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Aug. 28th, 2006 11:46 am(NB: this is a filtered post because I don't want to break things to everyone over LJ)
[edit - filter no longer applies]
If we had a nuclear war, I would go out and buy iodine drops and canned food. Sensible. I'd thought that this was because events that shock other people simply don't bother me. It may be more the case that many things bother me but I don't notice it.
Case in point: this gender thing; it keeps flickering in and out. Sometimes it seems like something to question; other times it seems like something to fix; now it seems like something to suck up - a flight of the mind that needs to be brought back to earth. Is silencing it growing up, or killing a living dream?
I feel like I'm being ridiculous. You're born how you are and they slap a label on you and you keep going. Everyone knows this. Thus, is picking at the label a serious exercise, or the next logical step in navel-gazing for idle Bohemians? Is trying to dick around with the model arrogant? Wise? Silly? As intrinsically meaningless as anything else?
A month and a bit from now will be the fiftieth annivesary of Sputnik, and the twenty-sixth anniversary of my birth. I really do wish I'd thought of this sooner, dealt with it sooner, said it to myself sooner, even seriously questioned it sooner: I wish I'd taken myself seriously. But I didn't and so here I am: two degrees and asking serious questions. What do you do? Do you drop it? Or keep going?
This is a lot to take in. I'm scared. It is about fear: shaking inside fear; in your mind, stomach hurting, intestines squishing into scared shitlessness. I see what I thought were impossibilities right in front of me and they aren't so much blows to he ego as anonymous but beautiful vivisections. How do I handle this?
Option A: Think Cthulu. I have opened up the book that is my mind, sat down and taken a good read, and now I have gone clearly gone insane.
Option B: I'm being stoic and firm when I want to be held. I really am scared. I've found something that needs to be examined and I shouldn't shy from poking questions at it.
I can approach this with shame, fear and trepidation; or confidence and pride. I can live in shame, fear and trepidation, or I can embody confidence and pride. At least this is a clear choice.
Still. Where else do I go? How do I decide who I am and who I will be?
Presumably, I play emotional detective and look for clues. Jinkies! There are clues everywhere, and they lead in all directions.
More clues to come. This isn't meant as a cliffhanger. It's meant as a stall for me to get my thoughts in order.
[edit - filter no longer applies]
If we had a nuclear war, I would go out and buy iodine drops and canned food. Sensible. I'd thought that this was because events that shock other people simply don't bother me. It may be more the case that many things bother me but I don't notice it.
Case in point: this gender thing; it keeps flickering in and out. Sometimes it seems like something to question; other times it seems like something to fix; now it seems like something to suck up - a flight of the mind that needs to be brought back to earth. Is silencing it growing up, or killing a living dream?
I feel like I'm being ridiculous. You're born how you are and they slap a label on you and you keep going. Everyone knows this. Thus, is picking at the label a serious exercise, or the next logical step in navel-gazing for idle Bohemians? Is trying to dick around with the model arrogant? Wise? Silly? As intrinsically meaningless as anything else?
A month and a bit from now will be the fiftieth annivesary of Sputnik, and the twenty-sixth anniversary of my birth. I really do wish I'd thought of this sooner, dealt with it sooner, said it to myself sooner, even seriously questioned it sooner: I wish I'd taken myself seriously. But I didn't and so here I am: two degrees and asking serious questions. What do you do? Do you drop it? Or keep going?
This is a lot to take in. I'm scared. It is about fear: shaking inside fear; in your mind, stomach hurting, intestines squishing into scared shitlessness. I see what I thought were impossibilities right in front of me and they aren't so much blows to he ego as anonymous but beautiful vivisections. How do I handle this?
Option A: Think Cthulu. I have opened up the book that is my mind, sat down and taken a good read, and now I have gone clearly gone insane.
Option B: I'm being stoic and firm when I want to be held. I really am scared. I've found something that needs to be examined and I shouldn't shy from poking questions at it.
I can approach this with shame, fear and trepidation; or confidence and pride. I can live in shame, fear and trepidation, or I can embody confidence and pride. At least this is a clear choice.
Still. Where else do I go? How do I decide who I am and who I will be?
Presumably, I play emotional detective and look for clues. Jinkies! There are clues everywhere, and they lead in all directions.
More clues to come. This isn't meant as a cliffhanger. It's meant as a stall for me to get my thoughts in order.
