tl;dr

one of those nights.

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 05:02:23 GMT

Also, also, because everyone else is doing it too (and because I'm so awake oh god I should not be this awake considering the things I know and you do not, but that's beside the point, oh god):

If you had me alone, locked up in your house for twenty-four hours and I had to do whatever you wanted me to, what would you have me do?

All comments will be permanently screened because it's a secret. Then repost this in your LJ. You might be surprised with the responses you get. Feel free to answer anonymously if you'd prefer.

baptized in florescent light.

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 04:00:56 GMT

You guys, I think my hairline is receding already.

the little deaths do matter.

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 06:29:16 GMT

This is the pick up line I fantasize about hearing more often than any other:

"You're really lonely, aren't you?"

I think I would go home with anyone who ever said that to me.

In lieu of me depressing the shit out of everyone for the holiday, which I suspect I could easily do, have a poem I've been thinking about tonight instead.

It's an all too appropriate old favorite:

Watering Stones

the little deaths do matter

luckfategodsnumbness bandages
the flood, the coffin, the telegram

pride hefts a shoulder under grief
shock stills the scream
we crack but continue
it's the special fragmentations
along the frail fine lines of us
that matter most

the wearing constancy until
one morning
unlike the one before
we awaken and are gone

-- Pat Everitt

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 13:05:31 GMT

- Alex is home for the holidays. We tried to make plans to hang out, but neither one of us could pull it off. I was pretty disappointed, but she was too, so I guess we'll just try again the next time she's back.

- The four of us went out with our friend Kate last night. Here is a list that shows how ridiculous our adventures are.

1. I worked late because I'd had a therapy appointment in the morning.
2. I left work and stopped at Old Navy.
3. I left Old Navy and headed for Laura's house.
4. I wasn't sure I'd have enough time to change into my new jeans at Laura's, so I did as much manuevering in and out of pants as I could at each stop light I came to on the way.
5. I would have had time to change at Laura's, if I'd needed it, but only just barely.
6. Drove Laura into Northampton and dropped her off at the brewing company for a date.
7. Drove back to Sunderland and fed the cats and took those pictures real quick.
8. Drove to work and picked up Lora and Annie so the three of us could go to Packard's, where we were supposed to meet Kate at 7 and Laura whenever her date ended.
9. Annie informed me as soon as she got in the car that Laura's date had cancelled last minute by calling the restaurant and that Laura'd been stranded for an hour and a half because a) she didn't have her car (obviously) and b) she'd left her cell phone at home by mistake, but that the good news was Annie'd called Kate on Laura's behalf and Kate'd gone to meet her early.
10. Finally, arrival! Found Kate and Laura and Laura dragged me outside for a few minutes while the others got a table, and then there was food and drink and mirth shared by everyone. Huzzah.

And that was just the "up until" portion of the evening. Hahaha!

- Laura and I are good again. Not sure what was going on, really, but I made her gluten-free cupcakes last week and served them fresh out of the oven and things have been pretty awesome ever since. Apparently she likes my new hat a lot. Yay.

- There was something else. I know there was something else. Oh, the waitress kept calling us "ladies" last night and it bothered me until I realized she'd seen my driver's license, which I haven't changed over yet because I need to have my therapist fill out the form to get the gender marker changed on it first.

I was waffling over whether or not to change it to M, because I wasn't sure if I wanted it to conflict with my passport, but as inconvenient as it would be if I ran into travel issues, hsving the ability not to disclose if I don't want to (on a daily basis!) is much more important right now. Also, avoiding situations like last night = A++.

- Laura is going on vacation for the next week and a half or whatever. She told us we should eat our fill of gluten while she's gone. Lora seems to be kind of excited, but I am weirdly underwhelmed. I mean, I eat plenty of gluten anyway, but now we can actually cook with it, like for dinner.

Which, now that I'm talking about it, reminds me of something I'd wanted to talk about a few days ago. The other day I was looking up recipes I wanted to try with a focus on GF items, since that's largely what we make, and I kept running into comments that said things like, "It almost tastes real!" and other variations on that theme, and, like, I found myself having the same sort of angry gut reaction to people referring to the most common version of the recipe as the "real" thing and the GF version as the "fake" thing - or even worse, referring to the GF item as "fake" even if it wasn't based on an originally non-GF recipe - as I get when people use "bio" to mean "cis" or "non-bio" to mean "trans".

People are biological, regardless of their gender history! Promise! And dude, "fake" is not the word you're looking for. GF food is still food. Promise!

I mean, I eat a fair amount of it every week, and you can tell it's every bit as real as any other kind of food because this cuddly figure doesn't keep itself, I promise!

- Ahhhhhh, speaking of cuddly figures, I can't wait to find out whether or not I'm going to have a fuzzy little belly. I sure hope so. And if the hair on my forearms could come in within the first several months, I'd appreciate that too, because I am full-on ready to stop salivating over every forearm I see that manages to be furrier than mine, which is pretty much every one of them.

Man. I've been all over forearms for a good number of years now. I wonder why it took me so long to figure out what that was all about.

ETA: AHH. I love my sister's on-again off-again so. much. A text from her from this morning (via Google Voice, thanks again celeria!):

"So Shaquille went on my fb last night to look and he was just mesmerized. He says the look works and that youre a hot guy"

Hahaha. He is always my favorite. Also, having this Voice account is so insanely helpful, particularly with talking to my sister, as texting is the only consistent way of being able to communicate with her. We've been talking all morning, and it's helping a lot with feeling like I'm missing out on festivities back home.

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 06:08:12 GMT

I am terrible at remembering to lock the door to the apartment.

(Lora, on the other hand, is terrible at remembering not to lock it. Sometimes I'll lag behind her when we're both coming in from some place, and then I get to the top of the stairs and turn the knob and she's managed to accidentally lock me out in the space of about 30 seconds.)

Anyway. I'm terrible at locking the door. So every time I hear someone on the stairs out in the hallway, I think, "Is someone coming for me? Is someone going to come in?" and then whoever it is stops moving as they reach the landing and there's this rustling noise as they shuffle through their things and inevitably there's this moment when I hold my breath entirely, waiting to find out whether it's our door they're reaching for, or if it's another.

It's always another. Or, at least, it has been so far. But every time this happens, every time I'm holding myself so completely still, I think, "Who is it that I want it to be? Who is it that I'm waiting for that I'm so quick to catch my breath?"

Wed, 23 Dec 2009 23:25:41 GMT

You know, I hadn't shopped at Old Navy in almost ten years until I started transitioning, but for some reason I like their dude clothes so much better than their lady clothes. I think they must fit better or something. In general, I mean. Not just on me.

Anyway. I grabbed a few things tonight, because I needed them.

A hat.

A belt.

Jeans.

All of the above.

...and now I have to run because we are going out for drinks with co-workers. Today was Shot #2. For the record.

if you build a house at the beach, it's automatically a beach house.

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 17:26:52 GMT

Aw, crap.

Christmas cards from my dad and maternal grandma addressed to "Marshall".

Dad's card isn't perfect; it has my old name on it in a few places, and it's also a "For Daughter" card, but the fact that he addressed the longest part of the message to me by the right name was enough to make me tear up.

Grandma's card, on the other hand, out and out made me cry when I read it: she said she's thinking of me every day and that she misses me terribly, and then she wrote, "This is still pr very hard on me. You will always be my [old name]."

"Please don't be angry with me," she added on a separate line.

And, like, I cried so hard at her reaction when I came out to her a few months ago, because it was so unexpectedly amazing, and I just wish I could, like, throw my arms around her in the most gigantic hug ever and tell her that there's no way I'm mad at her, because I love so much that she's a) acknowledging how hard it is on her while b) continuing to respect me and c) not placing the burden of the adjustment on me.

I don't know if that's more than I could ask for, because there's a lot of things trans* people can ask for that we don't necessarily get, but it's certainly more than I expected, and oh god, I miss her. I miss both of them. All the time, really, but this week it's especially hard.

the sun in the morning.

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 22:51:21 GMT

I had a lot I wanted to say yesterday, particularly after leaving my first therapy appointment in two weeks, but then I came home and saw the FedEx envelope and promptly forgot it all.

So.

Reconstructing:

1. I figure this is obvious after my post last night, however short and vague it may have been, but there is now testosterone in my body! I am all injected and stuff!

I don't think I mentioned this, but I had been feeling some nerves over the whole starting testosterone business over the last couple of weeks. Not enough that I ever got to the point of not wanting the T, but more like general second thought-type thoughts which I assume are exceedingly natural with huge things like this (and I've heard from other trans guys who are on T that they felt similarly in weeks leading up to their first injections, so although I already wouldn't have been too concerned by the presence of second thoughts, I'm doubly less concerned knowing that), but then I got home and saw the package waiting for me and honestly the only thing I felt was this gigantic, overwhelming sense of relief, like I'd been holding my breath for the last nine months and could finally let it out. I just kept smiling as I pulled out the vial of the testosterone itself, the bag of syringes, the extra needles, the receipt, and I lined them up in front of me and just made starry eyes at them for a few minutes with this goofy, easy smile on my face the entire time.

...then I stuck the needle in my leg, and it was awesome! I can't feel any of the effects yet, obviously, but I feel good. Like I came home.

2. On an entirely different note, I am bumping into a problem with my friends over domestic-type things.

Lora and Laura are both compulsive dish washers. I am not. This hasn't been too much of an issue in the past, but as the idea of moving in together becomes more and more of an actual possibility, it's becoming an issue. To the point where Laura told us (or rather - me) earlier this week that if I don't get better about it, she won't live with us.

I know I have to do something, because I care and I care about her feelings and I care about us living together, but as this whole dish washing thing has become more of an issue, my weirdly violent, intense resistance to doing something that, when it comes down to it, I actually sort of enjoy sometimes, has brought me to realize that I have huge psychological hang-ups about being asked to wash the dishes (and being shamed for not doing them right or in a timely fashion), for a combination of reasons that all lead back to my family, that I'm not ready to let go of, because if I let it go then I have no other source of pure, unmoderated rage at my parents, and I think that, however misplaced this rage over a simple chore may be, having that source is a good thing for me, and one that I need to take the time to examine and integrate into the rest of the (far more complex) feelings I have about my parents, as a part of the grieving that I am actively trying to do over them and what my relationship with them is and has been and what it's not and won't be and oh my god there's so much I have to face about what it won't be that's really killing me.

So, you know, that's this huge, monumental task that I'm really proud of myself for trying to undertake, that I really want to see what kind of person I am when I'm not wrapped up in them, which I continue to be even now, and I'm trying to give myself a lot of room in which to do that, to do this grieving, and, so, at the moment, I genuinely feel as if it is in my best interest not to just "suck it up" and prioritize Laura's needs over mine, as she suggested, or rather just said that if I don't do it then none of us get this thing we all want - and by the by I'm feeling pretty disappointed that she can't see that my issues with dishes are just as valid as hers, considering that our issues, as differently as they may manifest themselves, really do stem from strikingly similar places or that just because the manifestation of my issue involves not doing something whereas her manifestation involves her doing a lot of things, that doesn't mean that hers automatically "wins" - but at the same time, I do care about her and I want to have compassion for her needs and I do want us to live with her, so I need to find a way to balance both of our needs, but I just don't know how, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't think I give a shit because I was really kind of cold when the three of us talked about it the other night, but that's because I was on the verge of tears because I hate that these two things I want so much (my own healing, to maintain this family we've created) are butting up against each other in a way that doesn't seem compatible, and I hate that this maintenance feels like it's coming down on my shoulders, even though it's probably not, but I'm the one who needs to find a solution, and I wish I knew for certain that I had their hands with me on this (this being both the dishes and all the shit I'm processing), but I have this sickly, terrible feeling like I don't (on either count) or that if I do, that it's not going to last for much longer.

3. This is sort of related, but there was something else that came up in a (separate) conversation I had with Laura earlier this week that's really bothering me.

I don't tend to show a lot of external stress. My way of coping with stress is generally to acknowledge its presence, assess what I can do, and then set about doing whatever that is, while simultaneously finding a way to forgive myself for whatever it is that I can't do.

I don't know if the full effect of that comes across here, because this is a place where I do a lot of that initial acknowledging, but it's pretty hard to make me lose my cool, and not only that, but somehow I'm pretty good at putting people at ease about their own stress just by sort of being present or whatever.

My second favorite ex-girlfriend used to call it my "zen", and I can still hear her voice curled around my ear as she'd sigh into the phone and tell me how good it felt to stop worrying for once. I made her feel normal, she said to me one time, and what she meant was that I made her feel like she was and would continue to be okay, even in the face of things that were stressful and hurtful. She was the first of my lovers who acknowledged that quality in me, as previously it was mostly just my mom and my sister who benefited from it, and I loved so much that she loved it and loved me for it.

(I'm thinking about it now, and it's funny to me that the quality I love most about myself in regards to being in a relationship and what I can provide to my partner (or partners) in a relationship is something that I developed so strongly through my relationship with my mother, because that sort of preternaturally quiet well of faith and strength is definitely something I learned while taking care of her through the years, and I know it's something she relied on heavily for a very long time, and being able to have that strength for her and for the other people in my life is something I've always loved to be able to provide, even though it's also been something that was detrimental at times.)

But at the same time, although, I think, a certain amount of neuroticism resonates well with me as a result of my own anxieties, poor management of stress itself is something that really, really bothers me. And, unfortunately, being someone who tends to surround himself with anxious people, I spend a lot of time being really, really bothered.

(As I think about how to continue from the point which I've reached, I find myself thinking about cup_o_jo deals with her stress and how much her particular brand of external pragmatism juxtaposed against an internal, deep generosity of time and attention and thoughtfulness toward the full range of her emotions resonates with me and how much I really do love her for that.)

Anyway. I was getting a few things off my chest with Laura the other morning - things that were not related to her, in case that's ambiguous - and in particular I was venting about how much stress and the inefficient management of stress and the disregard for any sort of perspective or handle on circumstantial reality while experiencing stress is really difficult for me to put up with, because there's too much shit that I've seen my loved ones deal with (and that I've dealt with myself) for me to think that 99% of the things that people stress out about are worth the time or energy when that time and energy can, generally speaking, be put to much more productive use, often in resolving the stressful situation that's the problem in the first place.

Which isn't to say that the concern behind the stress is invalid or that anxiety is invalid or anything like that, because I think those are things we should listen to when our brains start talking, at least long enough to figure out where it's coming from and how to deal with it, but just that it's a waste of time and our beautiful, valuable resources and an astounding, heartbreaking lack of faith in and underselling of our own value and strength and ability to thrive and get by and get through and get done when we do that and I, just, augh. It kind of kills me.

So, anyway, I'm venting to Laura, and I don't know if it was just a poor example I gave for the audience to which I was giving it, but she made this comment in response that was basically implying that of course I didn't understand because I never stress about anything, even the things that I should, and that normal people who care about things get stressed, and, like, okay, I know I play my emotions close to the vest sometimes, and I know I take certain things in stride that most other people get really worked up about, but what the hell else am I supposed to do? I do what I can, I keep doing what I can, and at the end of the fucking day I make my fucking peace with it. It's not like I'm not concerned or that these things are always easy to make peace with, but there's nothing more that any of us can do, and I'm really upset that she genuinely seems to think I don't give a shit about stuff. Is it really possible to misread me that badly? I am, like, the king of giving a shit about stuff, giving a shit about stuff is really important to me, and I think my resilience and my general outward reserve and generally warm unflappability is a pretty awesome thing, one I thought my friends relied on, but is it not? Am I wrong about that? Or does she just not appreciate it? And if that's the case, like, what are we doing here?

...and that's the end of part one, as it's off to pick up Lora from work and to stop at the grocery store I go, so this will have to continue later.

Coming up next in my reconstructed thoughts: sex, parentification, lack of thoughtfulness, and what I am baking tonight! Stay tuned.

T-minus nothing.

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:46:29 GMT

It's here.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Heart stop racing, I've got shit to accomplish here.

the heart is pounding and you are always on my mind.

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 07:41:59 GMT

How the fuck is it one in the morning? All I've done today is fuck, sleep, and cry - and I'm not done crying yet, so I'm going to need it to be earlier than it is, thanks.

If I've been quiet this week, it's because I'm resisting the urge to try and intellectualize my feelings right now, given their range and intensity. I've actually been prepping myself for a self-induced emotional overload, which involves keeping all the nerves in my body on edge via various physical means and listening to enough music that I'm on the verge of tears at all times.

This album's been really helpful:

Lost Wisdom - Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron and Fred Squire

I suppose it's only appropriate that it brings me to tears (I was listening to "Voice in Headphones" during my third consecutive cycle through of the album and discovered, rather belatedly, several minutes later, that my face was absolutely soaked), considering its back story, but oh god, lack of surprise does not negate emotional power. Jesus Christ.

(Ironically, "Voice in Headphones" is actually about how Phil Elverum can't listen to Björk's "Undo" without being moved to tears himself, which makes it especially meta that I, in turn, cry over his song.)

(Also ironic is that I was listening to some of Julie Doiron's solo stuff earlier and thinking about how thoroughly her voice has infiltrated my mind in the last year and thinking about how much it moves me, and of course then I start listening to this and those thoughts about her voice are basically the subtext behind the entire album. Glad to see I'm not the only one so devastated by her, not that I thought there was any possibility that I was.)

This part will only be relevant for people who are either already familiar with the album or who download and listen to it after this post, but I will say it here anyway.

The four songs that move me the most are "Lost Wisdom", "Voice in Headphones", "What?" and "With My Hands Out". If they move you too, I would like to hear about it. The last two, I think, are the two I find most affecting.

These are the lyrics, if you are the kind of people who care about such things. They could be poetry:

What?

What do I want with my life
Now that I’m blinded by your light?
Should I keep trying to see through it
Or just lovingly close them?
Should I?
What do I want
Now that the air leaves my lungs
And I roll over to you in the night?
Should I breathe you in?
You're floating beside
What do I want when we’re apart
Now that I’m wed to you?
I am holding an open door
Though I will not contain you
What do I want with my soft skin
Now that you're near to me my bride?
Nothing I do not want it
Just let me feed you
What do I endlessly ask about
Now that your love swells and pounds me?
I know nothing now that I know you
Your fog's wrapped around me
Invisible inside it
Dumb and blind
Newborn babies come to life on my face
They say, “Ta-da”

With My Hands Out

I want to go back across that sea
With my hands out
And I will rise from the water
Though I'm cold and wet I will be clean
I want come back from this robbery
With my hands up
And I will lie down and be handcuffed
Take me I will be yours
Dripping wet
Just try and hold me
I am dripping wet and limp

...this kind of art is the kind of art that makes me proud to be a person.

Anyway.

About that whole emotional overload business. I'm not sure how it hasn't happened yet, but apparently we're still waiting on something. First injection? Maybe, but I don't think so. I'm not sure what it is. I am assuming we're just waiting for the moment at which its resolution will have the greatest effect, but I don't actually have a fucking clue if that's true or not. That's kind of the definition of going entirely on feeling here: it's a little bit like trying to find my way around in the dark, and that's the whole fucking point.

In the moments that I step back long enough to observe myself I find it so fascinating to watch the build up, watch all the little things I am doing to prepare. The moments when I bring myself to the edge, moments when I accidentally spill over it just a little, the quietness that follows while I wait until it's all contained again. It's astonishingly sexual, which shouldn't be surprising, except that it is. This post has been in the back of my mind. I am hoping for catharsis on that level, though I'm not sure I will get it.

Yesterday was one month since my first date with Kay. "Happy one month of turning me on," she said last night, straddling me and leaning forward for a kiss while I strained up at her. I am in fine form when I am with her, and the energy that slinks out between our bodies is intoxicating. I do not think it would be an exaggeration to say that I went down on her for at least five hours this week, over the course of maybe three days, and that number could have easily been doubled if she could have taken any more.

My perpetual fascination with (and loving attention to) people and their limits is serving both of us well, I think. Well, her begging last night and her still being incapacitated this morning attest to that much. Oh, it's thrilling, and it's the kind of thrill that builds on itself. I can't wait to see where this has been taken a few months from now.

Bringing her off is actually incredibly similar to what I've been doing with myself emotionally; in the back of my mind, that may have been a conscious move, but mostly I think it's a natural product of the aforementioned fascination with people and their limits. It's timely, in any case, and I honestly can't imagine a relationship more complementary to everything else that is going on with me right now.

Also, I had a dream this afternoon that I randomly found a whole bunch of pot... maybe in my sister's room? I feel like that's what happened. And my mom was there, and she and I decided it was fine if I pocketed it, and she said I should go ahead and smoke as much as I'd like whenever I'd like, as long as I still got my chores done, so oh man, guess what's been on my mind? Guess what I want for Christmas? Yep. Subtle, subconscious! Real subtle. That would actually be a really nice gift though. I wonder if I can find a way to pull that off. Hmm.

"life," he mutters and scuffs his toe in the dust.

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 12:35:25 GMT

Long catch up conversation with my cousin Tim last night. Apparently the classy side of my family isn't doing so classy right now.

Among other things, I learned that my dad's fallen farther off the vaguely wagon-shaped vehicle I was under the impression he was on than I've seen him fall in years, and that at least one of my aunt-uncle pairs thinks I am at fault.

Trans people, turning life-long alcoholics and drug addicts... back... into alcoholics and drug addicts every day since the beginning of time. Fuck yeah.

Every time someone has asked me how I'm doing in, say, the last six months, I've had no idea how to respond. Yesterday I asked a woman I was doing work for how she was doing, and she took in half of a deep breath, let it out shakily, and said, "Better." Pause and a smile. Quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

And I knew what she meant, and it's moments like that that tempt me to say this has been the greatest year of my life, but it's also been the worst, and most of the time I just don't have a fucking clue which it is.

losing where you end and I begin.

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 16:54:33 GMT

I cannot cry at work, I cannot cry at work, I cannot cry at work.

Just called the compounding pharmacy I'm going to be using to make sure they had the type of T the doctor prescribed for me in stock, and they do, and the lady was so nice, and oh my god it's so close I can taste it taste it taste it taste it taste it.

(I cannot cry at work.)

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 04:26:18 GMT

Because it should be noted somewhere:

Experiment began at 11:45 this morning.

Another post will be made when experiment ends.

long, longer, longest.

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 23:44:31 GMT

So I think that the emotional distance/strangeness/vague, unsettling aggression I mentioned the other night (though I think I left out the part about the aggression) may have been an effect of not taking my ADHD medication, which is to say, not having had any coffee that day.

I hate to admit that, because it's hard for me to separate the difference between when other people say they don't function well without coffee, meaning that they've got a physiological addiction to the caffeine, and when I say I don't function well without coffee, meaning that I've skipped a day of (what is essentially) prescribed treatment for a neurobehavioral disorder.

...and I wonder where my knee-jerk disdain for being one of "those" people in the former category comes from, because I don't react with such automatic disdain for any other addiction that I can think of. Maybe it's just that coffee addicts can be so fucking irritating about their shit sometimes. I don't ever want to be lumped in with that group; if I ever get that glib and self-righteous, god, just punch me in the face already.

Then again, maybe it's just that if it were an addiction, I would own that, but it's not, and that's a distinction that matters to me, but not to many others, I worry.

A tangle of things:

I have the script for the T. I keep fingering its outline in my left rear pocket, which is where it has been since I left Dr. Ferry's office Thursday morning. I don't have the money to fill it until next Friday, and to be honest I kind of like the feeling of the forced delay. I'm eager, and I'm a little scared, and this feeling is almost exactly like the one I get whenever I'm about to get new ink: this combination of fear and intense desire, and an especially fragile/volatile variety of giddiness. I am going to puke, going to come, and I don't know which is going to happen first or if they'll even happen far enough apart to even be considered separate events in the first place.

I have been watching this video (of a trans man getting his dick sucked while administering his injection, NSFW NSFW NSFW) a hell of a lot. I am tempted to say that I couldn't say whether the blowjob or the shot is the hotter part, but what the fuck ever, it's the shot. It's totally the shot. And I say that as someone who has fantasized about getting his dick sucked since early, early boy(who didn't yet know he was a boy)hood, as someone who still fantasizes about it, so that should say something about how incredibly fucking hot I think the shot is, because just the blowjob itself is making me cream myself all over the place. Augh.

Relatedly, I've been thinking a lot about genital piercings lately, and I think once my dick(/clit) growth seems fairly complete, I want to get it done. (Cream cream cream cream creaming some more.)

The doctor also prescribed iron for me, as I was 100% correct about the pica and the iron deficiency. Apparently my iron is so low that she was shocked I'm not anemic yet, but I am not anemic, so that's good. She said I should feel leaps and bounds better once there's more iron in my system, so that's also good.

Interesting to note: it came back in my blood work that I seem to have high-ish levels of T in my body already, at least as far as FAAB people are concerned, though not with any noticeable side effects. She checked for PCOS as well, and beyond the slightly elevated T levels and my weight, there don't seem to be any signs that I have it. Heh.

Stopped by the courthouse after my appointment, to follow up with the name change business. They're finalizing things; I should have mail within a week or so letting me know the outcome.

In extremely ironic timing, someone at the doctor's office had called me by (the shortened, gender neutral version of) my birth name near the beginning of my appointment, and it made my chest flutter in a terrible, bittersweet sort of way.

There were a lot of people who asked me, when I first started coming out as trans, why I didn't just use that - because it could be a boy's name too - but I maintained then (and continue to maintain now) that using my birth name was something I wouldn't be comfortable with, even if I were to legally masculinize it.

That being said, there is something lovely and strong about the shortened version and I would make a beautiful man with that as my name. There is a part of me that wishes I could be okay with it still. I think part of the problem with it actually has to do with how often I got teased with the masculine version when I was younger and how familiar the (whining, sickly) words "But I'm not a boy" taste in my mouth when I hear it. I don't think I could ever completely erase that (Pavlovian) reaction, and as weird as it sounds, the moments where I throw myself into dysphoria are infinitely more nauseating than when other people throw me into it, so, sorry birth name, it's not going to be on, even if I am going to spend the next week or so riding out a wave of regret that we're not compatible anymore.

I finished my most recent period earlier this week. I keep stumbling over the fact that my remaining periods are numbered now. Numbered how, there's no way to tell. But numbered they are, and it's a strange thought.

How do I feel? Physiologically I feel ready for it to be over. I've had it for more than ten years now, and I still can't figure out how to handle it any more consistently than shoving gobs of toilet paper into my pants every month, as embarrassing and irrational as that sounds. I don't know what it is; intellectually, I know there are much better methods of dealing with it, but I've never been able to bring myself to deal with it any better than that, not for any extended period of time, because every time I think about it I feel (emotionally) sick to my (emotional) stomach and just want to throw up, so I do my best to think about it as little as possible. It's not a reaction I've ever understood (or cared to understand, until relatively recently), but it's one that's followed my around since the beginning of my first puberty.

(Oh, jesus, I am willingly taking on a second puberty. Now you know I'm a fucking masochist.)

Now, that being said, here's another pang of regret: I have no issue with being a man with a period. Other people seem to be distressed by it, i.e. some of my friends if I make the 'mistake' of mentioning cramps or some other sort of menstrual ailment, who seem to have trouble remembering who I am (and who I'm not). But I have no issue with it, and in fact, I am sorry that it's not something I handle better physiologically, because I will be sorry, in a certain way, to see it go. I am not most men, and menstruation is a strength to me, is something I admire about the people in my life who handle it better than I do, and I will be sorry to lose that commonality I've thus far been able to share with certain people.

(Strange, not to be saying 'women' at the end of that sentence, but that would make women who can't (or don't choose to) menstruate and men who can't (or don't choose to) stop menstruating invisible, and oh, transition, how grateful I am to you for turning me onto such revelations and how embarrassed and ashamed I am that it took personal experience to do so. The gratitude is greater than the shame, however, as the shame itself is incredibly motivating and brings me its own odd brand of gratitude.)

A second pang of (something like) regret: my fertility. Not sure how to unpack that just yet, but it's been heavy on my mind over the last month or so. The only times I've really considered carrying children were when I was dating people who preferred my womb in use to theirs, but I've always maintained on my own that that's not what my uterus was meant for, and I still feel that way. But at the same time, I always hoped that if I decided to have children with someone, that my genetics would somehow find a way into the equation, and there may come a point in my transition where that's no longer a possibility. Something to think about.

Anyway. And now that some of the bittersweetness has been expressed, can I say what joy there is? What bottomless, unfathomable joy? The joy of creating space for myself, within myself? The joy of freedom, the autonomy to do so? The joy of discovery? The joy of self-love, of intoxication, of new kinds of intimacy? To live in a universe where this is a possibility, despite the very real legal and civil rights shortfalls that exist, is nothing short of a miracle.

A well-intentioned woman at work told me that she thinks this is brave of me, because there are people who don't like her just because of her personality, and she's not even someone who's transitioned, and yet here I am taking on this additional burden in the quest to be liked by everyone. Which is, just, a baffling concept to me, in so many ways. I mean, I am somebody who takes this deep sort of pleasure in being as likable as I am, but to actually aim for that? I've never met anyone who tries to be likable who actually succeeds at it, at least not without alienating me and most of the people I love most in the process. And, then, of course, there's the part of her sentiment that suggests that the presence of transsexualism in my life somehow makes it a challenge for me to be liked, regardless of any other fact about me, and that's such fucking bullshit, because for anyone for whom that's true, for anybody who thinks that's a valid factor in determining whether or not they like a person, they've got shit of their own to examine, because my path to owning my own identity is just that: a path. We've all got one, and mine's only mildly unusual at best because it includes as many medical and legal hoops as it does, but when it comes down to it there's nothing especially different about mine than there is about anyone else's, and if somebody thinks there is, then maybe they should consider taking that as a sign that society's conceptions of trans identities need major overhauling.

Speaking of that shit, non-trans does not mean the same thing as straight. Trans doesn't mean the same thing as gay/lesbian/queer. I heard that suggestion like three times this week in various forms, including someone who mentioned homophobia in terms of me being in a relationship with a woman. Queer, fuck yeah, I'll claim that, but that's because of how I personally identify, not because the presence of a trans person automatically queers shit up - if there's homophobia involved that means there's gender essentialism going on that needs to fucking stop, and that's an entirely different issue, really, one that would negate any homophobia involved if it were to be resolved. (Which isn't to say that homophobia is any less serious than transphobia, just that it's irrelevant here and that its presence is indicative of unexamined cissexism as well.)

So, this is a long entry. I've been writing it since eight this morning. Ironically enough it took me a couple of hours to be able to focus on it any farther than the opening bit about my medicinal coffee usage, because it took me a couple of hours to remember that I have to drink it on weekends too. Ha. This is partially because I'm used to thinking of productivity and having the capacity for it in terms of how well I function in my job, failing to even consider the ways in which it affects me in my life outside of work as well, and partially because it's hard for me to remember to bother to distinguish between brain chemistry issues and moments when I wouldn't be interested in focusing even if I had the ability to, though it's more and more rewarding when I do remember to do so. My brain still hasn't entirely made the connection between "Oh, I do have ADHD" and "Oh, I can treat its symptoms" yet; it will be nice when it does.

This entry is so long I've written all the way through Laura showing up and making dinner for the four of us. Tonight it's a white chili, which is just perfect for this weather. Last night it was pasta with a tomato-spinach sauce and grilled chicken, for which I did the spicing, spinach because Laura is trying to make sure I get more iron in my diet and spicing because all of three of them asked me to. (The happiness I find in that reminds me so much of my dad it's ridiculous.) Cooking for people, being cooked for by people, it's all such an act of love. It's hard for me to express how blessed I am to have this family we've made.

...also, fuck, this chili is good.

In other news, time is coming down to "time when I am with her" and "time when I am without her". I have apparently become an absolutely shameless stealer of panties and spent all day yesterday with my hand stuck in my pocket, fingering them, and thinking about how quiet she makes things in my brain.

She has these two freckles a couple of inches apart, right in the center of her chest, just barely above the beginning slope of the tops of her breasts. There is something about their placement I find so fucking beautiful; I don't know how long I spent tracing my fingers over them the other night. It's the same with every part of her, and this gets into why I'm never sure whether or not I am a top, a bottom, a dominant, a submissive. I am an effortless lead; my mood, my emotions, they dominate, but - do I? My pleasure is deeply rooted in giving pleasure, and if I am giving any order, it is the order to let go, to enjoy, to accept, and it's that I don't know what to do with, that I don't know what to call. Can it really be topping, when everything I am is in service of illuminating beauty so acute it breaks my heart?

I make things difficult by omission, I know. There are things I will give without request, things I will make simple, and then there are the things I would rather be taken from me. My otherwise consummate generosity makes this unimaginable, I believe, or at the very least, an extremely unlikely thought. But make no mistake, I want to be taken with as much certainty as I take, to be owned with as much certainty as I own. This will take time, and as with many other things, there's a perverse sort of pleasure I take in the struggle to cage my eagerness while being forced to wait for something I desperately want, as well as the slick, swollen anticipation of waiting to see if it is even a possibility.

...an eleven hour entry. Did anyone make it all the way to the end? Sure am earning the title of my journal now, aren't I? Heh.

thirty-three minutes to go.

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 13:29:26 GMT

Ahhhhh, butterflies.

Okay, now I can feel the excitement.

down on my knees and you just keep on gettin' closer.

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 05:32:03 GMT

A fragment from yesterday:

She stands behind me in the mirror and murmurs, "This is a good angle," and then she's running her hands down and over my hips, around to my front. Up my stomach, up my chest, and I'm leaning forward on locked elbows, dropping my head forward, pressing back into her. Twisting to face her with something like a low moan, and she's trailing her arms over the back of my head and chuckling into my mouth as we start a kiss that's not going to end anytime soon, even though we both know she should have left ages ago.

- we only have a few minutes, and we're not going to fuck, not this time, but if there's one thing I love about being a queer man in a relationship with a queer lady, it's the prospect of getting well and truly fucked, and I have a feeling that it's going to be fucking incendiary when it actually happens with this one.

And if there's one thing I love about being this queer man in a relationship with this queer lady, in particular, it's how much we're both willing to play the game. I've been trying to figure out how to best describe the game, but all I can come up with is that it's like mutual emotional masturbation for masochists, and it's fucking awesome. I also love that it's being played completely without discussion of the fact that it is, indeed, being played, and that not talking about playing the game is, in fact, a large part of playing the game successfully. Goddamn do I get off on this shit.

Things I also get off on: discovering that she has legs strong enough to hold her entire weight around my waist while I'm standing upright, not anywhere in proximity to anything like a wall; her fingers drifting up the front of my binder while I re-dress (the look in her eyes like the transformation of my body is the sexiest thing she's ever seen); the way she sinks her teeth into my neck and tells me later she's going to get herself off to the thought of the marks she left on me;

No, I probably won't finish that. Spoiler alert: it ends with my fingers stuck between my thighs.

...everything was very strange today, emotionally speaking. Even my own thoughts feel like they're coming to me through some kind of a filter. I had therapy for the first time in a couple of weeks, and I spent the entire time alternating between blinking blankly and saying I wasn't sure what I was thinking about - she had to ask! - and then rambling impassively about my concerns with this whole grieving process bullshit, with regards to my family of origin.

(Note: I am not actually calling grief bullshit. I'm just not able to connect with it on any level deeper than that at the moment.)

Heh, anyway. I could potentially leave tomorrow's endo appointment with the script for T in hand. My therapist asked me about that too. All I could say was, "It feels... really nice," which, again, feelings are not close at hand today. But it's true. It does feel really nice.

thoughtful sound

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 03:24:05 GMT

A song that has become more meaningful to me since transitioning:

Inside A Boy - My Brightest Diamond

and in his eyes
are a thousand stars
on a dark sky

we are clouds
we are whispers
like fawns and shape-shifters
our edges can never be found out

I have not had coffee this morning, but here are ten things I'm thinking right now.

Wed, 02 Dec 2009 15:04:25 GMT

1. I keep forgetting to ask, is there any Emily/Jordan fic out there for CM? I finally saw Jordan's first episode last week during the CM marathon on A&E or whatever, and homg I'd heard people say they had chemistry, but I had no idea it was so... obvious. Jesus. I hate to say it, but Emily and Jordan's chemistry in their first episode together > Emily and JJ's chemistry in their first episode together.

2. OKAY, SO. EVERY TIME I HAVE SNEEZED IN THE LAST WEEK IT HAS BEEN A TRIPLE. AM I A MULTI-SNEEZER NOW? ONCE YOU BECOME A MULTI-SNEEZER, CAN YOU EVER REVERT TO MONO-SNEEZER STATUS? ...this question is v. important to me, obv.

3. No more working with scorers until the beginning of next week. :( But I will be in and out of the area where they're working today, so maybe I will see a few of my ladies that way. Even if none of the other things in this entry had happened yesterday, it would have been a great day, just because of the scorers. They are so delightful!

4. Lured Kay to the apartment for a few minutes yesterday afternoon with the prospect of pretty BPAL scents. She left wearing the same one I had on (my favorite!) and I can't lie, the thought of her wearing my scent for the rest of the night was ridiculously hot. After she left I kept rubbing my nose over my own wrists and getting flustered all over again.

5. Also, since we're on the subject, sometimes I look at LJ and forget it's not Facebook and I'm surprised there isn't a space on my profile for it to say "in a relationship with _______", ahaha. Have I mentioned how much I love dating fellow LJ-ers?

6. Lora, Laura, Annie and I saw Fantastic Mr. Fox last night, and it was absolutely incredible. There were some parts that dragged, but I don't think I've ever laughed out loud during a movie as much as I did during this one. At least, not at the theater.

7. Then we ran into Jack coming out of another movie! Ugh, I miss Jack. I proposed to him for his birthday a couple of weeks ago, and now he and Rosie and I are trying to work out an arrangement. We shall see how that goes. We are all switches when it comes to spooning, so I think it will work out all right!

8. I had a dream last night that I went to my endocrinologist appointment two days early. It was almost eerily realistic, and the woman who was so good about my name/pronouns when I was there last month was in it, teasing me for being early. I don't know. It's really amusing right now. I can't wait until tomorrow!

9. My friend Liz just sent around an e-mail asking a few of us for help naming her new kittens. I think she should either name them after video game villains or drag queens, but I think I am being outvoted. Okay, whatever, I like ridiculous names.

10. Speaking of liking ridiculous things, HOMG, Lady Gaga. So there is this song on her new album called "Monster", and in it, there's this guy, who is a monster. Supposedly. Except Lady Gaga can't even remember if they're f*cked before. (She can't quite recall.) But he's definitely the monster. AND THEN THEY FRENCH KISSED ON THE TRAIN. AND HE TORE HER CLOTHES RIGHT OFF. HE ATE HER HEART AND THEN HE ATE HER... BRAIN. AND HE'S A MONSTER.

...also, there's an entire song that's just about HOPE and MASTURBATION. When she's sad, she touches herself! And then everything's okay! And then there are also some other times she touches herself, and everything's okay then, too! She's going to be your best friend, because she loves you, and she's so happy she could die! And it's all right! AND IT'S ALL RIGHT.

P.S. Tasty, delicious sushi for breakfast is FTW! I know tasty and delicious are pretty much the same thing, but it tastes so good I had to say it twice. &SPICY CALIFORNIA ROLLS;

confession: they are not all little (or old) (or ladies), but most of them are all of the above.

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 22:55:14 GMT

Ahh, okay, so, Lora thinks this was stupid of me, but I rescheduled my endocrinologist appointment from tomorrow to Thursday because I would have missed out on two(!) days of working with my favorite sexagenarians if I didn't.

I know, I'm lame, but I really love working for women of a certain age, you guys.

Today was Day 1, which means I am in a pretty good mood right now. A job so well done it might as well be an ode to efficiency, a room full of little old ladies getting my pronouns right and cooing over the cowgirl, and the prospect of doing it all over again tomorrow: BLISS.

I think the fact that sometimes I look like this is why older women love me:

also, I love this song completely unabashedly.

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:59:51 GMT

Have I ever mentioned here that I love, love, love the thrill of writing an especially charming follow-up e-mail after a date?

After my first date with Kay, I sent her one whose subject line read, "Things I Can't Do Today," with the body simply listing, "Stop smiling, stop thinking about you, wait to see you again."

I think that was one of the best, but this morning's is pretty good too. Although I should note it's not exactly a follow-up e-mail, as we actually haven't seen each other in about a week because of her schoolwork/the holiday.

Today's e-mail reads,

Good morning, my little cold-blooded cupcake,

Woke up today with the sense memory of the searing heat of a certain part of you wrapped around my fingers. Will be distracted all day. Holding my breath until I see you again. Is the New Moon thing Friday or Saturday?

Thinking of you, fondly and flushed,
M.

...nngh. I kind of like this girl, you guys.

ETA: DOUBLE NNGH, AUGH, THREE THINGS: KITCHEN COUNTER. VIBRATOR. WHILE BAKING. DIRECT RESULT OF ABOVE E-MAIL. NNNNNNNNGH.

once I dreamt it flew into the Earth and killed everyone.

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 05:39:28 GMT

Ugh, Lora's cousin used the tr***y word tonight... not in reference to me, but in my proximity.

I spoke up right away and said that it's a nasty word, and Lora's mom had my back or whatever, I guess, and she leaned over to Lora's cousin and told her, "We don't use that word here," but the thing that is bothering the shit out of me now is that her cousin actually had to ask why before she understood it was a derogatory thing to say.

Dude, it's not a pretty word. I think that's obvious, or at least I'd like to live in a world where it is. But when a trans person specifically points out that they personally think it's nasty? You stop. You just stop. There are plenty of reasons why, but you shouldn't have to ask for one before you agree to do it.

recourse for the course I am taking.

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 12:38:43 GMT

Something else I am grateful for this morning: I'm still overdrawn and still won't have nearly enough money when I get paid on Friday, but oh my god I'm actually $200 less overdrawn this week than I was at this time two weeks ago, which means as long as nothing stupid comes up maybe I will actually be out of this hole soon! That would be so awesome.

Also awesome: Emily Prentiss might not be straight. Ha. Well, we all knew that. But now it's not just us. ;)

someday you'll be happier on air than you were on land.

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 02:29:47 GMT

So, I think my computer might have died on me tonight.

This kind of sucks. And don't get me wrong, I'm upset by its death, especially when I think about my financial situation and the other things I don't have at the moment, like a car or a phone of my own.

But things I do have tonight include the warm words of Ivan E. Coyote's The Slow Fix (courtesy of leiascully and the U.S.P.S.); a couch to read them on; a pair of Lora's sweatpants and that old t-shirt of Zach's I still wear sometimes, both of which I am indeed wearing tonight (funny how borrowing other people's things gives me shame when it's out of necessity, but borrowing other people's clothes only makes me feel loved); the blanket my father gave me for my 19th birthday which I just realized the other day is one of the few things I've actually bothered to bring with me in all my moves over the last couple of years; Hop Along's first album Freshman Year playing at the perfect volume through headphones I borrowed from work; and a cat who fucking loves to be in the way, so long as in the way means in my lap...

...so, you know, it's not all bad.

elizabeth powell.

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 04:11:23 GMT

The new Land of Talk EP came in the mail today. I'd forgotten it was on its way, so that was a pleasant surprise, to put it mildly. I don't want to call it a distraction, because that's not quite right, but there is something about the sound of her voice that makes me love myself more no matter what else is on my mind, and that's something I needed this afternoon.

Someone called her voice "amorous and charming" in a review I read today, and it is both of those things, but there's something else to it that I've always had a hard time trying to articulate. It hurts. It's beautiful, and it hurts. I don't know if that's any more comprehensive, but I feel like it's closer to the truth for me.

Three of the four songs are battling for my favorite, so here are two of them: May You Never and A Series of Small Flames

"She describes [her band] Land of Talk as a destructive Stevie Nicks/Blonde Redhead mutant, Will Oldham meets Sonic Youth, and as a PJ Harvey-meets-Crazy Horse type creature." (from here)

...this, this this this this this, is why I am in love with this woman, JFC. Time to turn out the lights and let myself become nothing more than the sum of Jezebel purring on my chest and the low, pretty thrum of the sound slowly making its way down my body.

our love and our guts.

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 15:36:04 GMT

I ended up at Kay's instead of the concert last night, intending just to stop by for a few minutes to give her music, but somehow that turned into sticking around until midnight, at which point I dragged myself home so Lora and I could drive to Sturbridge for the weekend.

I'll have more to say about that later, because whatever this is is precious, and everyone always laughs at me when I use that word, but for me there isn't another word for that conveys the same quiet, dazzled wonder that I'm referring to, and goddamnit I'm going to reclaim the word if it kills me.

Anyway. I listened to the songs I gave her in the car on our way here last night, and I'm struck rather deeply by just how much of myself I managed to put into them, in regards to how I feel about myself, my transition, my family, relationships in general, and this relationship in particular. It doesn't seem possible that my presence in them is not completely obvious, but then, of course it seems obvious to me, so I wonder if anyone else can hear it or if it is just me. Hmm.

you are a circus clown, I've never laughed before

1. The Letter - PJ Harvey
2. Lovers of the World - Julie Doiron
3. Tailor - Julie Doiron
4. Whatever You Like (T.I. cover) - Anya Marina
5. Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander - Over the Rhine
6. My Wild Child - Cowboy Junkies
7. Reckoner Lockdown (Kanye West v. Radiohead) - DJ Earworm
8. Werewolf - CocoRosie
9. Oh Sombra! - Electrelane
10. Going Nowhere - Mira
11. Turn Me On - Ida
12. Traffic - Bitch & Animal
13. The Stranger - Melissa Ferrick
14. Therapy - Jenny Jenkins
15. Birdwatchers - Jenny Jenkins
16. Free Money - Patti Smith
17. Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine
18. Your Wrists - Julie Sokolow
19. Parentheses - The Blow
20. Twilight - Dawn Landes