Empress of Mars: Undisputed @zebratron2084@awoo.space

Oh this is wonderful. Apparently, "manticore" derives from the Middle Persian "mardya-khowr," or "man-eater."

So my impending new species name basically means "Hey, They're Gonna Eat That Guy," which of course, long-time friends will know is the name of my favorite Martian sitcom. =^______^=

@Leucrotta @mawr Listen, and understand. That fishhead is out there. Ask it anything you wan't to. It WON'T ANSWER. It CAN'T PLAY BASEBALL. It DOESN'T WEAR SWEATERS. It's NOT A GOOD DANCER.

Stepbrother definitely has brain and lung cancer. Not sure which spread to which. They're gonna start chemo ASAP and see what they can do for him. Everyone at home seems to be holding up OK under the circumstances, so I'm OK. I'm so fucking stoic about loss at this point, I feel damn near invulnerable.

We set a formal date of 4/23 for the final move. We have plane tickets. It's stressful, we have a lot to do, but I'm still excited.

Also found out I'm about $500 in debt after Peg pays me back for the NOLA car rental, which is actually a big relief, 'cause I was braced to be much worse off. My expenses go down a bunch in NOLA, and once we're settled, I don't really expect to have much to district me besides work. Should be easy, even with Angela Brocato's bakery up the road. (You can only buy so much of something that's likely to kill you. =n_n;= )

@Soreth Me, just now: "Peggy? Good news! There's a magic lizard out there that's WORSE THAN YOU ARE..." <3

This is just about one of my favorite things ever, David Byrne's liner notes from Stop Making Sense: http://www.youmightfindyourself.com/post/43502003204/talking-heads-stop-making-sense-liner-notes

​I'm watching a bunch of MLP fans on Reddit wail and rend their garments over the impending end of their fandom. Several of them are recent arrivals who feel like it's all ending just as they got there.

And I really genuinely do feel for them. I've seen subcultures I've loved very much last long enough to peter out completely. I've narrowly missed a lot of good scenes I desperately wish I could've been there for. And I've definitely seen some of my favorite imaginary worlds just... disappear before I was done with them.

But I kinda want to give those pony fans a hug, pat 'em on the nose, and tell them the story of when I was 12 years old-- that's 1987*. I was really sad, because I'd just heard about this whole "Dungeons and Dragons" thing, but I'd made up my mind that it had Already Happened and I'd just missed out on it.

So I don't worry too much these days about a fandom vanishing for good. I have faith in the great Bulldada Cycle: everything comes around every 20 years or so, in some form or another.

I also believe very strongly in these words of wisdom laid out by David Byrne, in the liner notes** of the Stop Making Sense album:

"THERE IS ALWAYS A PARTY GOING ON SOMEWHERE."

*A.D.

**This is really an excellent set of liner notes, full of other profound truths such as "Cats like houses better than people." It's like he knows us. 🐯

Space buskers. This warms my heart a little. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWyIbXUT-_A&feature=youtu.be

@001zlnv Yeah, I looked into them a little closer and they're, like, scary-good, 2nd-rated by US News and World Report... Not a huge relief, but still a relief.

@Leucrotta What a thoughtful question! <3 But sadly, nah, not really!

The thing is, I don't like my parents driving up to the really seedy area that Cleveland Hopkins is in, so they prefer to get me at Akron-Canton-- a regional airport that's basically two hops away from EVERYTHING except O'Hare... So I've got a long flight home basically no matter what. :)

No major news. Matt's still conscious, more coherent than he was, and in surprisingly good spirits. Spoke to stepdad (Larry) this morning and he sounded surprisingly composed. I still didn't dare ask mom outright if this was the Big C.

Looks like they're moving him up to a much better hospital up in Cleveland. (You can smirk, but the Cleveland Clinic is actually REALLY good.) Whatever's going on in his brain is apparently less swollen since they put him on steroids.

Larry said they're gonna try to have a quiet night at home, while my stepsister and sister-in-law go up to Cleveland and keep an eye on Matt. I'm relieved; they shouldn't be driving after dark.

Supposedly, we'll know a lot more by early afternoon tomorrow, after they've had a closer look at him. I dunno. I'm already really braced for the worst, so any good news at all would be a net win right now.

I'm okay, just worried about the impact this is gonna have on people I love. As long as I don't fuck up any of my obligations to my family, I'll be okay. But it all still makes me furious on my brother's behalf. Rant about the cruelty of nature another day.

I mean, there's a lot I could complain about, regarding the course of my life. But Anthy brought up one real good point that's made me feel a bit better:

Not a hell of a lot of people can say they're depicted in a tarot deck. It's not quite the kind of immortality I set out for, but... you know, it's pretty fuckin' cool.

(9 of Wands in the Silicon Dawn Tarot, in case you're curious! Anthy has flattered me greatly in that picture, although when I take proper care of it, yes, my hair really is that perfect. =^____^= )

Right now life in general feels kinda like rolling down a steep hill in a barrel. Parts of it are undeniably kinda fun and exciting, but it's increasingly clear not everyone will come out of it all right.

I want to lean my head out and scream, "Whee! This is terrible!", and mean every word of it, except I'm afraid of catching a(nother) rock in the teeth.

Not that anyone can make any damn sense out of what I'm saying anyhow. Not while I'm still spinning down a hill.

Maybe for me, it will actually end in something other than a plunge down a ravine. It looks like my brother is getting the ravine, and while I can't say I'd go in his place, I still want to throttle the SOB who left a ravine there in the first place.

Not much news on Matt (stepbrother). They're leaning towards treating the lung with surgery and the brain mass with steroids, I guess? Everything's being conveyed through my mom, and while she's a very intelligent and lucid woman normally... she's been through a lot lately.

If nothing else, Matt's apparently really tired but often conscious and joking around pretty coherently when he's awake. That's a big relief. Honestly... this is gonna sound gruesome... I can handle the idea of death a lot better than suffering. It's just the philosophical place I'm in.

Still. I'd really, really, really like to still have a brother this Christmas. -_-

@mmsword *hugs* Thank you so much. You've been a lot of help through all this crappy past year, so... yeah. It means a lot to me.

As for my stepbrother, I'm hoping for news tomorrow, but honestly, I'm pretty well braced for it to not be so good. He and I barely communicate except when I'm visiting, so the effect of all this is softened a bit. To be brutally honest, it doesn't affect my own emotional bottom line that much, it's just so fucking unfair to so many people I really care about. >_<

As far as I'm concerned, capitalism is what's killing my stepbrother. Matt has worked his whole life in blue collar jobs, exposed to all kinds of nasty shit-- lawn care products, decrepit old buildings, construction site soil.

And I mean, our hometown is exactly the kind of industrial shithole where you find out they've been "putting that shit in the water" for thirty years now.

Maybe it was just some errant strand of protein, but... I can't help trying to connect it to all the shit he was exposed to over the years. He just fits that narrative so perfectly, the innocent hard-working guy chewed up and spat out. He's going to be one more victim of this machine-monster.

I want to throw some Dow CEO off a bridge or something. I want to break the things that allow that person to make a living. I want to reach through time and space and twist some of _their_ DNA into knots.

"You're gonna see the credits roll. Then there's gonna be 30 seconds of black silence. Then you're gonna see the pee tape." -- Anthy, re: the final episode of "Drumpf!"

*now with free bonus context!

On top of everything else, the news about my brothers is redlining all my phobias about mortality. I already worry, literally every day, about dying young and leaving people like Peg and my mom to fend for themselves.

It puts this weird pressure on me of "okay, if my stepbrother is in mortal peril, I DEFINITELY am not allowed to die." And let's face it, I have never been a real fit person. My dad dying young-- younger than I am now-- from heart problems fucked me up pretty good. And now my stepbrother is fixing to leave us at about the same age Dad was, and it's just... a lot.

I shouldn't start mourning for Matt just yet. We haven't even gotten a formal diagnosis. Though I have something terrible to confess: I had already mourned for my stepdad before he pulled off his miracle and puled through for us all. And I'm glad I did. It made everything feel like a gift after he made it.

I don't know. Matt's from exactly the same stock. His dad and grandpa have both survived some real shit, and his grandma didn't go easy. Maybe he'll be okay. Maybe there'll be someone there for my mom when my stepdad's gone, after all. Maybe I won't have to drag Peg all the way to god-forsaken Ohio someday to watch me do Dutiful Italian Son things.

Maybe I'll be lucky if I make it that long. But fuck, I've been convinced I would be dead within a year since I was... hmmm... around 12? I swore when I turned 40 I would give myself the present of just not sweating this stuff anymore, but... every time my heart skips a beat or I don't pee right or my back seizes or whatever, I remember that shit HAS to start going wrong eventually.

And sometimes it just all breaks, right out of the blue, and if you're lucky you get enough time to say goodbye. And I'm just now realizing I haven't ever really lost anyone my own age, and I just want to punch a god in the nuts right now because this can't possibly be how being a human being works.

I was a fool to run away. I'm just gonna swallow my pride and say it.

The cis slurs -- and YES, they were clearly slurs in this case, they were literally making a pun off "cistern" and comparing cis people to toilets -- got to me, and they will probably continue to get to me.

But that's not any of your faults. None of you have ever been a problem -- it's just what I get when I wander into any _other_ Masto neighborhood. I don't think I can endure the next few months without y'all.

I do really need to cut down radically on my social media stuff, though. It doesn't feel... good anymore.

But anyway. You were basically amazing with the outpouring of support today. I'll keep you up to date on my stepbrother's condition. We really don't know that much yet, and right now I'm just trying to figure out what my job is right now, emotionally and in terms of what the fuck I can do for my family.

I'm overwhelmed, but I'm grateful you're here. I will probably still be really quiet here for a while unless I need commiseration, and I apologize if I am (if I remain?) a net drain on people's emotional resources. Better days are ahead, surely?

@mawr Oh shit. Been there, Mawr, I'm so sorry.

@Balina You should be receiving your special venom-safe kevlar manticore-petting gloves, along with a VIP pass and your honorary Martian citizenship papers, within 10-12 weeks. <3