Dealing with Rejection

Yesterday I went to a nerdy convention we have in my country each year. It’s a ton of fun to be around people geeking out about everything, seeing kickass cosplay, and buying random nerdy gewgaws. Quick aside, how cool is it that ‘gewgaw’ was a word I already knew and didn’t have to find in a synonym dictionary? Oh, not that cool or interesting? Nevermind, sorry.

Anyways. I’ve been going to this con every year for the past five years except for last year, since I was too overwhelmed with the stress and loneliness of coming out. It was a pretty tough year, honestly. I mean sure, I felt happier than I ever had before, but my life pre-transition had set the bar for happiness very, very near the ground. It really didn’t take much to improve on it. Continue reading



Love is weird.

I don’t mean in the typical pop song way. I mean more widely. What’s love, anyways? We use the word to describe what we feel towards family, or close friends, or partners, but I can tell you those are all very different feelings. Except… also not? Like I said, weird.

On one hand, the affection and protectiveness I feel for my little brother is not anything like the admiration I feel for my best friend, and how excited I feel learning more about her, even after all this time being friends. However, thinking of both of them brings a similar smile to my face, and I’ve found I feel the same about their flaws. That is, I couldn’t care less about them. Sure, I can see in what ways they’re not perfect, but it just doesn’t annoy me in the slightest. At times, I’ve even found myself feeling closer to someone after learning about those things. It’s like, I can acknowledge that it’s not a great thing about them, but I still love them more for it somehow.

Beyond that, I’ve found love, particularly romantic love, to be such an iffy term. I hear people talking about what REAL love is and what it isn’t, but… who gets to choose what the word ‘love’ means, really? It’s somewhat like describing the colour blue to another person. It’s an old philosophical idea to illustrate how impossible it is to know for sure what it’s like to be someone else. Continue reading

A Failure

I don’t want to write a post today.

For whatever reason, I’ve been feeling awful the last couple of days. It might be down to the result of the plebiscite, or maybe something hormonal. Or something else. I really don’t know. That’s part of what makes it so awful. I just feel crappy, and have no real clue why that is.

Then there’s something else making me feel worse: I’ve had a lot of people comment on the difference between me now, and me pre-transition. Old me was, unsurprisingly, very very depressing and miserable. I didn’t realise it at the time, but people could see that very easily. There’s one friend from college who heard about ‘some rumour’ involving me, and her immediate first thought was that I must have killed myself. That’s how bad it was.
Me now looks constantly happy. A couple weeks ago, when I learned about people at work gossiping about me, and guys feeling disgusted and intimidated by me, I went to work the next day looking a bit glum. Just a tad. One of my friends noticed and asked what was wrong, then helped comfort me. While comforting me, she happened to mention that she was so used to seeing me at work with a smile on my face, that it was easy to notice when I was upset. Continue reading


Today’s post will have me being quite honest about what I think of myself, and so will sound rather arrogant and entitled. Heck, it’ll probably be a bit arrogant and entitled. Sorry in advance, I suppose? Let me say ahead of time that I’m aware all the positive things about myself don’t make me better than anyone else, and that I don’t think I’m worth more than any other human (save like, Hitler cause you know, at least I’m not literally Hitler).

Anywho. Today at work I started crying and I felt furious thinking about my current situation. Sure, I moved out of my parents’ house a couple of years before people in my society are expected to, and I’m renting out part of a beautiful apartment in a nice neighbourhood. Some would say I have my life figured out a bit.
Continue reading