The next 50 years

if I don't own the title racist, it's because of my fragility. I just can't face the truth. If I do own my racism, or if I don't, I'm a racist. Which leads to a lot of aggressive disrespect.  Which also leads to a confirmation bias in which every act you make is either proof of your racism or a momentary slip, an exception. The more ignorant you are, the more of these proofs you'll provide. If you get angry at being so deeply examined, that too is proof. I'm ignorant. I've done and said racist things and I remember the ignorance behind them. I remember when I learned it wrong and where I learned it wrong, and I remember also when i corrected that database upon learning better.  I know too as I encounter other ideas about other people in my head from my childhood, that they also are to be questioned. I question them. I know that everyone is an exception to every rule and that rules are naught but descriptors to help us remember things.  The trouble happe...

I really want to talk about the changes I've noticed with someone but nobody wants to hear about it.  I've been on testosterone since november now, that's about four months.  I don't percieve a vocal change, though I often have a huskier voice than I expect. Mind you I often go days without talking above a murmur, talking to myself, except a word here or there in response to Dan. Anyway, I don't see it changing yet.  However, there's one weird change.  I smell different.  It's logical but surprising.  I don't smell different in my sweat, but my crotch!  My vagina was left behind after all the surgery and I guess it can still ooze lube or whatever.  It had dried out before the surgery due to the cancer killing the ovaries.  With the testosterone it started up again and I have been getting that "snail trail" effect intermittently. Some days my underwear stays damp.  Gross but natural and nothing to be done. Well it doens't smell like mushr...

he highlights my faults and dismisses his own. He highlights his virtues and dismisses mine. All to make me seem like the abuser.  he keeps me on edge and agitated all the time, putting me at my worst. Being tense causes me to be less fun and more grouchy.  It makes me clumsier and less careful and less attentive to detail. it makes me "lazy" because I'm frequently disabled by stress.  it has multiple outcomes that feed cyclicly into the stress pattern. Like how being stressed stops me from irrigating which bungs me up and causes me to feel ill. This also causes me worry.  Stress on it's own does health damage.  Even my dreams are becoming poisoned by this insane dynamic. All my positives are treated like exceptions and all his faults are treated like exceptions. Neither are balanced, it's good vs bad.  My complaints are then dismissed as fallacious and my feelings are dismissed as my bad choices. I choose to feel angry. I choose to feel abused. I choose t...

For thirty or so years I tried to earn income by finding work. By giving away my work. By getting institutional help to find work. I've tried contract work, black market work.  I've tried websites that sell your hand work,.  I've tried putting my pics on knick knacks to sell. I've tried selling my hand work on the street.  I am even now turning to fundraising. I've harvested a lot of bad advice so far. I really don't get it.  Why is it so damn hard for me to earn any money? it kind of lends creedence to my growing suspicion that money is a supernatural deity with a conscious awareness of me.  That I am being shut out by same because I so virulently speak out against it. But nobody ever hears me so... ~sigh~ My doggy needs his teeth done. He's on pain killers now. I can't even pay the fucking bills on time. it couldn't possibly be the worst time of year for it, but come on, I can only earn money for physical labour jobs intended for kids and I'm ...

Yep, I'm now at that age where I'm having health issues and it's annoying. Very. I had to go to ER after 24 hours of vomiting.  Because of an "adhesion" point on my bowel I can get blocked by too much of the wrong stuff and not enough of the right. It'sa formula.  I'm not far off the thing so it's a tuning issue and discipline issue rather than an education issue.  but monday night to thursday night in a very crowded ward full of friendly talkative people mixed with utterly miserable people have left me emotionally paid out. But now I can't stop running at the mouth. I want to tell about so much and I want to think aloud.  Most of the time with people I've been thinking super hard trying to remember to throw the conversation back at them and to hear what they're talking about and make the right faces at them. I haven't a clue what body language I'm using, that's past my line of ability, LOL  I know I use it, but not how or what ...

I ran across  this article  on facebook.  It's left me asking, what is a breakdown? What is psychosis?  Because when people try to describe a "breakdown" it sounds like they entered my mental reality for a short time and got terrified.  But of what?  What's the headspace of the average human that mine is hell to them? What's so hell about it anyway? What am I missing? Am I just a shaman unrecognized?  I know I've done a lot of the kinds of mental and physical trials that shamans go through. From the sleep deprivation to the fasting to the drugs and the labour and the cold and the adventures and privation. All of that. I wish I knew how to profit from this. I think I would be a fabulous teacher if only others would allow it. I think I could talk someone down from an existentialist crisis as well as anyone running.  I think I am enlightened but I also know that nobody out there would believe me. I think we have a very skewed myth about who and what ...

With the vlog, and being back on facebook, I use this a lot less.  But I'm growing tired of getting reactions.  When you want sympathy you get advice, and vice versa. I'm my own doctor.  See, I have read a million times how foolish that is. But nobody else knows my body better and nobody else has gone this journey with me. A doc who'd known me since childhood could vie for it, but that's it. Now ordinarily you'd not be your own doctor because you can't read the medspeak. You don't remember chemical and pharmaceutical names and the terminology is alien and the anatomy well out of your scope.  I did very well in biology.  I did a lot of secondary study on my own as well.  I learned a LOT.  Those "general biology" classes are stuffed with a lot of stuff, and when you are an avid reader plowing through entire encyclopedias and using journal libraries you get educated. I got far enough to understand what I'm reading.  I didn't get a formal educ...