Right, so. There's been some news, mostly distributed through Facebook and Twitter, but for those who don't get their Todd-related news from those sources:

On the condition that I finish my doctorate before the end of August (which is likely), I will be spending next year as a postdoctoral researcher at the GAMBIT Game Lab at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It's... pretty [eff!]ing exciting.

Also, for attendees of Penny Arcade Expo, I'll be on a panel with some other academics out there this September speaking about the study of games, what we do, and how we got into it.

That... is also pretty [eff!]ing exciting.

Of course, this brings up two important things --
Boston peeps: I need to find a place to live, STAT, and I don't have a ton of money. If anyone has suggestions for where to look for affordable and not slum-like living conditions, I am all ears.

Seattle peeps: Would any of you be willing to put me up for the duration of PAX on Labor Day weekend? ^_^ I hate to presume upon people like that, but in September I will be really, really low on funds after moving and paying deposit on a new place, and if I can't conserve some cash I might not get to make that trip.

All that being said, though, it's a pretty awesome month to be me, I think.

So today I was looking through my lina (at) inverse.org mail. Old, old mail. Old old old mail.

A lot of what I found were CotA2/3 logs, logs from when I was an even worse roleplayer than I am now, and did terrible things in scenes, and must have just... ruined it for everyone, especially since it was a comics MU* and I was in my anime nerd phase something terrible back then. I doubt any of them will ever see this (guys from the Underground, especially... Topaz, Gwen, Dean, Jacob, Willow, Alicia... you were more forgiving than I deserved) but thank you for my good memories, at least.

That said. I also discovered the following email, which I had tucked away in my saved letters:

( Cut for length. )

I hope I replied to him. It was 2001, which was a Long Time Ago and in many ways a Galaxy Far Far Away, so I can't really know. He had a yahoo.com address and I can't really find mention of it, so I'm terrified to email said person out of nowhere.

I really hope I did, though.

For some reason reading this just closed a hand around my heart. I don't even know why. What a simple thing, a message from a stranger who felt I had expressed a message he shared in some way. Probably a message that, I'm sorry to say, nowadays I would probably dismiss as the silly, emotionally-powered rantings of a person I don't "think I am anymore."

But it comes on the heels of a very low period for me, where job application rejections have my self-esteem terribly low, where not getting the work done on my dissertation that needs doing done has my self-esteem terribly low, where I'm starting to feel the hopelessness of the situation grip me by the face, and being in a situation where I basically am alone 90% of the week and sort of just have to power through it on my own. If I were still seeing the therapist there would be a conversation an hour long where the words "social support network" would get repeated about 8 zillion times. Even my mother -- who I specifically and purposefully spare the worst of my lowest periods -- was so struck by our last conversation she mailed me a letter, an ACTUAL PHYSICAL LETTER, in which every possible piece of motherly advice that has... I can't even describe it. The content ranged from trying to remind me of my capabilities and that she feels proud to insisting I eat regular meals and daily exercise. It really ran the gamut.

This was the state I was in when I read an infamous series of articles from the Chronicle of Higher Ed in which... well. Lemme just paste how I explained it to Mia earlier:

Me: And the less I get done the more that need grows and the more terrified I feel... I really should not have read that guy's article in the Chronicle this weekend, it was a really, really bad idea
Mia: ah
Mia: i only skimmed it
Me: Summary: all hope is lost
Mia: seems a bit harsh
Me: The part where he's said that grade inflation and the need for cheap labor means people who probably don't deserve to be in grad school are there was my second favorite part
Me: Next to the part where there's not any jobs because nobody's leaving the profession so you're going to be an underpaid adjunct forever
Mia: oh please
Mia: its a bad year for comm but that's an aberraton
Me: If you think I'm being hyperbolic/making this up, I'm not kidding, he really says this shit

And then I see this email and... I was just sort of taken aback by my own emotional response. Very weird.

I dunno. Things are strange right now. I'm working steadily and teaching is going alright so things seem to be stable but... man. The nostalgia thing just hit me in the face like a wrecking ball today.

Guys! Guys guys! I know this site technically counts, but:

Now I am a blogger lawl.

I think I'm going to try and update it with something at least weekly if possible... Saturday morning is probably a good time. I know I've already got something on Bayonetta I can throw up there.

Open to suggestions on a new theme, BTW. That one is hella ugly.

Okay. So I know I have such a squeaky clean image and this will shock you all, but I want to note that the following is a slightly over the top topic, even for me, so I'm warning you now if you'd rather skip on. There, warning delivered.

So I poke at XTube now and then (link absolutely not work safe unless you are a sex worker or in porn), mostly because as someone who studies sexuality and is interested in issues of identity construction in porn, it's pretty fascinating. The ads alone are usually worth it... my favorites so far are for "It's Gonna Hurt" and "Haze Him!" which appear to be the same company and are just... wow. Yeah. Anyhow.

Linking through random things I was looking at led me to a user interested in chubs (sigh) and bears, and what interested me was their profession to the "celebration of fatness."

Something about that sentence struck me, and after some reflection I believe I've realized why.

If you read back in this journal far enough you'll find numerous encounters I've had with the crossing of body size and attractiveness. There was a (friends-locked) post a while back grappling with the gay community's use of labels and words like "chub," for example. I know one of the things I have consistently struggled with is the idea that things about my body I see as flaws (my size/body type being one of them) could be attractive to someone else. It's very difficult to wrap your head around that idea, because your emotions pull you in two directions: change because you hate it, stasis because someone likes it. It's all very strange.

Certainly, there are people out there -- and I say this as a factual matter of record rather than a sort of grudging acknowledgment -- who find body types like mine attractive. That much is not in dispute. Yet I find the phrase "the celebration of fatness" decidedly unnerving because it feels like it goes in a very strange direction, emotionally and mentally, from where I am.

Look at it like this: I know being overweight is not healthy. I know that for 99.99% of people it's not attractive (with reactions ranging from simple dislike to outright hostility, in my experience). Yet at the same time, until such a point where I lose enough weight to make a difference, that's where I am. I'm a big fat guy. Denial is unproductive in that regard. But as long as that's the case, as long as that's where the facts are, then it seems like I should be able to find a way to find myself if not "attractive" then at least not "disgusting/hideous/ugly." I haven't really, yet; I still think of myself as disgusting/hideous/ugly. But the idea, or so I am told, is that even if you are fat there should be a way for you to come to terms with your appearance. If not "finding attractive" then at least "being at peace with." I recognize all that.

Yet I feel like "celebration of fatness" takes that to a disturbing level. Of course I want people to find me attractive in some way. And occasionally, because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it may be that someone will find me attractive for reasons that are inexplicable to me... based on things I don't see, or things I don't agree with. But that's not about celebrating an unhealthy condition. It feels to me like there's this line between "I have enough self-esteem to be at peace with how I look" and "I'm going to celebrate something overwhelmingly negative in order to be at peace with how I look."

I know I'm not making a very clear distinction, there, and that this post has rambled a bit. But I'm curious: do people understand what I just said? Like, does the point make sense? I know one of the scarier things I've heard of is "gainers": guys who are into gaining as much weight as possible. That sends shivers down my spine. To me that's a very tenuous step away from something like "bug chasing," a phenomenon I still hope and pray is a myth (for those who don't know, bug chasers purportedly seek out people with HIV or AIDS to sleep with in the hope of infection, or something along those lines).

Anyhow, that was on my mind and I felt like discussing it a bit. I don't know. Discussion welcome.

Today were the calling hours, services, and a greeting period/dinner afterward. It was nice; Grandpa was known to so many people in this area and a lot (a lot) of people turned out, all with great stories about how he became part of their lives. It was comforting to know that his generosity and helpfulness were not forgotten by others. I spoke a bit during the service, even quoting Liu Bei's last words to his sons from Three Kingdoms: "If you see a good that can be done, no matter how small, then do it," because I think it really exemplified Art Corrice. He helped countless people in his lifetime, without recompense and of his own initiation, not because it benefitted him nor that it was the "right/acceptable" thing to do, but rather because the chance to help someone and improve their lot was there in front of him.

I also told a story about Santa Claus, which I will share with you.

When I was 14 or so, I was in my grandfather's truck coming to his home during one of central NY's famous lake-effect blizzards. We were at the bottom of a hill on County Route 12 in Central Square, a nasty one even in good weather. A man in a very expensive-looking car, wearing an expensive-looking jacket, was in a ditch. Without a word, Art Corrice pulled his truck over, and told me to stay inside. Then he got out, he talked with the man, he hooked up chains, and he pulled this total stranger out of that ditch. The man, grateful, tried to pay my grandfather, who simply shook his head, shook the man's hand, and got back in his truck. Astounded, I looked at him and said, with total conviction: "You really are Santa Claus."

I didn't say some of the obvious that my family already knows, but I'll tell you this. My grandfather was gruff, a bit macho, short-tempered. But he had a heart as big as the sea. He expected nothing in return from anyone and he gave of himself to everyone he met. When I said on Twitter that I could never be more proud than to be of his line, I meant it. I don't have a lot in common with him, but I know that when I have the impulse to help someone because they need it, that is his voice and his legacy making itself known. In the wake of his death I am more aware of my more selfish decisions, and that's probably as it should be. What he gave to me, to my family, and to so many others, we have a duty to carry forward.

Before I get any more melodramatic and boring, I'll close by saying: Art Corrice embodied the spirit of Santa Claus as much as he looked the part. In a world where empathy and giving are put on the back burner he gave of himself to anyone who needed it, every single day. The world is worse off with him gone and I hope I can do, in some small way, a little bit to give back what we've all lost.

In closing, I'll leave you with two stories from the Syracuse Post-Standard:
Santa look-alike Art Corrice of Central Square dies (1/7)
"I am Santa Claus" (reprint from 12/25/07)

So I have mentioned this on twitter a few times, but since this has more readership: I'll be away starting tonight and should be back Monday afternoon. I'm flying back to Syracuse so I can attend my grandfather's services. Many of you have already wished me and my family well, and I thank you for that. As I've told many, when my grandmother died in 2004 he kind of... gave up, and his health was getting slowly but steadily worse. I was very fortunate to get to see him when I was home for Christmas. As I've discussed a couple times with wisclassic, I'm actually... okay, emotionally, though it's a complex feeling. I'm mostly worried about my mother.

In any event, I'll be back on Monday afternoon.

I know there are many that might find this irreverent, but I personally felt the need to combine this information part of the post with something funny I saw on the net today... I don't know why. I know that humor is my way of defusing bad situations (even black humor in dire situations, a trait that gets me in trouble a LOT). In any event, I saw this today after following a link in a twitter post by shadrad and I just had to share it with you:



Yeah.

Well, it's about that time. Every year, a few days before Christmas, I pack up the sleigh and head up to Syracuse to be with my extended family for the holiday. Every year, a few days before packing up the sleigh, I make an LJ post telling people that I'll be gone for a week or so and mostly away from places I usually am at like MotM and WoW and IRC and the like.

As foretold by prophecy, this is that LJ post.

So yeah. In case I didn't bring it up, I have indeed returned to the therapist. We've met twice? three times? since I made that decision. The truth is that, around that time, I was at a pretty low point: I was exhausted from the job application process, had just found out about the Funding Nightmare '09, was about to turn 31... not fun. Since then some problems have been resolved, others have arisen. Life goes on, I suppose.

The theme in those three sessions appears to be this:
1.) I have a higher than average ability to examine, analyze, and deconstruct events and people around me
2.) Apparently I have a debilitating fear of turning that lens inward

This actually isn't anything particularly new therapy-wise, since I think the last thing she said to me was that it seemed like I had zero insight into anything about myself. I've given up on trying to think of what she says as "true" or "false" anymore since to be honest, it's not helpful. If she says it, that's what she thinks.

Probably the major question she had last time, however, is: why do you give so much weight to the negatives? Why do you dislike yourself so much? What is it that's driving this?

Yeah. Those are not questions I even have a point of entry for answering and that was what I told her. Somewhat understandably, she said that they weren't questions with easy answers. You'll notice the tag on this post, however -- "pursuing my true self" -- is friendslocked for every post other than this one. For the most part my posts on the therapy experience have been just me reporting what is going on. At this point, though... I'm set to meet her again this coming Friday and I really don't have even the remotest idea what is going to get said. No amount of meditation is helping. I am free associating, I guess, but I figured giving the world at large a chance to chime in might be helpful. I don't even really know at this point.

Why do I give so much weight to the negative? I don't know. I don't want that to turn into some sob story -- "boohoo so much terrible stuff has happened to me wah" -- because 1.) it's not true in the strictest sense and 2.) I don't want to start doing Suffering One-Upsmanship where everyone tries to decide who's suffered the most like it's some sort of prize. Anyhow.

Something similar to impostor syndrome is almost certainly to blame here in some regard, but part of me thinks that's just part of being a graduate student (and having been a student, with all its attendant lack of control over your own life, for quite a while now). I have never been able to accept compliments, and I'm not sure why. In a psychoanalytic way, I think it goes back somewhat to my childhood, when because I was different (in many ways, pick your favorite) I got emotionally and physically abused by my peer group. My well-meaning family would tell me that the other kids were jealous of something I had, or that someday I'd show them all because I was destined for great success. I say "well-meaning" because they were trying to raise my self-esteem to compensate, but the fact is I'm not particularly special, and many of the jerks and assholes who made my life hell in grade/middle/high school are now well-placed in good positions, living happy lives. I meanwhile am in massive debt and am still in college at 31. Finding out that all their building-up is basically a fantasy intended to keep me going really just makes accepting compliments hard, in general.

As for the rest, I can see where the whole impostor thing comes in. Being told you've done well, or have some positive quality, is usually the setup to finding out that's not actually true. I can tell you right now, that's got to be at least part of the issue with ever accepting the idea that I would be/could be attractive. Not to get overly quantitative, but when you have maybe one person tell you that, and then in the same day walk down the street getting looks (or if you're super unlucky, actual spoken comments) of derision or disgust from multiple angles... which of those are you going to give the weight to? When the therapist asked me why I care what jerks think, to put it bluntly, my response was: "Because there's a lot more of them than there are of me." But I mean, in your head, that's how it sounds. If you're never going to be attractive except to a very miniscule fraction of the world, then why would you ever use that word to refer to yourself? Why would you like the way you look? To me that feels like denial.

Intelligence or success are similar, really. The most I will admit on that front is that I'm perhaps a little quicker on the uptake than the average American. But, really... consider my social circle. Pretty much everyone in it is more intelligent than I am. I'm not very well read, nor can I do anything complex or technical, really. All the things I can do -- the sorts of things I've supposedly trained myself to do as a career -- the people around me routinely do, everyday, at the same functional level and with none of the training. So why would I ever call myself intelligent? Again, that feels like either arrogance or denial. I look at all the smart and successful (and pretty and skilled and whatever'ed) people around me, and it's just impossible to think of myself in the same way. Comparatively, I don't have anything to offer. It's... well, to be honest, it's a bit like being back on the fourth floor of Chadbourne, where everyone I knew was just... better than me, at basically everything. I was always the slowest of the group, mentally; I had no skills to speak of, nothing to offer. Consequently I always felt like I was on the outside, because I just couldn't apply to myself the same sort of... whatever... I could to everyone else. For a dim third on this front, consider my entire relationship with laechim.

I know what is in some peoples' heads, reading this: "why do you compare yourself to other people so much/care what they think?" Because I'm a human being. Every day I interact with somebody, one way or another. We're social beings, and because of the way language works we define our universe in a collective, social way. I care what other people think because it's those other people who decide things like whether or not I get an apartment or a job; if my research is good enough to publish; if I can have a credit card. Those aren't great examples, but they suffice for my point. Like I said about jerks, there's a lot more of other people in the world than there are of me. Even if it's not directly at me, what they think of me counts for something.

Now I'm babbling... probably because I'm writing this on not much sleep. I'm not even sure what my point was anymore. A call for help brainstorming? Insights I might have missed? I don't even know. I just... don't have a way to answer her questions at all, no entry point into it, that isn't just a reflection of the problem ("I focus on the negative because there's no positive"), for example. I think considering it's almost 9am, I should just stop and get some sleep.

Been a while since there was one of these, but: new vocab word!

parrotherapist(n.): An individual who uses an individual's own words -- particularly direct, word-for-word quotes -- in an attempt to convince them that something they believe or say is, in fact, dubious or incorrect. See also parrotherapy.

Sample usage:
Me: I'm not afraid, per se.
wisclassic: "Todd Harper" (9:35:15 PM): But I'm full of fear anyway.
Me: Yes, thank you, Parrotherapist.

So, La Familia de Stonewall and their eight zillion spinoff guilds got Guild of the Month over on Wow.com. Now, on the one hand, in my experience La Familia started with a bunch of people from Stonewall Champions who were, uh, annoying (in my opinon, I don't speak for Stonewall as a guild) splitting off to do their own thing. So my experiences with them haven't been so positive, BUT more visibility is good, and if the people in those guilds are having fun together, that's what matters. So I was happy to see them get this.

But oh man, you guys. The comments! The posted comments! I encourage you to read all five pages so far, and skip to the ones that are almost greyed-out entirely because really, they are the hate speech where all the fun is.

This one from "clericorpse" on page 4 is by far my favorite:
"The reason there is so much gay hate out there nowadays is due to constantly having their "lifestyle" shoved down our throats no pun intended."

As I said to miggy: AHAHAHA YES. "YOUR GAYNESS IS LIKE A BIG COCK I'M FORCED TO SUCK." That is fantastic. I want t-shirts made.

There's the traditional rogues gallery of "keep your gayness out of my fantasy game" and "something something Bible something" and "why do you have to be so openly gay? Why can't you stay sequestered in the closet like you're supposed to?" I really need to take a cue from karenhealey and make a No Gays In Gaming bingo board.

Anyhow. Fun times. I did like the one commenter who gave props for posting it on Transgender Day of Remembrance... I know at least one person who celebrated that by going to the statue of Riff Raff in Hamilton, NZ. Because where better, really, to do so?