago. In the future, I’m hoping to tackle the subject of male alienation and genital mutilation in greater depth, because I’ve truly come to believe it is the great unspoken injustice of our time. The feminists have overplayed their hand and no one in a position of power is standing up for our boys–at least not without ulterior motives. I couldn’t vote for Trump but you have no idea how badly I wanted to vote against the Democrats this last election–and I’m a McGovern-worshiping lefty who until ~2019 would have identified as a male feminist. But the identity politics and male bashing and dismissal of mens’ issues has just pushed me too far, to say nothing about the DNC’s political malpractice since 2010 if not earlier.

Besides that, obviously SOPHiA SOTERiA is my great passion and has remained so since The Acts of Mary was completed. I’ve hardly stopped plotting outlines, writing character bios, researching Gnosticism and other religions and having my own unique spiritual experiences in preparation for this work. I’m hoping it’ll be done sometime this summer but obviously I’ve missed deadlines before. It’ll be done when it’s done.

What’s moving to the top of the queue though, is politics. I think we are living through a particularly important time in America’s development, with the end of US hegemony on the world stage (for better or worse), the possible advent of celebrity politicians, the misinformation age, increasing polarization and wealth inequality, our institutions and infrastructure on the verge of collapse, the coming seventh party system, global rejection of globalism, post neoliberal economics, mounting resentment against “woke” DEI intersectional feminism, billionaires going full mask-off…it’s a transformative age of possibility and chaos. I believe we will all be judged by history according to how we acted in this pivotal moment and much to my disappointment, nobody in any position of authority seems to be doing anything substantive. So, I’d like to continue my work on constitutional reforms, a policy platform and electoral suggestions for the Democrats and, if necessary, the Republicans or a third party to get in power and get it done. I don’t expect it to succeed but goddamn it I’d be ashamed if I didn’t at least try. Too many laymen seem to lack the imagination or ambition to do much except hope and pray if we keep voting the same DNC stooges or calling Trump a nazi online that things will magically work themselves out.

Also, the thing I said before about programming custom-made AI chatbots is off. I admit I was enticed by the novelty of generative AI for awhile, like ~2 years ago, but that’s since shifted to disgust and frustration with the whole thing. Anytime I find one that gives interesting results, it seems some behind the scenes update or shuffling of parameters screws it up. Previously uncensored becomes censored on a second visit, bots that once gave detailed sprawling answers start giving brief two paragraph answers akin to a C-student cruising by on the bare minimum. It has its uses if you need a form letter or quick summary of an article or bounce ideas off of to get started while researching, but it’s not a worthy collaborator as I had once hoped. They’re too unpredictable and yet too sanitized to be useful, in my opinion. I also resent the effect they’ve had on art, how genuine creators have to defend themselves against accusations of “using AI” while these tech moguls steal our work and get away with it. ChatGPT regularly uses this blog as a source, which is a joke, flattering though it may be.

Beyond that, you know, I want to finally finish talking about Bojack Horseman and Spider-verse at some point. And if I find any other cool Italian films no one has ever heard of, I want to share them with the world. I even wrote enough additional notes on Sweet Deceptions to post an entire third essay about it. (It’s been a long time since a newly discovered movie left such a profound impact on me, and I wish it had more recognition, but considering TFI seems to want it to stay buried in America, I guess I’m a jerk for that too.) Anyway, thanks for listening to me vent about my feelings. Believe me when I say, almost no one else on Earth would–and that’s half the problem.