I went to Rocky Horror (agaaain) last night. In drag. Well, I don't know what it looked like other others, but I felt like I was in drag, in my binder and packing in my boxerbriefs, with my men's flannel shirt knotted around my hips and my hairy but not hairy enough legs (i haven't shaved since june and you have to legitimately search to find the leg hair) poking out of my denim skirt, with my supershort hair and drag queen makeup and one dangly earing.
Let's get the gendershit out of the way. So I switched over to male pronouns for like a week, just to hear it come out of a few peoples' mouths. And it scared me and excited me but the conclusion that I came to, after it all, was that it isn't actually me.
so there was an untamed fit of dysphoria and... this happened:
This weekend was amazing... where to start? The beginning, I suppose.
We drove to new york. Me and Shannon got out of my parents car at 80th and walked down into the park, stopping to buy peanut butter. we had a picnic and then went to the natural history museum. After that, we got lost as fuck trying to get to my friend's apartment downtown... made it there just in time to leave to go to poetry at the Bowery poetry club, where i competed and came in second and that was TOO awesome. I'm going to record a video of the more appropriate poem I slammed and I'll post a link.
I'm getting ready for the awesomest weekend in history. Friend Shannon and I are going up to new york city to dance in an israeli dance festival, but we're going a day early so we can picnic in central park, go see the dinosaurs, and hit up a poetry slam. I cannot WAIT.
IMPORTANT! IF THERE ARE ANY LESBIANS HERE WHO ARE INTERESTED IN JOINING A COLLAB CHANNEL ON YOUTUBE, PLEAAAAAASE PM ME! WE NEED PEOPLE!
well, good and bad.
I was going to drive six hours with three of my best friends to see a slam poet in western massachusetts over easter weekend, but my parents said no.
Today was a good day, with bits of bad. We'll do bad first, to get it out of the way.
I'm in this Israeli Dance group that I really like, a lot, except for the costumes. We had to try on costumes for our performance next week. Leotards and skirts? Blech. Not good.
But I can deal with it, whatever, I'm a big boy, and I like dancing and it's a costume. Except for today, I forgot my girl-underwear. I had on boxers and my binder... anyway. It's like, I don't feel dysphoric about my body... just the fact that my clothing choices never work correctly.
Not that I'm picking a new name to go by all the time, but... well, I want a name for the masculine side of me, whether he eventually becomes the always side of me or not. Charles is a little stuffy and Will is a little gutteral... so it's time to list the options. In categories.
the list in the baby book
(some of these suck. I'm listing them all for full disclosure, but the ones that younger cousins got and the ones that are stupid, I crossed out)
so it's late late at night and Emily and I are skyping. I'm talking to her about my binder and make an offhand comment about how it's possible that my breasts have taken on a slightly different shape now that I've been wearing it a lot, but it's also equally possible that I'm just worried that it might happen and making things up.
We talk about my boobs for a few minutes before Emily almost smiles, then stops, and says "wow, I almost said something really douchey."
I raise an eyebrow.' "Oh?"
"I almost said, 'whatever, as long as you don't cut them off.'"
first of all: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OQqGp_ZL-A&feature=channel_video_title
if you follow my journals here you'll notice that the first stanza was taken almost directly from a journal entry.
So I'm icing cupcakes and rambling about school to my mom and suddenly she goes "what are you wearing thats squishing down your boobs?"
"... a binder."
"Doesnt it hurt you?"
"Honestly, I forget that I'm wearing it."
"Won't it do damage?"
I have done so much crying today for absolutely no logical reason.
Mostly, I've been reading the third Hunger Games book. Which made me cry about once per chapter. I don't deal well with war, real or fictional.
I'm sorry I've been so absent the past couple weeks. Life is as always craziness. Lessee, news... my poetry team got into Brave New Voices, which is awesome. It's warming up and becoming spring and everything is suddenly soon- graduation, my road trip with friends to see Andrea Gibson in Western Massachusetts, college.
But in a good way.
Disclaimer: This is way, way whinier than I ever usually am. This post contains illogical feelings, mild sexual content, unrequited crush, and overall completely disregard for the fact that I adore my girlfriend.
I'm at work, in the little dog room, tossing a ball for the puppies and listening to commercials on the local indie radio station. Then she pops her head in, shouts over the din of suddenly barking dogs, "I win!!!"
"You don't remember this but we made a bet a while back and I WIN."
WARNING: sexual content shall follow.
Emily and I process about sex more than I have ever processed about sex in any relationship before. It's possible that this is because we cannot actually HAVE sex. We just talk about it. We'll start on skype, joking about about something, and one of us will lapse into fantasy. Usually me. So usually her says
"What are you thinking about?"
Yesterday might've been the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Okay, that's a hyperbole. I don't care.
So first, I went to school, and that was... school. At 1:45, I went to the office and gave them my early dismissal note: "Please Excuse Hilde from school at 1:45 on March 11. She is going to New York to see her favorite queer theorist lecture about Israel. Thank you. [my mom's real and authentic signature]"