Been awhile without posting again. I BLAME TUMBLR.

ANYWAY! I just turned in my last paper and don't have any finals until Wednesday (and don't work Tuesday) so I effectively have a four day weekend. SO. To dos this next week:

• Laundry (probably Sunday night)


• Pack clothes for NY. These will later, probably, be transferred to another bag I have at home, but putting them in backpack for transport. (probably Monday) (mostly. Need to track down a few shirts)


• Take inventory of kitchen stocks to see what needs tossed before we leave(Monday?)


• Buy last odds and ends to keep fed until Friday (probably Sunday)(K is taking care of this)


• Find living room and bedroom floors (Wednesday night/Thursday afternoon probably)


• Finish reading The Purity Myth so I can give it back to Angie (hopefully tomorrow)


• Call Girl (Sunday? Need it emotionally)


• Write review(s?) for EdenFantasys (whenever I find the time)

More as I think of it.

The person I am during them is such a different person. This person HATES EVERYTHING and is, in general, an inconsiderate wanker.

And I hate this person. I want to kick them in the metaphorical balls and tell them to GTFO.

Which makes the Sneaky (self) Hate Sprial continue for even longer.

Fuck this shit. Hi, blackberry merlot (half a teeny tiny tea cup, so just enough for me to get warm and tingly enough to forget that right now I FUCKING HATE MYSELF).

I'll be starting Effexor sometime this coming week. My only hope at this moment is that it will not make me itch like crazy like Wellbutrin did.

I also have to have blood work sometime in the next three weeks to make sure my liver and kidneys are working proper (since antidepressants and lots of other meds aren't a good idea for those with liver/kidney problems). Not concerned; I had to have bloodwork like that A LOT when I was young due to all the things I had to take to stay functioning. Although I don't like the idea of needles, obviously :(

The NP I talked to seemed mostly awesome and to understand the gender crap etc. She was surprised for some reason that I'd been bullied--apparently I don't look like I'd stand out in a TEEEEEEENY tiny school. O_O. On the other hand, when I asked what the rates of sexual dysfunction for Effexor were she immediately went 'oh, it's really low and I understand that you're concerned since you're seeing your partner soon'--especially nice since I'd kind of hem'd and haw'd on the 'are you sexually active' question since depending on what you mean by that I am or I'm not. She did seem to do a kind of nervous laugh after, when she'd noted how 'well we have to make sure you're not pregnant since the meds can harm the fetus', I replied with 'well if I WAS pregnant I wouldn't stay so for long'. Yeah, I'm really blunt about the fact that no matter how that happened, I'd have an abortion--if nothing else, because the hormone wiggity-whack can increase the crazy (not to mention gender dysphoria and other things like how my crazy should not be passed on).

(Note to self: Friday, call to make next appt. and to arrange payment since you forgot your bloody debit card this morning)

So I got my hair cut today. Here's what it looks like while damp, with glasses and without.





And dry.





I believe this is the shortest (and thinnest!) I've ever had it, and it's quite refreshing.

Mostly unrelated, wow I have not used this icon in quite a long time.

-Liquid lip stain (I really wish I could remember the brand I got one time that I adored, argh!)
-Concealer/foundation/powder
-Blush
-Lip liner
-Nail polish (and maybe fake nails for certain occasions)
-Eyebrow pencil

I think the clouds have finally broken.

For now.

The thing is, I've realised this happens every month or so. So, yeah, still perusing the meds etc, because this last attack was hell, and I know I'll only get a short reprieve until it starts up again. Sigh.

But for now, I'm going to try to throw myself back into school work for as long as I can.

[This post will get edited as more thoughts come to me]

I just read this wonderful takedown of 'It Gets Better' and why it's BS.

So, here's this.

I don't know when the bullying about my sexual orientation started. Probably sixth grade. I'd been bullied for numerous things before that (including not dating and not being an appropriate female in the right ways) so it all blurs together.

What I do remember is my horrifying, now-shameful desire to stay in the closet to all but immediate family and my dearest friends on the internet. I threw out things to try to make myself seem straight. 'Oh, I'd date a boy!...if he wore makeup for me in the bedroom'. 'Oh, if I had to pick one guy from that grade to date? B.' (who happened to have an ambiguous presentation at times). Etc, etc.

I didn't come out because I knew it would get better. In fact, the messages I got told me otherwise--people saying they would come to my funeral and laugh, etc. If what had happened the day I came out happened any other day, I might have stayed closeted until well into high school or later.

And it didn't get better after I came out. It got worse. I was all but thrown out of the girls' locker room. I was called a whore. My secret desires, told to people I thought were friends, were told to my objects of desire and I was shamed for them. Even when the boys asked me what girls I thought were cute, there was always a biting edge behind the words. That I was not a girl, but I was still not one of them because of my bits. That I was something different and less than.

High school got easier, right?

Yeah. I was dating all of my close friends, apparently, and my very knowledge of my desire questioned when I admitted I had never even kissed.

I didn't kill myself. And this is not because I was brave, or I knew there would be something to look forward to. I just didn't. Sometimes, looking back at how much I hurt back then, I don't know why.

I can't tell someone to not kill themselves because it will end. I cannot tell them to step out of the closet because then they won't hate themselves. That would be horribly disingenuous. I can't even say 'if you kill yourself, they win'.

What I can say is this. They are wrong. They are full of hate and fear. You do not need to change. They do. You do not need to come out of the closet if doing so will get you kicked out of your home or beat up or killed. People need to not kick you out or beat you up or kill you.

I'm not telling you to stay in the closet, either. Be yourself. Play football, paint, act, do what makes you happy even if the gender and sexual binary says you shouldn't. If you get hurt and scared because of what people do? Tell people when you are attacked. If an authority figure doesn't listen, tell another one. Tell a friend. Keep telling people until someone DOES SOMETHING. If someone tells you to just shut up and play along, shout until someone realises that you are not the one with the problem.

(I don't think this is finished yet, but the emotional fatigue has set in)

Tomorrow, I'm going to talk to my Policy prof about this project. Not due until the week of the 26th, but with everything else going on (in life and in my head), I'm totally stumped and panicky and I want to do well. Since I don't work I'll have time to talk to her (unlike Thursdays when I only have fifteen minutes between that class and work), so hopefully I can figure something out so I can breathe a little bit.

Unrelated: Right now, one of the few things helping me hang on is the music from Strictly Ballroom. God, movie, why so underrated?

Appointment confirmed. Now just to get all the paperwork done, esp. the stuff to get my meds. Urgh. Thinking I'll go on campus early to get some of that done now.

(also, listening to Amy's theme while talking about going to a psychiatrist...kind of funny)

ETA: Paperwork in. Hopefully the proof-of-income stuff I gave them will be sufficient (couldn't get hold of my W-2s at the moment, and that doesn't represent my current income anyway). Hopefully I'll know by Friday.