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I'll admit,
I'm afraid, and depressed.

It looks like one of those nights. Mornings, rather.

I'm feeling emo as shit. I bet this is the last kick of my second teenagedom. You know what's funny? If I went on hormones, I'd go through a third set of puberty. Fuck youth. I'm sick of reliving my life. This is Groundhog Day territory.

I suspect it's the music.

I'm crying eyeliner tears of lameness, all through my twisted soul. I've been really staying away from Jay, Twitter, Facebook -- lots of things -- because I feel like I'm about to implode with ghey drama.

And yes, that "mirror" thing is coming up a lot, now. I've been putting off seeing the doctor; despite my worsening depression, I can't take the notion of seeing the guy. I used to love my appointments. Now, I'm dreading telling him, "No, rly; ir wan b man noe, plox."

I've been talking with more trans people lately. Actually, this last 16 months has been my first for encountering transmen. I related, heavily, with the ones I did meet. Being m-t-f seems to be radically different than the other way, in opinions and crap.

Morgan (m-t-f) has sort of filled me with dread. Out-of-town is the only way to get shit done. We have no trans-specialists. They're all in Vancouver. Or.. fuckin' Nelson. (Say, whaaaa?)

So, I'm picturing this, getting to Dr. Y; "Say, can you.. refer me to someone?"

I'm picturing Dr. P; "No really, this is just a phase." Would she even take me, for an appointment, for me to tell her that one?

I'm picturing Mom. All that comes to mind is her head exploding. Actually, the real image is her crying for hours. Which seems worse. Dad? Forget Dad. He'll ditch me for sure, this time.

The real fuck of it all is I can't pick a dude-name to dub myself.

- Patrick, Malcolm, William, Carlin, Callum, Calvin [CHUCK STEAK].

I end up with these fruity ham-n-cheese name combos. I'm a fucking writer; shouldn't I be good with names? Last year, I was hooked on Calvin; this year it's Malcolm.

YOUR PAL MAL WAS A GAL.

I could be a Mal. Cal. I doubt I'm a Pat. (Patty?!) William is the only concrete name, and that one doesn't seem to flow as a first-name. Everyone thinks that the phonetic sound of Willy Whaley is fucking classic-bad. I keep thinking of my William as a Billiam.

I tried naming myself through things I idolize. There's no way to use Van Damme. Not unless I pick a name from a character. Brock Samson IS a Chuck Steak name.

I'm so gay with this.

I do feel like a Mal this month, though.

You Missed:

*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

Backlog:

Circa 2010