egypturnash: (transition)

[...] And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witch stood upright and cried the one word "Yeowa!" in a loud voice.


At this exquisite vision Tip's old comrades stared in wonder for the space of a full minute, and then every head bent low in honest admiration of the lovely Princess Ozma. The girl herself cast one look into Glinda's bright face, which glowed with pleasure and satisfaction, and then turned upon the others. Speaking the words with sweet diffidence, she said:

"I hope none of you will care less for me than you did before. I'm just the same Tip, you know; only— only—"

"Only you're different!" said the Pumpkinhead; and everyone thought it was the wisest speech he had ever made.

—L. Frank Baum, The Land of Oz

I tend to say that I didn't see myself as female when I was a kid. But... stuff like this resonated, somewhere. I had a random assortment of the Oz books when I was young, which happened to include this one. I would not be surprised if it's the one with the most wear and tear. (The copy at hand is not that one; it's from the late seventies/early Eighties Del Rey reprint series, which let me finally read all of Baum's original fourteen books, in all their weird, awkward glory.)

I was digging through my boxes of books, in search of something to read on the plane tomorrow. There was a post-it note sticking from this one, and I knew exactly why. This passage. It's one that I was considering using as an epigraph for The Drowning City if I ever get off my ass and start drawing that.

Of course, Ozma turned out to be very different from scrappy, smart Tip. She got buried in the frills and passive prettiness of being a Fairy Princess in the early 1900s. Maybe, like so many MtF transsexuals, she just wanted to forget that she was ever a boy. She mostly just became a deus ex machina, a source of powerful fairy magic to wrap up a plot, or something to be kidnapped now and then. Not someone who could go out on an adventure and get in trouble. Or someone who could grow up, because nobody ever got any older in Oz.

Mombi's magic smoke is only the beginning of the change.
egypturnash: (transition)
There's glitter in my cleavage.

I think that sentence really sums up everything that's changed about me in the past year and a half. I never would have imagined that I'd look in the mirror before going for a walk, and grab a tube of glitter and dump some on my head and down between my boobs. Because it's sunny, and it's a silly thing to do.

I like being this person a hell of a lot more than I liked being a nervous, hidden boy.
egypturnash: (pink hair)
It's been a funky week, stretching back into the end of the previous one. I hope today signalled the end of this.

There were several bits of drama stirred up, a bit of Not Being There For Someone When They Needed It that really ached when I found out about it later, a party that looked good but wasn't, and a couple of things I'd been keeping inside and holding on to that I never should have finally came out. Noisily and at length.

Things seem to be calm with me now. I can actually try to get things done again instead of brooding. I think I lost about two weeks, at least, to brooding. Maybe three. No art, no job-hunting stuff, just brooding. Some moments of brief delightful happy creativity, but ones set in brooding and evasiveness.

This is a habit I really need to kick. I don't think it's ever helped anything at all, it's just resulted in time wasted, opportunities lost, and made things worse when what I'm brooding about finally boils over.

I say that one reason I haven't thrown resumes and reels around the places that might employ an animator in the Bay Area is that I look back at my possible reel and hate it - it's all Flash crap, full of the limits of the media, most of it more limited by being for the web, with little of me in it because of the division of labor in Spümcø's methods. That it's all stuff I did when I was a depressed shard of self-hate boy and looking at it reminds me of that time.

I bet I'm just lying to myself when I say this. What's the real reason, Peggy?

I got a brief phone call from an ex-Spümcø person. Seems Kevin is working at Frederator now. I'm glad he found some work after the studio ended. Rumor also puts John K at his father's home now. Not so good. I hope he's doing alright. I learned a lot from lurking in the shadows of his studio, watching him draw. Some of his style is obvious in mine, like the crazy way I sometimes do hands, most of it isn't anything that says "I learnt to draw from John K" but I got a lot of my philosophy of how to manage one's diverse and contradictory influences from analyzing his drawings. I'd e-mailed him a couple weeks ago about something silly - thanking him for accidentally teaching me the basics of yodelling, of all things - and signed it "Peggy, formerly Paul". He hasn't written back and I dunno if I expect him to.

I guess my suspicion when I visited before leaving LA was right, and Spümcø is over. I feel like it should affect me more, like I should go over the good times and bad now, but really, everything after WPH for me was a litany of wasted opportunities and poor performances. (Well, I guess I did just reminisce, what with going back up and writing that stuff about John, and the stuff below here, after I said I should reminisce.)

I mean, the head of the US layout team asked me when I was gonna do a layout test early on in the new R&S, and I just curled up and gloomed and put it off. If I'd gotten some self-belief going and just done it I'm sure I'd have managed to do it by after a couple of goes. But I hated all my attempts before I even began them.

I had Ralph Bakshi rave over some of my art and story concepts while I was there. Ralph fucking Bakshi. One of my idols in the field of animation. You know, I really should mention that in my resume somewhere. 2004, Spümcø: involved in developing a SF noir show with Ralph Fuckin' Bakshi, the original crazy beatnik animation director, you fuckerth, if he doesn't come out of retirement again I might be one of the youngest people who can say that, and maybe that's worth something? He's behind my second favorite animated feature ever*, and he liked my stuff, and here I am constantly worrying it's derivative shallow crap.

* Coonskin, sometimes maybe WIzards, but usually Coonskin. All his stuff is confused and fragmented, but there are these moments of brilliance, and these are the ones I've seen that're more coherent and more full of wonderful. Oh, and Yellow Submarine is the top one because it was the first sight I had of something besides the Disney Formula, my introduction to the Beatles, and a bonding moment with my father.

It's raining. Wasn't I walking in light drizzle earlier today, gleefully anticipating that, shouting up to the clouds to gather, to darken, to merge, to RAIN, to wash some stuff clean?

Did I forget to take my progesterone tonight? I was later on my estrogen than usual this morning, due to cleaning up after some of that noisy long-held drama. Hmm. Nope, I took it. I can't blame the hormones. It's just been a complex week with a bunch of stuff bobbing to the surface, and here I am looking at some minor side bits while it rains outside. Poking at loose ends I'm noticing. Thinking about things said and things hiding behind things said.

In an attempt to perk myself up, I will remind myself of this: I wore one of the XL shirts still in my wardrobe, from when I constantly tried to hide in them. I know intellectually that my new gender has been quite visible in them for a year and a half or so, but I still feel like a little like a guy when I wear them, when I look down and see myself kinda shapeless. But I saw myself in the mirror tonight and it was clearly a girl in there, with a big loose shirt draped over her tits and swaying around her waist. It was kinda cute.

I say I'm trying to grow from a broken fake boy into a woman, but this week I really feel like a confused, crazy teenage girl. It sucks. A lot.


Apr. 25th, 2005 03:40 am
egypturnash: (STOPPEZ LE ZAP!)
There is glitter everywhere in the bathroom.

Read more... )

PPS. Sammi's description of the night and various faces; Ashy's.
egypturnash: (passing)
Ever since looking at the pictures of me with the newly-dyed yellow/purple/orange hair, I've been feeling better-looking. And I've been daring to wear a few shirts I used to feel silly and awkward in. Ones cut a little higher on the stomach, shorter sleeves, built for someone with tits and a waist. "Baby-doll" shirts, really. Not extreme, tiny ones, but that class of things. Clearly-for-girls.

I really feel more out-of-place in the XL t-shirts I used to hide in. And a little weird in a boy's tee that's my size, too.

Right now I'm wearing this tight girl's shirt with a punk Hello Kitty on it. I got it several years ago. I've barely ever worn it. It always looked weird to me when I put it on. Now it looks fine.

Confidence grows so slowly, doesn't it?

I need to refresh my hair dye, though. It's fading fast.

a secret

Mar. 21st, 2004 02:57 pm
egypturnash: (change (oCe))
I was thinking about doing that 'If you know me as [name]...' meme that's been going around. I did, but only in a locked entry. Why?

Because of the first line.

Because if I started it off by saying who uses the name I was given at birth, I'd be outing myself.

I've been a lot less close with this secret lately. I think it's reached the point iRL and online where I should come out in general.

I am a transsexual. Born male, raised somewhat gender-indeterminately. Becoming female in body to match a feminine mind.

I kept a lot of myself closed off and hidden; I didn't want to admit it for a long time, even to myself. I tried to convince myself it was just something I did online, playing a female character as a substitute for female companionship in my life, that I was "just" an occasional crossdresser (no offense intended to the very cool and cute crossdressers I know!), even as I secretly reveled every time my general androgyny led a stranger to use female pronouns on me, even as I grew my fingernails long and accumulated a wide collection of nail polish which I casually wore to work.

And then, early in the summer of 2002, I saw myself in a way that made me realize that doing this change I'd always wished for, beneath what I let myself "really" feel, was actually possible. That I was already very much in the middle, mentally and physically, enough so that something could, and should, be done, with a good chance of actually coming out the other end of it happy with myself, looking feminine enough that I don't feel like I'm a constant center of stares.

I've been a lot happier since admitting this to myself, almost two years ago. And even happier since starting my slow change when I got onto female hormones seven months ago. It's confusing and frightening and wonderful, all at once, to see my body change to match my mind, and my mind change as well, as the body affects it. Being at once in my early thirties and in my teens is... confusing, to say the least.

It's a risk, in many ways. But it's one I'm glad I'm taking. I'm not quite sure who I'll be when I'm all finished with the change, but I'm pretty sure I'll be a lot happier with myself than if I'd tried to continue as a bitter, involuted boy. There are new difficulties, new worries... but I'm already a lot more comfortable with myself.

There it is, something I've held secret for almost all my years online. It's hard to hit that 'post entry' button.


egypturnash: (Default)
Margaret Trauth

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