blink, don't

... and now the explanation. I'm sure this seems bad, like I'm moving backwards. Here's what I know: moving backwards is impossible. We can only move forward and, it so happens, that this forward looks temporarily masculine. Why? Well, that's easy. Step one: get sick. Step two: lose tons of weight. Step three: stop taking all your pills and injections because you're body is too weak to handle them. Voila! I have more testosterone in my body now than I have in ages, possibly ever, hence looking male is kind of expected. At first I thought it was totally unfortunate but now I'm kind of fine with it so long as it is temporary. Besides it's autumn and I have no girl clothes for this season whereas I have lots of boy clothes for said same. Combine that with a steep economic decline making clothes shopping unwise and the fact that, as a guy, I'm actually kind of hot and you get where I am. How long will it last? Who can say, who can say...

I am (and knock on wood, if you can) feeling better and gaining some weight back. I plan to get an injection next week and within the next two or three to get back to normal on the pill front. I can't tell you what a difference all that junk makes. Well, you know, because you just watched it. Never fear! I'm the Doctor so I'll definitely survive. Everyone else might die and universe go boom but I'll still be here and isn't that what really matters?

a while, it just might be

I've become extremely redundant so it seems pointless to keep a journal, online or otherwise for now. I'm either just well enough to be extremely bitter or too sick to be anything but depressed to the point of tears. I don't want to write about either one or the other anymore and I'd be willing to bet you don't want to hear it. The simple fact is that some days are okay and some days aren't. There's no way of predicting which one I'll get until a few hours into being conscious. Either way I usually sleep most of the day away. I don't think about the future anymore. Until I find out whether or not there's some kind of treatment that can get me back to normal I'm afraid to have hope.

It's been a funny sort of life. Before this year it actually was pretty great despite all the wrong body feelings. Ask me about it sometime. There's a story or two worth telling. If all I have left are all my yesterdays I could have done a lot worse.

news, i gots none

Do yourself a little snoopy dance because the good news is, hey, I'm not dead. I won't hear anything back until the end of the coming week. Thus far though I have discovered that my health insurance, for which I pay $450 a month, is already denying my claims despite my having a very serious condition. Can someone please explain to me why it is that I pay through the nose for this service when they consistently opt to cover ABSOLUTELY NOTHING? They demand money of which I have none so, dear aetna, take a number and get in line, you blood sucking corporate tools.

I can sort of eat again. That's swell. Maybe, if we're all good little boys and girls, the higher power who consistently seems to take pleasure in tormenting me will go bother some other barely evolved primate for a while. Unless I'm reincarnated HITLER... I think I'm due a bit of a break, don't you?

Anyway, I managed to go out to a party and, even though I look like hell, I looked like hell in a skirt so nyah. Take that, stupid Chron's Disease. I don't care if I look like a drag queen now that I'm literally skin and bones. At least I'm skin and bones trying to look like a girl no matter how pitifully I fail.

In the spirit of "nyah Chron's" I'm going to spend some time at a friend's house today so at least I'm not solely in the company of a family who rejects me. So... yay? Sure. We'll go with yay. Why not? When life gives you poo you have to make poo-ade. Yum.

go lightly in to hell

I've officially lost over ten pounds. I have to tell you, if you can help it, don't need a colonoscopy. The prep for it is more than a little hellish. Also? Don't get Chron's disease because you lose like a third of your body weight. I haven't been this thin since I was like fifteen. Yeah... yeah. Yup. Uh huh. Hoo boy.

Think fondly of me for the next 24 hours or so, alright? I am really not doing so awesome and there's a good chance that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

shakespeare's tramlet

While I'm laying around not allowed to eat for two days so doctors can stick things in my mouth and ass (in that order, if I'm super lucky) on Friday, why not foolishly ponder what I would do if I were not, say for example, deathly ill with an incurable disease. Go back and checkout how well structured that run on sentence was. All done? Super. Have a tangent.

Late last night, as my mother and I enjoyed yet another one of our lovely "discussions" where she says I'm a sinner and I say she's an irredeemable idiot, my father began frothing at the mouth because "I contribute nothing" and "have no right to ever say anything against my parents who have done nothing but bend over backward for me, the most horrible child in the world". When I pointed out that both he and his wife were kiiiiiind of bigots he responded by saying "I can be a bigot if I want to be because this is my f*cking house and I don't like it" (and by "it" he means "all transsexuals everywhere"). Then he threw my guitar across the room that I've had since I was thirteen, smashing it so it's body has a huge crack in it. Thanks, dad. You're so right. What a great parent you've been. Thus the tangent ends. Exhuent.

I'm kind of angry. I feel like I've been very patient. Now I have this horrible illness which really feels like the last straw. I haven't been angry like this in a while. I guess mabe it's the sudden influx of testosterone back into my body? I have no idea. I need an outlet though. I want to start doing something creative again and I want to bring trans themes into what I'm doing. What do you think? Tranny punk rocker? Tranny playwright? Tranny novelist? I've got it! Tranny finger painting. Awe, yeah. You know you love it.

Well, there you have it. I'm blogging despite having nothing whatsoever to blog about. I'm just a pissed of tranny rebel without a clue. I'm bored. Being bedridden in a house full of transphobic meanies is zero fun. Cheer me up, peoples of the internet. Sing me a song and dance me a jig. I need. Have another picture from that night where I took the pictures that one time.


I'm looking at you....

video, you're not getting a

I promised a video update. I lied. Well, not lied so much as had the intention and then just didn't really have the opportunity. You have to understand that, now that I'm extremely ill, I have next to zero privacy. My mother walks through my door at least once an hour and, if she knew I made videos, I can't even begin to imagine how extreme her reaction would be. Sufficed to say I'd rather not find out. I'm just not strong enough to deal with her screaming at me on top of everything else. From where you're sitting it probably seems impossible that a mother would continue to deny her child the right to live the way they feel comfortable given the circumstances. All I can tell you is that my mother is possessed of very strong convictions and nothing in this world can change them.

I do want you to know know what's happening. I really appreciate that any of you take the time to care about me at all. There isn't much news to report. I went to the gastrointerologist on Monday. He thinks that, given all the evidence, I almost definitely have Chron's. I have an upper endoscopy and an colonoscopy scheduled for Friday. From the biopsy they remove a more formal diagnosis can be made.

It's important to remember that Chron's has a very broad spectrum. We don't know yet just how severe a case I might have. All I can tell you is that I'm still nauseous, still having *ahem* trouble digesting, and that I can only eat very light and bland foods. I've lost a lot of weight and it's a struggle for me to not lose more. It would seem I'm fighting a losing battle.

I want to write more but I can't. I wrote something like ten more paragraphs but they were angry, sullen, and ridiculously melodramatic. Sometimes I feel hopeful but that has become increasingly rare. I'm trying but it's hard. I wish I could move out but I'm so sick that I need near constant supervision. Why can't my mother just understand that I'm trans? Why can't she just try? Doesn't she understand that her stubbroness is literally killing me? Alright. That's more melodrama. I mean, I think it's also true but what's the point of going down this road? I've fought with her for my whole life. I should have moved out while I still had my health. Now I'm a prisoner. I swear if I somehow manage to get well the first thing I'm doing is leaving this place.

So... anyone have a couch I could crash on?

update, this is not an

You're all dying to know how chroney my Chron's is and how I'm handling it. Well color me in mysterious tones, people, because I'm saving the answers to those burning questions for (I hope) a new Tranny Hermit video on the Tubes of You possibly as early as sometime tonight. In the interim, I've decided to share with all you crazy trannies, natal laydays, and the mens who luuurve us (and the ones who spank it to me. Go on, spank away, Spanky. I don't mind. I love the taste of brie and detergent. mmmm.... anyway) my hair. I mean, in the end, I'm nothing if not totally, utterly, and completely superficial. Forgive me as I've lost a lot of weight and layers of makeup can't hide how gaunt I've gotten. I tried to cheat it out by using certain angles, lighting, blah, blah, yada, yada. The point is hair. Hairy hair hair hairenstein. I took a bunch of pictures and, sound the medievel trumpet, hears the best one (note: best does not equal good):


I totally want to have sex with my hair. It's the best my hair has ever looked. Now if only I could get over this whole "so sick it's worse than death" thing...

sick, no really though

There's almost nothing scarier than when, with seemingly infinite resources, no one can figure out what's physically wrong with me. I spent most of last night in the ER for the second time this year. An ultrasound was done, blood was taken, samples of the less delightful parts of myself were retrieved, and a C-T scan was done. Nothing. They gave me a bunch of generic answers and sent me home.

Then they called me and I discovered what's scarier than not knowing which, of course, is finding out that there might be something severely wrong with me. They think I have Chron's Disease which is an autoimmune disorder for which there is no cure. I'm waiting to hear from a gastrointerologist as to whether or not I should be admitted to the hospital or if I should wait until Monday for more tests.

There's nothing I can say right now. I can't breath and I can't stop crying.

job woes

Oh, what the hell...

I'm so tired of having no job and no hope for ever having a job I might like. I was so enthusiastic because io9 had two paid internships available. I thought there was no way I could get turned down for that. I mean I've been blogging for ages, I'm the hugest nerd in nerd land, and one of the main editors is a trans woman. What a perfect job. I guess my cover letter was just way too excited plus they probably thought I was too old to be an intern.

I'm just dying inside. I don't want to go back to just doing customer service work. I think I have a really natural, intelligent, and humorous writing style and nothing would make me happier than to have the opportunity to use it professionally. Am I too old to try to change careers though? I feel like I have so much working against me. The io9 job felt like it just fell in my lap, a perfect foot in the door and I blew it.

I wouldn't care so much if everything else in my life was always constantly falling apart. I just needed this one thing to go my way. This year keeps getting worse and worse. I'm kind of less sick, at least, but I'm having an upper endoscopy just so the doctor can check things out. Blah.

I'm getting my hair cut today. It's too long, all one length, ratty, and unmanageable. I'm thinking of going short. Here's Maggie Gylenhaal rocking what I'm going to go for:























Hopefully having short hair won't make me look more manly than I already do. I'd at least like my hair to cheer me up for once in my life. I really need it. I need something to go my way, even if it's something minor, you know. Can we rest, Buffy? Can we rest?

she's only sixteen

I'm totally listening to No Doubt while I type this because, oh mah GOD you guys... my mom is like a total bitch! Seriously, today was a total time warp for me. Sometimes I forget I'm old because my family has this tendency to treat me like I'm still in high school (hence my rocking out to Gwen Stefani). Granted I'm kind of due because I can get a little teenage drama especially since I'm hormonally out of whack these last few days.

So, like, anyways you guys... my mom was like totally coming up in my room and giving me shit because I was going to go to my endocrinlogist's today. She was all "I don't want you seeing him" and I was all "Idunwanyougointoseehimblahblahblah" because see I was imitating her and stuff. It was funny. Anyway so she was all "I'll take steps if you go" and I was all "I'm goin to take a shower MOM and when I come out of the shower I am going to dress like the biggest whore!!!!"

Ok. Are you getting tired of this? Me too. The story does read mostly like that. My mother thought that, since I was sick, I shouldn't get my scheduled injection but, since she was telling me and not asking me, I kind of flipped out. The end result of which was hurt feelings all around but an agreement to go to therapy together. I left a message on this doctor's machine but he hasn't called me back. I suddenly got a surge of self righteous anger and decided it was time to stake a claim over my own body, whatever that means. So I glammed it up in that not really that glamorous way that I do, threw my house keys in my mother's face declaring I was done, and stormed out of the house.

Then I came crawling back a few hours later because I'm still really sick and I kind of don't actually have a way to function right now since I, you know, can't eat. It was awesome.

That was my teenage style day. Tomorrow morning I'm hanging out with a gastrointerologist. I have so many doctor boyfriends! I'm like totally the other woman. Shower me with shiny things, doctor boyfriends. I demand it.

day four

I still can't eat. I tried to eat a little toast this morning and it went through me in less than five minutes. The symptoms are starting to pile up. I'm experiencing numbness in my extremities and, just when I woke up from my last nap, I noticed my right breast was extremely tender. An old symptom from about a year ago has resurfaced: my right breast is secreting blood. It's not good. It could be nothing like last time and go away on it's own but, when you're me, bloody boob always equals cancer of the everything.

It's hard not to get freaked out. I've spent a lot of this last year being sick. I'm sure the stress from family and friends isn't helping much. One of the most frustrating things about not being able to keep anything down is that I've had to stop taking all my pills. It's amazing how quickly all my work gets undone. Three days without stuffing myself full of chemical crap and the little softness I'd gained disappears only to be replaced with the hard, stiff muscular form that is my natural state. It's hard to forget that, when I look in the mirror, this reemerging male form is the real me. I can scream to the hills that I'm trans all I want but, at the end of the day, hormone therapy is just a choice, a way of coping with something that the world won't understand or accept. I'm part of the world, after all. I can't accept this, can't reconcile it. I look in the mirror and all I see is a rapidly aging and extremely unhealthy man.

My brain can tell me whatever it likes but it's hard to refute the facts at hand. No job, no money, no family, square jaw, strong arms, wide shoulders, narrow hips, big feet, big nose, protruding brow. You're a man, asshole. Just stop this foolishness. Don't you see where it's gotten you? You're constantly sick, nobody wants anything to do with you, and, to society, you're nothing more than a punchline.

I got a letter from someone I graduated high school with. He sent it to everyone we graduated with, I guess. It's all about how we're all about to turn thirty and how he's a financial adviser. He talks about how he's sure we all have jobs, families of our own, and are paying off houses that we live in. I don't have any of those things. I've been unemployed for nearly a year with no prospects in sight, I can't have a family, and I live with my parents despite the fact that, yes, I am about to turn thirty and, oh yeah, my parents fucking hate me.

I feel like my worst fears are about to be realized. I'm going to die a man that nobody loves. A man who accomplished nothing. I'm going to die a man. Nothing could ever be worse.

sick + fall tv = ANTM cycle 11

So the short version is I am sick. The longer version is that my sick is mysterious and unexplained. I've been nauseous for two days and it's reached the point where I literally cannot eat. Is it a stomach flu? Related to my TMJ? Body full of malignant tumors? Who knows. I'm going to go to some kind of doctor soon though because I can't live on water alone for very long.

In lieu of being perpetually bed ridden, can I please talk to you about America's Next Top Model? I very rarely watch "reality" television but, call my crazy, I was really curious to see how our girl, Isis, would fare as the first official transwoman in the competition.

The good news is that she is fucking awesome. I was shocked to discover that she is pre-op. I honestly never considered the possibility that she'd be anything but post because, being the pessimist I am, I didn't think the world was ready. The bad news, of course, is that the world is so not ready but, really, it's never going to be. Cue Isis to just be the most demure, confident, honest, and classy girl in the competition. Just because the world isn't ready for her doesn't mean she isn't going to put herself out there and demand to be respected. Girl knows her craft too. She knows how to find her light and she can walk way better than any of these other bitches.

It was hard hearing her talk about how she wishes she could have GRS today if she could because, like many of you, I'm growing very weary of being looked upon and thusly feeling like a birth defect. I totally get wanting a vagina, obviously, since I've mentioned like a zillion times that I'm totally on the V Train but I wish there weren't so much focus put on that aspect of her being a transsexual.

I can't blame Isis though. Girl knows what she wants. I do, however, take huge issue with the girls who went out of their way to torment her. In the middle of her shoot these catty, classless whores were saying "better shave that beard" and all other sorts of slanderous and transphobic things. Do you realize you are on network television, ladies? Your families must be so ashamed of you for acting so hateful and ignorantly in frot of millions of people.

That is to speak nothing of the scene by the hot tub where two of the contestants felt it important to not only insist that they are justified in feeling uncomfortable around a transsexual but that the concept of people like us getting shot in the street isn't bigoted... it's traditional. I shit. you. not. How do these degenerates expect to function in the fashion industry of all places with an attitude like that?

But the good news is that Isis is amazing. She has no agenda whatsoever other than to be a great model and I find that refreshing. If people ask her questions, she'll answer but girl's eyes are on the prize. Even if you've never watched America's Next Top Model before, I think you should seriously check it out. Isis is a star and just watching how strong she is will make you feel good. Here she is looking fabulous: