Wild Unicorn Herd

A POC/non-white/mixie nerd scrapbook. Because we’re awesome.

I find a purposeless universe to be far more inspiring and far less bleak, because it means that the meaning in our lives is the meaning we create. It is not imposed on us by some other entity…The meaning in my life is the meaning I make, and the quality of my life is the quality of my actions.

Seeing myself as an insignificant being in a purposeless universe inspires me to say: I am here for this little bit of time, I should make the most of my existence and make meaning in my life by the meaning of my actions. I find it far more humble to believe that than to assume that the universe was made for me.

Lawrence Krauss  (via scientificpunkrock)

sorry to bust your bubble but he creeps on women, has been accused of sexual assault, is definitely buddy-buddy with a notorious sex offender, how’s that search for meaning going larry

dropping back in

every now and then deluxvivens tweets something poc-in-sf-related that makes me think, like, this would be perfect for my tumblr, why don’t I post it on my tumblr…but I’ve been away so long. I didn’t even blog about Pacific Rim guise.

in some ways I feel I’ve abandoned a duty, because I wanted to make a scrapbook, a resource, about POC in sci-fi/fantasy. I still think it’s important. But jesus christ I am not going to fucking bother keeping up with SFWA shenanigans and the horrible gurgles of white male nerd culture dying a slow hard death. If someone wants to take over this blog…drop me a line, srsly.

but I also started this because I felt I had to compartmentalize my life, that it wasn’t “safe” to talk about race or acknowledge my ethnicity in my real life. It took a long time to come to terms with it; I felt I had to “choose” between ~identifying as white or as POC; and finally I find myself comfortable in the ambiguous space between, that people will read me as they read me, and I can’t control that but at least I am not going to equivocate about who I am or where I come from. I don’t fit into tidy narratives or binaries but that’s a problem with them not me. I no longer need a secret online space to vent because I speak up in my real life now. I can squee about POC-in-sf stuff on my main accounts and irl and I’m not shy or ashamed because it’s not something to be shy or ashamed about.

and I have moved from being an observer of politics to a doer. there is so much more to my city than rob ford. The stuff I do at the AMC I can also do in my own backyard so to speak — the margins of the city where deindustrialization has devastated local economies and entire ethnicities get criminalized by cops and reporters alike. at the very fucking least I can work slowly, gradually towards getting the bus to run more often. no idea how to fix public housing but that’s a life’s work. both involve dismantling the pernicious belief that cities should be profit-making enterprises first and places to live second.

so yeah, basically I have bigger things going on in my life than the Internet and when I have spare time I just want to look at pictures of people’s cats.

I popped in to write this because 1) i feel like I left people hanging and stuff, didn’t want to just disappear with no explanation, and 2) right now I just need to vent a bit about how so many ppl in my life (also, me) are seriously fucked-up people due to traumatic circumstances and our coping mechanisms are shitty and counterproductive and end up with us being dicks to each other. like jesus these days I’m usually so depressed I have a hard time being conscious and feeding the cat and doing the bare minimum of work, I can no longer work around people’s self-destructive habits or phobias or suicidality or debilitating PTSD or existential ennui. so I end up detaching and drifting away or, if that’s not possible, bottling up frustration till I snap. I’m sure there’s people who feel the same way about me. we hurt each other so badly and it’s not enough to say “disability!”, like yeah, okay, that’s why, but where do we go from here??

giving a fuck is like donating an organ. everyone deserves to have a fuck given about them when they need it, but you can’t point at someone and order them to give a fuck about a specific person, even if the need is dire, because hey, bodily autonomy. that metaphor got away from me. whatever.

anyway I’m still gonna check my asks every now and then so, you know, if you want to be the next wildunicornherd or if you have questions about toronto politics or if you want to call me a sellout because I have become a goddamn reformer or if you have complicated mixie feels or if there is an up-and-coming WOC creator in sf/fantasy/etc. to keep an eye on, *makes “call me” sign*