Seems like these journal entries meant to coincide with my videos grow later and later. For the sake of habit, let's throw the video up here and then explore what wasn't said.
I'm warning you now, you are not going to like what I have to say. I hate that I even have to say it but, for now, this blog has become my best way to share what I'm feeling; especially when I have something difficult I'm struggling to cope with. You might have noticed that, for a girl who is facing some extra strength stress, I seemed oddly subdued, almost peaceful in my video. Oh, sure, my sadness was as plain as day but you probably found yourself wondering "Where's the breakdown?" or "How does she really feel? if only because I was a little too calm and accepting.
The truth is I, sensibly, waited a good while before recording that video. When everything first happened I was not quite so reasonable. I felt something I haven't felt in years: rage. I have to say that estrogen and testosterone blockers have done a world of good in that department. There may be a whole host of new emotions that wash over me nowadays but rage? That, uh, that one managed to fall far into the background. There used to be a time when rage was more or less all I ever felt.
You know my mother... she thinks if she pushes the girl down far enough that her little boy will resurface. The truth is that I nearly gave her the power to accomplish the first half. That little boy though? He's gone; never existed really. There's something else there though, something I tried so hard to forget.
You saw that new Batman movie, right? You know the guy with the scars and the makeup wearing the purple suit? He used to be my hero. I just deleted the rest of this paragraph. I hope you can understand. There's some madness that's best left unknown.
The point is that I scared myself, really scared myself. I felt certain impulses that should lie dormant. I thought I was over this. Without testosterone there oughtn't be wrathful aggression, right? When I look in the mirror though I see a dark and insidious reflection stare back at me just for an instant before it darts back into the deepest roots of my psyche.
I hope I'll be passed this in a few days time. For now I just need to stay goal oriented: job, money, move. I can only hope that, once I'm out of this house, some of these old demons will be gone for good.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
post, belated
So even though most of you have likely already partaken of the most recent episode of the Tranny Hermit, I am going to post it here anyway because, hey, why not? Here you go:
I mention in this video that I've been feeling much better emotionally, but I have kind of been glossing over certain physical issues that have been going on. I really don't want to talk about those in video format so I figure, hey, that's what blogging is for, right?
I don't know if I've ever said this but, if you're young and confused, don't transition the way I've been doing it. I are not smart. Before I get into what's plaguing me these days, please allow me to give you a little background. I know there's an overall assumption that transition is very new to me. The truth is, I have been taking hormones in drips and drabs for nearly three years now. You might be thinking to yourself "Who takes hormones but doesn't actually transition?" That, uh, that would be me. Yeah. Have I mentioned how stupid I am? Moving on.
While I'm no fan of the gatekeeper mentality, there are certain rules in place for a reason. For example, you should get a gender therapist. I don't have one of those and that is a big, big, HUGE mistake. It's not that I ever have any doubts that I'm a transsexual. The problems extend from two places. The first is that I've had no place to talk through all the feelings I've had and the second is that I have no access now to major surgery some of which I kind of need.
You're probably thinking to yourself, "Lily... did you get your hormones from the internets?" and the answer to that, thankfully, is no. However I'm sure many of you would find it morally questionable that an endocrinologist would so freely dole out estrogen and testosterone blockers to anyone who shows up to their office. The real trouble is that my endo is... well, he can be sort of apathetic. Case in point: when premarin proved to be a little too rough on my body he switched me to a plant estrogen called Ogen. Let me give you a little insight: Ogen isn't worth shit. It did nothing for me other than probably damage the hell out of my innards and I took it for something like two and a half years. Also? I was supposed to get a shot every other week but, uh, I've been poor in my life and my endo insists on being the one to inject me. So, yeah. I only got a shot once every other month or so.
Bad. Not good. The physical changes were minimal, I had no emotional way of reaching out, and so I damaged my body and mind. I wasn't transitioning either. Not even a little bit. Was I insane? I guess, kinda, yeah, although I think "stupid moron" fits the bill a bit better.
Fast forward to January '08 and I finally thought "Maybe I should start taking this seriously". I went back on the premarin, got my biweekly shots, and tagged on some flutamide for those hard to reach testosterone areas. I start to actually transition publicly, tell some of my family what's going on, come up with a new name, switch the pronouns, yada yada. Party. Except there's this problem. Physically, I look identical to my grandmother. I mean I am like a carbon copy of her which is swell except for the fact that she has had cancer on more than one occasion.
So, as the months pass, I think to myself "Self, maybe this is fucking dangerous what I'm doing here". I pushed passed those thoughts though because, honestly, my hypochondria can be kind of epic. But then it started. The random discomfort like my body was achey but in very concentrated areas. It started on my side but eventually I started to notice it all along my lower body. Some days it's been difficult to walk. This week I noticed the discomfort in my stomach and I can feel a lump there. There are lumps in a few places on my body. I mentioned the discomfort on my side a month or so back to my endo but he insisted it was all good in the tranny hood and not to worry about it.
I'm really worried though. What if I'm choc full o' tumors? I don't mean to say it so nonchalantly but, fuck dudes, I seriously do not want to die. If I'd been to a therapist I could talk to them about it but instead all I have is Captain Whatever the endocrinologist who thinks I'm fine. I'll be seeing him on Monday and I'm going to bring it up again.
I don't mean to worry people but I am just a little panicked about this situation. I try to keep it out of my mind but it's hard. If only I'd had a gender therapist I could have had an orchiectomy by now instead of pumping myself full of pills putting myself at risk. Oye. I apologize. I literally have no place else to vent this. My mother has literally said that if I die then it's my own damned fault so I'm kind of facing the potential consequences alone.
Sigh... at least Buffyfest is this weekend. Hopefully I can distract myself until Monday. I'll keep you all updated as soon as I figure out more.
I mention in this video that I've been feeling much better emotionally, but I have kind of been glossing over certain physical issues that have been going on. I really don't want to talk about those in video format so I figure, hey, that's what blogging is for, right?
I don't know if I've ever said this but, if you're young and confused, don't transition the way I've been doing it. I are not smart. Before I get into what's plaguing me these days, please allow me to give you a little background. I know there's an overall assumption that transition is very new to me. The truth is, I have been taking hormones in drips and drabs for nearly three years now. You might be thinking to yourself "Who takes hormones but doesn't actually transition?" That, uh, that would be me. Yeah. Have I mentioned how stupid I am? Moving on.
While I'm no fan of the gatekeeper mentality, there are certain rules in place for a reason. For example, you should get a gender therapist. I don't have one of those and that is a big, big, HUGE mistake. It's not that I ever have any doubts that I'm a transsexual. The problems extend from two places. The first is that I've had no place to talk through all the feelings I've had and the second is that I have no access now to major surgery some of which I kind of need.
You're probably thinking to yourself, "Lily... did you get your hormones from the internets?" and the answer to that, thankfully, is no. However I'm sure many of you would find it morally questionable that an endocrinologist would so freely dole out estrogen and testosterone blockers to anyone who shows up to their office. The real trouble is that my endo is... well, he can be sort of apathetic. Case in point: when premarin proved to be a little too rough on my body he switched me to a plant estrogen called Ogen. Let me give you a little insight: Ogen isn't worth shit. It did nothing for me other than probably damage the hell out of my innards and I took it for something like two and a half years. Also? I was supposed to get a shot every other week but, uh, I've been poor in my life and my endo insists on being the one to inject me. So, yeah. I only got a shot once every other month or so.
Bad. Not good. The physical changes were minimal, I had no emotional way of reaching out, and so I damaged my body and mind. I wasn't transitioning either. Not even a little bit. Was I insane? I guess, kinda, yeah, although I think "stupid moron" fits the bill a bit better.
Fast forward to January '08 and I finally thought "Maybe I should start taking this seriously". I went back on the premarin, got my biweekly shots, and tagged on some flutamide for those hard to reach testosterone areas. I start to actually transition publicly, tell some of my family what's going on, come up with a new name, switch the pronouns, yada yada. Party. Except there's this problem. Physically, I look identical to my grandmother. I mean I am like a carbon copy of her which is swell except for the fact that she has had cancer on more than one occasion.
So, as the months pass, I think to myself "Self, maybe this is fucking dangerous what I'm doing here". I pushed passed those thoughts though because, honestly, my hypochondria can be kind of epic. But then it started. The random discomfort like my body was achey but in very concentrated areas. It started on my side but eventually I started to notice it all along my lower body. Some days it's been difficult to walk. This week I noticed the discomfort in my stomach and I can feel a lump there. There are lumps in a few places on my body. I mentioned the discomfort on my side a month or so back to my endo but he insisted it was all good in the tranny hood and not to worry about it.
I'm really worried though. What if I'm choc full o' tumors? I don't mean to say it so nonchalantly but, fuck dudes, I seriously do not want to die. If I'd been to a therapist I could talk to them about it but instead all I have is Captain Whatever the endocrinologist who thinks I'm fine. I'll be seeing him on Monday and I'm going to bring it up again.
I don't mean to worry people but I am just a little panicked about this situation. I try to keep it out of my mind but it's hard. If only I'd had a gender therapist I could have had an orchiectomy by now instead of pumping myself full of pills putting myself at risk. Oye. I apologize. I literally have no place else to vent this. My mother has literally said that if I die then it's my own damned fault so I'm kind of facing the potential consequences alone.
Sigh... at least Buffyfest is this weekend. Hopefully I can distract myself until Monday. I'll keep you all updated as soon as I figure out more.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
videos, oh yeah
I went back to the well and did a response video to Winwin's Quirkaliciousness Video (and Part 2) because, hey, maybe you thought I wasn't quirky enough. For those of you doubters, please feel free to enjoy a video wherein I show a further glimpse of how odd I may be.
Not really anything moving or serious to add to this video other than that all of it is 100% true. I really did wear my Doctor Who scarf everywhere. In fact, I am part of a Doctor Who group that gets together twice a month (this is what passes for a social activity on Planet Lily).
Alright, I never wanted to change my name to Buffy. I did, however, want to change it to Cordelia Chase. Can you blame me? Bitch is fierce!
Not really anything moving or serious to add to this video other than that all of it is 100% true. I really did wear my Doctor Who scarf everywhere. In fact, I am part of a Doctor Who group that gets together twice a month (this is what passes for a social activity on Planet Lily).
Alright, I never wanted to change my name to Buffy. I did, however, want to change it to Cordelia Chase. Can you blame me? Bitch is fierce!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
videos forthcoming
Alright! Time to get back to business. Well, almost. I'll do it later. What? I'm a procrastinator! How else do you explain middle aged transitioning? Yeesh...
But, seriously, a big thank you to every single one of you for taking the time to comment and share warm, friendly words, give advice, and just be really genuinely caring. I've spent so many years quietly going it alone that I never imagined how wonderful it would be to have others around who actually understood all the insanity going through my hormone addled brain. My whole outlook is much improved and it's all thanks to you.
So, what's new? Anything? Nothing much on my end, really. I'm very anxiously awaiting to hear whether or not I'll be receiving extended unemployment benefits. I'm almost completely broke and the job market sucks even if you aren't straddling the gender chasm. The truth is that I won't be homeless and I won't be starving because, *ahem*, I am living with my family. The downside is that, uh, they kind of hate me (A transsexual whose parents think she's an abomination? Unheard of!) and no money means no hormones or testosterone blockers. That's bad. That's oh so very, very bad. Intensely bad. Not good. Yeah. So, I'm just a little stressed about that. Anyone living in the New York area that knows where I can get any kind of employment, give a tranny a shout, would ya?
With that in mind I am, for the most part, living the hardcore hermit lifestyle. It's kind of difficult to go out and do things when you don't have a penny to your name. I am, however, forcing myself to partake of occasional weekend excursions. This weekend my friends are hosting our annual Buffyfest down at their beach house. Aside from the minimal cash that needs spending, it's also one of the things I most look forward to each year. It's a nice excuse to get together, eat, get drunk, and watch episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer which is quite possibly the greatest television show ever.
Yes, these are the same friends who have kind of been walking a thin line with me lately but, good news, they are working on it. I anticipate a lack of misery inducing commentary this weekend. Yay! No misery is my favorite thing. I'm also hoping to take some video of the event to share with all of you so it will seem as though I occasionally have a life.
And while I'm on a Buffy bend: did you know that I contribute to a Buffy related blog? It's true and oh so pathetic! But also awesome. Feel free, if you are a Buffy fan, to take a gander every now and again. I'm usually not big on posting there but, lately, I've been on a kick and, if you are jonesing for a little more Lily in your life then the Buffyfest Blog is the way to go. There are awful, old pictures of me and even some videos (gasp!) lurking somewhere in them thar pages.
That, I suppose, is all for now. Thank you all again for being super, awesome, amazing, wonderful, awesome again, internet homies! I don't know what I'd do without you. Mwah!
Edit: Oh, alright. Here's an idea of the shenanigans I get into when I'm on that other blog.
But, seriously, a big thank you to every single one of you for taking the time to comment and share warm, friendly words, give advice, and just be really genuinely caring. I've spent so many years quietly going it alone that I never imagined how wonderful it would be to have others around who actually understood all the insanity going through my hormone addled brain. My whole outlook is much improved and it's all thanks to you.
So, what's new? Anything? Nothing much on my end, really. I'm very anxiously awaiting to hear whether or not I'll be receiving extended unemployment benefits. I'm almost completely broke and the job market sucks even if you aren't straddling the gender chasm. The truth is that I won't be homeless and I won't be starving because, *ahem*, I am living with my family. The downside is that, uh, they kind of hate me (A transsexual whose parents think she's an abomination? Unheard of!) and no money means no hormones or testosterone blockers. That's bad. That's oh so very, very bad. Intensely bad. Not good. Yeah. So, I'm just a little stressed about that. Anyone living in the New York area that knows where I can get any kind of employment, give a tranny a shout, would ya?
With that in mind I am, for the most part, living the hardcore hermit lifestyle. It's kind of difficult to go out and do things when you don't have a penny to your name. I am, however, forcing myself to partake of occasional weekend excursions. This weekend my friends are hosting our annual Buffyfest down at their beach house. Aside from the minimal cash that needs spending, it's also one of the things I most look forward to each year. It's a nice excuse to get together, eat, get drunk, and watch episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer which is quite possibly the greatest television show ever.
Yes, these are the same friends who have kind of been walking a thin line with me lately but, good news, they are working on it. I anticipate a lack of misery inducing commentary this weekend. Yay! No misery is my favorite thing. I'm also hoping to take some video of the event to share with all of you so it will seem as though I occasionally have a life.
And while I'm on a Buffy bend: did you know that I contribute to a Buffy related blog? It's true and oh so pathetic! But also awesome. Feel free, if you are a Buffy fan, to take a gander every now and again. I'm usually not big on posting there but, lately, I've been on a kick and, if you are jonesing for a little more Lily in your life then the Buffyfest Blog is the way to go. There are awful, old pictures of me and even some videos (gasp!) lurking somewhere in them thar pages.
That, I suppose, is all for now. Thank you all again for being super, awesome, amazing, wonderful, awesome again, internet homies! I don't know what I'd do without you. Mwah!
Edit: Oh, alright. Here's an idea of the shenanigans I get into when I'm on that other blog.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
videos: where they at?
Look, this is going to be one of those 'being a transsexual woman is soooooooo hard' kind of posts. I know I said I would be positive but I lied. Oh boy. Liar. Hoo...
Does anyone have an ego they could spare; specifically one that is not so fragile that anything can smash it into a zillion pieces on the floor? Cuz yeah... I could do with one of those this morning. It's not that I never have confidence or even that I don't feel grand on the inside; it's the outside that's a problem. You wanna quick return with me to last night to review before I pity party all over this piece? Sure, you do. Set the wayback machine, Mister Peabody.
Burlesque shows are pretty awesome. I say this in hindsight having put off going to see this group perform despite two friends of mine begging me to come see for months now. I relented last night because they had roped basically everyone I knew into attending. When I got there I discovered something shockingly good. First off I haven't seen some of these people in some time which means I hadn't really gotten around to enforcing the ol' gender pronoun switcheroo yet. Guess what? Someone sent out an email filling everyone in and it wasn't me. Imagine my surprise when, before I got the chance to say a word, everyone was just gendering me correctly. That was pretty darn swell. A small victory dance was done.
The show was super awesome amazing drake's cakes of joy. I mean I don't care about another girl's boobs but there's something very empowering about women of all shapes being totally confident in the beauty of their bodies and the power of their minds even when, perhaps, the dudes in the crowd are not thinking about said minds. They exuded a kind of power that I haven't felt inside of myself but, watching them, I was hopeful that one day I would. I'm not planning to be in a burlesque show by any means but, uh.... yeah. I'd like to feel confident enough to feel like parading around naked is an option without spectators oscillating between horking and laughing at me.
I'm digressing. The show ends, we leave, yada yada. It's late and one of my friends and I are still awake and we're talking about the sort of random things people talk about at four in the morning. I'm showing her a picture of my friend in England because she is so incredibly beautiful and I am jealous of her. We happen upon another picture on this girl's facebook (yeah, I know) of me from this past Christmas. My friend comments "I don't know what it is but you really do look so different." Okay. I was still in boy mode back in those days so this sounds promising... She continues: "because that's definitely a boy in this picture but now...". Yes, yes. Validate me! I was feeling really good and pretty tonight but I love validation. But then she says "I mean, no offense, you don't look like a girl BUT...". And you know what? The rest of that sentence? Yeah. It doesn't matter.
The most horrible thing that can be said has very nonchalantly fallen out of her mouth and I am wishing for sweet death to slit my throat and make this crappy miserable existence over. Why would anyone ever say such a thing? I had been so happy that whole night. I finally felt like things were falling into place. Nope! No matter how far I've come, no matter what has changed inside of me, I will always still look like a boy on the outside. Nice. Awesome. Fucking great. Thanks. Anyone want to donate to the "FFS for Lily because she has supreme DUDE face Fund"?
But it doesn't end there! Why should it? I was happy and I think we all know that's not allowed to happen. I go home, I sign online, and another friend who was at the burlesque show messages me immediately. She wants to talk about a musical thing, I now am desperate for validation like I am a validation vampire. I tell her what was said and, rather than having the decency to lie (is it that much to ask?) she instead more or less confirms the truth of my dude face and then proceeds to launch into a whole diatribe about how she thinks I am behaving too differently, that I have changed too much. The term 'dissociative identity disorder' rears it's ugly head. God forbid I feel confident enough to exude the femininity that long lurked within. No, it's the hormones. They've "changed me too much" and it's "not natural". Swell. Not only do I look like a dude but my feminine gender expression? It's a put on. And not just any put on. It's a wrap you in a straight jacket, put you in a padded room, and pump you full of anti-psychotics kind of put on.
Let me wax philosophical with you and have you ponder the following with me: What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? Fuckity fuck fuck jujubees. I just want to be pretty and to be treated like I am a girl. Is it so much to ask from people who are supposed to be my friends?
So videos? Yeah. You won't be seeing any for a little while because I am overcome with shame of the way I look. I hope I'll get over this but words really hurt. They put me back in my place; mind, body, and soul.
P.S. and then my grandmother called and left a message just now telling me to stop being so ridiculous and go back to being a boy. Nice. When it rains, baby... well, you know the rest.
Does anyone have an ego they could spare; specifically one that is not so fragile that anything can smash it into a zillion pieces on the floor? Cuz yeah... I could do with one of those this morning. It's not that I never have confidence or even that I don't feel grand on the inside; it's the outside that's a problem. You wanna quick return with me to last night to review before I pity party all over this piece? Sure, you do. Set the wayback machine, Mister Peabody.
Burlesque shows are pretty awesome. I say this in hindsight having put off going to see this group perform despite two friends of mine begging me to come see for months now. I relented last night because they had roped basically everyone I knew into attending. When I got there I discovered something shockingly good. First off I haven't seen some of these people in some time which means I hadn't really gotten around to enforcing the ol' gender pronoun switcheroo yet. Guess what? Someone sent out an email filling everyone in and it wasn't me. Imagine my surprise when, before I got the chance to say a word, everyone was just gendering me correctly. That was pretty darn swell. A small victory dance was done.
The show was super awesome amazing drake's cakes of joy. I mean I don't care about another girl's boobs but there's something very empowering about women of all shapes being totally confident in the beauty of their bodies and the power of their minds even when, perhaps, the dudes in the crowd are not thinking about said minds. They exuded a kind of power that I haven't felt inside of myself but, watching them, I was hopeful that one day I would. I'm not planning to be in a burlesque show by any means but, uh.... yeah. I'd like to feel confident enough to feel like parading around naked is an option without spectators oscillating between horking and laughing at me.
I'm digressing. The show ends, we leave, yada yada. It's late and one of my friends and I are still awake and we're talking about the sort of random things people talk about at four in the morning. I'm showing her a picture of my friend in England because she is so incredibly beautiful and I am jealous of her. We happen upon another picture on this girl's facebook (yeah, I know) of me from this past Christmas. My friend comments "I don't know what it is but you really do look so different." Okay. I was still in boy mode back in those days so this sounds promising... She continues: "because that's definitely a boy in this picture but now...". Yes, yes. Validate me! I was feeling really good and pretty tonight but I love validation. But then she says "I mean, no offense, you don't look like a girl BUT...". And you know what? The rest of that sentence? Yeah. It doesn't matter.
The most horrible thing that can be said has very nonchalantly fallen out of her mouth and I am wishing for sweet death to slit my throat and make this crappy miserable existence over. Why would anyone ever say such a thing? I had been so happy that whole night. I finally felt like things were falling into place. Nope! No matter how far I've come, no matter what has changed inside of me, I will always still look like a boy on the outside. Nice. Awesome. Fucking great. Thanks. Anyone want to donate to the "FFS for Lily because she has supreme DUDE face Fund"?
But it doesn't end there! Why should it? I was happy and I think we all know that's not allowed to happen. I go home, I sign online, and another friend who was at the burlesque show messages me immediately. She wants to talk about a musical thing, I now am desperate for validation like I am a validation vampire. I tell her what was said and, rather than having the decency to lie (is it that much to ask?) she instead more or less confirms the truth of my dude face and then proceeds to launch into a whole diatribe about how she thinks I am behaving too differently, that I have changed too much. The term 'dissociative identity disorder' rears it's ugly head. God forbid I feel confident enough to exude the femininity that long lurked within. No, it's the hormones. They've "changed me too much" and it's "not natural". Swell. Not only do I look like a dude but my feminine gender expression? It's a put on. And not just any put on. It's a wrap you in a straight jacket, put you in a padded room, and pump you full of anti-psychotics kind of put on.
Let me wax philosophical with you and have you ponder the following with me: What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? Fuckity fuck fuck jujubees. I just want to be pretty and to be treated like I am a girl. Is it so much to ask from people who are supposed to be my friends?
So videos? Yeah. You won't be seeing any for a little while because I am overcome with shame of the way I look. I hope I'll get over this but words really hurt. They put me back in my place; mind, body, and soul.
P.S. and then my grandmother called and left a message just now telling me to stop being so ridiculous and go back to being a boy. Nice. When it rains, baby... well, you know the rest.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
A New Blog Rises
Welcome, weary traveler!
With any luck, you've stumbled across this site thanks in part (OK, thanks completely) to a certain Girl of the Rift variety. I'm excited you're here. So excited am I that I'm making this extraneous blog post just for you. Don't you just feel all warm and special?
A lot of what you'll see here can be a little Tranny 101 at times but I hope that it will resonate with you no matter where in the trans spectrum you find yourself. You should *hint hint* absolutely subscribe to my You Tube page. Why? Well, two reasons. One, I crave validation. Two? Um... alright that first one mostly covers it. Oh! OK! Two: Not every video I make will appear simultaneously on this fine blog. Only videos that pertain to something that involves transition, life as a trans woman, or anything else of a serious variety will be posted here. That leaves those other videos I make to appear solely on You Tube. How will you know the difference? Simple, my friend. Look for the hat. Allow me to illustrate:
There! You see that? That's how you'll always know. If I'm wearing that hat, only the most ridiculous nonsensical things will flow freely from my gob. Why am I eating the hat? I was hungry! You know how it is. You're hard up for cash, haven't eaten in a while... hey that hat looks TASTY. I know you understand.
Anyway! Welcome again. Feel free to peruse the archives, such as they are (I only just started) and I look forward to doing many funny blog dances for you in the future!
With any luck, you've stumbled across this site thanks in part (OK, thanks completely) to a certain Girl of the Rift variety. I'm excited you're here. So excited am I that I'm making this extraneous blog post just for you. Don't you just feel all warm and special?
A lot of what you'll see here can be a little Tranny 101 at times but I hope that it will resonate with you no matter where in the trans spectrum you find yourself. You should *hint hint* absolutely subscribe to my You Tube page. Why? Well, two reasons. One, I crave validation. Two? Um... alright that first one mostly covers it. Oh! OK! Two: Not every video I make will appear simultaneously on this fine blog. Only videos that pertain to something that involves transition, life as a trans woman, or anything else of a serious variety will be posted here. That leaves those other videos I make to appear solely on You Tube. How will you know the difference? Simple, my friend. Look for the hat. Allow me to illustrate:
There! You see that? That's how you'll always know. If I'm wearing that hat, only the most ridiculous nonsensical things will flow freely from my gob. Why am I eating the hat? I was hungry! You know how it is. You're hard up for cash, haven't eaten in a while... hey that hat looks TASTY. I know you understand.
Anyway! Welcome again. Feel free to peruse the archives, such as they are (I only just started) and I look forward to doing many funny blog dances for you in the future!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Tranny Hermit: Supplemental
Mission (sort of) accomplished!
I just uploaded a video wherein I, shock of shocks, indulge in the sharing of a little of my personal thoughts on an issue or three of my transition. For a few reasons, I'm adjoining with that video, and all videos going forward, a corresponding journal entry. These videos of mine can be at times random and, I suspect, sporadic. I want to go into further detail and the written word just works better for me, degree in English and all that.
Here's the video first:
Watched it? Okay, awesome.
My friend who I talk about in this video is a wonderful and amazing person. He was my best friend in high school and much of college and is someone who I trust almost more than anyone. That being said we had a talk and I suspect it is a talk that many of you have had before. I thanked him for how supportive he has been but we both mutually accepted that there are limitations to his understanding of my circumstances, the most obvious of which is that he still misgenders me even though, as a super intelligent boy, he should know better. I can tell that some of this will always be hard for him. I try to joke about certain things most notably my newfound attraction toward men with little success. I thought it would be funny to assure him that he is only moderately more attractive to me now than he was the last time I saw him. He was kind of repulsed by this sort of talk and that... ah, it's hard. We used to be some comfortable with one another. I don't want things to be weird but weird things will be, says I in Yoda speak.
I know that his usage of male pronoun stems from habit but I also suspect it is a result of his desire for things to be as they were, a sentiment shared by more than one person I am either friends with or, uh, used to be friends with, shall we say. Mix that in with my own feelings of self doubt and you have a real recipe for 'woe is me'. I don't like feeling that way because it keeps me locked up in a house alone and resentful of others who aren't all gung ho about my struggling attempts at transition.
Something else happened while we were having our little walkabout in Manhattan. There was this guy sitting on a stoop (henceforth called "Stoop Kid" because I actually kind of liked "Hey, Arnold!") who was staring at me as we walked down the street. It wasn't a nice stare. It was a disgusted, "who the fuck do you think you are?" kind of stare. You know the one. You've gotten it before. Moving on. After we walked passed Stoop Kid, I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck. Finally, I whipped around. He still had that nasty face seemingly permanently screwed on. I looked back fiercely, stuck my neck out and was all "What? Go ahead. Fucking say it. I dare you." I didn't say these things, but, you know, body language. Stoop Kid got the point and we kept walking.
That's the way I like feeling. Defiant. Proud. Powerful. In that moment I had this strong sense that no one could keep me down. About five minutes later that feeling was completely blown when I realized that the humidity had melted my makeup, opened my pores, and exposed the fact that, well, the hair on my face is something I have not yet dealt with. Feeling like the bearded fucking lady I put my tail between my legs and struggled not to hide in shame.
That's a good summation of what my life is like now. This is what I want to show all of you. I'm sure I will eventually have a good cry and there will be a video some day where I'll sing songs of my breasts being breastly and about some boy hitting on me (wishful thinking and delusional). But this is the Lily that is the most honest and like myself: struggling but ready to face the challenges to come. I hope you'll join me and I hope I can help all of you as much as you have done me.
I just uploaded a video wherein I, shock of shocks, indulge in the sharing of a little of my personal thoughts on an issue or three of my transition. For a few reasons, I'm adjoining with that video, and all videos going forward, a corresponding journal entry. These videos of mine can be at times random and, I suspect, sporadic. I want to go into further detail and the written word just works better for me, degree in English and all that.
Here's the video first:
Watched it? Okay, awesome.
My friend who I talk about in this video is a wonderful and amazing person. He was my best friend in high school and much of college and is someone who I trust almost more than anyone. That being said we had a talk and I suspect it is a talk that many of you have had before. I thanked him for how supportive he has been but we both mutually accepted that there are limitations to his understanding of my circumstances, the most obvious of which is that he still misgenders me even though, as a super intelligent boy, he should know better. I can tell that some of this will always be hard for him. I try to joke about certain things most notably my newfound attraction toward men with little success. I thought it would be funny to assure him that he is only moderately more attractive to me now than he was the last time I saw him. He was kind of repulsed by this sort of talk and that... ah, it's hard. We used to be some comfortable with one another. I don't want things to be weird but weird things will be, says I in Yoda speak.
I know that his usage of male pronoun stems from habit but I also suspect it is a result of his desire for things to be as they were, a sentiment shared by more than one person I am either friends with or, uh, used to be friends with, shall we say. Mix that in with my own feelings of self doubt and you have a real recipe for 'woe is me'. I don't like feeling that way because it keeps me locked up in a house alone and resentful of others who aren't all gung ho about my struggling attempts at transition.
Something else happened while we were having our little walkabout in Manhattan. There was this guy sitting on a stoop (henceforth called "Stoop Kid" because I actually kind of liked "Hey, Arnold!") who was staring at me as we walked down the street. It wasn't a nice stare. It was a disgusted, "who the fuck do you think you are?" kind of stare. You know the one. You've gotten it before. Moving on. After we walked passed Stoop Kid, I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck. Finally, I whipped around. He still had that nasty face seemingly permanently screwed on. I looked back fiercely, stuck my neck out and was all "What? Go ahead. Fucking say it. I dare you." I didn't say these things, but, you know, body language. Stoop Kid got the point and we kept walking.
That's the way I like feeling. Defiant. Proud. Powerful. In that moment I had this strong sense that no one could keep me down. About five minutes later that feeling was completely blown when I realized that the humidity had melted my makeup, opened my pores, and exposed the fact that, well, the hair on my face is something I have not yet dealt with. Feeling like the bearded fucking lady I put my tail between my legs and struggled not to hide in shame.
That's a good summation of what my life is like now. This is what I want to show all of you. I'm sure I will eventually have a good cry and there will be a video some day where I'll sing songs of my breasts being breastly and about some boy hitting on me (wishful thinking and delusional). But this is the Lily that is the most honest and like myself: struggling but ready to face the challenges to come. I hope you'll join me and I hope I can help all of you as much as you have done me.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
the price of being personal
Nervous.
That's the way I'm feeling today, specifically with regard to sharing personal information about myself and my transition on the internet. The thing is, I want to reach out, be part of a community. Every day I feel myself less and less capable of hiding behind the old male facade and I have no idea what or who I'll become. I know myself well enough to know that was always an emotionally fragile person. Going through all these emotional, chemical, and psychological changes only makes that fragility worse. I feel like a glass girl, that almost anything could break me these days. It's very frightening.
This blog, while helpful, I felt was only part of what I should be doing to reach out to others. I awkwardly have begun to make videos and *sigh* post them to you tube despite knowing the potential consequences. Maybe it's because all I do is joke around, maybe it's because I'm anything but feminine but people don't comment on the videos I post. It shouldn't bother me nor should the lack of subscribers. It does make me feel unimportant and uninteresting though.
There's a simple, undeniable fact present: I need validation. I'm not proud of that but I'm trying to be honest with myself. Six out of every seven days of the week I feel disgusting, manly, and not even human. I'm struggling to relearn how to respect myself and how to connect with others, both new and old, around me. Someone gave my last video a shitty rating. It bothered me, albeit only to a very small degree. The thing is that the video is less than three minutes and doesn't remotely cover anything personal about my life.
This begs the question: What happens if I do open up and share the deeper parts of my life? Even though my low self esteem and fear of others has made me hesitate, a big part of me does want to share what's happening to me. I've been hoping that I'll find kinship and understanding. Part of me hopes I could help others as much as they help me.
At the same time though I feel like, if a one star rating managed to get under my skin, how will I react to actual hate mail from inside and outside the community? I want to believe that I'm stronger than that but I just don't know. I'm scared and completely self conscious all of the time, hence the near complete isolation of my present existence. I don't know how else I can reach out though.
I have a lot to think about. If anyone out there has any thoughts, personal experiences, whatever.. it would be much appreciated.
That's the way I'm feeling today, specifically with regard to sharing personal information about myself and my transition on the internet. The thing is, I want to reach out, be part of a community. Every day I feel myself less and less capable of hiding behind the old male facade and I have no idea what or who I'll become. I know myself well enough to know that was always an emotionally fragile person. Going through all these emotional, chemical, and psychological changes only makes that fragility worse. I feel like a glass girl, that almost anything could break me these days. It's very frightening.
This blog, while helpful, I felt was only part of what I should be doing to reach out to others. I awkwardly have begun to make videos and *sigh* post them to you tube despite knowing the potential consequences. Maybe it's because all I do is joke around, maybe it's because I'm anything but feminine but people don't comment on the videos I post. It shouldn't bother me nor should the lack of subscribers. It does make me feel unimportant and uninteresting though.
There's a simple, undeniable fact present: I need validation. I'm not proud of that but I'm trying to be honest with myself. Six out of every seven days of the week I feel disgusting, manly, and not even human. I'm struggling to relearn how to respect myself and how to connect with others, both new and old, around me. Someone gave my last video a shitty rating. It bothered me, albeit only to a very small degree. The thing is that the video is less than three minutes and doesn't remotely cover anything personal about my life.
This begs the question: What happens if I do open up and share the deeper parts of my life? Even though my low self esteem and fear of others has made me hesitate, a big part of me does want to share what's happening to me. I've been hoping that I'll find kinship and understanding. Part of me hopes I could help others as much as they help me.
At the same time though I feel like, if a one star rating managed to get under my skin, how will I react to actual hate mail from inside and outside the community? I want to believe that I'm stronger than that but I just don't know. I'm scared and completely self conscious all of the time, hence the near complete isolation of my present existence. I don't know how else I can reach out though.
I have a lot to think about. If anyone out there has any thoughts, personal experiences, whatever.. it would be much appreciated.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
consider yourself broken, fourth wall
Today I broke one of my most cardinal rules: don't post videos of yourself on the internet because you're ugly and have nothing interesting to say. It was in response to Winter's 10 questions which you can find here. I figure since said questions are simple but telling I'd use it as a sort of 'get to know your blogger better' thing. Because, really, you want to know me better, don't you?
Love me...
Love me...
Thursday, July 3, 2008
... and it's only just beginning
Random question before the main event: Has anyone else heard the phrase "Neither Martha nor Arthur"? Apparently it's said by the British all the time. A gorgeous but gay expat friend of mine used it to describe me last weekend. I'd be offended but I'm kind of in that in between phase still and also the way he said it all English-like made me laugh (and my toes curl, but that' s another story). Oh, fine. I have a thing for accents. Sue me.
So boobs. Mine are new and of the teeny tiny titty committee variety. It's no big (literally) because I'm so purty everywhere else (that's a lie). This is where I admit to being stupid. Once again, I gave no thought to how these things would affect my day to day. As someone who never paid much attention to breasts (except in passing envy) I fell under the delusion that the majority of people don't obsess over them anymore. Take a moment to laugh at how unbelievably retarded I am, I'll wait. All done? Awesome. Moving on.
Allow me to make it perfectly clear that I have got zero game. I don't walk out the door preparing to wow the world. I'm a wallflower and a borderline hermit. I don't like attention. I like to disappear in the crowd, do what I have to do, and go back home to cry in my cornflakes. It's not glamorous but it's how I roll. Even before the girl on the in started becoming the woman on the out I was like that. From this you should read that I don't go through great effort to put my girls out there. Half the time they don't even find their way into a bra. If they wanted to live in one of those so badly they'd grow already, but I digress.
Shortly before the "guys are hot" revelation I went on a date (shocking, I know) with this bisexual woman I met through (barf) an online dating site. It's cute and semi important to keep in mind that I've never gone out on a date presenting as female before so it was, for me at least, kind of a big deal. Rather than give a blow by blow (har har) I want to focus on the topic at hand. Relevant info: I am wearing an orange cami, denim mini, and ballet flats. Nothing special but, hey, I'm a less is more girl.
As we sat to dinner I slowly became aware that my date kept glancing down at my chest. Being the stupid ass that I am, I thought nothing of it at first. I mean she's a girl, her boobs are bigger than mine (whose aren't?) so she can't possibly be checking out the goods, right? Wrong. Oh, so wrong. Maybe I am just hyper aware but she was doing it constantly. Like every other minute. Even as we were walking to the subway she would occasionally sneak the proverbial peek.
I realize I am going to have to get used to this but, damn, did I find that annoying. I was so sure that these mosquito bites of mine would be attracting attention to the sum of zero. They're just boobs, intensely small and barely noticeable ones at that. What gives? Shouldn't another woman know better? How much worse will a man be in this situation and how am I going to find the restraint to not kick him square in the baby maker?
Le sigh... like everything else lately, I'm more bemused than anything. I'm a piece of meat to be oogled. Who knew?
So boobs. Mine are new and of the teeny tiny titty committee variety. It's no big (literally) because I'm so purty everywhere else (that's a lie). This is where I admit to being stupid. Once again, I gave no thought to how these things would affect my day to day. As someone who never paid much attention to breasts (except in passing envy) I fell under the delusion that the majority of people don't obsess over them anymore. Take a moment to laugh at how unbelievably retarded I am, I'll wait. All done? Awesome. Moving on.
Allow me to make it perfectly clear that I have got zero game. I don't walk out the door preparing to wow the world. I'm a wallflower and a borderline hermit. I don't like attention. I like to disappear in the crowd, do what I have to do, and go back home to cry in my cornflakes. It's not glamorous but it's how I roll. Even before the girl on the in started becoming the woman on the out I was like that. From this you should read that I don't go through great effort to put my girls out there. Half the time they don't even find their way into a bra. If they wanted to live in one of those so badly they'd grow already, but I digress.
Shortly before the "guys are hot" revelation I went on a date (shocking, I know) with this bisexual woman I met through (barf) an online dating site. It's cute and semi important to keep in mind that I've never gone out on a date presenting as female before so it was, for me at least, kind of a big deal. Rather than give a blow by blow (har har) I want to focus on the topic at hand. Relevant info: I am wearing an orange cami, denim mini, and ballet flats. Nothing special but, hey, I'm a less is more girl.
As we sat to dinner I slowly became aware that my date kept glancing down at my chest. Being the stupid ass that I am, I thought nothing of it at first. I mean she's a girl, her boobs are bigger than mine (whose aren't?) so she can't possibly be checking out the goods, right? Wrong. Oh, so wrong. Maybe I am just hyper aware but she was doing it constantly. Like every other minute. Even as we were walking to the subway she would occasionally sneak the proverbial peek.
I realize I am going to have to get used to this but, damn, did I find that annoying. I was so sure that these mosquito bites of mine would be attracting attention to the sum of zero. They're just boobs, intensely small and barely noticeable ones at that. What gives? Shouldn't another woman know better? How much worse will a man be in this situation and how am I going to find the restraint to not kick him square in the baby maker?
Le sigh... like everything else lately, I'm more bemused than anything. I'm a piece of meat to be oogled. Who knew?
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
like flicking a light switch. well, almost.
Chalk this one up to life always somehow managing to be able to surprise you but, suddenly and without warning, I am into dudes. Go ahead and read that sentence again. It's weird, right?
It's not like I was thinking about it or anything. I was just watching television and said to myself "Wow, that guy sure is hot". My hands literally jumped to my mouth. I looked down at my dog and was all "Maggie, I didn't just say what I think I just said, did I?" But I had.
It started to permeate the rest of my life almost immediately. It felt like one day I would be on the train thinking "Get out of the way, dude, I am checking out that girl's ass" and the next it was "His lips are all soft and his chest is all sweaty. Why is that girl wearing leather boots in summer?"
I'd say I'm taking it well. I spend a lot of time talking to my friends about it and laughing. Someone was telling me how much I'm going to enjoy being "full of cock" which had me rolling on the floor. Then I thought about it and realized that, strangely enough, that sounded pretty darn good. What the hell happened? I had been so extremely gay for so long and then it was just over.
Granted, I now have to figure out how to attract straight men and the prospect of the oft mentioned "tranny chaser" has me wary but, all in all, I'm feeling really positive and upbeat. I'd always assumed that very little would change in my life other than my presentation of gender. Now I'm slowly re-realizing just how many things that effects. Join me next time as I expand on how weird it is to have people talk to my boobs instead of my face, especially since said boobs are really small.
It's not like I was thinking about it or anything. I was just watching television and said to myself "Wow, that guy sure is hot". My hands literally jumped to my mouth. I looked down at my dog and was all "Maggie, I didn't just say what I think I just said, did I?" But I had.
It started to permeate the rest of my life almost immediately. It felt like one day I would be on the train thinking "Get out of the way, dude, I am checking out that girl's ass" and the next it was "His lips are all soft and his chest is all sweaty. Why is that girl wearing leather boots in summer?"
I'd say I'm taking it well. I spend a lot of time talking to my friends about it and laughing. Someone was telling me how much I'm going to enjoy being "full of cock" which had me rolling on the floor. Then I thought about it and realized that, strangely enough, that sounded pretty darn good. What the hell happened? I had been so extremely gay for so long and then it was just over.
Granted, I now have to figure out how to attract straight men and the prospect of the oft mentioned "tranny chaser" has me wary but, all in all, I'm feeling really positive and upbeat. I'd always assumed that very little would change in my life other than my presentation of gender. Now I'm slowly re-realizing just how many things that effects. Join me next time as I expand on how weird it is to have people talk to my boobs instead of my face, especially since said boobs are really small.
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