Meeting people

The question to ask is what is the point in meeting people. I ask this
while pondering over thoughts of a very cute strait girl. Knowing what
I know, and knowing my issues, I just can't help but feel slightly
pointless in the aspect. Granted you never know how people will react,
but does that warrant the cruelty inert in trying to pursue something
between her and myself?

So what is the point, granted we could
become friends, and much like many of my gal friends now I initially
had a romantic interest, it doesn't alter the inherent question. The
question being what is the point of it all. To my it just seems
pointless and moot, at least now, since I know most women aren't going
to want to deal with my issues. Hell I don't even want to deal with
them half the time.

It hurts being romantic.

That statement alone sums up more than you can imagine.

Melanie told me she longed for more out of her life today, I know the feeling, it is a feeling of a void in your life (at least mine seems to be) that is filled briefly for periods of time with the concept of a single beautiful night with someone.

Mine involves slow dancing and soft mellow light, which seems more and more distant with every passing moment.

I know, I know

I should update more often, if you gander off to the right you can see how my post count has trickled down as the months go on. Well, when I'm not staying up until 4:30 in the morning doing statistics homework, i'm busy trying to survive.

That said, things that make me happy: Shoes. Cliche yes, but hey, it helps. I snagged some great androgynous high tops that I love wearing now, and a killer pair of heels (buy one get one 1/2 off...I had to).  A few days later I was drunk and online (not a good combination for the bank account) and bought the cutest skirt. I'm ..skeptical about fitting into a small, but I have no hips (yet) so hopefully it will fit. I'll see about posting some interesting artifacts once it comes in.

Obligatory things that suck: Testosterone, I've come to think of this substance as a plague upon the minds of humanity. My own in particular. I will be particularly glad when I'm no longer subject to its effects, but as I am, it leads to a typical libido. One which leads me to typical places. Those places take my mind into places it doesn't enjoy being.

I try to stay out/away from those places, but the keyword is try. Anyways, I'm always looking out for my best interest (who isn't) which is why I don't keep guns or knives around me.

But I'm here, and hopefully ever step is one closer to getting this rotten substance out of my body. That said...I still need to work on my voice..which...is coming along quite...slowly....and by slowly, I mean not at all.

To Hell with Creative Expression.

It has been awhile since I've written, and I'm not in the most stable of moods (am I ever?). I just can't seem to muster up the motivation to do anything anymore. I make appointments, and I go to them, I schedule classes, and I go to them. I do the work, I repeat.

I've recently come to discuss the status of two questions, or rather, debate the meaning and implication behind one question, which is really the only true philosophical question worth asking. As others put it "well I'm alive, so now what do I do with my life". My version is "well being alive is optional, so now what do I do with my life". So, I've gone about a search looking for reasons, and well, the question has no true answer that anyone can give me. While I imagine most people are content to let their lives continue on like a piece of meat left out to rot, with no real meaning or purpose, I am less so driven. As I have said before, the end result is all the same, so why bother going through it at all?

But I digress from self-righteous depressed rantings on suicidal ambitions and the futility of life.

The title of this post comes from my lack of ability to express myself. Not in said, written psychological methods, but in creative emotional outlet form. My guitar playing has good technique, but its composition is garbage. Graphic art has never really had the direct emotional release I am looking for, and was never my real strong point. I've thought about creative writing, but while I have some ideas brewing around, I don't have the infrastructure to put them all together, much less in any emotionally relieving form. So what does that leave me with? Well, a beer for one, as it seems to make the world a bit more tolerable. Though my alcoholic brother can attest to that much, it doesn't much solve the problem.

In closing, two quotes.

"How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

 Seem to me all the uses of this world!" - Hamlet, Act I, scene ii, lines 133-138 [Hamlet]

&

"...because no matter what, no matter how much money you make, no matter
how many gowns you bone, no matter how many times you groove like
NOBODY ever grooved before, in a hundred years or so, your dust.
Crumbling soot in a pine box, that our loved ones went all out for so
that you could be, crumbling soot in a pine box" - Highway, Johnny the Fox

..i'm such a perky gal.

Some are Lakes

This entry has been brought to my attention by my apparent emotional
fragility. What I find interesting is just how apt to mood swings I am
when alone. If I'm in the company of someone these are usually censored
out somewhat, to that I feel at least somewhat constant.



However, listening to the new Land of Talk album, I've gone from a low,
to a nice mellow warmth, almost as if I'd consumed some alcohol to get
that first glowing warmth from inside.



None of which would be possible if my roommate were still
here...interesting. It makes me wonder to what extent I subconsciously
control the magnification of my emotions.



A second thought, is to what extent I am simply hiding them under the
gender stereotype that males aren't supposed to express emotion
(granted I hardly fall into that category [ in mindset anyways{ for
now}]) and that I wait to express them to myself when I'm alone...interesting thoughts.

Sob Stories

Well, I will start with the holidays, now that they are finally over at least. It was overall pleasant, but long as always. It was the first holiday with my family knowing about being trans. I got some nice things, and some of it being female was always a nice change from the routine. My father got me a pendant in particular that I liked, it was a representation of the three phases of womanhood (young/mature/old) and that meant a lot to me.

After that, I went back home, then to Austin to celebrate New Years at a friend of mines, the alcohol flowed, and my mood declined as usual. I did Christmas again the next day but with my mother's side. Fun again, but I can only take so much of her mother before I start to get my fill.

So that was the holidays, another year gone, It is easy for me to underwrite everything i've done this year, and stick to my fatalistic and cynical guns. It is something I fight against, but it sneaks up on me.

My father wants me to start seeing a specialist, which is fine with me, and might get me on hormones all that much faster (I want to start before my birthday in July). The only problem is going to be finding the funds to do so, in which, I'm currently unemployed and living off my savings. I didn't get the graduate assistant job I was wanting, but i'm still looking around for what I can find. If I watch my spending I can theoretically last the entire semester without a job, it just won't be any fun. I've already had to deal with spending a lot more than I had entended with christmas and other expenses that popped up. I've slowed my electrolysis to bi-monthly and even then I may slow it down again if I have to. Hopefully, however, I can find something decent to at least get me by.

Mentally, i'm everywhere. Well, not everywhere, i'm not hitting the stratosphere at all, but the lows are there, as always. I had some pretty bad times these past couple days, it comes with being alone all the time. That is just how it is. Well now that I have significantly bummed myself out again, I shall part ways. Adieu Adieu.

On Regality

I was told I had an aura of regality today, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The girl who told me then added that I had a sense of grace about me, which I take as quite the compliment as I try to express my subtle nuances as loudly as possible.

So, news:

I got my class ring, it is quite pretty, but the main issue about that night was that I told my father about being trans. He was pretty well receiving of the information, though to be honest, I don't exactly recall everything that was said (alcohol will do that, what? I'm weak, what can I say). But there is a planned extended discussion about the issue and its...entails, later on this week.

Today was the Lavender Graduation, which is a commencement ceremony for all of us LGBTQA folk. It was a little odd since I will still be around, but generally pretty fun. I didn't get to talk to the adviser though, which bummed me out a bit. So now I think I will have to email her and ask about HRT, and where to go about getting that started.

The roommate will be leaving tomorrow, which means I have two whole days to myself to dress up, and be as much of a girly hermit as I want to. Though I don't know what if anything I will do in those two days.

As for my mental health, well it is as flaky as ever. I've been absoarbing myself in video games and movies as much as possible to avoid spending any time in my head. I had a pretty intense cry today, but that isn't anything unordinary. I'm trying to starve off another round of it at the moment, in which I may just go to bed and sleep it off.

I try and remember just what all I have done this year, and how far i've come. But that doesn't really mean anything when looking in the mirror and still seing horrors.

HA, well on that cherry note, I bid you adieu.

On the criminality of being female

So, I have to blame the pregnant man for this rant, not that I have any issues with him, but my roommate does apparently. Which is what brought up this entire issue. My roommate argued quite passionately for the maintaining of the divide between genders. He argued that he was a liar because the pregnant man's chromosomes didn't match that of a typical man (XX vs XY).

My stance on the issue is both that there is no such thing as Male or Female, but a sliding scale or spectrum of the two. Just as there are degrees of sexual preference, and that almost no one is 100% purely strait or gay, gender is much the same way. To the extent that there is no such thing as a pure or "real" man and a pure or "real" woman.

Of course his whole and entire argument lies on the basis that there is a chromosomal difference between biological males and females. While he is content to say that difference is the sole and only judgment for male and female, I do not agree. I say that a persons gender (be it role, identity, or other entirely) is much more determined by a persons behavior, personality, habits, culture, etc. Rather than look at a single aspect of a persons genetics, I think it is more true to look at the entire picture of aspects, and I don't think that one aspect of a person's DNA is the end all be all criterion for the basis of gender.

That said, why does that have to do with the criminality of being female in this country? Well as my roommate passionately went on about what it meant to be male and how the pregnant man isn't one, his debate began to confirm a position I've had for a while. That being that it is a crime to be female in this country. Now I don't mean it in a way that you will go to jail and be prosecuted. I mean it in that everything in this country revolves around men, masculinity, and anyone who is less than that, or appears to be less, is cast down, ridiculed, oppressed, or discriminated against.

Think about this, why are women still less than 1% of executive officers, despite earning half of all the masters degrees in this country, and being half of the workforce (source: Economist.com). Why are FTM (Female to Male) transexuals less scrutinized than their MTF counterparts, why are femme lesbians admired but butch lesbians shunned? In this country, masculinity is worshipped, and anything that appeals to masculinity is admired. So a MTF transsexual is shunned for casting off masculinity, a femme lesbian is approved of because she becoming more masculine (being attracted to women) while still retaining her attraction AS a woman. Compare that to masculine lesbians, who are not nearly given as much limelight or compassion for their ways of life.

Just a bit of an annoyance of mine on an observation, that it seems as long as you have a penis, or are attractive to one, you are alright. But the second you denounce one, you are cast off by this society.

What do you think? Am I way off base? Or do I ring a true tune.
))