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I have been having very lucid and peculiar dreams of late. A few nights ago i dreamt of motorbiking around a posh dinner party where prizes were being given out. I was awarded a horse with a silly amount of modern technology fitted to the saddle. I rode everywhere but the things kept slipping and i had to reach round and put them straight.
The night after that i was at an old great house and for some reason i had to fly a course to test my abilities in a slow single seat biplane. I could control it easily but i forgot where i was mean to be going. I ended up in an old city with gothic buildings covered in vines. There were many small rivers making their way through the city. It was a silly cross between Venice and Durham, but exaggerations of both. The sun was setting and casting a golden glow over everything. I forgot about getting to where i wanted to go and i just flew around the buildings, landing on the roofs and skimming the rivers and bridges. It was autumn.
Tonight’s dream was odd and lovely. I can only remember the last part. For whatever reason i was lying on a sofa on the stage of my old school hall except that it was at university. I was dressed up all nicely. Someone was giving a speech and i just lay there gazing into his eyes. He held up a photo for all to see. It had been taken a few days before when we had last gathered in the hall. I was a black and white photograph of me and those around me in the hall. Everyone was looking at the camera except one girl over my left shoulder who was staring at me with a concentration i have never before seen. I turned away from the photo to look for her in the seated crowd. She slowly stood up and looked directly at me with a smile. She wore her hair in a short dark brown bob. Her neck was long and her shoulders thin. She was the same height as me and it suddenly struck me that she was a man. The audience had long known and were all smiling at our meeting. Everyone else faded and it was her and i left alone.
We talked for hours. She was on my course at university. She showed me her folders full of notes. She was meticulous in her studies. She clearly was a hard worker. A strange point was that she used novelty key rings to illustrate major points with. One page had monkeys one spelling out the word ‘SEX’. On closer inspection, all the monkeys had different names for condoms on them. This seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do.
We got on very well. Instant best friends, we shared numbers and promised to meet again soon. The world spun and i was in a London street following a group of young men to an underground bar. They were all army officers and were dressed in battle gear. I am not sure what i was wearing, possible still nice girl things from the previous scene. I got talking to someone who happened to be the brother of the girl i had met. It seemed that everyone accepted totally that she was a girl. There didn’t seem to be any mention of her not being one. Although she was very pretty, she didn’t quite pass, but people saw her for what she wanted them to. He saw i had her phone in my hand. I must have forgotten to return it. We ate soup and vodka till i was spun back onto the street at which point a crowd had gathered and an old style London Bus had turned up.
She was there and she had a friend. Her friend was also a trans woman. They had never had any hormonal treatment, they were just very good at dressing up.
I was suddenly in a huge dress walking down the street with everyone following me. The bus had departed with all the army people i had become friends with. I talked and walked with her for hours before i woke up.
She was my best friend ever and i will never see her again.
I didn’t even ask for her name.
[Yes the photo is of me]
Writing as a catharsis?
I wish i could write more. If i felt what i was writing held worth i would probably do it more. I, like every other blogger in the world, would like to write a book at some point in my life. I consider this blog as a practice ground. I can write here without needing to be perfect. Hopefully i will build up a style and beauty of writing enough for it to warrant publication. Enough of this.
I have been thinking that i should change the name of this blog. ‘Being a teenage trans-person’ doesn’t roll off the tongue. It is less recognisable in a search. Suggestions are welcome.
I have been wanting to dress more recently for different reasons than i am used to. I now feel like i want to be a girl as a comfort thing. Like eating ice cream or hugging a pillow, i put on a skirt and make-up. Clearly that is not the only reason i do it. It is merely the trigger that has been pushing me over the last few days. It is interesting how things control our lives. i use the word ‘control’ is a gentle way. Perhaps ‘guide’ would have been more appropriate.
I wish i were musical, then i could express my emotion properly. Sometimes words don’t seem enough and i can’t record my thoughts in a way that satisfies me. Music can bring out much more in the mind.
Does doing performing male actions in a female mind make me any less of a woman?
x
Things will change. The direction is uncertain, but the magnitude of the event will not be small.
I am sitting in a hotel lobby in Chicago thinking heavily about what is to come. A plan is formulating in my mind. I have yet to commit it to paper but that will happen soon enough. Hopefully, if i follow all the steps in the scheme, i will have happiness of a sort in whatever shape my body ends up in. My time in America is being documented, but in paper form. There is a girl who needs to read it more than anyone else. If she allows me, i will put it up here, but later.
I have been having lots of thoughts about lots of things. This is a difficult time but it feels slightly productive. By the end of the summer, a path will have been chosen and then all i will have to do it walk down it. I could run, but it depends on how nice the road is. I will have plans for each eventuality. Some more extreme than the others. Some that people won’t agree with, not even those close to me and who support me in what i am doing. They may have difficulty understanding why some stages of the plans are necessary. They are just things that need to be done for me to feel like i can continue.
Having a course makes things a little easier in my mind, but it still leaves a significant amount of unrest. Different unrest.
The plans may be published on this blog, but i may want to keep them to myself and only tell you when they have been done. I will decide later.
I miss people from home that made me feel better about being myself but being in a strange place is liberating. I spent all day practising my girl walk. All smiles. I may get it yet.
I hope to update soon.
xx
Angela Carter, bitches!
I had a presentation to do today. I had to stand up in front of my discussion group and give a talk on anything psychological that i found interesting. Terror gripped me.
For reasons discussed in earlier posts, i am not overly social with anyone on my course. I don’t know anyone in my discussion group, so to give a presentation before them was going to be very difficult. Talking confidently and with humour to people who assume i am the quite one in the corner was a challenge and a half.
I awoke at 0630 and started to prepare for the coming challenge. I know i should have prepared the night before but i was out at a party and i knew i wasn’t going to be able to concentrate. I chose my topic and did the necessary research. I grew terribly scared. We had no guidance on what to talk about and i was worried that my topic would be miles away from what was appropriate. I had chosen a light hearted topic that I was interested in. I feared the others would do serious things and I would be out of place.
By 0830 I had finished and was ready to go. I hopped on my bike and rode in to university. It was amazingly cold and I was forced to do a great proportion of the ride with my hands in my pockets (a skill I developed many years ago in the great winters of the early 2000s). I was a bit early so I got a coffee and waited in the grand entrance to the building. I marvelled at the beautiful building that I so rarely enter. Most of my third year will be spent in there, but for now I get very little time in this architectural beauty.
I usually notice people from my group on their way to the room, but today I saw nobody. Naturally, this worried me. I went to the room where we were meant to present. I peeked through the blinds and recognised nobody. Fear layered itself upon my already terror ridden nerves. Had I forgotten it? This is a fair proportion of my grade and I can’t afford to have missed it. I went to the general office to inquire as to my fate.
Turns out that today the group would convene at 1600 instead of 0900.
I was very relieved, but also a bit disappointed. Now I have to last the rest of the day in more apprehension. I decided to go back home to do some work until I had to go to a lecture. I did some reading and wrote down some notes.
When I cycled in for my lecture later, I decided to bring some cash so that I could waste time (and money) in the city while I wait for my presentation. The lecture was interesting but I knew most of it. I walked to town through a beautiful and ancient path designed for the students for my very purpose. I had nothing that I wanted to buy; I only wished to peruse what was on sale. I walked around the market for a while and then went clothes shopping. The thrill of walking in the women’s section of a store is something that only crossdressers know. The excitement of the forbidden and the lure of the pretty things.
I feel extra special, for I have a deep belief that it shouldn’t be forbidden. For me, the act is a rebellious one. I am saying ‘yes I am a man, and yes I like women’s clothes’. We should be able to buy what we want, not what is prescribed for us by sex, fashion or anything.
My mini rebellion went unnoticed and I started the walk back to university to give my presentation. The pre-stage jitters were starting in my stomach. I was hurled back to my GCSE Drama where I was frequently forced to perform. I used to love this feeling. It is anticipation mixed with dread, mixed with the glory of completing it later. I was in a musical or two in my last school but I was on anti-depressants and as such, I didn’t feel too many emotions.
Now I feel it more than ever. It was almost erotic how I was paralysed by fear and excited at the same time. Angela Carter in her infinite wisdom wrote about the stage in her novel Wise Children. Among a multitude of quotations I could use, the way she describes the wait for the curtain coming up is the most powerful for me. ‘We were wet for it!’ Simple and beautifully true. All erotic symbolism of the theatre aside, it was exactly what I was feeling about giving a presentation to my discussion group (a slightly less romantic setting).
We sat in the room and the first girl went up and spoke. I listened intently, watching her and how she performed. She was strong, confident and intelligent. The kind of person who was not doing it for the joy of the theatrics, but rather the one who is bored but willing to do it if she must. The others were not as good. One girl almost burst into tears at the end. She had to sit down and be comforted. I can empathise with her position, but it is not something that I feel myself.
I noticed that it was just girls doing the talking and the of boys seemed intent on going last. I hate to be included in the group of the boys, so I decided to go next so as not be falsely grouped. ‘I am not a boy’ was the statement I hoped to give off. The presentation before mine was on gender identity and development of personality. She finished and asked if we had any questions. I had a massive list of questions in my head. I wanted to question her and for all to know that I was extremely well versed in the topic (hopefully getting some people to wonder why). Sadly she sat down before I could collect my thoughts and I decided that it was probably for the best as I would have spent ages making my point clear.
My presentation is a blur. I slammed through it and just fell back into my naturally actress mode. It was a very comfortable state to be in. I think it may have come as a shock to some people. I hadn’t spoken a word during the sessions and I was suddenly giving the speech with the confidence of a veteran Shakespearian actor. I had the most questions of anyone and I got very high marks for it.
I cycled home and got drunk.
Last night i wore some new underwear. It is a beautiful pink and black number and i shall upload some photos soon. It is wonderful to have nice underwear. It really makes me feel girly and almost pretty. I took many photos of myself in it, but none of them turned out how i wanted. It is very upsetting that i look like a man in all of them. I shall take more time over the photos this weekend if i can. They should look very good.
Today i wore some nice panties under my trousers today. This is the eponymous regression. I have been at the stage of going out in full girl mode and now i am back to hiding under my trousers. It makes me incredibly sad. I don’t know why i lack the confidence that i once had. Hopefully it will build up again.
I realised that i think about crossdressing and my gender problems nearly all the time. I cannot think of an occurrence this week where my mind has been devoid of the thoughts that plague me. It is a fairly unhappy existence which is why i am further pushed to go on hormones. If i go on hormones, i shall expect to go full time within a few months. This is a very existing prospect.
Anyway, i shall write more later today if anything happens
On Friday night, i got a bit drunk. This is a fairly standard activity for people of my age range, but this time i decided (in my drunken wisdom) to tell everyone about myself. In horrific detail.
We were playing a game which involves telling each other the fun and interesting things we had done. The more drunk i got, the more i was prepared to reveal.
By the end of the evening i had told everyone that i was planning on going on hormones and that i would be spending more and more times dressed as a woman. Most people reacted very well to my revelations. Nobody was full of hate (although some people had many misunderstandings). Had i been sober, i would have been rather full of joy that i had finally told people.
Later that evening we went out to a club and i was dressed as Alice. This was a wonderfully freeing experience because everyone was treating me as a girl. It was like having a dream come true. Unfortunately i passed out on the bus on the way to the club, so i have very few recollections after that.
Lessons learned from the evening’s festivities?
- Don’t drink when you intend to give away important details about your life.
- Alcohol spoils a good night out if you have too much.
- Drinking makes you forget good times.
- Being honest is for when you are sober.
This is not to say that i will stop drinking. I am a student, the concept of being sober strikes fear into my very being. I will however, cut down when i am going through emotional times.
I am sorry for the poor quality of this entry. I shall improve it drastically in the next one. Forgive my writing style at the moment, but my mind is elsewhere. Stay with me and i promise i shall return to my good writings again .
This is turning out to be a deep winter. I know it is still autumn, but it is freezing already. Last year it was January before such temperatures were reached. What do girls wear in winter?
I have only been in the closet (which was nice and warm) during winter before. Now i am out in the cold and i don’t know what to wear. I lack girl jumpers. And most of the girls are wearing little flat boots which look rather silly. I shall have to do some research to find something that i can wear and still be warm in. Scarfs are always good because they hide the adam’s apple.
The sun is just rising over the university buildings and i am sitting in the library doing research. Out on the table lie four books on the development of gender. I have read most of the theories before, but it is nice to read them in detail. The books are very interesting and i am writing down notes to send to Lily.
I hav’nt written about Lily in a while. I suppose it is because it is a bit painful to remember that she isn’t here. I just try to put it to the back of my mind. We are now only communicating by letters and the occasional text. It is hard going. I crave for more contact and attention. I have had so little support and interesting in my transgender issuses here, that it makes me realise how special she is and how lucky i am for finding someone who likes Alice. We shall not see each other until Christmas. I am looking forward to that time for many reasons. Mainly because we shall be going to a transformation clinic in London. I shall have a two hour make over to make me look perfectly like a woman. I shall be sure to get photos. I am mainly going for the educational aspect of it. I want to see how they turn me into a woman so i can do it for myself.
I have been feeling a bit depressed reacently. The reasons for this havn’t been clear although i suspect it may be due to the severe lack of female attention i have had sinced i joined university. I think that my crossdressing may have scared the majority off, but it usually brings a few more interested folk in… I don’t even want a sexual relationship really. I just want a good friend who will treat me as a girl and who i can tell things to.
*sigh* It should work out. I shall see how things go in the next few weeks.
