proteanme

I’m never sure how personal I want to be on my blog, in part because I keep my feelings pretty close to the vest. In fact I would say I struggle to access them at times, which is some what of a different issue. But anyway, the other part is this is a public forum, and it’s easy to be misread, misunderstood, misinterpreted, or someone just misses the fucking boat, ya know.

Having said that, I’m going to test the waters a bit with something a little more personal. I’ve been thinking lately that I’ve kinda grown up to be the guy I thought I’d be. And yes, I said guy, and yes. I said that on purpose. When I was a kid I never conceived I would grow up to be a woman. Thinking that’s dissonant? Yeah, me too. I wanted to say that here because I’ve been living with this disparity all my life and been afraid to tell a damn soul. Ok, maybe I’ve told at least a few damn souls., plus I don’t need to over dramatize this.

I know many folks mistake me for a lesbian, and I understand why, but it doesn’t work for me. Lord, I don’t know how to explain, although I think the lesbians get it. But , think of the real lesbians ya know and then think of me, really. Think of who I’ve been with and who my good friends are. Something not adding up?! And it’s not like I want to transition either. Transition meaning become a guy, which is the trend out here. Fuck, for one thing if I was a guy everybody would just say I was a pussy. I’m not macho. I’m a geek who can only pull off looking tough, if I take a wide stance and keep my mouth shut. But the other thing is even as much as I envy male privilege, I don’t want to occupy that space or deal with those expectations. Soooo, here I am, the guy I kinda thought I’d be – dated alot of beautiful women, put out one rock record, am working with a bunch of other guys making things. Whew… got sidetracked in my mind with the revelation that except for women I’ve always aimed low, cause I wasn’t sure what I could expect from a world where I didn’t see a place for myself.

I know there are some people who don’t see a place for themselves and that fuels them to carve one out. Thus far I’ve not been one of those people, but I’m also a late bloomer. So don’t count me out.

I gotta eat some dinner.

I feel I’ve acquired some knowledge about life, or maybe I’d just acquired the ability or willingness to articulate things I’ve been knowing for a while. Either way, I thought I’d write down some of those things.

• When I’m running late, inevitably something almost always happens that makes me later.
• Alot of any day can be consumed by taking things out and putting things away.
• As I grow older I don’t change as much as become more willing to accept myself.
• Even trite stories can be meaningful.