raybear: (scream)
Day Two complete. Writing was harder today, but working out was easier, because I had the Lovely and Talented [livejournal.com profile] cocolola to chariot me there. She also worked out with me and allowed me to fulfill my dreams of being an amateur personal trainer. I think one of my favorite parts is when we were mirroring each other doing side squats in the Bears Den, while the three hardcore muscle dudes were acting like they weren't staring at us. After sweating it out, we tried to get an early burger at Kuma's, except it turned out they open at 11:30, not 11:00. Though before that, we killed some time on a neighborhood playground, and let me say, swings aren't as fun anymore. After about two minutes I was dizzy and thought I would vomit or pass out. Is it because my center of gravity changed or do I just need to re-train for that isht? Anyway, we decided on IHOP where I was mesmerized by the poster for the special and ordered it. I was convinced our waiter was gay and knew we were gay because I felt like he sort of was giving both of us that look, but I don't know, maybe its just something straight people do to each other too. After I had such a delightful morning with the Lovely and Talented Coco, I thought, damn, why don't I do that more often? Then I remember she runs a critically-acclaimed, award-winning Theatre Company and I work nights. But I think the YMCA will bring us back together.

Tomorrow I have big plans involving being on the treadmill watching Oprah because "the pregnant man" is the honored guest. I just let myself start thinking and feeling about this today -- up until now I would hear or see a snippet of a news report and just look askance, waiting for it to go away. Because it will. I mean, I understand people's frustrations and fears about all this publicity, particularly FTMs, and I have some of it too. But mostly I just think any damage it will do will be mitigated by any positive exposure it will also do. I say this as someone who hasn't 'legally changed' his sex. I say this as someone who lives in a loophole that gives me health insurance (I can be domestic partnered, even though technically Chicago only offers same-sex domestic partnership). I say this also as someone who thinks, people have BEEN kept from legally changing their name because of money and surgery and hoops and buearacracy. So now there's a chance that a group that previously had more access, now has less. Well, welcome to the Less Access Club. NOW, your ass is going to do something about the problem? Ok, get on it. Thanks for paying attention. As for the late-night jokes? Well, Jay Leno is still saying homophobic isht last week, why should I expect unequal treatment and not here some fcked up bullshit about "androgynous freakshows"? [Source: David Letterman.] There's racist isht on television every second, why should I think us trans will escape? I get angry when I watch everything on the Today show, The View, and even (and especially) Oprah. They don't get sex right, or bodies right, or ethics right, or feminism right, why the hell should they get gender right, especially anything related to transsexuals? I'm walking into this with curiosity, some hella low exectations and the knowledge that 8 years ago, a mtherfcker won an Oscar award for a movie where she played an FTM, and people who read Out Magazine still don't know what the fck that concept or acronym mean.

Ok, maybe I had some things to say about it. I don't mean to totally minimize it, I really don't. I'm just trying to remember to put things in perspective for myself. Hear it, read it, be forced to revisit lots of feelings of anger and frustration and shame and outrage about my life, then I take a breath and its next week and the world keeps moving at its glacier pace. Everybody hold onto the railing and don't slide off.
raybear: (Default)
Today is Day One of my Three Week ChallengeTM which sounds kinda Oprah, but really it originated at the Ojai retreat last April. Nikita and I are going for it again, this time with added goals -- everyday I am meditating, writing for an hour, than going to the gym. All three of these pieces I've been doing somewhat, but the goal of a Three Week Challenge is to challenge bad habits and push through blocks. So, yeah. Today, the sitting was fine, the writing was fine -- hell, I actually did 90 minutes, because I was finishing a short story that I was late in submitting to my workshop group. The going to the gym part was hardest. I am used to a rest day in-between, and I went yesterday, so today I was tired and sore beforehand. But I made it there anyway and did a light routine then came home and took a bath but I'm not sure how much it helped. However I think I now understand the appeal of such physical exertion through training, and how complete exhaustion can keep your mind from getting too worked up about other things. I'm not sure exactly what I'm training for. Life, I guess.

My ipod alarm clock went off while I was folding laundry, because I had woken up early from my nap and forgot to shut it off. A random christmas song came on and for a brief second, I managed to convince my self it was the holidays again and therefore we were having a perfectly reasonable December day. I managed to trick myself for about a full minute, kinda like that Friday two weeks ago when it snowed. When I was getting dressed for work, I decided, fck spring, I'm wearing a flannel button down shirt and corduroy pants like its fall. I'm all browns and dark orange and green and black.
raybear: (red)
Don't get me wrong, I cry at television. It doesn't necessarily take much even, but still, there are times where I can stop and think, um, this is maybe about something else. I had an inkling last week, maybe Thursday or Friday morning I was watching Oprah for the first time in weeks, and it was a story about this college kid who got hit by a car and died but was an organ donor and all these people benefitted from his body and they all showed up and met the dead guy's parents and whoo, I just lost it so much I stopped watching and went in the next room to play scrabble or something.

Today it was during Lost, we're near the end of last season, and I was thinking about Juliet and how much she loves her sister and wants to get back to her and then I thought about how I have no idea what its like to love your sibling that way and have them be important in your life in any significant real way. I think that's sort of what's mixed into this process of mine, I'm not just grieving the loss and choices made by family in the past years, I'm coming to terms with general expectations and ideas of family. So I guess maybe it makes sense that random scenes in television shows make me all upset, because that's the idea of pop culture, capitalizing on common touchstones and ideas that are ingrained, retelling the same stories with occasional twists on new things to keep us interested, but for the most part, if its not actually reflecting life, its reflecting what we think life is suppose to be, or at least look like.

At one point this evening I looked out the window and was shocked to see it snowing more, so hard. I don't look at the weather, I guess, or I'm easily shocked. Maybe that's not the right word. Startled, if only because that afternoon while watching Sophie run around and rub her face in the snow (she is weird), I was imagining what this would all look like with another blanket put on, and then it happened. I think it won't be as much, its eased up, but I decided I needed to go out in it. I took a short walk, to a corner store to cream for coffee tomorrow, but mostly to be in it, to surround myself in the muffled silence on side streets, except the scrape of occasional shovels or breaks of my own footsteps as I went past the school and obliterated the perfect horizontal plane on the sidewalk in front. That block has been untouched all weekend, its a school after all, and its not a block that needs to be passed through, there are better reasons to go around. I chose that route specifically so I could ruin the placid scene, not out of spite or anger, but just because I knew it wouldn't last anyway, so why not have a go of it.

Yesterday I used the gift card my parents sent me for Christmas and I bought the game Apples-To-Apples, and played it with [livejournal.com profile] broqued and [livejournal.com profile] foxycoxy and [livejournal.com profile] keetbabe while eating delicious chicken tenders that Keet had made for us, and I think one of my favorite parts was when Coxy trying to choose between two cards, and after she picked one I yelled out, "whatever, both cards were mine, bitches!!!" to gloat at Broqued and Keet [because there was a small group of us, we were throwing in 2 cards per round, to liven it up and increase the illusion that our odds were greater]. I think they were slightly alarmed at my outburst, then amused. I like games. I like trash-talking during games. I love the dramatics and the sense of conflict that comes from being invested in outcomes. I love getting it and giving it. Also, I had just been playing Trivial Pursuit and Encore with [livejournal.com profile] vfc the night before, and I think near the end of the night, after a lot of drinking, every other word out of our mouth to each other was bitch, sucker, or motherfucker.

I woke up this morning and lower back was seizing up and causing major pain. I've been doing ice and took some naproxen and its maybe ok, just a slightly strained muscle, but I think I'm all traumatized by my injury last fall and concerned about spinal injuries. I think I'll just go distract myself with facebook before I start googling my way into trouble. Of course, having a hurt back didn't stop me from making the best pot roast of my life today. I love those moments, when you've cooked something, and you know its going to be good, but you put it in your mouth and it complete exceeds expectations, so the surprise is almost like someone else made it. We thought there would be leftovers, but there aren't. I think I ate more than a deck of cards size portion of red meat for the week. And its only Sunday.
raybear: (red)
Not to be all Garfield, but Mondays suck. They are hard. [Which, why the hell did he hate Mondays? He was a fcking cat who didn't have to go to work or do anything substantial.] I mean, its just the whole week is stretched out in front of me and its overwhelming. Last night I had a hard time falling asleep, I had all these ideas, and today I couldn't even make it more than 3 blocks away from the house. I got to the bus stop and just said "uh-uh". So I went to the grocery store for coffee, as a lesson in gifting to my future self and having hope (i.e. I used up all the coffee and tomorrow morning I would be very happy that my self today did this). Then I came home and I'm making a cake.

I've decided to declare today is National Fake It Til You Make It Day. And I will compile all the ridiculous and powerful fortune-style affirmations that I say to myself frequently, depending on what the current monologue I'm trying to battle. Um, one or two of them might only make sense to me.

- Just because something is hard or sad doesn't mean it's 'bad'.

- It's easier to get stuck in the negative and harder to remember and cultivate the positive, but it's worth it if you manage to conquer what's harder.

- Do what you need to make it in this world.

- I'm not crazy and you're not nice.

- It could be worse....but it could also be better. It is what it is.

- Hold on.

- I am capable of a better love than what has been shown to me.

- Crutches help you walk, man.

- "Coping" is much better than the alternative, which is NOT coping.

- Fig jam + goat cheese + rye bread = delicious.

Ok, the last one isn't an affirmation, it's my lunch. But it does make me happy and inspired to think about. And even better to eat.

P.S. The tag for this entry was stolen from [livejournal.com profile] saltjam. And one of the affirmations came from [livejournal.com profile] tracijean

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