I'm not just talking about things like "Men hunt, women clean and have babies" here, either.
Growing up in the South, in a very small, backwater community, I was exposed to a lot of what look in retrospect, to be downright stupid social stigmas.
What got me thinking about this was reading a popular story on LGTales about a boy who starts practicing ballet. If I had had that open to me - i.e. if I had been born a girl here, or just plain born anywhere else, I would be in a lot better physical shape today.
Don't worry; I'm not rewriting it! At least, not yet anyway, but when I saw the beautiful cover art Piper's created for it, it did make me want to go back and do some rewriting, to bring it up to par with the new image.
I can distinctly remember a time not so very long ago, when I had myself utterly convinced that I was absolutely incapable of writing short, one-shot stories. I guess, in a way, I was incapable at the time, but not for lack of ability.
In retrospect, I think it was more a combination of facts. One of those was that I was just so laser-focused on writing my novel/serial. In the past, writing has been my therapy. I wrote for the exclusive purpose of writing what I needed to write, what I needed to get out of my system.
I can't begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. Relief? Understanding? I don't know. I like it. It's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I finally know the exact moment when I realized I was a girl, and why I fought it for so long.
WARNING: This is going to be long, and perhaps a little nonsensical/cyclical. I'm pouring it all out into text to get it out of my system, but I promise it has a happy ending.
Depression sucks. I know that's stating an obvious fact, but I ended up giving myself a swift kick in the rear today, so I needed to write about it because that's why I started blogging in the first place, over two years ago. I want to be able to look back at this and laugh someday. Call me conceited, but I also want to stand as another reminder to others that no one suffers alone.
There are several ghost stories surrounding both Gettysburg battlefield and Gettysburg college. Most notably, the girls' sorority house, Stevens Hall, has some bone-chilling stories like The Blue Boy.
The story that grabbed my attention years ago though, and has stuck with me all this time, was about a female ghost that supposedly is completely taken with modern fashion.
While on a fruitless search to figure out what I've done with my digital audio recorder, I started to run across stuff I've been holding onto for absolutely no reason. Most of it was just useless junk not even worth mentioning, but it eventually turned into spring cleaning. And then I noticed my old "I'm just a crossdresser, really!" stash.
I'm going to start by saying that Book Three is by no means finished. I have the first six chapters pretty much 'ready' after two months of hard work. As I move forward, I'm going to be taking greater care in my writing than I have in the past.
Referenced here. Ordinarily I avoid these things because, in the past they've all been the same awful depictions (I'm not kidding when I say one featured a TG prostitute/possible drug addict in Vegas), but this one is different.
I wouldn't be ashamed to be one of the people on this show
So, something's come up in my life as potentially very, VERY positive. I just don't know if it's a step in the right direction or not.
I found out through, of all people, the mother of someone I went to school with and haven't seen in years, that there are special services for the blind for adults now, who can teach me a trade and help me get a job with the US Government. It would apparently all be paid for too.
The caveat is that I'd have to live in Little Rock. ;-)
In case anyone's been wondering what I've been up to lately, I've finally moved from the pre-planning stages to the actual writing on Book Three of Becoming Robin.
I already have the first chapter down, and the first page of chapter two to give myself a jumping-off point when I sit down to start writing again. It's still pretty rough at this stage, but I'd rather be writing and going back to change things later than spending anymore time planning.
Our pipes are trying to freeze, and we're doing all that we can to keep that from happening, but if no one hears from me for a couple of days, don't worry! We have gas heating, so we'll be just fine even if we should lose power :-) Hopefully the worst is over for us, but just in case, you know?
Those of you like me who are being hit by this 30-state strong storm (the figure provided by Headline News' Robin Meade), or worse, please be safe, don't take unnecessary risks in traveling, and stay warm!
Shower Time is Me Time
~or~
I've Been Thinking Again...
I had a nice, hot shower earlier tonight. I’m trying out a new deep conditioner that takes five minutes to set, in addition to my usual washing routine, so I had a lot of time to stand there in the steam and let my mind wander.
It's important that I state, first and foremost, that I am in an exceptionally good mood right now. I feel more creative, and, in a word, "pumped" than I've felt in awhile, so take that into account foremost to set the 'mood' of this blog post.
I know after I finished Book Two of Becoming Robin I sort of went into a conservation phase for awhile. It took me forever to get the final chapter posted due to a combination of RL stuff and the Holiday blues, which put an even further damper on my finishing rewriting Shadowcraft.
In a storyline that could have come right out of TopShelf, Disney's Wizards of Waverly Place now features a transgendered character, in a roundabout way.
For those not familiar with the series, it's about a family of wizards living in the modern world and how they cope with everyday situations.
One of the staple characters, Max, was inadvertently magically transformed into a young girl, "Maxine", on the last episode. The promo "and she might be sticking around awhile" is what amused me enough to finally post about it.
So just a quick update on the college front, since I promised a few of you I'd keep you posted when I knew something.
Essentially, I'm going to wait until the summer to start classes. I know this sounds like a cop-out, or that I'm backing out again, but really, it's not, and I actually owe you guys for it not being so for once :-)
First, to get the site business out of the way, I had hoped to have Robin posted up by now, but a mild case of food poisoning has kept me in bed. You can't keep a good author down, though. I think my muse is finally returning from her vacation, so we'll see what happens :-)
I do want to wish everyone a very happy New Year. I was going to post a blog on my two year anniversary of signing on with TopShelf;I'm only a few days late! It sounds harsh, but glad the holidays are finally over for another year.
I just wanted to post a quick update on what's going on with me, and my lack of presence lately. Things have just kind of snowballed on me with what happened to my dog (he's doing a LOT better, by the way. He's almost completely healed, and getting back to his old self), holiday drama, and about a hundred other things that I'd rather just put out of my mind for now.
On top of that, I've been sick this week, which has really drained me, but I'm sitting here with a big bowl of chicken noodle soup as I type this, and I'm starting to feel a bit better.
This has been an unusual morning for me. What began as another pointless argument with my mother actually turned into something worthwhile for the both of us. I've learned a lot about her today that I didn't realize before, and I've been shamed for it, I'll freely admit.
The important thing is, I learned she isn't clueless, as I once believed by her previous reactions. In the past I've tried to talk to her about my being transgendered, and it's resulted in some pretty upsetting responses. The thing is, she doesn't remember any of it.
I'm shaking right now because something just attacked our dog. He's just a little half-chihuahua lapdog, but we let him out every night to do his business. Usually he stays close to the house, but tonight he ran off after something into the pasture by our house.
Well, I'm taking the first steps to going back to school. I should have done this sooner, but you guys know what a rocky year this has been for me. My mother's not been as big a help as she insisted she would be, so I'm taking the initative (Edit: Not her fault - she's been busy this year too! :-D)
It's almost entirely likely that the next chapter will feature Robin and Linda's first fittings, but I couldn't resist showing off what I have in mind for the two of them as a 'finished product' since the wedding itself will be taking place in the Spring, and Book Two will come to a close with the holidays (in-story).
So um, it turns out my mother took out a small life insurance policy on me several years ago as part of a package that covered the three of us, adding me as a term policy or somesuch. I don't really understand how it all works, but basically, since the cost was increasing she decided to go ahead and cancel it.
Neither of us knew this was the type of policy that you pay into like a savings account. Between this and the award for the Halloween contest, I'll be able to afford a new keyboard and stand (I'm going with the Yamaha PSR E423) with a little bit left over. :-D
I have, for as long as I can remember, had a love affair with the language of music. In seventh grade (That's about age 12-13) my friends used to joke that when I played "A Whole New World" from Aladdin on my trumpet, it was like I went into a trance.
I never learned to read sheet music because of my vision problems. I actually found it MUCH easier to just learn to listen to what the guy next to me was playing and just copy him. I got so good at it that I could pick up a new part of a piece after an hour of practice listening to someone else sight-read it.
It's a piece of advice my drama teacher gave me when I was in High School, and for years I had trouble following it. What she literally meant is that little things aren’t worth being upset over, but a lot of little things can pile up if you let them.
I've been doing a lot of thinking recently though, and between the advice of my no-longer perspective therapist (more on that after the break :-)) and advice I’ve received from friends and concerned community members here, I’ve come to a conclusion.
I received a response from Margaret Cohen, the therapist in LR that I contacted last week. She was very friendly, and gave me the name of another therapist that might be a little closer (I'll have to check after I post this :-))
I'd be lying to say I'm not petrified to take this next step. It took every ounce of strength I could muster just to contact Margaret, but she says Mary is a terrific therapist, and like I said, she came across as very friendly, so I'm going to gather my nerve and write to her.
Why is it that I can say the words in my head, over and over again. I know exactly what I'm feeling inside.
And then when it comes time to just say it, I completely choke to the point of racing behind a proverbial ten foot thick wall? It's almost like those feelings completely disappear for the brief few moments that that window of opportunity is there.
I wonder how many other t-girls go through this much self-doubt, or if it ever truly stops?
Okay, bear with me here because I have a lot going through my mind right now, and I need to try and make sense of it the best way I know how - by writing. I don't know how much of this I'll be able to get into text, or how little, and if you get lost along the way, just raise your hand and an usher will be along shortly.
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
1001 Third St.
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Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
