luxemburger

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.)

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.

( Swimming through my brain. )

Ahhhhh, butterflies.

Okay, now I can feel the excitement.

( A fragment from yesterday. )

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.

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

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;

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 this is why older women love me. )

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.

Annie and Laura got to experience adorably drunk Lora the other night, which is an incredibly rare occurrence, but one of my favorite things in the world.

Somehow this ended up with me busting out the few baby pictures I have saved of her on my computer, which led to the re-discovery of a certain pre-transition picture of me (NSFW) which had been saved in the same folder.

(If that sounds odd, it's because I have all the pictures Lora sent me in the first couple of weeks we were dating and all of the pictures that I sent her in the same time period saved in the same place.)

And, anyway, Lora looked over my shoulder and semi-shuddered and said, "That's fucking weird." And then I turned the computer towards Annie, and she looked at the picture, looked at me, looked back at the picture, took a breath and then said, "Marshall... that's... weird..." And then I turned the computer further so that Laura could see, and guess what she had to say?

Yep. That's weird.

( So I've spent a lot of time thinking about the girl I was pre-transitioning in the last couple of days, particularly in regards to our bodies, and it's been sort of strange. )

I am kind of in love with the receptionist at the endocrinologist's office, as she called me Marshall even though it wasn't on any of my paperwork, which means I think she remembered it from our phone conversations. Or she made a note for herself, or whatever. In any case, I am pretty sure she thought I was cute, and I am kind of in love with her.

I am less in love with the endocrinologist herself, who used incorrect pronouns at least once and said something weird about the medical treatment of trans youth, but in general she was pretty cool too, I guess, and I know other trans guys who see her so I feel like maybe I just caught her on a strange day.

Now to get the blood work done!

Well, not now now. Now now is time to get ready for midnight meteor shower second dates. Which probably won't end up involving meteor showers, but I am perfectly okay with that.

Am totally holding my breath for the next four hours, or until my appointment is over, whichever comes first. T's so close I can taste it, and I just want to know now if anything's going to get in the way, so I can prepare myself for that.

(The only thing I can think of is that my therapist has been making me anxious about whether or not my insurance will cover the blood work. I am inclined to think they will, because everything I've done since getting this insurance has led me to believe it's effing incredible as far as American insurance policies go, but she thinks it could easily be as much as $700 out of pocket before the endocrinologist can write me the prescription... which, obviously, would suck.)

Other than that, I'm just excited. I have been playing this game with myself where I try to guess how long it will take before I have my first injection. The good news is that however long it takes, I win - though current guess is hovering hopefully around three weeks from now.

Did I mention anywhere here that Land of Talk is playing at the Iron Horse on Friday? I am assuming there's no way it will be as, uh, eventful as the last show I saw there, but I am already swooning in anticipation. I haven't seen them play in two and a half years! Since before I left Illinois! Lizzie Powell, right here in my place of residence. How sweet is that?

So I don't know why I never seem to remember this, but I am totally an intimidating person to be in a pseudo-fight with. Not that Erica and I are fighting, but whatever weird thing is going on, I am totally the intimidating one. Weird.

Something that is also interesting - singing Liz Phair's Fuck and Run causes me to drop into my chest voice. How fucking strange. I normally can't get to it, but I start with those first few lines ("I woke up alarmed / I didn't know where I was at first / just that I woke up in your arms") and my voice immediately drops so low I can feel my chest vibrating like one of those gigantic speakers you try to avoid at school dances, and feeling it makes me wish I could lay my head on my own chest and tell myself a bedtime story.

Who wants to hear a bedtime story? This guy's doing the talking, so answer accordingly, or whatever.

Overslept for work yesterday because I forgot to set an alarm Friday night. How awesome is that? But what's worse? Being 20 minutes late or the fact that I was awake by quarter to seven on a Saturday even without an alarm?

Trekked out to Sturbridge with Laura, Annie and Liz last night for Lora's Lia Sophia party at her parents' house. (I would say we trekked out with Lora too, except she left hours ahead of us in order to do laundry beforehand.) I don't know what it is, but did I mention how weird I've felt socially recently? There were a couple of moments last night where jokes were made just out of my earshot, and I am semi-convinced that I was the punchline, although I can't decide if a) that is perceptive of me or just paranoid or b) if it's perceptive, in what sort of spirit the jokes are being made.

I am probably just being paranoid. But I'll tell you what I'm not being paranoid about: Erica and I have not made eye contact in about two weeks, and we will both be at Annie's this afternoon for our circle of friends' Thanksgiving feast. Annie's house is small. Also, I think our friends like her better than they like me. (Okay, maybe that is being paranoid.) But the not making eye contact thing is totally real, because she's been telling other people about it and nobody's saying a word to me, and I do feel like our friends are more inclined to be irritated with me over whatever amount of awkwardness that creates, simply because this is the sort of thing she does with people sometimes and I should be better than I'm being but I'm not.

Also, I got paid on Friday and I am already overdrafted. Isn't that fantastic?

I swear I'm in a better mood than it appears. I have been sleeping in a naked fashion to the sound of this website for the past week or so, and I woke up thinking about thighs under my tongue and proceeded to get off (slowly, and a few times) before I even got up and got a drink of water.

Then I wandered over to the bookshelf and grabbed Written on the Body and have been back in bed, still without clothes, reading that ever since. I have no idea how many times I've read this book, but it's been a while since the last time I did.

I've always loved this part:

"A precise emotion seeks a precise expression. If what I feel is not precise then should I call it love? It is so terrifying, love, that all I can do is shove it under a dump bin of pink cuddly toys and send myself a greetings card saying 'Congratulations on your Engagement'. But I am not engaged I am deeply distracted."

I guess what I am saying is that I am in one of those places where I like art so much better than I like 99% of people, except I like art best when it is shared, so that leaves me with an aggressive sort of existential itch that I've still never figured out the best way to scratch.

That being said, the choreography and the outfits in the last fifty seconds of this video fill me with such unbridled glee and desire, it is kind of ridiculous. But I fucking love whatever her brand of art is supposed to be, so that is not really surprising to me at all.

Also, a couple of final notes for the day: Lora took both my binders with her yesterday. To wash them, obviously. But so I had to bind with a small handful of layered sports bras instead, and holy fuck does that suck. (It's painful.) I also haven't had a cigarette in about a week, and I don't want to talk about that too much in case I psych myself out, but that's been pretty awesome, which is something I do mean sincerely, although it has taken away one of my coping mechanisms, which is probably part of the reason I'm so down on my friends lately. It's hard to (try and) smoke away irritation when you're not smoking. Heh.

I keep looking at these pictures, taken tonight, and wondering if anybody else can fully understand what it feels when I look in the mirror and that beautiful, queer boy is what I see now.

I wish I could explain what it feels like to transition. It feels like a long drive home to me. It's being curled up in the passenger seat while somebody else drives, warmth that starts in my belly and slowly makes its way into my chest, knowing we're almost there and that the person driving's going to make sure I get there safely. It's having been on a good trip, but knowing that my bed's waiting at home, and that it's even warmer than this car, and being perfectly happy where I am for the moment, but being excited about getting to climb into that bed soon.

This is a beautiful precipice. This is my deep breath before I swandive over its edge.

I'm sleepy. I'm making sleepy metaphors. I'm sorry. It's just a nice feeling, that's all. I want to savor these days, make sure I'm properly appreciating my history, properly appreciating these early days of a journey that will never have a firm ending. I feel time slowing down as I approach the end of my estrogen-saturated days, and I can see it speeding up again on the horizon, and I wish I could make it move even slower so I could soak in as many details from as many moments as possible.

One of the things I do sort of regret about being single for most of this time, although I don't regret it in general, is that there hasn't been anyone to savor all of these changes as closely as I have. It would be nice to be able to take someone's hand and say, "Touch me here, do you feel that? That's not how it felt last week, that's not how it felt yesterday." To be able to see all the more clearly, from having not only my own perspective, but somebody else's reflected back at me at such close range. "Stand still. You know other people have always been my favorite kind of mirror." "Close your eyes. I'm going to show you everything."

Appointment with GP to get referral to the endocrinologist: done.

Last (required) appointment with therapist to get recommendation letter for endocrinologist to prescribe testosterone: tomorrow. Thursday.

Initial appointment with endocrinologist: Friday!? Next Monday (the 16th).

I AM BACK FROM THE COURTHOUSE.

I AM FEELING APPROXIMATELY ( THIS HAPPY. )

...and, guh, approximately this much like having super hot, super dirty sex to work off the adrenaline. Which is actually more the point of this post than the happiness bit, because on my way home from Greenfield I had this really involved fantasy that I've, uh, had before, but I realized that I've never, ever told anyone ever about this particular ~*~thing~*~ I've got.

So, um. If I were to write some sort of piece about this fantasy, or about other fantasies in the future, would anyone be interested in reading it?

Poll #1478590 just out of, uh, curiosity.
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 14

Would you be interested in reading such things?

I won a free hour off of work this week via a departmental trivia contest, so guess what I am going to do with that?

Go to the courthouse!? Today!?

Lora and I went to a friend's sister's "slumber party" last night, which was hilariously awkward for me as we were in a room full of UMass sorority girls talking about sex and about guys and nobody except the small handful of people I already knew recognized that there was, you know, a guy in the room (a.k.a. me) and nobody, even the small handful of people we already knew, recognized how awkward all the compulsive heteronormativity in all the sales pitches were for both me and Lora. (Or at least me, because Lora didn't seem to mind too much. But I imagine it was weird for her too.)

There were a couple of moments where I almost blurted out that I was there. Or almost muttered, "And gentleman..." whenever anyone addressed the room with a blanket 'ladies'. But then I was worried some of the girls might get upset because they were talking about things it didn't sound like they normally talk about in front of guys, and maybe they'd have felt betrayed by my unintentionally covert presence or whatever.

Which is weird on so many levels, but one of the ones I find most baffling: why don't they talk about these things with the guys they date? I don't get it at all. Maybe I am just spoiled by (the seemingly generally followed standard of) open communication in queer relationships.

So I didn't say anything after all. It was so very bizarre of an experience... and it's especially weird because times like this show me just how much weirdness goes unnoticed by even people who are in the know. Like, my friend Sarah is a sweetheart, but even she continues to say 'ladies' all the time in addressing groups that include me, and it'd be one thing if it was something she said regardless of the gender-count of the group or if it were said in some sort of tongue-in-cheek manner or if she (or whoever else) realized the inaccuracy (when taking the word literally) and added something afterward like, "Oh, and Marshall too"... except that's generally not what happens.

Geeky language tangent: I think it'd actually be super awesome if mixed-gender groups were routinely referred to as "ladies" because blah blah blah subverting systematic male privileging. But it's when I know that that's not the case, when I know that somebody wouldn't be saying "ladies" if any guy other than me were standing there, that's when hearing "ladies" makes me sort of uncomfortable.

And when I say sort of uncomfortable, I mostly mean 1) that it makes me realize a) what a huge, huge shift in thinking it is to transition and b) how impossible it is for anyone who hasn't been here to catch every instance of something that's shifted and 2) that it makes me kind of sad that most people are going to stop paying close enough attention to catch more of those instances once I get to a certain point or once they get to a certain point in their understanding. Because, like. Things are so fucking weird. And so much weirdness just kind of slips under the radar, and I love that I'm seeing all of this now. It makes me wish everyone went through something where they paid this much attention to something as "simple" as how the world treats something as common and taken for granted as gender (and how the language we use supports that treatment), and augh. It's such a bizarre and rewarding thing to pay attention to.

( Speaking of bizarre, I had this dream last night that I joined a competitive dance coalition in Northampton. )

Anyway. After the dream I woke up feeling warm and loose in a way I don't feel like I've felt in a while and the feeling's stayed with me so far. Mmm. If that continues, today's going to be a good day.

Also, my birth certificate came today. I would be more excited, but. I've been irritable all day. So. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Also also, an offhanded comment from Annie reminded me of how much the general public thinks certain things I'm into are really kinky. I really don't think they're that kinky. Not superly so, anyway. But man. I wish I had a (gender goes here)friend so we could do those things, regardless of how kinky they may or may not be.

STRANGERS THINK I'M A DUDE NOW.

...AT FIRST GLANCE, ANYWAY.

THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL AND WEIRD.

1. A guy started to call me "ma'am" when I stopped to get a soda on my way to therapy. But then he caught himself and just trailed off awkwardly instead.
2. One very blunt individual took one look at me and asked, "Are you male or female?" (For the record, I think this individual's a jackass. But the deeper implication behind the question even being asked pleases me.)
3. I got pulled over doing 20 mph over the speed limit around the same time all the Amherst bars were closing (because I'm an idiot and I was spacing out driving through campus) and the cop called me "sir" (and let me go with a warning). (!!!)

..."passing" is such a weird thing. I have no idea what it is that's suddenly allowing me to be read (more or less) correctly by people who don't otherwise know me, but I'd sure be curious to find out.