Go ahead. I’ll wait.

 

 

😛

 

 

So I’m working on the next chunk of A New Day and I’ve come to the realization that much of my story is hanging/hinging on mental wellness. Huh…

Am I Mary Sue -ing something here Dave?

(thinking to myself: Quick, go google that phrase so you know what it means and don’t sound like an ass in using it wrong)

>>> From Wikipedia site link above >>>

A Mary Sue is a type of fictional character, usually a young woman, who is portrayed as unrealistically free of weaknesses.^[1] Originating in fan fiction, a Mary Sue is often an author’s idealized self-insertion. Mary Sue stories are often written by adolescent authors.^[2]

<<< And that’s the end of that. <<<

Fictional character – Check

Young woman – Check…

Free of weakness? – Ha! I think I’m safe with this one… or maybe not. I’m reflecting on how she’s portrayed in the story.

Author’s idealized self-insertion? – Uhhh… Am I a secret Trans woman?

Often written by adolescent authors – Well… I am mentally stunted.

 

Holy crap-is-stein! I’m a middle-aged trans woman in denial about my true inner much younger idealized self.

And to think that all this time I was a lesbian stuck in a man’s body.

Maybe I still am? Maybe that’s my outer appearance? Maybe-maybe-maybe…

Yeah, I have a lot of wild thoughts in my head.

I’m kind of unstable in that sort of way.

 

 

I guess it’s a good thing I have such a good support group of invisible friends to help keep me sane.

 

Anywho…

 

I think part of my drudging all this up is because my 15-year-old daughter blew her friggin lid earlier today when I tried to give her a hug. In her kind of defense, she was having trouble getting out of the car that I had parked on the driveway as the steepness of it was causing the door to keep swinging back shut on her. Mind you, the other younger kids got out of the other doors without issue, same as myself. So in what I thought of as friendly banter, I teased her about it.

WRONG DAVE, WRONG!

You can’t tease a 15-year-old girl about anything. They are fragile pieces of crap with no ego and everything you do affects them in the worse way possible. (yeah, I’m rolling my eyes too while writing that crap)

So we enter the house and drop off all of the kids’ backpacks onto the floor and step over to hug my 15-year-old daughter and she flips out on me about me not acknowledging “No means No and giving her space.”

In my version of reality, I never heard a “No” until I moved in for my predatory molesting hug. Well, she apparently had thought those words, and I hadn’t mind read them quick enough to her satisfaction. Hence I’m the bad guy.

 

EVERYONE views reality in their own special little way.

 

EVERYONE has a slightly different interpretation of what is going on around them.

 

EVERY ONE of those invisible people keeps telling me I’m a sane person.

 

😛

 

Tootles all