Why I Do It: Confessions from a Mercenary

Hector and Lydia.JPG


There’s this thing he likes to do after every big meeting. Or conference. He does both now.

He comes up to us, me and his assistant, and turns away, eyes narrowing as he waits for his assistant to slip his overcoat on for him.

I don’t know what he looks at so intently during this transaction; but it’s definitely not the assistant. Poor thing, she should really look for a job elsewhere.

The first few times it happened, I thought it was just him being the rich entitled prick we all think he is.

All of a sudden he will walk away at a brisk space, and I will need to jog for a moment to catch up with him.

The assistant never hurries up because she’s quite tangibly sick of him, which I think he secretly enjoys.

Once I’m at his side, he’ll look at me finally and that stern exterior will crack open for a moment.

Every time, he’ll smile and roll his eyes.

Like Can you believe we’re actually doing this?

Continue reading “Why I Do It: Confessions from a Mercenary”


Newsletter Announcement!

Hey gang!  I’m excited to share with you guys that I’m starting my own newsletter!  Click here if you are interested.

I am starting it because I took my own advice for once, and I am taking myself seriously.  I have started working as a freelance writer in addition to my Barista job and honestly, it’s been going really well so far!

I have three different publishers interested in drafts for essays from me, and I actually signed a contract a few days ago for one essay.  Which is weird.  It’s weird getting paid for this sort of thing right out of the gate.  Especially when it’s an essay on my high school bully.

No one tell him, okay?  Oy.

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Drop the Binary: Trans Thoughts on the Women’s March


While I would love to completely be on board with the Women’s March, I unfortunately cannot, because I am trans.

As an individual, living and breathing in this moment, I do not necessarily care how I personally fit into the branch of womanhood. I additionally do not feel envious of ciswomen who have vaginas, nor do I feel left out, as some like to describe us. I am proud of my body, and it makes me angry when someone asserts that my reservations about the March must come my obvious shame.

What I do care about is the regressive language of the Women’s March. And before a ciswoman comes in to shoot me down: Yes, I understand that reproductive rights are at risk, and yes, I understand that Pussy is the word behind the March because of what the President of the United States said when bragging about the sexual assault he has committed.

Women are not just Pussies and Uteruses: to define them as such is incredibly regressive to everyone.

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Steamed Hams But It’s a Top 10 List

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Ah! Superintendent Reader! Welcome! Hope you’re prepared for an incredible Top 10 list!


It is fascinating in this day and age that after countless hours animators toiled over crafting the perfect comedy scene, some idiot on the internet can mangle it within hours and put it out there on the internet for people to not only consume — but be touched by.

I graduated from film school in 2015 and I must say, there are some Steamed hams projects that blow the $10,000 projects I worked on out of the water.  And when I say some, I mean most.  And when I say some Steamed Hams projects, I include the ones like Steamed Hams but every m is MMMMMMMMMM  that peak early and don’t warrant coMMMMMMMpleting.

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New Year, New Me(atwad)


Dear Readers,

I warn you now because I am about to talk about myself in great detail.  Leave this place while you still can.

When I was in high school, I would always do a Big End of the Year Discussion with myself, where I would pace outside my parents’ condo for hours, talking about myself and analyzing how I changed. This is a routine that faded away as time went on and at first, I thought it was because I was getting older and that my self reflections were immature.

The reality was that I wasn’t analyzing anymore because there was nothing to say; I had stopped evolving.

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The Devil Does Sammy Davis Jr. Impressions


THE COMEDIANS — “The Red Carpet” Episode 102 (Airs Thursday, April 23, 10:00 pm e/p) — Pictured: (l-r) Billy Crystal as Billy, Josh Gad as Josh. CR: Ray Mickshaw/FX

Art is a form of communication; a way to express feelings between people in a way that makes sense to the parties involved. This communication does not work without honesty. The paradox that has ailed the media industry is that any time you factor money into something, a certain amount of honesty is generally stripped from it.

Many directors start off so strong and then end up making The Martian, or some self-reflective television show about the life of an aging comedian, which is apparently the peak of success in the comedy world because they keep popping up all over the place. One show in particular stood out to me, a mockumentary styled sketch show, The Comedians, starring Billy Crystal and Josh Gad as themselves.

Continue reading “The Devil Does Sammy Davis Jr. Impressions”

My Journey Growing Apart from Transparent as a Transwoman


I binge watched Transparent Season 1 at the tail end of 2014. In that moment, I was a pre-everything transgirl who had finally passed the point of no return, a person who identified so strongly in her heart with being trans that coming out had become a Doomsday Clock. I was a girl struggling to grow her hair out, hair that would make the Peter Parker from Spider-Man 3 proud. And I was a girl ready to open up the floodgates.

Every night for a week, I would curl up on the couch, laptop directly in front of my face, and watch the show. I had never felt so seen before in my life. Even though the show was obviously engineered to appeal to as many people as possible, it felt like the show was in direct communication with me. Like it wanted me to stand up and change my life.

When I watched Season 2, I was a transgirl who was used to changing behind dumpsters to avoid outing myself to friends I wasn’t ready to tell yet. It was at this time that I realized that this show wasn’t about me; it was about an incredibly wealthy white Jewish woman who doesn’t have a care in the world.

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Sad Internet People

I met my favorite Let’s Player
At a convention
He wore a giant Mario hat
And my heart blasted out of my chest when I saw him

I watched him for hundreds of hours
A man who had saved me from panic attacks
From suicide
From being alone

His head bowed down to his chest
Saying “Pew! Pew!”
At his 3DS
Both screens black

Unable to raise his voice
To ask some people
If they could
Take a picture of us

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Measure of a Mook: Chapter 8 (a Kim Possible fanfic)


The Generator: Drakken’s Lair
July 26, 2007: 3:34PM

The entire lair started to shake violently. Kim, Ron, Rufus, Shego, and Drakken were all thrown against the guardrails, the floor cracking beneath their feet. Kim pulled herself back up to her feet, and looked to Shego.

“Tell me there’s an escape plan,” Kim grunted.

“Ya think I’d still be standing here if there was enough time to get to it?!” Shego shot back as she held onto Drakken with one hand. Had it not been for her, his unconscious body would have fallen into the pit. This was bad.


Kim’s jaw dropped. At least Middleton’s safe? she forced herself to think.

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Measure of a Mook: Chapter 7 (a Kim Possible fanfic)

Moam7“So what are you going to do with the East Coast after you destroy it? Take over the fish market?”

“What do I look like? A—actually…”

The Generator: Drakken’s Lair
July 26, 2007: 3:19PM

“…that’s not a bad idea,” Drakken mused, stepping backwards onto a platform with its own guardrails set up. Rapping his fingers against the dashboard, he flicked a switch and the platform started rising.

“But no!” Drakken shouted as the platform stopped at Ron’s eye level. “That is not my big plan.”

“So what is your big plan, Doc?” Ron smiled, his smirk combined with his raised eyebrow was threatening on many levels. His sheer confidence was beating Drakken down.

“And why would I tell you that?” Drakken pouted, crossing his arms.

“Yeah you’re right,” Ron sighed. “It’s probably the lamest plan ever. Lamer than Drakkanada.”

“Aaaaaaaaah!” Drakken shouted, waving his finger. “I was…going through some stuff when that happened. But! Feast your eyes on this!” Drakken cried out, turning to face the wall behind them just in time to watch a large television screen descending from the ceiling.

Continue reading “Measure of a Mook: Chapter 7 (a Kim Possible fanfic)”