Mon, 17 Aug 2026 02:40:08 -0700WeeblySat, 15 Aug 2026 06:45:18 GMThttp://www.cabincreature.com/logs/freedomI’m afraid to feel happy. I know that sounds stupid, but there has been enough in my past to make me wary about hoping for or receiving good things. I’m scared I’ll jinx it or curse it or tempt the universe to prove me foolish for being optimistic because it has happened so many goddamn times. But that ends this week, for I either succeed in starting this new chapter of my life or I die. Either way, on Saturday I’m moving out of my murder building, breathing or otherwise. While it was bittersweet a few months ago, now I’m reflecting more on the amount of bullshit I put up with just to live somewhere. And sure, there were good things, the amount of natural light I get in my suite is very pleasant, I’m close to everything, and I praise the national treasure who patrols these grounds and keeps us all safe. That’s about it, but boy do I love waking up to some natural light pouring in. 
What I won’t miss is much more numerous. I will no longer be at the mercy of our janky elevators and not have the option to choose the stairs because they only go down and the door locks behind. I won’t miss the random knocking from the weirdos on my floor or their uncomfortable invites into their apartments where I feared I would never emerge from again. No more will I have all white walls that I can’t hang much on since they’re the cursed popcorn material. No more will I have to pay four to eight dollars a week on laundry depending on whether I have to do two loads or dry my shit twice because the dryer doesn’t always want to participate in its one function. My rent won’t continue to go up each year since the place is already fully paid for. I’ll have air conditioning and die less violently in the hot months. I won’t have to worry about fire alarm tests, scheduled water shut downs, planned power outages. There won’t be anymore screaming fights across the hall or lunatics yelling at weird hours or dumbasses exploding their apartment trying to cook crack. Not being in such close proximity with other humans will be nice.
Over a year ago I was walking home from dance and I saw a message from a coworker that had come in whilst I was in class. He was asking if I knew why there were a butt ton of emergency vehicles outside my building since he saw photos on the What the Hell Just Happened Victoria facebook page. By the time I got back, there were no more flashing lights but there was the poorly cleaned up aftermath. I saw a huge bloodstain several paces from the front entrance which I stepped around to get inside. Following that were bloodstains of bare footprints and a smaller splash of wiped up blood at the entrance of the elevator that also happened to open up first when I summoned one. I dodged these marks like a cursed game of hopscotch and didn’t breathe normally until I was safe in my house. I found out later that a woman had been stabbed. She’d made it all the way from an apartment on the fourth floor, down the elevator, and outside before collapsing and or succumbing to her injuries. For three days I saw the ghosts of this woman’s last steps before the ground was finally spotless again. While it was certainly an isolated incident, having someone be murdered in my murder building while I was living there, hell a few hours before I came home was haunting. For five years there were no casualties until there was and I still think about her when I come home, when I use that particular elevator. It’ll be nice not to have to worry about people being stabbed to death in the building I live in.
It’s been six years since I’ve had a dishwasher. Eight years since I had a bedroom. I’m going to have my own front and back yard for the first time in nine years, with trees and grass and plants! I’m going to wake up to quiet and fresh air rather than screaming streeple and the stench of piss, crack, weed, and cigarette smoke all congealing together in wretched harmony. I’ll be able to ride my bike in a pleasant neighborhood. The only weirdos wandering the streets will be deer. I can just bask on a lawn or patio again after almost a decade of not having that option. I will be free! Free to be at peace, free from downtown and tall buildings and constant sounds. Free to enter and exit my house willingly without any constantly-shutting-down obstacles beforehand. Free of using a fob to get everywhere, free of keys for my bike and mail. Free from the maintenance guy continuously hitting on me after fixing my sink, blocking my front door, and having a master key to my house. Free from being harassed by another guy twice in the elevator. Free of landlords that don’t want to do what I’m paying them for and leaving me with an oven that didn’t work for a year and a fridge with a broken shelf, and shit plumbing that led my bathroom to flood three separate times. Free of relying on so many other people to be considerate, avoid arson, do their job after charging me exorbitant amounts of money each month. I’ll even be free of worrying so much about the potential Big One earthquake since having a one storey house collapse on me is way more comforting than an eighteen story stack of concrete and asbestos!
I’ve already moved five times in my life and besides the one that brought me to the island while my friends went to school and wasn’t going to be permanent anyway, none were moves I wanted to make. I’ve never not been at the mercy of landlords or families renting out their place and then moving back either. Settling has seldom felt realistic. But now, I get to do just that and I am giddy with the amount of sanity that will bring me. Ever since I was a small child, I wanted to live in a house and have that house be a haven, a stable place that would always be there for me after all my adventures. Now I finally have that and I’m not afraid to be happy about it.
]]>Tue, 21 Jul 2026 05:49:34 GMThttp://www.cabincreature.com/logs/boob-refund-two-electric-boobalooIn February 2022, I underwent my boob refund. Approximately three months later—definitely before my June Show—I figured out that my gender was all over the place and that I wanted to be log shaped to emphasize that fluidity. So I got on the waitlist for top surgery. Now, four years later, after being abandoned by my original surgeon, I have refunded the rest of my boobage. As of Thursday morning, my chest is flat beneath the swelling. 
    
Update from day two: uhhh my entire freaking body hurts as though I went through a vigorous workout. I’m still very grossed out by the tubes hanging from my body, collecting whatever the fuck nonsense is seeping from my wounds. My binder is too long for my torso, and hot, and itchy but four weeks from now I will be free of it. And after my dressings and tube/bags are removed, I can shower and properly cleanse myself. I am incredibly uncomfortable now, but I won’t be forever, and that’s what matters. I am embarking on my journey of becoming a log and no longer being constrained by undershirt boob supports, the climate is simply too hot for that now.

Week 4.5: all my bandages are off, I can fully shower in peace. My chest still hurts obviously and my range of motion is pathetic but in general, I am a happy camper! The surgery worked, you guys, I have no underboob sweat now because I have no boob for sweat to hide beneath! And whilst this was definitely not my main reason for fucking up my chest again, it is a benefit that made itself knows the soonest, so huzzah! This is a hilariously short post for how long it took to get out, but it be that way sometimes. For anyone clutching their pearls at me “losing” my “womanhood”, uhh stop that? I’m literally doing the exact same shit I did after my breast reduction and before that even, just minus a bra layer. Chill out. This is a blessed summer now that I can be a little bit cooler in temperature and that’s what really matters to me right now because I hate the summer and I hate the heat. And as my wounds stop gooing, I’ll be all the more thrilled for me shirts to lay flat. I am truly conquering life in very slow motion!
]]>Tue, 16 Jun 2026 07:32:55 GMThttp://www.cabincreature.com/logs/luck“Hard work pays off” means little more than jack-shit in my opinion. Maybe once, long ago there was truth in that but not now. In this ai poisoned, world war three threatened, late stage capitalism fouled, climate crisis tarnished timeline, there is no reason to delude ourselves into believing that burning ourselves out for the sake of a good future will yield anything but the burnout. 
Nearly every good thing that has happened in my pitiful adult life has to do with luck. I am not a lucky person at the best of times, in fact, I’m more akin to cursed. But the near future of peace and security I have waiting for me is the luckiest thing to have ever happened I think. It came to me not by excellent work ethic but pure luck. I lucked out in gaining a friend who is in a place to be incredibly generous. I lucked out in that friend having a close family that uses their resources to change a life like mine rather than hoard it all and leave unused. I lucked out in that friend’s luck. But I, me, myself, did absolutely nothing. All of my plans were scattered into the wind, some because my body called it quits before I was twenty, some because of that stupid fucking pandemic, others because the economy is a hellscape. That was all terribly unlucky. Out of my control. Regardless of how hard I tried in life. And to be honest with you, I thought that was it for me. With my body degrading, my bank account fading, the support of government systems non-existent, there wasn’t really anything I could do to wholly improve my life. I can’t afford to move out of my murder building because I’m poor, I can’t keep attending dance classes because I hurt, I can’t really travel because I’m still poor, I can’t write because I’m too exhausted, and I can’t save for any kind of future since the cost of breathing goes up every year and minimum wage doesn’t match that. That’s the bleak truth of it and if I hadn’t lucked out in the way that I did, this would continue to be my life. And while I try to take it day by day and enjoy the little things and comforts I can get, it’s depressing to have lost so much before anything really began. 
But it won’t be that way much longer and I cannot express just how astoundingly meaningful, beautiful, loving it is for my friend and her kin to provide me with a home. Not a garage, not a murder building, not a dwelling that isn’t owned, a haven. And this is the point I want to make with all my yapping—luck is the most valuable currency, it is the key that opens all locks. And not all of us have it while some have it in excess—but it can be shared. One of the most human things a person with a shit ton of luck can do is pass some of it along to others, like my friend did for me, like her parental units did for us. For the first time in almost a decade, I have hope for my future and with the luck I have come into, I will do what I can to support others when I wasn't able to before. Perhaps not in as drastic a way, but that isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that I will do what I can as my friend did what she could. I will try, for I believe that if everyone passed around what luck they could spare, eventually, we would all have some and for many of us, our lives would be changed for the greater, which, ultimately, is a net positive for the world. 
I will maintain a garden which will support the bees and the air. I will shop at local businesses because brick and mortar is more important than ever. I will write to entertain and to teach. I will dance and be a piece in the works of marvelous creatives. I will find peace and ease to better myself which will be better too for those around me. I will continue to hold onto my dream for my cabin so my friends will have a beautiful place to visit and, should I acquire one, my significant other a cozy place to live. Ideally, I will adopt some rescue beasties and give them the love they didn’t receive before. And I will do plenty else that I have yet to discover because I can now—soon. My hope is that after reading this, others will do the same.
]]>Tue, 05 May 2026 08:28:04 GMThttp://www.cabincreature.com/logs/video-games-could-be-good-sometimesAs I approach thirty, I’ve learned some things. Things like hard work doesn’t pay off where it should. If you work good then you just get given more work or maybe you don’t get anything despite giving it your all. Saving money won’t buy you a house, university no longer guarantees a career, being good at your job doesn’t mean a raise. It’s pretty disheartening, especially being in a generation that grew up being told hard work pays off. You know where that saying is true though regardless of the state of the world? Fortnite. 
I never played first person shooter games until this year. Hell, I didn’t play video games until Baldur’s Gate came out. The former has always intimidated me though. I figured my brain was too slow to play such things since my noggin likes to buffer. Fortnite always intrigued me but only recently did I delve in it. Lemme tell you I was very bad. In fact I’m still not great. That said, despite not playing every day or even close, my abysmal aim has improved, my fear of close combat has lessened, and my reflexes have sharpened. I can see myself improving after each round. Beyond that though, you get rewarded in-game. You get prizes, points, customizable little something-somethings that spruce up your life. Fortnite is such a silly game because it’s a battle royal, but with goofy pizzazz. You acquire characters that you like or think are funny, not ones that blend into the background well. You get emotes, dances, music that makes no difference to how you play beyond adding some amusement. I know there are die-hard players who take this shit seriously but I cannot take them seriously whatsoever because this game is just congealed nonsense. And it’s great. 
I like being able to get stuff with the points I earn by improving how I play. Maybe I’m simpleminded but after having little to no reward for what I do in real life, it’s nice to make that up through a video game. It’s not a continuous story either, just pretty quick rounds that you can quit whenever. It’s an easy way to give yourself that little victory boost. Listen man, I know that plenty of people think violent video games make violent people. I’m here to say “nah”. I hate guns, I hate conflict, all my murderous rage stays suppressed and dormant. I have a grand ol’ time getting better at killing folks in game but you have to be a very specific type of person to want to then do that in real life. Real life is permanent, video games aren’t, if you can’t differentiate that, you have other problems that need addressing. 
I’m not saying that everyone should get on their ass and dedicate their lives to strange games like Fortnite. Going outside and touching grass is necessary, having friends online and/or off is good, participating in a variety of hobbies is healthy. That said, with the world being so bleak, maybe we shouldn’t demonize a source of instant accomplishment. Like everything, just do it in moderation.
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