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It was a dark and stormy night.

There was a sexual harasser on the loose.

Somebody who had been learning programming well told her mentor that she was a feminist.

A few hundred miles away there was a great guy who had dated over 20 different women that year alone and was rejected every time and was still a virgin. His married sister had sex on his couch with a man who was not her husband.

In the nearby city of Pine Rapids, Iowa, a frustrated trans woman reached her limit of reading about the drivel womyn-born-womyn publish about fields they don't understand. Maybe it was gamergate that made her crack, or maybe it was systemd.

In Derry, Maine, her estranged sister, who had begun living as a man, Maxfield Stanton, three years ago, was accused the day before yesterday of sexually assaulting a mutual friend of a man he had started to develop feelings for.

-=-

Don't worry. I'll tie this all together in scene 24.

I've scrambled my password and email on the green site. I had to use Chrome under Windows! Midori on BodhiLinux wouldn't work! Good riddance to that site.

I've made an account on the blue site just to reserve this username, but I can't figure out how to scramble it quite yet. Maybe I'm just too confused at life at the moment.

I'm now scrambling my password and email here.

It's not you; it's me.

This has been the year from hell, and it's not over yet.

Clearly my knowledge about feminism, or at least those who call themselves feminists, is about 15 years old. Some of it may still be true to a certain degree, but I feel I no longer know what the movement is and my comments earlier today were probably putting blame on the wrong people. Thus, I'm as guilty as the feminists of 15 years ago for what they did to me.

Given enough time, everything changes.

I may be returning, but not with this UID. You won't need to hear any more trans-this cis-that from me, hopefully. I understand that may no longer be an issue for the feminists, so it's no longer an issue for me.

Yet, I'm clearly triggered on a level that indicates PTSD just by the word feminism. I'll be seeking treatment. Things will change, one way or another. Either I end up in a gutter or I get well and go on to die when I'm 90. Either way, the cycle of death and rebirth continues, and afterwards I'll be somebody even more strange who won't even remember being here as gamers and male programmers come under increasing fire for all that we can guess are ulterior motives.

There's a new-age movement of the future for you: mediums who help people trawl through old message boards from the first quarter of the 21st century to attempt to find their previous life.

It's been great.

Goodbye