Page Impotence
It's Page Impotence, is what it is. Even when I think of something I want to write about, I hit "Post to journal" and see that intimidatingly white blank page and just shrivel, complete with sad trombone sound effects. It started with fiction, progressed to nonfiction, and has now even spread to blogging. But I'll try to forge ahead and not let it win completely.
My own words just look and sound so STUPID to me these days. Making pictures feels so much better.
Anyway, yesterday was a bit of a banner day. First thing in the morning, I came out to my dad as trans. I'd been worried about this, because we're a lot alike but he's also pretty conservative; however, in the couple of months since I'd seen him, things have gotten to the physical point where anyone who knows me is going to notice that something's up. So when he invited me to lunch, I texted back, "I'd love to, but you should know that I look pretty different (male) these days. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." His awesome response: "Your persona is up to you. I need a Casamento's fix." So we had a fabulous lunch at Casamento's, and he promised to look through his old jackets to see if any would fit me, and thus a milestone became a much smaller deal than I feared it would be.
Later on, at the supermarket, another shopper called me "sir." Since she was warning me away from her express lane because she had a shitload of coupons, she probably wondered why I gave her that huge smile and said "Thank you!"
My own words just look and sound so STUPID to me these days. Making pictures feels so much better.
Anyway, yesterday was a bit of a banner day. First thing in the morning, I came out to my dad as trans. I'd been worried about this, because we're a lot alike but he's also pretty conservative; however, in the couple of months since I'd seen him, things have gotten to the physical point where anyone who knows me is going to notice that something's up. So when he invited me to lunch, I texted back, "I'd love to, but you should know that I look pretty different (male) these days. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." His awesome response: "Your persona is up to you. I need a Casamento's fix." So we had a fabulous lunch at Casamento's, and he promised to look through his old jackets to see if any would fit me, and thus a milestone became a much smaller deal than I feared it would be.
Later on, at the supermarket, another shopper called me "sir." Since she was warning me away from her express lane because she had a shitload of coupons, she probably wondered why I gave her that huge smile and said "Thank you!"