See? I’m back!
With a new haircut on a rainy day.
Compare the above current haircut to my previous lack of one:
I call it amorphous blob hair.
See? Much better. Granted, my mom’s probably going to kill me since I promise not to cut my hair again, but I look so much better clean cut than I do shaggy. I’d really rather not go into the drama of the past…month/3 weeks. It’s too tiring and I spent all night working on a paper about Morocco and it’s raining so…not today.
But I’m still here, still alive and kicking. Senior Ball is coming up this Saturday, plenty of tuxedo pictures to follow.
I’ve been thinking a lot more about top surgery. It’s like…I always want it. Sometimes I just want it more than others. And for some reason, by myself, on my own, I think about it more. I stare at myself in the mirror and see not a sliver of the wisp of a boyish girl or girly boy, but simply, maleness. Never in my life has this process been so solidified. So then top surgery pops back up again. Do I really want it? What will top surgery look like on an non-T body? [Will I lose sensitivity?]
E.V. expressed something I hadn’t thought of: as the first to see me, shockingly, as a whole entity instead of just pieces of biology and secondary sex characteristics, to her, having breasts is just something male about me, not explicitly female, just mine. She asked if I was worried if no one else would ever see that, worried that no one could love me as a whole and complete entity, just me. I’m not worried. I thought when I first started, um transitioning? becoming? evolving? finding myself? (fuck language, moving on…) When I first came into the knowledge of myself as otherly gendered or at least not binarily gendered, I thought I would never find anyone to love me. My recent ex-lover had forced me out because of it; that wasn’t the issue in its totality but it was a huge fucking issue. How could anyone ever love someone so mired in the darkness of confusion about ones own self? Can’t you not love someone unless they love themselves?
And I came to the place of loving myself. I slowly, slowly realized that there are people who see the whole of me, or if not the whole of me, parts that coalesce and shift, like putting together a blank puzzle.
Don’t push me out, just a little longer. Stall your mother, disregard your father’s words.
Keep your clothes on, I got all that I can take.
Teach me how to use the love that people say you made.
Janelle Monae is coming to perform here. I feel meh. Thoughts?
I will say she has the nicest hipsteriest asylum cell I’ve ever seen.
I will present you with my newest love, before I vanish into the rainy abyss and sleep for an eternity:
It’s alright, the camera is talking.
Even though I can’t be sure, memory tells me that these times are worth working for.
