Reasons that I am lucky to be me
1. I am very intelligent. - I might have absolutely zero common sense, and have eaten 'rare' chicken, but I have an extraodinary capacity for learning. I'm always bragging about my degree which was the most fantastic learning experience of my life. I guess I was lucky that I was brought up in a decade when the TV wasn't a legitimate substitute for a book, and as a result of reading a lot I learnt a lot and my vocabulary is rather more substantial that that of many of the younger folk I meet these days.
2. My parents never tried to brainwash me. - My mother believes in god, but never taught me her beliefs as fact. My father doesn't appear to believe in anything (if he does, he certainly keeps it to himself). As a result of this unbringing I have been able to make up my own mind about certain ifestyle choices and right & wrong, without having to justify my personal morals with a dusty old book.
3. I am attractive. - And modest! But seriously, I have never felt ugly, and I know that this makes me extremely lucky. I read every day about people hating the way they look, and I feel so awful for them. A lot of the time they are people that I do find attractive. I know looks aren't everything, in fact they're probably the third thing I look at in a potential mate, and not even a factor in a potential aquaintance.
4. I am relatively affluent/employed. - I'm not rich, but I am comfortable. I read all the time about people having to save up for things, worrying about being able to pay the bills, and I am relieved that that's not me.
5. I am confident. - This could well be the result of a combination of 1 & 3, but my life would be so much different if I wasn't as confident as I am. I can dress extravagantly, speak in public to a large crowd, converse with strangers. I won't take shit from anyone, I always stand up for myself (well, provided it's worth it, I mean, I'm not going to attempt to convert religious types who disapprove of my lifestyle).
6. I am physically healthy. - I pay enough for my vitamin supplements so I should bloody well hope I am physically healthy! I work out a lot, so I'm fit. I eat pretty well, drink plenty of water, and look after myself.

I spend so much of my time on the internet complaining about all the things that are wrong with me, I thought it would make a nice change to post about all the things that aren't wrong with me. I hope it doesn't come across as bragging, sometimes I think that everyone is bragging when they compete for 'who has the most issues'. This is just an acknowledgement for me to look back on when I'm feeling shitty again.
I think everyone should make a post like this. Only when they're feeling good, obviously.

(no subject)
emu, emo
Still waiting to hear if I've got the job; the interview went pretty well and I should be told some time this week.
In an effort to avoid being horribly crushed if it doesn't go my way, I've already convinced myself that I haven't got it. That way when I find out for sure it'll just be confirmation. Unfortunately all I've managed to do is make myself miserable and now everything is miserable and the only thing I can imagine pulling me out of this spiral of self-pity and melancholy is an e-mail saying I HAVE got the job. Now I find myself REALLY scared about what'll happen if I get the rejection e-mail. I think I'll continue to go downhill. I have nothing positive going on in my life right now to hold on to.
I'm too old to be an emo. I can't just dye my hair black, listen to MCR and cut myself.
What do I do instead? I'm too tired to keep doing this.
When do I get my 'happily ever after'?

Forget male or female... I don't even think I'm human
I seem to be reading a lot (especially on the ftm comm) about feelings of guilt and offensiveness.
I don't feel guilty about anything, nor do I take offense to anything. I say what is on my mind, normally accompanied with a rationale if I am unable to come up with a justification. I don't feel guilty about the thoughts my brain comes up with, and I don't believe I have ever committed any actions that I ought to feel guilty about. In the same vein, I don't take offense to anything anyone says. They are either right or wrong; it certainly isn't my place to educate them when they're wrong, and that line normally just leads to an argument anyway. I'd rather ignore their wrongness than get into an argument. I would love for everyone to agree with me, but I accept that they probably don't, I tell myself that this is because I am smarter than them, that generally makes me feel better.
So if someone tells me that I am going to Hell because I am transgendered (totally hypothetical), I have two responses:
(In my head): Your concept of Hell amuses me and labels you as religious, which means you are already not even registering on my radar as someone with anything to say worth listening to.
(Actual response): "Okay" with a smile and walk away.
I was accused of mysogyny recently for using the term 'bitch'. Firstly I thought 'how is that mysogyny?'. Although the term originally was used to refer to a female dog, it is now mostly used (where I am anyway) as the verb 'to bitch' meaning to whine, moan, complain. The noun refers to a person who 'bitches'. I considered making this argument. But, after looking up the technical definition of mysogyny (on the greatest reference source on the internets - wikipedia), and discovering that it means 'hatred or dislike of women', maybe I am one.
I don't like women. I generally don't get on with them; tried living with some and it was hell. They annoy me. And none of this is my fault. I wouldn't be offended if someone told me they didn't like trans-folk, I'd just go my way and let them go theirs.
Maybe this is all down to the very solitary way I live my life; only really communicating through the internets, only stomaching social situations when very very drunk, and for the most part coming up with excuses to avoid having to deal with anyone sober.
Guilt seems to cause a lot of people a lot of problems. I feel like yelling 'just get over it!' but maybe they can't. When people accuse me of being offensive I usually just get very confused and don't understand why words (sounds caused by exhalation around the shaping of lips and tongue - audible only for the instant in which they are spoken) can't just be forgotten if they are found to be unpalatable.
Any argument for the typed word being more permanent is also moot, as the words are only there when they are being looked at; if you don't like it, don't read it. Forget it.
When anything is said to me it can be right or wrong, anything wrong will be ignored. It may be positive or negative, depending on the situation I may or may not ignore it. See example:
Right & positive: "You are very clever" - This I will acknowledge and remember, future thoughts from this person may have greater value.
Right & negative: "You aren't very nice" - Whilst this is true, what is the point of saying it? I already know. You are stating the obvious, with no point.
Wrong & postive: "You look like you've lost weight" I am suspicious of the motives of people who either lie, or see through rose-tinted glasses. I don't trust anything they say after this.
Wrong & negative: "You're stupid" - This will simply be ignored. No retort, just a complete loss of respect for anything this person ever utters again.
Why can't other people use this guide? So the next time I declare rather loudly that I think vegetarians are anti-evolutionary morons, they can put that comment into whichever category they feel it fits within and take their own private personal action without trying to 'educate' me. Folks, I am very clever; nothing you say will alter an opinion that I have cultivated, don't even try.

*rant over*

Writer's Block: I'm looking at the ___ in the mirror
If you could meet your true inner self, what would s/he look like, and what would s/he tell you?

Heh, a question I asked myself not long ago. Check the icon.

Up & Down
A couple of hours ago I felt fantastic. I know who/what I am (it doesn't have a label, as such, at least not one that I feel fully encompasses all the aspects of my delightful strangeness). I'm single and loving it; of course I like to look at fit men, but I can't do anything with them so there's no point pursuing a relationship. I have an upcoming job interview; I may or may not get the job (obv the best outcome would be getting the job), but the important thing is that I got the interview after applying for godknowshowmany jobs - if I can get one interview, I can get another. The weather is finally looking up! Just seeing blue skies and sunshine makes me smile. The new series of Doctor Who started tonight! (RIP Elisabeth Sladen - you were a goddess). I've e-mailed my tattoo artist about my next tat (hopefully got it booked for next wknd). I'm going out for dinner tomorrow (I get way over-excited about food). Going to Newquay next wknd (hence tat).
Life seems pretty damn awesome, right?
So how can one tiny little thing make me feel awful?
Every year at Easter I write an Easter Egg Hunt for my little brothers. Nothing epic, just a series of rhyming clues as to where to find the eggs. This year I've been staring at the notepad for three days with nothing coming. About an hour ago I had to admit to myself that I just couldn't do it this year. I got all hot and flustered, my chest started aching and my throut got all tight as if I had a panic-attack coming on. And now I just feel really shitty and miserable, like I've let my mum (she already bought all the eggs) and my brothers down. I think mum thinks I just couldn't be bothered, but that is so not it. Just thinking about it is getting me all upset.

(no subject)
Washed the car today. Epic job. I mean seriously, it was filthy, took hours. And now all the little scratches and chips in the paint and dents and rust patches show up nice and clear. I'm gutted; that baby was pristine when I bought it (a little under a year ago), and now it just looks abused. I was most annoyed by the chips in the doors, quite obviously caused by bastards opening their doors into mine. Especially seeing as how I'm always really careful not to do that to other people's cars. All the rest of the damage is probably my fault 'cause I drive like a drunk seventeen year-old on the run from the police with £100k of cocaine in the trunk. Aggressive and impatient are not personality traits best associated with a good driver. My favourite things to yell at people driving too slowly include: "It's a bike, not a fucking TANK, drive around it!" "It's a speed-bump not a fucking land-mine, move!" "Your suspension is far less important than my need for a drink" and the most relevant of all "Just because you're driving a wanker-mobile (prius) doesn't mean you have to drive like a wanker!"

I think this could be my strongest argument to avoid going on T - if I'm this aggressive NOW, what would I be like with more testosterone? When I was a child, under the care of multiple child-psychologists, my parents were told I had abnormally high levels of testosterone for a pre-pubescent, whether or not that was for a 'girl', I don't know. Nothing was done about it, they were too busy treating the various mental illnesses I was diagnosed with.

Oh well, hitting the gym tomorrow, then going to watch the football, might even treat myself to a nice cold pint in a beer garden sometime in the afternoon.

OMG, just seen the trailer for the new series of Doctor Who! Exclamation mark!

Argh, hopes... rising... can't stop them...!
Oh my god, my heart is hammering. I cannot help it, I'm getting my hope up. I've just received an e-mail for a job interview. This is a job I REALLY want. You can't even begin to imagine how much I want it. My life is all about getting the Dream Job, I don't care about having a family or friends or going on holiday or owning a big house, I just want THAT job. The job that makes me happy. Something I can wake up every morning and not resent. I cannot imagine a life where I have to do a job I hate. I think for most folk their employment is a means to an ends, the ends being material possessions or a family. For me the job IS the ends; the years and years I spent studying my arse off were the means.
Interview is 9th May. In Oxford.
I'm rather concerned about what will happen to me if I don't get the job. I have a whole month to get excited about it, I'll be crushed if I don't get it. I want to be positive, but it's too dangerous.
Might buy myself a new suit. Oh, and read that self-help book my mum got me (cringe).
If I get that job I can finally start my life.

Okay, so anyone who knows me is aware that I fail at social integration, but I would like nonetheless to post my findings on the science behind frienships. Call it an outsider's perspective.
The one-on-one friendship is most easily dissected; two people who benefit mutually from each other's attributes, ie: a person who likes to listen might befriend a person who likes to talk. In addition to this give-and-take aspect (which I could probably handle) the two people involved in the friendship would have to have minimal conflicting opinions (no one agrees with my opinions, so this is probably why I have no friends), ie: it's all well and good being in a talker/listener relationship, but if the opinions of each party differ, then surely the listener will stop listening? If the two persons are into different movies/music/food/activities in general, then what would they do together? It seems to me that most friendships spawn from a mutual appreciation of a form of media (movies/music/comics etc), without regard for this give-and-take that I previously mentioned... I just don't get it.
I don't have any friends.
I don't NEED any friends (seriously, what can they do besides take up my time?)
Yet people seem horrified when I say this. "Oh, surely you must have some friends? Not even one? That's so sad!" Why is it sad? I'm not lonely, in fact I love being on my own, I'm happiest when I'm alone. Again, this is usually met with a chorus of "That's so sad!"
If I woke up tomorrow and I was the only person left on the planet I would be ecstatic. Of course, I would miss my immediate family, and I might be bored once I'd watched all the DVDs and read all the fanfic out there, but for the most part I would be relieved that I didn't have to put up with other people and their questionable beliefs.
I think even if I wanted a friend I'd struggle to find someone I could put up with who could in turn put up with me. I've tried in the past. There's a girl at work who is very much like me only considerably less educated, being near her is like being confronted with a depressingly unflattering mirror.
Maybe that's another reason I can't handle friendship: most of the world is beneath me (one of my less popular opinions), and I feel threatened/intimidated by anyone I perceive to be 'better' than me (I've met one person like this, a boyfriend, I broke up with him for a whole heap of reasons, one of which being that I thought I'd just end up making him miserable in the long run).

I think I have an ingrowing toenail, it is seriously irritating.

Also, I just went to try to buy Guitar Hero Warriors of Rock guitar bundle for ps3 on Amazon where it's been £35 for the last week, today however, when I'm sat there with my bank card out ready to make a purchase, the bastard thing suddenly costs £65! I screamed at the screen. Might have a peek at ebay.

Suspicious happiness...
No, before anyone leaps to any conclusions, I haven't gotten a better job yet. The job most definitely still sucks. But I am happy, and part of me is concerned about that.
As previously mentioned, I suffer a great deal from bi-polar disorder, and have had two cycles in the last five weeks - way more frequent than my usual three or four a year - and they were seriously exhausting, mentally and physically. As much as I know the cycles pass, I really worry that I haven't had long enough to recover to survive another one.
Hopefully that isn't what's happening.
Hopefully I am actually happy, although I don't really know how to tell the difference anymore until I crash.
I think I might be happy because I've realised it's okay to be Milo.
The parental units haven't said anything yet, the chances are they haven't noticed, I mean I've always worn boys' clothes, and never had the fullest cleavage in the world. If they have noticed then they don't care - I'm fine with that. Third option? They're assuming I'm seeking attention, in which case they most certainly will not give it to me. I'm fine with that, too.
I've ordered a proper binder from underworks, so I won't have to bother with that ancient velcro monstrosity I've been relying on for years (it stinks, but I don't really want to put it out for the wash 'cause it'll be like rubbing mother's face in it, and I can't use the washing machine). I still can't believe these products (chest binders, packers) have been available all this time and I've just been improvising with an old back support and socks... Moron.
Right now I'm not in a position to say "I'm definitely going to go on T" or even "I'm never going to go on T", or anything about surgery, although I would love to lose the boobs for so many reasons. I still hate the 'down there' bits, and wish like mad I'd been born with a dick, but the metoidioplasty and phalloplasty procedures seem seriously extreme and the results, from what I've seen, look almost as unappealing as what I already have. Once again I wish I could just be a Ken doll - seal it up, have nothing there. Oooh, like Alan Rickman (drool) in Dogma!
Looking into a trip to Portsmouth mid-May, hoping the gay club I remember (227) is still around. I don't think I'll be visiting the Hampshire Boulevard as I recall there were no doors on the cubicles in the men's room - kind of a bummer if you're drinking heavily and can't piss standing up. I'm pretty sure Hana will be cool with me being Milo, in fact she'll probably love it, she's a total fag-hag.
I think some of my more local drinking buddies should also be okay, although I doubt they'll take me too seriously until they know I'm serious.
I've set up a facebook for Milo, might even link it to this in hope of getting some friends on there (I'll add the people I know as I tell them face-to-face). Wondering how many of the guys I've got chasing me are going to turn tail and run when I tell them I'm not a girl... My money's on 'all of them'.
Also working on a new tattoo design. And when I say 'working on', of course what I mean is 'found on google images, sent to Terry and asked him to make it more interesting', it's going to go across my back/shoulder-blades.
Wow, check me out, I've posted two days in a row!

Is anything about me right?
I'm starting to think nothing about my brain is right. Apparently I'm a real downer to be around because I don't see the bright side in anything. The other day I burst into tears when I heard an advert on the radio for 'auto-glass', because I suddenly realised there were people out there whose job was to fit car windscreens and that just seemed so mundane I couldn't understand why they bothered living.
I have this constant childish feeling that 'if I can't have what I want, I don't want anything'
small example: if the canteen doesn't have the sandwich I want for lunch, I go without food altogether.
bigger example: if I can't have the life I want, I don't want to live. Seriously, what is the point of doing a boring job? I'd rather do nothing.
I'm never going to be the person I want to be, so what's the point in trying?
Let's put this in perspective, I have a great imagination so I'll explain how I see my future in my head:
Three years from now, I am a young man named Milo, working for a forensic science service, preferably having emigrated to America. I have many good friends, mostly male but both straight and gay. I live alone in an apartment adorned with accessories that reflect my eclectic passions. Maybe I have an on-again-off-again boyfriend, I don't know, but I can almost see myself, and I'm smiling, I look so happy.
But it's never going to happen, is it?
Instead, I'm going to be stuck doing a job a million miles beneath me, stuck in crummy old England, stuck in a body that doesn't reflect how I see myself in my head.
I don't believe in reincarnation, but I still entertain myself with the idea that 'in the next life' I might finally get to be the person I want to be.


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