cassaclyzm: (Damn hawt I tells ya)
Family Day, today. Yes, I have one of those weird families that has a yearly get-together that we actually call "Family Day" without blinking. I've only missed a few years while I was growing up, and it's really strange to look back and see how much has changed. All my uncles are old(ish - grey hair, anyway) now. They all have different wives than they had when I was a kid, or are bachelors again. Only one of my cousins was there. Instead the next generation of pint-sized terrors was running around, Kame-Hame-Ha-ing each other at 10PM like they'd just leaped out of bed that morning.

My uncles start conversations with me by asking me how my job is going.

Wait, when'd this "grown up" thing happen to me? Why can't I be running around, cowering and screaming in fear of The Branch Man and seeing how far I can jump off the front porch? (I mean, I guess I could still do that, but I think it would lose something. And possibly cause me to damage myself.)


(At least I'm not in the same boat as my uncles and my mom, who can still remember when the HUGE pine tree was small enough for them to jump over.)
cassaclyzm: (Other Hat)
I just posted this as a comment in [livejournal.com profile] epi_lj's journal, but I thought I'd put it here because it sums up fairly well some of the stuff that's been hanging around in the back of my mind for the past while. Please excuse the repeated use of the term "gay". I just wasn't in the mood to say "queer" when I wrote it, I guess.

I don't think I've ever actually sat down and gone, "Mom, Dad, I'm gay". There are a few reasons for that... not the least of which is the fact that it isn't that easy. It's more like: "Mom, Dad, I'm mentally male but relatively happy with the body I wound up with, barring the fact that my voice feels high and squeaky. I like girls. I also like boys, but don't know how effectively I could have a relationship with one. Um. And I still like to dress up as a girl, but then I'm in drag. Y'know, like drag queens. Uh, are you following all of this?"

Another reason I've never felt like I really had to make an issue of coming out is the fact that my folks (my mom, anyway) have always made it clear that "being gay is okay". They have gay friends that they've known their whole lives - hell, my mom even has a female friend who had a crush on her! So considering I've been mostly celibate for the past couple of years, there really hasn't been any need to bring the issue up.

Then again, it's not as though I hide it, either. I make comments in their presence about girls (and boys) I think are attractive. I use terms like "we" when referring to Pride parades and general queer movements. So I'm pretty sure they've caught on by now.

What's problematic, of course, is the fact that I don't know what, exactly, they've caught on to. Do they just think I'm gay? Have they caught wind of the gender issues? The thought of officially "coming out" to my parents as transgendered is really scary. I think there are two reasons for it. The first is that I'm conflicted about causing them anguish over "losing a daughter" - will they feel that my past as their little girl is invalid? The second is that I'm not sure yet what action I'm going to take... will I stay in this genderqueer space for the rest of my life, or will I transition at some point? If so, what form will that transition take? I don't know yet.
cassaclyzm: (Suave)
Well, I'm a teensy bit miffed at my driving instructor, but I think I'm mostly just reeling a bit from having to figure out, first hand, just exactly how distractable I really am. I seem to be having a real problem with, y'know, watching the road. I get to an intersection and I have a hard time taking my eyes away from that ever-looming opposite street from whence I expect a car to leap out at me at any given moment. Oncoming cars are a particular menace. I don't have a feeling for where my car actually is on the road. Judging distance also eludes me, though I already knew that (is it 15 feet away? Is it 30? I couldn't tell you, to be honest.)

My instructor said to me... )

I like the guy, and I like that he's thorough and never lets me get away with anything (actually, I'm going to bug him to make me check my mirror more next time), and he always compliments me when I do things well. I really think that this is more a me problem, though I wish I had a better idea of what it was, or how to fix it.

Yeah, so obviously I'm going to be processing this for a while. Any feedback would be great.

It's probably a good thing that I'm going to see mum's Dinner Theatre show tonight with my grandmother. That'll be a great distraction. I'm looking forward to seeing it (and to the meal, to - they have great seafood, from what I've heard.)
cassaclyzm: (Suave)
I think I managed to sleep off that impending sickness I mentioned yesterday. I don't know if it was worth it for the creeptacular and eerily vivid dreams I had for my 13-ish hours of sleep. I usually dream of warped versions of real places - I'll recognize it as being an old school, or the market uptown, etc, but it'll be fragmented and generally unrecognizable in a visual sense. Last night was the first time I remember dreaming about a real street, in my home city, which was uncharacteristically geographically sound.

And apparently I'm in "long words mode" today. Yeek.

Cut for dream-related thoughts about my nekkid butt, and other such nonsense. )


* Term chosen for humour value, not because I ever actually use it. I don't think I could say it with a straight face if my life depended on it.
** It might be of interest to note that I usually dream in a combination of first and third person. I see myself from the outside, but I always experience the events and thoughts in first person. I also usually both see and perceive myself as male (usually a thinner version of what I really look like - I wonder if, when I physically reach that size, anything interesting will come up?) I don't think I've ever had a dream in which I've been aware of having biologically male genitals, though - either they're completely "unmentioned" or unseen, or I know them to be female. I'm also almost always flat-chested.
cassaclyzm: (Damn hawt I tells ya)
I've been threatening for a while to write a journal entry or eight about some gender / sexuality / body image / self id / life / the universe / everything issues that I've been noodling about lately. Here's the first, posted publicly in hopes that it will remind me to keep it light to start out. Will probably be pretty text heavy, but interspersed with some fun "then and now" pics for your viewing pleasure.



It's about four-thirty in the afternoon on a crisp, sunny day in March, 2003. I'm standing on the deck behind my house in sock feet, carefully avoiding patches of what's left of the snow that has melted and frozen again over the past week. My mother, always practical, decides to wear her slippers. I've dragged her outside with her camera, the one I have to show her how to use since I'm the one who's taken a half-assed course and actually know what all the dials mean.

There is makeup on my face. Not much; enough to help smooth over the acne and add a touch of colour to my lips. My mother, bless her, climbs up on the bench at my suggestion and takes the pictures from above, to hide my double chin. She snaps a few shots. I lean on the deck table and pose with my head cocked coyly to the side. "Oh my - cleavage!" says my mom, snapping a picture.

Well, that was the point, after all, wasn't it? )

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