| [004] some more rambles |
[Oct. 28th, 2009|04:28 am] |
So it's late, I cannot sleep.
I'm supposed to go to the RC in a few hours with Chris but I honestly feel like crawling under the covers and dying. I feel like shit.
And when I feel like this, my instinct is to change something. This kind of feeling usually ends with me doing something stupid or putting more holes in my body or shaving off all my hair - yeah, that was a great experience with the crazy Italian man. I was so not impressed.
Anyways, I don't know what to do. Things are not working for me and I don't know what to change.
People keep telling me I need to work on my voice, but how the fuck does a trans guy even work on his voice? Seriously? If I push my voice down any lower in its register, I cannot even make an audible sound. It sucks. Like, I am seriously considering telling everyone I am mute until at least January when I have my appointment with the new endo.
You have no idea how much it pisses me off that I'm getting bounced around the medical system like this and also that I get treated like shit by medical professionals just because I'm trans. I mean, if, say, my name was Alphonso or some shit and I wanted to go by Al or like, AJ or whatever, no one would give a shit. Gah.
Also, people keep telling me I'm a talented writer and stuff, but it feels kind of hollow.
I feel like Mark is really resentful that I want to start writing again, but I'm not entirely sure why I think that. He's not being hostile or anything towards me... Maybe I'm just paranoid. He is really stressed out these days because his teachers keep dumping arbitrary assignments on him. At least he can go to class, though. I can't even make it out the front door without someone holding my hand. I'm so bored of being here all day by myself...
Hopefully the RC tomorrow will be good for me. I mean, I really hope it will be because I feel like I'm going totally bonkers.
We're going on a tour of the mall in 12 hours. 12 hours. 12 hours and I'm going to have to be around a mall and strangers and touring it and stuff. How am I even going to deal with that business? I have a feeling sooner or later Mr. Squishy is going to be retired, because it can't be good for a stress dinosaur to get that much of a workout every day. I really hope I don't have a panic attack while we're there... I hope I don't screw something up and Chris's dad calls me a girl. It was good the first time I met him that he shook my hand. Let's not screw that up by doing anything stupidly feminine. I should be over this by now, I should be better.
Ugh. Something else that's bothering me is Chris's friend who is also trans. According to him, she's FTM but I had to ask to clarify because, you know, generally guys want to be called something masculine. So I thought it was just that they hadn't picked a name yet or something, but no. She goes by Darian, which is a cool shit name and all, but it bugs me that Chris doesn't call her by it. It's one of those things that will always bother me. He says Emma is cool with "she", "her" and Emma, but I don't know. I used to say that about the R* word and such, and it never was okay. I was just too afraid to correct people and wanted my friends to adjust on their own. I don't know. I feel like I should say something or encourage him to use the right name or something, but at the same time it's my transition so I'm not really entitled to say. Maybe it's not disrespectful in this case. I've just never met another trans person that doesn't want to be called by their chosen name and pronouns. Chris is totally respectful of Mark and I, so I can't see him clinging to the old stuff to be annoying... Maybe (s)he really doesn't mind it. It's mind-boggling to me.
We'll see during Trans Awareness Week, I guess.
God, is my mind always this rambly? I hope not.
I don't even know where to start with my writing. I have all this research and a character in mind, but I don't know how to start it. It's supposed to be semi-autobiographical, like Running with Scissors, but... it's hard to write about my own life. It's hard. I mean, this is easy. Keeping this journal is easy because I can rant to it and stuff, but at the same time it is weird. Because like, the people I know from here I also know in real life, so I'm almost afraid to say anything too personal. I guess they'll read it anyways, though, if I write the book and it gets published. I guess they know anyways from reading Seeing Red. Sometimes I still can't believe it got published, since WLUSP is so cliquey and elitist. I'm pissed off that it wasn't a proper issue of Blueprint, though.
Why is it so awkward sometimes to talk about my life? Especially to the people that might actually be important or useful...?
Well, one good thing happened on my adventure with Chris that I just remembered about. Gen texted me and she's getting Gravis back so I guess she and the weiner are coming to Mark's birthday party. I'm glad that something good is happening for someone, at least. Also, I'm excited to meet the weiner dog. They're so long and I'm fascinated with them.
Sigh. I don't mean to be so lengthy, this is just what happens when you have all day to stew about things and be like... BLARGH.
Also because I spent essentially all day with people - Mark called me at 11 and woke me up and we spent noon onwards together and such. And then I went out with Chris on an adventure, which was okay because Chris is safe. Chris and Mark are safe and sometimes the RC is safe and Gen is safe. I don't know what makes some people safe and not others. Some people are safe at certain times but not others. It's so weird. Stupid anxiety and panic and stupidness... But yeah. Hopefully the RC is safe tomorrow and I don't have any panic attacks. I didn't have any today, which is one less than I had yesterday and hopefully also tomorrow.
I wish I knew what triggered them. Sometimes it's just random. Also because I'm afraid of having them which seems to trigger them when I think about it trying to go places. There's this constant mantra playing in my head any time we go out somewhere: DON'TTHROWUPINPUBLICDON'THYPERVENTILATEJUSTBREATHESTAYCALMFUCKWHEREARETHEDOORS?
Logical, I know.
A wonderful author friend of mine told me that he started writing because he has a stutter and the written word is a way to tell his story and overcome it. The way he speaks and stutters when he reads adds a certain ambience to his work that would be lost otherwise. I wonder if it could be the same way with my writing? I wonder if my anxiety shines through everything I write and that people find it equally amusing. But it struck a chord within me, what he said, and I think part of it is true for me. I think that in my childhood, emotions and reactions were so suppressed that I started writing as an outlet for that part of my life. To tell my story, to get my reactions out without my parents finding out and telling me I was wrong. I mean, i was always wrong. I still am, according to my mother.
So that's how I became this aspiring author, this trans man, this... mess. At least, partly. I guess I'll write about it in greater detail in my book, whenever I get around to starting that. Maybe tomorrow at the RC. Maybe I'll just bring my laptop, set up camp, and try to write something. I'm invisible when I write. No one sees me and no one can touch me. If I tell that to myself enough, maybe I can believe it. |
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