(Jan 12, 2025)

I need to give my soul permission.

Mood: Latent stress but ok

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When I wake up in the morning I say affirmations to myself immediately to beat off the dread. "You have everything you need", "You have so much time", "You are loved", "You are safe". I'm trying to practice a sort of manic optimism as the new administration marches towards America. Hate speach against trans people and women is being allowed (explicitly) on Facebook. The government is outlawing TikTok because of how it organizes leftist sentiment and disseminates real images of whats happening in Palestine. Gay marriage is up for debate again and from the looks of it Elon Musk is becoming our oligarch dicator. I also just had a birthday

My birthday brought with it the usual emotions. I have to remind myself that I'm not useless and that my life is worth it. I continue to mourn how separate I am from my family, how there is literally no space for me there. At how my mom has chosen my bigoted father over supporting and learning about me. It's my party so I can cry if I want to. It bothers me that I've asked for they/ them pronouns and gender neutral language but even on my birthday I'm met with all the she/hers and my mom even wearing a Harry Potter sweater. Bizarre. She's not very pop culture savvy but frankly I'm sick of her playing stupid and being so weak and such a bad mother. I'll say it, she's a bad mother. Not in every aspect, but in some, yes, she's a bad mother. Because why else would you not want to make your kid feel seen? Why else would you model such fucked up relationship dynamics for your children? This sadness sits in the pit of my belly constantly and I wish it would just leave me alone. It poisons my ability to make friendships with others and trust. It makes me feel like I have to move in secret.

I'm tired of that. I think I'm going to be corrective whenever I chat to someone immediately since it seems like people get flustered when you correct them during and after the fact. Maybe I should just be selfish because the opposite makes me feel gross. Yesterday I went to Paris' birthday with Donald and we were chatting to John and he referred to me as a woman, supportively as in "I believe all women", but it still made me hiccup inside and I could see Donald tense a little too. He takes me lead on this which is good but I think I'm going to be more specific in what I need, especially as the world hurdles towards the oncoming dark cloud. I've been wondering as well how to dress like myself but communicate my internal nature more. I love femininity, and ultimately shouldn't care what I wear, but I feel so erased all the time. I need to get over this internalized transphobia and allow myself to be who I am.

I'm getting together the courage to call this doctor in Michigan about top surgery. I've been going back and forth and back and forth about my breasts. My main concern being the small voice in my head who's drank the koolaid that it's all in my head. But then I feel like not having any ambiguity in my body again, feels like I don't materially exist. Maybe being called a girl in public wouldn't sting as much if I knew that I knew myself well enough to remove my breasts. That I secretly, under my furs and fills had a beautiful flat chest, no bra, my heart beat visible through my skin. The fear bubbles up whenever I get close to booking a consultation or think about the logistics of surgery. The flesh being pulled back, the bits of me laying on a table and thrown into the garbage. My body never did anything wrong to me except keep me alive so I don't want to hurt it. But I don't think it's right to have my brain hurt in its place and get hot with rumination. Maybe at this point I'd just like to make the decision and see how it goes after. I've never truly hated any of my tattoos and I think it will be the same here. I just have to hold my fear fully knowing that it might be the wrong decision. Either way I just want to know the answer too and then go on my merry way.

The feeling of being so stuck in the decision is that I still don't trust myself, and not seeing yourself mirrored back by people, like my parents, I think has made this a difficult feeling. Top surgery is at this point the only medical transition I'd like to do for the long term. I've been low dosing testosterone for the last month, but soon I'll run out and I don't think I'll be continuing. I think if I gain a flat chest and get back into a healthy work out routine I'll eventually get to a place of balance. My hair has grown out so femininity will be available to me more. A little longer and I should be able to play more with other silhouettes, the chest will also help with having more space. I guess the goody two shoes in me still feels like I need the permission of those around me. That if I don't go in with the blessings of my family that some higher power will smite me with heavenly rage.

A silly concept, but it's the truth. So I think I need to plan my journey, commit to it and then invite anyone along that has shown that they accept me and let them be there in a positive way. But ultimately It makes no sense to open myself up further to those who are either voting against my safety, or those who can't even bring themselves to use my pronouns. I've written it before, but I'm going to be unabashadly myself. Maybe I just need to be a little more explicit with people when need be but beyond that it's not my responsibility.

There's a nagging feeling that I should have shared these feelings with my family earlier, or talked to them about anything and that if I had maybe they wouldn't be like this. If I had let them take their ignorance out on me a little more, they wouldn't be so in shock or so reactive to the world. But I don't think that's how it works. If we sprout from the ground that our parents have cultivated, then it's not on the child who's just entered the world to somehow be wiser than their parents, to educate them, to be open when the environment is not one where anyone else is open. So I also need to release that feeling of responsibility that their beliefs are somehow my fault. I didn't raise them, they were supposed to raise me and teach me about the world. And because they didn't I had to do that on my own, which means it took a little longer to put words to how I felt. And I was only able to find those words by leaving their bubble, seeking an education, honoring my artistic self etc.

I give myself permission to find what I need in the vacuum of self and let others know when I've come to a decision. I give myself permission to keep growing in different soil than my parents. I give myself permission to stop questioning my boyfriend's love and support of me. I give myself permission to deserve everything I want. I give myself permission to become a successful film director & artist. I give myself permission to truly believe in all that I've achieved. I give myself permission to be hopeful and step into the future with my head held high. I give myself permission to breathe and feel safe. I give myself permission to release any guilt I have. I give myself permission to love myself and love my friends. I give myself permission to be financially successful. I give myself permission to take social risks and put myself out there. I give myself permission to be immature and mature in the same breath. I give myself permission to dream and dream and dream forever! I give myself permission!

(December 27, 2024)

Container for

Mood: Cozy & Skeptical

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Gender. It feels like walls are closing in politically. Online the algorithms are serving up obsessive tirades of inter-communal policing about identities, who can be what, and what terms are correct and all I can think is that everyone is so SO stupid. Maybe because I'm a loner and feel disconnected from queer community in general but each time I want to find community it feels like what I find is a pocket of unsavory snakes eating their own tail. Some of this is my own personality flaws where at a deep level I start getting nervous if I'm in a group. I wonder if it's some epigenetic trait of being German. A fear of plugging into the group think and becoming a weapon for someone else's sordid plans for the world. Some of it might just be my nature.

Regardless of the above pessimism I feel more and more sure of who I am. More willing to stake claim to myself and bite the hand of those who parrot the anxietiesof the dominant culture, even if it's the hand of someone who should be my sibling. This constant paranoia and policing of those who fall between different communities feels so immature. Is it because we lost so many elders in the AIDs epidemic that we're where we are? Of course I'm sore, I feel erased. My partner is a man and I'm percieved as a woman. So I understand someone's hesitency at allowing me in. (like a vampire), but if people are honest, I don't think I'm percieved as straight to most people my age and younger. When I tell people that I have a boyfriend they seem surprised. Maybe my size, how I act, what I write about. I'm not sure, but I almost feel sad when I tell gay folks that I have a boyfriend. I normally use partner so that my queerness isn't erased. So I don't come across as a wolf in sheep's clothing

But what I would assume, is that communally you would claim people regardless. You're a lesbian on Testosterone? Your allies are trans men and nonbinary people. You're at the club, and you're also allied with trans women. This concept of sexual ownership as the prevailing force behind categorization feels faulty. As a nonbinary bisexual/ pansexual it feels like I bleed into many spaces. A little trans-masc, a little lesbian, a little trans man, a little void-gender. Maybe because the state of being "a woman" is so forced on me I struggle to grasp it in any way. Or am willing to grasp it. I wonder, if I was born in a different body, would I be grappling for my female body? If I get top surgery, will I feel more willingness to touch that part of me again becaue the thing that has been hidden has been externalized in some ritualistic way. Enscribed on my body?

I think i'm grappling with a certain level of transphobia. I do have to cop and be more comfortable that I do fall under this category. Have I written this before? I dont know, I repeat myself a lot. A lot of this anti-trans rhetoric has been getting to me I'm afraid. This language of social contagion, fear that the tiktok algorithm is brainwashing me into thinking I'm some secret and strange sort of boy-girl, man, etc. I keep having to push away the feeling that there's something deeply wrong with me. I recently was texting with Donald about this, asked if I could share some thoughts on my mind via text because I'd always forget to bring it up. Told him that I didn't want my breasts and was afraid he's think I was disgusting for even wanting that. He told me he fully supports me, loves who I am with breasts or not. And when I put the phone down I cried. Not in sadness but in a relief that one person existed, the most important person in my life, loved me and would love me after this kind of change.

I'm interested in the question: "How does your gender feel?" It's a hard one and I've come to terms that living in any cultural context means you can only see so far, and that I shouldn't be ashamed if any binary things come into play. My gender feels Boyish, but pretty. A teen girl with a cock. A prince who kisses her knight. A short skirt with a high knecked top with no bra underneath. A vicious dandy of a vampire in a burgundy suit and long beautiful blonde hair. A thong bikini bottom and a cowboy hat, sun hitting my bare chest. Full lolita with a low baritone. Vibrating frequencies that make your head tingle. The opposite of your guess. A ballerina dress laced tight, panties and a leather jacket. laying on the bed with high pigtails in boxers, no top on, a lit joint to my lips and a lofi hip hop tape playing thinking about rain. A feeling of connection with men and women. A glee in them feeling a little gay around me. A container rotating in the gravity free environment of a spacestation, with fluid expanding, and splitting up and reconstituting in different places in three dimension space. Elf boy. Orc female. Being desireable to myself and others.

What is NOT my gender?: Breastfeeding a child. Heterosexual angst. Barbie. toxic masculinity. Accepting different expectations. A big belly. Needing to own others. Narcissism. Breasts touching the skin on your sternum. Being a middle aged woman. Polo shirt and newbalances. Letting men get away with it.

(December 22, 2024)

Makers

Mood: Contemplative

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Today I had an interesting google meeting with my Aunts. We haven't talked in awhile and they wanted to hang out for a bit before Christmas to catch up. I'm staying here in NY this year. Initially I was anxious and letting my mom know but she seemed to understand. The idea of spending rent on a plane ticket to just sit quietly and stew in the bizarre atmosphere of my parent's house was too much. Not after thesis year, an election ending in despair and my general end of year malaise.

The conversation was interesting because for the first time my Aunts, roused by the election and the fact that conservatives have it out for them just as much as those ranked higher in the opression olympics, actually seemed to act and see my father for who he was. Apparently those unhappy vibes emnating from them at my sister's wedding wasn't just fatigue at having played such an intense role in it's preperation. There had been D*R*A*M*A.

My aunts have always wanted to keep the peace but for a moment they let themselves exist apolitically, allowed themselves to show their hurt and were met with the same disturbing tantrum I've seen countless times. It all started when my uncle Eddie had playfully asked my family at a gathering who everyone was going to vote for. Like other Europeans, German's don't fully understand how bad it's gotten here. Or maybe they are understanding now but because of their own history of fascism political fire and demonstration is discouraged. So of course it lit up, and whatever my dad said said actually had Mary and Terra leaving the function early, something that's never really happened. Eddie seeing this thought he had caused the rift himself and both apologized to Mary and Terra and also told my dad he should call Mary and make up with his sister. She's family after all.

Sweet sweet Eddie. His charm must have worked because he did call my Aunt but things devolved quickly and even got worse. Mary asked how he could vote for someone and be politically aligned with people who wish to destroy the lives of his family? She pointed out that most of his family was made up of women. Did he not care that his vote and president wanted to hurt his family? And he said right to her face that he didn't care about us. She mentioned something about everyone needing men's protection, and my Aunt's being man-haters (lesbian stereotype) and Mary clapped back asking when she had ever asked him for protection, pointing out she would be able to out shoot him any day of the week. It would be funny if it weren't sad. It feels like a sort of vindication that others are seeing him for who he is.

My dad stopped himself but the hurt was there. Mary asked if along with everything he believed he didn't approve of Mary and Terra's marriage. He stopped there but the silence rings loud as well. Mary and Terra then mentioned that my pronouns had come up in converstaion, that my mom had actually asked what the big deal was with me using They/Them and I guess that started him in on something but who knows. They didn't go into specifics on that one but I was intrigued. I tried to let everyone know of my pronouns via text and in the least invasive way as possible and he never responded in the group chat. A part of me had thought it was him being bad at technology but I guess again. Silence is loud.

It felt good that when I brought up that I wasn't surprised he had said he didn't care about the women in his life, he had already told my sister and I this to our faces, in front of people. Terra says "I know, I rememember". I had forgotten there were witnesses. A small part of me felt something like schadenfreude, or no, this sadness that everyone kept things the same even when they saw that over and over at different frequencies. I wonder how these next 4 years will further test these bonds. A part of me wants it to finally fall apart, but I don't like the idea of Incel Daddy going out like other Incels. The women around him will pay the price.

I don't hate my dad. As I grow older I see more of him in me. I need to get over my guilt at being the first one to really disconnect from him for my own protection. His actions are his own. The lonliness he is steeped in has been self-manufactured. I don't think as a kid and teen that I was uniquely selfish. That I took anything from him that he didn't want to give or was able to give. He lives in his home, with a pension, many cars (none that work). He's been cruel in his words and yet, I still feel sad for him. Maybe I can put the guilt to the side and just have the sadness now. Him and his brother are paying strange prices for their choices. Their action and inactions. I understand loneliness, it eats away at people to the point where you forget their ugly words and want to help. Like your childhood dog with rabies. Is the dad you liked hanging out with still in there? The one that told you stories. The one that took you to bumpershoot, the one that told you to hold people accountable for their actions even when they're inebriated. Is the dad who gave you money for first rent when you swapped apartments and sayd "I don't want to kill the dream" still in there?

It's hard because he used to be MY parent. Like I was cut from his cloth when I was created. Created from his rib old testement style. My anger bubbles up like his, and a younger version of him is the masculine archetype lodged in my chest. The pang of dysphoria I feel every once in awhile are for his large hands. His whit and capricious flirtation that can connive and make someone feel like the center of the world. Part shaman and part cowboy.

He once told me he saw our dead dog's ghost one foggy night on the back porch. When we were still talking on the phone he'd tell me about the crows who lived in the back yard. When our dog Poochy walked into our yard he delicately ripped the metal lodged in her flesh and earned her trust. He'd bring stray dogs home and stayed with his dying friend until the very end. Some of it is wanting to feel good, powerful, a savior. But at least some of it is love. What I don't understand is why the love never guides him out of the dark. I thought love was supposed to fuel you, a gleaming spiritual molecule that prevails.

I think about, what if my child moved away to another city across the country. Would I not visit them in over 10 years? Would I look at them and say that if they never bore a child that they were worthless? Would I view my child, who's educated, in love, living in their own apartment, teaching undergrad, about to get their graduate degree with a 10 year career in illustration that some would kill for, would I see them as a mentally ill abstraction when they changed their pronouns? Would I be able to degrade my partner (husband etc.) in front of them? Call them culturally inferior, lower class trash because of his culture? Crazy, it would be crazy for me to do this to my child. Even if that child was not born from my body, I would remember the heat of their little body sleeping on mine. I would remember their face on christmas day, or their cries when their first pet died. I would feel the deep burn of fear when they went walking to school on their own, even if it was just down the street. I would remember their eyes the first time they realized I was a mere mortal. I just don't think I could do that to them, not without immediately remedying it somehow. Promise to never do it again and that if anyone else spoke to them that way they should turn their back and leave.

(December 3, 2024)

Lestat

Mood: Calm Floating? Maybe something else

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A few different things converge in my mind asking for space. First my gender dysphoria getting worse these last few months, especially around my breasts. My sister giving birth and the complicated feelings around that and season 2 of 'Interview with a Vampire' that I just gorged myself on. Let's adress each in order to simplify things.

There's an interesting conversation with myself happening and maybe I will be a little out of order because I think this ties together well with current politics and vampires. The TLDR is that I realized that I feel most comfortable when viewing myself as a very feminine boy but that at this point ID-ing as nonbinary still works for me socially as an apt description of how I experience the world and the world chooses to experience me. For example when I put together a cute outfit, with a short skirt and a low cut top at first I would feel self-concious like I was lying to people since there's a pressure to have presentation align with internal identity. But if I look at myself in the mirror and say, "My, what a pretty boy" these feelings of hiding disappear. I don't like that because of my curves and clothing preferences it's assumed I'm faking something, but it's not my responsibility to hold that for others or make things make sense. Because just by being I do make sense. Other people's backsliding politics don't change that. I don't have to perform anything for anyone else.

I've struggled a lot with figuring out what elements of medical "transition" are right for me since I feel like changing my body medically to "pass" and appease cis people's cruel ideas around gender feels false to me, and frankly very conservative. Also, as a nonbinary person who, though enjoying the term "pretty boy", I find that gender falls apart in my hands the moment I scrutinize it, and it becomes hard to understand the stories other trans people have told over and over online vs. the story that's bubbling up from inside me. If I'm not looking to "pass" as a specific gender then what are my goals in changing the body? What am I appeasing if there's no platonic goal, and that I truly believe you can be a boy with breasts and a vulva? Why do I feel the need to do anything at all? What are we reaching for?

For me I keep returning to the theory that gender dysphoria stems from the brain and body forming at different times. Meaning that the internal image a brain has for the self might be very different than what the body forms into. That what I feel is a mismatch of expected form. But beyond that I think everyone should be able to live the life that they want. That male and female characteristics as they're in the culture are like 80 percent conditioned. I'm working on disconnecting my want to have a flat chest with the pressure to perform the gender that a flat chest communicates to the world at large. But the thing is it would be a modification that opens up space for me, but I still plan on being me. I feel like I am me when I walk around and my style and presentation reflects that. Especially now that I use They/ Them pronouns. You don't need surgery to present masc, but I like adornment to an extent. I like "girl" clothes and have no intention of masculinization of my chest meaning that I have to cut off my ability to express myself, be in touch with my sensitivity and view femininity as a shame or weakness. But even so, if the mind is disturbed by the form over and over every day, that means I deserve care in the same way that binary trans people do. I can't move towards a more straightforward presentation just to be less complicated to people. It's just not me. I am who I am and no amount of growing propaganda is going to change that. It hasn't changed since I was a child, so why would it now?

If I could wave a magic wand and could somehow re-absorb my breasts back into myself. Use the tissue to grow new fingernails or heal scars. Make it a part of me again, I'd cast the speel immediately without hesitation. What I'm frightened of is the finality of the decision and this feeling that it's a display of hubris to maim the body when it's not sick. I'm not sick. But a part of me is still grappling with this and I think it's this deep routed internalized sexism & transphobia that I'm still figuring out. The finality issue is that I just don't trust myself and my idenity. I have to remind myself that my egg didn't crack till deep into 2020. So it's been like 4 years of seeing myself. So in the grand scheme of things I'm still a fledgling when it comes to being under the trans umbrella and all that it entails. But then this is coupled with realizing this as a adult. At first a mentally unstable adult, but an adult all the same. So it feels like I should be able to trust myself and make the decision. But it feels like I'm punishing myself to create the form my brain craves. Framing a procedure like this frames in my mind that I'm not respecting myself and my feelings. It's like I'm viewing myself from the outside and passing judgement.

Which maybe made sense right when my egg cracked, when I was deeply depressed, alone and had lost all faith in everything and everyone. But things have changed. I don't think it's logical to view myself as this unstable person who can't make decisions for themselves. Over the last few years I was able to navigate my way into my own little apartment. Got into Grad school, found a way to continue grad school while I worked for one of the most well known fin-tech companies in the word. It looks like, fingers crossed, I'll be graduating grad school since I just finished principal photography on my thesis. One my first award for my film and OH YEAH have been in a beautiful relationship with my boyfriend where I feel like we've worked through a lot of things together. I've found myself wandering around truly thankful for the experiences and love that I have in my life. Sure, I sometimes wish I had more friends but ultimately I've embraced that I'm a very particular and ultimately uncompromising person. None of this is a reason to doubt myself. To think that I'm doing this to seek attention or "be special". I've never made who I am this huge spectacle, or politicized it, or tried to create a brand around it. I do hate that even this feels like some of the transphobic brain worms have gotten into me. That I'm so worried about my transexualism being too much for others. That I'm frightened to even call myself trans or joke about "my transexualism". I'd never make the case that nonbinary people who "look" like their AGAB have it harder than other trans people. But like any other inbetween it means you oddly have people with opinions on both sides. Your own brothers and sisters look at you with frustration. I just want to be me. I don't care if I'm some flavor of "going stealth". People can't choose who they are. What the fuck is wrong with folks like that? It's similar to the bisexual debate. Where some lesbians will pop off about bisexuals who date men, but then won't listen when bisexuals call out biphobia. They'll say the nastiest shit ever about you and then throw their hands up when when you tell them that it hurts you. I never hear this said about Amab people and gay men. This is becaues bisexual men who are out are more likely to sleep with gay men, or just say they're gay to stay in the community. This leads me to think that it's sexual entitlement and insecurity with the lesbians who get weird about bisexuals fucking men. Sorry, am super off topic now. Just venting and probobly very wrong. I just think there's this thing where bisexual women will be wronged by a lesbian and a bisexual and they'll come down way harder on the bisexual for breaking their heart, especially if they date a man after. That's biphobia baby, and it's not my problem if you gotta work through that. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Lestat from 'Interview' makes me feel seen. He's petty and obviously morally dubious but I just really relate to how he desires people, how he values art, how he's emotionally extreme and honest. And I look up to how uncompromising he is about who he is. He's able to be so compfortable partly due to his whiteness and physical presence. But I relate to that as well unfortunately. This approach to masculinity and femininity is so uncompromising. I even relate to how his self-image around his sexuality that's demonized when he's with men feels disconnected. Un-interested with the slurs and assumptions that are made. He just thrives, until he doesn't. Wallowing for 70 years after heartbreak with his art in a shitty little house during a storm. Beautiful but unkept. I feel a deep connection with that. How his love for Louis when fully in the light is terrifying. Enough to scare off his love and yet he waits for them, and builds things for them. It made me think of my love for Donald. Recently Donald was talking about wanting to write a move about Love and how in media relationships are only viewed as valuable if they are dramatic. I joked about if he thought our relationship was boring. We are often friends and take such comfort in one another, I've never felt more loved and centered. Our love reminds me that I'm a real person. I don't think it was quite like it on his side, but I feel like on my side I had to work very hard to get here. To be trusting and hold back the intensity of my feelings so I didn't scare him away. I'd feel like a total creep when we were apart in the beginning, obsessing over him, strategizing what to say when we met up, building a script to keep myself safe just for us to show up for the date and his energy completely dragging me into the moment where the script wasn't needed anymore. I don't want to overthink it, but it still happens now. I'm used to it and sometimes take it for granted. I relate to feeling like the monster on their best behaviour as they bask in the attention of a beautiful human who has a beautiful heart. Every once in awhile I can tell that I do scare him a little, that he doesn't have the same capacity for darkness so I pull back. But those moments don't feel like I'm having to hide myself. It's more knowing his emotional limits. He's sensitive and I love that about him. It just means I can bang him up a little easier and need to be gentle.

This thanksgiving I did lash out at him briefly and I still feel terrible. I was triggered due to all the family stuff around thanksgiving and was supposed to meet a lot of his family at thanksgiving. I told him that I loved him but for whatever reason couldn't get on the bus with him to Queens. I then walked away and sobbed openly while tourists here for the Macy's parade looked on. I chewed on a crunch wrap supreme, fully belligerant and stumbling around the city. Not my proudest moment. I've apologized but feel like I should apologize again. Let him know it wasn't okay to snap like that at him. I relate to Lestat but I don't want to be him. I do want to be passionate though. I'd rather be passionate alongside Donald then take anything out on him though. I don't need 70 years to know that I want to be with him forever.

I should talk about my sister giving birth but I think I have worked out my sorrows around that. It was surreal to see the picture of the baby last night. My mom kept sending me text updates on the birth since it was going on for a long time. Ultimately I felt sadness, and was a little grossed out by the baby. Not the baby's fault, more that it was related to me. That she would become the center of my family's world and in response nobody would have to face any more truths. They were getting the do-over they've always wanted instead of healing anything that's happened with me. I feel like I'm being replaced all over again, first by my sister and now by her baby. I'm haunted by the knowledge that my dad doesn't value who I am because I haven't given birth. Which grosses me out ideologically. This all crosses with Donald's parents only wanting anything to do with me unless we get married and my womb births their fucking heir. It makes me wonder how I'd even handle having a child if I ever wanted to. The projections from other people is so disgusting, they treat the child like their own and treat the birthing parent like an incubator for their dreams. Mom's stand outside the door and re-traumatize themselves by reliving their births through their daughters. I also am frightened that their daughter will grow up to be like me. Either them not getting what they need emotionally and falling deep into themselves OR I have to watch parents actually raise a queer little kid right. Both directions rub glass in my heart. These are my projections of course, but the entire wedding and birth, and me missing the baby showers and all that has been a lot this year. Both leaving me want more family but also knowing I can't handle it. Can't compromise enough to not want to stand up and scream when I'm surrounded by guns and men who need therapy and moms who need divorces. When my mom texted me saying I was an "Auntie" I did immediatey correct her and say I didn't use gendered language. I know she thought it was petty but I can't keep nodding and shrinking myself just because it's a big milestone. Or else every milestone is just a strategy to keep people quiet. Every holiday is designed to tell people to shut up, just get through this day. No. They don't get to use the birth of someone to erase part of me. I'm nobody's Auntie. The whole thing also has highlighted how much gender dysphoria the baby stuff, the gender reveals, the super binary weddings, the "Aunt" exclamations, how replaceable "female" children are to their fathers, gives me. How my head feels full and confused with not knowing how to navigate family when it's all built on systems you can't access. I can view my genitals as a portal and maybe get through a pregnancy but I've never wanted to be a mom. I think I view "mom" as synonym to "human sacrifice". So I then have to separate my gender dysphoria from my very deserved feminist rage.

My family doesn't have much language for any of this. Not in an actionable way. They're actually quite cowardly. They play a lot of lip service to certain liberal ideas but quickly suck the words back in when there's a man in the room. Even Mary and Terra to a point have centered their lives around and appeased men. I look at all the "cousins". Me, Brittany, Lily and Caroline. Then there's the boys Corey and Josh I guess. But I think of us and overall my sister has the best relationship with her family. I have to remember that my other cousins are also distant with their families in different ways. Lily is realzing that her mom is a fucking racist and that her family alienated her from her own culture and community. Caroline's come out as a lesbian and has been facing what it's like to not be acknowledged by her mom. Cory and Josh are off somewhere. Our families cut off from one another due honestly to classism. And then there's me, the oldest who left for NY and never really came back. Of course my sister has the best relationship with our family. This is not a criticism, my sister is community oriented and gives a lot. But she also has actively chosen to push grievances under the rug and low key recreate our family structure. She takes after my mom so my mom knew how to provide for her in a way she couldn't for me. Becaues I was more like my dad and in a way she isn't compatible with my dad. And she was triangulated by my dad's narcissism to see me as an obstacle to his love. And vice versa.

Ultimately genetic family is not where I feel safe anymore. Havn't felt really safe since like puberty and before that who knows! I was a kid and everything was normal because I didn't know better. Moral of the story, I'm a beautiful non-binary boy, sometimes girl. That's actually really fucking cool. If I get top surgery, that is NOT a form of self-mutilation. I'm not crazy and knowing myself is actually proof of sanity. My future family, if I build one with Donald, will be different than the ones we both grew up in but just as valid. And my efforts, point of view, my art, my loves, my experiences, even if I never have children, are a sublime use of my concious life on this earth. I'm thankful for my life and have been working so hard. Anyone who can't see that is a heel. And my sister will be a great mom.

(August 5,, 2024)

Shut Down

Mood: Split

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I just finished rewatching the film 'Thirteen'. It's a favorite and a film I'd like to continue to watch over and over as I get older. The final scene where the mom kisses the cutting scars on her daughter's wrist made me cry. The intimacy the mom wants to have with her daughter is so frightening, and normally I feel disturbed by parent-child relationships that are too close, maybe because of the incestuous undertones. But this felt different. A parent that's had compassion for herself and her mistakes able to embrace the self-destructiveness of her own daughter. Mirrors, both holding the same pain together.

I'm not sure I've ever had that kind of intimacy with my mom. Growing up it felt like I had to cultivate a sort of anti-intimacy with my parents. I've always been fascinated by the teenagers who felt compelled by their emotions to melt down publically, in front of other people in such a devestatingly honest way. I'm not sure it's even motivated by bravery but this instinctual, deep routed thing, like the doors to the house were never screwed on. They have no choice but to gush with life and rip out the emotions of others in response. I know it's the product of not being able to mediate your emotions, but from the completely other side of that ability where numbness lives it looks amazing.

Don't get me wrong, there are moments where I've been swung by my nature to partake in this honesty, but I learned about it much later when I left for college and it doesn't come naturally. And when I go to visit my family it all has to go back into its box. That's why it's hard to visit family. It requires numbness and walking a tight rope. I fully shut off. Talking about it feels like beating a dead horse. I don't expect it to be different ever, because my parents had their adulthood before I existed, my entire childhood, and my early adulthood, and their present golden years to change things but they haven't. This is their life. They are responsible for who they are completely and I'm not sure how I turned out could have been any different. It does feel like I'm still boxed in by whatever made me the way that I am, and that the pandemic, and the relationship breakdown rebuilt a lot of walls I thought I had been able to deconstruct. I'm anxious because whenever I'm able to challenge one of these innate things about myself, when I visit home these limitations are strengthened and I either fall off the wagon or just have to recharge for a few months to get back to normal.

Obviously my parents did amazing things for me, and I do want to acknowledge the stability, the food, my own room, helping me take out student loans. I will never deny my privileges that are the product of their hard work and love over many years. But my mental health starting very early was not in a good place and nobody ever did anything to help me. It felt like I had to exist privately in my head or else disturb whatever balance was being maintained. And holding the knowledge that your parents are in an unhealthy dynamic weighs on you. Having to stay quiet about your observations about how your dad treats your mom and vice versa is a form of gaslighting. You shouldn't have to always hit an emotional breaking point to be able to be allowed to say something true. It shouldn't feel like something is burning behind your eyes when anyone looks at you, notices you. You shouldn't have to stay smaller than your dad to make him feel like more of a man. Or punished for growing at all. Maybe that's what still gets me, that they provided so much for me, but also turned around and needed to take me down a peg if I was flourishing too much. I became concious of this, learned how to bite back or turn away from them so I could focus on being who I am, and this has reframed our relationship so harshly. It makes sense that they view me as selfish and disrespectful.

But what brought that about? I already had some of these feelings in High School, maybe earlier. A dawning awareness of feeling restrained and very alone. The antagonism and instinctual need to keep me within their dynamic. I know that my parents worked hard not to pass down all of their own trauma to us, shielded us from some of those weirder instincts. I sometimes think that's why they were so distant and uninterested in playing a role in my life during high school, or were antagonistic when I tried to set boundaries or share my feelings. They knew that if they got too close that they might give in to crushing the entity that they were supposed to take care of. Everything would be smooth if I just shut the fuck up and stopped wanting things. If I just stopped trying to be consistant with my morals. Why won't you tie this anchor around your foot? Why won't you pretend to be stupid for me? Why won't you agree that you're ugly, like me? That you have no choice in your life like I feel? Just want the same things I want! Tie yourself to a house, a kid, shitty coworkers ANYTHING PLEASE so I have something to talk to you about because it's too painful to talk about the other things, what I want, my dreams about what the future could look like.

(July 16, 2024)

A HEART LAYING ON THE PAVEMENT

Mood: Tired & Bored

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I've sworn off Tik Tok for awhile, and that means my mind is hungry to ingest information and be entertained. Unfortunately today that lead to listening/ watching the entire season of 'Worst Roommate Ever' on netflix while I worked. This might be a good explanation for why I feel uncomfortable and hollow. When I get like this I do start to think. "Wow, I'm such a pessimistic person".

I wrote a little about creative pessimism for the cover letter for my submission to Anchorage International Film Festival. How I heard that their fest had a lot of heart, and that I wanted to make things even if the world is crumbling around us. My pessimist goes beyond just the creative, and into everything else. For example, I realize that I enter most interactions apologetically, convinced that nobody likes me. That I have to bludgeon and earn respect by being talented and making things that dazzle.

I miss the version of myself that believed so much in myself, who felt like I was sparkling and special. The main character. I know even then I was also insecure, but I marvel at how I always kept trying. Always showed up despite my anxiety. And how I wanted to talk to and meet as many people as possible. I didn't think much about "what if this person gets too attached", or know that someone was weird to women. I just was like "we're all artists and equal, let's party!". Again, hindsight with the rose colored glasses. I also realize I was often motivated by libido. With that part satiated, the constant seeking for love feels unnecessary.

Oddly enought, I wonder if my response to feeling like a selfish waste of space, and others as emotional time bombs that could go off at any point, is actually to be more selfish. Lean back into being the main character of my life. I've felt so burned by others treating me like a side character that I hesitate to be that person. The delusional aspect of it feels necessary though. I want to feel more joy and sureness in my decisions. These feelings that I'm cheating, or worthless, or ugly, or holding what people MAY be thinking about my body in their head. I wonder if this state of fractured brain is due to being online and becoming so obsessive about how the online politics swayed. I didn't know how to act in person so I'd study people online to see how to position myself. But I think that also made me study people I didn't even know. Read the nasty comments people say, not at me, but towards people like me.

I wonder if I need to become even stricter with my social media. Not purposefully read the hateful comments out of curiosity. Not need to know every single position and opinion to the point where I become paralyzed. Set boundaries for the hatred that can leak in. Maybe do just an hour of social media a week so I can at the very least get a taste for what's out there. Maybe an hour a day? By doing so I hope to become so bored that I'm forced to learn how to play cards, and start a random conversation with a stranger.

People interpret my mannerisms as either, being holier than thou, being hyper confident, or dismissive of people. Sometimes they assume I'm smarter than I actually am. Though, that also needs to be reassessed. I am smart, and I shouldn't have to qualify that or hide it. Anyway, it depends on their own insecurities but I do hide behind this shell. I do like my privacy, but often inside myself I'm in pain when around people. Navigating all of their politics, not knowing if I've looked at them enough, or too much. I feel too tired to do small talk, even though I know this is what builds closeness. Or leads to the collaborations that build closeness

Rearrange my wires and reboot me. It's a great fatigue to be so on gaurd all the time. I don't even know why I'm so cagey about my life to others. The agony of being known singes at my edges. If anyone feels the need to humble me though, they're dead to me. Honestly that's what I sense so often. Other people's insecurities. Most of what people are expressing, all of the time, through their gossip, who they befriend, their interests feels as if it stems from insecurity. And I can smell it on people, because again, my insecurities express as expressionlessness. Which triggers other people's insecurities. It's hard to befriend people when it feels like they're completely naked in front of me from the start.

The role that trauma has played in this can't be understated. That's the other part, I never feel comfortable talking about my trauma because I know other's have gone through so much more. But that needs to go out the window. Over the pandemic I was exposed to my loved ones (some) turning on me, who needed me to be smaller than them in order to make them feel ok. Who lied about me to me and let their paranoia grip their hearts. Those who loved me the most felt content to watch me get bullied, even enjoyed seeing me struggle or cry. I watched my mom stand by and watch my dad tell me I was shit, stood by while he proudly let us know what was in his heart, and that he was willing to sacrifice all of us on the alter of his ego. Watched everyone around these toxic men make excuses and become their protectors. Had people swindle their way into my home to just become hateful and take advantage of me. Had people make me feel like I wasn't talented enough because I was making progress without their help. It's been hard to get the taste of disgust for people out of my mouth. It taints everything. But it also tastes like truth.

I'm not sure I can forgive, because it's not about how they hurt me but what they revealed about themselves. What do people do when given the opportunity to dominate or hurt someone else. What do they do when someone is vulnerable. Forgiveness doesn't take away the knowledge that they can't be trusted with my innards. Whenever I meet someone I subconciously wonder what societal string is keeping them in line. If I test them and show them my belly will they in turn show me that they would not be able to resist ripping into my soft flesh? Could they handle when it becomes clear what kind of creature they really are? Most of the time no, and they lash out in shame.

(July 8, 2024)

THE SPACES BETWEEN FAMILY AND FRIENDS

Mood: rested & bored

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Last weekend D and I had two separate and very different experiences of hanging out with friends of ours. The first was Lily and Jason's house warming barbecue in connecticut and the other was dinner with his friends Jani & her husband (terrible I don't remember his name). The first was not my favorite, and I knew that was coming. I've written about this "friend group" before, and know that I should just stop calling them my friends. I was invited, and hope that Lily does consider me a friend but it's most likely distant friends, or the way you would invite that faroff aunt or friend of the family. You don't want to erase that person from your life, but you maybe secretly don't like them.

I guess I'll write about this friend group a little bit. I didn't have a terrible time, but oddly it was the people I knew the least, who knew me through my art who were the warmest and most enthusiastic about talking to me. One of these being another friend Lily, who I totally get actually liking me because Donald and I had an interesting run in with her at first lily's wedding party, where we made sure she got home safe after getting too wasted. (Truly a blind leading the blind situation). However everyone else, I don't know. Certain people always avoid talking to me, but I was kind of taken aback that Jensine seemed to be like super uncomfortable around me. Barely asked me any questions, almost avoided me if I hadn't spoken to them. Now I will give folks the benefit of the doubt that it was hot as balls outside and the moment we moved inside it felt like the vice around my heart relaxed a little.

The opressiveness of the heat already makes me a sour puss, but it wasn't just that. There's this thing that i realized just zaps my energy and makes me fully unsure of how to approach and truthfully annoys me haha where someone will overshare something sexual and deeply personal loudly, in this vain desire to have people think they're so crazy, and sexy and cool, but then also don't invite you into the conversation or make space, so it makes you feel like you're trespassing when they're the one spewing their business way outside the intended circle. It feels embarrassing and for the first time in a long time really made me cringe. This happened again when Jackie talked the entire way home on the train back to the city. Everything from who's she's dated, sex, how cicada's piss always with this feigned "whoa, I'm so crazy and hyper, whoa don't look at me but LOOK AT ME". Which is so puzzling that she needs to be this hyper center of attention because nobody will ever not look at her. She's a total smoke show. So I'm not sure where that need to always be yelling "LOOK AT ME" comes from.

Most people there are for sure aquaintances at best. But the experience and the 12 hours of overstimulation in the sun left me drained and sad, clawing to get away from everyone. Even Maritsa seemed to act strange to me, being way more interested in chatting to Donald than me. Which was ok. I got that sense a few times. Donald it so cute and attractive and honestly if it weren't for me he'd probably get invited to stay longer, to hang out at all the boy nights and a third in all their threesome/ friend orgies. He has this willingness and want to please others that I don't have that. I envy him for that openness and want to try with people. I still don't think that should be enough to elicit this strange need they have to push me to the sidelines.

I did feel, purposefully pushed away by most people there. Not sure which circle to join with Donald. There was a point where we sat kind of near a group under the umbrella and it felt like the adult thing to do was to like, notice us and make space for us too, but this was not something ever extended. And I guess I wasn't willing to debase myself by asking to be invited. That never feels good. I guess I felt pretty sad that Lily never came to talk to me or D the entire time, Jensine low key stayed away until we went back inside again, and like, who else is a friend there? Donald is such a good partner that he'll stay by my side and be my buddy, but I know it probably wasn't fun for him.

So here's the thing, I know that I often place myself off to the side because that's where I feel the safest. I'm deeply nervous, and naturally feel unsafe in most social situations. I can see this with this friend group, my own family and school. I understand where a lot of this comes from. I don't feel comfy at school because I just wasn't able to be around to socialize on campus and on set because I had to work to make my film happen. With family, it's because I can't be myself without upsetting the family patriarch who nobody wants to hold accountable. But with this friend group I still don't get it, why I was pushed away so harshly. They've all maimed one another way more in deeply upsetting ways than I ever have. And to be honest Lily is much more exacting and mean than I am. My only thing is that I don't host things, or haven't in a long time. And I've stuck up with myself.

So lets be real. I will not sound likeable in this paragraph but it should be said. Vreni doesn't like me because I make her insecure because I'm the better artist and I think she senses that her husband prob would find me hot if they weren't together because we're the same body type. There can only be one chubby hottie in the hot girl group and she wants that covered. Jensine excludes me probably because she knows that her boyfriend tried to hook up with me but I rejected him AND in the hiearchy of the group, because she was always the "hot one", she's lost some of her desireabilty currency by gaining weight and not having the hottest boyfriend in the group. We are on the same hotness plain and for someone who has seen themselves as secretly better than others that's humbling. Nobody likes someone who humbles them. Maritsa I have no clue, she just seemed nervous. Vreni's husband and Jensine's boyfriend can't talk to me for the obvious reasons because them having awareness of me is a threat. I've never understood why K doesn't like me, and at this point don't take it personally. Lily only invites and talks tome because she feels guilty for how the apartment handoff went, and actively doesn't invite me to things because she doesn't like it when I don't agree with her. She's particular, and wants/ needs control of things and knows that if I don't like something I just won't go along with stuff. In a way we're similar, and while that should bind us, it actually creates strife. She also has told me to my face that "I'm really weird". We lived together for years where I was too stressed to come out of my room. While she probably holds this against me, I think she's self-aware enough to realize that living with her and Jason as a couple was uncomfortable for me. Jason can't show an interest to chatting with me probably more out of nervousness at being a host and maybe because of the weird boyfriend code.

When I got home I was so burnt up, chub rub all down my legs, overheated. Donald wanted to make love but my heart wasn't in it. When he fell asleep next to me I silently sobbed. Mourned not having friends. I missed Laura, and I missed Dadu & Daniel. I missed when Chandler still wanted to work on things together with me. I don't think I'll be worrying about the Lily Barbecue group of people anymore. Worry about being invited, worry about what they think. There might be some interesting professional connections still there but I'm not going to push it. I can't make it better, or let them block me from the world. If I see them I will say hi, but I have other joys, and want to prioritize folks who make space for me, who have space for me. Donalds friends make so much space for me. I can tell they think I'm weird, but maybe they have some of Donalds want and interest in winning people over. I've been learning a lot from D in terms of his friend making/ keeping spirit. He's always thinking of others which I think is what I lack. Always wanting to bring a snack, flowers, wanting to help tidy up and help the host of the party. I feel a toxic twinge of frustration when I feel this expectation, maybe because of the gendered nature of the expectation. People feel a sly sense of smugness when I do a womanly thing, but Donald will gain a bit more praise and make people feel safe by being one of the "good ones". It's a strange space, I love that about him though. Even if that need to help comes from a place where he feels like he has to earn his love, it's still a beautiful expression of an insecurity that could become ugly in other toxic expressions.

I want to be a good partner to D, and make his socializing funner. We went to dinner with his friends yesterday and I think it went really well. We all chatted fervently about a range of topics, had good food, and the other couple seemed to truly be excited to hang out with us, with me specifically, they already love D. I got the vibe that they realy wanted to hang out with another couple in that double date sort of way, since monogamy between men and women can be a bit isolating. It was a nice reminder that some people do have space for good one on one conversation. That I maybe wasn't a burden all the time.

There are a lot of patterns in my relationships with others that haunt me, but I don't know how to fix it without changing fundamental aspects of myself or dulling my shine. My interests. My instincts. I know I'm not perfect, and can be difficult. But I can't help but shake the feeling that this pattern arises because I make people insecure by taking up space in my own way. I should prioritize the freaks that dare to approach me and are wise enough to stay.