So I pretty much came out to my mum as genderqueer over email when we were both entirely sober. She's not yet responded. Lalalalalala.
Also I've not spoken to another living being aloud for like a fucking week, I am such a social failure, everyone else has things to do Friday night, etc. etc. bla bla bla
Jesus, I don't know if this is just hormones or my brain being extra fucked up tonight but I've been sitting here for the last ten minutes basically having a panic attack because there are so many things I hate about myself. Which is a disgusting cliche, and I really should be over this sort of thing, I've spent lots of time reassuring myself that I am logically not a fuckup of a person and reassuring other people that they are not fuckups and the sheer irrationality of this is fucking humiliating.
So first week of classes went well. I've only got six and a half contact hours a week, which is super wierd and leaves me with a giant midweek gap between Monday and Friday when I've got no classes. But the classes themselves look to be fun. Though my Lit and Film class is giant for an English class. It takes place in a lecture hall and I don't like that aspect of it. Quota all your english courses, guys, come on now.
So I'm all moved into my room, and have my courses picked out and can get from one end of campus to the other without getting egregiously lost. I've yet to find the queer group on campus, find the newspaper writing staff on campus, or find the environmental club. But that'll come. I share my hall with a lovely French girl, an American dude who seems nice enough, and an empty room. The other side of the flat is full of a group of guys from Hong Kong, I believe, but we don't see very much of them. Upstairs is mostly British students, and one Australian and one other American.
So I am in England. I am also ill and feverish, which is just lovely. I move into res tomorrow. I have no fucking idea what I am doing.
So basically, the queer group I'm part of is made up of giant dorks, and therefore we somehow thought making a video would be a good idea. It was originally supposed to be an It Gets Better project, but I don't know if it really qualifies. It does, however, qualify as the most embarrassing thing I've been a part of this year.~
So at queer discussion group Saturday night I got to have a nice long rant with two other people about how uncomfortable Luna made us and how poorly it was written. It was super super satisfying. And then the Second Cup where we were meeting gave us free baked goods, which was also satisfying.
I've spent the evening feeling irrationally listless and sensitive and it's pissing me off. I'd really like to get some guys' clothes but I can't realistically afford the prices of ordering off the internet, plus shipping to Canada, and I'm paranoid about sizing.
So you know when you first start coming out and you try to read allll the queer teen books ever? And then you realize how bad most queer young adult lit is? Yeah. So I've been experiencing a bit of a renaissance for no particular reason I can pin down. Possibly extreme boredom.
So I went camping this weekend, which was pretty great over all (I tried smores for the first time!) That being said, I actually had a moment when I mentally flinched at something someone said that clearly gendered me, which is strange because I'm usually pretty chill about it, not including when my roommate is wierd about/blatantly points out my breasts --protip: just 'cause you're not attracted to them doesn't mean you've got to make them out to be alien life forms-- and it took me by surprise.
This was going to be a post about how Gabe Saporta and his stupud face and stupid band make me really happy and I don't know how I feel about that, followed by some commentary on forced religion in weddings and how far one should comprimise, but instead it turned into a post about making use of your mobile phone and how awesome my mother is. Idk.
In summary: gender: confusing, relationships: not confusing, bloody Torchwood.
1. Gender is so bloody confusing, what even? It's ridiculous to feel like a boy who, if born male, would likely want to transition to female of some sort anyway. Oughtn't that just be called being a girl? What is up with that, self? ...Why yes, I have been reading everything on Genderfork to make myself feel better, why do you ask? Next step is rereading Gender Trouble.
2. I has a second date on Wednesday!
So last night I saw Beginners (Ccaptain Von Trapp, you got old!) which was not as sad as one might expect from a movie about a man dying of cancer. I'm going to see X-Men tonight, because apparently it is my week o' queer movies -- I mean, what. ;D
I've also started following Genderfork on twitter, which makes me all kinds of happy.
Sometimes I feel that once one has taken on the role of the leader, of the advocate, the organizer, the vice-president of a fucking non-profit, ffs, one is no longer allowed to have identity-related crises. I am meant to have my own shit together so that I can help those who do not. I am 21. I am too old for the gender-related frustration to come back, I thought I'd gotten over that in high school. but I think things like fucking academia and fucking bandom have brought it all back to the front.