Posted
Comments 0

...or is transgender culture far too affected by gaming, anime, and politics?

Three things I dislike, and actively work to avoid whenever I encounter them. Fantastic.

If it hadn't made it impossible for me to make any more than two internet trans friends in the past year, I wouldn't mind so much, but the frustration is nearly overwhelming at this point.

Edit for actual reasons, because complaints:

  • gaming: toxic, overly competitive, revolves around politics set by game-makers
  • anime: Japan hates trans people, you idiots
  • politics: ...

Author
Categories trans, depression

Posted
Comments 0

I actually took a hand in the ideas being put forth to make my hair look, "like an actual hair cut", as that seemed to be the on-going complaint: I asked to try having my A-line's stack brought up in the back (it was not nearly wide or open enough, and was still too close to my neck), and the front entirely left alone, long.

It turned out pretty well, though I'd still go half an inch to maybe more than an inch higher, next time, I think. I just had difficulty talking everyone else into it at the time. Much like every time I go in, I guess everyone is eager to keep the "foolish" tran from ruining her hair for a number of months.

As nice as that is, how much does that happen to cis gender children, I wonder...? I'm going to just count myself lucky. Besides, I actually do understand what looks nice. It's just that I have trouble implementing "good" things for myself. Always.

Edit: I give up on trying to attach an image collage. Textpattern is hindering my blogging more than it's benefiting it, that's for sure. I know every time I open my own site to write a post it's going to be a miserable, frustrating, depressing affair, which is why they often take a turn for the pissy.

Edit2: Note to myself, the php.ini settings Textpattern is supposed to use from the PHP distro (the apache ones) are being completely ignored by TP itself. Either Apache is stepping on its toes, or it really is just a complete POS.

Author
Categories mental health, passing

Posted
Comments 0

I traded down to the lowest-cost VPS tier I could get, and it's not the absolute lowest, but it's cheaper!

Other stuff i've been doing this week that seems pretty fruitless:

  • I tried out micro.blog
    • It's so minimal it's like writing your blog posts in a console text-editor. Too rudimentary for my needs, unfortunately, it's so limited it actually makes me feel claustrophobic just opening the site in my browser, which is pretty impressive.
  • And as you can see, I'm still posting to Textpattern
    • I know I've mentioned things I didn't care for about it in the past. I'll be honest, I don't care at all for this software. At least wordpress made writing feel pleasurable. Textpattern makes it feel far too challenging, and more like a chore.
  • Struggling to get my health insurance application processed
    • I tried over the internet/phone for weeks, and end up getting nowhere for each and every panic attack I had to suffer through to try again. It's painfully obvious my state doesn't actually want to give anyone healthcare.
    • Yes, I am eligible. They're turning me down repeatedly because I recently changed my legal name, and my guess is they think I'm trying to escape alimony or something. (I'm not doing anything shady, guys. I don't have the skill for it.)

Anyway, I don't believe there is a good social media network. Facebook and Twitter are cesspools of political discourse (which I am so disinterested in, I'm almost rabid about it). I'll be fair to Mastodon they're trying to make something usable and really open/free. It's not bad, it's just a different interface to get used to. (And new friends to make.)

Oof, and Textpattern, you're so far up the top of the baddies-list, you should seriously be watching your back. Not hard to just switch over to micro.blog, you know... :)

As far as good insurance goes, don't make me laugh. That's a contradiction in terms, and I don't believe it exists. The entire US American public should feel a disquieting, burning shame for how pathetically we let ourselves be treated. It's not even humanitarian, it's fucking pitycare. And you all let it happen, so congrats on being complete fools.

For good measure: fuck you, Donald Trump.

Author
Categories depression, depression

Posted

For as long as I can remember I have made snapshots, or "feeling diorama" memories, in my head.

I didn't really do this consciously, but at times when I had new emotions that I wasn't capable of identifying, I would store the moment away mind as best I could for future reference. I haven't any idea how I did this, or whether or not it was intentional -- however, they seem to be popping up at odd times, now that I'm transitioning. I've been trying to think about them more carefully of late, hoping to figure out what some of them mean.

It wasn't until this morning that my eye fell on a sizeable chunk of this puzzle, and now I'm tearfully admitting I'm glad it's almost 03:00 and I couldn't sleep...

Let's go back to my childhood. It was pretty normal up until puberty, which is obviously when things went off the rails a bit. Up until then, I was a fairly standard kid, with all the regular gamut of emotions. (Coincidentally, this was around the same time I must have stopped building these little "snapshots" in my mind, because ALL of them are from childhood.)

And emotions? Boy did I have them. I had them all the time. The problem was that I didn't always know quite what to call them, how to cope with them, or why I had them.

There were so many, and some of them just didn't feel great, and others were TOO good, and all the time I was trying to go to school, grow up, and figure out why I just felt so wrong all the time.

Returning to the original phrasing, my "feeling dioramas" were really just that, environmental and mental pictures. Complete, or sometimes vastly incomplete, "pictures" of any one or more of: sight, sound, odor, physical comfort (touch, temperature, discomfort, and so on), and particularly emotional state. Unfortunately, they're not always clear. And they seem to resurface at odd times, and related to dissimilar situations, so they can be surprising and sudden.

That's a lot to remember about even a piece of childhood, let alone one moment in time. So believe me when I say it's difficult to know what they mean this far after they happened. Sometimes they're so incomplete they're mere slips of feelings, and nothing more. Others are more solid; foundational. I've identified a number of fairly basic emotions rooted in the better-defined of these. (Love, resentment, anger, and so on.)

One that comes up a lot, as an example, is mostly a smell combined with a particular emotion. The smell is like smoked meat, and the feeling is poorly-contained loneliness. I associate this picture with a local store chain here for some reason, despite the fact that I'm fairly certain I "took" that picture in a local mall when I was only single-digits old. (It was tired, I wanted to go home, but couldn't. The smell of smoked sausage or something similar from a nearby store reminded me even more so of home, and forced me to reconceptualise the distance between myself and comfort: it was a long way.)

One of the "mere wisp" emotions is so vague it's like the touch of gauze: a vague feelings of loss as I wandered around my parents' old house in California. We were prepared to leave it for the last time -- for Oregon. I was making sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I think. I would have been four years old. I particularly remember the white, wooden closet doors in that house, with the thick, close-set wooden blinds set in their faux windows... It was a cute house, I wish I remembered more about it. Like the garden and back yard my parents spent so much time making theirs, that I never got to enjoy.

Another upon which I place importance is something that just feels cozy. It's absolute safety and unconditional love. Light smells of wood smoke and rain are apparent. Something feels soft and warm on my skin, and even though it's not very light or warm yet, I'm happy where I am. (Often on a winter morning that place would be snuggled cozily in bed. Somewhere I can doubtless hear breakfast being made, and the sound of my family rising and preparing for the day.)

I must have felt very safe at home at times that were common enough to imprint the wood-fired stoves we used to use to heat the house, as well as Oregon rains. Presumably it happened most often when I was attending primary school, because that's what I associate it with: fall, and going back to school. It's not even a school-related feeling, but I know part of the "comfort" in the picture comes from feeling happy I wasn't at school at the time.

This one is interesting, because I believe I stopped having it sometime right after I started... And today is the first day I felt it again for something on the order of 30 years.

I'm unable to describe exactly the incredible weight of emotions I'm feeling right now realising my diorama describes "feeling contentment" to a tee.

The worst pat is that this is the first time I've felt this way since then.

Author
Categories goodness, trans

Posted

i really can't afford to pay for hosting any more, so unfortunately this will be coming down at the end of the month.

no big loss, i have apparently not gotten as into it as i did with my wordpress blog. textpattern is... i don't know, it works really well, and it's lightweight... but it's ugly as sin, and just doesn't feel good to use.

anyway, don't look for me on twitter! i'm probably gonna just let that die as well. i'm the worst at making friends, and the ones i have made over the past year are sick of me already. that seems to happen to everyone eventually. i'm deep enough in self-loathing not to bother thinking on it too long, but apparently this is always going to happen. (it's been happening since my first real friend moved away, and said she didn't want to write me. yeah. like that.)

not sure if i will be able to afford to hold onto my domain names or not, so once i'm gone i probably am for good.

Author
Categories depression, mental health