March 28, 2002

Well, I found out the job I was looking forward to getting was going to the consultant that had been doing the job and then moved up to a full-time position. Which means I'm back to square one so I need to get back and start the whole interview process all over again.

Not only was that a bit of bad news that happened today. So here I was all early to work and ready to begin the day and started to check the schedule for tomorrow and in walks my manager asks me where I was early this morning and it was at that point that I looked and saw that what I thought was early was in fact late, about 4 hours late. A little explanation about this, I normally start work at 1pm and work till 10pm every day except Friday. Well today it was different and I forgot to check. Oh well, just something to add to the whole bad day.

click Testing, testing... yup, daylog is on. Did ya miss me? A hiatus of over a year is broken... v3rgez is back a little older (draft-bait baby), a little wiser (chosen as best writer in the grade, but return and am immediately humbled... more on that later), and still with the same damn username... ah well.

Yeah, getting back in the groove is hard... worked a bit on the List of Saints project, only to find sludgeeel has followed up splendidly with the Russian Orthodox Saints. Maybe one day this heralds Unity amongst us again... we can only pray and work.

And then, it hit me all the sudden... First as a Kind Message from HalsPal, geez, some people here are Friendly. It meant a lot, even though he railed me for a picky grammar mistake (ok, stupid grammar mistake, but it was all part of the game.

I start reading his stuff... Halspal lives the life I always dreamed up, but was too much of an uncoordinated clutz to even begin to pursue. And damn, he can write.

Finally, I read biotoast's Beyond Belief: Fact and Fiction in the Life of Jesus, the best factual node I've seen in quite a long time... and it answered some long-standing questions that have perplexed me.

It's good to be back. click

P.S.: Already, I believe you have caused me to fail 3 tests, 2 quizzes, and turn in a paper late. I love you.

A Week In The Life Of An Average Transsexual

I can't vouch for how average or unaverage I am, however, I hope to dispel any "weirdo" stereotypes about the regular activities of transsexuals, like hanging out in women's public restrooms, walking the street for money, or doing the Time Warp.

Sunday.
I wake up late and get dressed. I feed the cat and myself. I spend most of the day plugging away at E2, and working out my appointments for the week. At 9:00pm I head into work, which is where I'll stay until 6:00am. I arrive back home at about 6:10am and have dinner and an E2 fix. Before bed, I take 1mg of estrogen, 10mg of progesterone, 40mg of Paxil and 60mg of propanolol.

Monday.
I stay up late after work and drive over to the hospital at 9:30am, where I endure my monthly endocrinological blood test. The following Monday will bring my appointment with my regular endocrinologist, and we'll look over the test results and adjust my hormone dosage if necessary. Afterwards, I'll drive home, retrieve my postal mail from its metal box, take my hormones and antianxiety drugs, and then sleep, waking at about 8:30pm so I can be at work by 9:00pm.

Tuesday.
I work until 6:00am, then come home and crash, but not before the pills ritual. It was a busy night at work and I'm more tired than usual. Nevertheless, I rise at 3:30pm for my 4:00pm psychological therapy session, at which I talk about myself for 50 minutes and then depart. I can't get back to sleep so I leaf through E2 until I start getting ready for work at 8:30pm. I leave for work, which is a ghost town tonight, so I spend most of the night with E2. Once a month I attend a transsexual support group meeting on the first Tuesday of each month, which means more waking up early before work.

Wednesday.
I come home from work and take my pills. I go online and E2 absorbs me, and I lose track of the time. I go to bed at noon, and wake in time for work. Next Wednesday I have a consultation with a plastic surgeon, to see about chrondolaryngoplasty and rhinoplasty. Work comes and goes, and I sleep immediately upon getting home, this time with the aid of some melatonin added to my daily pill routine.

Thursday.
I stay up after work for my laser hair removal appointment at 9:30am. A couple of hours prior to the appointment I slather my face and chest with painkiller cream to minimize the sting of the laser penetrating my hair follicles. Prior to leaving I take a Soma so I don't tense up during the laser session and end up getting zapped in the ear or something. Afterwards, I come home, wash my face and hit E2 for a few hours until I get tired enough to sleep. I inadvertedly sleep in tonight and end up getting into work a half an hour late, which is no big deal because by the time I get there, everyone has left for the night. After work, I need to prepare for a long Friday night so I take some NyQuil® with my hormones and antianxiety drugs and sleep uninterrupted all day long.

Friday.
Friday night begins when my friend Cris calls me, asking if I'm up for a night of drinking beer and hopping gay bars. I'm not (nor was I at any time) a gay male, but I go with Cris anyway because he's a pre-op, pre-testosterone female-to-male transsexual and likes playing with the heads of the gay boys at the Bourbon Pub and the Oz, which is admittedly fun to watch. We head back to my place at around 3:30am, and watch some movies. We both pass out around 5:00am, but not before my pill-consuming break.

Saturday.
At around 10:00am, Cris wakes me to say good morning, and that he's heading home via the St. Charles Avenue streetcar. I nod and gurgle an acknowledgement, then fall back to sleep. I wake up sometime later with a really strong urge for E2, which is where I spend the rest of the day.

Most of the rest of my week is spent showering, driving to and from work, eating lunch, etc. Not really noteworthy.

Hm. You know, maybe I should've titled this entry "Pills & Everything2."

For once, I'm in a really good mood today, despite the slight head cold that's been blocking my right ear all week.

I have several reasons; first, Ireland beat Denmark 3-0 last night in an international friendly. Ian Harte, Robbie Keane and Clinton Morrison all scored. It was a great match, and it was fantastic to see Ireland play so well with Roy Keane (of Manchester United), our star player, injured. I haven't seen an Irish team play so positively in ages, which bodes well for this summer's World Cup in Japan and Korea. Chelsea and Denmark's Jesper Gronkær didn't play well, but the Danish formation didn't really suit his style, so I'm not too worried about that.

Also, yesterday there was a company announcement that we have Good Friday (i.e. tomorrow) off! Good Friday is a bank holiday in Ireland; AFAIK, banks and the civil service have the day off, but for all others, it depends on the company. So this means I get a four-day weekend. Yay!

Finally, I got some good work done yesterday. Well, whether or not it's good is very objective, but I was happy with it. I got to write some cool Java code (yes, I am a geek...), and I also finished off the three articles I was planning to write (on Evan Dando, The Breeders and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers & New Order) for The Slate, a semi-student-run Dublin magazine. Today I'm hoping to find out whether or not they liked 'em... If so, I'll be a music critic! I'd earn only about €200 a month from it, plus expenses and perhaps a couple of freebies, which should keep me nicely in big trousers and spiky earrings.

The Inbox:

How can you create art when you cut all other experiences out of your life? Art is made through both your own imagination and your life experiences. Combining the two creates the most pure form of art as it is the true representation of both yourself and the world as you see it. If you're not experiencing life, how can you represent it or draw inspiration from it?

---

The Outbox:

I meant to reply to this, but I wanted to play video games instead at that previous moment in time. Go figure.

I agree, in that an aspect of trying to be a creative professional involves the relationships and experiences I take part in. But it's not a very practical decision to make that the most significant aspect of bettering my artwork or animation.

Nothing I do socially or recreationally is significant. Don't get me wrong, I like my friends and I"m grateful I have friends who put up with me. But really, I need to be social so that I don't go crazy. I don't need to do social things to be a better artist. Maybe this would be different if I was a graphic designer or designing MTV IDs or something. The observation of people and current trends and the club circuit is I suppose, important with that kind of design.

What I need to do now though, and one of the main reasons I'm going back to school out of state, is to work on the practical and technical issues involved with my craft quietly, and without distraction.

I mean, it's important to know how to talk to people, and understand myself on whatever intimate, emotional level people should know themselves. It's important to always know what your heart is saying to you.

But this specific perspective isn't something to like, make into its own animal. It doesn"t make sense to me separate my work from my life experiences. My life experiences are the things I create.

Posting that quote by Shaw in my last entry made me come off as an angsty, cruel sonofabitch. I didn"t mean for it to be interpreted like that. But here's the thing. Although I never purposefully try to hurt people by choosing my artwork over any/all relations I have with the world outside my drafting table and digital studio, it still happens. What I think Shaw was trying to say is that there isn't really anything romantic about being an artist. There's nothing cool about it, and people who do this kind of stuff shouldn't be praised simply because they make it their life's work to better their craft.

I think Shaw was saying that artists are flawed. Artists are single-minded individuals who make no apology for the way they are. Likewise, they expect no praise for the way they lead their life.

Following the Academy Awards show last Sunday night which ran over four hours, the chorus of media critics blasting entertainment award programs has grown more shrill and persistent. These complaint general take one of the following forms--- “There are too many awards shows”; ‘The programs are too long and boring”; “The concept of a televised media award event is simply an self indulgent, self aggrandizing exercise on the part of overpaid narcissistic stars”. The average viewer, who forced by their spouse or significant other to endure both the pre show interviews with strangely dressed actress and the inarticulate acceptances speeches, in all likelihood found him or herself in agreement with the bashers. After the numbing effects of the award show were counteracted by liberal doses of alcohol and high caloric snacks, I concluded that programs, such as I witnessed last Sunday night, play a vital role in modern society on many different levels. Rather then take cheap shots at media award programs, I urge the thoughtful viewer to consider the positive aspects of programs such as the Academy Awards. For example:

1. The visuals symbols on the award shows reinforce a strong work ethic. The appearance of the numerous overweight, balding middle aged men in the company of much younger and gorgeous women clearly presents a message to younger men and boys that if you work hard and rise to a position of power and influence, that no matter how old and unattractive, you can still have a great looking wife/girl-friend.

2. Support and non-verbal encouragement for a vital part of the American economy---the business of plastic surgery. Even to a casual and inattentive viewer it was obvious that the bodies of most if not all of the actresses and other female personalities were not created solely by nature. As the baby boomer population ages and the effects of both gravity and the 1960’s become noticeable, the images presented by the silicone-enhanced starlets give us hope and a reason to spent our hard earned (or inherited) dollars at the plastic surgeons. Such an inflow into the pockets of the medical community can only have a positive effect on the economy.

3. Annihilation of belief that hypocrisy and whining are undesirable character flaws. Having come of age in a more repressive and moralistic time, I was taught ones words should be consistent with one deeds and that no one likes or respects a complainer. I of course did not always follow that path but when those twin concepts were violated, I just knew that I was acting inappropriately. Apparently my early beliefs were if not wrong are at least now not operative. After the fourth actor/actress, who in all likelihood earns in three days more that then average family does in one year, talked about suffering and repression from not getting the right or enough acting parts, I decided that maybe modern society needs to afford victim status before it is politically correct to honor or respect someone. And to think I attempted to keep most of my complaints to myself for all these years. If only I had whined more, maybe I also could have been considered a victim and think how far I could have then gone in life.

4 A Modern day example of an ancient religious teaching—the concept of purgatory. A near endless wait to enter heaven during which one’s sins were purged is a difficult concept for many young children to grasp without example. A replay of several of the acceptance speeches by award winners who obviously had to drop out of school in eight grades to hone their craft, as actors should serve as a fine example of endless boredom. For the non-Catholics among us, these same acceptances could also be used to demonstrate the modern day physic principle that all time is not relative. How else could a 45 second acceptance speech thanking one mother, agent and dog groomer actually last 20 minutes?

While there were many other life lesson to be explored in the Academy Award setting, my concern for current laws and court decisions on libel prevent me from outlining in writing many of the other politically incorrect or personal comments which I spontaneously uttered while watching the program.

found out today that my ex-girlfiend is getting married.

mostly this is a pretty non-event for you. it's been 3 years since then and you haven't even spoken to her in over 6 months. and even then it was only the most cursory of pleasantries. you should congratulate her and be on with your own life.

but something inside you is unsettled, it keeps nagging.

this is wrong, it wasn't supposed to be this way.

he was supposed to be a rebound. it was supposed to end badly. you were supposed to get hurt . so i could laugh at you. because i was the one who had the good job and the kick-ass girlfriend and now look at you, broken hearted an alone. and i'd say you deserved it all for stringing me along for a year with all that will we/won't we get back together bullshit. and oh would i laugh.

but now you're the one who finished your degree, got a job and now...married. and i'm the one working nights in a gas station, spreading myself thin. waiting on the hiv test results before i can even sell plasma for extra cash.

It Wasn't Supposed To Be This Way

but why? am i after some type of revenge? really? am i out for vengence against someone i don't even know anymore?

when i look at the thoughts that go through my head...cody, you really are a bad person sometimes.

and never forget this because it is of the utmost importance that you realize it: you strung yourself along, cody.

I miss my mom.

A couple weeks ago she was in London attending a conference and she was lucky enough to be able to come over to Dublin for a couple of days to visit, just in time for St. Patrick's Day.

I was happy that she was going to come over, seeing that there was no way my Dad was going to, and I never see her. So, anytime spent with mom is special.

It's weird for me though because the way I feel about her is all fucked up.

I love her to death because she is so cool. She's supportive, open-minded, and is just a very loving person. But at the same time she is a space-cadet. Completely "out there," floating amongst the stars. This can be real funny sometimes, and cute, 'cause she can be like a little kid. But although she has given me a lot of support and love over the years, I still feel that she wasn't really there when I needed her to be there.

So there is an enormous amount of emotions that consume me when it comes to thinking about my mom.

Sometimes I feel angry. Angry that she wasn't around when I was growing up. Angry that she moved to Maine, leaving me feeling deserted, feeling forced into something I didn't want to do. ^{I had to move in with my father.}And even now, as I begin to slowly drift away from my family life into my own, I still feel that there is something missing, something that isn't right.

And I miss her.

And I feel guilty that I didn't get more days off from work while she was here. I feel guilty because I didn't go up and see her in Maine this past summer, when I could have, easily. And I feel guilty that I only spent three days with her at Christmas time.

So yeah, I am upset at myself, and as much as I feel that I shouldn't be, because, it's not like she goes insanely out of her way to see me, she is still my mother, and I still love her, and it was wrong of me to work as much as I did while she was here.

I was thinking about all of this last night, got a little upset, and as usual, it got me thinking about my life.

I feel like I have never had a "normal" anything. And I know that the whole notion of "normal" is bullshit, but there's good old society, forcing its stereotypes on me and influencing my desires and needs.

My parents got divorced when I was three, I was torn between them as a child, and neither of them were around all that much. My two older sisters spent most of their time together and left me out of everything. So I felt rejected from day one. Not only did I grow to realize that society and a good majority of the people in it didn't want anything to do with me, but it felt like my family didn't either. So I was in a world of shit, never mind all of the other crap that I went through growing up.

And all of this stays with me, remains inside me, waiting to be settled, to be dealt with, bubbling up inside, scraping to get out of the dark, cavernous pit that some might refer to as my soul. And it hurts sometimes. And I wonder if I will ever feel satisfied with myself and with my life.

And even though a part of me knows that it shouldn't matter, I wonder if I will ever feel "normal," ever.

Something tells me that I am not going to get an answer.

Something tells me that I am going to struggle with all of this for the rest of my life.

And I accept this I suppose. I have no choice in the matter really. I just wish I didn't have to feel this way all the time, and that I wasn't so influenced by all of the crap that is around me and has been fed to me.

But actually, no, forget all of that. Today, I just miss my mom. I miss the part of her that was never there too, but I miss her. And I long for the time when I will see her again for I know it will be many moons till then.

Even though I know you will never read this mom, I love you and I miss you.

11:20 pm: I go to bed early for once. I say "bed" but it's just couch cushions on the lounge floor, and sleeping bag. I need a good light's rest, and it's not easy on this bedding.

1:30 am: flatmate stumbles in, drunk, acompanied by his even drunker boss. Within half an hour the boss has been persuaded to pass out on the couch. I can sleep again.

around 2:30 am: Move bedding into passageway to escape the deafening snoring from his fat carcass. I can still hear it through the closed door, but it's better. I can sleep again.

6 am: daylight: Flatmate and boss are rousing and hurrying to catch a train to Brighton, hung over and trying to work out what they did last night. They leave and I can sleep again.

9 am: Other flatmates leave. I can sleep again, alone in the flat now.

10 am: I decide that further sleep is not going to happen and I get up. I am half-awake, disassociated. I need my own place. Real soon.

Later in the day I am still waiting for a call, for a new position to be posted, or for agents to get back to me. I have no excuse to bug them right now. Listening to the twin peaks soundtrack. At frankie's urging, I bug some of them, with good feedback.

Later I have more than an hour inb hand, so I play tourist, head over to Embankment tube station, walk to Trafalgar square, stare up at Nelson on his column, then visit the National Gallery. Monet, Manet and Renoir bring a smile to my face. An unexpected bonus is some Turner pieces - Fantastical landscapes hidden in the clouds, and the rising sun's rays like a great ribbed vault. Yes, I am lucky to be here.

Another day in paradise. I know noding while consuming alcohol is a bad idea, but who cares.

I am on the other side of the timeline, but I still didn't get my write-up in before a dozen other folks.

I had to go to a class on chemical warfare. I learned how I will probably die, despite the money spent on protecting me by Uncle Sam.

After that, I went and cleaned up 5 award nominations for ungrateful youngsters who can only think of themselves. Of course, no one will ever nominate me for an award. I am just doing my job after all. Another 12 hour day. Oh well, I am on duty 24/7. I should be happy I get to go home at all.

I know, I am a big whiner. Oh well, sometimes it helps relieve a little stress.

See you tomorrow, same bat time, same bat channel.

"Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry..."

This is what it's like to lose yourself in another person.
Brian and I have been dating since sometime in February. We don't know when it started and we laughingly lament the fact that we are not "anniversary people", and recall the time it happened with stupor and surprise. We've met each others families but this is so not a big deal, not when they're such a big part of both of our lives and an unavoidable errand. He teaches school and I help with some of the projects, I am amazed with some of the things these ten-year-olds come up with. He likes my cat and we play cards together. We see movies and we plan to start writing music.

This is what it's like when God speaks to you.
We concentrate on bringing each other up; on making sure that our health is always a priority and that we do not become dependant on each other. (He's OCD and I'm depressive. Quite a match, we joke.) I drag him to the zoo and he talks about cars to me. We go to malls to people watch and it seems we are slowly falling in love--more like Oh, dear, I think I'm in love with you--and the rest of it, everything, is basking in the glowing aftermath. I pray about it, conscious of what the last "love" felt like when it ended, conscious of brokenheartpain, and wary of these feelings that seem sublime to what it's been like in the past. God sends me total confirmation, encouragement, comfort, and an answer to my wonderings in Brian. I realize the shocking reality of this but try not to think about it, and the "What if this is it!"'s start, but I supress them best I can.

This is what it's like to see into the future of your heart.
Brian tells me that he could happily be in love with me, not want to meet another girl for the rest of his life. We half-seriously talk about how compatible/incompatible we would be if we were married, conflicts on childrens names and stylistic issues for the wedding itself. We are both fairly if not completely eccentric, and these conversations mirror how well our personalities compliment each other. He comforts me and stays when I need him to, and wants me around as well. I help to loosen him up and ground him, while also lifting him up and giving him assurance. I start to wonder-but-not-let-myself-wonder. My parents love him (a miracle!), my cat loves him, he's good for me and it seems I am good for him. He's moving to Austin in two months and yes I worry about this but for some reason I push it behind other thoughts. We are both letter writers but mostly I just push it back and try not to think. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

This is what it's like to be somewhere you've never been before, feel something you've never felt before, be lifted up on a cloud of something and for me this is heaven.
"Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry..." And all I can think is OHMYGOD is this real. We're laying there on my bed and sometimes talking, sometimes sleeping, and Brian starts to tell me that he would like to marry me, is content with knowing that and feels no need to rush it. He goes on but something in my brain is picking up signals from someplace that must be heaven. Music starts pouring into my head and I KNOW. I've always thought you would know when it was the right one and I KNOW, I'm being told by God. Brian and I pray together and we're both crying, he starts talking about moving and how he's going to get me a promise ring. That settles it and marks the difference between sure and possibility. I am lightly sobbing as I envision aisles and white dresses and my sisters' weddings and my mother. I KNOW, I'm afraid to tell him but suddenly all the fear I've had for the future, always alone and lost and too weird for the world, all the fear is gone and I am comforted. I am sobbing gently and I press my face into his and my cheeks are hot and wet with tears but he understands somehow, without me saying anything at all. I burst and tell him everything, about the epiphany I've just had/am having, he starts to cry too and now We Know, and we're not afraid. It will be a long time, years, but we talk about it and know this is right and what we want. I cry for hours still but he understands, I am stricken with beauty and joy, and somewhere in there I fall asleep, happy.

I was going to start fasting today. I went to an all-you-can-eat sushi place earlier in the month, and ever since then my usually well-tempered stomach has been pushing me to eat for pleasure's sake, rather than necessity's sake, and I have decided it's high time I re-established control over myself.

But I didn't start fasting, because as soon as I got to campus, I got an email from an old high school chum who said he and some others were in town for Spring Break, and that we should all meet at such-and-such time to grab a bite and catch up. So that happened, and it was good to realize that my peers are living with the same kinds of problems as I am. And my wallet is out of money in addition to all the food preparation devices (skillet, pots, pans, cereal bowls, casserole dishes) in my house being dirty, so odds are pretty good I'll start fasting tomorrow.

I was supposed to call her tonight, but then again, I was supposed to talk to her after class on Wednesday, and I was especially supposed to talk to her after class on Monday (it's the easiest opening in the world: So, how was your weekend?). But so far I haven't, and if I stay in this lab much longer, chances are I'll tell myself it's too late, she's too busy doing other stuff to want to talk to me. I'm always looking for excuses to avoid confronation.

I've been neglecting her? No, I'm just scared of more build-up before the (inevitable?) dam burst, when she lets it slip somehow that I'm wasting both of our time, pursuing someone who's nothing like me. I'm playing the odds under the assumption that she doesn't like me. We barely smile at each other in class, because I'm scared to keep looking at her while she's not reciprocating (what if she thinks I'm staring, or if some other alto thinks I'm looking at her and gets the wrong idea?), and she is growing weary giving me signals and not having me respond to them. Most of what I see on her is the disappointed look that may just be her being bored by the class, but I just don't know. It fills me with dread, the thought that I might now be responsible for someone else's emotions. Whenever we do something together, I think I'm boring her. She plays sports and hangs out with guys that (probably) never shut up. Maybe I'm wrong and she appreciates the change, having someone that listens, having some moments of silence. Maybe some synthesis of these seemingly exclusive possibilites is true. I kept asking her out, maybe she let down her guard because she thought I really liked her. So many things I don't know for lack of experience. All I know is that it's impossibly hard to make myself act on my brief moments of optimism.

I also re-read a short introductory essay on Buddhism that Jeeves sent me yesterday. Seems like the kind of stuff that may help me calm down my brain, shut it the fuck up sometimes. Promotes clarity of vision, not having unrealistic expectations of the world (may help situation with aforementioned girl considerably if I take it seriously). If nothing else, was a useful reminder that reading can be beneficial on multiple levels. Reading is up 200+% in the past week, owing mainly to all the Unix books I've been perusing.

Full moon tonight.

I'm now the root account for a set of linux boxes that a new professor at my university recently bought for his future research. Consequence: I am going to be on the internet much more than I have been for the past 10 months or so (when I last had access to the net in my place of residence). Welcome back.