#completely unimportant

[n0cr4d]

coming soon..

tomorrow at Kogaracon!

[princeazurathepathetic]

I hate Canada.

If it snows A SINGLE OTHER TIME in May I will commit murder.

[touchstarvedsam]

Sam and Dean’s suits totally give me college professor vibes, Sam’s especially. Wincest or J2 workplace romance AU anyone?

Sam/Jared is this by the book professor who’s never late to class and doesn’t give too much homework but just enough to get his students’ minds flowing, to get them thinking, you know? He wants them to participate in class. He’s not stern but he is a little bit uptight. And he always gives this disappointed frown when his students are late or unprepared, but he’s not a tyrant. Occasionally wears glasses. Constantly bothered by Dean/Jensen.

Dean/Jensen shows up to class just minutes under the “if the teacher doesn’t show before this time, we can just leave” rule, almost every time. Rarely gives out homework because he doesn’t want to have to grade it. Major crush on Sam/Jared. Has been wanting to get that uptight professor under him for a long time. Turned on the times he’s caught Sam/Jared in glasses.

Sam/Jared shows up late to class one day, suit jacket wrinkled, tie crooked and rumpled and not perfectly tied like it normally is. Hair a total mess and lips swollen, a flush on his cheeks. Absolutely ruffled in a way his class has never seen before. They suspect he possibly got laid. He’s docile all class, and dismisses them early for the first time ever, with no homework assigned at all.

Dean/Jensen shows up to class late like normal, a smirk plastered onto his smug face as he adjusts his tie. The class knows he got laid. He dismisses the class for the day, says he’s got plans.

[flynntkotzaff]

I found a new hobby.

[laschatzi]

I have a random question... normally, when someone is transported into another realm, mostly the Enchanted Forest, but it was also the case with Camelot, they are magicked into their EF clothes and style, like Snow’s long hair (except in Camelot, there she kept her short hair).

But the first time that happened, when Emma and Snow fell into the EF through the hat portal, Snow’s wardrobe didn’t change, I wonder why?

Thoughts?

[dailyhamonpires]

(( i can’t believe i didn’t realize sooner that kyuranger’s TaurusBlack is voiced by wamuu’s VA

i’m dying, josuke and wamuu as robo-superheroes, what is 2017 even ))

[dailyhamonpires]

(( And with that, Standswap is over for me! If I still owe any fellow pillars any responses, or if said pillars wanna send me ONE LAST THING REAL QUICK, I’ll go into overtime for just those -- but for now, we’re calling it quits. Thank you all for such a lovely experience! I’m floored by the positive response JoJo has gotten, and it was rather fun focusing on someone completely different from myself for a while~ even if he is terrible :V ♥

Anyway, once again, because I’m a nerd who keeps track of these things:

Images Drawn: 97 (3 gifs!)

Breads Spaghettis Eaten: 1 AS FAR AS YOU KNOW

Hands Lost: 0

Mortal Enemies: 3 ish

Teased Zepp:  ∞ times

#1 Detail (Probably) No-One Noticed: In the final panel of the final comic, you can see a bit of JoJo’s full set of horns peeking out...

#1 Unexpected Event: Polis’ existence, honestly. XD I thought about reworking the final comic to imply that JoJo thought Polis had died, as well, but in the end I couldn’t get it to flow well. He does believe that Polis is dead, though. (The implications otherwise are rather too thoughtless, after all, aren’t they?)

Ultimate Fate: rest... 

thank you all ♥ ))

[maj-spirals]

Under the cut is a 2200+ word essay I wrote to celebrate my 1st year of HRT. I started writing this about a month ago, after reading She’s Not There by Jennifer Finney Boylan.

(Brief review of She’s Not There: while I don’t fully relate to her life and transition since she is white, fit, and higher class, I was incredibly moved by her story. I was brought to tears multiple times and hearing of the struggles her transition put on her wife made me feel even more fortunate to have a trans husband who has not only been accepting, but even encouraging of my transition into womanhood. I recommend this book to any trans woman worried how late they started (Jennifer Boylan started at 41) and want to see how trans woman can still have long and fulfilling lives, after what can be a very tumultuous time. EDIT: as of this week I started reading Cleavage which is her new book that serves as a bookend to She’s Not There and it’s v interesting and I think addresses a lot of the differences in experiences, so far I find it a lot more relatable.)

Reading her story left me with two things: 1) a desire to draft my own story oversharing personal details about my life (hooray for you), and 2) an increased anxiety over my life choices. One line that stuck the latter’s particular chord was “…being a man might be the second best life I can live, but the best life I can live will mean only loss and grief.” This line is from a darker period of Boylan’s life, the foreboding decision of transitioning before her. Fortunately, I can say that I didn’t relate to that fear as much, thanks to my sense of security in my support system (as well as a healthy dose of cockiness). My “best life” has been met with mostly positivity and support (aside from dealing with Eurocentric standards of beauty/womanhood and the can of worms that is my father and I’s relationship). However, the line did get me thinking about that “second best life.” While I found that I could never quite picture my life as a man (I only ever found myself directionless as a man), I did find myself looking back at choices I made and wondered how they would have affected my transition.

I would often tell Nate, my husband, that I don’t think I would have transitioned without him. After some much needed self-reflection, I think that I can take back that sentiment, but it did leave me wondering: What would my transition look like if I didn’t end up with Nate? Before I met him, I was talking to a cis woman the summer before leaving for college (I started in September 2018). We had met on Tinder; we chatted, and it seemed like we could’ve had something. We ended up going on a date that ended with making out in my car. She lived about 40min away from my parent’s house, so I unfortunately didn’t see her again in person, but we kept contact. My school at the opposite end of the state put even more distance between us. However, I soon starting to get busy with Nate, whom I had also met on Tinder shortly after starting school. Nate and I’s relationship blossomed rapidly in a way that neither of us expected, so when this girl hit me back up, I felt guilty. I regrettably ended up ghosting and blocking her. Unfortunately, I can’t say that she’s the only other person I ghosted. I also can’t say that ghosting is the worst thing I did around that age. (That would be my first boyfriend’s and I’s relationship, which is a story for another time). I was a shithead.

You could say the shittiness started the week after I turned seventeen. I had started smoking weed which eventually led me to start experimenting with drugs (mostly psychedelics). I would say more this was more the result of my head’s shittiness, and not the cause. It probably just made being a shitty person easier to deal with. The shittiness lasted for about a year and a half until I met Nate and starting college. While I can’t say that I was a perfect person those early months we started dating, he did ground me a lot and made me want to be better.

I’ve only just recently realized that my crash out (the affectionate term I use to describe my shittiness from that year and a half) was at least partially related to my identity. It was likely an existential crisis as a person who would have to go out into the world and become a proper man. Growing up as man in the Mormon church your entire life is essentially written for you. First, you graduate high school and go on a mission, then you go to BYU where you’ll meet a wife, have lots of babies, and live in suburban, marital bliss until you die and ascend into the kingdom of Heaven. This always terrified me. I managed to break away from my Mormon destiny early on, and while I knew I was going to college, most likely for theatre (because what the fuck else would I do?), that still left me with the mortifying realization that I had no idea how to live without the structure that had been holding my life thus far. Essentially, I had no idea what kind of man I was going to be.

I didn’t know any of this while it was happening though. I always struggled with self-reflection. I think I could have chalked it up to a sort of imposter syndrome. (Honestly, a bit of that “nice guy” syndrome as well.) As far as I could tell, I was well liked by my peers but didn’t understand why. There was something wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. I (unconsciously) decided to experiment, with drugs but also with relationships, to see what would fix me. What would make me more interesting or would just make me understand myself better? I had three short lived relationships in high school that lasted about a month each. One was my previously mentioned boyfriend and the other was a girl I dated as a freshman and again as a junior. They both hated me by the time we graduated. I was an asshole. I made toxic decisions that ended up ruining both relationships. Even then, I had a tough time understanding why I made those decisions. I was a dick, just doing stupid things because I was young and dumb and none of it will matter in a few years when I inevitably die; either by suicide or some other life tragedy that happens to people every single day. I hate the person that did those things. All I can do now is try and not be that person again. Who looks back at high school fondly anyway, amirite?

This is all just to highlight the fact that I probably wasn’t a particularly good person. I lacked the self-connection to form any idea on who I was supposed to be, and it left me to act with a lack of emotional maturity. I know that now. I want to thank Nate for helping heal those wounds. I may have put in the work myself, and maybe I could’ve done it myself or maybe someone else would’ve tried, but I am grateful to have someone who was so patient with me. Because I am certainly not that person anymore (for a number of reasons).

Which leads me back to that one fateful decision. Ghosting that girl is a crossroads that I often think about. I chose Nate over her because if we were to have made things official it would have been a long distance relationship, as opposed to the close comfort I had with Nate. I had also learned during my year and a half of crashing out that I wasn’t meant for long distance relationships. (Basically, I met a girl on a drug fueled road trip to Las Vegas I took with my brother shortly after graduation to go to the last Warped Tour. Honestly, I can’t remember how things ended with her, but clearly it didn’t work out). I wonder how different my life would be if I hadn’t had picked Nate. We’ve been together for over 6 years; would I have lasted that long with her? If we had lasted that long, how would she have reacted to my transition? I had all these questions but the most concerning one I had was: would I have even transitioned at all?

A lot of trans people can say that they always felt like a girl, or they always knew they were trans, and I can’t really say the same. I was oblivious to it all. Looking back with what I know now, the signs were there. At the time (hard to remember for sure, but lil kid me, probably eight at the oldest), I didn’t know why I was compelled to go into my sister’s room to try on her clothes. I knew it was something that I didn’t wanna be caught doing, but I also didn’t know why I shouldn’t get caught. I summed it up to normal childhood curiosity.

I was a boy because that’s what I was told to be, and I simply didn’t think to question it. I didn’t think I could. Growing up Mormon with undiagnosed autism was something of a double-edged sword. On one hand, the autism protected me from a lot of the brainwashing that occurs with growing up in that community (xenophobia, sexual shame, etc.), but that same smooth-brained protection made it (at least for me) difficult to define my identity and to self-reflect. The structured life and identity that Mormonism provided was nice to my autistic mind at first, but when I decided I no longer enjoyed the life, I was unable to think about myself as something other than what was assigned to me. The patriarchy was pumped straight into my veins. I think about what my life would look like if I weren’t raised in the church. Mormonism took my identity from me. My gender, as well as whitewashing my Latina heritage. As much as I try, I know I can’t blame my lack of self-reflection completely on my autism or Mormonism, but I can’t help but wonder how much easier my life would have been without them. I think it could have been easier for me to realize my transness, but maybe it wouldn’t have? That decision also wasn’t mine of course, it was my parents, but I can’t help thinking about what my whole family would have looked like without Mormonism.

My delay in trans realization cannot be attributed to lack of exposure either. I made trans friends in high school, and I still never thought I was one of them. I spent nights thinking about it, and I just thought, “I’m probably just an effeminate man.” I would often say things like, “if I could choose, I think I would have been a girl/born with a vagina” and then make some dumb joke about how at least I got to have rights and not deal with periods. Theatre, a notoriously queer environment, helped me experiment and allowed me to be my lil queer self. I was out as bisexual and was often excited for any opportunity to put on a dress or a skirt and do my makeup. I found myself drawn to the other queer folk in my theatre circle. None of it raised any alarms. There were plenty of cishet men in theatre so that doesn’t mean anything, right? (I do have a mutual on here from that time: Hey Sy, sorry if I was a weirdo back then (or even more of one now) but did I give you egg vibes? Did you happen to ever think about that?) After graduating, I met Nate and we were together for years before I realized that maybe, just maybe, I might be trans.

I was an incredibly dense girl. No doubt about it. All the signs were there, and I couldn’t put it together. So many different choices, so many alternate realities where things ended up different. Some of those I was raised Mormon, others I am not. Some I’m just a cis girl, and some, I shudder to think, I’m still a man. I wish I could see all the different versions of me out in the multiverse. Crack their eggs if that’s possible. Personally, I don’t think it is possible (or even wise) to crack an egg before it’s ready, but maybe there’s a trick to it I never learned. If you asked me how I finally realized it, I don’t think I’d be able to give you an answer. When I first told my mom, she asked me why I never said anything sooner, and I just said, “I didn’t know yet.” It was a slow process, and it was helped by seeing other trans people live their lives. So, what do I have to say after a year of hormones? While I must live with the regrets I have, I will no longer be bothered by thinking about the other ways my life could have looked like.

Nate’s been watching a lot of videos about how “what if we are all a simulation/dream” and as enthralled as I am watching these videos with him, as soon as they are over, I find myself thinking, “who cares? I still gotta go to work in the morning!” These thought exercises that have kept me up are the same thing. Choosing Nate and starting HRT are some of the best decisions I have made. I am completely confident saying that. As far as I know, this is the best life that I could have ever hoped for.