When I was 11 years old I told myself I was a girl. It was definitive by then. However I distinctly remember questioning it as early as 1st grade. At that time I was merely seven years old. I went through the indoctrination that I was supposed to be a boy. I lived by those phony gender roles pretending to be something I am not. I attempted suicide multiple times over the course of my life.

I had no support. I didn’t even have a word for how I felt. There was *a* word for us back then but it’s one I detest thus I chose not to utter it even to this day. Mark my words our attitude towards trans kids has not changed. I heard them being called freaks of nature, faggots and the worst was when my brother-in-law called a trans girl a “boy who cut *its* dick off,” that sentiment stuck with me. The disgust they have towards us has always been there. I remember directing that disgust inwardly towards myself. I have an adopted daughter who is closeted that I regularly hear her doing the same thing. Self loathing is detrimental to our survival. Yet we all have to face it at some point.

Recently the governor of Texas, or a slime ball walking around wearing his face rather, issued a declaration directing state agencies to report parents who pursue gender-affirming care for their trans kids to be reported for child abuse. They actually want to remove trans children from their homes and place them in foster care. This is by far the most egregious assault on trans rights in my lifetime. How the hell did we get here? Well for starters we let the LGB push us away to fend for ourselves. This is what happens when we stop standing together in unity. We lost our strength in numbers. We lost the gay and lesbian wolves that fought these battles before us for their right to exist. Losing their support opened the door for bigots to come after us. When they discovered they couldn’t take on the adults they shifted their focus to the children.

First it was sports. Separating trans kids from their teammates in a legal maneuver that would make Adolf Hitler proud. They tried, and failed, to ban trans kids from using their correct bathrooms. Now they see us in our weakened state and are going for the kill. Mark my words trans youth are going to die over this. I wanted to kill myself because I was disgusted knowing I was a “freak” and that was long before the leaders of my state were actively trying to cause me real harm. I can’t imagine what trans kids today are facing. Disgusting isn’t the right word. It’s beyond fascism we’ve entered into the real of terrorism. We are terrorizing trans kids while we demonize the few who actually have loving, supportive parents. This is not an assault it is flat out terrorism.

I am not saying the super gay’s are entirely to blame. I am saying by giving credence to their silly banner you fueled their hatred while legitimizing their cause. The blood of the trans kids who end their lives over this hopeless situation are as much on your hands as the repugnant ones who are pushing for these policies. Even more so because the trans community depended on you to stand with us, and instead you walked away. You allowed sexual preference come between us. You let rhetoric divide us when we should have stood together.

Nobody was saying a gay person had to be attracted to a trans man, all we wanted was to treat the transman with the same dignity you give a cisgendered man. But now because you sided with the terrorists who want to do us harm, the same ones who tried to push you to suicide in your youth, we are in this weakened vulnerable state where we now face extinction at the hands of our oppressors. Now I am not saying this is *all* your fault but you better well bear some of the blame. You could repair the harm by standing with us now, joining us in our most desperate hour, or you could turn a blind eye, bury your head in the sand and be thankful you won the victories you did while you watch us burn to death in the slaughter.

We need to stand together. I will stand with the trans kids as we are led off to the slaughter. I will stand up and fight for our youth. I will do what I can to protect trans kids by the goddess because I already fought for my right to live and now I have to fight for the next generation for their right to exist. We are all fighting the same war yet we allowed ourselves to be divided and look what it got us! The first trans kid who takes their own life their blood is on YOUR hands, anyone who used the hashtag super gay. Their blood is on you.

My earliest memory of the sport hockey was playing the Nintendo Entertainment System game cartridge “Blades of Steel” at my friend David’s house. I was in 5th grade. I lived in a trailer park outside of Salina, Kansas at the time. We used to play that game a lot. At the time I knew nothing of the sport but I can honestly say it was the only one I ever felt drawn to. I always wanted to play it. I had aspirations of playing based on so many other pop cultural references that helped me foster an ever increasing interest in the sport.

I never watched the game. I only had basic cable when we had cable and most of the time we just had what came over the air. This meant we rarely had opportunities to watch hockey games on TV. Also since none of the other sports-viewing television enthusiasts in our household cared for the sport I was left to a mere curiosity.

Despite that I continued to develop a passing interest in the sport that largely kept to myself.

My next big exposure to the sport came in the form of an early 90s childhood classic brought to us by the folks at Disney. It was The Mighty Ducks. I watched only the first two films. At the time my interest was more in the skating than the storyline surrounding the movie. I was also secretly into figure skating but thanks to conservative gender roles in my family as well as the Nancy Carrigan debacle I was discouraged from watching figure skating. AS such the Mighty Ducks would have to suffice, for now.

For the longest time I felt remorse that I lived in Kansas. Largely because we mostly attended rural schools that unsurprisingly did not feature hockey rinks therefore the sports was not an option, not even for the dreaded gym class. Still I kept holding out hope someday I could get a chance to experience the sport. I even turned to roller blades and tried to round up friends to get into street hockey but that never came to fruition.

Like many things in my life this passing interest slowly faded. My next dabble came in the form of yet another Hollywood film targeting the youth of America. This time it was Seth Green and friends. The movie was called “Airborne” it was more about roller blading than ice hockey but ice hockey was still a large part of the film. I watched this movie as a teenager which prompted my fellow white friends to form a skater punk “gang” we called uninspiringly “y2k.” Yeah we were the whitest kids you could meet. Still my interest in hockey never faded but merely moved to the back of my mind where I channeled it into some kick ass Sega CD games.

Then at the age of 14 I got my wish come true. I was attending a middle school in Hastings, Nebraska. Not the largest city in the Great Plains but one of them. It was a big enough school we actually played the P.E. variant of hockey in class. My day had arrived! I was so excited I couldn’t contain myself.

I never participated in P.E. mostly because as a deeply closeted trans girl I didn’t want to change in front of the boys. This was largely because I was wearing girls panties I hide under my “boy” clothes. But the chance to play hockey was too exciting I walked behind the lockers and changed where nobody could see me. For the first time in several years I was wearing boys gym shorts. Hockey stick in hand I was grinning from ear to ear. The day had arrived! I was too excited, too happy at long last I could experience a game I had only dreamed about, had only seen in the glamour of Hollywood feature films. Then reality hit.

The other kids picked up on my changing behind the lockers. I was called faggot and one of the bullies I regularly scuffled with pushed me aside as he lobbed that along with other accusations my direction. Here I was about to enter the gymnasium triumphant! I was about to get my first ever chance to play a game I had romanticized in my mind growing up. I had enough. I flushed my chances of playing that day down the toilet. I raised the hockey stick as high as I could, with all my might, all my anger and every tear I had ever cried I swung as hard as I could. I broke that kids face. The first swing blood splattered on the gym. Kids scattered. Now thoughts racing I just realized I was going to detention my shot at hockey was over. Suddenly I was even more furious. The second hit came from above. Stick held high above my head I brought it down on his arms, thrice in rapid succession. Each hit harder than the last. You robbed me of my chance to play a game I had been DYING to experience for YEARS. You ROBBED me of my joy!!!! I screamed as the gym teacher and school security officer pulled me off the kid who’s life surely flashed before his eyes. This was it the point of no return.

I wasn’t given detention. I wasn’t suspended. I was arrested. I was charged with aggravated assault. In exchange for dropping charges I agreed to go to court mandate anger management as well as therapy. That kid could have died that day simply because he stood in my way of having fun playing a game I never got another opportunity to enjoy. To this day I let my resentment of that situation prevent me from even exploring the idea of hockey ever again. I was dead set against it. Traumatized by the experience I swore the sport off for good.

So a couple of weeks ago when my girlfriend, who lives in Canada invited me to watch a game of hockey with her I had to go to bed early just so I could cry mixed years of joy, regret and deep sorrow. Not just because I never had a normal childhood. Not just because I had regret for my actions that day but because I missed my only opportunity to get into a sport I had wanted to love so much. My beautiful girlfriend has given me a second chance to experience hockey and now I do so with enthusiasm. That is how life goes sometimes. Every once in a while you get a second chance. I am savoring my second chance. I have planted my flag firmly in camp Toronto Maple Leafs. I decided to root for the same team she does. I made this

There is a practice in toy lines today that discourages me from buying certain action figures. It is a feature that drives me up the wall. It is called build a figure. I hate it.

The way it works is you have somewhere between six and eight figures sold separately each come with a limb or a part of a larger figure that you assemble once you have collected all of the different parts figures. I hate this. For one it forces you to buy an entire series of figures, including characters you aren’t interested in and would otherwise never buy, in order to obtain the chase figure. The logic behind build-a-figure is it allows toy makers to produce super sized extra large characters to scale with the rest of the line. This is usually done in a six inch line where individual figures cost bare minimum $20 retail each. That makes purchasing the assembled figure nearly impossible as some people only buy the figures they want, discarding the limbs leaving collectors to fend for themselves or having to turn to the later market to complete the larger figure.

The toy makers reason for doing this is it allows them to release extra large figures in the toy line. However it prevents collectors like myself from even starting a collection for a couple of reasons. If I am interested in the larger figure I don’t want to have to hunt down its individual arms, lets, chest, etc., from different toy stores. I don’t mind the assemble a larger figure from smaller ones, especially in toy lines where it makes sense such as with Power Rangers and their Zords or Transformers combiner figure sets. But you get the whole figure not a limb. The problem I have with build-a-figure is it often forces you to choose between buying an incomplete figure if you can’t complete the set or discarding the parts you don’t need from figures you desire. I don’t have the energy, time or patience to trade the limbs to other collectors hoping to finish their build so I refuse to buy figures that come in build-a-figure packaging on principal. I understand this keeps me from buying a lot of really cool 6 inch action figures but I don’t care I despise the practice.

I would be okay with it if you made two additional options available. Option one make the smaller figures available for sale sans build-a-figure parts for collectors like me who only want one or maybe three figures in the set so we don’t have to hassle with those extra pieces of plastic we don’t care for. Option two make the build-a-figure available in two additional skus, one is a larger assembled figure sold at retail for a higher price point. Considering Power Rangers, Godzilla and Transformers all have $50 “leader-class” toys I don’t see why Marvel/DC/Star Wars can’t do this also. Then you can also sell the individual components that come in the build-a-figure packaging separately too for the collector who wants to mix and match someone who buys a handful of the six inch figures but can then buy the remaining parts separately if they so choose. You can even put them in those blind packs and make then chase the limb they want. I prefer that method over either forcing me to buy all the figures in a product line or none at all. Given the choice between being greedy and getting nothing from me or being sensible and at least selling me the toys I do want to collect, I think this is a much better option.

However I hit the nail on the head. Toy companies are greedy. They even sometimes include build-a-figures that assemble another 6 inch toy in exact scale and size as the others meaning it could have easily just been a 7th figure in the line. Minecraft is now doing this with Build-A-Portal and it disgusts me because I will likely never have a complete Nether Portal which I would have gladly purchased full retail price but refuse to buy all the parts figures I need to assemble it. It’s a disgusting marketing scam and I despise it through and through.

One of my favorite things in life is the ability to have multiple interests, hobbies and yes even dreams. Whenever I talk to people about careers I always say I had a dream to do one thing or another. You see I was raised in a family that moved around a lot. Being bipolar I also got used to having excessive swings in energy and thus interests too. I dabbled in a little bit of everything.

This jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none mindset served me quite well as a journalist. One of my former editors said we have a knowledge base a mile wide and an inch deep. In other words we know a tiny bit about a lot but aren’t exactly experts in anything other than telling stories. Well I have had plenty of life long dreams. Fortunately I studied mass communications in college. The reason behind that was it being a pretty wide field. Everyone I know who goes into mass media, journalism and entertainment tends to be pretty flexible. Most run the gamut working in theater, Television, newspapers, magazines, radio, podcasts, YouTube, live entertainment and even weddings. When you work in a field as broad as mine you tend to follow several different career paths. This is because you really do learn a wide range of skills that are easily transferable to a number of jobs.

This has served me well in my temp days. Bouncing from one office temp job to the next. As a journalist I was an office manager, data entry, supply purchaser, inventory manager and customer service rep rolled into one professional gossiper. There are several career paths a journalist can follow. Some climb the ladder seeking upper management positions or larger markets. Others branch out into the corporate world putting their communication skills to use in marketing, advertising or public relations. A good number of journalists eventually strive to explore other writing ventures such as publishing novels or getting into book publishing somehow. Then there is the path my mentor followed. The path I am sorta loosely considering myself. That path is education.

Unlike those who wake up and say I want to be a teacher journalists get into education by circumstance. You see by it’s very nature a news reporter is an educator. We are educating the masses to the political, cultural, societal, entertainment, athletic, education, public relations, business, government, international, ethical, criminal, and yes gossip around town. We have to learn to research, study, process and as questions. We are full time students plus full time educators rolled up into one trade that requires us to be constantly learning new things our entire lives. As we grow older we begin to desire to impart the knowledge in a different light. Thus we turn to education later in our careers.

This is the path I am seeking now. It is not a direct path. I didn’t take courses in English in college paired up with early childhood development, psychology and then earned a teaching certificate. No rather what I did was pursued a degree that was 50 percent BA in English, 50 Percent BS in mass communications. Of course if you were to discuss qualifications I did take courses in psychology, philosophy, linguistics, rhetoric and yes even sociology. So where does this lead me now? How do I translate this into teaching, or more broadly education?

Like other journalists before me the schooling I complete coupled with my work experience naturally makes me a good fit for imparting knowledge. However there is a long road ahead.

First there is desire. When in college they prepare you for this by saying most journalists eventually end up in education or PR anyways. Many of us minor in political science or English with a teaching emphasis anyways. I nearly did this myself. Desire is not enough.

Second there is opportunity. A former journalist wishing to pivot into education often has a few opportunities to get them started down that new path. One substitute teaching. This typically doesn’t require specific degrees rather just a desire and willingness to work with children. However it can be difficult to land these jobs without much in the way of experience. That is where trial runs come in. I am talking about teaching-light as in tutoring.

Next, developing a plan. It does require a completed undergraduate degree with a teaching certificate in order to be truly qualified to teach properly. This is in the primary and secondary levels of course. If one wants to teach at post-secondary level they must earn a Masters Degree in something. That requires even more schooling than before. For me the path will eventually include going back to school to seek a BA in English. Not a BS in mass comm or journalism, a proper English degree with a proper teaching certificate. In order to get on that path I have been considering, long and hard for quite a while now, going into the world of tutoring.

Finally there is executing the plan. I started out taking temporary office jobs through staffing agencies. This was an interim to help me hone a few of my administrative skills I was lacking elsewhere. It was also to bide my time while I figured out what I really wanted to do. Tutoring is the first step to get me on that path. I finally found a firm willing to give me a temporary, seasonal opportunity to utilize an emergency COVID-19 measure in one of the relief laws that allows students to receive a certain about of emergency tutoring paid for by the government. These jobs are government contracts. Because it is an emergency authorization they are lowering the barrier of entry thus I was able to get picked for one of these jobs. I will be tutoring elementary students in reading to help them prepare to pass their STAAR test. It is a temporary job. I am not too excited for it on the surface other than it being my first step on a new career path I have long contemplated.

Ever since dropping out of high school the second time I have long dreamed of returning to school not as a student but as a teacher. I didn’t declare being a teacher as my proper life-long dream. As I stated above I have held numerous dreams. Again thankfully I have been blessed to pursue many of them throughout the years. I have been a professional DJ, photographer, writer, TV producer and news reporter, among others. I have lived my dream for the most part. However I never stopped thinking that someday, never knew when but knew someday I would settle into education somehow.

This is that time. I am making that pivot from mass educator (journalist) to one-on-one educator (tutor) so that I can eventually walk the path that will lead me in due time to classroom instructor (teacher). It will take me a few years to get there. Fortunately I am now at the age where with my combined work and life experience with my mental maturity I am ready to being taking those next steps. This is not going to be an easy path. It will require me to let go of some of my previous pursuits. Lucky for me I know teachers who are also published authors, YouTubers, Podcast hosts and Streamers so I know I won’t have to give up any of my other ventures to follow this path. What I do know is I am ecstatic to be on this path now. It took me a long time to get here. It took a lot of waking up in the middle of the night from a dream where I was in a classroom to realize that is where I belong. My entire life’s work has been preparing me for this next opportunity and it starts now with my accepting a part-time emergency tutoring position. I am ready. I am excited. I couldn’t be happier!

Sheriff Hobbs was sitting at a booth drinking coffee, reading his morning paper as he did every day. He was sitting in a quiet little coffee shop in the heart of the small town. It was just another day in Elklodge.

A man came in sat down at the Sheriff’s booth, grabbed a handful of fries and asked,

“How the hell are you today Sheriff?” Frank said.

Hobbs didn’t even take his eyes off the paper. He took a sip of his coffee and replied, “good morning Frank. It’s pretty quiet day today. I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.

“Oh sure, sure,” Frank said. “Say there sheriff, did you hear about that squirrel that was terrorizing miss Petunia yesterday afternoon?”

“I heard.” Hobbs said eyes locked on the newspaper.

Miss Petunia was the church organ player. Aside from being a community-wide motherly figure she was the only non-white woman in the whole town. Miss Petunia was from Tennessee and she was what they called down there African-American. Here they just called her Miss Petunia.

“Hey Josh can you turn that up a bit?” a man hollered from across the cafe.

The cook walked over to the television set sitting on the counter and turned the volume up.

“Remember folks a big snow storm is blowing into the area this weekend.” the weatherman said. “Be sure to get your survival kits ready because it’s going to be pretty cold. We’re talking at least six feet of snow. Tom, Britney back to you.”

Frank was an old retired cowboy, lived all his life as a rancher down south and moved up to the mountains a few years ago when his wife passed away and was getting settled into life in Elklodge.

Life wasn’t too exciting. Except for the squirrels. The vermin were over populated due to some environmentalist group who declared their habitat endangered.

“So Sheriff who ya got in the game today?” Josh asked.

There was no reply.

“I think the Jazz are gonna take them California fruitcakes myself,” JOsh  said as he wiped some grease onto his apron.

“I don’t know the Lakers got a new rookie that’s been tearing up the court.” said Frank.

The sheriff chuckled lightly to himself and went right about his business. He never engaged in discussion about the games with Frank or Josh because the two were notorious gamblers and since it was his sworn duty to uphold the law, he figured it best not to get mixed up on that.

The front door opened to let a customer in. Being a small town less than 400 people when a man stranger came into the cafe everyone took notice. All eyes went to the shaggy beastly man who strolled in covered in snow. He plopped down at the bar all eyes fixed in his direction. He slapped his hand on the countertop and uttered one word. “soup.” he said.

It was the same story, the reason this little backwoods town even existed; everyone here was either hiding or running from something. To that end it was pretty much understood not to ask too many questions. Yet old Frank was a chatter box who didn’t like it when people came to town and didn’t make conversation with him.

“Good morning stranger,” Frank said to the man as he sat down next to him. The man didn’t flinch, his gaze fixated at the countertop.

“Say there buddy you new to town?” Frank asked.

“Frank, leave ’em alone,” Hobbs called across the room.

Frank sat back down at the sheriff’s booth. He lowered his voice.

“What’s the story on that guy over there?” Frank asked.

The Sheriff didn’t even bother to turn his head and look for he knew who it was Frank was referring to.

“Mind your business Frank” Hobbs said.

The man quietly ate his soup with all eyes looked upon him. Then he slammed a handful of crumpled bills onto the countertop, turned and left the café.

Now that the man was gone and out of ear shot Frank turned back to his buddy and asked again.

“Really Sheriff what is the deal with that fellow?” Frank asked. “I know every stranger that wanders their way through town, that guy gives me the creeps.”

The sheriff folded his newspaper, placed it on the table, took one final sip of his coffee before he spoke.

“Listen Frank, you know much as I do some folks come up here to be left alone.”

The waitress cleared the table.

Come now sheriff you know I ain’t one to gossip. I’s just curious is all,” Frank said. “Who is he, what’s he do, I don’t give to rat shits what he did or does or where he comes from, just want to know something, anything.”

Hobbs took another long drink of his coffee and against his better judgment he decided to give in and appease his friend.

“All I know is that his sister-in-law was brutally killed and his brother is a famous football star. That’s all you’re going to get out of me okay Frank?” Hobbs said.

“Football player you said? Which one?” Frank asked.

He looked Frank deep in the eyes and squinted.

“There’s some secrets you don’t tell Frank. That man has as much a right to privacy as you and I got it?” Hobbs said.

A voice rang over the dinner. “Daryl Thompson,” the voice said.

“No shit!” Frank said. “Hell of a ball player!”

“The man was famous for being a running back during two championship runs,” the man said. “Then out of the blue he up and retired no warning. Hasn’t been heard from ever since.”

Frank stood up and walked towards the door to see if he could catch a glimpse of the man whom they were now openly discussing. It was no use; the guy was already long gone.

“So, what’s this you say about his sister being killed?” Frank asked. “Is that a story you got guts to share sheriff?”

The Sheriff asked for his check then walked out the front door.

I never got into M.A.S.K. By all means it should have been a series I loved right? Here was a toy line that took the best of G.I. Joe and combined it with the best of Transformers. I mean what’s not to love right? Well there’s one thing not to love, the drivers of the vehicles.

What I liked about Transformers wasn’t that they were cars with rocket launchers. What I loved about them were they were robots. Living, breathing robots that turned into cars with rocket launchers. The appeal of M.A.S.K. was they were vehicles the soldiers drove. They weren’t alive. They vehicles had no names, personalities or bios.

Okay but what about the G.I. Joe part, the solders that drove the M.A.S.K vehicles? See unlike other 80s kids I never cared for G.I. Joe all that much. I had a handful of the figures I obtained as gifts or picked up at a thrift store in a bucket of other toys. The only reason I even watched the cartoon was because it came on right after the Transformers cartoon and featured many of the same voice actors, so it was like an extra 30 minutes of Transformers, sorta.

I get why M.A.S.K would appeal to kids who were into both G.I. Joe *and* Transformers or even kids who were *just* into G.I. Joe alone. It had a certain cross over appeal that would lend itself quite well to that demographic. It just wasn’t me. I never watched the cartoon. I have no memories of the characters or their personalities. I never played with the toys except while at the one friend of mine who had M.A.S.K toys. I pretended they were Transformers stuck in vehicle mode.

Today whenever I hear other 80s kids get nostalgic for M.A.S.K. I feel nothing. I have nothing more than faded memories of barely playing with a couple toys a handful of times at one kids house. I have no memories of the cartoon. I don’t even know if there was a comic book or not. I have no nostalgia for it. No fond memories. No warm fuzzy feelings.

However, as a concept I fully see the potential of the line. As an action figure enthusiast and hard core toy collector I do in fact see the appeal to the toy line. Does that mean I am wanting for it to exist as a revived classic or modern line same as hard core fans and collectors? Fat chance. At best I would support a single character/vehicle from both factions appearing as a G.I. Joe and Cobra respectively. That’s the most I’d want to see from this line. I don’t want to be the one stopping a fan or collector out there getting what they want but as a part of the demographic that this line cross promotes to I can assure you myself and others who share my sentiment aren’t interested in a revived M.A.S.K. and that alone could be what is holding Hasbro back from giving it an honest go. If I had it my way they’d bring back all the toy lines *I* love and everyone would buy them. But that isn’t how it works. In a world where a finite number of toys can exist I am glad Hasbro isn’t wasting resources reviving a line I have absolutely no interest in. I am happy as can be the spend those resources keeping the brand I love so dearly alive. I am not so selfish as to say oh I don’t want M.A.S.K. fans to get their toys too, but not at the expense of me getting another Optimus Prime that does exactly what my 15 other Optimus Primes do. In that regard I guess I am selfish.

I fell in love with toys when I was a kid. I have been a toy collector basically my entire life. I have dabbled in professional wrestling off and on throughout this entire time. It was only natural I combined to two into a YouTube series. Unlike some shows that are toy collectors reviewing their toys I wanted to make a show about a toy enthusiast playing with her toys.

The purpose of the show is to share my love of toys, story-telling and wrestling with YouTube. I intend to make this an on going series.

Here is how it will work. Every month I will write a series of matches. I will produce the individual matches as short YouTube videos. I will upload the single matches as YouTube videos. Then I will record a series of promos and a Main Event title match. The ME and promos will be edited together with the individual matches in a Pay Per View style spectacular video. That video will be available exclusively to Patreon supporters. Then after some time has passed, to be determined later, the Main Event will be uploaded to YouTube as a separate public video for all to enjoy.

I will try to produce one series of videos a month. This way all the shorter, storyline videos will build up to the PPV. This will mimic a real pro wrestling show while providing an authentic experience. It will feature toys from the entire range of my collection.

This idea came to me slowly as I developed a series of one off videos of toy wrestling matches. I have been craving a toy related show similar to this for a long time. I could do stop motion as there are plenty of stop motion toy shows on YouTube. But this felt fresher, more authentic and simpler. In a word this felt more raw to put it bluntly. I wanted something that feels like natural toy play. This series will feature wrestlers from all different toy lines from my collection. It will include a Women’s division, men’s division, robot division and a Titan’s Division.

Titles will include Intergalactic Champion, Men’s Champion, Women’s Champion, Robot Champion, Men’s Tag Team, Women’s Tag Team, Robot Tag Team, and it will include one off matches. I do not currently have individual belts for all the wrestlers but I am working out a way to create them in due time. For now I plan on just having fun with it. This is the type of YouTube content I have been dying to see for a long time. Like so many other content creators I figured I would create the show I wanted to watch to fill a hole in the market.

I hope this show takes off. I love toys. I love wrestling and I love making videos. Combining all of them into a single product is going to be epic fun.

I want to remind my readers I use this blog for a number of reasons. One reason is to provide myself with clarity as I unpack all the many thoughts racing inside my mind. Sometimes I write about my personal experiences so others can get edification from it. Sometimes I share my religious experiences for the same purpose. Other times I write for myself. To understand or make sense out of the world.

Lately I have been writing more about my pagan beliefs. This is partially because it took me a long time to get here. I was raised in a conservative evangelical Christian home. My instinct is to share my faith with the world and convert as many new believers as I can come across. This was how I was trained, nay brainwashed into thinking. I was inducted into religious cult that preaches the absolute need to evangelize the whole world to save it from total depravity.

I no longer hold to those ideals as tightly as I once had. I must clarify though for those who are confused. When I identified the 12 deities I would seek guidance from I kept Yahweh and his son Joshua at the top of the list. I refused to use their Anglicized names is the biggest change. I also relegated Yahweh to one of the 12. I agreed to keep his holy days and seek wisdom from him on his days. Currently I was most recently confirmed into the Catholic faith. Thus I intend to keep the Catholic mandate of once a year attendance of mass which includes a yearly partaking in the Eucharist, predated by accepting the sacrament of reconciliation. This means I will go to a priest for confession of my sins. What I confess will be nobody’s business but mine and Yahweh’s. The priest is merely a facilitator of the sacrament, God using a man to do his work. I can accept that.

What I found in my religion is comfort knowing that I can follow other supernatural powers while seeking nurture from nature. I chose the path of pagan because of it’s closeness to nature, the supernatural elements and it fitting within my existing belief structure in a spirit world. I write this blog entry more for myself than others but to offer clarify for those who might be confused. You see I am pagan but I remain Christian as well, sort of.

I intend to attend the Easter Vigil as my Annual obligation to the Church. The Vigil is a remarkably beautiful experience to partake in. It is an ancient ritual shared across time and the world over. It brings birth of new Christians with it as well as the Sacrament of Baptism and First Communion. I was once a catechumen myself. I enjoy sharing in the spiritual journey they will take. No I don’t desire they be brainwashed into spreading hate towards the LGBTQ community. I prefer if the Pope would reform the church’s stance on those issues more definitively but as it stands I will take what I can get.

That being said I don’t concern myself much with the affairs of the Church. If the Pope ever declares trans women with homosexual desires are equal and free of sin capable of serving in the church without regard to sexuality or gender identity I may return to her comforting arms yet again. Being an outsider in the cold fumbling around for my place in the Universe is not a desirable position to be in considering I once knew where I belonged.

I can assure you I have made a deal with all my deities including Joshua that allows me to remain Christian while pursuing my Pagan faith as well. It is a strange place to be but know this, I have no ill will towards the Church as a whole nor it’s individual adherents rather the leadership and some of it’s more harmful teachings. I am mostly antagonistic towards the hateful, outspoken openly bigoted Evangelical branches of Christianity. I am specifically waging war, spiritually speaking, with the Baptist Church. My reasons are my own. But that is the most harmful of sects in the religion in my estimation. I have no clue what war with the baptists looks like at the moment.

I write this for my own clarity as well. Because I will attend Mass on Sundays as I find the desire to do so. I will fulfill my annual Obligation to partake in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. I will pray to Joshua as I see fit. These are things I will do in addition to my celebrating Imbolc to my Goddess Brigid. Things I do separate from my casting of spells, reading of tarot, divinations or even my communion with other spirits even those of a darker nature. I walk this spiritual path knowing full well what may come of my soul. I do it for me, no one else.

The world is a strange place. Among the gods of the old world are the Celtic deities. Brigid is one of the oldest of these deities. She is one of the most powerful. She calls to those who seek her. She will bless those who do service in her name.

She came to me and said she chose me. I believe she is quite powerful indeed. I have dedicated myself to her service. I write this now in her honor. I do so because my faith has always been a large part of who I am. Today I place my faith in her. May it be so.

I picked Brigid because she called to me. Like Joshua before whom called me in my youth, Brigid knew I was hers from the moment we locked souls. I have done many rituals in her name, some more prominent than others. Hers was the first idol I ever acquired. I do not believe I own her rather she owns me. I dedicated my life to her service because she is a wise, old and powerful Goddess. I believe she will grant me strength in all I do when done in her name. She has called upon me to dig deep inside to find my inner strength. Like many deities she seeks service. She asks of me and I obey. I also discovered she is also one who prefers we do things for ourselves. I turn to her only when it is appropriate. Of course coming from a place of humility via Christianity it is easy to fall back into the trap of relying on my Goddess for all things. This is not her will. It is not her way.

I write this after having offered many prayers to her. She asked me to write these words so I did. I don’t expect others to follow her ways. Nor do I expect anyone to believe in her save those who already do in their own way. I do not, as a pagan practicing witchcraft “work with” her. I serve her. I seek guidance from her. As a humble mortal seeking wisdom from an immortal supernatural being I worship her as superior to myself. She is my mother. The great Mother Goddess in fact. To me she watches over all of her followers. There are witches who use her power in their own ways. I do not begrudge them nor does she. I serve her in my own way. Only in that manner I believe to be pleasing to her. Beyond that all I can say is you too need to look inside to find your inner strength. We shouldn’t all rely on supernatural forces to guide us. Rather we should seek from their wisdom only when our Earthly wisdom fails us. I believe that is what is expected of us from our Gods. That we treat them with respect while knowing when to call upon them, and when to find our own path. That is all.