The moon is a mysterious mistress...

I’ve got shivers. Getting hyped to see the eclipse, well… it was exhilarating. The waiting before, I mean. Spent some of it listening to the Dark Side of the Moon. Twice.

Having seen the beauty of it, the magnificent wonder of the red circle being shrouded and dimmed… I stood watching it on a rooftop in the middle of a city, basking in the spare light and the awe that followed it. Embracing it I was filled with joy – for how could such a thing not do so? Not even the whole magnificent of the dawn could stand next to it – for the briefest of moments, nothing else was real. The chill, the sensation… As I stood there, watching, I was filled with love. It was the sharing kind of love as I knew that somewhere else, someone else was standing, looking up, taking in the exact same sight as I marveled at.

The moon is a mysterious mistress.

Yet I’d not trade her for my special somepony. 

Being ancient may have forced one to be a witness to many sights and wonders. Over the eons we’re only able to glimpse bits and pieces of them. I’ll most likely not see such an astronomical event ever again. Not in my life. I’m grateful for having seen this.

I love you.

You who walk the shadow of the night, you know who you are and what you have done – I love you.

You who walk the night, fighting demons of dread and worse – I love you.

I love you more than you would ever know.

...

I also love having my Internet connection back.

This should be online two days ago.

Stupid provider for sending me a faulty router.

Butterflies, snow and ash.

So, I was at work. Well, it was between shifts. Didn’t sleep much.

Thought about my special somepony.

Life intertwines. People die. People fall in love.

Life goes on. Moves on. Half a life.

What do we chase?

What’s the sound?

Life. Such a small, fickle thing. Precious, even.
Didn’t really expect it to come to this. Although, prediction isn’t my strongest suit. Proved that again and again, haven’t I?

The ability to change and to shape the happenings around oneself is something we all do – some more than others, of course. Direct, indirect… Cause and effect.  But to end up with the desired result, that’s another story. That’s different.

Do you want my bagel?

Trucking to be picked up. Strong, confident women.

I wonder what the flowers think of us.

Being part of the Wasteland leaves one to think about certain issues. Do people who change from one gender to the next, do they tend to keep their preferences before the transition? Even as girls chase boys chase girls (or the other way around), the partner(s) we seek tells us something about ourselves. I’d like to think myself in a platonic relationship with a lovely, wonderful person. My previous drive for sexual encounters and lust for deeply sated needs as a submissive seems oddly absent. And yet I feel I’ve arrived at the point where I can stay loyal to one person and doing the best to make it work even if all evidence proves me differently. Perhaps it’s because this body isn’t something I enjoy letting others take a closer look at. It’s not shyness – I’ve got no problem changing clothes and display skin in a setting where this is required. However, when given the option, I tend to robe myself in these days. I’m not ashamed. I’m just uncomfortable. Capital, isn’t it?

Relationships are hard. Friends, family, lovers, special someponies… the list goes on.

Many of the trees were my friends. Now they’re no longer here.

The cutting of trees usually leaves me morose with a hanged head hung low for my own race.

Ah, it's hard to take pride in human history.

The aid and aim of my current search drives me slowly forward to accepting that I’m not special. Strange, that may be. Incomprehensible, sure. But not any more special than any other being. The realization of this epiphany isn’t haunting. Ghastly, perhaps, but not Gastly or Haunter.

I’m stuck in my own little time. Glad I’m not going to live forever. As a vampire uttered: “The world changes. We do not. Therein lies the irony that kills us.” And people still don’t get while I prefer werewolves over frozen stagnation...
C'mon, shapeshifter isn't a big enough clue?

True to the Santiago sense of trouble and mischievous sentiment Littlepip would be proud.
Even Fallout: Equestria.

Being Fluttershy in the big city. Coming Home.

It's a strange thing to suffer so much doubt and fear for such a little thing. Although, to me it's not a small thing.

I could go on about how meeting others like me was strange - at first it was a bit terrifying - but then people were so accepting. What I enjoyed most the last weekend was how normal everything was.
And how glad I am for it.

It hurts, at first. Then it doesn't. The millions subjected to change.The transcendence of not just a fate woven by forces outside of control. Still, there's something familiar with this place.

Just like going back to the sunbathed city I learned to know so well, fully knowing that this isn't just a stop on the road to somewhere else, but that this is home. I've got friends living there. The education I'm working on has an offer at a nearby university within the vicinity of public transportation. Former co-workers who's turned out to be friends and a job that would welcome me back with open arms if I asked kindly.

I find myself without a person to hold on to and sleep next at.

I find myself content with my present relationship (or lack of such).

Yes, I do got a special somepony.

To be frank, I can't call others "my special somepony" because doing so would be lying.

As I try to be an honest person, or at least as much as I can...

I don't like lying, deceiving and dishonesty.

I'm not going to tell you about my special somepony.

It's not my place.

In my place, lost as lost can be, I have feelings. And my feelings tell me that until my special somepony and I agree to change the nature of our relationship I don't want something else. I don't need something else or even someone else. Because I have a very special somepony of my own.
And that's all there is to say about that.

People seek out different things. I was never one to go clubbing. I was one to sit in the sun with a drink of chilled, sparkling water in a tall glass pretending it was champagne. At least while I wrote this.

I got to say hello to the bartender I had a crush on, too. I still like her. She's the kind of person I'd like to marry (if it turns out I'm the marrying kind). Not sure what my special somepony thinks about that - it's not something we've talked about. Marrying, I mean.

I'm going back to the place where I feel I belong.

Love

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.

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.

Frak.

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.”

Yeah.

Yah.

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.

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."

Lana Wachowski

 

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.

The internet makes many things easier, that much is true.

Yet we’re still riding wild horses, suffering dull pain and arches. Staged ques, unfairness and villains. And I still can’t feel bitter about it or treat you unkind. As broken faith leaves tears, dreams of lies, sins and the ponies that connects them… It’s time to dismount.

It’s time to find a cutie mark.

Together.

I may have been mistaken.

I may be emotional – I may be down.

Doesn’t really matter, does it?

One life. One little Human being.

Waiting.

Struggling.

Realizing what’s going to happen.

It’s funny, isn’t it.

No. No, not really.

No existential swim for me.

I find it hard to keep focus.

Isolation.

I can feel my hearth beating.

Hard.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid.

Talks. Some good. Others not.

And I can’t pick up the phone.

Don’t talk of bombs, cars or murder.

Don’t think about killing, death and partners.

Can’t sing.

Not that it would matter.

Can’t make the call.

Should.

But can’t.

“You need to arm yourself with information.”

All it took a friendly suggestion from a random, yet wonderful connection I’ve recently learned to appreciate.*

---

The title is the advice I plan to follow. I’m going to seek out others who’s been through what I intend to do, asking them questions and hear their stories – learning about possible pitfalls and what to do in different situations that may arise. I’m going to take the time to do extensive research on the subject. Be forearmed about the challenges I will face. Self-re-discovery. I need to take all the time I need to understand my transition and understand what I want from this. Some people never go through with reassignment and live perfectly happy lives with their new identities. I wasn't sure I’ll be able to do this since in my mind, I had skipped this bit already – wanting to rush forward and get it over with. Guess that's just a normal human response to these things.

“You can sit and read all the wishy washy stories people post on the internet about their transitions which are nice and full of hope. But they're no substitute for actually being able to speak with someone who has gone through it all and can answer your questions and help you understand what you should be teaching yourself.”

Slow down. Educate oneself. It's the same with everything, but it's especially important for something so profoundly life changing.

To have a full awareness of the issues one could potentially have to deal with in one’s life so one can figure out how to deal with them should one ever face them - hence the recommendation of getting in contact with people who have experience to share.

 “There's a whole community of people out there ready and willing to embrace you for who you are and give you the benefit of their experience. All you have to do is reach out and they'll reach back.”

---

*”Family is an important thing in life: no argue there. But you can`t define yourself by other people. Life is to short, you have to be your own man (or woman). Otherwise, you will always strive to make others happy, not yourself. And to take care of others, first one must know to care of oneself.”

Slice of life - have a slice of my life.

So this happened at work today (aka yesterday):

My supervisor takes me to the side and asks me if I’ve been having fun at the expense of the new intern/summer temp. Baffled, I replied no. She then said that there was some “rumors” going around and that I’ve been acting… less than professional. Now, I’m stunned and my supervisor asks me if I had any idea what she was talking about – and I’ve got no idea. I’ve just been myself. Clearly, that was offensive – me being friendly, trying to be supportive and casual made this new co-worker uncomfortable. This proves two things – that the new intern is far too young to work in this kind of environment (man, I remember that I’ve had quite some shocks when I started in the business over seven years ago) and that my current work location is WAY too much conservative for me.

I promised my supervisor I'd be more professional in said co-worker's vicinity from here on now.

Getting back home, slightly discontent and mildly upset, I went to watch some blind reactions to A SLICE OF LIFE – having seen that episode plenty o’times already. Fun fact, they’ve got too many references to even notice them all the first time (hint: it helps if you’re focusing on the episode instead of commenting on it). I’m glad (And proud!) to say that I got the trio from the bowling the first time they appeared on my screen.

Having now watched several of blind reacts to this episode (in fact, I’ve lost count on how many I’ve seen), I’ve got maybe two who’d I’d watch again. Others… not so much.

However, it’s nice to see different people, fans and all sorts of Bronies gets excited about it – not to mention what the particular kind “gets” and what’s slipping past them. At some point, there’s going to be a study about this. I just know it. But I’m not going to do it. Almost makes me wish I’d taped my reactions to the episode and uploaded it to YouTube. Almost. Yeah. That and the message.

A roleplaying game (RPG) is a type of game where players assume the roles of fictional characters via improvisations. At its core, an RPG is a form of interactive and collaborative storytelling. Whereas cinema, novels and television shows are passive, RPGs engage the participants actively, allowing them to simultaneously be audience, actor, and author.

In case you didn't knew that.

Someday, I’d like to be able to sing Let It Go. I’m talking full costume, hair styled in the same fashion… the whole thing, only slightly different because it’s going to be me and not Elsa. I mean, sure, I’ve stepped into the shoes of Prince Hamlet and spoken the words “to be or not to be” (although it was at my mother tongue at the time, thus making them “å være eller å ikke være” – strange Norwegian letters ftw), portrayed a Norse God (as well as a Jotne (that’s like the intelligent, smaller cousin of a Troll – think of them what Goblins are to Orcs if that helps you get the idea) in the same play), been Willy from Where is Willy for an evening (that was fun) and made (almost) an entire LARP crew hate, dislike or want to murder me based on my performance as a (much) darker Rhett Butler inspired blockade runner Captain (filthy rich, smug, self-centered and spoiled – not to mention spiteful and a beater of his wife)… The point is, I think I can do a fairly decent Elsa.

And I think it would be good for me, too.

a kiss in the dark

One of my favorite thinkers, Gonzalo Lira, wrote a blog the other day where he said, "I'm down. I'm really down. I'm waiting for something. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I'll know it when I see it." That's a beautiful thing. I felt really moved by the fact that this brilliant guy could stop in the middle of everything and admit that. No bullshit; just sharing the truth. People responded and started telling him what he should do with his life. They were all trying to be rescuers... But he didn't need rescuing. He didn't need to be fixed. He was just being honest. To me, that's the real power of all of this... We're sharing ideas. We're sharing the truth...

Lance Henriksen

Insignificant self inflicted rant.

After turning twenty-eight, I knew I wasn’t going to join the 27 club, so I made a drastic life changing decision instead.  I’m not yet ready to talk about it publicly, but if you read this and know what I’m referring to, then please keep it to yourself.

A former friend and coworker of mine once uttered the sentence “smile with sound” – come to think about it, it’s true. Even smiling silently makes noises of it’s own. Sort of.

I keep way to much stuff around.

Having spent the last days going through old clothing that no longer fit or will become unfit, I’ve yet to turn my eye at the junk that keeps on collecting around me – old birthday presents, gifts, random things I bought for an occasion that most likely will never happen… I’ve begun sorting through some items and done some hard choices, but I fear that several more is to come. I only wish that my resolve will not wither away.

I’m a brony. There. That’s one thing that’s become obvious, but that I’ll say out loud none the less.

Being me I’ve been neglecting myself in ways that will come back and haunt me later. But for now, I don’t really care – I’m who I am, I’m not giving in and despite it all, friends do really make the magic.

I don’t think I’m fit for being an officer.