Have some magic, HERE YOU GO
Blerpity blerrgghh
I have devoted at least 6 hours to hole-punching and organizing all of my school notes. This arduous task has remained on my floor for about one month and I just couldn't take it anymore. This spans everything from 2003 to 2010. If I had to trip over the principles of ecology one more time I was probably going to loose my mind and stab someone in the neck with a potato peeler.
When I was taking precalculus and I kept a running count down in the margins to when Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie, and the Order of the Phoenix book were coming out. NOSTALGIA. There are doodles all over the place and incomprehensible notes to myself. My unlucky day in 2005 was apparently Wednesday because I talked about it often. I drew Ed and Al from Fullmetal Alchemist kissing a lot in the margins and. Dear god. More Harry Potter fanfiction than I am ever willing to show anyone.
I was taking Heredity and Human and I started hormones in the middle of that semester. I can't believe how long ago that seems.
Lately I've been feeling strange about transition because I know so many post-op people, and accidentally found myself doing that thing where I feel stupid and lagging and like I feel like I should have done more or I should look different too by now or something. At the time I was writing these notes, hardly anybody I knew had access to hormones and everybody was envious I was able to get a hold of them so easily. What is a distant memory for me is still a pretty recent and ongoing thing for most of the people I know. And yet you wouldn't be able to tell on my end, because I pretty much look like I looked 10 years ago. The negative part of my mind makes me feel like I was playing Mario Kart and got lapped twice while I was in last place, and then I have to consciously think about the fact that I didn't WANT to have surgery and I didn't WANT to medically transition. That's really what was right for me. It's been almost a decade since I've come out as trans and that's a long time. I've learned about a lot of things. I've done a lot of growing.
None of that is visible. I still have to deal with bathroom shit. I still have to explain myself like a broken record. My intentions are always invalidated. What I am is constantly questioned and brought up for debate amongst people as if it were some silly thing and I'm not a person that's right there. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm very, very tired. Please don't patronize me, invalidate me, and for the love of god don't mock me.
But it's not going to stop because that's just how it is. People can't see my past. They only see what they see right now. And whatever that is, it doesn't seem worthy enough to respect. I don't know how to completely explain it, but I don't really feel like I know that many people that could relate to this, so I don't know who to talk to. Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to just have people use male pronouns (or just forgo them all together) for me and not risk the OMG WHAT WHY BUT UR A GIRL Y U GOTTA B DIFFERENT OR SOMETHING EXPLAIN TO ME WHY U R DOING THAT also you don't look like a boy 1001 QUESTIONS QUICK DEFEND YOURSELF AND CONVINCE ME TO BELIEVE YOU OTHERWISE TOO BAD
The other thing that sucks is that I'm lying around another summer in 100 degree weather in a binder, huffing and puffing like a very sad beached seal, baking in the noon day sun. I decided last summer that I wanted at least a reduction. And here we are a year later, and do you know the only reason why that is? Money. I feel like I'll never have enough because I have to prioritize everything else first like rent and food and paying off school loans, me credit card, and life. I feel like as far as anything surgery-related goes, I'll never get ahead. My uterus will probably kill me first before I have the chance to get it removed, and then I'll begrudgingly haunt a toilet or a pizzaria or something.
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. I'm not even in a bad mood. I guess I just felt like bitching about these atrocities. I ate a few moldy cherries before I noticed that they were moldy and I AIN'T EVEN MAD.
I wish I could scan some of my school notes though. I like when I can tell I am having trouble staying awake. Especially when the writing gets all crooked because I was still trying to write when my eyes were closing. My favourite notes are my Northern Renaissance notes where in the middle of talking about the Master of Rohan Hours it says 'ddddddddd. Dolly Pockets. HOT POCKETS filled with RHINESTONES???' There is also a very huge, confusing blob of graphite. I'm not sure what happened, like I went into a trance and moved the pencil in a circle for 3 hours. Oh no. There is a stick figure depiction of some painting, and the way I explain what is going on is: 'Bernard -> recommends Catherine to Mary -> tells Jesus blah blah blah I used my boob on you -> Jesus is all like hmm oh snap okay I'll tell God hay let Catherine into heaven.' For some reason there are a lot of drawings of moldy bread, and I talk about pigs eating children. The writing gets too messy.
What does it even mean. I think it means I wasn't able to think clearly about illuminated manuscripts by 9PM.
I'm glad my head is feeling good enough to actually go through all this stuff. Sooooo glaaaaad. Now that I qualified for healthcare, I have to pick the plan I need and I can start getting scans of my head. I wake up with a headache every day, but it's so much more managable than it was a month ago, when I couldn't leave the house and watching tv gave me panic attacks.
I have devoted at least 6 hours to hole-punching and organizing all of my school notes. This arduous task has remained on my floor for about one month and I just couldn't take it anymore. This spans everything from 2003 to 2010. If I had to trip over the principles of ecology one more time I was probably going to loose my mind and stab someone in the neck with a potato peeler.
When I was taking precalculus and I kept a running count down in the margins to when Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie, and the Order of the Phoenix book were coming out. NOSTALGIA. There are doodles all over the place and incomprehensible notes to myself. My unlucky day in 2005 was apparently Wednesday because I talked about it often. I drew Ed and Al from Fullmetal Alchemist kissing a lot in the margins and. Dear god. More Harry Potter fanfiction than I am ever willing to show anyone.
I was taking Heredity and Human and I started hormones in the middle of that semester. I can't believe how long ago that seems.
Lately I've been feeling strange about transition because I know so many post-op people, and accidentally found myself doing that thing where I feel stupid and lagging and like I feel like I should have done more or I should look different too by now or something. At the time I was writing these notes, hardly anybody I knew had access to hormones and everybody was envious I was able to get a hold of them so easily. What is a distant memory for me is still a pretty recent and ongoing thing for most of the people I know. And yet you wouldn't be able to tell on my end, because I pretty much look like I looked 10 years ago. The negative part of my mind makes me feel like I was playing Mario Kart and got lapped twice while I was in last place, and then I have to consciously think about the fact that I didn't WANT to have surgery and I didn't WANT to medically transition. That's really what was right for me. It's been almost a decade since I've come out as trans and that's a long time. I've learned about a lot of things. I've done a lot of growing.
None of that is visible. I still have to deal with bathroom shit. I still have to explain myself like a broken record. My intentions are always invalidated. What I am is constantly questioned and brought up for debate amongst people as if it were some silly thing and I'm not a person that's right there. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm very, very tired. Please don't patronize me, invalidate me, and for the love of god don't mock me.
But it's not going to stop because that's just how it is. People can't see my past. They only see what they see right now. And whatever that is, it doesn't seem worthy enough to respect. I don't know how to completely explain it, but I don't really feel like I know that many people that could relate to this, so I don't know who to talk to. Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to just have people use male pronouns (or just forgo them all together) for me and not risk the OMG WHAT WHY BUT UR A GIRL Y U GOTTA B DIFFERENT OR SOMETHING EXPLAIN TO ME WHY U R DOING THAT also you don't look like a boy 1001 QUESTIONS QUICK DEFEND YOURSELF AND CONVINCE ME TO BELIEVE YOU OTHERWISE TOO BAD
The other thing that sucks is that I'm lying around another summer in 100 degree weather in a binder, huffing and puffing like a very sad beached seal, baking in the noon day sun. I decided last summer that I wanted at least a reduction. And here we are a year later, and do you know the only reason why that is? Money. I feel like I'll never have enough because I have to prioritize everything else first like rent and food and paying off school loans, me credit card, and life. I feel like as far as anything surgery-related goes, I'll never get ahead. My uterus will probably kill me first before I have the chance to get it removed, and then I'll begrudgingly haunt a toilet or a pizzaria or something.
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. I'm not even in a bad mood. I guess I just felt like bitching about these atrocities. I ate a few moldy cherries before I noticed that they were moldy and I AIN'T EVEN MAD.
I wish I could scan some of my school notes though. I like when I can tell I am having trouble staying awake. Especially when the writing gets all crooked because I was still trying to write when my eyes were closing. My favourite notes are my Northern Renaissance notes where in the middle of talking about the Master of Rohan Hours it says 'ddddddddd. Dolly Pockets. HOT POCKETS filled with RHINESTONES???' There is also a very huge, confusing blob of graphite. I'm not sure what happened, like I went into a trance and moved the pencil in a circle for 3 hours. Oh no. There is a stick figure depiction of some painting, and the way I explain what is going on is: 'Bernard -> recommends Catherine to Mary -> tells Jesus blah blah blah I used my boob on you -> Jesus is all like hmm oh snap okay I'll tell God hay let Catherine into heaven.' For some reason there are a lot of drawings of moldy bread, and I talk about pigs eating children. The writing gets too messy.
What does it even mean. I think it means I wasn't able to think clearly about illuminated manuscripts by 9PM.
I'm glad my head is feeling good enough to actually go through all this stuff. Sooooo glaaaaad. Now that I qualified for healthcare, I have to pick the plan I need and I can start getting scans of my head. I wake up with a headache every day, but it's so much more managable than it was a month ago, when I couldn't leave the house and watching tv gave me panic attacks.