Late Night Freewrites - balance

Having too much time to think is a cliche, but it’s a true cliche.  Without distractions, without people there to show you how stupid a fleeting thought might be, it gets messy.  Your mind wanders to places you had thought you’d gotten over.  Feelings you would prefer to keep your distance from, people that you’d forgotten about and were never really missing, ideas that you’d previously thrown aside as “not worth it”.  Whatever that means.  And, as cliches go (especially the true ones), the night is the worst time for these things.

It’s about time for a cliche, anyway.

Your life feels too literal now.  Wake up, go to work (or whatever constitutes as work right now), ignore everyone else in favor of saving yourself the social interaction, go home, eat, sleep, wake up, etc.  Your life lacks any sort of fantastical substance.  Everything feels watery and real and dull.  The vividness of late night excursions to the woods or getting drunk in a dark room with people you care about has faded away and you’re alone now.  You’re alone and you’re an adult and no one ever told you that it started so soon.  You’re proud of leaving on your own, of surviving on your own.  Everyone is proud.  But that doesn’t mean that this is what you wanted, or this is what you’re comfortable with.  You’ve jumped into things you’re not ready for and never gave yourself enough time to be a stupid fucking kid.  You’ve fucked like four people in your whole life and half of them didn’t even fucking count.  You’ve kept yourself away, you’ve helped raise your sister because your parents are great but they’re also complete morons who have no idea what they’re doing even after two kids.  You watch them living these lives that they may or may not enjoy, but they’re doing what they want.  At least in one way or another.  You don’t feel like you’re doing what you want.  You feel like you’ve started to disintegrate and at this point you’re the sticky sugar substance at the bottom of the mug, only beginning to crystallize.

You have keys and you have rent to pay.  You don’t really have friends, though, because the people who have gotten close enough have been kept expertly distanced.  Just enough that they don’t feel obligated to check in, but close enough that it feels genuine somehow.  You don’t want to form bonds that you can’t promise to pay for.  You’re not emotionally developed for that shit.  All the relationships you’ve had have been shallow and ended when you just didn’t “feel” it anymore.  You don’t really know how to be with someone, not really.  You haven’t fucked someone passionately or even really in any good way (there were those couple of times that you want to try again, with the lights on, with more teasing and more time to waste).  You have these grand ideas for your future, a future that you’re not even really sure what to do with.  You want to be able to get drunk on warm Summer nights and make out with people that make your stomach tingle.  You want to sleep next to someone with the windows open and the moonlight streaming in.  You want to have people to care about, but fuck.  It’s hard to do that.  It’s hard to keep that shit up.  Friendship and love is high maintenance and your memory isn’t that great and you know you’re going to forget to feed it.  To spare it the chance of starving, you prevent it from ever really fully developing.

There are people you want to call up late at night, there are moments that you know you could use to get into this commitment that you crave so much.  But then you pussy out.  You conveniently forget all the things you were going to say and you cut off conversations with stilted, awkward smiles and diverted attention to your cell phone.

The most genuine thing you have is your stories, your fictional worlds that you experience or write about or discover.

How do you fix it?  How do you commit?  Why can’t you?  Why do your hands shake every time you want to reach down to hold someone else’s?  Why does the fear of having something that precious make your head hurt and your body convulse?  How have you survived this long in the shallows?  You can’t be your own therapist.  You can’t be your own friend.  You can’t be your own lover.  Self reliance is beautiful but it is also poison.  You have to be careful.  Co dependency is ugly medicine that makes you feel so good all over but then the need makes you feel disgusting.  Showers can’t wash off the reliance.  It makes you feel dirty.

Self reliance is freedom that kills you slowly.

You need to find a balance.  You need to love.  Both yourself and others.  You need to conserve yourself, keep yourself safe, but you need to feel alive.  You can’t have one without the other.

Find a balance.

Journeys

I wasn't completely sure what I wanted to do with this blog.  My mom and sister both run very funny blogs about life and I sort of wanted to do something like that.  The only issue I'm having is that I'm not very funny or interesting.  I am, however, kinda unique so I thought maybe I could play on that a little.  So here's a semi-serious blog about my journey as a transgender person so far.

I've talked about my transition multiple times before at different intervals of my life.  I haven't thought about it recently, however, as an 18 year old on his way to college with almost a year on testosterone under his belt.  I'm not misgendered anymore.  I feel and look different for a bunch of different reasons and I'm excited to start living life in a way that finally makes me comfortable.

These changes were sort of what prompted my thought process.  I was looking in the mirror earlier today and I noticed my broad shoulders and the muscles in my forearms and my hairy legs and I realized that all of that wasn't my end goal when I first realized I was trans and that all of it sort of happened without it being a big deal or a monumental occasion.  Of course it was exciting and liberating, but I didn't feel like I needed to throw parades in the streets or shout on rooftops.  I was just different.  I grew.  I changed.  It felt natural and normal.

You see, when I was kid I was never a "tomboy" or even remotely masculine.  I had long blond pigtails that I loved and I wore dresses and loved them and I experimented with make-up and loved it.  I didn't feel like I was being pressured into doing these things, I just genuinely enjoyed them and still do!  Women's clothes still don't make me uncomfortable.  In fact, I find myself jealous of girls now because of how cute their clothes are.  I aspire to eventually become a drag queen because I loved that part of my childhood.  However, none of these things registered to me as a "female" thing.  I didn't feel like a girl wearing make-up or dresses or what have you.  I was just a kid that liked stuff.

This all could be attributed to the fact that I was homeschooled a lot of my childhood and because of that I was never really exposed to the roles that young girls had to play in society.  I just made my Ken's kiss and went on with my life.

It was when I went to middle school (at 8th grade) and was forced to eat lunch and have recess with only girls and use the girl's restroom every day and do things like be a girlfriend (which was never appealing. Being with boys was VERY appealing but I've never liked boys in a straight way) that I finally started realizing that things weren't totally right.

I still struggle with the thought that gender is too separated and constricting, but now I feel less suffocated which is what matters.

My first boyfriend was this kid that I never actually ended up talking to or going on dates with.  He was smaller than me, long blond hair and big lips and god I wanted to do very gay things to him.  But alas it didn't work out because he wanted a girlfriend and I was just really bad at being that.

I was lucky enough in middle school to have really weird friends.  One of which introduced me to drag and showed me her male persona and how she bound her chest and she was so damn cool.  She kind of helped me pick off the constraints that I was putting on myself.

I feel like now's a good time to make something clear.  As a queer person, I was somehow never bullied.  It's really weird.  I admitted to being "bisexual" (or something) in middle school and all I got was a weird look or two.  No one pushed me around.  No one called me a faggot.  No one did anything.  At most I was called weird.  Which I knew I was so it wasn't really an insult.  Even in high school as I started transitioning, everyone was supportive and wonderful.

The only reason I'm held back so much during this time is because it was hard for me to stop beating myself up so much.  Essentially, I was my own bully.

I went to high school with two of the three friends I made in middle school.  I, however, moved away from them quickly and made friends with upperclassmen who were some of the first people to really accept me and help me come out.

However, I didn't realize I was trans until I found this transgender photographer/model on deviantART and read all about him and how he identified and how you can still be feminine and be a boy.  You can be FtM and still like boys.  It was mindblowing.

Anyway, from this point on it's pretty boring.  I come out, it takes about a year for everyone to get used to it.  My mom and dad both accept me fully and help me start testosterone at about 17 and a half and get my name legally changed soon after.  I go to a supportive counselor that helps me figure things out and weed people out of my life that keep me tied down.  I date a few really amazing people (most of whom are also trans) who help me and support me and are lovely.  I figure out my attraction to pretty much everyone and declare a tentative pansexuality.  I graduate with my name displayed proudly above me, I get accepted into a college that recognizes my transgender identity and doesn't judge and gives me options (one of which is a "gender free" dorm which I SO CHOSE).  It's been a steady uphill trek from where I started, which is saying a lot because I was never very far downhill.

My story is very unique.  I was very lucky.  The people in my life have been amazing and their support means a lot but it is also not the reaction everyone has.

Now I'm on my way to college, hopefully to build a career in... something.  Make memories and shit.  I'm at a place in my transition where I feel comfortable with my body, I'm happy with where I am in society.  I have random realizations like this and every time it's the same.  It's staggering, it's mindblowing.  I never know how to explain it.  I'm finally able to focus on who I am instead of what my gender is or who I'm attracted to.  I can focus on what I want to do, where I want to be.  That's the most important part, I think.

Humans vs. Dogs

I work at a pet store.

This has, honestly, been one of my dream jobs for a while.  The particular pet store that I work at has puppies that we "find homes for" as well as a smattering of small animals and about 4 betta fish.  The puppies were, honestly, the only reason why I took the job (well, that and I really need money).

So, as you can imagine, having about 20 puppies available to play with on a daily basis attracts a lot of different people, but it mostly attracts babysitters and the snotty, spoiled kids that they watch.  I tend to work days (from like 11 to 5) which means that parents aren't home yet and the only people that come in are these babysitters and maybe a few people during their lunch break.  This means that I'm basically babysitting their fucking kids and I have to deal with 5 year olds crying because they wanted to get out the Husky puppy and weren't prepared for her to chew on them relentlessly.

That's not even the end of it.

We have to meet a quota at the end of the day and part of that quota includes sending puppies home.  This is hard because I have social anxiety and straight up asking people if they wanna take puppies home is really difficult.  I'm torn between wanting to not get fired and also not wanting to be that obnoxious sales person that ruins a family's night because I made a fucking commitment sound plausible to these kids.  I mean, I guess we're supposed to annoy people into buying these dogs but I dunno.  It's hard.  It doesn't feel morally right.  Especially when I'm trying to convince someone to buy a dog and the puppy urinates or shits on the floor and they're like "We're gonna put this one back".  Fuck you!  Puppies are going to fucking shit and if you can't handle that, don't tell me that you're looking to get a new dog for your family.  Puppies smell bad, they shit, they tear up everything on your floor, they eat really gross things and then have to go to the doctor to get it pulled out of their asshole.  As someone who loves dogs a whole hell of a lot and who has to sit there and take everyone's bullshit about how they don't want a puppy that sheds, or barks, or bites, or chews, and they want it to be friendly with kids and to train easy, it makes me fucking furious.  You don't need a fucking puppy, you need a robot.  Get your kids a goddamn goldfish and call it a day.

What's even fucking worse are the people that get my attention only to bring me over to a kennel where two puppies are playing and tell me that I need to break up the fight, that the fact that one puppy is chewing on the other puppy's ear is disturbing.  I don't think I've worked one day where someone hasn't gotten upset at watching two puppies roughhouse.

Basically, what I'm saying is that people really suck and dogs do not and if I had to chose between saving a dog and saving a human kid I know exactly which one I'd chose.

In The Beginning

So it seems that I come from a long line of hilarious bloggers (i.e. my 14 year old sister and my mother) so starting a blog -- an honest, proper blog -- has always seemed a little intimidating.  Alas, here we are, making a fucking blog post.

I thought really long and hard about what I could possibly write about.  I like TV shows a lot, so I thought I could maybe write reviews of shows I enjoyed or didn't enjoy or maybe enjoyed too much.  But I also really like dogs and I can seriously talk about dogs and dog-related things for centuries and still have more to say.  However, I also have a lot of wacky and crazy, sitcom-esque experiences that could easily be made into hilarious tales to share on such a blog as this.  But also I tend to have a lot to say about things like straight people.  So, I had a "fuck it" sort of moment and decided to mix all of it in here.  Don't worry, the dog posts will be few and far between and also probably great so they had better be a TREAT for you.

Jesus Christ you have got to understand what I'm going up against.  This blog is going to have to be a masterpiece and since my humor is a bit dry and uncomfortable, I am very likely to fail.  Don't even let me read my sister's posts, I will probably end up quitting the written word forever.

Wish me luck.

- Alex