Verily and Forsooth it hath been a few weeks since last I did post. I've finished up my work for the semester, and now I turn my thoughts to summer and what I must get done. Firstly I must yea verily take the car to my parents for (hopefully minor) brake surgery. Then I will be getting jobs with Will, painting houses. Lo and behold, this will cause me to be possessed of some money, I hope. With this money I will begin buying books for my thesis and for the graphic novel project I will soon be working on (no, Zan, I haven't forgotten). I must study Latin and German and French, look into getting a correspondence course in some ancient language (perhaps Egyptian; perhaps Akkadian or similar), and take my GRE at some point relatively soon. I must clean my room, begin working out, and sort out the meaning behind last night's whiny angst session.

Yes, whiny angst session. Looking back at the four pages of text I filled up in my journal makes me laugh a little. If you have allergies to angst then please do not read the following quotes:

"I've never been this fixated on my body before. What is it? Did that disaster with J make me think I was a failure as woman? Was I exposed to the toxic effects of gay slash fiction at a too-tender age? What in the nine hells is wrong with me?"

"I love myself. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggonnit, people like me. My interior is at one with my exterior. My spirit is at one with this bullshit I'm spouting. Et cetera, et cetera, and so forth."

All this was just triggered by the realization that if I do decide to transition, nobody can guarantee I'll look like what I want to look like, during or after. Wah. I might be an ugly boy. So what? I can't live if I'm not pretty? If it would fix the attendant psychological problems, couldn't I live with a pot-belly and a hairy back?

Tucker's Resplendent Tree pulled me out of it. Go visit this site. There's a lot of good stuff there, stuff that makes a lot of sense.