Fix Your Fucking Unhappiness

First remember to take your fucking antidepressants on the daily. They keep your head from feeling like a wave and your toes from tingling. Oh, and something about the chemicals in your brain and all that.

I got cut at work. Last week doing my job like I always do, and a coffee mug poking out of a black garbage bag sliced me open. Didn’t see it. But then I saw all the blood pouring out of my pinky.

I should’ve gone to get stitches that night. Should’ve left work right away and gone to the emerg. But it was the first real time I’ve been hurt that bad at work so I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know I had rights. Apparently.

Two stitches the next morning. Well that’ll show ’em. The supervisor who didn’t think I was worth sending home. Who didn’t think I was worth a WCB case.

Just my luck, stitches got infected. I always get stitches infected. So after the real emerg visit that took a short three hours, my finger is a gross mess and I wish I’d just fucking seen that broken mug handle.

But really I wish that who ever broke it in the first place and decided it was an okay idea to leave it in the bag had there skin broken. Had their perfect tissue shred by china and their precious blood drip to the floor. I wish they had to have a needle jammed into their tiniest finger with numbing liquid so they could be thread back together. I wish that person was going through the small hell I am right now feeling like a burden at work and feeling like an ugly sore.

So I’m not happy about work. Not happy that they felt so strongly that I wasn’t important enough.

But only I can fix that. By leaving.

Sigh.

If only it were that easy.

I’ve been thinking lately why I didn’t become a tradesperson. I lived in Alberta. I had the perfect opportunity. Or why I didn’t go to college straight after high school. I’ve been hating that all I am is a writer. But that’s the self-loathing, self-deprecating writer to the core. I like other things, but I may not be good enough at them to make them a career.

I’ve applied to other places. Been thinking how I get a government job like my mom. Lately I’ve been wanting to work outside for the city – you know, cutting grass and planting shit. Get ripped.

I’m unhappy and frustrated. Everything else in my life is going well for a change. My writing has caught the attention I need to get going in this city. And I’ve still got three amazing best friends who listen to me complain about my life – and listen to me talk and text about the incredible human I’m into.

I’m a cynical person, but I’m forever hopelessly fucking optimistic. I’ll fix this fucking unhappiness. I’ll start right fucking after this post.

Thanks

Today is Canadian Thanksgiving. I hadn’t planned on writing a post, but I was inspired last night before falling asleep.

My post the other night about my ex was resolved yesterday afternoon after we texted and I got her to open up to me and be honest. After hearing her feelings for me, and expressing my own for her, we’re now on the same page. And we both agree that in the long run, we’d rather have each other as friends.

I’m so thankful that our friendship isn’t over and we’ll be able to move past this. In the long run our relationship will be even stronger, and we’ll mean more to each other.

I’m thankful for living in a country which validates my basic human rights. The right to vote on October 19, the right to marry someone of my same sex and or gender, the right to employment without wrongful discrimination. I love my country.

Beyond that, I’m thankful to be living in the city of my dreams. Here I got an education that will take me further into my career. I’m thankful for the teachers who pushed me to my potential and encourage me to take it farther each time I write. I can’t wait to see what I can do with writing in Vancouver.

I’m thankful to have the greatest roommate ever. I didn’t expect to find someone who understands, respects, and loves me when I’m crazy. We share a love of TV, being cynical idiots together, and running to the store for ice cream. She single handedly saved my life and called for paramedics when a plate broke and sliced open my hand and left me bleeding out on the floor (even though she was the one who cracked the plate in the first place).

I’m thankful for my family’s love and support. Not only for the gender stuff, but for knowing that my family truly believes in my ability to write and knows I’ll do something great with it.

I met brilliant people in school, and I continue to meet so many people who amaze and surprise me. I’m thankful for new friends I’ve made here, and old friends back home. Best friends I text on the constant, new relationships with cousins, and friends I haven’t seen in a while.

I’m thankful for the life I have and for being given a new day to breathe and live.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, Everyone!

This is Not the Worst Fucking Thing That Has Ever Happened.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened because you brought your ex to a party and shit happened and things were said about them having sex with other people and you felt weird and wanted to hide in your turtle shell.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened because she followed you to the bathroom and wanted to know what was wrong, but it’s obvious what is fucking wrong because I’m not fucking over her yet and I don’t care to hear about her sexcapades, or want to indulge her in any way.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened because she said you don’t date people you’ve broken up with, and you told her it was her who said it felt platonic. I never used platonic. Only the first week did it feel platonic because you weren’t sure how you felt about her.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened because it felt like she wasn’t completely honest with the break up, and when you asked why she broke up with you, she turned and walked away back to the party. Where it was weird and awkward for three minutes until you both left separately.

I just need to know what happened two and a half months ago. I just need her to be honest with me about how she feels about me so I know how to move on. Cause now I’m intoxicated and missing her and hating her and texting Mike back home in Edmonton to feel better.

This is not the worst fucking thing that has ever happened.

But it feels like it.

But I’ve Never Been Happier

My roommate and I just paid our internet bill after getting cut off this morning for not paying it in two months. Half the bill, not even the whole damn thing.

I haven’t paid my own phone bill in two months and going on hope that they don’t cut me off. We’re living off Kraft Dinner and Mr. Noodles and I’ve run out of quarters to do laundry. I have less than a thousand dollars to my name. Tonight is my first shift at the grocery store, and I’m not gonna be able to get full time hours.

Student loan bills are gonna start coming in soon. I somehow have rent covered for October, but I’ll be broke after that. Saving up for top surgery is weighing on my mind and seems unlikely I’ll be able to have that 8K stashed by Christmas 2016.

I’ve never been so broke and so on my own ever in my life. At twenty-five and a half years old I’m finally an adult deciding between going out dancing or eating, which I choose dancing because I want the story to write about.

So I’m a cliché broke post-student screenwriter, except I’m not hanging out in Starbucks cause I couldn’t afford Starbucks. I don’t know when my first paycheque will be and if I’ll be able to pay all my bills and my testosterone when it comes. I’m working the graveyard shift stocking shelves, and I might have an internship two days a week during the day, if I’m lucky.

Despite all this, I’ve never been happier. I’ve never felt more pride in myself to be living at the bottom. I’m hungry for growth, and I’m determined to find out what I’m made of. I’ve never been prouder to not go running to my parents for money when I need it. I don’t need it. I have everything I need and I’ll make due.

This is where it all starts.

I’m Just Adjusting

As soon as I texted that to her just now, I knew it has to get better. I hope it gets better. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure we can be friends.

I can’t say it out loud. I can barely think about it. No, I can’t think about it cause then I’ll become depressed and my life is finally picking up to let myself fall backwards.

But it’s stupid. I should give myself a break. I’m allowed to still have feelings for her after not even two months have passed since we broke up. When I like people, I really like them. I want to know everything about them, and I love their faults and the things that they hate about themselves. I didn’t fall in love with her, but I could’ve, if it had lasted longer.

She doesn’t like me anymore, and I don’t want to be the only one who still has feelings. That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what I hate the most. No one wants to be the lingerer. No one wants to be the one who still has feelings while they’re over you and interested in other people. I don’t want her pity because I still feel something for her. I want to be over her, but it’s an adjustment.

Tonight we texted about people we’re talking to on OKCupid. I have to keep up with her now. I have to talk about people first before she does so she knows I’m okay. So she thinks I’m okay.

I’m okay. I have to put on my big boy smile so people think I’m doing fine when I’m not, but I’m okay.

I’m Gonna Stop

I’m gonna stop hurting over how you hurt me.

Over how I hurt myself knowing you would hurt me.

I’m gonna stop beating myself up over feeling guilty.

Over feeling guilty for cutting you out.

I’m gonna stop putting you on a pedestal.

On a pedestal slowly crumbling down.

As the realization of how you treated me comes rushing in.

All the truths that kill me.

All the dishonesty I now see.

I’m gonna stop thinking you were anything close to perfect.

Perfect is a word I’ll never use again.

I’m gonna stop blaming myself for everything.

I am not a victim.

But I am not a monster.

I’m gonna start moving on.

Adulthood?

I’ve had a few people from WordPress express interest in my TV pilot, and one wrote an awesome review for me and helped me out so I wanted to share this again with the first act from the script.

I submitted the first episode of my queer TV show to Amazon Studios for consideration to be made into an actual series.

My goal in screenwriting in both TV and film is to create a platform for myself wherein I can tell the stories of our queer community.

If you read the rest of my script in the link below, please leave a rating! A review would also be great – it would really be helping me out!

Thank you!

Read the rest here! https://studios.amazon.com/projects/86461

We Can Be Friends

I’ve made the mistake time and time again of acting so hastily and irrationally because it’s difficult to set apart my brain from my heart.

But it’s rare that I find people that I truly connect with. We felt comfortable with each other from the first couple minutes in the park by her house. All the dogs came by to visit us and we chilled with them while their owners urged them to move. In that moment, we got to see a sweet side of each other.

I never expected anything from her. I didn’t expect to spend forever with her. But I liked being around her. She accepts my cynicism and she laughs at my mannerisms.

At some point we both knew we weren’t connecting romantically, but we didn’t want to say anything. She thought I wouldn’t want to be friends with an ex because apparently I have a history of that or something…

But a month and a half away from each other and the little bit of texting we had in that time, was enough to get me used to the idea of being her friend. It was enough time to be away to want to grab coffee today. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with someone who sees me for what I am and still likes me?

I told her before, if I don’t get over this not being friends with ex’s thing, I’ll never grow as a person.

And I want to grow as a person.

I’m learning to separate my head from my heart and learning that one status of a relationship might not work, but there’s a chance that another one will. This is about how much I care for a person for who they really are and if I’d actually be okay with losing them forever. And I wouldn’t be okay with that.

I’m glad she’s in my life. It’s getting less strange and more normal. Someday it’ll simply be normal.

I Want to be That Person

Maybe it’s that I’m not supposed to be in a committed relationship with anybody right now, but it seems that all the girls and trans guys on all the dating sites only want to date casually or be in an open-relationship.

I grew up in a conservative Christian home. I believed you were supposed to find that one person who you would be with for the rest of your life and you had to wait until marriage to have sex and you weren’t supposed to ever look at any other human ever after that.

But then I finally grew up and took back my life and now I decide things for myself.

I still want to be in a relationship. But I also want to date lots of people and experience different things which is where I start thinking about polyamory and open relationships. I don’t know if I could do it. I don’t know the rules. I think maybe if I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and knew what would and wouldn’t happen in that relationship, I’d be better equipped.

I don’t expect to get everything I need out of a polyamorous relationship, but it also might be good for me to be in a relationship that I know is not going to last forever.

I think of it like friends. When I went with my roommate to her hometown over Spring Break and met her friends, I found that she has different friends for different things. She has a friend that she goes to the movies with, and she has work friends at the coffee shop, and she has a friend who shares her love of fanfiction with her, and above all that, she has her best friend. None of them are valued any less and she loves them all.

If everyone knows they’re valued and important to each other, I wonder if there’s a chance that I could do it. I want to be that person. Not forever, but until I find that forever person.

Am I over thinking this? Is it not just dating multiple people at one time? That feels normal to me, but tacking on other words makes it confusing.

What are other people’s thoughts on polyamory and open relationships?

Comfortable to be Uncomfortable

This is a follow up to my post “Nothing”.

I’ve been feeling detachment lately. At the same time, I feel like a stranger to my body, but like I’ve never been more comfortable to be uncomfortable.

Like how I had to learn to emotionally remove myself from my anatomy during sex so I didn’t panic. I did that until I felt comfortable with that part of my body. I detached the notion that I had to have biological matter to feel like a man. Like a male. Like a boy.

The past seven months living in a body with synthetic testosterone has been interesting. I went from thinking I had to do certain things because every other trans guy is doing them, to being free to do whatever the hell I want. In general , trans guys anticipate the first couple hairs on their face. They put up with the awkward voice cracks and never being able to be taken seriously when arguing – cause that’s just adorable. Fitness becomes a key point in their lives and they document the physical change in photos.

And they think about bottom surgery. Phalloplasty. The one people think of when they hear of someone being trans.

In the first couple weeks when I came out to my parents, my mom was scared. She was terrified she was losing her little girl. She couldn’t wrap her mind around me being wanting to be seen as a man. Mother’s can be harsh, but sometimes that simply comes out of fear.

I remember we were sitting on the edge of their bed and we were discussing my decisions to go to group meetings to meet other people like me. She asked in a tone only mothers have – I wasn’t going to have sex reassignment surgery, was I?

There had already been too much happening in those couple of weeks. I kinda laughed it off my shoulders and told her no. What I wanted to say was that it would be my decision if I did or did not. At that point didn’t know if I was going to have that surgery. I had only peeled one part of the orange. I still had time to decide.

I’ve done a little research, but I always kinda strayed away from that topic. It wasn’t until last weekend talking with other trans guys that I really knew that not only do I not want that surgery, or desire it at all, but I also don’t associate whatsoever with wanting a packer or an STP (stand-to-pee), or needing anything phallic to be intimate with someone. And the whole bathroom issue is another conversation altogether.

So knowing this fact about myself, I seriously wondered if I had made a mistake. What if I’d taken testosterone for this long and I didn’t actually want it. What did I want?

Well I still cringe at being seen as a woman. But I still like my effeminate characteristics. I’m not terribly excited about shaving a couple times a week now, but it’s fine with me. Once my voice is finished changing, I’m sure I’ll be cool with it. Especially over the phone, oh my gosh. And fitness? Well that’s something I’m working on.

Point is, there’s no rule book. Every person ever experiences their own transition in their own way. Right now I feel more agender and non-binary. And it’s still evolving. I’m sure I’ll feel different at a later point. But for now, I’m going to tell my doctor that I want to stay at 60ml of testosterone a week. It’s been my experience that every trans guy anticipates getting to 100ml, and that was me too, but I feel good where I am at this point in my life so I’m going to listen to my body.

It feels kinda uncomfortable that I could not know this about myself until now. A little uncomfortable in not knowing what I’m doing. But I don’t think I’m supposed to. And that’s kinda comforting.