the last few days.....

I'VE BEEN SO BUSY WITH BEING NOT DEAD. Here are some little things i'd like to shareee!

Last night I went to a meeting to learn how to use quickbooks. An accounting program with cute icons. I ended up three hours later having learned all about entering information and on my way to dessert with old friends. I love numbers, but not as much as I love mud pie. Its funny, I hate money, but I love accounting.

We got some brews and had some giggle-fits before turning in.

I woke up on a couch with that "where the fuck am I?" panic. After finding my pants I remembered I was in my friends apartment. I was in my friends apartment and she and her girlfriend were sleeping in her bed a few feet from me. Water, I needed water. The dishes were overflowing from the sink, so I just reached an grabbed and hoped it wasn't too gross.

They woke up, even though i was trying very hard to be quiet. I'm not very sneaky.

I'm not sneaky at all. Which works in my favor, because it forces me out into the open about everything. I like being out in the open. So do the people I choose my as my friends. The couple in the bed across from me is no different. They're swingers, lushes, people with histories, and stories.

We went and got coffee and talked about the bizarre dreams we had the night before.

Its strange to me that the people closest to me, or that i enjoy the company of most, happen to be couples. My best friends Lo and Davy are engaged and amazing, the couple I had coffee with, Alex and Sima, are fucking hilarious and adorable. They never make me feel like a third wheel though.

I'm more like, well, a little sister or a guest of honor. Its fun to feel special.

On a completely different note:

GUESS WHAT I GOT TO DO TODAY!

It was "mad science" day at the day care I work at. That means I got to play with all sorts of disgusting gooby gooey things. Worms with rings hidden in them, chunky slimy guts, ghostly gack, dry ice, vinegar+baking soda. and bright orange smacking gooby stuff. It was amazing. You can be jealous.

Oh, andddd.....

Tomorrow, my little babes are all going to be dressed up. 2 year olds as lions! Five year olds as batman! Someone is gonna be a UPS driver! I don't actually have a costume! My boss/grandmother is going to be a fifties sock hop girl, so maybe I'll go as a greaser. I got a tunic and could belt it to be Peter Pan. Or, I could be a fairy. Or a mouse. Or a sexy sexy anything, in the evening at least.

I have too many costume ideas and not enough time.

And a different note:

My queer porn career starts this weekend, I'm going to be an adorable transboys birthday gift tomorrow, and we are going to figure out some rough ideas for the porn shoot we'll be doing together over the next few weeks.

dr. love?

No. I have no doctor love.

Seriously, doctors and I haven't gotten along very much in my life. This is for no reason other than my simple detest for tests. What's the point? They have this tendency to never really determine anything for me. I always aced tests in school, and still failed my classes. I passed my driving test, and three accidents and two speeding tickets later, i still feel no safer on the road. The results don't do anything but pass judgement.

Tests at the doctors are no different.

I spent three hours in the doctors office today. Sitting around, waiting to be seen, and then waiting for test results. Do you have strep? Let's test. Nope.

Do you have mono? Let's test!

Nope.

Well, we're going to put you on drugs anyway. Just because we can.

Thanks doctor.

Thanks.

I could have been in bed watching gay movies and cuddling with sealie for these last three hours, but instead you kept me sitting around waiting for results that DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING.

This is why I don't feel bad asking for something for the pain. My tonsils are inflamed, and look horrific. It should hurt a lot more than it does, and I am aware of this. So, I asked for pain pills.

She wrote the prescription and I had a little party in my head.

Not because I abuse medication in anyway, or sell it like i did in middleschool, but because next time i'm in dire amounts of pain and can't sleep: I HAVE VICODIN.

This makes me very giddy.

I get sick a lot. I get injured a lot. I have cramps that would make any person with incredible tolerance and a thing for pain, cry. And, I don't like doctors.

However, I am anything but a germ-a-phobe. Food fell on the floor? Whatevers, its still yummy. You just sneezed on me? Meh. Have a nasty flu, but also a delicious drink? Your flu doesn't make me any less thirsty. Puking baby? Running nose and gobby eyes? Baby is still cute and cuddle.

My dad used to sanitize the door knobs in our house anytime someone coughed. He made me touch everything through a washcloth when I got sick.

Safe to say, dad and I don't get along, but more on that later.

Its really important to me to be healthy. But my physical health has a tendency to come last, like the middle child. I look after my mental health. I watch it like a baby who just learned how to walk, begging them to not fall down the stairs and break. Even when they seem to get the hang of things, i find myself looking over and checking in every few minutes, just to make sure. Social health? That one takes care of themselves. I can send them out into the woods for five days without food and water, and they will come back, full and friends with the bears. They are truly self sufficient. Physical health is my shortcoming.

There are all sorts of ways to be healthy, but letting one aspect of your health go is not one of those ways.

Luckily, I have a nurse mommy. Who brings my home popsicals even if I'm her nineteen year old failure. Its funny with how much I hate doctors, nurses are fantastic.

I was planning on talking about getting tested for STD/I's today which are the only tests ever worth it, even if petrifying, but I'm too tired to start talking about sexual health.

And I have stand up comedy to watch as I avoid the work I should be doing.

xoxo.

Ouchie!

I hit my head on a corner of a cabinet. As if it didn't hurt already. My hearing went all fuzzy and I couldn't move for a second. Scary stuff kids.

But I called up Evergreen Healthline and talked to a nurse! You can call anytime from anywhere and talk to a nurse about anything. Your friend is puking and convolsing after doing too much coke? Your lower region smell funny? You blew off your hand with a firecracker? Hair falling out? Feel cold all the time? Hallucinating? Have the sniffles?

You can call. And get some advice. Confidential, quick, and friendly.

425 899 3000

I think mandated reporting law apply. So if you are going to harm yourself, or harm others, you should still call- but I don't guarantee they won't pick you on a watch.

In lighter news, definitely watching the secret garden and feeling like poop. I took a five hour energy yesterday and woke up feeling like there was a party in my head and I wasn't invited. It was like a caffine hangover that wouldnt end. I was supposed to clean house today!

Oh, but this movie is so wonderful.

Can't

tear

myself

away.

I wanted to talk about something a little more serious today. I have a friend who is in an emotionally abusive relationship. Okay, well I generally have a couple friends in not-so-healthy relationships, but this one worries me more than the rest.

She keeps going back to them. I sat her down and read her a list of signs of an emotionally abusive relationship, and her dating rights. She is aware she is being abused, but doesn't value herself enough to leave. Doesn't think she can leave.

I have been in several abusive and unhealthy relationships. The longest one went on for over a year. I was so in love with this girl, that I didn't care how she treated me. She really had little to no respect for me.

Everything I was, was a mockery to her.

My gender identity? It was dumb, and not factual. Being off anything other than male or female was a waste of time and not possible.

My boundaries? No means ask again. Again and again and again until I gave up and fucked her. She would make me feel incredibly guilty and selfish if I didn't. What's worse? In the middle of our relationship, I was diagnosed with PTSD and hospitalized, she was out of town. When I got out and she got back, she wanted things to be exactly like they used to be.

One time, I told her I wished she would compliment me on something other than my body. She laughed. She laughed for about an hour, and asked if she could tell her friend what I just said, because my want to be recognized as a person was just so hilarious.

Don't get my wrong, there was good too. We talked a lot, had really great communication skills, and had a lot of fun together. She would bring me flowers and I would take her out to dinner. She held me when I had flashbacks, and appreciated everything I did for her.

The good is not worth the bad. Relationships that don't make you feel good about yourself aren't good for you, generally. Get out. Get help. Its never simple, but its always the healthier thing to do.

I have a long history of sexual assault, emotional abuse, dating violence, and being with jerks. A lot of people do. Especially in communities of minorities, sexual and otherwise. I let girls, bois. qenderfucks, treat me like crap because I didn't know what a healthy queer relationship looked like. I didn't have any role models showing me. I couldn't turn on the tv and see models of healthy relationships, or unhealthy relationships or any relationship like I would be having.

Some resources:

http://www.safeschoolscoalition.org/RG-datingviolence.html

^ very queer local resources.

http://lovegoodbadugly.com/

^ not so radical in language, but great concepts.

And just a little extra something I try to always keep in mind.

xoxoxo.

OLD.

Hey guys.

HEY GUYS.

Today is my birthday!

I am another year older. One more year not dead! WOO!

No, but seriously, one more year not dead is a huge accomplishment for me. With the way I live, drive, drink, dance, runaway and do crazy things, trust people, yada, its amazing I've made it this far.

I have had some crazy birthday celebrations in years past, there was the green and pink party when I turned 14. Everything was pink and green. EVERYTHING.

The Rainbow Fish party when I was 7, and we put blue transparent paper on the windows. The room felt like an ocean. I wore a fuzzy green shirt with a flower on it.

The year I wore a pink tutu and fishnets to school, a princess shirt, and a tiara. I was in the seventh grade.

Yeah.

Last year, when I ate velvetta with my family, and got molly moon's with my friends.

The year before, I was working. My mom brought baby cupcakes and my coworker shove a bunch in has mouth and said chubby bunny.

Birthdays have never been exciting or important to me.

But, I'm celebrating this one by going to films form the queer underground, eatting dinner with my grandmother, and then breaking into the radical feminist queer porn scene.

Thats right.

Porn, my friends.

I am going to be your neighborhood sex worker. More or less.

Now now. Don't be shocked. You know I don't do anything for shock factor. (Or, well, you should/do now).

I've always been like this. Open, honest, sexy. Now I'm just getting paid for it.

And I am soooo excited.

You should be excited too.

Given my history of sexual assault, I believe this will be a liberating experience. I am reclaiming power of my body and my sex life, owning it. I'll let you know how it goes.

Um...

I'm not shy.

Its one of the first things people notice about me. I am outgoing, unreserved, and a fierce blunt sweet-as-pie-but-don't-mess-with-my-friends kind of kid. I am articulate, personable, outspoken, vibrant, and strong.

But,

But but but,

I'm in this class.

This amazing, life changing, I-am-so-glad-to-be-here, class.

This class with people I have heard about, people I have seen pe

rform, seen around. People whose voices shatter my very existence, and words stir inside of me till I am too twisted to speak. Seriously, I sit in the class and scribble down the words "i am not worthy" "i am not enough" over and over again.

Until I get up to speak. The moment I stand in front of them is a panic filled explosion desperate for approval and gratification. Then, mouth closed being faced with silence, is exhilarating. Its liberating. Its like being lifted to meet my maker and told everything I've ever need to hear.

When I sit back down though, well, I'm back to being a wall flower. Shy, vulnerable, fragment of my former self.

I am going to learn how to live for the moments of lift. I am going to forget the rest.

By the way, seinfield still makes me miss someone I shouldn't miss. And I love it.

a brief introduction:

I like the trailers.

I like putting my feet up on the seat in front of me and becoming engaged in the movie.

I steal crayons. And spoons. And lighters.

Sometimes, I go home in other peoples clothes because it makes me feel less alone.

I am learning how to be alone.

I had a paper cut on my nose, which I got from falling asleep in a book.

I told people about it very sheepishly.

My best friend/boyfriend is a stuffed animal seal. His name is Sealie.

One time I was puking from alcohol poisoning, this has only happened one time, and I was cuddling my puke bucket. My friend asked me if I wanted Sealie.

My response: Sealie cannot be corrupted by this.

Silliness is in my blood. It is what I revert to when I am blacked out drunk.

Thus, I work in a daycare. A 'nursery' that lacks mother goose rhymes, unfortunately.

I devour books.

I have become a wordsmith.

I cannot do a cartwheel, but I can smoke a carton, wear suspenders, worship bowties, use my thrift.

I am my mothers daughter. I like to bake, and decorate. Party planning and nannying are potential careers for me. I am a helper.

A compulsive volunteer who needs to dedicate more time to herself. Someone completely invested in their community. Someone

constantly falling in love with the world, with people,

with ideas, and movements. Someone who cares. A nurturer. A beautiful, courageous, incredibly strong person. A giver.

I am my fathers son. I am captivated by art and design, by the way things work. I am good with money. Someone who wears good, but comfortable clothing. Working with my hands is one of my key abilities. I am gifted in the realms of math and science, and all around geeky things. It is hard for me to stay in touch. It is hard for me to invest myself and keep myself invested.

I am me. A genderfucking hecka queer kid with a lot of obscure and crazy dreams.

I am the cutest queer you know.

Hi.

Its been a long day.