Sylvan and his shenanigans; a guild wars 2 blog.

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

The moment the semiautomatic rifle was put into his hands--was “Bring Me a Higher Love” playing in the gun store? “Get off my Cloud” by the Rolling Stones? Maybe it was Elton John’s “Rocket Man.”

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat 

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Portrait of a Young Woman, Jean-Etienne Liotard 

Been a while since we’ve done a giveaway so… Do you guys want to like… win some gems or something?

Stuff up for grabs:

Two 2000 Gem Codes (two winners)

200 Gold (one winner)

How to Enter:

One reblog and one heart on this post will each count as an entry. Only one reblog will count per account.

We’ll stop taking entries at server reset on Friday, February 25th. A random number generator will be used to choose winners.

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No giveaway blogs.

Hugs and Kisses,

FAKE TRANS DOCUMENTARY/ORGANIZATION: Here’s the ridiculous story about how extreme the far-right is willing to go to dehumanize trans people. I was nearly tricked into doing an elaborate anti-trans documentary by Matt Walsh’s film crew this month. It started with an email from the “Gender Unity Project” a couple weeks ago. They claimed they were doing a film on the trans community and gave me names of well-known trans individuals and surgeons they had interviewed. It all seemed normal at first. I even talked to the producer (Makenna Lynn Waters) on the phone beforehand. She sounded like a well-meaning cis film graduate who was just curious about the trans community.

When we chatted, she claimed the documentary was self-funded. I was suspicious because she had finished college recently, but figured she was just rich (who has that kind of money?). Later, she told me the individual they were interviewing in Chicago had suddenly canceled (this happens, but is still sus). Then she offered to fly me to Nashville: where Matt Walsh lives. They finally sent me a release form this morning, which strangely didn’t have the name of the company on it. So, I looked up the Gender Unity Project. It used a registered agent to shield the company owners. It’s dubious but sometimes registered agents simply make it easier to incorporate. Then I looked Makenna Lynn up. Her name didn’t show up anywhere.

After some heavy Google searching, I realized she used her middle name as her last in our emails. I found the IMDB page of her real name (Makenna Waters). It turns out she’s a producer for the Matt Walsh show! That’s not a red flag: that’s a gun to your face. If you’re not familiar, Matt Walsh is a white supremacist who makes a living denying the basic humanity of trans people. She wasn’t just a producer for his show: she worked on over 200 episodes of it! I finally found her Twitter, which features videos of Walsh berating protesters and Ben Shapiro doing his usual BS.

I decided to look closer into the “Gender Unity Project.” After searching its state registration number, I learned it was registered to Justin Folk, a white supremacist documentarian who works for Matt Walsh and Prager U. His initials (jrkfolk) were also listed in the release I thankfully refused to sign. So, if you’re contacted by these slimy assholes, don’t respond. The last thing we need right now is another “gotcha” anti-trans documentary! Stay alert and take any media personalities with a grain of salt.