The internet is for porn.

In media studies today and yesterday, it was announced that we were to watch a documentary about porn. Or rather, our teacher threw us in with 'today, we're going to watch porn!' and I, along with most of the class of 15, cheered.

But the documentary, while thought provoking, is also incredibly representative of the current world we live in, and presumptions that just aren't true.

For one, it mostly only looked at how porn was affecting teenage boys. This is socially accepted as the main viewers of porn, sure, but that's only because it's somehow frowned upon for girls to go anywhere near it. Like they're less worthy of investigating that side of things than the male population. But that's just stupid, because if they're supposed to be mostly innocent, but the boys want to have sex with them, then surely they should be allowed to want that back. And yet the minute a girl might admit to watching porn, she's viewed as less when boys can joke about it. There was no mention of how it affects girls other than them being victims of abuse because of it.

Also, the only porn they discussed was violent and heterosexual, with the males dominating. Now, I know full fucking well that that isn't all that there is. Sure, it's a percentage, of course it is. If you can think of it, there's probably a video of it. But that isn't all kids watch.

And the ways people are considering stopping this moral panic? Filters, bans. You can't ban things on the internet. People will always find ways, and if you tell someone they can't see something, they will only be more intent on finding it. Besides, if you filter your kids' internet access, at what point do you decide they're allowed it again?

I got cut off for two years because I found out I was trans* and started researching it, started conversing on tumblr with a boy named Rob in Canada, who identified at the time as genderqueer. He encouraged me, told me my parents would be fine. Said that it was tough, but I'd be okay. It took a lot of inspiration from him, and then my parents told me he was just using me for his own deluded needs, to convince himself of whatever his insanity claimed. They loudly implied he was mentally ill, that he was lying to me. It went against everything I'd read in his blog, everything I felt personally, and I knew they were full of shit, but I was made to delete my internet accounts, change my names on other accounts, and unable to go online unless my mum was next to me, monitoring.

That's damaged me. It cut me off from my friends, messed up my psyche and is probably the main reason I need therapy. That is not the right way to raise kids when they start trying to find out more about themselves and the world.

If adults are so damn worried about kids of the new generation thinking porn is how sex is supposed to be, and trying to live up to those unrealistic expectations, then it's about time they started telling the kids that.

The school education in England, if not everywhere except Denmark or something? Oh Scandinavia teaches only the very basics of heterosexual sex. Nothing extravagant, only the most obvious shit that everyone knows anyway. Sex education classes are largely useless. They teach you how contraception works, about pregnancy, about how to apply a condom (a class I missed, co-coincidently, yet I still managed to use one without that previous knowledge), but they don't explain how homosexual men and women have sex with each other.

I have a strong memory of year five, in the cloakrooms, aged eight, talking with my friend about how the hell lesbians were supposed to have sex. I don't even know how I found out they existed, but it probably wasn't my parents. I think we got to the conclusion that they used their hands, but that's all we could figure out. And until I watched through Queer As Folk a few years back, I can't confirm that I really had any strong idea. But I'm sure as hell glad I worked it out.

As for two guys? I found that out by accident, through Torchwood fanfiction, chapter six of a fic that had been mostly nice up to that point, with nothing intense. I cried, because I didn't understand what I was reading, what was happening, and I was maybe 13.

That's another thing. I almost pointed out that they're ignoring erotica and online stories, but then I'd have to admit that I regularly write gay porn, and that would be a little awkward.

More and more, kids are forced to find out online how sex really works, because there's a difference between looking at diagrams in school textbooks to the real thing. And it's screwing up their perception and understanding of how things should be.

So how do we sort that out? Well, maybe adjust the curriculum, teach a little more than just vanilla hetero sex. Teach the kids that everybody watches porn, that there are lots of types, and that sure, the representations aren't always good, but sometimes they are. That there's no difference between who can and can't watch it just because of their gender. Hell, there's a specific part on the female body designed for pleasure so why is it assumed that they aren't allowed to us it?

Better yet, maybe the parents could tell their kids all of this. My generation as adults will probably be a lot better, because we're getting better at discussing it. We're not looking at the stuff online and being all 'in my day it was just glossy top-shelf magazines and sneaky videos that showed a little skin gosh this is horrific'.

Maybe, if kids are aware from a young age that whatever they see online isn't necessarily the real world, if they're taught that there is a lot of variety, we can stop freaking out about the idea that they're all being made into sex offenders or something absurd. Adults freaking out to other adults isn't addressing the people at hand that really need the attention.

And if we could teach girls to stop feeling like they aren't allowed to get off or watch porn because they're girls, that would be great, too. We've got a long way to go, especially in ol' England, but maybe my generation will help change that.

And I found a quote that best explains how I feel about how this is being handled. So, in the beautifully syrup-like words of Cecil Baldwin, in this recent episode of Welcome To Night Vale:

'Listeners, especially our younger listeners, consider this; when we talk about teenagers, we adults often talk with an air of scorn, of expectation or disappointment, and this can make people who are presently teenagers feel very defensive, but what everyone should understand is that none of us are talking to the teenagers that exist now, but to the teenagers that we once were. Al stupid mistakes, and lack of fear, and bodies that hadn't yet begun to slump into a lasting nothing. Any teenager who exists now, is incidental to the potent mix of nostalgia and shame with which we speak to our younger selves. May we al remember what it was like to be so young. May we remember it factually and not remember anything that is false, or incorrect. May we all be human. Beautiful. Stupid. Temporal. Endless.

Past performance is not a predictor of human results.'

Light up my room.

It seems my room will be changed around again on Thursday. It's my day off from school, because the teachers are striking against something once more, and my mum thinks my bed should be closer to the radiator across the room. On the good side, this gets me far from my brother and the rest of the family, when it comes down to locations on lower floors. On the other side, it puts me directly before the door, which gives me stress levels that hark back to when I was a kid, and couldn't sleep with my back to the door.

My parents get angry if I lock it, even though I can, but I don't take well to being snuck up on or woken suddenly, which is why I lock it.

This will also put me out of sight of the walls I'm allowed to pin things on, meaning I won't be able to see the super awesome glow in the dark posters Ivan gave me, because they're currently placed in perfect view of my bed as it is, and where my bed will be is around a corner.

We want to put curtains up, but I feel caged in on my own unless I can see the stars, or outside in general, at night, should I wish to. I only just got over that with the posters, because they glow in the dark and I can still see stars. It looks like a port-hole on the Enterprise.

But my main problem is that my mum is going to be spending time in the space I'd falsely believed to be my one haven. I know this is false, now, because two days in a row, my mum has been in here without me around, and tidied up. This is a problem on many levels.

I have a signed autograph from John Finnemore on my wardrobe, with my name on it, and a flyer from Over The Rainbow. I have a lighter in stupidly plain sight if you sit on my bed, for candles and meditation. I have some money on my desk that I've been saving up from when I get lunch money, so I can afford to get to London with Moony on our two year anniversary.

I have an entire box full of my name change papers, trans* documents about either transitioning, or the rights I have, copies of Pride Life, the gay magazine I get from Over The Rainbow sometimes, and a couple of trans* booklet things. All of it is the stuff I'm yet to show them because they'll react badly.

But more than anything, I find it uncomfortable to know somebody else has been in my personal space without my permission or my being there.

And on Thursday, I'll be there, but I'll also be hiding all this stuff, and my binder. More than anything else, on Thursday, I'm scared of the conversation we might have to go through. I don't want to be asked about anything, don't want to get into arguments or debates.

Really, I get that I need to get warmer in my room, but I have two duvets, I don't want to move everything again when I only just found a nice layout.

Focus on the out breath.

This evening, I tried out meditation again.

I stole borrowed a lighter from my brother's room, and lit up a purple candle I have in a holder on my bookshelf. I spent this evening tidying up my room, and I've got a little area between my bed and the wall where I now have a bohemian-looking recliner thing that goes on the floor. It's nicely shut off, so I can't see most of my room, and I can focus my attention.

Once all the lights were off, and all I had was the candle, I tried a different technique than last time. Instead of closing my eyes, I stared at it. I was in total darkness this time, but having light helped.

I don't know any proper rules or anything, so I just did the whole 'deep breath in, slow out' and so on, but my shoulders relaxed in ways that I didn't realise needed doing, and I feel a lot more aware of things, now. I ended up staring and breathing for ten minutes, and ended up with a nice mantra.

In: I do not need their support or understanding to be happy 
Out:  Their ignorance is their own.

I want to get into this habit as often as I can. I've realised I spend a lot of time doing things. Nothing important, just tumbling, or reading, or messing with my phone because I'm restless. I need to put aside time to just sort myself out, decide what I'm doing, and do it as best I can.

Note, there's a website called Zen Habits that is great for that sort of thing, for pointing out things like how rarely we breathe properly, how to stop procrastinating and do what has to be done. The link takes you to a masterpost, of sorts, that gives the popular posts, so you don't feel overwhelmed.

My "people skills" are "rusty".

Last night, I attended a party for Zed's cousin's 18th birthday. This is the first gathering of a group of kids my age large than, say, five people, where there is alcohol and no adults.

It was... interesting. I don't know what I expected, but there was a lot of emotions, a lot of mess - though that was mostly due to party poppers - and a lot of drinking.

The girl who's birthday we were celebrating had a bit of an emotional overload, as did her ex-boyfriend who still has a mass of feelings, one guy drank too much in the first hour and was miserable all evening, and another guy collapsed at the end of the night. But mostly, myself, I had an alright time. Didn't drink too much, didn't get involved in the drinking games, and made sure people were mostly alright.

I even made some friends, one of which we nicknamed The Secretary, because he's that in our union at school. He was like the responsible adult. And a guy from media that's into Doctor Who and I've been on the edge of a friendship with for a while. So it was nice to finally get there.

And seeing Zed play around with kids was nice, too. He really reminds me of Dean Winchester, sometimes, how it's always a little surprising that he gets on so well with them.

And remember the grandmother that seems to like me? She actually battered him out of the way to hug me. Good to know I'm still a hit.

Towards the end of the night, before the adults arrived to help clean up, I started sweeping up all the debris on the floor, around the guys that were re-enacting Queen songs. I thought I'd be angry that I had to sort things out, but it felt nice enough to be helpful.

I learnt, though, throughout the night, that we've hit an age where it's a given that people are comfortable with kissing each other in their age group. It seems common grounds that if someone starts spinning a bottle, of course people will kiss whoever the bottle declares their momentary partner. I, obviously, hung back, because no way in hell am I doing that when I'm in a relationship. Not to mention I didn't want to get caught in the guys that refused to do gay stuff in case they didn't think I counted, and so on.

My age group confuses the hell out of me. I can't see why you'd kiss someone you weren't attracted to, especially in a public environment when if it lasts more than three seconds people start cheering and goading. If you're attracted to someone, and want to kiss them, sure, but peer pressure doesn't seem the way to go around it.

But at least now, I've experienced a part like that, and I've got to know some of my classmates a little better. I even managed to threaten an ex-classmate because she had Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines on her ipod. She promised to delete it.

I guess the message of today is, people are damn weird, but at least a lot of people are really okay with kissing people of the same gender. Even the most hetero of boys ended up agreeing to kisses on the cheek.

If I acted less like me, would I be in the clear?

Last night, I ended up spending the evening downstairs with my parents, my brother, and his girlfriend. Ivan and Moony were both asleep, Moony having told me she had to for work and Ivan crashing straight after telling me he didn't need or want to sleep. Maybe one day he'll remember to give warning before he passes out over the keyboard.

I didn't intend to spend so long down there. Originally I was asking for help with research, then me and dad were laughing about Dredd. Dinner arrived from the local take-out, so we all ate downstairs. I should have known to run as soon as I could, but I was lured into false safety by the Dredd talk and Benedict Cumberbatch unexpectedly being in the Graham Norton show.

One of the underlaying reasons me and my family aren't best suited to each other is the pure fact that they don't understand my personality. It's a pretty fundamental part of who I am, so it's no wonder it gets to me so easily.

It isn't that the conversation is always aimed at teasing me, but it tends to happen whenever I give an opinion. My problem, it seems, is that I'm too serious about things, and if I would only stop letting things get to me, then I would be okay.

But that would imply that I choose to be sensitive, to be hurt by their comments that really aren't meant in a mean way. Oh, but according to them, it really is my choice, and if I choose not to be affected, I won't be. It's all a state of mind.

I disrespectfully call bullshit.

I can't remember the topic of last night that got it started, but it got to a point where I reached for my phone, as I often to do hold off from shouting or to ground myself. Every single time I do this in their company, I'm laughed at, joked that I'm telling on them to the Internet, and they started impersonating me, in a high voice, saying that I'm claiming I hate them and wish they'd get run over by a bus, of all things. And that I can't wait to move out and get away.

And if a double decker bus kills the both of us...

While I don't mean the one about the bus, it's a little worrying, that they're so close to the truth but they're joking.

I said, as they were laughing, that one day, I'm going to stop going downstairs to socialise, and they'll all ask why I'm not spending time with them, and I'll reply 'remember every time I did and you ended up laughing and teasing me?'

I hate to say it, but I think that was the breaking point. Every time I spend any time with them, I end up upset, and they never understand why. Always tell me to get over it, but it isn't a choice. Like Moony doesn't choose to have anxiety.

My brother even asked why I was so quiet, after they'd stopped laughing.

As if none of them had noticed how tight I held on to my cup, how I never actually shout, but I was shouting to try to get them to understand that just because I grew up in a house where everyone is teased, it doesn't mean that I'm used to it.

I know it's known that once you leave something, you realise how much you miss it, but I feel caged, I can't spend time downstairs in the living room because I'm made to feel like less of a person because I get offended easily, because I've never liked jokes that rely on picking on a weak aspect of someone.

I'm a prisoner in my own home, and isn't that fucking tragic.

It's just a comic.

So this man is Judge Dredd, the guy I've been spending a lot of time watching, reading and sometimes dreaming I am. He's a total git, and not a very nice guy, but as I said before, he does his job well and he's just trying to make Mega City One a better place.

But one thing that keeps making me laugh, and I'll probably never stop laughing about it, is his hatred of Batman.

He really hates the guy, because he's a vigilante and because Judge Anderson who is perfect stole him instead of him doing time because Dredd was being a sulky bitch and refusing to actually help him save Gotham. The first time they meet, they actually spend the first few pages fighting and insulting each other. I could have read an entire comic about it. There's a picture some way down of their meeting.

Today, I wandered downstairs for breakfast and tea, and there was another Dredd and Batman comic waiting for me, and I swear - and this is a show of how they feel toward each other - that the plot is Dredd cutting across universes to get revenge, because he's still bitter that Batman didn't serve his time. He really hates vigilantes.

I didn't open the comic, because it's in a plastic sleeve, and there's old yellowed tape holding it shut so dust doesn't get on it. The comic itself looks to be in pretty good condition, and the tape doesn't look like it's been touched in years. So yeah, it's probably there for me, but I can't be sure. My brother came downstairs and asked if it's mine, since it wasn't his. I'm guessing dad left it there, or some wonderful being heard I like Dredd and left me a gift, either way.

From 'Judgement on Gotham'. They really have issues.

When I explained why I haven't opened it, he said the tape isn't that well put on, so why not. He doesn't get that stuff like this, it's special to me. I want to protect comics. I have two or three original Thor comics that are in dire need of being put in some sleeves, and it worries me to think about them.

His words, and you may have guessed them from my title were 'it's just a comic'. Really offhand, like there was nothing interesting about the book on the couch.

But to me, it really isn't. Like everything I love, a comic is a way to escape for a little while. It's a way to find out more about a character I adore. Dredd's a right bastard, to be sure, and we're not supposed to really be on his side, because although I don't break laws, he's probably hate my outlook on life. Batman compares him to the Gestapo at some point, which is probably more accurate that I'd like to think about.

But it isn't just a comic. It never is. People have put a lot of time and effort into every comic that comes out, scripting it, plotting it, drawing and inking. The epics, the stories that cover months, they take careful planning. Calling it that, like it's nothing, is not only disrespectful to the way I had been laughing and voicing my thoughts minutes before-hand as I tend to do when overrun with emotions about something, excited as I looked at the cover and murmured 'Joe what the fuck do you think you're doing, this isn't how a Judge is meant to behave, you're such a git', but it's also disrespectful to the people that put the work into it.

I have a lot of feelings for comics, for the way they transport the reader for a litle while, and how safe and comfortable I feel when I'm in a comic store. It's quickly becoming a small hope of mine to work in one when I move. Brighton has to have a comic store. If it doesn't, I'll try for Orbital Comics in London, I don't mind.

So it's never just whatever it is that somebody is claiming not to be important. It exists because people put care and time into it, and that makes it something.

Suicide, and why it's a bad idea.

There isn't any real message to this post apart from the fact that it's about you. Yeah, you, the kid staring at this screen, maybe in a bad place, maybe alright at the moment. Either way, this is for you, if you ever need it.

Everybody matters. Every single person is important. A lot of people really close to me have been in bad places where it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Hell, I've almost ended up there sometimes, but they've all got through. And you can as well.

As a close friend of mine told me, and I'm sure he won't mind my quoting him, and repeatedly using his ideas here. 'You are made up of particles that once were, and one day again will be, stars. Some part of our universe combined in an incredibly precise manner at incredible odds, to create you, and to shape you into who you are.'

And it'd be a shame to throw that away.

There are a lot of things that are wrong with the world, and I'm sorry that some of it happens to you. I won't pretend it's going to get better, because it might not. The world doesn't turn on fairness, after all.

It comes down to if you can stand to continue, and if you can't.

Whatever's happened to make you feel how you do now, I can't take it away, make it better. But there's going to be something around that you wouldn't have had if you gave up. Be it a glass of orange juice that tastes perfect, or a sunrise on a shitty morning. It's not much, but it's something.

And everything that led up to this moment in your life, if you're reading this in that bad place or somewhere else entirely, it made you the fantastic person you are today. And if you think you're not that fantastic, I do. I really do. Because as The Doctor says, he's never met someone in all his 900+ years of travelling that isn't important. We all have our part in life, and you're doing yours awesomely.

So find something to distract yourself from whatever you want to do to yourself, if you can. Listen to a new band, read, draw and try to decide what the shapes mean, dance. Dress up, go make yourself a cup of tea. If you'd rather just curl up, cry it out, that's good too. It's a good stress-reliever.

I don't know if this helps anyone, but just know that I care, if you found this by accident, or if you have it saved away for when you need it, and you're more than welcome to send me a message if you're in a bad place. I'm easy to talk to, honestly, and we can trade life stories until you realise I'm really lame and can't stop laughing at my stupid jokes, and forget about your incredibly valid reasons for not wanting to play ball with the world any more.

Focus on the fact that despite everything, you're alive. You're here, reading this. And all those things you're feeling are legitimate. They aren't stupid, or ridiculous. If they matter to you, then they're very real, and you don't deserve to be judged because some people don't have the same problems as you. People that tease you, they're bastards, ignore them.


Most people are so preoccupied with living that they never stop to consider what it is to be alive. So pay attention to being alive, because I'm so fucking glad you are.