søndag 23. august 2015


Today is a good day. Two friends of mine, one the giver of names, the other one described by three little words… they have their own special day. Just as I did.

I have spent some of the day picking red currants for my mother – a gift of health. Midway through the bush, I came to realize something strange: the berries reminded me of nipples. I’m exactly not sure why I thought this, but I did. The sense, the feel, the entire experience became suddenly far more intimate – I had to pick the berries with a lot more care and tenderness. There was nothing sexual about it. It was like watching a baby sleep. Peaceful. Full of bliss. And love. Having never used that particular word and concept about a plant before, I’m not finding it odd at all. Because expressing your feelings isn’t wrong, even if there most certainly are wrong ways to express them.
I find myself content.

Next month I’m going to the capital. Meeting others not so different from myself, hopefully to talk and learn a little. Conditions. Being able to stand up for who I am. I am me.

The solitude and laziness of my mind does spring a certain point of view when it comes to looking around me at the surroundings – the dust, the lack of care, unkempt and unclean. I’m not saying that it is a picture or symbol of me, even if it does make sense – for if you have little meaning in your own existence, things around you is even less important.

The feeling of love feels like a warm hug, comfortable and smiling. I remember such a hug. It was at the end of a larp. Having played one part of a deeply romantic (and secret) relationship that ended with the option of us getting married feelings came to be. It was our characters feelings, yes, and once the larp had ended, we should put those feelings aside and return to our own lives. Sometimes that’s difficult and hard to do – even if the feelings aren’t “your own” but your character’s, you still feel them. What went on (and my point in this story) is that once the larp was ended, we turned to each other, ran at each other, embraced and stood there for a very long time, just hugging. The world could have ended and we would not have cared. It was all that mattered to us, there and then.

The love I feel now isn’t like that. It’s a glow, the touch of the sun on a cloudless day without wind, with crows sending you to other places with their Craw! Craw! and insects buzzing, giving life to the silence otherwise you’re the one disturbing. The love I feel is the knowledge that there’s a special somepony out there feeling the same way.

Having somepony love you is one thing.
Feeling loved is quite another.

lørdag 8. august 2015

Frak it.

So, I’m writing this to stay awake. Been a night of almost no sleep. Been a weekend of work. Been one of those moments, just lying awake, knowing I’m about to cry and wish I’d be able to.
The night was as hot as the Sin City line.
The bed was more comfortable than a dragon’s toothache.

It’s been a week. I’ve got one dropping of the radar – granted, understandable due to reasons – but it still doesn’t make the sensation of missing and loss any easier to bare. Also, I’ve not been able to spend as much time with others dear to me as much as I’d like.

It’s been one summer I’d rather not repeat.

Come next week, I’ve got two things coming up.
One, two days of night shift and the prep for it.
Two, Commandos training and prep for it.
Other than that, I’m trying to get myself back on the track. Feels like that’s not going to happen right about now.

So, I realize by reading the few last entries here, you’ll pretty much understand what’s been going on about this “big secret” of mine. If you do, great, good for you. If you don’t, you really shouldn’t be reading this blog. I’m serious, I’m not that subtle even if I’m not making that much sense. No, seriously, if you’re clueless, shame on you.

I’m thinking about telling my siblings about what I’ll be going through.

I’m thinking about one of the main dangers that exists. The certainty of life.
And I know there’s a big difference between… Why do I even bother, Nomi said it better anyway:
“At a certain point I realized there’s a huge difference between what we work for and what we live for.



I may be alone in this fight. I may not count on much more than sporadic support. Or, the support I might get might be somewhat different. So far, there’s not been one – not one – person who’s been reacting badly to what I’ve been sharing with them. Different, that’s a given, but not one in a bad way. Some more understanding that others. Some with more knowledge than others. Some with sensitivity, some with advice, some with kind words. Raw, brutal honesty isn’t something you get so see every day.

Ever tried living in a fish bowl? Nope, me neither, but I’m imagine it’s not recommended unless you’ve got a five seconds memory span. Since I don’t have a memory span of max five seconds, I’d figure it would be pretty bad after a while. Can’t even think about all the people staring or pushing their noses up against the glass, poking it, making ugly faces at it, talking WAY to loud…
Even while being indifferent is part of who we are and what we have to do in order to survive doesn’t mean that it’s not hurting.

Try sitting with your legs crossed.

Try spending an evening doing cross road puzzles.

Try staying awake until you pass out.

Just let it go.

The Force might flow throw me. Doesn’t mean it’s strong with me. Powerful? Not really. I’ve rarely been in a position of power. And the few time I have been, I’ve squandered it. Makes sense, actually. I don’t seek power over others. I don’t seek out leading roles that much – sometimes I have to, be it because of reasons that makes sense at the time or just because I have a thing for standing in the limelight.
I’d sacrifice the limelight for happiness.

I’d sacrifice a lot for happiness.

Once, I had this image of family. It was myself, my partner and the presence of a child/children. It was morning and we were sitting around at table, eating breakfast. It was the joy of everyday life, just a normal day, nothing fancy. Dull, even.
That image isn’t something that’s going to happen. I know that know.
First, I’ll not have a child. Not biologically, at least.
Second, I’ll not be able to find myself a loving partner. Not the one I have in mind. Sorry.
Third, it’s a stupid dream that – just like many others – is just that: a dream.

Forth, I’m running out of options.
There’s no woods to walk in.
There’s no way to travel to friends on a moment’s notice.
No sushi. No take away.
No life.

Living isn’t something the dead should go on doing.
Dying is a natural part of life.

Maleficent turned bitter.

“Part of what makes your performances more convincing is that your own image isn't getting in the way. And the more you can keep it like that, the better for your work and your state of mind.”
“As an actor, I still don't really know exactly what I am doing most of the time.”
Sam Riley.

Green fire.
Green fire would be great.
Purple, too.
But I’d like it green.

tirsdag 4. august 2015

I'm proud to be me.

"…there are some things we do for ourselves, but there are some things we do for others. I am here because when I was young, I wanted very badly to be a writer, I wanted to be a filmmaker, but I couldn't find anyone like me in the world and it felt like my dreams were foreclosed simply because my gender was less typical than others. If I can be that person for someone else, then the sacrifice of my private civic life may have value."
I’m not sure if the quote is correct or even from the speech I’m linking to. But the essence of it remains true, none the less.
Turns out it wasn't. This is the one I was referring to.

This is why we’re not going to see the world we’re striving to make better in our life time. I’m not expecting it to happen. But what I do expect is that someday, someday far from now, people will scratch their heads in puzzlement about how this couldn’t be part of everyday life. This is beyond the point of honouring or even remembering the people who fought these battles for recognition and rights – this is the point of our race reaching the expected level of Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek envisioned hope for the future (but that’s taking the time of the making of the series into account).

Boy or a girl? You know, if I ever have kids – be it one or more, I’m not going to ask that question. I’ll ask if the baby – because that’s right, it’s a BABY – is all right and welcome that child(s) as best as I can to this world. I’m not going to lie, I’m not sure I’m able to – I’m still stuck in all this pre-learnt gender stuff that’s been forced down our heads. Is it X or is it Y? It IS. And that’s all there is to it.

That’s actually frightening. If I, being what I am, can’t accept someone like me, what hope is there for other beings out there? Yes, it bothers me. My own ignorant prejudice bothers me.

Come to mind is an episode that happened years ago. There was a certain gathering of a special kind of young people. One of them were transgender. And I’m ashamed to say that I was trying, unknowingly at the time, to place said person into one of the little boxes. Having gently been corrected by the one next to me – “one isn’t supposed to ask that kind of questions” – made me not only show my ignorance, but how little I knew about that world. I think what did bother me was that this wasn’t a gathering of transgenderism, but BDSM. So, I acted out of what might have been thought of as less than a horrible wrong reason, but the result was less than pleasant for the other individual.

I guess it’s true about how transgender people saying that you'll end up developing a thick skin all too quick, because the option... isn't an option.