I am tired of having this conversation but my temper is snapping

I am not queer. I am a gay man. A click on the About Me tab up there takes you to a post about my labels and identity. It's abundantly clear and starkly clear. I've tried to make this as clear as possible without enraging the folks who demand I identify by their label not mine.

So let me be really bloody clear about this. To me that word is a slur and it's a trigger. Not a “oh that makes me uncomfortable” spork. No, a whole load of mental illness and pain causing trigger that often leads to me opening my handy-dandy pill bottle. It's an instant trip to under-threat land. It is not some minor thing I can just get over, it's not something that can be readily dismissed

And I hate dealing with it, enough that I will just take absences just because there's too much of the word around and it's bringing me down. When you use the word as a generic, I'll skip past it, try not to read it, cringe and push into my mind whatever you're referring to doesn't include me, I've found it's the best way to try and deal with this. It's in common useage which means common pain but that's on me to deal with however I can. If you use it to self-reference, it doesn't apply to me anyway which makes it easier to handle.

There's no difficult, painful get around for when you apply it straight to me. Then it's a slur and it just hurts. And I'm beyond tired of explaining this – and even further tired of people denying this, denying that it can be possible, denying me feeling this way. I cannot make it clearer – do not call me it, it triggers me and if you call me it after having ample chance to know better – and especially after I tell you not to – then you are using a slur against me.

For people within the community – that's unacceptable, you don't get to force your reclamation on me – and don't get to police my identity to suit your idea of who I should be and what I should identify with.

For straight, cis people – you can't reclaim a slur that can't be used against you, calling me it after I've told you what it means to me is beyond unacceptable – and I refuse to endure it.

Now please stop. Honestly, I'm tired of having to fight over every little basic request.

General meness

I sometimes feel like I need a warning sign letting everyone know I'm in an especially bad mood... well, not exactly a bad mood per se? More a case of a complete unwillingness to deal with crap mood. I think it's a side-effect of obtaining some semblance of mental balance again (more on that later) either a direct result or because some part of my mind feels like it's on a tightrope and refuses to tolerate anything that may knock me off balance again. I don't know the why, maybe I'm over rationalising and I'm just in a bad mood.

Anyway, this whole week has been kind of like that. The claws have been out, my gloves have been off and I've let loose with both barrels a couple of time. Looking back... I regret nothing. Maybe I need to burn those gloves, maybe I tolerate too much crap from too many people, maybe the odd blow up may make things easier. Anyway, things to ponder


Beloved has dyed his hair black. No I don't know why, the man's incapable of maintaining his natural hair colour for more than a couple of weeks. Of course with his skin tone it just makes him look deathly pale and rather ill (even if it does makes his eyes extremely blue). He is sulking with me because I told him I wouldn't go out in public with him because people would think I'm a necrophiliac. I predict there will be many many wonderful days of taunting over this.

Beloved and I have devolved into the “You hate freedom game.” I'm not sure who started it, but it involves trying to win any argument by accusing the other of hating freedom and then trying to make a vague logical link for that. It's kind of like Baron Munchausens (the best drunk game EVER) if it were played by American Republicans.

I've also not been baking much (beyond the basic necessities since we buy so little baked goods) and Beloved is now being pathetic about it. He's also reminding me how much baking is therapeutic to me and positively healthy. Isn't it wonderful that he is so concerned about my health? Yeaaaah if he thinks I'm falling for that then there's something in the dye poisoning his brain.

But then again I think he's in withdrawal since he has found an air-freshener (I hate those things) that smells so strongly of vanilla it smells like I'm baking. It actually smells like someone splashed a gallon of vanilla extract around our living room. Beloved has failed in his defence strategy though, since he can't decide whether to apologise for it or say there's nothing wrong with it. Silly Beloved, he should have his defence ready and secure pre-emptively

But then he was probably distracted because his chemical attack didn't work. It is official, he cannot shop – not after he bought acidic jungle defoliant instead of soap. My skin is peeling so much I look like I have leprosy. I will plot my revenge for this. Yes yes I will. He's stacking it up – I still haven't had suitable revenge for the Brown Girl in the Ring fiasco.

I have a huge backlog on stuff to do that's irritating me. I have been a slacker this.. damn this whole month to be honest time to wake up and get to it all. Back into the salt mines!