Hm, only a week since my last post. Not bad considering I am recovering from what I can only describe as a nervous breakdown. In a way I am glad I still live with my parents. I can freak out in my room an no one has to be the wiser. No employer to get on my case for missing work or anything like that.
I'll just cover a few things buzzing around in my head at the moment. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things and keep bringing more than one post a week.
Hair hair hair. I love my hair. I've said that before right? I know I have. I'll spare the whole speech and say my hair is cut short at the moment. Horror of horrors. I remember once I nearly lost it when I found out a stylist cut it short(this was years ago) despite my instructions. Now.. it doesn't bother me so much. I collect pictures. I am a picture pack rat. At LEAST 50% of the data on my hard drive is jpeg. I do it because I am an artist. I save anything that strikes me in a certain way.. or a hairstyle I like.. or an outfit.
After a while.. I started seeing all these neat pictures of women with short hair. They looked good with it. They looked sexy. It slowly separated me from my long hair obsession. I thought about cutting it.. but getting as long as I had it took a while(even with as fast as my hair grows). I also still liked it that way.
Well, seems odd little opportunities just drop in my lap constantly. It's weird. Do I have this odd aura of luck that presents opportunities just after I consider something? My grandmother wanted me to donate my hair to cancer patients.. you know.. for wigs. I had great hair, and it would really help some people out that lost their hair to kemo. I considered it.. and.. why the hell not?
I got it shaped up after the hair was collected. Long in front.. very short in back. A style I had seen that I liked. I'm not sure if I like it or not. I'm torn(and with how fast my hair grows it's time to decide if I want to grow it out again). On the one hand it seems to emphasize the fact I look horribly young and adorable. On the other hand.. I do look good with this style. I wouldn't mind looking a bit more mature. I guess it is a grass is always greener thing. Like perhaps it wouldn't have been quite so bad to wait a bit longer to transition. Then again, it seems more like my genetics than when I transitioned. Either way, I hope whoever has my hair is happy and cancer free.
What if I was born a girl. How different would I be as a person? It's not something I can deny.. or anyone in my position can rightly deny. I'm a different woman than I would have been had I the privilege of being treated as a girl my whole life. What kind of girl would I be?
It's hard to say. I can see some possible paths that are quite likely based on real events in my life. I got involved in gymnastics fairly heavily for a time. I never really did anything except as something fun in my spare time. My parents could tell I needed some sort of outlet. A certain program fell into our laps. Gymnastics! They asked rather hesitantly if I wanted to try. They must have been surprised when I responded so enthusiastically. I liked it. I did. I stopped going to the professional gym at some point.. but I still keep in shape and limber. I could see myself diving head first if aloud to freely pick any path I desired. Miss Kitty.. gold medalist! Ok.. so not that.. but I could see myself trying to compete on a small level if my parents were willing to pay.
Though, perhaps more likely, is Miss Kitty the tomboyish geeky type. It seems like such an utterly odd twist of fate, doesn't it? A complete 180. Not a rejection of femininity, mind you. Just settling in where I'd be comfortable. Nothing filling my head over what I should or shouldn't be doing. My secret shame.. I am a huge dork. Not just because I hang out on the internet. If you've ever ran into the geek hierarchy chart.. I fit into quite a few places on there. Also, much to my shame, I enjoyed DBZ as much as I did Sailor Moon. Both dragged me into the world of anime.. both kept me glued to the TV back in the day when I had no idea what anime was. Hell, I still enjoy watching DBZ(favorite part ever is when Gohan goes nuts over android 16's death). I have a box set of uncut dubbed sailor moon sitting behind me. I just wish they'd redub Sailor Moon and give it a non suck dub. Reading is fine, but I just want to sit back and enjoy. Then there is the fact I would still be doing martial arts. Then a number of other things I can thank to my specific experiences on either side of the boy girl line. I'm also a slob by nature(though nature can be overcome).
Strange how drastically different the same person can be when you change one little thing, huh? Just that spot between the legs. Change that and suddenly my life isn't recognizable. Ok, I'd still be a geek either way(a geek in the closet is still a geek!), but my attitude toward my gender and my role and what I want to be.. I can imagine myself being drastically different. Some things are only so important because I wasn't aloud to have them once upon a time.
Then again, maybe not so different. Maybe there is an off beat, brave, loud, and openly geeky slob of a girl in me waiting to get out? Maybe things haven't improved as much as I thought. Maybe I escaped one set of expectations only to let myself fall into another? I think I'm going to make a list as soon as this post is finished. What I truly enjoy. What I only enjoy because of my struggles. What I do because I am expected to.
It's time to stop just bitching about it and examine myself in full detail. It's time for another change. Time to redefine who I am. I know I am a girl, but what else? I can't make just one jump and expect everything to work out.
One final parting thought. There is no such thing as normal. Nobody in the world can claim to be normal. The world has some strange idea that there should be some baseline everyone matches, but no matter where this line falls.. no one is on it perfectly. Everybody has some weird quirk they have to live with. Everyone has some oddity. Everyone has a little bit of crazy. Everyone has something they have to deal with.
Never think you are alone. I know it can be hard.. even impossible to get yourself to realize it.. but you aren't alone. Even if it isn't exactly the same, everyone else is going through something similar. There are parts of themselves they can't or won't deal with. Things they wish they could change. Things they think are unnatural. Things society tells them is wrong. Things they are made to feel ashamed of. Things that are part of the human condition.
There is no normal. Only a foolish and undefined ideal that makes everyone feel bad about themselves. Trying to match it is foolish... and trust me on this one.. will only leave you exhausted in the pursuit. Change what you can. Realize it is pointless to worry about what you can't change. Decide if you are happy before trying to make anyone else happy.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
I'm Alright.. and Not
That is to say, I'm unhurt. I didn't do anything drastic. I've been feeling alright for the past week. I've just been relaxing and trying to sort through some things mentally. Examining my behavior.. my beliefs.. examining where my life is headed. What should I change about myself.
As usual I'm right back where I started.
Not to mention it's only a matter of time till I lose control again. No matter what I personally decide to do.. that won't change. There is no amount of willpower and chanting "I will change" that can stop that. I suppose I should explain the last post a bit. I didn't want to come right out and say it. I don't want to be one of the many people on the net self diagnosing mental illnesses and using it as an excuse to be a huge 'tard.
I've known I wasn't all there for a while now, but I don't know quite what was wrong. Doctors didn't either. The ever changing diagnoses dance got tiring so I stopped bothering. They couldn't give me anything that did help so what was the harm in saying I didn't need help anymore? Waste of money. I've been anxious about it since then though. What DO I have? I've read stuff.. medical sites.. that sort of thing. If I did come across something I could always go back and ask to be checked, right?
Well, there is an uncomfortably good chance I am bipolar. Till recently I've taken my mother's stance on the subject.
Mom> *Looking over her glasses at me.. and in the most deadly serious tone..* You are not bipolar.
It was silly, right? No way. Well, I traded stories with friends that are confirmed bipolar. Aside from the boy to girl thing.. our childhoods match up way to well. It's actually kind of creepy how similar the stories are. Practically word for word. It makes me.. uncomfortable. It isn't just the mood swings. There are other facets. I never considered myself paranoid.. or at least not delusional. Though comparing stories.. and looking back on my childhood..
Ugh. Not that I can do anything now. Money is tight. Doctors and medication are expensive as hell, and I don't want to look like a fool and say "hey I need to be checked for bipolar" and ends up I'm just being a hypochondriac.
Who am I kidding? Money IS tight, but that is just a convenient excuse. Truth is I'm scared. What if I go in and I'm right? It seems I am only right when I don't want to be right. It scares me more than I can admit.. even to myself. I try not to think about it.
So, what have I been doing all this time? Not much. Still searching for a job. Plenty of places hiring but none of them ever actually hire anyone. A gas station has had a sign out for months now. Walmart? I actually managed to get an interview once but never got a call back. I need money to continue college, dang it. Not even that. I need to get various doctor visits. Then I need to pay off my credit card(it's sort of the family work horse. We are in a situation where we can pay as much as we are spending.. with a little left over.. but not enough to pay off my parent's collected debts.. at least it's getting me one hell of a credit rating). Usually I just never get a call back. At least I have something new to put on my resume.. so that might help from here on out. Time to reapply everywhere.
Off the subject of jobs though.. if only to prevent myself from going into my usual "what is the value of going to college for an art degree? why don't I just skip the expense and get a day job like i'd have to anyway?" debate.
I did a TOTAL spazz thing. I got milk all over my PS2, and I hadn't finished God of War 1(hey.. I never got a PS2.. why not cash in on the massive library of games that are now going dirt cheap?) or even played some other games I had. I hit the glass.. and it went EVERYWHERE. I'm surprised my room doesn't smell like sour milk now. By the time I realized it was on the PS2.. it was too late to save it. The power button would go green when I pressed it.. then go red again immediately. Then I dropped it. Now something rattles inside it. I cried.
*Hangs head in shame*
Yeah. I'm a complete spazz. I don't know how I can be so graceful AND clumsy at the same time. I sneakily got another PS2. I have a 3k+ credit limit and wasn't using half.. plus plenty in my savings to cover another one. I told my mom.. AFTER I bought it. She agreed that I had too many new games to let go to waste, but the look of sheer HORROR on her face when I told her was classic. It was.. hilarious.. I almost laughed. Oh dear Lord I would pay to see that again. I think she thought it was more expensive than it was. She was relieved when I told her the price. A week's groceries. Still plenty of money, but it won't break the bank.
What else? I've been obsessing over the status of that little thing between my legs. As the result of my little episode I've been wondering if I am just fooling myself into believing I can live like this. I know some will find this offensive.. but I've been doubting my status as a girl because of it's presence. Like I used to a decade ago.. I go to bed hoping for some kind of miracle. I'll wake up and be a real girl. Pray.. despite every part of my mind saying it isn't rational to expect anything to come of it.
I had settled down. I was content to be a girl with a little something extra. It was no big deal. Then suddenly boom.. it wasn't alright. For no reason at all it was no longer alright. The trigger for the freak out had nothing to do with it, but I was suddenly wondering why I wasn't born the right way. Did I do something to deserve a punishment? Did God just hate me? Was I doing something wrong or evil in my life to deserve it? Hopefully anyone reading this now understands what I mean by my mind ripping itself apart. It was a self destructive thought process that was tearing me down from the inside out.
I still wonder if there is anything at all I can do. Is there any way I can change..? I know it's silly. I know it's stupid. No power on this earth can help me, and there is no miracle coming down(hard for me to even type that.. It's giving up all hope). Still, I won't be getting SRS. Having a penis, in and of itself, doesn't bother me. No no.. it's what I'm incapable of that gets me. No surgery.. nothing that can be done will give me what I want. Not what I really want. Yeah, having an actual vagina wouldn't be all it's cracked up to be(GG> What do you mean you WANT cramps?!), but I don't care. I want the whole experience.. even the not so fun parts. I'd suffer a lot to get it.
I wish the universe would just speak up and name its price. As irrational as it is.. I still can't give up hope that there is something out there that can help. I just don't know how to reach it. Sometimes it feels like that is the only reason I keep going.. that maybe.. one day.. the impossible won't be so impossible.
That's pretty much how my time since my last post has been. A flood of confusion and doubt when I had just become certain of my path in life.. only to feel like I've gone nowhere due to my inability to change what I feel is wrong.
Random thought: The episode of Camp Lazlo where they try to catch a snipe was on while I wrote the last part of this. I remember that gag in scouts. The more experienced scouts and leaders tried to play that trick on us. I caught on immediately(Too smart for my own good sometimes.. sometimes), but I decided to play along anyway. Those in on the gag were grateful I decided to keep my mouth shut.
*Point*
Look! There it is! A snipe!
*Contains laughter as friends rush to find it*
As usual I'm right back where I started.
Not to mention it's only a matter of time till I lose control again. No matter what I personally decide to do.. that won't change. There is no amount of willpower and chanting "I will change" that can stop that. I suppose I should explain the last post a bit. I didn't want to come right out and say it. I don't want to be one of the many people on the net self diagnosing mental illnesses and using it as an excuse to be a huge 'tard.
I've known I wasn't all there for a while now, but I don't know quite what was wrong. Doctors didn't either. The ever changing diagnoses dance got tiring so I stopped bothering. They couldn't give me anything that did help so what was the harm in saying I didn't need help anymore? Waste of money. I've been anxious about it since then though. What DO I have? I've read stuff.. medical sites.. that sort of thing. If I did come across something I could always go back and ask to be checked, right?
Well, there is an uncomfortably good chance I am bipolar. Till recently I've taken my mother's stance on the subject.
Mom> *Looking over her glasses at me.. and in the most deadly serious tone..* You are not bipolar.
It was silly, right? No way. Well, I traded stories with friends that are confirmed bipolar. Aside from the boy to girl thing.. our childhoods match up way to well. It's actually kind of creepy how similar the stories are. Practically word for word. It makes me.. uncomfortable. It isn't just the mood swings. There are other facets. I never considered myself paranoid.. or at least not delusional. Though comparing stories.. and looking back on my childhood..
Ugh. Not that I can do anything now. Money is tight. Doctors and medication are expensive as hell, and I don't want to look like a fool and say "hey I need to be checked for bipolar" and ends up I'm just being a hypochondriac.
Who am I kidding? Money IS tight, but that is just a convenient excuse. Truth is I'm scared. What if I go in and I'm right? It seems I am only right when I don't want to be right. It scares me more than I can admit.. even to myself. I try not to think about it.
So, what have I been doing all this time? Not much. Still searching for a job. Plenty of places hiring but none of them ever actually hire anyone. A gas station has had a sign out for months now. Walmart? I actually managed to get an interview once but never got a call back. I need money to continue college, dang it. Not even that. I need to get various doctor visits. Then I need to pay off my credit card(it's sort of the family work horse. We are in a situation where we can pay as much as we are spending.. with a little left over.. but not enough to pay off my parent's collected debts.. at least it's getting me one hell of a credit rating). Usually I just never get a call back. At least I have something new to put on my resume.. so that might help from here on out. Time to reapply everywhere.
Off the subject of jobs though.. if only to prevent myself from going into my usual "what is the value of going to college for an art degree? why don't I just skip the expense and get a day job like i'd have to anyway?" debate.
I did a TOTAL spazz thing. I got milk all over my PS2, and I hadn't finished God of War 1(hey.. I never got a PS2.. why not cash in on the massive library of games that are now going dirt cheap?) or even played some other games I had. I hit the glass.. and it went EVERYWHERE. I'm surprised my room doesn't smell like sour milk now. By the time I realized it was on the PS2.. it was too late to save it. The power button would go green when I pressed it.. then go red again immediately. Then I dropped it. Now something rattles inside it. I cried.
*Hangs head in shame*
Yeah. I'm a complete spazz. I don't know how I can be so graceful AND clumsy at the same time. I sneakily got another PS2. I have a 3k+ credit limit and wasn't using half.. plus plenty in my savings to cover another one. I told my mom.. AFTER I bought it. She agreed that I had too many new games to let go to waste, but the look of sheer HORROR on her face when I told her was classic. It was.. hilarious.. I almost laughed. Oh dear Lord I would pay to see that again. I think she thought it was more expensive than it was. She was relieved when I told her the price. A week's groceries. Still plenty of money, but it won't break the bank.
What else? I've been obsessing over the status of that little thing between my legs. As the result of my little episode I've been wondering if I am just fooling myself into believing I can live like this. I know some will find this offensive.. but I've been doubting my status as a girl because of it's presence. Like I used to a decade ago.. I go to bed hoping for some kind of miracle. I'll wake up and be a real girl. Pray.. despite every part of my mind saying it isn't rational to expect anything to come of it.
I had settled down. I was content to be a girl with a little something extra. It was no big deal. Then suddenly boom.. it wasn't alright. For no reason at all it was no longer alright. The trigger for the freak out had nothing to do with it, but I was suddenly wondering why I wasn't born the right way. Did I do something to deserve a punishment? Did God just hate me? Was I doing something wrong or evil in my life to deserve it? Hopefully anyone reading this now understands what I mean by my mind ripping itself apart. It was a self destructive thought process that was tearing me down from the inside out.
I still wonder if there is anything at all I can do. Is there any way I can change..? I know it's silly. I know it's stupid. No power on this earth can help me, and there is no miracle coming down(hard for me to even type that.. It's giving up all hope). Still, I won't be getting SRS. Having a penis, in and of itself, doesn't bother me. No no.. it's what I'm incapable of that gets me. No surgery.. nothing that can be done will give me what I want. Not what I really want. Yeah, having an actual vagina wouldn't be all it's cracked up to be(GG> What do you mean you WANT cramps?!), but I don't care. I want the whole experience.. even the not so fun parts. I'd suffer a lot to get it.
I wish the universe would just speak up and name its price. As irrational as it is.. I still can't give up hope that there is something out there that can help. I just don't know how to reach it. Sometimes it feels like that is the only reason I keep going.. that maybe.. one day.. the impossible won't be so impossible.
That's pretty much how my time since my last post has been. A flood of confusion and doubt when I had just become certain of my path in life.. only to feel like I've gone nowhere due to my inability to change what I feel is wrong.
Random thought: The episode of Camp Lazlo where they try to catch a snipe was on while I wrote the last part of this. I remember that gag in scouts. The more experienced scouts and leaders tried to play that trick on us. I caught on immediately(Too smart for my own good sometimes.. sometimes), but I decided to play along anyway. Those in on the gag were grateful I decided to keep my mouth shut.
*Point*
Look! There it is! A snipe!
*Contains laughter as friends rush to find it*
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Losing My Grip
It's getting worse.
No, that isn't right. The freak outs and breakdowns aren't getting worse. I'm losing my ability to deal with it. I'm already over the cliff's edge. I'm hanging on by my finger tips, and my fingers are worn out. I look down.. and can't seem to see the bottom.
It's wearing me out. The ups and downs. Even the ultra happy highs are wearing on me because the rush of uncontrollable energy will inevitably leave me wasted just in time to do something constructive. Then there is the fact that the ultra highs come with the ultra lows. The bizarre freak outs and breakdowns. When they actually come, there is nothing I can do. It has to run it's course. Nothing anyone has done has ever changed this. That is just the way my life is. Either irritatingly happy and full of energy.. nothing able to keep me down.. or an inconsolable wreck of a human being.
This time it was bad. After a brief flash of blinding anger.. I lost it. With nothing to take out my rage on I broke down. My mind tore itself apart as I paced about. Then I was an unmoving heap on the floor.
I don't know. I don't know. This was my chant. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. What I should do. What I should think.
Logically.. I knew I could move.. but I was unable to summon the willpower to do more than twitch a little. I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but I eventually lifted myself into bed(luckily I "chose" to shut down right there) and curled in a ball. I cleared my head and batted away any thought before it was finished forming.. trying to save myself from my own mind.
Nothing.. nothing.. just think about nothing. That is how I saved myself. I imagine myself in a little bubble all curled up. Nothing in it but me. Just me. Nothing else. No thought. No sound. Just me.
It's the first time I took such strange steps to keep myself under control. I've had episodes before, but that was the first time I ever felt like my mind was just.. unraveling. I think the roller coaster has just worn me out. What I wouldn't give to be calm. Not happy.. not sad.. just calm. Mellow. Not a zombie, mind you. Just.. calm.
Just a normal calm girl. What wouldn't I give? Nothing. I'd do damn near anything for it.
No, that isn't right. The freak outs and breakdowns aren't getting worse. I'm losing my ability to deal with it. I'm already over the cliff's edge. I'm hanging on by my finger tips, and my fingers are worn out. I look down.. and can't seem to see the bottom.
It's wearing me out. The ups and downs. Even the ultra happy highs are wearing on me because the rush of uncontrollable energy will inevitably leave me wasted just in time to do something constructive. Then there is the fact that the ultra highs come with the ultra lows. The bizarre freak outs and breakdowns. When they actually come, there is nothing I can do. It has to run it's course. Nothing anyone has done has ever changed this. That is just the way my life is. Either irritatingly happy and full of energy.. nothing able to keep me down.. or an inconsolable wreck of a human being.
This time it was bad. After a brief flash of blinding anger.. I lost it. With nothing to take out my rage on I broke down. My mind tore itself apart as I paced about. Then I was an unmoving heap on the floor.
I don't know. I don't know. This was my chant. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. What I should do. What I should think.
Logically.. I knew I could move.. but I was unable to summon the willpower to do more than twitch a little. I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but I eventually lifted myself into bed(luckily I "chose" to shut down right there) and curled in a ball. I cleared my head and batted away any thought before it was finished forming.. trying to save myself from my own mind.
Nothing.. nothing.. just think about nothing. That is how I saved myself. I imagine myself in a little bubble all curled up. Nothing in it but me. Just me. Nothing else. No thought. No sound. Just me.
It's the first time I took such strange steps to keep myself under control. I've had episodes before, but that was the first time I ever felt like my mind was just.. unraveling. I think the roller coaster has just worn me out. What I wouldn't give to be calm. Not happy.. not sad.. just calm. Mellow. Not a zombie, mind you. Just.. calm.
Just a normal calm girl. What wouldn't I give? Nothing. I'd do damn near anything for it.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Fashion Sense.. or lack thereof.
I have a bit of a confession to make..
Despite how utterly awesome I may appear to be, I am not hip. I am not with it. I'm not a cool cat. I'm not the paragon of.. uh..
Damn, I ran out of phrases.
I know! Seems impossible right? I am utterly perfect in every way.. how can it be true? Calm down, loyal subjects, for I will tell you what is going on. As you should all know by now, I started to transition in middle school. We've also established I wasn't aloud to just show up as a girl one day. That was asking for trouble. I (unhappily) agreed with my mother on that point.
I guess you could say I just got used to it. Initially, my choice in clothing was influenced by pure necessity. At first it was no big deal. Aside from wearing anything that screamed, "only girls wear this!" I was OK. In what seemed like no time at all, I was having to be careful about what I wore. I couldn't wear this shirt or that shirt unless I wanted to be known as the boy with breasts(and the figure to match). Loose tops.. or tops too big for me. Pants and shorts were less of an issue.. at least in what I could get away with wearing. I had to be more careful about what I bought to make sure I got something that would go over my fat butt. So tops that didn't fit and pants that did.
Probably.. yeah.. probably a bit of an 80s look going on.
I got used to it. By the time I could go full on I ended up not changing it. I added more items I wasn't aloud(skirts, hose, so on), but I stuck to the overall look. I developed a fondness for it. I used to want so badly to dress in the typical outfits for girls my age. By the time I was aloud I didn't think of switching. Sure I changed it up now and then, but I liked the look I had accidentally developed.
THE SHAME.
Though I hear the 80's look is coming back...
Though perhaps my efforts were for naught. It was pretty damn obvious by the end of middle school. My face, in particular, probably gave me away all too easily. Aside from normal effects of hormones, I have naturally full lips. My cheeks are pretty muscular.. making them fuller(I found out I wasn't normal in that regard when a dentist remarked how hard it was to work on me because of my cheek muscle). Overall I have a young face. I got comments on it plenty of times. Also..
"..Are you a girl..?"
That got asked plenty before I was done with middle school. The first time this got asked I stared at the person for a long moment(I must have looked absolutely startled).. then answered, "What do you think?" People around me would confirm my boy name and friends would confirm the identity.
Though perhaps it wasn't pointless. At least that way there was enough confusion over what was going on for me to be left unmolested.
At least I can pull the look off. I'm damn cute..
Despite how utterly awesome I may appear to be, I am not hip. I am not with it. I'm not a cool cat. I'm not the paragon of.. uh..
Damn, I ran out of phrases.
I know! Seems impossible right? I am utterly perfect in every way.. how can it be true? Calm down, loyal subjects, for I will tell you what is going on. As you should all know by now, I started to transition in middle school. We've also established I wasn't aloud to just show up as a girl one day. That was asking for trouble. I (unhappily) agreed with my mother on that point.
I guess you could say I just got used to it. Initially, my choice in clothing was influenced by pure necessity. At first it was no big deal. Aside from wearing anything that screamed, "only girls wear this!" I was OK. In what seemed like no time at all, I was having to be careful about what I wore. I couldn't wear this shirt or that shirt unless I wanted to be known as the boy with breasts(and the figure to match). Loose tops.. or tops too big for me. Pants and shorts were less of an issue.. at least in what I could get away with wearing. I had to be more careful about what I bought to make sure I got something that would go over my fat butt. So tops that didn't fit and pants that did.
Probably.. yeah.. probably a bit of an 80s look going on.
I got used to it. By the time I could go full on I ended up not changing it. I added more items I wasn't aloud(skirts, hose, so on), but I stuck to the overall look. I developed a fondness for it. I used to want so badly to dress in the typical outfits for girls my age. By the time I was aloud I didn't think of switching. Sure I changed it up now and then, but I liked the look I had accidentally developed.
THE SHAME.
Though I hear the 80's look is coming back...
Though perhaps my efforts were for naught. It was pretty damn obvious by the end of middle school. My face, in particular, probably gave me away all too easily. Aside from normal effects of hormones, I have naturally full lips. My cheeks are pretty muscular.. making them fuller(I found out I wasn't normal in that regard when a dentist remarked how hard it was to work on me because of my cheek muscle). Overall I have a young face. I got comments on it plenty of times. Also..
"..Are you a girl..?"
That got asked plenty before I was done with middle school. The first time this got asked I stared at the person for a long moment(I must have looked absolutely startled).. then answered, "What do you think?" People around me would confirm my boy name and friends would confirm the identity.
Though perhaps it wasn't pointless. At least that way there was enough confusion over what was going on for me to be left unmolested.
At least I can pull the look off. I'm damn cute..
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
New Scouts For A New Age
I was in boys scouts since the 1st grade. If I recall correctly, you are called a Tiger Scout then. Only a wee cub scout. It was a good source of companionship for me. I think that is the only reason my mother kept me in it for as long as she did. It was fun at first.. but it turned creepy new age after a while. Not to mention a bunch of administrative BS sucked out all the life from it.
It was useful while it lasted though. Some of my only friends came from there. As scouts we were all on the same team. None of the typical childhood crap where kids single people out for random stupid things. If I had to do it all again.. I would enroll in scouts again for this simple fact. All things said and done, I had friends if nothing else. It was a necessary lifeline.. even if I never did learn anything useful(seriously.. the whole thing is a bit of a joke).
Things became particularly difficult when I started to transition. At first I didn't say anything. I knew it wouldn't be a wise idea sooner or later, and I didn't particularly like scouts. None of the activities appealed to me. At the time, scouts was nothing more than an annoyance I had to put up with from time to time. Something I was forced to waste my valuable free time on. As much as I disliked playing baseball.. I would have preferred to start doing that again than be in scouts.
What would I rather have done? Martial arts lessons. I wanted to do that for as long as I could remember, but the answer was always no. I'd have loved to start gymnastics again. I liked it a lot, and I was SO jealous of the leotards of the girls. I wanted so badly to wear one during classes. I was even good at gymnastics.
The last trip was absolutely awful. Camping.. for the better part of a week. It was near the end of my time in middle school. By then I was developing noticeably. A uniform too big for me took care of most of it, but you could still tell(especially since I hadn't grown into a big strapping lad like everyone else..). The ultimate test for passing is being able to go out in a sack and still passing. Blessing and a curse at that point in my life. Not like I had a choice. For some reason my mother wouldn't take me out of scouts.
Bad. Any kid not in my troop treated me like shit. The scout leaders.. anyone in a position of authority.. and kids not in my troop. This is very bad because... who do you turn to? No one in charge did anything to stop shit from happening. Worse. I got pushed relentlessly. No pity. If I fell behind? I got left behind(the only person this happened for..). The only thing that made this bearable was this one really cool guy there. Very tall, and he would sometimes stop and wait for me to catch up. He'd chat for a bit.. then speed on ahead. He was the most physically capable of anyone there, but he didn't care about staying ahead or impressing anyone. He was the only one I didn't already know that was nice to me. He was cute too.
*Dreamy sigh*
..Uh.. anyway.. Worst. Showers each night were.. open. There were stalls, but no doors. You had to take a shower. No choice. Everyone showered at the same time. I got around this by going to the bathroom with my stuff.. then hiding in the woods for a long time. Lots of deodorant. I didn't get caught either.. thank goodness. That would have been a disaster of epic proportions. I thought about huddling as far in the stall as I could and never facing the other way even a moment.. but. that idea was cast out the moment I stared at the array of weenies. I got out of there FAST.
I didn't have a single fun moment. There was even a ceremony for those going to the next level. Guess what? An "administrative error" that my leader outright refused to correct lead to me being a badge short of it. I got to sit in the dirt next to the bleachers the audience(parents) were in.
Goody goody gumdrops!
It was freezing that night too, but I am kind of glad I wasn't in it. The ceremony was.. utterly creepy and new age. The experiences on this trip were the last straw. Only one person in my whole group of friends continued scouts. Apparently we had all been treated like garbage. We didn't stay the whole time even. We left half way through. Everyone agreed.. NEVER AGAIN.
Honestly, I think they picked it up.. even if they didn't fully understand what was going on. I had overstayed my welcome by a long shot. I don't think the boy scouts approved of their scouts having long hair and tits.
It was useful while it lasted though. Some of my only friends came from there. As scouts we were all on the same team. None of the typical childhood crap where kids single people out for random stupid things. If I had to do it all again.. I would enroll in scouts again for this simple fact. All things said and done, I had friends if nothing else. It was a necessary lifeline.. even if I never did learn anything useful(seriously.. the whole thing is a bit of a joke).
Things became particularly difficult when I started to transition. At first I didn't say anything. I knew it wouldn't be a wise idea sooner or later, and I didn't particularly like scouts. None of the activities appealed to me. At the time, scouts was nothing more than an annoyance I had to put up with from time to time. Something I was forced to waste my valuable free time on. As much as I disliked playing baseball.. I would have preferred to start doing that again than be in scouts.
What would I rather have done? Martial arts lessons. I wanted to do that for as long as I could remember, but the answer was always no. I'd have loved to start gymnastics again. I liked it a lot, and I was SO jealous of the leotards of the girls. I wanted so badly to wear one during classes. I was even good at gymnastics.
The last trip was absolutely awful. Camping.. for the better part of a week. It was near the end of my time in middle school. By then I was developing noticeably. A uniform too big for me took care of most of it, but you could still tell(especially since I hadn't grown into a big strapping lad like everyone else..). The ultimate test for passing is being able to go out in a sack and still passing. Blessing and a curse at that point in my life. Not like I had a choice. For some reason my mother wouldn't take me out of scouts.
Bad. Any kid not in my troop treated me like shit. The scout leaders.. anyone in a position of authority.. and kids not in my troop. This is very bad because... who do you turn to? No one in charge did anything to stop shit from happening. Worse. I got pushed relentlessly. No pity. If I fell behind? I got left behind(the only person this happened for..). The only thing that made this bearable was this one really cool guy there. Very tall, and he would sometimes stop and wait for me to catch up. He'd chat for a bit.. then speed on ahead. He was the most physically capable of anyone there, but he didn't care about staying ahead or impressing anyone. He was the only one I didn't already know that was nice to me. He was cute too.
*Dreamy sigh*
..Uh.. anyway.. Worst. Showers each night were.. open. There were stalls, but no doors. You had to take a shower. No choice. Everyone showered at the same time. I got around this by going to the bathroom with my stuff.. then hiding in the woods for a long time. Lots of deodorant. I didn't get caught either.. thank goodness. That would have been a disaster of epic proportions. I thought about huddling as far in the stall as I could and never facing the other way even a moment.. but. that idea was cast out the moment I stared at the array of weenies. I got out of there FAST.
I didn't have a single fun moment. There was even a ceremony for those going to the next level. Guess what? An "administrative error" that my leader outright refused to correct lead to me being a badge short of it. I got to sit in the dirt next to the bleachers the audience(parents) were in.
Goody goody gumdrops!
It was freezing that night too, but I am kind of glad I wasn't in it. The ceremony was.. utterly creepy and new age. The experiences on this trip were the last straw. Only one person in my whole group of friends continued scouts. Apparently we had all been treated like garbage. We didn't stay the whole time even. We left half way through. Everyone agreed.. NEVER AGAIN.
Honestly, I think they picked it up.. even if they didn't fully understand what was going on. I had overstayed my welcome by a long shot. I don't think the boy scouts approved of their scouts having long hair and tits.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Do Re Mi
I was such a big girl. Had it all figured out. No more confusion for me!
Right.
I do miss one thing from Middle School. Choir. I was good at it. Very good. Of course the teacher was amazing as well. She single handedly revived the school's boy's choir and got us awards.
Yeah, boys choir.
It was fun.. lots of work.. but I honestly had fun. I was good at it, but I couldn't solo for crap because of confidence issues. We had to work on a song in our own time for a big test. I think it was a midterm.. I forget. Well, on the day, staring at the camera and the teacher, I froze. My mouth opened and a little squeak came out. I promptly walked out of the room we were recording in and went back to my place. I could see the disappointment on her face. She knew I was good. I knew I was good. I just couldn't.. I panicked.
That one regret aside, I had fun. I was horribly shy about every performance, but I still enjoyed every moment somewhere deeeep inside. It was actually a blessing in disguise that I was in boys choir. The girl's was JAM PACKED. We barely had enough kids for a choir for the boys, but the girls had many more kids than one teacher is normally aloud. We got lots of individual attention. I could go on and on. Some of my more favorite performances. Just how AWESOME of a teacher we had(and a well known one at that), but I guess it is time to get to the point. I had to stand next to these other guys day after day. All of us slowly growing. Perfect chance to constantly compare myself to the others. They all changed so.. fast. It was irritating!
Yeah, I was jealous. For some odd reason I was jealous.
I felt like I was stuck in slow mo. Then there came the time that we(or rather, everyone else) was growing up enough to warrant splitting us into tenors and baritones. After lots of voice cracking (to the great frustration of our teacher) she got a voice range on us. Now, she had done this before when we first started to get an idea of what we were capable of, but it had to be done again. One by one we sung a simple song and got put on one side or the other. Then it came to me.
Tenor.
It was a strange feeling of disappointment. Like I didn't live up to some expectation of every boy. My voice was girly! Then I had a strange revelation. This was a good thing. I was on hormones. I didn't WANT my voice to get deeper. I should have been proud to be a tenor. The duality continued to kick my butt for a while though. I didn't want a deep voice, but all the guys around me got bigger.. got deeper voices. It was intimidating. At first it was only three on the baritone side. Then four. Then the tenor side was almost gone. At least we had much more people the next year.. so both sides had enough.
I do have one interesting story I got out of this. Eventually we participated in a performance where we had to sing with the girls at the same time. Same song. We prepared and prepared. This is how it would be if we went on to high school. Our teacher wanted us used to performing with the girls. I was having.. trouble. With only a few more practice sessions left, I was instructed to do something I'd never have expected. My teacher took me aside and told me I wasn't hitting the lower notes in the tenor range. I'd have to sing the girl parts(which were the same as the tenors except for a few parts where tenors went low). So yeah.. that was fun. I liked that. I couldn't make it as a baritone.. much less a tenor. Even THAT was too low for me. I was dragged aside.. probably because she didn't want to embarrass me in front of the guys. It WAS my last year in middle school though.. so maybe she caught on. By then it was.. how shall I say.. painfully obvious?
Either way.. fun stuff.
Right.
I do miss one thing from Middle School. Choir. I was good at it. Very good. Of course the teacher was amazing as well. She single handedly revived the school's boy's choir and got us awards.
Yeah, boys choir.
It was fun.. lots of work.. but I honestly had fun. I was good at it, but I couldn't solo for crap because of confidence issues. We had to work on a song in our own time for a big test. I think it was a midterm.. I forget. Well, on the day, staring at the camera and the teacher, I froze. My mouth opened and a little squeak came out. I promptly walked out of the room we were recording in and went back to my place. I could see the disappointment on her face. She knew I was good. I knew I was good. I just couldn't.. I panicked.
That one regret aside, I had fun. I was horribly shy about every performance, but I still enjoyed every moment somewhere deeeep inside. It was actually a blessing in disguise that I was in boys choir. The girl's was JAM PACKED. We barely had enough kids for a choir for the boys, but the girls had many more kids than one teacher is normally aloud. We got lots of individual attention. I could go on and on. Some of my more favorite performances. Just how AWESOME of a teacher we had(and a well known one at that), but I guess it is time to get to the point. I had to stand next to these other guys day after day. All of us slowly growing. Perfect chance to constantly compare myself to the others. They all changed so.. fast. It was irritating!
Yeah, I was jealous. For some odd reason I was jealous.
I felt like I was stuck in slow mo. Then there came the time that we(or rather, everyone else) was growing up enough to warrant splitting us into tenors and baritones. After lots of voice cracking (to the great frustration of our teacher) she got a voice range on us. Now, she had done this before when we first started to get an idea of what we were capable of, but it had to be done again. One by one we sung a simple song and got put on one side or the other. Then it came to me.
Tenor.
It was a strange feeling of disappointment. Like I didn't live up to some expectation of every boy. My voice was girly! Then I had a strange revelation. This was a good thing. I was on hormones. I didn't WANT my voice to get deeper. I should have been proud to be a tenor. The duality continued to kick my butt for a while though. I didn't want a deep voice, but all the guys around me got bigger.. got deeper voices. It was intimidating. At first it was only three on the baritone side. Then four. Then the tenor side was almost gone. At least we had much more people the next year.. so both sides had enough.
I do have one interesting story I got out of this. Eventually we participated in a performance where we had to sing with the girls at the same time. Same song. We prepared and prepared. This is how it would be if we went on to high school. Our teacher wanted us used to performing with the girls. I was having.. trouble. With only a few more practice sessions left, I was instructed to do something I'd never have expected. My teacher took me aside and told me I wasn't hitting the lower notes in the tenor range. I'd have to sing the girl parts(which were the same as the tenors except for a few parts where tenors went low). So yeah.. that was fun. I liked that. I couldn't make it as a baritone.. much less a tenor. Even THAT was too low for me. I was dragged aside.. probably because she didn't want to embarrass me in front of the guys. It WAS my last year in middle school though.. so maybe she caught on. By then it was.. how shall I say.. painfully obvious?
Either way.. fun stuff.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
We interupt this broadcast...
Before I bring you more story on Monday(I have the next two already written... thinking of mon through fri and taking weekends off), I thought I'd share some random stories of trauma.
Still middle school for all these.
I have no clue what was going through my head at the time. My thoughts were just wandering through home room one day. Sitting at my desk.. staring nothing in particular. Suddenly.. tears. A flood of them. No reason at all. Suddenly everyone in the ENTIRE class was staring at me. The weird kid was crying again.. and this time no one even did anything. The teacher asked what was wrong.. did I want to go to the nurse? In my haste I grabbed onto the most recent(but still years old) big tragedy in my life. My grandfather died. Yeah, I had already processed and gotten over it, but who was I to not take advantage of my quick thinking and devious mind(I'm a better liar and fiend than I'd like to be.. much better)?
Sigh.. humiliating. I got called a crybaby enough before my transition. I cried at the drop of a hat. I didn't need that.
Then there was the time I got a bloody nose for sticking up for myself. I got routinely shoved around as if I wasn't present. I didn't matter.. I wasn't there. Well, one time I decided I had enough and said something. Rather, I shoved the jerk back then said something. POP.. bloody nose.
At least it stopped after busting some heads(ok.. so I lost it.. can you blame me?).. though most noticeably after chasing some squirt(smaller than ME.. seriously!) down the entire length of the school.. screaming for his head. The main hall was longer than a football field too.
I should have totally tried out for track..
Still middle school for all these.
I have no clue what was going through my head at the time. My thoughts were just wandering through home room one day. Sitting at my desk.. staring nothing in particular. Suddenly.. tears. A flood of them. No reason at all. Suddenly everyone in the ENTIRE class was staring at me. The weird kid was crying again.. and this time no one even did anything. The teacher asked what was wrong.. did I want to go to the nurse? In my haste I grabbed onto the most recent(but still years old) big tragedy in my life. My grandfather died. Yeah, I had already processed and gotten over it, but who was I to not take advantage of my quick thinking and devious mind(I'm a better liar and fiend than I'd like to be.. much better)?
Sigh.. humiliating. I got called a crybaby enough before my transition. I cried at the drop of a hat. I didn't need that.
Then there was the time I got a bloody nose for sticking up for myself. I got routinely shoved around as if I wasn't present. I didn't matter.. I wasn't there. Well, one time I decided I had enough and said something. Rather, I shoved the jerk back then said something. POP.. bloody nose.
At least it stopped after busting some heads(ok.. so I lost it.. can you blame me?).. though most noticeably after chasing some squirt(smaller than ME.. seriously!) down the entire length of the school.. screaming for his head. The main hall was longer than a football field too.
I should have totally tried out for track..
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