Open letter to Ms. Lindsay Leigh Bentley

Hey gang. I know it's been ages since I've posted. I've been busy, you know? And other than a few odd comments I've had the misfortune to overhear (e.g. "it's fine if you're gay, it's fine if you're straight, but bisexual people need to just pick one" so, since I'm gender-fluid, no one should ever date me?) nothing recently has brought up the issues I'm most familiar with in a way that I felt strongly enough I had to write about them.

But it turns out people have the most interesting misconceptions about being trans, and when they are applied, they go from interesting to oppressive. I recently read a blog post that was very nicely worded and yet, despite all the author did right, I still finished reading the post and felt as though this author misunderstands trans people and thinks we don't really exist, or maybe that, despite the fact trans people exist, we can't know ourselves that thoroughly until at least puberty (which, from my friends' collective experience, is the time that all issues related to being in the wrong body get exponentially worse.)

(Not familiar with the child she's referring to? Read this for a nice summary with the original video.)

As you can probably already tell based on my comments, I distinctly disagree with the conclusions that blog post led me to.

Funnily enough, my experience as a child isn't too different from this author's. I feel it may be helpful to share, and hopefully address the misunderstandings just as politely as they were presented.

Here goes: 
An open letter to Ms. Lindsay Leigh Bentley. 

Dear Lindsay,

I hope I can call you that. It's how you signed your blog post, after all.

So much of your post resonated with me. I grew up a self-proclaimed tomboy. Nearly all of my friends before 8th grade were male, and the girls I was friends with were from girl scout camp, where there was obviously no boys, but we were all the rough-and-tumble type at camp anyway so I often found kindred spirits to befriend.

It's interesting, given that I have since discovered myself as a gender-fluid individual, that I never questioned that I was female. I should note that I am the exception not the rule. Most trans people know their gender doesn't match their body from a very young age. I didn't figure myself out until after puberty. Of course, I only knew of two binary genders at the time but that's a conversation for another day.

In fact, in middle school, when we had to write a paper answering the question "do girls or boys have it easier?" I didn't even have to think. Obviously girls had it easier because it was okay if we had guy-friends or acted masculine. But it was social suicide for a boy in the lower grades to hang out with girls or act feminine. Girls had more freedom of expression, freedom to be ourselves. Clearly that was better. Now, as a less-naive adult, and versed in the language of feminism, I recognize that the "freedom" I thought I had was still rooted in sexism. Men can't be any less than masculine because that's weak. Girls are allowed to try to be stronger and less oppressed. Men do have "better, more successful" lives (in terms of more income and less harassment and similar standards) than women. But for young boys and girls, I still stand by that conclusion. Young girls, in general, have more freedom than young boys do, and freedom is not bad.

You enjoyed some of that freedom. So did I. You concluded that since you were a masculine child who was allowed to be yourself and wished to be a boy, and since you are just fine now, as a grown woman, that it is what? Cruel for Ryland's parents to let xem present as male and perhaps encourage xem to do so? I use the gender neutral pronouns in acknowledgement of your uncertainty of Ryland's gender. I'll admit, it's possible your experience was similar enough to Ryland's that your fear is justified. Perhaps, Ryland as a teen will have huge issues with transitioning hormonally when puberty should have "fixed" it and made xem a "normal" girl. Perhaps not. I think the balance is tipped far in the "unlikely" side, but your conclusion is still a possible reality.

I don't pretend to be an expert on your life, nor on Ryland's. I only know what your blog tells me about you and what the news tells me about Ryland. And of course, since I fall under the trans umbrella and I have many friends who are binary trans, I have learned etiquette regarding trans people and the process of transitioning, and the meaning of words.

My primary complaint with your blog post is actually the subtitle. You called yourself a male-identifying child. I suspect you used this after using context clues to guess what "identifying" meant in the context of gender identity. You described yourself as a masculine child who "wished" to be a boy. I cannot speak for all trans people, especially since I am a minority within the minority. However, what I consistently hear from my trans friends who identify as female (or male-to-female if you prefer) is not "I wanted to be a girl and now I've become one". What I hear is "I've always been a girl. Even when everyone told me otherwise I knew they were wrong. I'm glad everyone else can now see the girl I've always been."

That is what identifying is to trans people. It is not wishing. It is knowing. I hope you understand why such similar sounding statements are worlds apart in meaning.

I honestly don't know which category Ryland falls into. I only know what little the internet tells me about xir life. I have a solid guess which one describes your childhood based on your choice of words, but even so, I can't be certain from only one post. Essentially, I've just met you, after all.

Regardless, the difference between identifying and wishing is whether or not transition is appropriate. For someone who, with the definition I've just presented, identifies as something other than the gender they were assigned at birth, transition is appropriate. Those that wish they were another gender have consciously or unconsiously acknowledged their actual gender. Many trans people wish to be cisgender, wish that their minds match their bodies, wish that transition and social stigma aren't necessary for them. Transition can be expensive and no one chooses to be an outcast. Just like your wish to be male, the wish to be cisgender does not change the reality of anyone's existence.

My other complaint with your post has to do with etiquette. We may not know all the details of Ryland's life. We only know that the video says "he identifies as male." When you are told someone's identity, whether or not you believe it, it is polite to use the pronouns suggested by that identity. At the very least, don't use the opposite ones. Through your entire post, you called Ryland "she". That can very offensive, even though I can see you doubt how long xem "identifying" will last. Your words tell me you think xe is not really trans. When that assumption is applied to trans people in general, it is offensive. Treating trans people as though they are their assigned gender is called trans-erasure. It says you think they aren't really trans, and often it also says you think trans people don't exist. I don't know whether or not you believe trans people exist. But if someone told you that girls couldn't be masculine, so obviously you weren't a girl or you were never masculine, you would be offended too. You clearly exist as you are and with your exact history; it is that person's misinformed belief that girls can't be masculine. I hope you understand why erasure and misgendering are offensive, whether or not you believe trans people exist. No one likes to be told they don't exist or that their identity isn't valid.

I feel that I've been very negative, but I actually liked much of your post. For example, I appreciate that you understand that gender expression is not gender identity and does not relate to sexuality. You were perfectly capable of being a masculine child and still being a girl. It's perfectly possible for a male child or adult to be feminine and not a transgirl or transwoman. Sexuality really can't be known until puberty, when people become sexually aware, so "opposite gendered behaviors" in childhood don't reflect a child's future sexuality. You made these points in different words, and they are all very good. They do not enforce harmful stereotypes. You actually attacked the harmful stereotypes that bother me most. I love when people do that.

Finally, I would like to address the assumptions I have regarding Ryland, and why I believe xir parents are doing the right thing, since you and I came to different conclusions.

You remember how I explained "identifying" from a trans person's perspective, I hope. It's only been a few paragraphs, after all. Anyone now who feels strongly enough to look into transition has many resources online, support groups in person and on Facebook, and other places. In the internet age, it's easy to find other people who feel the same way you do who can explain the terms they all use and share their own stories. I trust that any parent who would be open minded enough to listen to their child say "I am not a [assigned gender]" despite what their eyes and the doctors tell them, would also be open minded enough to know they don't know everything and go looking for those answers and talk to real trans people about their experiences and struggles, and also to search out people like you and hear your story so they could recognize what isn't being trans and carefully determine whether or not the words and emotions are a phase or whether they will last. Some people say that it can only ever be a phase, but the collective experience of my trans friends says that statement is false.

Do I know that Ryland's parents are actually being that careful? Of course I don't know. I've never met them. But by virtue of them listening to their child and allowing xem to know xemself, I trust them to also listen to the voices that have gone through similar experiences.

You think it is cruel to force a girl to go through male puberty. I agree. But it is also cruel to force a boy to go through female puberty. If Ryland is male as xir parents claim (and unless you know the family personally, neither you nor I can talk to Ryland and judge the sincerity of xir identity for ourselves, so we have to trust xir parents' judgement) then transition now may be the safest option. The parents cannot enforce this transition at puberty without a doctor's assistance, to prescribe appropriate hormones. (Hormone blockers, to delay puberty in case Ryland is an early bloomer are likely to be prescribed already, but are also completely reversible, so I'm ignoring their existence for simplicity.)

Even if the parents are making a bad choice for their child, the doctors will double check it. A significant part of the process for anyone getting hormones to transition, regardless of age, is to talk to a psychologist one-on-one and have the psychologist write a letter of recommendation for hormones before they can ever be prescribed. Ryland will be a young teen by then, (xe won't need hormones until puberty after all) more than able to think and speak for xemself, and any psychologist knows more than I do about any problems likely to come from a prepubescent mind, and will take them into account before writing the letter.

For all of these reasons and more, I believe Ryland is in no danger of being forced into the wrong puberty. I would hesitate to put my own child in the same spotlight if they were transitioning at a young age, but that would be me projecting my own shyness onto my children and enforcing a better-safe-than-sorry policy because I believe it is best. No one seems to complain when parents teach or enforce safety-related beliefs over their children. Only when the parents teach other attitudes that are "too conservative" or "too liberal." Again, that's a thought for another day.

You are concerned for a child that is not your own. From the sound of it, you have raised your own with love and without enforcing restrictive stereotypes. That's fantastic. Keep up the good work. But a little advice, if I may. Don't worry about Ryland. You can't affect xir life, and even if you do, you are unlikely to know it. Don't stress about what you can't change. Keep loving the child(ren?) you have. Raise them well. I hope to do the same one day.

Best

~ Kara

(edited to get rid of that awful font. The joys of mobile blogging: my app that is best for typing has a weird font, and the Blogger app is too smart and keeps it. :P )

Censorship, Part 2

Read part 1 first to avoid confusion.

. . . I would hyperlink it, but apparently Blogger mobile doesn't allow that. It's just the last post on this blog, written two days ago. Simple enough. Stupid app. :P

So, I did wind up soaking the papers I'd been censored from. I followed up two hours later by writing "CENSORSHIP SUCKS WHEN IT'S EVERYONE" and then smaller, "individually it's a shard of glass in the heart"

Barely 40 hours later, the papers are all in the bathroom trash can. Someone didn't like the reminder that they censor people and that it hurts.

I am rather amused this time, at the irony, because someone's immediate reaction to "censorship sucks" is to take down the entire place to write along with the message. 'Let me censor any reminder that censorship happens.' Good luck with that. People always notice.

But on a serious note, the reactions I've had to the previous post have informed me of other times censorship happens on campus. Before an open house, all the "negative" post-its on another bathroom discussion board disappeared, even the ones like "I miss you friends when we're not together" which I would personally consider positive underneath. Another friend has been formally reprimanded for admitting to being suicidal because "it makes the people around you uncomfortable." I'm glad to know I'm not alone in being censored, but this also shows that the problem is pervasive, and can strike in all magnitudes.

Amused though I am at the latest example, censorship is real and it hurts people. I don't have a perfect plan to fighting it, but I entreat you, readers, to listen to people's stories. A kind, patient, listening ear can be very healing to those who feel silenced.

Censorship REALLY sucks

Censorship is old. And it continues getting older. I'm sick of it.

Yes, I am a pansexual atheist on a Christian campus. I generally censor my opinions for others benefit, especially in conversation with people I don't know well, and unless I'm having a one-on-one chat with a friend, conversation including or within earshot of people I'm not close to is 100% guaranteed. So that's a lot of assuming Christian perspective when explaining why even though I love a show, I can't just assume my friends will or whatever other shallow conversation I can manage to have with people. My friends here that do I'm an atheist or pan or whatever portion of my story they know can and would tell you that I don't try to censor their beliefs or opinions or experiences just because I don't happen to share them.

On the flip side, as a female college student, I have an extra advantage. I can express myself through the dry erase boards or construction paper hung within my dorm's bathroom stalls.
Last year, the month before I'd started college, I was travelling overseas, and changing time zones had stressed my body enough that my period didn't even try to start. So when my next period was three days later than the earliest I had hoped for it, I wrote this comment anonymously on the dry-erase board in the stall: "If you're dating a transgirl, you can still get pregnant and then everyone would judge you." (If that had truly been the case, I would have been a pregnant, unmarried girl in a gay relationship, AND dating someone that is judged even more for who she is than the average gay person.) Within hours, my comment at the bottom of the whiteboard had been very cleanly erased. Let me make something clear. These were laminated posterboard. They NEVER erased as well as true dry-erase boards, and always smeared. I didn't care for long at that time because I hadn't seen a mass-erase smear yet, and because I soon made friends and quit feeling so vulnerable and alone.
This year. Different dorm, different PA, different decorations. This year, there is something different in each stall rather than a plain ol' whiteboard in each one. One of the ones I rarely visit has construction paper on the walls, a few markers sticky-tacked next to the paper, and a prompt "Write something you learned today." Well, I'm generally somewhere between female and androgynous, so one day I was feeling dysphoric, almost more about people's assumptions of my religion than people's assumptions of my gender, but sort of both. So I wrote in small letters in the corner of one of the four pages, in a color that did not stand out: "Even cis-people can feel dysphoric some days." I assumed that the words were small enough and the terms were uncommon enough that people who didn't know what they meant wouldn't care, people who did would know they were not alone, and anyone curious would look up the terms they didn't know and wonder or assume what some anonymous person on the floor was going through. It wasn't big and obnoxious like the word "PICCOLOS" which was written in huge letters across two of the sheets of paper (that single word doesn't even relate to the prompt as far as I can tell.) My comment was small and easy to miss. I know even broaching the idea of transgenderism is scary to people who have never dealt with it, but cis- is the rarely-used antonym of trans- so I didn't worry about it.
Apparently I should have. I came back today, and the door of the stall was wide open, so I wandered in, wondering if anyone had left any snarky comments, like they had on "PICCOLOS" (including the jibe "are never in tune?"). I had to search for my comment and I finally realized there was a water mark around the words "people can" in the corner of the paper I'd written on. The four papers are taped in a square, I'd written in the bottom corner of one of the top papers. There was no water at all on the lower paper, and my comment was again very cleanly erased.

This is when I get mad. Roommates / best friends can call each other "poophead" and worse on the dry-erase boards and their banter not get erased for weeks or until the boards are full of comments and doodles. People can insult instruments - and by association the players of those instruments - and call them awful on construction paper. People can write (my paraphrase) "I'm super needy, but that's okay because god." But any time I legitimately try to "share my struggles" or start an anonymous conversation about real, complicated issues, I only get erased.
Silenced. That's how I felt when I first looked for comments on my "getting judged" note. That is especially how I feel now. I have proof that people are not just censoring obnoxious or negative comments. They don't even censor ones that target specific people on the floor. But my "people might go through..." (by which I definitely mean "I am going through...") comments ALWAYS get erased. Why? Because people don't want negativity on a board intended to be about interesting things? Fine. Then erase anything negative. Including "I am needy" and "certain musicians can't play music." Because it seems like trolling? Who the hell would come up with something like that to troll with? Do I pretend to be hurt for sympathy? No! If I was trolling, I'd come up with something intended to insult someone else. I can't figure out how my comment could come across as insulting. And besides, other people were doing some insulting un-erased.

I have come to a conclusion that has two options. There is either something magical about me, or something magical about transgenderism that people single out comments, and hate or fear the idea enough to censor. I know it is more likely to be transgenderism, but it really feels like I'm being singled out.
Censoring transgender issues is selfish, shallow, and ultimately self-defeating. I have met someone ON CAMPUS who, like my girlfriend, was identified as male at birth, but strongly thinks of herself as female. I (generally) only indirectly deal with trans issues, but I KNOW I'm not the only one. It is a valuable dialog to start on campus. I am not bold enough to connect my name with starting the discussion, but why erase it? Why hide?

I suspect PAs in both cases, particularly the latter. Who else would feel the need to moderate bathroom discussions? But the thought hurts. PAs (called RAs in some other colleges) have to take a leadership class before they get assigned to a dorm and wing, and are expected to be welcoming and accepting and someone you can talk to. By the end of the year, I did truly get that safe-person vibe from my PA. This year, my two PAs are enthusiastic and outgoing, but neither one has ever attempted to make conversation with me deeper than "tell me about your family" or "hey, Kara, how's it going?" (At least they know my name.)

I'm just not sure how to react. I could write my controversial opinions bigger. I could write on the walls. I could find myself paintpens and write obnoxious things deliberately. A good friend who heard my preliminary rant before writing this post, suggested censoring other negative things to even it out. I am now tempted to fill my pot with water, soak all four papers in one go, and come back two hours later to write "how does censorship feel now?" and probably more mean things depending on how much I let my anger fizzle.

Yes, I know my other blog is dedicated to the times I can redirect annoyance into amusement. Christianity I can laugh at, no matter how judgmental the christian or the preaching I hear. Censorship infuriates me. I tolerate people and lifestyles and opinions and beliefs, but I draw the line at censorship. Tell me I'm wrong or misguided or sinful or whatever you want to say as much as you want, but I need to have a voice too. And so does everyone else, regardless of how small the minority they represent.

New Blog on the Side

Hey, all. So, I don't know about you, but I think it's a little ridiculous that neither Katie nor I have posted in close to a year. I'm going to fix that, but because everything I've had the inspiration to write about fits into a very different theme than our androgyny blog, I've started a separate one. It's called Ramblings of an Amused Atheist and I'm sure you can find it from my profile.

In any case, happy reading. Sorry I've been gone so long.

~Kara

This is why I can't study

It's that time of year again. Finals week. Amazingly, I didn't have any finals today. I'm supposed to have two finals tomorrow, but I might take three of them. (I know. I'm such a rebel...) And I attempted to start studying for my film final because if I get a 91 on the last project, which doesn't have a grade up yet, and a perfect score on the final, I can just barely make an A. I don't usually study, but I suppose it's worth it.
Anyway. First chapter I was skimming in my textbook is on audio. All the technicalities of audio, because you can't teach aesthetics in a textbook. You really can't teach aesthetics at all, except as relative to other things and as vague generalizations. Nothing will look perfectly appealing to everyone. But I'm not here to rant about that... Okay. Tell me you know that most audio cables have "male" and "female" ends. Well, they do. It doesn't take much imagination to see why. But XLR cables are not at all obvious. See? Which one is female? Is it the one that, when they're connected, is visible around the other? NO! The other one is female. Because we're not just looking at the arrangement visible when they're connected, but at the actual metal where electricity is conducted. Inside the male-that-looks-like-female end are three prongs, and they go into holes in the female-that-looks-like-male end. And no one ever listens to me when I try to explain that XLR cables are androgynous and that it's not as obvious as it should be. I mean, really. I know what to look for, but when they're connected, they look like they should be opposite. Hmph.
Since we're talking about ways to remember things that don't help me, let me discuss "righty tighty, lefty loosey." The major problem I see with it is that when a point on the top of a circle moves left, the point exactly opposite (on the bottom) moves right, and vice versa. But last time I brought that up and said that we should have a rhyme of some sort to tell us whether it was clockwise or counterclockwise, someone snapped at me that "no one knows what clockwise and counterclockwise are!" Forgive me, but analog clocks aren't that ancient and forgotten. Everyone else I've talked to knows exactly what clockwise and counterclockwise are. *sigh*
And the moral of the story is: I cannot study because I only wind up ranting at technicalities and why they should be wrong even though I don't need to study that fact. Am I studying now? No, I'm ranting.

That's all. Technicality-based geek rant. Sorry to bore anyone. :P

~Kara

(creative pun-based title) with a song at the end ♪ ♫

Am I overloading you with college-related rants yet? No? Well, give me another chance.

I watched V for Vendetta early this morning. (like, 11pm last night through this morning) with one of my wingmates. Two others begged out because they had homework, but made it clear they wished they could watch with us. Partially disproving Katie's theory that conservatives don't understand and cannot like that movie, I'm probably the only liberal person here, but it's still pretty popular.
And I'm honestly baffled why it's so popular. As I said, I watched it with someone on my wing - she's in between someone I would call an acquaintance and someone I would call a friend. And EVERY scene I liked and remembered from last time I watched it, she squirmed at. I'm not sure why she was so excited if she hated the best parts of the movie. I mean, Valerie's whole story gets to me every time. The first time I saw it, I was in tears during her coming-out scene. I'm terrified my parents will do the same, and I feel for her. Despite the terrible ending she faced, Valerie's autobiography was basically my favorite part of the movie... Fortunately I was texting Katie, and looked up at the end of the coming-out scene, too late for it to emotionally hit me; by the time Valerie met Ruth and they kissed, and remember this is a fairly tame kiss by Hollywood standards especially for a movie with a relatively old intended audience, my wingmate freaked. "Oh, gross!" I hope she didn't notice me wince at that, or if she did notice, I hope she assumed that I was also upset by the movie, not by her comment. Similarly, she freaked out at the scene at the end where V slaughtered everyone as they tried to reload their guns. That's one of my favorites for the effects they included, but evidently that much blood (which is nothing compared to Sweeney Todd, another movie I like) was just too disgusting to look at. I think we agreed that both scenes with explosions were fantastically done, as well as when the dominoes fell and made his signature Ⓥ, but I've fixated strongly on her reaction to a tame lesbian kiss.
Why? Well, in case it's not obvious, I'm dating a girl and I definitely felt attacked by that repulsion. Valerie and Ruth did not make out. They were not kissing until neither could breathe, they did not try to immediately get inside each others' pants like in some movies. (And this is an R movie, a lot more could have been shown without affecting the rating.) Sure, it was longer than a quick peck, but it was just a kiss. Chick flicks show much more involved kisses, ones which often involve exchanging saliva and grabbing insatiably onto each other, and I can almost guarantee you she would like that. That would not be "gross." What girl doesn't like watching a happy couple make out on screen, vicariously sharing their happiness? (I mean, I don't like chick flicks, but sometimes I still enjoy watching a couple kiss, especially tamely like that. Movies make it seem so artistic...) So it's not that a kiss is too crazy for my conservative "friend" to see. It's the fact that two girls seem to like each other and suddenly ALL SYSTEMS ARE OVERLOADED, THAT IS HORRIBLE. It was a harsh attack, and she doesn't even know it hurt me. It would be worse if she knew, even if it meant she toned down her (verbal) homophobia for my benefit, because then I would be judged directly too.
I tried to mention it to someone else, (one of the others that would have watched VfV with us if it weren't for homework) that it was weird watching that movie with different groups of people I tried to ask what someone might see in the parts of the movie that I didn't think were spectacular that could still draw that level of adoration for the movie, and then I realized that I can't just say "I'm liberal, and I liked the scenes with gay people even though they died, because I'm gay and I can relate, but I don't know what you see when you don't like that." I can't say that, or my nonconformity is right back in the spotlight, encouraging people to judge me. That was the beginning of a long downward spiral today as I realized just how much I am repressed, how I cannot be myself, and that I don't belong.

Some of you who know me might realize this, but to anyone else, let me just say that it would be an understatement to assert that being "gay" is just the tip of the iceberg of reasons people here (well, Christians anywhere) would judge me, reasons I don't fit in. I can't be myself here, because at best I will be scolded for my "life choices" and I don't want to try to guess what the worst would be.
People are loving when it comes to "everyday struggles" like homework or not getting enough sleep, and they generally seem to care about everyone they meet, but that doesn't mean that if I were to come out, it would just be accepted. No, I would be treated like an addict. I would be stigmatized, and people would ask if my "gayness" was "getting better" to check in with me as though it were a problem, not realizing that such a question is an insult. I don't choose to like girls. I don't choose to like boys. I recognize physical attraction to people, and I recognize when I'm crushing on someone. Both are rare, but they've happened often enough that I can recognize them. I can't control it. Sure, I can choose to act on it or not, and I keep that in check. That's why I don't even flirt with anyone other than Katie, because I'm not the cheating sort. But the fact that I'm not just a hormone-driven animal does not mean that I want to break up with her if anyone ever realizes I'm dating a girl, just to make them happy or more comfortable or proud of me. I like who I like, I love who I love, and no one can change my mind for me. I want the right to marry the person I love, or to make a stupid decision and marry a person I think I love, just like anyone else. I want my perfect wedding just like any other girl.
I don't want to be told "oh, you can't date that person because she was born with two X chromosomes." That's as bad as racism. People have told me that people can decide their own orientation, it's "not like racism because you can choose who you like." Well, most people fall in love with someone of their own race, the opposite gender. Some people fall in love with people from a different race, which used to be stigmatized, and some people fall in love with people of the same gender, which is still stigmatized. Don't tell me it's different, because it's really the same issue underneath. I cannot choose my chromosomes, nor the parts my body has, no more than I can choose my skin color. Nor can anyone else.
But no one here will recognize that. Here, there's just an understanding that "everything the bible says is relevant to everyone's lives, and strict conservative morals, preferably straight from the bible, are the best." And in several places the bible seems to indirectly say "don't be gay," but never directly. (But that's too long a tangent for now.) Well, I'm sorry, but I was already fighting a faith crisis before I came here, and nothing has helped. If anything, it's gotten worse and I've gotten more antagonistic. I don't want the bible thrown in my face, I've grown up in the church, so chances are, I've heard the verse before. I want to be listened to, to be treated as a person even if I reveal that I disagree with much of the moral code here.

I have a feeling I'm being redundant and boring you all, so I'm going to cut it off there and give you a song quote that ironically sums everything up at the moment.

All I know is I'm not home yet. This is not where I belong...

The irony is that it's a Christian worship song. But the sentiment holds despite my twisting it out of context. I do not belong here. This is not home. I wonder when I'll feel at home anywhere.

Until next time
~Kara

Oh yes, by the way. Why can't my birthday be a few months earlier? I want to vote tomorrow, and I'm "too young". I'm in college. Whoever is elected and their policies will affect me after I graduate and enter the working world before I'm allowed to vote regarding the presidency. That makes a lot of sense. But whatever. I guess since I'm just a child, I cannot make my own decisions. I cannot be trusted to make intelligent decisions. Of course. It's all so clear now. That fits wonderfully with my self image of a good student, I won't have to modify either idea in order to accept them both.

Okay, now I've become cynical. I'll just shut up now. /endrant

I should be doing homework

I should, but I'm not. I can't quite focus on homework because I'm antsy and upset. (and tired, but that's beside the point.) So you wonderful, patient readers get another dose of ranting-Kara. Much less angry than last time.

I don't know what it is, but I've been feeling very alone lately. Okay. That's misleading. I know exactly what the problem is. I'm a pansexual girl in a conservative environment with an eroded support structure.
Because seriously, what support do I have? Well, there's a not-quite gay-straight alliance here, and even though the structure and community within that group is comforting and very safe-place-ish. But that meets infrequently, and I don't know anyone from there enough to contact them and suggest hanging out. I mean, I've basically just met the group once. I have a few friends from at home, but only about two of them that I'm close enough to that we keep in contact now that I'm at college, and both consistently take weeks to respond to messages I send because they're at least as busy as I am, and presumably not desperate for friendly human contact. I text Kat about everything, of course, but she's usually (rightfully) stressed about her own life issues. Workplace stress, family issues... It's not as cathartic as I'd like when I can vent to her because then I feel guilty when she becomes sympathetically stressed about my issues as well as her own. Besides, all our commiserating eventually degenerates into "I miss you!" which adds yet more negativity. Long term relationships are such fun like that...
Other people who promise to listen and not judge (online, where I can be anonymous and spill everything that's bothering me, hopefully to a sympathetic audience, but able to cut my losses if I'm unlucky) still wind up preaching at me, and when I bring up examples, I only seem to get comments on "that logic got lost between Point A and Point B" or "that metaphor isn't valid," which sure feels like I'm being judged. I would probably grudgingly accept specific things pointed out, like where the logic got sidetracked, or reflections on specific comments. But that vagueness feels like a thinly disguised, "you're wrong and I'm trying hard not to tell you straight up that you're wrong because I don't want to seem mean." Yes, my school offers free counseling to students, and we have been assured that we can talk about little issues or big ones, they're there to listen and help. But I still can't get past the fact that I will be defined by my problems. Going to a counselor implies problems, the focus is fixing problems, and they don't know me outside the context of my problems. I just don't like the idea of that, even if a counselor might be a good listener. They're not my peers, so it would be much harder to develop a sort of friendship where we hang out and respect each other outside the context of a counselor-counselee relationship. I'm also not sure I want to hear or follow the advice I'm likely to be given at a Christian counseling center, which will boil down to "how can we convince you to be straight so it's not a problem?"
What I really need is someone here to trust and be truly close to. Someone to whom I can rant and feel listened to, who can give me a hug when the world is unfair. But I don't trust people enough yet. Even when I trust them to be honest or consistent, I don't trust them not to freak out if I come out or admit to other issues, which I certainly have. Who doesn't? The one person I semi-came out to  (I said I was bi, since that's a more commonly understood term) needed a while to accept it. Days later, she was finally confident enough to ask awkward questions like "you don't... like me, do you?" I don't want to burden her with my problems, since a simple coming out was rough enough. And I suspect a lot of people here will respond the same way at best.
Have I missed anyone? Who am I supposed to turn to? I mean, I've got you blog readers, and I can feel like I'm telling the world and imagine any number of sympathetic replies, but in reality, probably four people will read this all the way through, maybe one will be truly upset on my behalf, and no one will comment or teleport here to give me that hug.

~LonelyKaraIsAlone


Yes, by the way, I know I chose to be here. I love my college. It's just like any other part of life: good and bad, and the bad gets more publicity than the good.

Watch Your Words... They Matter More Than You Think

May I rant for a moment?
...Well, it's my blog, so get over it.

I know it's been a while since I've posted. I've been out of town and busy, and all sorts of lame excuses. Oh yeah, and packing for college.

ANYWAY. I'm at college now *insert chorus of cheers and groans* and I actually like it. Mostly. See, my issue is I came to a private Christian college. I came here, knowing their stance on homosexuality parallels my mother's, fortunately with disapproval more than hatred. I would say the standard loosened, except I had to sign a "covenant" that, among other things, I would not participate in "homosexual behavior." So it's a little strict, but not cruel with an anti-gay attitude. Whatever. Kat being transgender, I can stretch the truth and still say I have a boyfriend, so no one has come after me yet. She tolerates it. We survive. No one's hateful, so I thought.

And I got proven wrong. I was looking forward to the topics covered in Foundations of Christian Thought throughout the year because the teacher promised we would look into Christianity as a worldview and examine it for flaws, not just examine the others and point out their flaws. So I know it's not extremely, irrevocably biased. This is the class that has a discussion group associated with it to really get us thinking about what's being taught, so it sinks in, and we can similarly judge other worldviews than the ones we talk explicitly about in class. It sounds like a fantastic premise, right? Right. The premise is fine. The class is interesting, sorta. We have to read novels for it, starting with one I already knew I liked by C.S. Lewis.
The teacher, though, has been dropping homophobic comments in all the classes I've been to, all semester. Not the first one, where we watched a video of him introducing himself and got out half an hour early, but all three of the full-length classes. Today's was the worst, the most direct, when he finished a tangent with "... And when you learn about the problems in a gay person's brain, you can be sympathetic." Excuse me? The problems with my brain? My mother might have accused me of being slightly autistic, but that problem has NOTHING to do with my being pansexual. There is NOTHING wrong with my brain. This teacher is a homophobic idiot who doesn't realize that he might be insulting a student or someone close to them when he says such things. Even before I admitted I liked girls on occasion, some of my funniest, best-to-hang-around friends were gay. My best friend likes girls more than guys. I would have gotten uncomfortable on their behalf because of that statement, even if I was comfortably straight.
The problem with him insulting me is that I am far less inclined to take him seriously. He exaggerated his example of how worldviews can be more right or more wrong than others (a 14 year old wanting to go to prom with a 60-year old purple-faced axe-murderer, and her mother being concerned about the pairing) so that no one would be offended ("I resemble that remark"); why would he choose such a modern example of a "problem" to have, when it's already controversial in the world?
That's the issue, isn't it? "In the world." We're wanting to be better than the world, we're starting with the assumption that all other people are wrong, even if we're not as extreme as the Amish at avoiding them. And since that covenant prohibits "homosexual behavior," obviously, no one at the school would lie or ignore it and be a closet homosexual. That's just beyond imagining. *gag* I think it's commonly understood that no one takes it as a strict set of rules. To quote multiple people from Pirates of the Caribbean, "they're more like guidelines than actual rules."

Maybe I'm overreacting. After all, a "one-minute paper" I had to write this morning was about that same covenant, and what, if anything, I would change. I went off on that same phrase, "homosexual behavior," tried to describe this video and came out to whoever happens to read my "paper" for on-subject-ness with the line "I am somewhere between bi- and pansexual, and since I don't choose to occasionally crush on girls, I hate having to deny it and fear judgment." I have no clue who, if anyone, will read it in detail, or if they will read the whole thing and come across that near the end (I wrote half a page; which is a lot more than the sentence or two most people write) so I was feeling very vulnerable about my sexuality already today. Perhaps it was just bad luck; a bad day for him to make such a directly derogatory statement, but that can't be changed now. I'm feeling insulted, angry, and rebellious. He may never know how badly I reacted to a, perhaps innocently intended, statement. But I will be critically analyzing every word he says for the rest of the semester. I'll be cautious. I'll be hesitant to believe anything he says without proof.
...Unfortunately, I will not directly express my rebellion, because I like to keep good grades, and I logically know I'll be even more pissed if I fail the class, lose scholarship money, (and still have to take it AGAIN because he's the only teacher of all the sections of that class, and it's required) just because I tried to boycott the class. I'd be the only one, so it would just be skipping, and I would only hurt myself. The logical half of my brain serves me well, even though it limits my options for expressing my disdain. But I've heard something about "course evaluations," which come at the end of semesters (and halfway through for the half-semester courses.) I don't know how they work, or what sort of questions are asked. But if there's any free-form space on the evaluation, I intend to be scathing, particularly if he continues making homophobic remarks EVERY SINGLE CLASS.

And in case he ever does stumble across my ranting and realize it's about him, I just want to ask: There's nothing wrong with my brain, so what other "facts" have you assumed and made up?

~Your absentee author, a furious Kara.


EDIT: Some afterthoughts.
You know, the teacher wasn't specifically homophobic today (9/13/12) but I was realizing. You know how a lot of people say homophobia is rooted in many homophobes' latent homosexuality, and they don't want gay people to "turn them gay"? Well, I'm sure there's a lot of religion mixed in as well, in this case; I'm certainly not accusing him of being a closet gay, but the theory isn't entirely off. When the teacher was talking about human purpose today, whenever his examples required caring what others thought about you, all of his examples were from the female perspective. (The best example is paraphrased here for you) "A declaration of worth depends on who says you're worthwhile. If you're at college and everyone avoids you and no one will talk to you and you call home and say 'Everybody hates me,' and your mom says 'oh, that's okay, sweetie. I love you,' it doesn't cheer you up much. But if those cute boys like you, well, that's a different matter."

Habitually, though, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. He's married, so he can't even seem to be interested in young college women in their prime, not even for such examples, or else he might have a jealous, worried wife to come home to..?

So I heard this story...

I was surfing online recently, and found this wonderful allegory. More people should read and consider it. I thought it was absolutely spot-on, but I'll leave it to you readers to judge.

By the way, I'm sorry I've been so quiet, guys... School's been insane. But maybe I'll be a little more talkative from here on? Or at least for a week or two before I disappear to summer camp...

In any case, I'm not dead. Not even close. I'm just quiet...

~Kara

(I like to imagine that in the world imagined below, chopsticks don't exist.)

Reposted with permission from the original author, Pyropractor

On Forks and Civil Liberties

Imagine that you live in a world where it's illegal to eat with a fork.
You're perfectly entitled to stab yourself with them. But eating with them is RIGHT OUT.
And all that's ever served to eat is rice, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, and things of that nature. People eat them with their fingers, or just shove their faces down over their plates, and it's perfectly normal. Normal, that is, for everyone you know... except you.
Your parents frown on you for this. Your mother says, "I dipped my very first fork in onion juice before I jammed it into my thigh. Hurt like the devil, but every time since then, it's been much easier!" Your father says, "You really should stab yourself a few times, you know, in visible places. Otherwise people are going to think you're a sissy."
You have a constant, gnawing pain from hunger; you're lightheaded a lot of the time. But everyone is Hollywood-thin, because there's only so much rice you can eat with your fingers before you give up. You don't even stab yourself with your fork, though everyone else does it, and happily, but you don't because you can't afford the blood loss.
But mostly you don't do it because... well, it's just so unpleasant, no matter what the rest of the world says.
So one day you're at your brother's wedding. Everyone is celebrating, stabbing themselves with their forks, mostly in their forearms. The bride and groom stab each other. One drunken bridesmaid pierces her cheek clean through. A perfectly ordinary way of celebrating this joyous occasion... and certainly you have no idea of the changes the day holds.
Your brother pulls you aside. "Listen," he says, pushing a box into your hands. "We've gotten way more forks today than we can possibly ever use. Take this set, from the Welby family. They look too blunt to get through clothing. Anyway, we never really liked them. Pretentious assholes," he adds, before returning to the bustling reception.
You peer through the clear plastic of the elegant white box at the tableware within. The tines of the forks do indeed appear blunt, with just a minimum of rounding. Why, it's as though these weren't designed for pushing their way through flesh at all! The handles are curved, like the side of a woman's torso, or an acoustic guitar. The stainless steel gleams at you, at once both challenging, and somehow... inviting.
You spy a champagne glass of sherbet on a nearby table. Suddenly, the idea comes to you. A daring idea. An IMPOSSIBLE idea. You saunter over to the table, glance around to see if anyone's looking, then sweep the glass up behind you , hiding it from the crowd, and return to the dark, quiet alcove leading to the hallway where the coat check room is. You steal a little further down the hall, just to be safe.
As quietly as possible, you open the box of tableware, heart pounding in your chest. With trembling hands, you remove a salad fork from the cardboard grooves in which it rests. The whole set glitters at you with forbidden promise, even in the feeble light here. You hold your breath, and finally, just do it. The tines of the fork glide smoothly into the sherbet, as though they were designed for that purpose alone. Your mind is filled with images of some old master craftsman from a small Italian village, whose skill at forging tableware has turned him into a brilliant, sought-after designer. You wonder if it was Enzo Ferrari back in 1929, when a sudden chill yanks you back to the present: you've actually done it! You ate sherbet with a fork!
And... it was delicious.
Not just because sherbet is fruity and sugary and sweet... but because you actually got a full bite's worth without getting it all over your face. The smooth edges of the utensil don't even cut your lips in passing. It just feels so... so right.
"WHAT in the HELL?!"
The moment is shattered at the sight of your brother's livid face. "What if somebody SAW..." He yanks the fork out of your hand and jams it mercilessly into your shoulder, and only then does he seem to relax at all. "There," he says, "now you can be seen."
The pain in your shoulder pierces your whole body. You feel it in the soles of your feet. It tugs at your every nerve, like a dull sawblade being dragged across ceramic. But it is nothing... nothing next to the pain you feel from having your first glimpse of freedom discovered and seen as a source of horror.
But it doesn't stop you. Oh, you show a respectable public face - a face showing four parallel scratches down from your temple to your chin. But at home... at home, when no one's watching... you eat with a fork.
And it is BLISS.
For the first time in as long as you can remember... you feel GOOD. You have the energy to walk up a flight of stairs without getting dizzy. That constant, nagging hunger is conspicuous by its absence. You even feel like you have some strength.
And people notice it in you. They ask if you'd gotten some good news, or won some money. You seem to be happier... walking prouder, standing taller.
But you can't tell them why.
No, your new discovery about yourself will always be a source of secret shame. And you wonder just how long you'll be able to keep that secret. If people found out... you'd probably lose your job, the respect of your family, hell, even the whole community.
You consider just telling them. Maybe just your family at first. Maybe they'll understand. "I just want to be able to eat with a fork," you'll say. And immediately you can imagine your father's rage, your mother's hysteria, your brother's embarrassment. "Why can't you just stab yourself with the bloody things like everyone else?!" your father would bellow. Your mother would look even more panicked, worried the neighbors will hear.
"I don't want to stab myself, Father," you'd reply.
And that would set him off again. "Look, he'd say, in what must be an attempt at restraint. "You can still have the forks, see? Just, you know... shove them through your skin! You shouldn't be looking for extra privileges with the things!"
**************
THAT is what I imagine gay people go through every day when conservatives tell them that the right to marry someone of the opposite sex should be enough for them, and that marrying the person they actually love is "extra rights."

Untitled (To Dad)

Dear Dad:

Did you ever stop to think for a moment that it was you that taught me to be who I am? That you were the one who preached acceptance, and showed me to accept everyone - except those who hurt others? That you were the one who taught me that anger DID get the job done, and proved it on several occasions - especially here, right at home?

Did you ever stop to think that maybe I'm beyond tired of you yelling and screaming at me for sometimes doing things like you - because you're the one who taught me to do it that way?

Did you ever stop to think that MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE THIS WAY? That maybe I'd rather just be some regular guy who DIDN'T care about everything so much? And that I wish SO HARD EVERY FREAKING DAY that it wouldn't affect me? Or that maybe - just maybe - I wish I wasn't a girl trapped inside of a male's body, having to fight EVERY SINGLE DAY not to want to DIE?

I fight as hard as I do because you showed me for a long time that if you want something, you have to fight for it. I thought that maybe you really did care about others and who they were, and that maybe, just maybe, you'd be willing to fight for them. I thought that you had tried to BREAK the cycle of what basically amounts to mental abuse in this family - by caring about us, and NOT doing it. Except that, looking back, I was wrong. You haven't broken the cycle. You've continued it. And you're continuing it even now.

I should not be sitting here writing this, crying so hard I can barely see the screen through the tears, because of you. Not when you tried to teach me what was right from wrong - and now you're just violating it.

I can't even have a civil fucking conversation with you because whenever I try to speak on something that's even remotely "hot", you just yell at me until I shut up and back down. And then when I sit there, looking you in the eye, listening to you, you say that I'm giving you attitude? No, old man. That is not attitude. That is a feeling of betrayal that you're seeing. You yell at me to grow up, and not be angry with things, because it doesn't do any good. Yet you're yelling. About not yelling - and not being angry. Something is wrong here. I hesitate to call you a hypocrite because it seems harsh, but you know what? It's true. You're being one. You've been one for a long time. And somehow, it's rubbed off on me - because I don't see it as wrong as I know that I should. I am a hypocrite too often, because it doesn't register in me nearly as fast as it should that I am being one. And the only reason I can think of that would cause that is that you have done it for so long that it passed on. I am trying to break myself of being a hypocrite, did you know? Of course you don't, because you don't bother to pay attention.

I want family time, where I don't have to worry about anything. Where I don't have to worry about what I wear, or what you will say, or what I say in front of you. I want to be open with you, and to NOT be angry. To NOT have to fight about stupid things, because you're being an ass about it.

Today, I call something bullshit, and you instantly bark at me to get the anger out of my voice. When I try to counter a little bit later with something, you fly off the handle and go rage-mode on me about anger - how it doesn't do anything. I'm sorry? Um? Your anger has pushed me over the edge. I've been teetering for the past three days - since Wednesday night - on that precarious edge, trying to BACK DOWN and force myself to calm out, but you really did push me over this time. And when I walked away to keep from being pushed over the edge the first time, you yelled at me to come back out there, so I did after another couple minutes. I sat down and started to eat the food that I had made while you were raging on me earlier, and you start in again on me. All soft like, almost as if you were trying to be civil, then you go ballistic. Again. About how I'm supposedly taking my anger out on you guys, about how I'm abusing YOU with it. And then telling me that I can shove my "attitude" up my ass, and I can get out if I don't - going to leave me homeless, huh? Thanks - and that you don't want to hear my "pissy crying". You want to know what put me over the edge? That abuse. Telling me that my pain and hurt was just pissy crying that doesn't matter, and that I am the one abusing you and mom. What...?

I'm sorry that you grew up with parents that gave you mental hell. I really, truly am. I'm sorry that you feel like you're being constantly abused by everybody else, and that you have to feel others' emotions too. I'm sorry that your job is hard, and that your bosses are assholes.

You know what? Grow up, old man. Realize that this is reality. Things aren't easy - and they aren't getting any easier. Yes, bosses are assholes. They had to climb up a slippery ladder and stab everybody else in the back to get where they are, in almost every case. So I'm sorry that you have to deal with that. But it's reality. You want me to deal with it? How 'bouts you deal with it too?

You have made me afraid to have my own children, for fear that I will do to them what you have done to me. Fear that I won't be able to raise them well without mentally hurting them - probably permanently - in the process. Fear that the only way to raise a good kid is... through fear. How fucked up is that? I kind of wonder if you even want grandchildren, because of the way you act towards your children.

I wish so badly that I didn't have to write this, but I don't know how else to say it, and I feel like I will explode if I don't get this out there. It hurts, old man. It hurts, a lot.

Hey, Dad. You want to know what the worst part is? You probably wouldn't want to know, but I'll say it anyway. It's the fact that I can never tell you any of this, and can never really tell you how it feels. And just how much it hurts. I love you, I really do. But right now... I hate you for what you do, as well.

Please... Please, just lay off me.

Love,
Your.... older child.

(I'm sorry that I had to put this here, but I don't know where else to put it. I know there have been a lot of "personal" posts up here lately, but it is a personal blog on top of other things... I'll see you guys later - don't hate me too much for this one. Until next time. Peace.)

....?

(Warning, probably a lot of use of the word "fuck".)

I just want to curl up in a ball right now. So hurt and angry and just... fuck.

What is so fucking hard about accepting me for who I fucking well am? I am your child, mom. I always have been, and I always will be. Why can you not accept that I don't feel like I'm supposed to look the way I do? Why can't you accept that I am transgender? You say it is because of society, but that is such a bullshit answer. You and dad fucking TAUGHT me and your younger daughter to be accepting of everyone no matter what, yet here you are and you can't even fucking accept your own child for who they are - and not who they look like?

Fucking hell. I want to curl up and cry. I feel like I'm losing reality, and I don't have anything to grab hold of and hang on to. My desk doesn't even help.

Why me? Why do I have to be transgender? Why can't I just be the fucking son, why is my brain fucked up like this? I don't really give a whole lot of a shit about what most of society thinks - society as a whole are fucktards - but there are a few people I do care what they think. My immediate family? They're one of them. After twenty years of being basically preached to about acceptance of others, I'm not accepted simply because of... Because I feel wrong? Because I'm NOT male? Because I want to be a girl on the outside instead - and on the inside, am one?

We grew up on non-religious. We grew up with tolerance and acceptance of others drilled into us. So WHAT is different about me that you can't tolerate and accept me? Is it because it's not some nameless, faceless person - it's your own child? I just don't even know what to think anymore. What am I supposed to think about you, when you won't accept me?

I've been trying to get a real answer for three months about why you are so... what, hesitant to believe? don't think it's true? Three fucking months, and no real fucking answer yet. The only answer I've gotten so far from you, mom, was that you were raised in the catholic church and it was wrong there - and that it isn't accepted by society. And when I asked you tonight if that's why you didn't accept me - because society won't accept me as a whole - you deflected and just said that if I wanted to talk about it I had to talk to both you and dad at the same time. You've always been the one that I can come to with shit like this - and now, now... when I need your acceptance... I don't get it. Because of society - and your upbringing, which you have shaken? Something... Something does not make sense here.

I don't know what's so hard for you to realize. That this is REAL. That I'm not just making this up, that it's not just some perverse game. Will you believe it if the Psychiatrist says it's true? Then will you believe me? Will you accept me then?

Why do I have a feeling that you still won't accept me, even through that? What about this is so fucking hard? I am still your child! That isn't going to change! Why can't I be your daughter instead of your son though? We've all known for a long time that I'm not normal - in many different ways - and it's shown through the entire time I was growing up. We just didn't know to what extent the insanity ran.

Need a hug. Need Kara here. Something. Fighting tears and just... not in a good place.

There is no peace for me right now.

Help?

Carry On

Sinus infection went away. Persistent bastard. Allegra, Sudafed, Tylenol, Mucinex, plus the antibiotic. Was quite happy to be rid of it.

Never did end up getting back down to the tornado disaster zone, unfortunately. Wish I could have done more...

Ended up spending a few hours with Kara that Friday afternoon, and then a few more hours later that evening. Amazing, mostly. I love that girl. She makes me so happy... I've seen her (almost) every day for the past few weeks, which is good, all things considered. I won't have almost any time with her next week, then summer is basically shot, and probably fall too. We'll see how it goes. Fighting to get as much time with her as possible before that happens.

That Friday also went awesome in another way - I got the A/V job! I am now working at a hotel, doing the Audio and Visual side of things. I've already racked up a fair number of hours, and done my first big build - which is amazing. I can't really post pictures, but suffice to say: If our team gets creative license, then watch out world! It turns out amazingly. I'm even getting paid a reasonable amount of money this time around. Even though I'm "temporary" - more like part time - I'm still getting a good amount of hours. Only... well, not really bad, not interesting, just... eh part of the job are the random hours. This past weekend, I went in at 06.30 Saturday morning, worked until 16.30, then went in Sunday from 17.30 until 22.30 (Sunday was the big build). And then I turned around and worked at 07.00 on Monday. The only other part of the job that is even halfway annoying is the fact that I have to wear a suit for work, seeing as how we meet with clients on a constant basis. I don't mind it - wearing a suit certainly makes me feel like a badass - but it means I have to find good suits. So far, it's been going to Goodwill and finding good two piece suits with the help of one of my best friends - that man has an eye for fashion - and matching it with shirts and ties. I probably need to get a couple real suits, but that's shelling out some serious money there. Stick to Goodwill for the time being, I guess. Oh well.

I still have yet to call the Medical insurance company. I need to do that! Grah. Been so busy with work and school and hanging out with Kara that I just haven't really thought about it, much less done it. But seriously, I need to... My body isn't right, and it bugs me. But I want to be able to go to a psychologist where Kara can go with me at least once, so I don't feel like I'm going in there alone... But that means either going on one of her days off, or a weekend, and I don't know many - if any - psychologists that are open on the weekend. I need to figure it out...

Dear GAWD, I need to shave tomorrow afternoon. My legs look like woolly freaking mammoths. Toooo much body hair! Drives me nuts. That, and a day without shaving, I have definite face stubble issues. It's driving me nuts. Wish estrogen could do something about face hair, but it won't... and of course the laser hair removal is EXPENSIVE! Grahhhh. So much about all this is expensive... drives me nuts! Welcome to life though, right?

So, a couple days ago, I went to visit my old mentor, and he told me about a second-hand store that had a few server racks - and servers still in them! - there. I went over to that store and bought three Dell PowerEdge servers, plus a Cisco Catalyst 2900. For A HUNDRED BUCKS. We're talking over three thousand dollars worth of gear, and I got it for a hundred dollars. How does this happen? Second hand stores for the win!! But yeah. Gonna set one of the servers up as a dev server, hopefully give one to dad as an early b-day present for his virtual stuff, and use one as a file server or something... I'll see how they run. I seriously need a day off though to tackle them, and I don't know when that'll be anytime soon... Between school and work. Heh. Oh well! I'll figure it out. I still have to figure out where I'm going to put my servers - not like I have much space in my room! - and we don't really have a whole lot of space in the entire house. I'd like to get in on a co-op or something, but that takes money that I currently don't have.

I need to yank the graphics card out of my old box and put it in my current box though, because the one in my current box is dying, it sounds like... I think the fan on it is going to hell. Either way, I need to fix that soon - especially if I want to stay active in SecondLife. I'll figure it out and make it work - I always do in the end...

Anyways. Sorry about the random jumping around in this post. More of a train-of-thought than anything. It's 0.18 though. I'm tired, and my brain really isn't wanting to work. Not to mention having to get up in five and a half hours... Oh yay.

Until next time.

Peace.

..... Sinus Infection? Really?

Fucknuggets!

I have a sinus infection! Doctor told me on Monday. I've been on meds since and doing better, but it's still taking its toll. Tired constantly, coughing, irritable.... Hungry! Don't forget hungry. And on top of it all, I CAN'T FREAKING TYPE. I think in the past paragraph, I've managed to misspell so many words I've lost track... This stupid infection has basically had me stuck at home for the past few days, to boot.

I haven't really been able to go down to the tornado disaster zone, either. I've managed to go down there twice total - last Wednesday and Friday. And it's really frustrating. I posted about last Wednesday, but didn't get around to Friday. I went down Friday morning, got to the Fire Station, and they assigned me to a section. I went out, trying to find it, and managed to get lost (of course). Twenty minutes later, I ended up back at the station and they gave me the correct directions - as the road signs were down - and this time I managed to get to the correct location. Got there, and just... I don't know. Damage. Huge amounts of damage. The tornado just cut a path of destruction and left almost nothing standing. One house was literally missing everything except two outside walls and an inside one. Another house had the siding basically stripped off the side of it. Talking with the person who owned the house that had been almost completely demolished revealed that there had been four barns - and none of them even appeared from where I was standing. Originally, I'd been out there to help out, but there was nothing really to do. The plan came down to simply "bulldoze it and burn it" then start completely over. I talked with them for a bit longer then headed back to the fire station, where they had me make runs around the county taking water and other supplies to different places. Naturally, in the course of these runs, I met a fair number of people, and all of them were just... how do you describe it?

Nobody had completely given up, but some were close, and some were just depressed... Nobody had anything really clear. But everybody was resigned. Nobody was really in denial about what happened - it seems logical that way, but emotions don't work like that...

It's a mess. I want to do more, but I can't right now, and it's scary to see all the damage.

Anyways. I'm on a steady diet of sudafed and pain killers, trying to get rid of allergy headaches and crap, and I've been hacking up a storm. I think the sinus infection is finally receding - it's Thursday - but I'm still having all the issues I mentioned before. Irritable is barely covering it, too, in some cases. Right before dinner tonight, my dad and I just started almost-yelling at each other over who knows what, and it took me until we were both basically saying "shut the fuck up" to each other (me under my breath) to realize that both of us were majorly irritable already. Damned sinuses. And of course, today has been really wet, which hasn't helped with crap in the air. So, I'm just not in good shape.

Tomorrow is a day off for the public school district, so I'm going to hopefully spend a good chunk of time with Kara, as well as job hunting. A friend's dad works at one of the hotels / convention centers in the area, and he's looking for an A/V person. That's me! Hopefully he'll call me up and we can get together and chat - and let me get a look around and feel for the place. It'd be an awesome job, as it is part time and can work around my school schedule. Tomorrow should be good. Pissed off my sister, too, because apparently she was planning on stealing the car for the day or whatever - denied!

It's spring break. I would, of course, spend my spring break basically at the house feeling like shit. Pretty much fitting...

Monday, I found out a pretty damned amazing piece of news - I have health insurance under my parents still. Do until I'm twenty five or twenty six. Meant I could go to the doctor, get the meds, and actually try and fix this stupid mess of allergies. I also talked to the doc while I was there about my gender "dysphoria". He told me he actually has a couple of patients that are transgender / transsexual, and he told me to call my insurance company and find out what in-network psychologists handle gender dysphoria, so that I can start actually moving on stuff. He looked at me and said, if it's wrong, it needs to be fixed. I don't think that there's much more I can say beyond the fact that the Doctor said so that will convince my parents to actually let me start figuring this out beyond just... wearing female clothing alone or somewhat in public.

I'm with the Doc though. I need to figure out what's going on and try to "fix" it... whatever fixing really is. So, I should probably call the insurance company tomorrow or Monday. Mental health is a.... touchy subject.

Not really much else to say. If I remember something in my sinus-induced state, I'll probably edit or start writing a new post.

Until next time.

Peace.

There are no words....

This past Friday, tornadoes ripped through our state. Monday morning, the headlines in the local rag (paper) were of volunteers who went down to help clean up the messes. I looked at my parents and said, I need to do this. They both simply said, "okay". Tuesday - yesterday - I started doing research. Stonewalled, mostly... Couldn't find anything online really telling me where I could volunteer to help. Finally, ended up calling the county court. They redirected me to a fire station, which I then called. They gave me the information I needed, and told me to be there this morning. This county is about an hour and a half, give or take, from my house. Seventy or so miles. (Blame road work and back roads for slowness.) I drove in, hauling a fair amount of butt, and went to the school where volunteers were being directed. Asked what needed to be done. Ended up at the other school, where I spent the day moving water, boxes of clothes, food, supplies... Everything. It was amazing how much had been donated. A semi load had shown up... yesterday? with a bunch of gear in it, and it'd all be unloaded and began to be sorted. By the end of the day today, the gym, which had been amazingly full this morning, was almost completely empty. We had so many truck loads to the different distribution points in the community that I lost track.

My entire body is sore.

Friday, probably Saturday, and all through next week, I'm going to go down there to help out. Try to help these people... get back on their feet. Hopefully. All through today, I'd talk to some random person, and the typical "hey, how're you" "fine, how're you" kind of talk would be exchanged. Yet... I was overwhelmed by emotions. These people are hurting in a huge way. They don't show it - I only saw a single tear shed all day at the school - but it's there, just beneath the skin. It only took a few minutes of talking for the man speaking to shed that tear, but... It's there. Most of these people have barely slept in the past five days, yet they're still doing everything they can. Even through everything, these people are strong. Stronger than I could ever possibly imagine... But the pain is still there. I knew it was going to happen - I knew I'd feel it, see it... I just didn't expect the sheer amount. My emotions literally shut down within the first two hours from being overwhelmed.

These people have had natural disasters occur to them before. They are no stranger to the pain, the anger, the fear of them. They know how to respond, how to get moving, how to make things happen, and how to get things back into shape. They're still hurting though, even though they try to hide it behind the "this has all happened before, it'll all happen again" mentality.

There are no words when a disaster like this strikes. I had no idea what to tell anybody today when it came to talking about it. I mean, what can you say? "I'm sorry." What's that even mean in a situation like this? We're talking about people who have lost their homes, their vehicles, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Right now, I can't even fathom that. The only thing that can really be done is to trek on, to try to make the best of the situation and repair things as best as possible - even if it doesn't seem like there's anything to repair. These people trek on, even though there were at least two deaths in their county, so much loss...

I wish I knew what to say to people after things like this happen. I've lost people before. More than I'd care to admit to anybody else, much less to myself. This is the second time in a week that I have had no words for a situation.

Earlier this week - Tuesday morning - my sister looks at me as she's getting ready to go to school and tells me that her best friend's older sister committed suicide the night before. I had heard many good things about this girl, and it left me rather shell shocked. After my sister walked out the door, my mom came back and hugged me, because that's all we could do... There just were no words. What do you say to somebody when they found out they lost one of their friends to them taking their own life?? I haven't managed to figure out what to say, still, and I've gone through this too many times myself. There's no good way to comfort people in these situations.

On top of all of this... I learned a couple things today that I'm not so sure I wanted to know. Although, it makes it easier to know where to put our money... Red Cross are a bunch of assholes. All I'm gonna say. And FEMA are too, but we knew that. People, if you're going to donate your money to someplace where it'll actually be useful, try to find out if a local bank (local to the disaster area) has set up a fund, and if there hasn't, try to find out through the local courts, government offices... Churches, even, and I rarely will say that. Still more likely to get the money to the actual problem, as opposed to just paying employees. I'm dead serious about this.

*Sigh.*

I want to see these people quit hurting so much, which is why I'm planning on going back down there as much as I can over the next week. I have class tomorrow, so I can't go then, but beyond that... next week is Spring Break. So definitely going down to the county as much as I can.

I wish I had the answers. I really do.

Until next time.

Peace.

Rant 2

Day later. Yesterday is over - yesterday evening went incredibly. New day.

Began okay. Called Kara when I woke up, we talked for a while, got out of bed. Got down to the church about eight minutes later than I meant to, which meant that I had no time to check our the sound gear to make sure everything was functional. Go figure, of course, it wasn't.

Chalk up another piece of gear we need - another direct box. We currently have two, except one of them - the one that, of course, needs a battery replaced - decided that upon trying to replace the nine volt battery, part of the battery plug broke, meaning that I couldn't actually replace the battery. This is causing the direct box to short out and basically be a bitch. As a hack, we grabbed an amp, hooked the bass up to the amp, then ran the output from the amp into the direct box, and from there into the snake. It's a powered amp, which means it put through a hell of a lot of volume even down extremely low. I expected this, but not as much as we got. I had to adjust a lot to make it all work. On top of it, our lead guitarist was bitching at me the entire fucking time because things weren't working. So instead of getting my job done quickly and letting them get on with their fraking practice, instead I had to respond to him bitching. Just... ugh.

Then, turn around and talk to the pastor. He still hasn't read my bloody report - the one I wrote a week ago and have had up on dropbox since - the one reasoning out exactly why we need two thousand dollars to upgrade everything. So, instead of reading the report, he simply looks at me and asks how much it's going to cost. I tell him, straight out, and he looks at me with a look of almost disgust and says, "That's too much! You need to run stuff like that by me first!" Actually? Interestingly? No. You aren't one with all the power. The finance committee are the ones who make the final call. They have the report. They are the ones who make that call. Not you. I have a lot of damned good reasons in that report as to why we need this gear. Right now, I'm having to keep from calling the pastor an asshat on top of everything else...

It made for a very nasty service, and I was texting with Kara for half of it. She got the brunt of my emotions, therefore, which I don't like doing, but at least she can back me up on it all. That girl makes me the happiest person ever... and that takes work, seeing as it's me we're talking about. But even so, she barely managed to cheer me up, and I still wanted to just leave the church and not look back, ever. Unfortunately, that's not the first time I've had that want, either. Second or third, at the least. I don't know what else to do.

We need this gear. I have made it clear, and I don't know how much more I have to say to make it crystal. I'm not saying we need to use two grand to use two grand. No. I'm saying it because that's what we need to accomplish several goals. Not to mention... Pastor, you just had a new projector put up, which must have cost us at least a grand to do - between gear and labor? - must have cost a fair amount. And you're telling me that two grand is to much when we need it to upgrade a lot more than a single projector! Maybe you should have read the fraking report instead of just looking at me with that look of disgust and saying it's too much. We don't make calls like "I want to live stream all the services from this campus" without realizing that it's going to cost money. I told you that ahead of time, I thought I made it clear. Apparently not. I even gave a time frame in the report saying how to spread out the cost, so as to not need to do it all at once. But since you haven't read the report, how could you know that, much less know what it is? It's one thing to shoot holes in something after reading it. It's entirely another to not even bother to read something then knock it over - or for that matter using it to bash others...

Hmm, I can see an analogy in there to Christians as a whole... Right, where's that frying pan coming from and why's it aimed at my head...?

Anyways.

I keep track of a few facebook pages, one of which is Wipeout Homophobia on Facebook. The admin of that page posts images constantly, and other stuff. A spin off of it is Wipeout Transphobia on Facebook, and TForm. I, being who I am, of course support both fully. I have seen a lot of images on there of a man kissing another man in front of a bunch of anti-gay marriage protestors, two very burly men holding hands, etc. Used to make me feel a lot better, constantly, but now... Meh. Images. People being people. Love is love. Why can't people understand that? If there is really any god up there, or whatever, and it created humans in its image, then that means that it was either gay, or at least bi-curious... I mean, damn. According to all these different bibles, god was / is perfect. Um. Sure! Whatever you say. But if its perfect, then why do we have all these gay people running around? Mutations? If nothing else, that proves evolution theory. Bitches. But no. Going by the theory of creationism, we were just instantly created, and haven't changed since. Um... sure! Whatever you say.... That means that gay people were created in the process. So. What does that tell you? Something tells me that these people really have no idea what they're talking about - proven on a daily basis, unfortunately - and are fundamentally wrong. It is enough to drive others up a wall, across the ceiling, down the opposite wall, then up the perpendicular wall.

Yeah, I just did that.

I tried to believe in god. I really did. I tried to believe in the christian god. I prayed, more than once in my life. About random things. What got me though, was when I started to lose friends. To suicide. To car wrecks. These were kids - teenagers my age, friends. How can I believe in god after all that? How could any god take the life of a teenager - somebody who has so much to live for, who is trying to make a difference? I heard somebody tell me after the second car wreck that they needed them in heaven or whatever. I don't talk to that person anymore. How could a parent outlive their child? Yet I saw it happen four, five times in high school. How many more? I don't even know. Two of those were suicides - how could any loving god let that happen? I can't believe that. I cannot believe that there is a god out there who would let that happen. After that second car wreck, after my friend died, I quit believing. I no longer can believe. Whenever I tell a believer that, they give me a weird look, to boot...

Moving on.

Things to be fixed. Too much. Need a break from this insane world.

Until next time.

Peace.

Rant 1

I want to rant, but I don't even know where to begin or what to say. It just feels so futile to even fight anymore, whatever it is I'm fighting for. 'Course, this probably has something to do with the job hunt, but I don't know... I also just finished reading the news on /., so that probably doesn't help... News just gets me down. Never really reporting on anything good, or happy out there. Where to start?

Yesterday, I called the General Manager at the place that I thought I had a good shot at getting the job at, only to find out that the position was either filled, or Corporate just said no. Or maybe that I'm not good enough. You know. Enough to just... I was so fucking close, and boom, nothing. Again. This whole search feels so bloody pointless, and it's even worse as of recent -- everybody seems to be hiring, but they aren't hiring me. Go figure, right?

Also yesterday, I went into the church. We recently started setting the stage (see what I did there?) to get live streaming functioning in our church - to stream a video and audio feed to the outside world, through the 'net. I put in a recommendation / proposal to the finance committee of the church, and have yet to hear anything back yet. On top of it, the church admin bought the camera the other day, and then yesterday, without even talking to me about it, promised our pastor that they would try to stream live Monday. Monday!! Okay. At best, our network is going to LAUGH AT THEM. At worst? It'll melt down the entire network and take a good chunk of our (admittedly shitty) computers with it. And then, as soon as I can talk to her about it, she gets another call, and she and the assistant pastor kick me out of the office for a conference call. This call lasted another forty five minutes before I just gave the hell up and left. When -- if -- they ping me on Monday, I'm probably just going to ignore it. I told them what we needed and what would happen, and I was ignored... And of course, I may still end up going in anyway. On top of the fact that our network can't handle it, I haven't had ANY time to work on setting up a computer to handle the broadcasting. How do they plan on streaming without a computer to broadcast? Not to mention, how are they planning on getting audio from the board to the broadcast computer? I already put in the report saying what we need to make it work. Has anybody listened? Nope. Speaking of everything feeling absolutely fraking futile. I wrote that report because I still know what I'm talking about more than anybody else who has stepped forward in that church. (That is to say - um, one other person knows anything close to me, and he still doesn't know much.)
/*Disclaimer: I am a networking major. I worked at an IT company for seven months, and before that, four years in a high school, doing a fuckton of work. When I say that I know what I'm talking about, I'm not saying that to sound egotistical - it's the simple fact when it comes to the church.*/
When Monday comes and everything just... completely fails? It isn't my fault. Don't blame me. I already told you guys what I know, and I'm pretty sure it's fraking accurate. In fact, I turned around and asked somebody who's been doing this for another twenty years longer than me, and he agreed with my findings!

Frak. Just frak. Is what I say just that... easily ignored?

I mentioned in my last blog, I believe, about being an empath, and the fact that I basically have lost one of the two people I can turn to. I talked to her again, later that night, through text - hell of a lot harder to convey anything across it, much less emotions. Didn't do... shit all good. Told her a situation, and just... blah. Didn't help at all. She just told me that I needed to learn to rely on myself for help. Um. Okay. Hold up a sec. WHATTHEFUCK. If I turned to her everytime I needed somebody to vent to, or to ask for help or advise, I'd call her at least once every couple days. No. I called her TWICE in a month because I needed her advise, or at least for her to listen to me, because I was freaking the frak out. Neither time did she return my call, or even ask what was wrong - instead, the second time, I get a text, a day and a half after I asked for her to talk to me, saying how she can't be there all the time, much less every day, and just... fuck. It hurts that I'm willing to drop everything for somebody who I consider to be a friend and who needs somebody to turn to, yet one of the people I thought I could turn to just... won't help. And the other has more than enough of her own problems, and she gets even less sleep than me. Which leaves me with nowhere to turn -- even the internet does no good. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I just care too fraking much about everyone. Yeah, that's.... perfect.

Something else that's been kind of getting to me lately -- I'm a Unitarian - or Humanist - whatever - who's working at a Methodist church. But I'm not doing it to serve god or jesus or whatever... I'm doing it to further myself as a tech - sound and audio wise - and to be able to be in a community of people, where I'm appreciated by at least some of them. The other day, my Pastor thanked me - on my Facebook wall - for my service. To a certain level, it's appreciated, and then on another level, it was majorly frustrating, because of the lurking thought that he was thanking me more for my service to "god" or whatever as opposed to the people of our community. I'm not doing what I do for some non-existent being, I'm doing it for the other people around me, and for my own further (professional and personal) development. Problem is.... The two grand we need to upgrade the systems like we need them is... going to barely be noticeable by the people I'm trying to "serve". At the same point, some people will appreciate it, because it'll make certain things possible that weren't before. Not to mention... who doesn't want a faster network? Not to mention, the ability to set up a guest network that anybody can connect to within the church? (Going to find a way to shut it down out of hours though.)

I know I mentioned it before, and you guys are probably tired of hearing about it, but I'm tired of having to hide, on top of everything. I have to hide who I am in the church - have to be this "masculine male dude" who isn't me. I can't be partially girl, because guess what, in the church.... That just isn't allowed. I wish it was. I wish so hard that I could just go my Pastor and say, "Man, I'm transgender. I want to start expressing that here," and it just not matter. Except if I did, I have a feeling I wouldn't be allowed to continue to go there, much less voluntarily "serve" in the position I currently do. And even if I was allowed to continue to go there, I somehow doubt anybody would actually welcome me. I'm currently opened with... well, mostly open arms, but if I became who I truly was in there, I somehow doubt it'd continue that way. And besides church, I have to hide from so many others. My own family, I can't really be who I am in front of my dad, because it disturbs him. Every time I go out in public, I'm not really worried about some random stranger noticing, but more along the lines of somebody I have to deal with and interact with consistently. For instance - Kara's parents. Or somebody from the church who I work with directly or know directly. Or even one of my (rather limited number of) extended family members here in town. It's stupid, it sucks.

Welcome to the hell that is my little piece of this shitty world.

On the bright side. Kara and I are going out for a bit tonight. It's something. Hopefully it'll help with this depression that's spurred most of this rant. Sorry it was so disjointed.

Until next time.

Peace.