A MidWestern transgender woman trying to survive in the real life.

Starting to Stream on Twitch

A couple of weeks ago was Spring Break for the district that I am substitute teaching for. I was going to use that time to write, but I ended up streaming on the platform Twitch. I’ve been a viewer for a very long time, maybe seven or eight years. I always thought that I would never stream, but something sparked my interest to start doing it.

I got a new graphics card for my computer since my old one was not being recognized. (It turns out it was not the graphics card, but the motherboard. I had to get that replaced.) The new graphics card had four HDMI outputs. I was thinking of getting a second monitor, but I didn’t know what I would do with it. My thoughts went to streaming. Maybe I could have one monitor to play a game and the other monitor to have my streaming software displayed. I also thought it would be fun to stream some Lord of the Rings Online (LOTRO), since I play it almost everyday. I also thought it would be found to have my own emotes when I actually make affiliate with Twitch.

I tried to stream LOTRO, but I didn’t have enough memory to smoothly run the game and stream it at the same time. My computer only has 16G of RAM. I could stream and play the game, but periodically the game would freeze on me. At first I thought it was just normal server lag, but after looking into my memory usage I noticed that was the issue.

I didn’t decide to give up streaming. Rather, I switched games and started to stream Stream Raiders and Marbles on Stream. I wasn’t getting enough viewers for Marbles, so I stuck to just streaming Stream Raiders. I don’t get many viewers, if any at all. I’m still learning how to work with OBS and the Twitch channel in general. It has been fun and exciting so far. I just need to save up money to upgrade my memory so that I can stream the games that I really want to.

ChatGPT: The Last Conclave of the Damned

I asked ChatGPT to write a story if Hitler fled to South America instead of committing suicide. This is what it came up with. 

Chapter 1: The Fugitive

In the depths of the Amazon rainforest, where the dense canopy muffled even the whispers of the wind, Adolf Hitler, the once-feared dictator of Germany, now cowered in solitude. His once-proud mustache now drooped with defeat, and the fire that had once burned in his eyes was now but a smoldering ember. Beside him stood Eva Braun, his loyal companion through thick and thin, her once-vibrant spirit now dulled by the weight of their shared exile.

“Mein Führer,” Eva whispered, her voice barely audible above the chirping of crickets. “How long must we hide like this? How long until we can return to the world and reclaim what is rightfully ours?”

Hitler turned to her, his gaze hollow and haunted. “We must bide our time, Eva. The world may have forgotten us, but we will not be forgotten. We will rise again, like a phoenix from the ashes, and reclaim our rightful place as rulers of the world.”

But even as he spoke the words, Hitler knew that the world had moved on without him. His dreams of conquest and domination lay shattered at his feet, and he was left with nothing but his delusions of grandeur and the bitter taste of defeat.

Chapter 2: The Delusions of the Damned

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but still Hitler refused to accept the reality of his situation. He spent his days poring over maps and schematics, plotting his triumphant return to power, while Eva watched helplessly from the sidelines, her heart heavy with despair.

One night, as they sat by the flickering light of a campfire, Hitler turned to Eva with a gleam in his eye. “Eva, my dear,” he said, his voice tinged with madness. “Do you know what I have realized? The true secret to our power lies not in armies or weapons, but in the purity of our bloodline. We are the chosen ones, Eva, destined to rule over the lesser races and usher in a new era of prosperity and greatness.”

Eva recoiled in horror at his words, but Hitler pressed on, his voice rising in fervor. “We must seek out others like us, Eva. Others who share our vision of a pure and undefiled world. Together, we will build an army to rival the gods themselves, and nothing will stand in our way.”

But Eva knew that Hitler’s dreams were nothing but the ravings of a madman, and she feared what would become of them if they continued down this dark path.

Chapter 3: The Conclave of the Damned

As the years passed and Hitler’s grip on reality grew ever more tenuous, rumors began to spread throughout the rainforest of a shadowy figure who dwelled deep within its depths. Some whispered that he was a sorcerer, capable of bending the very fabric of reality to his will, while others claimed that he was a god, worshipped by the indigenous tribes as a bringer of death and destruction.

Intrigued by these tales, Hitler set out to find this mysterious figure, convinced that he held the key to unlocking his true potential. And so, accompanied by Eva and a small band of loyal followers, he journeyed deep into the heart of the rainforest, his mind ablaze with visions of power and glory.

Finally, after days of arduous travel, they arrived at their destination: a vast, crumbling temple hidden amidst the tangled undergrowth. As they stepped inside, they were greeted by the sight of a figure cloaked in shadows, his features obscured by darkness.

“Welcome, Adolf Hitler,” the figure intoned, his voice echoing through the chamber like the tolling of a funeral bell. “I have been expecting you.”

Hitler stepped forward, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling with anticipation.

The figure stepped forward into the light, revealing himself to be an ancient shaman, his skin weathered and wrinkled like the bark of an old tree. “I am the guardian of this temple,” he said, his voice heavy with age. “And I have seen the darkness that lurks within your soul, Adolf Hitler. It is a darkness that threatens to consume you, body and soul.”

Hitler scoffed at his words, his arrogance undiminished by the shaman’s warnings. “What do you know of darkness, old man?” he spat. “I have seen the depths of human depravity, and I have embraced it with open arms. I am the master of my own destiny, and nothing you say can change that.”

But the shaman merely shook his head, his expression grave. “You are mistaken, Adolf Hitler. The darkness that you embrace is not your own, but that of a far greater power. It is a power that seeks only to destroy, to consume everything in its path until there is nothing left but ash and dust.”

Hitler laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound that echoed through the chamber like the wail of a lost soul. “And what would you have me do, old man? Renounce my ambitions and cower in fear like a frightened child? No, I will not be swayed by your feeble warnings. I will forge my own destiny, no matter the cost.”

With that, Hitler turned and strode from the chamber, his followers trailing behind him like obedient dogs. But as they disappeared into the darkness of the jungle, the shaman could only watch in sorrow, knowing that he had failed to save them from the darkness that lay ahead.

Chapter 4: The Fall of the Damned

As the years passed, Hitler’s grip on reality grew ever more tenuous, his mind consumed by delusions of grandeur and visions of power. He became increasingly isolated from the world around him, his only companions the ghosts of his past and the whispers of his own madness.

But even as his empire crumbled around him, Hitler refused to accept defeat. He clung to his beliefs with a desperate fervor, convinced that he alone held the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe and ushering in a new era of greatness.

But in the end, it was not the world that brought about Hitler’s downfall, but the darkness that lurked within his own soul. Consumed by his own madness, he descended into a downward spiral of despair and self-destruction, until there was nothing left but a broken shell of the man he had once been.

And so, in the depths of the Amazon rainforest, Adolf Hitler met his end, alone and forgotten by the world he had sought to conquer. But even in death, his legacy lived on, a grim reminder of the dangers of unchecked ambition and the folly of those who seek to play god.

For as long as there are men like Adolf Hitler, there will always be darkness in the world. And it is up to each of us to stand against it, lest we too be consumed by its unforgiving embrace.

Chapter 5: The Discovery

Years passed, and the memory of Adolf Hitler faded into obscurity, buried beneath the sands of time. But for one intrepid anthropologist from England, the legend of the lost dictator remained an irresistible mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Dr. Edward Hastings had spent decades scouring the jungles of South America in search of ancient civilizations and forgotten ruins, but it was not until he stumbled upon a series of cryptic writings hidden deep within the heart of the Amazon that he realized he had stumbled upon something truly extraordinary.

Drawn by an inexplicable sense of curiosity, Dr. Hastings followed the trail of clues left behind by the mysterious author, each one leading him deeper into the heart of the rainforest. And then, one fateful day, he stumbled upon it: the hidden sanctuary of Adolf Hitler.

As he stepped inside the crumbling ruins of the temple, Dr. Hastings could hardly believe his eyes. Everywhere he looked, he saw signs of a once-great civilization brought to ruin by the passage of time. And at the center of it all lay the body of Adolf Hitler, preserved for eternity in a state of eternal repose.

Chapter 6: The Revelations

But it was not just Hitler’s body that Dr. Hastings discovered that day. Hidden amidst the ruins were a series of writings, penned by the dictator himself in the final days of his life. As Dr. Hastings pored over the pages, he found himself drawn into the mind of a madman, consumed by his own delusions of grandeur and visions of power.

But amidst the madness, there were moments of clarity, glimpses of the man behind the monster. And it was here, in these fleeting moments of lucidity, that Dr. Hastings found the true heart of Hitler’s darkness.

But perhaps the most shocking revelation of all came not from Hitler’s writings, but from the lips of Eva Braun herself. For as Dr. Hastings sat by her bedside, listening to her tale of woe, he realized that there was far more to this story than met the eye.

Chapter 7: The Legacy

As Eva Braun’s life ebbed away, she confessed to Dr. Hastings the truth of what had become of Adolf Hitler in the final days of his life. She spoke of his descent into madness, his desperate attempts to cling to power even as the world crumbled around him.

But she also spoke of his humanity, of the man she had once loved and the dreams they had shared together. And as she passed into the great beyond, Dr. Hastings realized that Hitler’s legacy was far more complex than he had ever imagined.

For even in death, Hitler’s shadow loomed large over the world, a grim reminder of the dangers of unchecked ambition and the folly of those who seek to play god. But amidst the darkness, there were moments of light, glimpses of hope that shone through the cracks in the facade.

And it was here, in the heart of the Amazon rainforest, that Dr. Edward Hastings came to understand the true meaning of Adolf Hitler’s legacy. For while the man himself may have been lost to the annals of history, his story would live on forever as a cautionary tale of the perils of power and the price of ambition.

First Term at National-Louis University

I just completed my final course for the summer quarter at National Louis University (NLU). I took two classes this quarter and got an “A” in both classes. I’m working on getting my Master at Teaching in Secondary Schools with a concentration in social sciences. I mentioned I was going to start this with a post that I made on May 19, 2023. I never did a post when I started. I’m really terrible at trying to keep up on this blog.

The coursework so far is easier then the graduate study I did at Northern Illinois University (NIU). The textbooks that NLU is assigning us to read is more geared towards an undergraduate student than a graduate student, in my opinion. When I was getting my Master of Arts in Anthropology at NIU we use to read articles from scholarly journals. The textbooks for NLU are not research or anything that in depth. It just glosses over the subject and is written in more layman’s terms.

This was also my first time doing online courses. It seemed odd not to sit in on a lecture in a classroom environment. We didn’t even have video conference calls at all. It was all done a web-based application where you would upload assignments and post in an open forum. It was hard for me to get use to. I still don’t know how I feel about it.

The fall quarter doesn’t start for me until late September, so I have some time to do other things. I’m substitute teaching secondary schools within my district. I think I might be able to substitute teach and take courses at the same time. From what I understand from other people that just recently graduated from the program, it is doable.

ChatGPT: Transgender Politican

I’ve been playing around with ChatGPT. I told it to write a detailed short story about a transgender woman who becomes a very powerful political figure in the near future but is assassinated by a right wing idealist lone gun man. This is what it came up with.

In the near future, amidst a society still grappling with acceptance and understanding, there lived a courageous transgender woman named Amelia Morgan. Her journey was one of resilience, determination, and an unwavering belief in the power of change. Amelia’s transformation was not just personal; it was also a testament to the evolving world around her.

As a young child, Amelia had always felt a disconnect between her true self and the expectations society placed upon her. The pain and confusion she experienced only grew as she entered adulthood. Yet, in the face of adversity, Amelia found her voice and discovered an inner strength she never knew she possessed.

With time, Amelia realized that her struggles were not hers alone. She recognized the plight of countless others facing similar battles. Inspired by the possibility of making a difference, she decided to step into the political arena and fight for a world that valued equality, inclusivity, and acceptance.

Amelia’s journey was not easy, as she faced opposition and prejudice at every turn. However, her charisma, intelligence, and unwavering dedication won over hearts and minds. Her authenticity resonated with people from all walks of life, transcending gender and social barriers.

As Amelia rose through the ranks of politics, her influence grew exponentially. She spearheaded groundbreaking legislation that protected the rights of transgender individuals, championed education programs promoting acceptance, and fought tirelessly for equal opportunities in every sector. Amelia’s vision of a fair and compassionate society began to take shape, giving hope to those who had felt marginalized for far too long.

However, her rise to power also caught the attention of those who opposed her progressive ideals. A right-wing idealist, consumed by fear and intolerance, hatched a sinister plan to silence Amelia’s voice forever. This lone gunman believed that by eliminating her, he could quell the growing tide of change and revert society to its previous state of ignorance.

Tragically, on a fateful day when Amelia was addressing a rally of supporters, the lone gunman struck. Chaos ensued as bullets pierced the air, ripping through the fabric of hope that Amelia had so painstakingly woven. The assassination attempt cut short the life of a woman who had become an icon of progress, leaving a void in the hearts of millions.

Amelia’s death sparked a tidal wave of grief and outrage across the nation. People from all walks of life, united by her message of equality, rallied together, determined to carry on her legacy. The tragedy served as a stark reminder that progress often comes at a price, but it also ignited an even stronger resolve to fight for a better future.

Amelia Morgan’s legacy lives on, not only as a transgender pioneer and a powerful political figure but as a symbol of hope and resilience. Her untimely death strengthened the movement for equality, inspiring a new generation of activists to continue her work. And in the hearts of those she touched, Amelia’s spirit remained, a guiding light illuminating the path toward a more inclusive and compassionate world.

It doesn’t have any real substance to it. It is bland and reads like an old textbook. Yet, it still is impressive for an AI to come up with this.

Going Into Teaching Secondary School

I usually never discuss anything about my employer publicly over the internet. Yet, I thought I would share that I’m going to have a career change.

I have mentioned in a post about my agoraphobia and how it caused me to lose my job at the United States Department of Agriculture. It is a long story on how I was eventually let go by my employer, so I won’t get into it. Ultimately, I managed to get on disability retirement. It is enough to pay the bills and live comfortably. I am very grateful for it.

Back in about September of 2022, I decided that I would start working as a substitute teacher for the local school district. I would be able to pick and choose the days that I wanted to work, and I could ease into it. I got all of the required paperwork completed and started early December 2022.

I eventually thought that I would try to obtain a license to become a secondary education teacher. I looked around at a number of universities and eventually decided to attend National Louis University (NLU) to obtain a Master at Teaching (MAT) degree along with my teaching license. It was just two more courses to take to get my MAT, so I thought I would work towards that to spruce up my resume.

I was required by NLU to take two under graduate courses prior to admission.  I enrolled at Elgin Community College to take courses in economics and human geography. I completed these requirements on Tuesday.

I was also required to take a content area test in either history or geography. I elected to take the geography exam. I took in in late March and passed it.

If everything works out as planned, I will start at NLU on July 3, 2022.  I’ll start to student teach in January 2025 and obtain my degree in about May 2025.

Lavaliere of Carnim: Chapter 2: The Power of Flowers

Pinkfae’s reunion with her friend Tuilinn.

“Pinkfae, is that really you?” a female Elf stopped suddenly in her tracks in amazement.

Without saying a word, Pink hugged her friend. “Yes,” she answered as they released from their embrace. “I didn’t get on the boat to sail to Aman.”

“You’re not the only one,” Tuilinn stated. “There are many others who didn’t make the journey as well. I was just on my way to Cerin Amroth to pick the flowers that grow there. I thought I would make a bouquet and bring them to our kin defending the boarders. Would you like to help?”

“Certainly,” Pinkfae said as the two continued down the path towards a great mound covered with flowers. There was a lone, ancient tree on top of the hill. It was so beautiful that it almost seemed artificial. “Lady Galadriel wanted me to help those fighting back the Orc invasion. Bringing them objects of beauty will certainly help in restoring their mental state.”

“It will also remind them what it is that they are fighting for,” Tuilinn added.

The two of them reached the hill and could smell the sweet scent of the pale colored flowers. Cerin Amroth was a popular place for the Galadhrim to meditate and relax. There were a few Elves relaxing on the side of the hill and undoubtedly there were also some up in the flet enjoying the breeze that brings the scent up there as well.

Tuilinn began to pick some of the Elanor while Pinkfae picked some of the Niphredil. After they each had a dozen of each type of flower they arranged them into a bouquet. All of Pinkfae’s life she longed to leave Lothlórien and explore the world outside. Over the course of the past few months she has seen and experienced more then she has during the past two thousand years. Yet, it wasn’t until now that she realized just how much she missed her homeland.

After the flowers were arranged the two headed off to Imlad Lalaith. There Maliriel, the feast-mistress, was holding a great banquet for the many guests that were entering Lothlórien, something that hasn’t happened in many centuries.

“Tuilinn,” Maliriel exclaimed as she saw the two of them. “Did you come to join us?”

Tuilinn shook her head, “no, we came bring flowers to help brighten the banquet.”

“Oh!” Maliriel said as she took the flowers. “Thank you. These only grow in our lands, I’m sure our guests will be pleased to see them.” She went over to the banquet table and placed them in a vase.

She stepped back and looked at the flowers sitting among the food and wine already sitting on the table. “A festival in Lothlórien without flowers is like a festival in Rohan without horses.” She turned to face Pinkfae, acknowledging her there for the first time, “in fact Pink’s heraldic device is a pink lily. Even though there are none that grow here in Lothlórien. You know, I have always wondered why your House used a lily on its heraldic device. Many of the Houses use flowers that are native to our land. It is very unusual.”

There was a brief pause as Maliriel waited for an explanation. Pinkfae finally gave in and admitted with a shrug that she didn’t know.

“You mean in all of your studies in lore, you never looked into the lore of your House?” Maliriel asked with a hint of shock in her voice. Ancestral lore was very important to many Elves; even those who were not lore-masters knew the histories of their own House.

“Pink was always more interested in the world outside of Lothlórien,” Tuilinn interjected.

“Its true,” Pinkfae acknowledged with some sadness in her voice. “They always say that you don’t know what you have until you lose it. I’ve seen many lands since I left, but nothing is fairer then Lothlórien.”

A field of Niphredil growing at Cerin Amroth in Lothlórien.

Pinkfae and Tuilinn got off their horses at the Elven camp Echad Andestel west of the river. There they met with Ambendel. “What brings you out here so, Tuilinn?” the Elven woman asked.

“We bring gifts to brighten the hearts of the Galadhrim defending our boarders,” she answered, show her the bouquet of wild flowers.

Ambendel smiled brightly as she accepted the gift. “Thank you, Tuilinn. I’m sure your gift will brighten the hearts of Elves, Dwarves, Men and Hobbits alike.”

“Men and Hobbits?” Tuilinn asked quizzically.

Ambendel nodded her head. “There have been many Free Peoples coming out of the gates of Moria as of late and not just Elves and Dwarves. It seems that the Iron Garrison have been able to secure Moria from the Servants of the Enemy.”

“There is still much work to be done,” answered Pinkfae. “Although the Dwarves have been able to secure the Twenty-first Hall, the Orcs have not all been driven out.”

“The Orcs that have been retreating out of Moria have established a number of camps west of here,” Ambendel stated. “The Dwarves’ progress has sent them closer to our doorstep. Thankfully the Free Peoples of Middle-earth have been able to contain them as well. Yet, the greater threat lies to the north-east of here. You should bring some of your flowers to Bahanneth, the quartermaster at Talan Fanuidhol. His people are guarding the largest camp of Orcs near Lothlórien.”

“Be well,” Tuilinn said getting into the saddle of her horse. “May victory be swift.”

“Stay safe, both of you,” Ambendel called out as the two rode off to Talan Fanuidhol.

Lavaliere of Carnim: Chapter 1: The Mirror of Galadriel

Pinkfae gazing into the Mirror of Galadriel

Haldir opened the gate and ushered Pinkfae inside the Garden of Galadriel. Although Pinkfae has spent her entire life in Lothlórien, it was the first time she has ever been allowed inside of the Lady’s garden. She knew about Galadriel’s Mirror, it was common knowledge among all of the Galadhrim, but she was not among the few permitted to peer into it. She can remember times spent up in the trees looking down into the garden and dreaming, wondering, what the mirror might show her.

Pinkfae looked over her shoulder as she slowly made her way inside the garden. She seemed doubtful that she was actually given permission to be inside of the sacred place. Haldir nodded his head slightly and gave a soft smile reassuring her that she could enter. Pinkfae looked back towards the garden and noticed the Lady standing near the Mirror. With her uncertainty gone and replaced with a sense of hope, she quickened her pace.

“Pinkfae Neilikka,” Lady Galadriel said as she approached. “I thought you and your family were making the journey to the west.” Pinkfae began to grow nervous. She couldn’t look directly into the eyes of the Lady. Instead her eyes wandered around the garden, the flowers, the walkway and the Mirror. “I’m sorry,” Pinkfae replied with a faint whisper.

“There is no need to apologize,” Lady Galadriel said with reassurance in her voice. “I knew that this path would lie before you long before Celeborn issued the evacuation. There have been many other refugees that did not set sail. Their hearts are still here in Middle-earth and no words can be uttered to sway them from it.”

“But, my Lady, what is it you and the Lord are trying to protect us from? Lothlórien has not changed at all.”

“No, it hasn’t, not yet. Already Orcs and Goblins have been infesting the surrounding forests.” She paused briefly, studying Pinkfae’s eyes. “Do you think that Haldir escorted you here so that you could find my garden? It was to protect you from being ambushed by the Servants of the Eye.”

“With all due respect, my Lady,” Pinkfae responded. “I can handle myself. I’m not a simple farmer’s daughter any longer.”

Lady Galadriel smiled at her and place her hand upon her shoulder. This caused a shiver to run up and down Pinkfae’s spine. Not out of fear, but out of love. She felt like a young girl being touched for the first time by the boy that she had a crush on.

“I have been watching you for a long time,” the Lady said. “And I have no doubts that you can defend yourself. All of the lore that you have learned over the past few centuries you have been putting to good use. It gladdens me that you along with many other Galadhrim have discovered the strength to overcome the minions of Morgoth.”

Galadriel lifted a white vase and slowly began to pour some water into the Mirror. The Mirror looked like a simple basin sitting on a pedestal slightly lower then waist high. With the surrounding garden the Mirror could be confused for a simple bird bath if someone didn’t know the powers of the Mirror.

“How long have you wanted to look into my Mirror?”

Lavaliere of Carnim

“Forever,” she was not sure why she replied, she knew the question was rhetorical. The Lady already knew the answer; she was practically omniscient.

“You have earned the right to gaze into it,” Galadriel said as the water settle down.

Pinkfae walked up towards the Mirror and peered inside. At first all she saw was her own reflection, but within a few seconds a shape began to appear. It was a Balrog and he was face to face with Mithrandir on a narrow stone bridge. Suddenly, the bridge collapsed and the two fell into the great chasm. The image shifted to the two fighting on The Endless Stair. Then it shifted again to the corpse of the Balrog laying on a snow covered mountain top. Near him was Mithrandir also laying in the snow, but his hand was slowing reaching out for Narya, the Ring of Fire. Then the image shifted to the hand of another, a dying Elf in a blackened waste land. His hand was reaching out for a lavaliere, a small pink emerald cut into the shape of a flower. Yet, the Elf was not able to grasp it before his spirit left his body. The image then faded away and the remaining water in the basin evaporated.

“I saw Mithrandir,” Pinkfae exclaimed. “He has slain Durin’s Bane. The Dwarves are free and safe in Hadhodrond at last! Yet, I saw something else, an Elf slain on a battlefield reaching for a necklace. It was a pink lily and looked exactly like the House of Carnim’s heraldic device. Do you know who that was?”

“It was your great-grandfather, Aegebed. He was slain during The Last Alliance of Elves and Men.”

“And the lavaliere? What was that?”

“It is the Lavaliere of Carnim.” Galadriel answered. “I know you have many other questions. The answers will come when you are ready to hear them.” Pinkfae was about to object, but she stopped herself. “I have ordered the guards to not let you inside of Caras Galahon until you have helped us prepare for our defense against the Orcs. I know you have done no wrong in turning back from your journey, but you will have to prove yourself with the other Galadhrim.”

Without any objection from Pinkfae, she was escorted outside of Lothlórien by Haldir.

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